#its been a minute since ive posted about the darlings

[speckled-biscut]

ssilly timeeee:]

[mcl38]

the person who started the whole thing is literally 30 as well

like bestie. you've walked this earth for a whole 30 years and have NOTHING better to do with your time than to waste 20 minutes watching the livery reveal of a team you supposedly hate and want to burn to the ground, and then spend like 2 hours after the fact making posts about how much you hate a 21 and 23 year old for being mean to your oversized 33 year old manchild? at the very least, don't u need to like go feed and change that baby since he's supposedly dependent on you to do everything, including speak, for him?

sorry that's probably too far but i don't even think lando or oscar get infantilized to this point by fans, and they're legitimately 10+ years younger than this grown ass man who supposedly needs fans to defend and speak for him at all times about every little thing.

i mean ive been in f1blr lando circles since early 2020 and i can attest to the fact that lando used to be PAINFULLY babied before he went from fandom darling to controversial fav (and also... fast on the track). that said yeah daniel's always had the brunt of it, i think smth abt the immature humour and lack of hair must rly awaken the maternal instinct in the staniels

im ngl as someone who is crazy abt my own driver i 100% understand the need to defend my fav like crazy. like that one post said i am a pta mum and lando is biting other kids during recess yada yada. but yeah as much as delusion is fun to indulge in i rly dont understand the point of actively upsetting urself by having unrealistic standards. did they genuinely expect mclaren to play a full 7 minute monza 2022 highlights montage complete with team orders?

but yeah, idk if its too far when that part of the fandom is bonkers ridiculous. i just dont engage 🤷🏻‍♀️ and i cant wait to not have to care abt them anymore, even tho chances are they'll try to insert themselves into every conversation ever

[mickmundy]

wait can you please info dump a bit about animatronics (not fnaf)? i wanna hear what you've got 👀

HOLY SHIT WAIT REALLY...... omg now im so shy....... i mean i have so much...... theyve been an interest of mine since i was Small... i think this also stems from my love of "Unsettling Toys" in general (i collect old rushton/general rubber faced toys from the 20s-80s too)!!! also full disclosure IF i had been a kid when fn*f would have come out i would have been obsessed with it most likely. so no hate to it (but Lots of hate to the piece of shit creator LOL)!

if i wasn't so bad at math i'dve been an engineer.. its my dream to work on them (literally any, not just d*sney, though it sucks how few are left in Mainstream Settings outside of the parks!) because i love their workings and the process of how they're made and operated!! buuut at the risk of sounding like a wikipedia article i won't get into that and i'll do my best to keep it short ! under a cut anyway just because i dont want to be annoying ;-;

mm just a quick tw i will be posting pictures of old/tarnished/out of service anima's below and i don't want to scare anyone! but the tone of the thread is Very Loving so no scary content/facts here! <3

i REALLY love the pizzaria/General Eatery Establishment ones in their heydays (i would have loved to have seen the showbiz pizza palace ones ;-; they are So endearing to me...). theres loots of iterations of the showbiz ones so keeping it brief, i really like the wolf pack 5:

the tropical bear, the wolf in a suit, the sweet-looking fox are all pretty predictable likes for me, but this one specifically is extra cool to me since it was apparently loosely inspired by rocky horror! and aahhh something that i really wish i could have seen was when they had a yogi bear collaboration!! ;-; hana barbara was a massive part of my childhood so combining two interests like that would have probably made my Child Head explode LOL. but look at how cute they are! and how BIG yogi is!! AAHH!! as far as i'm aware these never saw the light of day outside of test runs at just a few small locations, but i would haev loved to see them in motion! ;-;

and of course i absolutely adore the circus world pizzaria ones, OUWAAA ;-; their faces were just too darling! even disassembled animatronics always look so gorgeous to me... look at her dainty golden necklace.. and her little fangs! so beautiful! truly works of art!!!

another genre of my favorites are actually ones that aren't "tied down", too!! the dinosaur at disney world that can walk around the parks was SUPER cool (though ive never seen it in person), but i really love the older ones since i don't think they get as much love as d*sneys and i Firmly believe they have souls and you should treat them kindly because if they dont kill you for being Cruel i will. y__y but anyway!

elsie!! she is SO precious very important to me... if youve known me for longer than five minutes you know i love cows, bulls and bovine in general (and horses... <3) so this one should come as no surprise. her voice also just prickles my skin in just the right way.. its very soothing to me! she was a portable animatronic (but honestly maybe more like a puppet!) that could be operated to interact with guests and was used to pitch borden's dairy products back in the day! here's some choice pictures of her, isnt she gorgeous!! ;-;

of course i could make a whole separate post on JUST my love for the disney animatronics just because they were the ones i readily had access too knowledge-wise. i didn't have internet at home growing up so i didn't find out about a lot of these until way later! ;;-;; or if i just so happened to find out about them through weird Word Of Mouth or "hey dutch you like creepy shit! check this out!" and it would be the most darling sensational little creatures ive ever seen in my life... <3 ANYWAY here are some of my favorite disney ones! quick disclaimer that i am Very Critical of The Rat and this is not an endorsement to the company's past (and present lol) Shitty Behavior!

small world and the tiki room are probably my favorite attractions to this day just because i love the history behind the makings of them and the animatronics themselves; the showgirl birds in the tiki room and the singing flowers... wow! and i could go on and on about the incredible textile work alice davis did on the small world dolls! did you know that its a small world was originally made in support for unicef? and the dolls need haircuts every now and then, too! hehe! each piece of clothing down to the shoes was handmade and while its quite dated by this point in time i can't help but hold a soft spot for it. i'm probably one of the few people who still love the song, too!

i'd additionally like to praise the animatronics for 20,000 leagues under the sea (SO devastated i never got to ride it!); the sea monsters and the legendary kraken!! AAHH!! so very iconic and amazing feats of engineering, especially when grappling with water at the time!! seeing these abandoned and ultimately totally stripped down and tossed in landfills (yes. landfills lol) makes me want to cry. i would have taken all of these little darlings home with me!! ;-; ridethroughs of this are of shoddy quality for multiple reasons, some of which were the fault of poor ride maintenance but it's to be expected given the nature of the ride.

some other ones i'd like to note are the america sings animatronics, who were eventually repurposed into splash mountain background characters (and YES i am glad they are finally retiring and letting princess tiana have her extremely overdue spotlight!! i am SO excited for the new patf ride!!). i think the gators are so handsome!! >//u//< but i also love the details on the hens/chickens. the feathers look so plush and perfectly capture that Cartoonish texture Over-exaggeration SO flawlessly!! look at their "fingers"! so dainty!

ANYWAY SORRY THATS MY THOUGHTS ON THAT i have a lot more that i could go into detail about and more Fun Facts (never ride a theme park ride with me. i will spend the entire time talking about animatronics and Fun Facts) but i won't bore u with them. thank you so much for even asking me this!! this is my first anon ouwaa!! ;;; <333

ALSOOOOO my favorite fnaf animatronics for your troubles. i know nothing about the actual lore nor do i particularly care about it. buuut i feel like i owe it to my inner child since i would have loved this franchise if it had been around when i was a kid (there would be no bigger Insister that They Have Souls!!!!!!! other than me lmao) these just make my brain go brrrzzzwrow!!

IF ANYONE ACTUALLY READ THIS ILYSM ACTUALLY AND I OWE U EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tommysparker]

Never Forget You [Chapter 4]

A/N: hey y’all. just wanna say sorry for the posting schedule change. life is about to get hella hectic with school and the move sooo yeah. every second Saturday I will be posting! it’ll defiantly give me a chance to write more as well so im not rushing out chapters. anyways ive rambled long enough, enjoy :) 

Warnings: angst. theres fluff too but its fluffy angst?? im not sorry hehe. long italic paragraphs = flashbacks. 

From an outside perspective, one would assume the four of them were deep in thought, perhaps even communicating telepathically via the Force. They would only be half correct, as all of the Jedi were indeed thinking, but none of their trains of thought overlapped.  

Anakin and Ahoska were in the pilot seats, glancing at each other every other minute or so. They could feel the tension build thicker with every passing planet. The only sound filling the room was the faint running of the engine that kept the ship moving. 

You and Obi-Wan sat across from each other, neither one daring to make eye contact. Apparently, he was quite serious about the “not speaking from now on” agreement. It’s for the best, you kept telling yourself. However, the awkward silence that filled the ship made it harder to believe that. 

Out of all the things that could happen to you at the moment, this was by far the worst. 

On Gyfil, you had grown quite used to the sound of silence. In fact, over time you began to prefer it as opposed to the buzz of the towns. However, this was a different type of silence, one that had you bouncing your knee in anticipation for Anakin to announce you finally landed. 

Master Yoda had called you all for a mission briefing. There was a supposed Separatist group meeting on Ostor, given the intel you received from a client on your previous mission. The four of you were sent to listen in on it. 

“Young Skywalker and Padawan Tano, back up you will be. Great risks on Ostor, there are. Careful, you must be.” He turned to Obi-Wan and You. “Master Y/l/n, guide them you must do. In charge of the mission, I am putting you.” 

A sense of pride filled your body but you quickly humbled yourself. “Thank you Master.” 

Master Yoda smiled and turned to Obi-Wan. “Infiltrate the meeting, you and Master Y/l/n will. Stay together, you must.” 

Obi-Wan would have laughed at the irony. Mentally he still is. Stay together, you must. After the last conversation between the two of you, he had doubts about how that plan would go. However, for the sake of the mission he was willing to lift the deal made. 

You stood quietly, not being able to handle the loud silence any longer. “I’ll be in my quarters until we land,” you announced, making a point not to look at Obi-Wan and keep all attention to Anakin and Ahsoka. 

You left without sparing a glance back. 

He waited until you were out of view to let out a long sigh, running a hand over his beard and hunching forward. 

Anakin was the first to speak. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to endure.” His shoulders shook as he made a disgusted sound. “Glad it’s finally over.” 

“Just focus on getting us there in one piece, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, immediately followed by, “apologizes, I didn’t mean to sound so...aggressive.” 

“So much for being able to hide stress, huh?” 

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things are harder to deal with than others.” 

“Is Master Y/l/n ‘some things’?” Ahoska asked innocently. 

Obi-Wan pondered for a minute, deciding the best way to answer. “Master Y/l/n is...many things.” 

“Like what?” 

Gorgeous. Strong. Kind. Perfect in every way. “They are highly skilled, almost as well as I am, if not better. A fine Jedi and a valuable member to the Order.” He stopped there before he’d say something he’d come to regret. Best to keep professional thoughts. 

“I still don’t understand why the Council sent them away like that. Surely there were other Jedi that could have completed the mission,” Anakin commented. He knew his former Master wasn’t satisfied with the answer they were all given but would never admit it. He had to push him to find the truth. 

“Whatever reasons Master Yoda and Master Windu had for picking Y/n are between them. You must stop questioning the Council’s intentions, Anakin. It will land you in very big trouble one day.” Obi-Wan says as if he hasn’t second guessed the Order as a whole before. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. The less you question things, the easier life is. 

“That’s why I keep you around, old man,” Anakin said in a teasing manner. Hearing Obi-Wan let out a light chuckle made him feel a bit better as they settled into silence once more, this time more comfortable and light-hearted. 

A bit more time had passed before Ahsoka spoke up. “Why don’t you ask Master Y/l/n what really happened?” 

Obi-Wan sighed. He should have known better than to believe she would drop the topic. Like Master, like Padawan. “It’s none of my business. Frankly, it’s none of ours so I suggest we leave the subject alone.” 

His answer, apparently, wasn’t good enough. “I’m gonna go ask them.” Ahsoka stands up to leave but is stopped mid-movement by Obi-Wan’s protests. 

“No!” He looked at Ahsoka’s slightly stunned face, and chose to ignore Anakin’s smug look. “Fine, I’ll ask them. But only once, and if they don’t want to indulge me then that is the end of it. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Crystal.” 

Meanwhile, you sat alone on the bed in your chosen quarters. It made you feel relaxed, in a way. Before leaving, you were extremely extraverted, always going out of your way to make acquaintances with everyone around you. The life forces around you at night kept you alive, it gave a sense of warmth and comfort to lull you to slumber. On Gyfil, there was none of that. You had to rely on your own warmth to comfort yourself to sleep. No lush trees or animals to provide even the smallest bit of connection. It was just You and the Force. Sleeping for the first time in the Jedi Temple after returning felt like a sensory overload. Everything was loud, and rough. You could feel it coursing through your veins at the speed of light. No matter what you did, it was too much. 

You didn’t sleep the first few days. Eventually you got used to the noise, but not enough to get a decent amount of rest at night. There was one sound that sometimes made it impossible to sleep, one Force signature that kept trying to break through the walls you put up to protect yourself when you’re most vulnerable. What scared you the most was the fact your own signature subconsciously fought back against the walls you put. You refused to acknowledge it, choosing to fall into a deep meditative slumber and stay alert as opposed to any actual sleep. Whoever it was would not get into your head so easily. 

Knock knock. Obi-Wan stepped into the room once his presence was made known, gently shutting the door behind him. “Y/n…” 

You looked up and squinted at him. “I thought we agreed to not speak?” 

“Yes, well, that proves to be a bit tricky now doesn’t it?” He smiled tightly and crossed his arms over his chest. 

You huffed out air in a sorry attempt at a sarcastic laugh, shaking your head a little. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?” 

It was neither hostile nor endearing. It was simply his first name. To him you sounded tired, and judging by the way you sat on the cot, leaning back against the cold metal wall with your eyes half opened, he presumed his assumption was correct. He spoke gently, “Anakin estimates we should be coming out of hyperspace and landing soon.” 

“I figured.” It wasn’t your intention to be stoic but that's how you’ve been training yourself to speak to the man in front of you. The faster the conversation ends, the faster he leaves. 

Obi-Wan, however, was not having it. “How are you feeling? I know it hasn’t been that long since you returned from your previous assignment.” 

You shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.” 

“No one who says that is ever truly ‘fine’ Y/n/n,” he says, taking a step closer to the bed. “I know you. What’s on your mind, darling?” 

You slowly met his gaze, debating whether to open up or keep yourself closed off. On one hand, the idea of exposing your anxieties to someone didn’t feel right to you, letting someone know about your weaknesses and insecurities. However, you knew in order for the mission to succeed you would have to be willing to work with Obi-Wan and to do that a sense of trust had to be built. Rebuilt, technically. 

“If you wish not to speak, I understand.” He hesitated turning his back to you, “excuse me.” He was about to make his leave before you interrupted. 

“Obi-Wan, wait,” You sighed, shifting so there was room for him to sit on the bed. “Sit.” 

He did as he was told, eyeing you carefully. “Honestly, I don’t mean to pry.” 

“It’s fine.” You knew his intentions and as pure as they were you cannot bring yourself to tell him the truth. “I admit that I...am slightly concerned about the mission.” 

It wasn’t the answer Obi-Wan was hoping for, but he was willing to hear anything he could get out of you. “You have nothing to be worried about Y/n/n. You’re an extremely capable Jedi and I have no doubt in my mind you will lead us through it.” 

You smiled, only slightly but a smile nonetheless. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. 

Your eyes locked tight with each other, and everything around you became emptiness. A void surrounded you both and the presence of the other was all that could be felt. 

“Staring competitions are pointless.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straight and attempting to return your meditative state. 

“No they aren’t!: Obi-Wan argued from his spot across from you. 

“All you do is stare at each other until someone blinks. Waste of time.” 

“Nuh uh. Master Qui-Gon told me that--” Obi-Wan stood up, “--‘The eyes are a window to the soul’--” you laughed at the bad attempt he made to mimic his Master;s voice, “--therefore staring competitions can be a very good battle tactic.” 

“Jedi don’t do battles, remember? We’re peacekeepers.” You looked up at your friend. “Besides, you just want an excuse to get lost in my eyes.” 

Obi-Wan grinned. “You know me so well.” 

So much has changed about the man in front of you, you could hardly recognize him. You never allowed yourself the pleasure to examine what you missed out on. One moment he was a young man who looked like he could take on the universe, and now all you could see was one tired man doing his best. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, is what the old You would have teased. But post-living-ten-years-by-yourself You was different. In a way, you understood. Although you didn’t fight any life-threatening battles and put yourself in the line of fire every week, you have worked tirelessly towards the same goal. 

Peace. 

Like this moment. 

For once, it was quiet. You felt yourself relax slowly, focusing on the one noise that soothed your anxious mind. It felt warm and...close. Something you haven’t felt in a long, long time. 

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his heart reacting faster than his brain. He felt a warmth he had been longing for over a decade. When he reached out, he no longer felt desolate. He wanted to hold on to the feeling and never let go. 

But alas in time of war, small moments of peace only last for so long. 

“Hey! We’re here.”  

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reblog and comment what will happen on the mission  👀👀

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[kaz11283]

44 and 45 for writing prompts?

44) Close Your Eyes

45) Will You Marry me

Your Favorite Suprise

Warnings: fluff

Characters: Your favorite God of Mischief, Nat, Clint (brother, I know I have a weird problem ok?), Steve, Tony, Thor

Summary: you and Loki had been dating for a while now it only made since that he wants to take the next step.

Announcements: Ah yes, while I should be working on the next chapter of my series Im doing a Loki Request list...makes sense to me. I have decided to start posting a chapter a week and I have decided to start posting The chapters on Fridays. But I'll probably still be doing one shots and drabbles randomly during the week along with request. *its like really early in the morning here so if I am not making any sense i will probably post another update soon.* love you guys, thank you for the request! 💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~~

Loki had been distant all day, he wasnt in any of the normal places that he normally would have been. You had checked in the library, his room, even the lab none held signs that the god had been there all day.

"Guys, have you by any chance seen Loki?" You asked walking into the living room where your brother and Nat were wrestling, for some unknown reason, Thor and Steve sat watching.

"Tall guy, wears to much green, pointy hat?" Clint choked out from a chokehold. Sometimes you wondered if you were really the oldest with the way he acted.

"Last time I seen my brother he was heading out to the large balcony on the top floor with a rather heavy looking box." Thor called over his shoulder. "No no no Hawkman, you odviously doing it wrong. Let me show you." He said getting up walking over to the two on the floor.

"Whatever, he'll know where to find me I guess." You said jumping over the back of the couch sitting down next to Steve.

"Hey! No jumping on the furniture. I swear its like I live in a house full of kids between you and Parker jumping and flying around." Tony yelled from the kitchen door.

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at you. "Thor is trying to show them some Asguardian fighting moves. Nat picked up pretty fast, your brother on the other hand..."

"He does better in a roost high above the ground. Only reason I use to hate fighting with him is because he could climb higher than I could." You laughed.

"Ok Lord Thunder if you can do better be my guest." Clint took a step back allowing Thor to stand in. Thor gave a bellowing laugh and got in a fighting stance.

"My people invented these moves I can easily take down Nat."

After a few rounds and Thor definitly losing causing the room to howl with laughter at his confusion Loki walked in.

"So the man of mysteries returns. Where have you been darling." You asked as he came to stand beside you.

"Just working on a suprise for you my dearest." He laughed leaning down and kissing the top of your head.

"Please stop, there are young eyes in the room." Clint groaned from a recliner across from you causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yeah, if your going by shoe size." You mocked. Turning to Loki you looked at him. "What does the god of mischief have up his sleave for me?"

"Come dear, I would rather show you." He offered you his hand and you walked from the room.

He lead you to the room where the balcony was located and turned to you. "Close your eyes."

"Ummm why? You planning on pushing me off?" You laughed realizing that he had a serious look on his face. "Nevermind." You closed your eye, as soon as they were shut you felt a cloth wrap around your head. "If you wnted something like this all you had to do was ask." You smirked.

"Oh nine realms y/n. Get your mind out of the gutter for just a little bit." You couldnt see it but you knew he was rolling his eyes. "This is serious." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Ok fine, serious, I can be serious for like 5 minutes. I cant guarantee the comments that will follow after the time is up though." You laughed.

"Sometimes I feels like I'm dating your brother." He huffed taking your hand and leading you onto the balcony.

"We are basically the same person, I just look alot better than he does in a cat suit." He let go of your hand just after walking out of the door and disappered.

"You know that mouth is one of my favorit things about you." He whispered in your ear cauing your heart to flutter. "Always quick to the punch, it never fails." He said kissing the side of your mouth.

"But my absolute favorit thing about you is your willingness to over look a persons flaws, to give everyone a chance, even if they dont deserve it. You have such an open mind forgiving everyone that you feel need forgiving. Looking for the good in a person and giving that person hope that maybe there is hope left for them." This time he brushed your hair from your neck kissing you behind the ear sending a shiver down your spine.

"Loki you was never a bad person-" you saod trying to defend him aginst hisself

"I brainwashed your brother." He countered. "You didnt just do it for me though. You stood up for Wanda, for Bucky, you stand up for the underdogs that wouldnt have a chance other wise."

"Wanda needed a family, Bucky was Steves best friend and I seen how it hurt him for eveyone to be aginst him. Also brainwashed. Im kinda seeing a pattern here though." You smiled.

"Y/n, honestly would you jusy be quiet for a few more minutes." He sighed.

"Ok, lips are sealed. Continue telling me how great I am." He sighed again pulling you closer to the middle of the balcony.

"You have been my light in the darkest tunnel I had ever been in. When the others shut me out you were always there to let me know I wasnt alone. I could travel to all nine realms and never find another soul as caring and as trust worthy as you, who holds me at night when nightmares wake me up, who actually seen good in me and who has made me a better person." You felt him reach behind you and untie the knot from the blind, you kept your eyes closed as you felt him grab your hand again this time there was a slight pull. "Darling you can open your eyes."

When you opened them you were awestruck with the sight in front of you. Farie lights had been hung from the rafters causing a warm glow around the balcony, ivy and white flowers hand been drapped on the walls givingbthe whole place a cozy feel. You looked at Loki noticing him kneeling in front of you, you opened your mouth to make a comment but quicky shut it not wanting to ruin the moment.

"Y/n Barton there is no one else I would rather travel the nine realms with but you, I would walk across time and space to see you smile. Would you please do me the honor of being my princess? My Queen? For all eternity? Will you marry me?" He pulled out a small black box for his pocket and opened it revealing a silver band entwind with a beautiful type of black metal a small emerald sat nestled between the two holding the jewel in place. Your eyes shot up to his and tears started to flow. You didnt trust you voice in that moment son you simply shook your head.

He was on his feet in no time easily slipping the band on your finger before wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close to him. You placed your hands on either side of his face pulling him into you for a kiss. "Yes." You mumbled aginst his lips as he smiled into the kiss. "A million times yes!"

"We are going to have a wedding!" Thor yelled from the open door causing you both to jump. You looked up in time to see everyone that had been in the living room crowed around watching the two of you. "Lady y/n, a fine sister you will make!" Thor beamed picking you up into a crushing hug.

"You can have her! Ive had her as a sister long enough." Clint said beside you as he leaned down to kiss you cheek. "Congrats sis."

"You knew didnt you?" You smiled.

"Of course I did. Hes kinda old school, asked if it would be ok if he asked you. Nice guy, once you get past the whole mind control thing." You smacked his in the chest.

"In my defence you did try to shoot me woth an arrow that exploded." Loki said wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Ill take back the approval to marry my sister." He saod looking straight at him.

"No you wont, ive already said yes. Besides he really makes me happy. Truly honestly happy." You smiled looking up at Loki giving him another kiss.

~~~~~~

Tag list:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

[kyber-crystal]

safe with him || s.r

summary: following your reunion after weeks apart drifting through space, steve becomes an overprotective mother hen and refuses to let you out of his sight.  

words: ~1.3k

warnings: very slightly mentions of angst, soft cap, fluff. UNEDITED so it’s VERY poorly written i’m sorry

a/n: a part 2 to Lost In Space, as requested by anon! it’s been FOREVER since i first published that fic but i’m so glad you went back and read it! you can read this as a standalone too tho. POST IW---PRE-ENDGAME AU

After your touched down at the compound, Steve was refusing to leave your side. 

Whenever you moved about, he was never far behind—always staying within a foot of where you stood or sat. You wanted to protest, to reassure him you were just fine—but you understood his urge to go full-on overprotective worried mother hen mode. It was in his nature to worry. 

"Darling,” he spoke so softly it took everyone by surprise. It was a tone of voice the team rarely ever heard him use—it was a tone specifically reserved for you, and only you. 

“Hmm?” You pulled his jacket tightly around your shoulders, watching Tony from outside, worriedly peering through the glass walls. “What’s up?”

"C’mere,” he spread his arms out towards you. You didn’t hesitate to step forward, walking straight into his warm embrace. As soon as your head found its way against his heart you were at ease and your hands slid up his back in response, gently gripping the fabric of his T-shirt. 

You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as he rested his chin on your head and pressed a soft kiss to your temple—letting his lips linger there for a second longer than usual. It felt nice to be with him again. After weeks of complete separation and no contact whatsoever, you’d found yourself missing Steve so much your chest physically ached just thinking about him.

If time permitted, you would’ve stayed like that forever. You wanted nothing more, nothing less, than to have him hold you until the very end of your days—and he wanted to do the same, as well. 

Your heart felt hollowed and carved out; empty after the wake of the Snap, after the world was shocked into utter devastation. You lost your practically-siblings, Wanda and Peter, you lost your best pals, Sam, Bucky, you lost your mentor and father figure, Doctor Strange. You lost all your friends and family and you didn’t know what to do. You felt lost and alone; helpless.

You sought out comfort in the warmth of Steve’s embrace and his piercing gaze, stunning blue eyes that would never fail to keep you calm yet make your heart race at the same time. Blue eyes brimming with sheer love and adoration—for you. You don’t need to say anything for him to wrap you into a tight hug—he could read you like an open book—he knew you almost as well as you knew yourself, if not even better. “Doll, I even remember your exact order from that Thai place we always order takeout from,” he’d say, “Spicy shrimp pad thai, pineapple fried rice, and taro milk tea with 50% ice and 25% sweetness,” as well as other oddly specific facts nobody else would know unless you told them yourself or they peeked through your file, “You were born (Y/B/D) at exactly 12:01:36 a.m. You’re a Brooklyn kid, just like me,” “You love action films, crime dramas, and pulling all-nighters to watch the sunrise.”

Maybe that’s what made you let down your guard around him and trust him so easily. Maybe that’s why you felt so safe around him—there was little to nothing he didn't know about you—so there was no point in hiding.

“You’re tired,” he murmured into your hair. “When’s the last time you got any rest?”

When you didn’t answer because you were too worn out to do so, he observed your bloodshot eyes and dark circles, which told him all he needed to know. “Let’s get you sitting down again, doll. You’ve had a long day.”

You nodded numbly as he led you back to the lounge. He sat down on the plushy couch next to you, and you stretched out, resting your head in his lap. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently raking his fingers through your soft hair. 

“Hey, Y/N-” Bruce paused and quickly lowered his voice when he saw you’d fallen asleep. He came and carefully draped a blanket over your body before taking a step back. “Are you sure she’s alright...”

“I don’t know,” Steve exhaled, brushing stray hairs away from your face. “If her fatigue alone is telling me anything, then...”

He nodded. “Alright...why don’t you take her back to her room, Cap, and I’ll go grab the IV drip.” 

“Rogers.”

“Hey, Nat...”

“I saw that little exchange outside." He wasn’t smirking at all, just had a small smile on. “Guess you finally worked up the courage to do it, huh.”

“Actually...she initiated it. But I think I would’ve done it sooner or later,” he smiled down at your sleeping form, “I missed her.”

“I know. I did too.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m glad she’s back. I’ve had enough of you moping around trying to get drunk, when you know for a fact you can’t.”

“Natasha...”

“I’m just messing with you,” she laughed. “I gotta go talk to Rhodes about something, so you keep taking care of your girl, alright?”

“Yeah.”

...

You woke up to find yourself in bed. An IV needle was inserted into the crook of your elbow, and a worried Steve Rogers was sitting in a chair he’d pulled up to your bedside, head in your lap as he gripped your hand tightly. 

“Hi. Steve. You awake?” 

“Hmmm?” He lifted his head up and blinked several times. “Y/N! You’re awake. That’s good.”

You yawned. “What time is it?”

“A little past 10 a.m. You hungry? I can fix something up for you, if you want. How’d you sleep? Bruce had to administer some treatments for you...you were hit pretty hard after living on nothing but packaged meals and granola bars for several weeks.”

“I don’t feel like passing out anymore,” you shrugged, “So that’s good. What about you? How much sleep did you get? Or did you stay here...the entire time...”

“A few hours, on and off.”

“And when you say few hours, you really mean...a few minutes here and there, don’t you,” you said in a slightly accusatory tone. “Steve, really? I’m not a child. I’m basically not much younger than you, I can get by on my own.”

"You had me really worried, Y/N. When I didn’t see you return...I thought I’d actually lost you. I don’t even want to think about how that’d affect me if it were to be true.”

“Awww,” you stuck your bottom lip out slightly, teasing him, “Does the big, muscular, giant puppy, Captain America, care about me?”

“I'm supposed to protect you, to watch over you,” he tried defending himself, but the flush of his cheeks gave it all away. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Okay, then...” You nodded, leaning back against the headboard, the aftereffects of all the meds beginning to catch up with you. “Man, I’m tired. Doesn’t matter if I sleep 14 minutes or 14 hours, I’m always going to feel like crap.”

“But I do care about you,” Steve corrected himself, “that’s true. I always have.”

His voice was so soothing, so calming—you wanted to swoon and fall asleep to it at the same time. You felt your stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“That’s nice,” you closed your eyes, smiling sleepily, “because I care about you too. Wouldn’t have spilled all my feelings in that voice recording if I didn’t. I was scared I’d never see you again, either...”

“A recording?” He raised a brow. “What’d it say?’

“That I love you and I always have and always will,” you breathed out, eyes still closed, “But I think I’ve made that fact obvious enough already.”

“Can I kiss you?” he spoke suddenly.

"You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled as you leaned in. He closed the gap and connected your lips with his. You felt a pleasant stirring sensation in your chest—and so did he. 

And you finally felt like you were home again.

[bnhaficsforthesoul]

Can we PLEASE get some todoroki fluff I miss your writing 🥺

hI IM SO SORRY I KNOW THESE PAST FEW MONTHS IVE BEEN SHIT AT WRITING/POSTING BUT IVE BEEN CONSTANTLY BUSY, also I wrote this like 2 weeks ago at 4 am and I don't even know if it's the kind of fluff you wanted lmao dont mind me 😊 (also I guess this is a college au?)

----

'Do you love me?'

Shoutos eyebrows furrowed at the random text you had sent him late at night, or early in the morning he supposed. You had told him a few hours ago that you were feeling extra sleepy tonight and were gonna head to bed early, and there was literally an 'I love you too' message above yours, the one he had sent through your nightly 'I love you' before bed. But apparently that wasnt enough.

'Of course I do, why?'

He tried focusing his attention back onto the show he was watching, but the uneasy feeling in his gut told him that you needed him right now - and he chose to pause the show and impatiently wait for your response. Shouto couldnt help but get slightly annoyed as the 3 dots kept appearing and disappearing, but still, he kept his eyes focused on the bright screen, ready to read whatever it was you were going to send him.

'Just.... Idk... its dumb... I know you love me, I really do, but sometimes I cant help but think you're just staying because you feel bad... it wouldnt be the first time someones used me for affection..."

Shouto found himself staring at your message for a while. Did you think he was using you?

'Baby... you dont really think I'm with you because I feel bad... you know me, I'm not willing to stay with someone for something as dumb as that. I love you y/n, I love you more than anyone I've ever met, please believe me. Do you want me to come over?'

Letting out a long sigh as he sent his reply, he jumped up out of his bed and went to slip his shoes on. Even if you said you didnt want him to come, he was going to.

'No! Well - if you do.... can you come in like an hour?'

'Why?'

'I dont want you to see me crying."

Its official now, hes definitely coming over. He even grabbed an extra hoodie for good measure, knowing that no matter what his hoodie would cheer you up at least a bit. Your apartment was very luckily pretty close by, only a 15 minute walk that he could push down to 10 if he moved quickly - so it wasnt long before a slightly panting Shouto was knocking on your door.

You knew who it was, who else in their right mind would come over at 4am (although you did have some highly crackheaded friends that wouldnt surprise you if they suddenly showed up this late, but right now you just wanted Shouto so you didnt even consider that).

"You weren't supposed to come for another 40 minutes."

Shouto gave you a teasing smile as he made his way through your door, even though your tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes almost had him tearing up himself. And you really thought he didnt actually love you.

"Hmm really? I didnt notice, I was too busy missing my darling."

Not even giving you the chance to roll your eyes at his remark, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back into your bedroom, barely kicking off his shoes before sitting down and holding out the hoodie he brought for you.

"If you wanna lie down you have to put this on."

This time you were able to fully give him your eye roll, pulling a snicker from his lips - apparently even sad you still found joy in messing with him. Once the hoodie was on, Shouto wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, falling backwards himself so that you would end up lying on his chest.

"Now, you wanna talk about it baby? Why'd you think that all of the sudden?"

He felt you nuzzle closer into him, your fists bundling up his own hoodie as you breathed in his comforting scent. Even if you were nervous to talk about what going on, Shouto always had a way of keeping you calm.

"I was just thinking about how much my life has changed since I moved here, I guess I was being sentimental. First I was all happy thinking about how I got to meet you and all our friends, and how I felt included and cared about for once. But then I remembered my whole reason for moving out here in the first place - before college, no one gave a damn about me. Not my parents, not my friends, no one. I realized how many people that were close to me had never cared about my wellbeing, but stayed because they knew that I would care about theirs. So I moved here for a new start, hoping I'd find people who did care, and I did! But I cant help but wonder if they only care because they're using me too..."

Shouto rubbed your back gently as you rambled on, listening intently to every word you said. It hurt hearing you say these things, he knew you didnt have much back home, but he didnt think that you had really never had people genuinely care about you.

"Baby, you're with good people now. We all love you, even Katsuki loves you. And you better get it through that thick skull of yours that I absolutely adore you. No one here is using you, and if they are you know I will not hesitate to beat the shit out of them."

He smiled when he heard your soft giggle, happy he was able to help lift your spirits.

"Shouto, you cant just go beating people up."

"I can if they hurt you."

"Only if they punch me or something. Otherwise, no. I cant risk you getting actually hurt."

Shouto didnt respond to that, instead pulling you closer into his chest and rolling onto his side, lacing your legs together and making it so that you couldnt leave even if you wanted to as a soft smile made it's way onto his face.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah babe?"

"I love you. More than anything."

[bastillewolf]

Midnight In Sheffield (IV)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: So, since I’m posting this one quite late on a Sunday night, maybe we’ll call the schedule day Midnight In Sheffield Mondays? I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

@alexbandguy86​​​​​​ @bettyschwallocksyee​​​​​​ @fookingsummertime​​​​​​ @juicebox-baby​​​​@darksydork7​​​​​ @edgythought​​​​ @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo​ 

Chapter IV - I Want It All

Isn’t this nice?” Mark asked. “I can’t remember the last time we went out for lunch with just the two of us.”

She nodded, feeling a bit calmer since she’d woken up after getting a decent night’s rest, even if it was a bit shorter. She’d gotten back not a minute late last night, for Mark had arrived when she was about to cover herself under the bedsheets, asking what she was still doing up. It ended with her in tears, mostly because of the pure confusion the day had brought her, but also because she’d felt like she needed it.

It was apparent that Mark was feeling a bit concerned, and was doing his best attempt to cheer her up a bit.

“I had an idea, please hear me out for a bit,” he started.

She pulled up her nose, because whenever he said those words, they were usually followed by some notion she wouldn’t like.

“What if we got married at the church back home?”

She paused. Not what she had expected, but certainly not something she favoured. “I thought we were going to get married in France?”

“I know, but… James and Rachel just told me they wouldn’t be able to make it around the time we’d planned to have it. If we just got married at home, I’m sure that would work out better for a lot of people on the guest list.”

“Mark, we’ve discussed this, and the invitations are already printed. If James and Rachel don’t think our wedding is important enough to make time for it, then I suppose they’re not coming.”

“Sweetheart, you know how much they’d want to come. It’s just…”

“What? Spit it out, will you?”

“I’m afraid my parents might get the wrong idea with us getting married in France.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, they think it’s a bit dramatic, for starters. And they know how much you enjoy it there; their guess is that you might want to stay there forever after all is said and done.”

She gave him a look. “So, your parents are afraid I’m going to chain you to a tree in a French vineyard so they can’t ever see you again? Do they think I’m drugging you into agreeing to everything I do?”

He huffed in amusement. “No, sweetheart. But they… they just want to make sure this marriage is going to work. And the first step in their eyes would be to hold a wedding at home. Think of it as nothing more than insurance that you’ll have a pleasant day with your family-in-law.”

“And I wouldn’t have that in France?”

“You’ll most likely be met with the sour faces of both my mother and my sister. And you haven’t even encountered my aunt’s death glare yet. That one’s a real deal-breaker.”

She sighed, fumbling with her hands in her lap. Her engagement ring was starting to feel incredibly heavy, as if the diamond had multiplied its amount of carats.

 She had tea with her mum later that day. Her dad was off to work.

“I… Uh, I don’t think we’ll be holding the wedding in France after all.”

Her mother lifted her chin to meet her eyes, gently setting her teacup back on its saucer. “And why is that?”

“Well, you know. I think it would be a lot easier for people to get to the venue because of work and all that. They wouldn’t have to go through all the traveling business, and it would save me and Mark quite a bit of money.”

Her mother hummed in response, but the look she gave her was critical. “I don’t think I remember ever hearing you talk about other people’s expense when you were little and showed me your wedding plans in your binder. That girl would tell everyone to sod off if they couldn’t make time for her special day, let alone think about saving money.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“Darling, I love you. I would travel the world and back if it meant seeing you walk down the aisle. Please don’t let anyone ruin the dreams you have. I raised you better than that.”

 It was nearing midnight, and Alex had lit himself a cigarette in front of the old church. It was going to be a quiet one, due to the fact that Monday was the only day of the week the pub was closed. That didn’t mean the lads wouldn’t go out, but the singer just didn’t feel like it for some reason.

A few ladies dressed in shimmery dresses with feathers in their hair walked past him and sent a wink his way, but he barely paid them any mind. His mind was elsewhere, and the empty alleyway he walked through next was illuminated only by the stars and the moon, which shone like fireballs in the dark blue abyss.

He wandered back into a main street, but it was quiet there, too.

Until he heard the muffled noises coming from a figure hunched against one of the streetlights.

It was a girl, obviously, and she was crying. But it didn’t turn out to be just any girl.

His Arabella.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked. He’d crouched down next to her, attempting to move the hair soaked by her tears away from her face. He noticed she was shivering, and shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders. “I’m afraid the pawnshops are all closed by now. You’re going to have to find another way to get your money’s worth out of that engagement ring if you want to rid of it tonight.”

She sniffled a laugh, which he was pleased to receive from her. “I really don’t mean to show up crying every night. This is so embarrassing.”

Alex recalled Miles telling about the night you’d met. “Not embarrassing at all. Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head.

“Alright. Then let’s get you somewhere warmer. Also, I’m famished. Are you hungry?”

 “Alphonse, how are you this evening?”

The bell had chimed as they’d walked into the small restaurant, and though the lights were dimmed, she could make out the quaint interior quite well. Round tables, probably meant for no more than two, with a small red tablecloth draped over a larger white one on each of them. They were adorned with clean sets of dinnerware, as well as a simple candle as a centrepiece.

There were grapevines hanging across the wooden beams across the ceiling, and the walls had various paintings of landscape upon them.

In the back of the room, sat the head chef, - she supposed, as he wore the biggest hat of them all – playing a game of cards with his employees.

“Not any worse than any other evening, mister Turner. How are you?” The chef called Alphonse replied heartily. She noted a hint of a French accent in his speech.

“Quite alright, as I’m surrounded by good company.”

“I see, and who might your lady friend be?”

She introduced herself politely, to which all of the cooks took their hats off.

“A friend of mister Turner’s is a friend of ours, Cherie.”

“I told you to call me Alex a long time ago,” came his protest. “Say, you wouldn’t have anything left sitting in the kitchen, would you?”

Alphonse chuckled as he stood, tucking his deck of cards in his shirt’s pocket after giving his fellow players a suspicious look. “I’ll see what we have left after your band of misfits came to raid the place.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t be complaining, if I were you. They’re your best customers, after all,” Alex called after him.

The chef grumbled something about empty pantries as he returned with a basket in hand. “And I advise you to take the lady out to dinner here at a more appropriate time instead of sneaking of into the night with a basket full of goodies.”

“Now, you know I never come here that early.”

 It turns out he’d packed them an entire cheese platter, with bread, butter, and a nice bottle of wine to make the basket complete. The singer had been gallant enough to carry it and pour her a glass of wine as they walked, to a location he would not yet disclose.

“It seems like you’re known around these parts as a night owl,” she deducted.

He looked at her for a moment, and hummed as an invitation for her to continue.

“Is that just the way you go about? Or does it have a deeper meaning behind it all?”

“Doesn’t people’s behaviour always have a deeper meaning behind it?”

“I suppose so. Something you’re not willing to talk about, then?”

“Perhaps when you decide to tell me why I found you crying on the curb,” he replied curiously.

She smirked, “Well, I’m not sure what you were doing parading the streets, but you were walking, and then you found me. Coincidence, I suppose.”

He shot her a look. “You know what I mean.”

She sighed, but as she was figuring out the right words to say, it appeared that they had already reached their ‘secret location’.

 It was a small square, tucked into the corner of town, with a big round fountain in the middle. Sculpted fish were spraying water onto the levels below, and the stream was a soothing noise against the silent street. The buildings surrounding it had their shutters closed, and the way they towered over the small space made it seem like they had walked into a private garden.

But the odd thing was, is that she recognized that fountain, very clearly.

“I…”

“Yes?” Alex asked.

“I… I thought they’d tore down that fountain when I was younger. The whole street, in fact.”

The man next to her seemed to tense. “Well, it seems not.”

“…It seems not.” She had kind of wanted to question him further on the matter, but as the pieces were slowly connecting in her head, she decided to wait until the conclusion she was drawing was entirely certain.

Alex set down the basket, and sat on the stone bench facing the sculpture. “So, how’s the wedding planning going?”

Just the thought of it made tears well up in her eyes again, which he quickly took notice of.

“All right, you could’ve just told me to fuck right off when I opened my mouth.”

She snorted, taking a seat next to him and reaching for a piece of bread. “I’m sorry. I just- That’s the exact thing that has gotten me riled up today.”

“How come?”

The genuine interest was refreshing to her, and it made her feel brave enough to continue. “Well, Mark just thought it would be best to change the venue’s location, since a lot of people would be coming and all that. I kind of ended up agreeing with him, taking into consideration that everyone needed to fly out to France for a singular day. But now my mum is disappointed that I’m not going through with my big wedding plans, and I’ve honestly been doubting every decision I’ve been making since the get-go.”

He nodded with his lips pursed in thought. “I think cheese solves a lot of problems.” He handed her a piece of Gouda. “But if I may ask, what do you want?”

She gave him a confused look.

“I’ve only heard you mention what your fiancée wants, and what your mother wants, and that you don’t want to disappoint either of them. But I haven’t heard you talk about your dream wedding yet. It’s like you care about everyone’s opinions except for your own. And it seems like Mark doesn’t care much for it, either.”

She opened her mouth in protest, “Of course Mark cares! He’s only thinking about practicality, and our future.”

Alex took a languid sip of his glass before replying. “Love, if you want to marry someone, practicality shouldn’t matter if it means you get to hold the wedding your sweetheart has always dreamed about.”

“I don’t need your judgement on my love life.”

“No, but you asked for it anyway. I can’t tell you what to do; it’s your life. All I’m going to say is, make it count. You’re not getting a second shot at it. If you want to go through the rigmarole of a big wedding with a guest list that never ends and a dress that blinds people with the amount of diamonds on it, then you should do it. Not because I told you so, but because you want to do it.”

She knew he was right, but was afraid to admit it. “I… I don’t want a big wedding.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want it to be private. Just family and friends. In a vineyard somewhere in France.”

He threw his hands up. “Then there you have it.”

“It’s not that easy, Alex. This isn’t all about me. Relationships call for compromise, not selfishness.”

He suddenly took her hand, and pulled her along the square until they’d reached the fountain. He took a coin out of his pocket, and held it out to her.

“What?”

He thrust his palm into her direction once more, but seemed quite reluctant to do so. “Take it, make a wish, and throw it into the fountain.”

“Alex-“

“Might as well give it a go. What do you have to lose?”

She sighed. Though reluctantly, she did as told, and closed her eyes. The slight ‘plop’ of the penny falling into the water was barely heard over the stream.

“You can thank me later,” Alex said.

But as he turned his back to her, she was feeling impulsive, and grabbed his shoulders and thrust him backwards.

This time, the splash was heard.

She clasped her hands in front of her mouth to keep herself from laughing at the drenched figure of Alex Turner, sitting awkwardly in a fountain. Oh, and how he looked absolutely pissed. Pissed was an understatement. He looked furious.

“You’re going to regret that.”

“Oh, am I-“

She shrieked, as two cold hands pulled her into the water with him.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll Chapter Two

Read on AO3

“Mrs. Randall, ye have a visitor.” Claire stared at the nurse, curiosity plain on her face. 

 She left and softly closed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire heard the click of the lock again and strained her neck towards the noise. 

 Graham smiled sheepishly as he shuffled into her room. He held a small bouquet of heather, thistles, and gorse wrapped in twine. 

 “Hello miss, tis lovely tae see ye again. I picked these just this afternoon on my way here. I was lucky they were all so close together.” The boy searched the room and put the flowers in the empty vase on the table to her right. “I don’t know if ye remember, but I found you up at the standing stones. Well my mam always said to watch out for the faerie hill but I was a wee bit curious ye ken. I’m glad I took a wander over because… sorry miss my mam always tells me how I go blethering on about nonsense and such so that’s just to say I hope you are feeling better miss..?” 

 “Claire Fr.. err Randall.” Claire couldn’t help the smile at the young man's youth and almost naïveté, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the ordeals of the past months.

 She reached out her hand for him to shake. 

 “It was very kind of you to come visit Graham. Thank you.” He blushed at her compliment.

 “Well I brought some cards because I ken how boring it is to be locked up in one of these rooms. And the radio is a pounding nuisance sometimes as well. Last year I stumbled on one of the fence posts I was putting up when I was helping down at auld Hamish’s. The nail went straight through the leg and I ended up here a day. Mam was absolutely furious at me, boxed my ears till they rang for weeks. My mam’s a nurse here so it’s no trouble at all that I’m here right now visiting. I guess I get special insider privileges. I come here after school to do my schoolwork and she says I’m no bother. That’s what I was just doing before I decided to pop in here Miss.”

 Claire welcomed the ramblings of Graham. It was a nice distraction to the morbid thoughts that lay festering below.

 “Well I appreciate the company. My… husband just left to prepare things for our short stay here. I’m sorry I’m rubbish at most card games, but I’ll go my hand at it.” 

 The two chatted companionably and he even managed to pry out a laugh or two from her. Claire pushed down feelings of familiarity of Fergus and the boy before her. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than the boy she had just left behind hours ago, with the same long-lashed dark eyes and dark hair. Tears sprung at the thought of her son and she turned out of view to wipe them away. 

 “Do you have any fours?” Graham interrupted her thoughts. 

 “Ach! It feels like I’m being cheated here.” Claire flashed a smile and pushed forward the two cards on the table between them.

 “Hello darling. It seems you’ve made a new friend.”

 Claire stiffened at her husband's entrance into the small hospital room. Graham flicked his gaze between the two of them, sensing the tension. He awkwardly picked up the game in front of them and shoved the cards into his pocket.  

 “Yes. This is Graham Munro, the one who helped me to the hospital.”

 “Thank you for bringing my wife safely back into my custody Graham. I’m sure she has lots to tell me, and would appreciate time to rest.”

 Graham cleared his throat. “Well Miss Claire, I wish ye a speedy recovery. Twas a pleasure to meet ye.” 

 “You as well Graham. Thank you for the flowers.”

 The boy reached out to squeeze Claire’s hand and smiled warmly. He turned on his heel and raced out to the corridor. 

 Moments later, Frank shoved the table to the side and knelt by his wife’s side. He reached out to hold the hands that rested on her lap. Claire flinched at his touch once again and Frank furrowed his brow. Frank felt a squeeze in his hand and smiled up at her. She put on a strained smile as she stared down at him. He finally noticed the silver that encircled her right ring finger and made to take it off. She pulled her hand violently from his grasp and guarded the jewellry to her chest. He pushed off the reaction to the shock the doctor had described. He just needed to be patient. 

 “Darling, everything is prepared at the manse for our arrival. You’ll rest here tonight, recover, heal, and then I’ll bring you over in the morning. I left your suitcase there and I’m sure you’ll have enough to get you through our stay.” He walked over to a chair near the window while he spoke and placed her stays in his hands. 

 “Alright.” Her gaze was transfixed on her fingers in her lap. 

 “This is… remarkable Claire, where on earth did you find these?” 

 “Hmph.” Claire offered as a reply, almost mimicking the Scottish noise her husband always made.

 “Right I’m to leave with Reverend Wakefield to visit over some archives again. You’ll be in good hands here for now.” 

 A nurse wheeled in a cart and instructed Claire to rest. She gathered the sterile bandages from the metal tray and pulled back the cover of Claire’s hospital gown to display the burns flicking across the cream skin of her stomach. She winced as the nurse applied the salve against her sore skin so she took pity on her poor patient. The nurse pushed a syringe into her IV line and Claire’s limbs instantly relaxed. Her head filled with cotton and she wasn’t able to hold it up herself, until she let go of the tension within herself and slumped down on the stiff mattress. 

 It was cold and she was only in her shift, a white shawl draped across her shoulders. Piles of men dotted the ground and a bunny twitched its nose at her before sprinting away. There, underneath the corpse of his enemy, lay her husband. His body was covered in blood and crusted with dirt and deep scratches marked his body: the result of war. 

 “Are you alive?” She stretched her hand out towards his cheek.  

 Her hand cupped his stumbled jaw and his skin blazed against hers. The fever shook his body and sapped his energy. What little he had left was spent twisting his neck in her direction. A light dusting of snow covered the bloody grass of the moor. All too soon, she was pulled away and the sight of him faded from her grasp. 

***

The hours passed and the logs burned to small sticks, Frank replacing them every so often with new wood. He turned towards the table that held a half-empty glass, plying himself more and more with alcohol as the glass drowned in the weight of the drink. Claire worked tirelessly the precious few days where her husband hadn’t yet pressed her for an explanation, flipping through all available resources to find any trace of Jamie. Mrs. Graham had been a wonder in helping Claire but her attitude regardless would not have changed anything. The search was futile and failed to bring what she wanted. She couldn’t look for the family that was alive that she had left behind. The sacrifice and promise she made meant nothing with the outcome that soon became her every thought. She abandoned them all for a thought of a future, not even a live, breathing one.

 She spoke of her time with Jamie, reluctantly giving only the necessary pieces of her life, an outline that she would be able to view events from outside. She stepped out of her life and watched herself ramble on, an outsider and onlooker to a tragic event. That wasn’t her, those things couldn’t have happened to her. Claire finished her final thoughts in a daze, looking anywhere but Frank. 

 “Give me-excuse me please Claire I need some time to think this over.”

 Claire poured another glass for herself and slammed the burning liquid back along with a large pill from the hospital.

 Frank returned a few hours later, having thought in great depth. Claire’s thoughts were muddled. She couldn’t remember how many glasses she had.

 “Claire I can accept that you’ve had this… relationship with this man. I will never understand your feelings for him, but I can accept that you had this experience, and that leaving him broke your heart.” 

 “I don’t think you understand. I was with a man for two years, and I loved him deeply as his wife.” 

 “A point you’ve made several times and which I’ve said I understand. Now let me tell you this. I love you Claire, unconditionally, nothing you could do could stop my loving you.” 

 “Darling I’ve been offered a position at Harvard. I was thinking we could move to Boston together. Start over. Leave all...this behind.”

 She didn’t care. He was dead. She might as well have been too. Frank could do as he bloody well pleased. Her mind focused on the patterns of the carpet below her, forcing out any other thoughts. Her finger swirled in spirals in one spot on her thigh, mimicking what she saw.

 “Alright. ” 

 That was the first time Claire had looked into his eyes since her disappearance. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in an attempt towards a smile to his wife. She couldn’t find the malice she desperately searched for. She needed the anger, the sharp coldness. It was too much. Frank kneeled at Claire’s feet and he reached to pull her down into his embrace. He brought her down to his chest. She stiffened. 

 “Claire, you've made me so happy. I know we’ll be happy. Together.” 

 “T-together? You mean for me to come along?” 

 “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

 Claire only nodded in response. She knew she’d never be happy with Frank anymore, or anyone for that matter. She didn’t intend to live long, but what option did she have to resist a husband? Frank kissed her curls and pulled her head to his shoulder. He sniffled and pulled back, placing both hands gently on her face. 

 “But we must put the past behind us. You must promise me. No more searching for him. Let him go.”

 “Yes. That’s what he made me promise.” She was reminded of another promise she had broken and another pang stabbed her already distressed heart.

[crew-of-the-detz]

Before (teaser)

Kev flipped on the lights and stepped inside. The TV was still on, he walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote before turning it off. Another late night at the office. Groggily he made is way to the hatchery, wanting to check up on his pre-hatched son. Under the bright light, he swore he could see his son move inside his egg shell prison. Content having seen his son, he fumbled his way into the bedroom and flopped down with an undignified plop.

"Hello to you to Mr. Kev." The Duajhaq woman already under sheets said. "Late night?"

"Hello Mrs. Kev." Ylin replied. "Yeah, late night."

Klove had a hell of a day. Higher ups were wanting the new equipment developed two weeks ahead of schedule, he had been spending all day reformulating the compounds used and honestly just needed a break.

He opened the door to his appartment and saw standing there a half dressed Josephine standing over the stove frying something in a pan. Klove walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, "Josie you sweet darling beautiful angelic creature, how have you been my love?"

Josephine laughed and traced her right hand along his left arm, "I'm doing just fine. Rough day? Heard Heidi talking about moving a project up."

Klove sat down at the table in his small kitchen, "Yes. You know," he picked up a fork and jabed his point into the air "some people have no respect for the genius it takes to make these things."

Pamela Johansson stepped up to her new commander, Commander Lee of the Foxtrot. She saluted, "Lead engineer Pamela Johansson reporting for duty, sir!"

Lee looked back at her, "Ah, Johansson, welcome. I've heard nothing but good things about you. You'll begin work right away, head to engineering and find Mike Husch, he'll get you squared away."

(More to come, both with these characters and the others. Sorry its been a hit minute since Ive posted anything, life right?)

[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae)

Week IV pt. 2

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5  |  Chapter 6  | Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  |  Masterlist

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 6k

In the days that followed, Taeyong declared that he was giving himself three short-term goals.  “Oh yeah?” Yuta asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.  “What would those be?” Taeyong elaborated: Goal number one was for Taeyong to get his friends, new and newer, to help him be a better gangster.  So, Yuta arranged for Sicheng and Yukhei to take Taeyong to the training room for workouts and, once he’d confirmed Taeyong was comfortable with it, to have Ten give him more “lessons.”  Yuta had sat in on their first session, watching in pained silence as Ten used one of his long metal pins to tether Taeyong to the ground through his shoe and then attacked him.  Yuta then enlisted Dejun, Yangyang, and Kunhang to teach Taeyong (and Mark and Jungwoo for good measure – they needed some review) how to follow people effectively and avoid being followed.  According to Taeyong’s recounting, it had been exactly like Yuta’s own training, each of the Inagawa members taking turns slinking around the backstreets of Kabuki-chō and getting critiqued by the Triads afterwards.  Yuta let Taeyong hang around when he discussed strategy and finances with Doyoung, Taeil, Johnny, and Jaehyun.  Taeyong didn’t really understand any of it, nor did he need to, but Yuta figured it was good for him to feel like he was getting the whole picture.

Taeyong’s second goal, he said with almost too much confidence, was to get Yuta to fuck him as much as possible without it becoming a distraction, and it’d been going well for both of them.  Taeyong had slept over at Yuta’s place three out of the last four nights and Yuta started taking a kind of dirty pride in the way his regiment grew used to seeing Taeyong in his clothing.  They’d started experimenting explicitly with dom/sub dynamics and their own kinks, one of Yuta’s favorite moments coming when Taeyong accompanied him home after a long day.  He’d fixed himself a drink and sat, legs spread over his couch and arms elongated over its back, the drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  Since that night, Yuta had to stop himself intermittently from getting half-hard at the memory of Taeyong trying to get off grinding on his thigh, Yuta more or less ignoring him as his clothes soaked through with his sweat and he cried in frustration into Yuta’s shoulder for him to just do something – touch him, degrade him, anything.  Yuta even impressed himself with the willpower he’d used to keep Taeyong strung out like that.  So yeah, Taeyong’s second goal was going just fine, Yuta would say.

Goal number three was the most complicated:  It was for Taeyong to make up his mind about what he’d do after the Mitsubishi deal (hopefully) went through.  As promised, Yuta tried to remain removed from Taeyong’s decision making process, even if Taeyong would sometimes come to him with questions.  Would they be able to keep seeing each other? Whether Taeyong stayed or left, they could still be together, Yuta had answered, although part of him worried that if Taeyong left he’d find someone he liked better the minute they no longer shared a lifestyle.  But that wouldn’t be the case if Taeyong left after officially joining, right?  Taeyong had clarified.  If he changed his mind too late?  That’s right, if you leave too late, you leave everything for good.  It’s okay, Yuta had told him, don’t force yourself into a decision until the deal’s been worked out.    

Yuta’s goal, on the other hand, was simply to stay sane and focused, and enjoy everything while it lasted.  Specifically, he wanted to enjoy cooking takoyaki, Osaka’s specialty food, for Taeyong one night after a rare day off, and he wanted Taeyong to enjoy eating it.  He wandered around Taeyong’s kitchen, alternating between muttering to himself and asking Taeyong why the hell it was so hard to find anything in there.  Yuta paused before his metal mixing bowl, trying to remember what the next ingredient for the batter was supposed to be.  

“You sure you don’t want help, babe?” Taeyong asked, and Yuta looked over to where he was sitting on the little table he kept in the kitchen, swinging his legs over the edge and giving Yuta moon eyes.  He almost laughed.  Taeyong had been nervous to have Yuta over, endlessly denigrating his apartment to the point that Yuta would have thought he was being invited over to a literal shack if he hadn’t already seen the building once, so Yuta made a point of fawning over the small space the second he arrived.

“No, darling,” replied Yuta to Taeyong’s question.  “I told you, this is my treat.”

Taeyong shrugged as a new Blondie song started to play from his record player in the living room.  “Suit yourself.”  Yuta stretched his shoulders, finally remembering that the egg was supposed to come next.  He’d learned how to cook from his mom, but that meant that sometimes his recipes were more like distant memories from ten to fifteen years ago.  Yuta hummed along to the music, turning to search for the egg carton in the fridge.

“So, can we go over this one more time so I don’t screw it up?” Taeyong asked.  Yuta was losing track of the number of times Taeyong had already been briefed on their plans for Minatozaki Sana, but if he needed to hear it again to feel secure, Yuta supposed he’d play along.  

“Sure,” Yuta confirmed, cracking one egg into the half-finished batter.  “But there’s really not that much you have to do, Taeyong.  I just told you the whole plan so you won’t be caught off guard by anything.”

Taeyong practically buzzed against the table below him. “Right, so basically I’m going to stand by her door while you and Doyoung convince her to flip on Yamaguchi.  There’s a window in the entryway, so I’ll have an easy view out if anyone comes, but I need to be sure not to be seen from the other end.”

“Exactly,” said Yuta, whisking.  The yellow yolk was swirling into the sticky mixture like streaks in hair.  “I don’t anticipate it taking too long, but I can’t make any promises.  If she resists, you just stay at your post and we’ll deal with her, unless she makes it all the way to her front door or something.”

Taeyong nodded, his legs knocking against the table’s. “What’s ‘not too long?’” he asked.

Yuta thought for a moment.  “Twenty minutes to an hour.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”  Yuta finished mixing his batter and tapped the butt of the bowl against the counter several times, looking quizzically at Taeyong.  “Is that all clear?  Can we talk about something not work-related now?”

Taeyong smiled.  “Yeah we can,” he agreed, and Yuta let out a sigh of a laugh.  “Like what?  Is gang talk stressing you out?”    

Yuta sniffed the batter.  It smelled like it had enough dashi in it, so he figured it was fine.  Now where did Taeyong keep his soy sauce?  He rattled through Taeyong’s drawers as he answered.

“Honestly, a little bit.  This is the most responsibility I’ve ever been given, and I want it to go well.”

When Yuta looked back to Taeyong, soy sauce triumphantly in hand, Taeyong’s face had contorted to show his own worry.

“Wait, you’re really anxious about it?” he asked.  “I was sorta joking.”

Yuta set the bottle down on Taeyong’s green plastic countertop, making his way to the table.

Taeyong pouted as Yuta’s palms pressed over his soft cheeks.  “I’m a little anxious,” Yuta admitted, a warm feeling flashing through his chest at the sight of Taeyong’s face all squished up, “but I gave you your job description and worrying about my anxiety is not included.  Got it?”

Taeyong smiled sheepishly.  “Got it.”

Yuta let go of Taeyong’s face and returned to his cooking project.  “Just wanted some time together where I didn’t have to worry about work.”  He dumped some of the soy sauce into his batter and started to stir again.  He registered a little giggle coming from Taeyong.

“Anything I can do to help destress you?” he asked slyly.  Yuta mixed harder.

“Yonggie, now is not the time…”

Taeyong just shook his head.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yuta tried to ignore the not-so-subtle look Taeyong was giving him, opting to divert the conversation to ask where Taeyong’s takoyaki griddle was.  Taeyong hopped off the table, mouthing the words to “Heart of Glass.”

“I’ll get it,” he offered, crouching next to the low cabinet where he kept his pots and pans and extracting the desired item.

“Thanks.”    

Taeyong leaned against his counter and watched Yuta rub oil over and then pour the batter into the six half-spheres in the cast iron griddle.  Yuta inserted the octopus bits, tenkasu , beni shoga , and sauce into the center of each raw takoyaki, conscious of every movement under Taeyong’s sticky gaze but trying to relax by listening to Taeyong’s whispery singing.  Once sufficiently prepped, Yuta brought the griddle over to the table and turned it on, sitting to watch the food cook.  Taeyong sat across from him, laying his head against the wooden tabletop and blinking as heat started to sizzle from the takoyaki.

Yuta sighed, thinking.  Taeyong made him think a lot about a lot of things.  Some of it was serious like, was their relationship sustainable?  Was he blinded by his infatuation and risking too much for someone he’d know for barely more than a month?  Was Taeyong going to end up hurt?  Because if he did, it would be squarely Yuta’s fault.  Mostly though, the thoughts Taeyong prompted in Yuta’s head were less dire but just as invasive.  Yuta felt a rush at how gorgeous Taeyong looked like that, sleepily gazing and allowing himself to receive the care of someone else’s cooking.  On second thought …    

“Hey, so I know I just said now is not the time,” Yuta began, rolling his sleeves up as he registered the room warming and noticing Taeyong’s eyes on his arms, “but there might be something that would help me destress.  But uh, you might think it’s a little early, I’m not sure.”

Taeyong sat up, smiling.  “Oh?”  

“I think it would be fun to spend a night at a love hotel,” Yuta admitted, and a splotch of oil jumped out of the griddle as if to punish him for being pushy.  “ Ita !”  

Taeyong just grinned.  “Yuta,” he began, crossing his arms over the table, “why is that such a big deal?”

Yuta sighed, feeling like he was about to get laughed at.  “Because, I don’t want to take you to just any love hotel,” he explained.  He figured he’d gotten himself this far, he might as well finish digging his own grave. “I want to take you to the Alpha Inn.”  To his surprise, Taeyong didn’t laugh, nor did he look confused; his grin only stretched wider, giving him crow’s feet around his eyes. Yuta wondered if he needed to clarify what he’d said.  “It’s –”

“I know what the Alpha Inn is,” Taeyong blurted.

Yuta felt his face go small, the sizzling of the takoyaki turning to static in his ears.  “Oh, then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Taeyong explained, “I was waiting for you to tell me why you were being weird about it.”

“Oh,” Yuta repeated, and Taeyong pressed on.

“So why were you?  I mean, we’ve already kind of established that we both like that kind of thing, right?”

Yuta was beginning to feel like a first-class idiot.  “Yeah,” he tried to backtrack, “but I think it’s a bit different from anything we’ve discussed.  There are whips and stuff on the walls there and…”

Yuta hadn’t managed to finish his sentence before Taeyong was laughing in his face.

“Yuta,” he said, “have you been there before?”

“Yeah, I have,” Yuta explained, growing indignant, “but you’re different too.”  Taeyong’s eyes rounded in curiosity.  “You are! I haven’t had many relationships so when I’ve gone there it’s been, like, with hookups who are there for a specific purpose.”

Taeyong wiggled his eyebrows.  “And what if I told you I’d been there with hookups before too?”

Yuta let out a breath of relief, settling into a more self-assured comportment.  He honestly should have figured.  Taeyong seemed to notice the change in Yuta’s body language, because he wiggled back into his chair, away from the table, and softened his face from the challenging aspect it had taken on before.  Yuta smiled in satisfaction.  “Then, I wouldn’t worry about anything but us enjoying ourselves,” he answered.

Taeyong smiled to himself as he looked at his hands in his lap.  “So, letting you take me to a BDSM-themed love hotel: that’s what I could do to help you destress before next week.  Glad I got that out of you.”

“But there are some things we need to discuss first,” Yuta said, figuring the takoyaki looked adequately brown and standing to find a couple plates and pairs of chopsticks.

Taeyong nodded.  “Of course.”

Yuta returned, having found what he was looking for with surprising ease.

“First of which being that we have to change up the title, ‘kay?”  He sat and turned the griddle off, using his metal chopsticks to pull out two takoyaki balls.  “No more Shategashira during sex.  I can’t be getting hard every time anyone talks to me at work.”

Yuta slid a plate of food over to Taeyong.  “That’s fair.  What should I call you, then?”

Yuta blew on his dinner.  “Sir?  Does that work?”

Taeyong smiled.  “Yes, sir .”  And Yuta smiled back.

“Perfect,” he remarked, hand reaching out to Taeyong’s hair on instinct. “You’re perfect.”

Taeyong nuzzled into Yuta’s touch, whining when Yuta pulled away.  Yuta was happy to have taken back control of the situation, but he also figured he needed to change the topic of conversation if he was going to be able to focus on his food.  Thankfully, Taeyong did it for him, picking up a ball of takoyaki and holding it near his face, expression contemplative.

“Smells good,” he said.  He blew on it until it had stopped steaming, then nibbled experimentally after a quick "itadakimasu."  Yuta still held off, all too familiar with the treacherousness of eating takoyaki.

“How is it?” he asked as Taeyong broke through to the molten center.  He paused.

“Yuta?” Taeyong began, holding the takoyaki to show off the liquidy center.  He started laughing and Yuta found himself hurled back into embarrassment.  “I don’t think it’s cooked all the way…”

“Shit, sorry!” Yuta spluttered.  “Here, give it back!”

Taeyong guffawed, letting some of the hot but nearly raw batter fall from his mouth to his cupped hand.  “What?”

“Just give it here!”

“Okay…” Taeyong handed over the mangled ball and watched Yuta return it to its iron slot, switching the griddle back on and trying to look competent.

“Guess this will have to do,” he said, placing his own serving back to cook more as well.  Yuta smiled to himself, propping the side of his head against his fist and his elbow on the table.  Taeyong smiled back and said in a small voice,

“I thought you knew what you were doing, Osaka boy.  I’m a good cook, you could have just let me help.”

Yuta shrugged.  “Maybe I oversold myself.  This’ll work though.”

Taeyong made a pained face (“I’m so hungry though”) and Yuta rolled his eyes.  

He became suddenly hyper-aware of the silence framing their conversation, so he got up to switch out the finished album while the food got done cooking.  

“What do you want me to play?”

“Kate Bush!” Taeyong yelled in response.  “’The Dreaming’ should be sitting right next to the record player.”

Yuta replaced “Parallel Lines” with Taeyong’s suggestion, dropped the pin, and returned to the kitchen as “Sat In Your Lap” began to play.  He also realized he forgot the mayo and the bonito for their dinner, and puttered around the kitchen again to find them, feeling like even more of a dumbass than he had for undercooking the food.  The takoyaki came out much better the second time around, and once it had cooled off, it was gone in a fraction of the time Yuta had spent making it.

“Okay, I guess you do know what you’re doing,” Taeyong admitted, his mouth contorting around a particularly large bite.

After eating, Taeyong insisted on doing the dishes.  Yuta took on Taeyong’s former position watching from the table, thinking to himself how lovely he looked in an apron, focused on getting everything spick and span.  Fuck, it was so domestic, and Yuta hadn’t had anything like it in so long.  Yuta was so shaken up about it he felt like the takoyaki in his stomach was trying to bust out through his belly button.

Taeyong glanced at his admirer as he scratched the suds from his hands into the sink.  “Stop looking at me like that,” he said.

For a mobster, Yuta had kind of a bad poker face when he wasn’t focused enough on it.  “Like what?”

“Like you want to…I don’t know, make me a housewife.”

Yuta rested his face in his hands.  “What if I do?”

Taeyong chuckled.  “First of all, that’s quite literally impossible.  Second of all, it makes me feel weird.”

“Weird how?”

Taeyong dried the metal mixing bowl as he spoke.  “Not sure how to explain it,” he said.  “Kind of itchy.  Like I want to hide?”

Yuta tried to calm down so he could stop the fascination from practically dripping over his face.  “Sorry.”

Taeyong put the bowl away.  “S’okay.  I’m also flattered.  Thanks for cooking, by the way – even if I gave you shit about it.”

“Of course.  It was kind of fun.”

Taeyong finished drying off and putting everything away, took off his apron, and suggested they retire to the living room couch to listen to their music.

Yuta sat down and let Taeyong situate himself so that he was lying down, head in Yuta’s lap.  Yuta played with Taeyong’s hair.

“Yuta?”

“Mm?”

Taeyong’s face had an air of stress about it, not like there was anything truly wrong, but more like he had a thought he needed to sort out.

“How did you figure out you liked guys?”

Yuta took a moment to process.  That was not what he expected Taeyong to ask.

“Oh, um, I don’t know, how did you figure it out?”

Taeyong scowled.  “I mean eventually it just sort of became obvious,” he said.

“Exactly,” Yuta confirmed.  “So, that’s not really what you’re asking, is it?”

Taeyong shook his head, skull rocking against Yuta’s thighs.

“Guess not,” he allowed, “How old were you though?  When you realized?”

Yuta pulled a strand of Taeyong’s dark hair until it stood on end.  “I don’t know, late teens probably, when I really sorted it out?” Yuta chuckled, calling upon some well-repressed memories.  “I had tried fooling around with girls at that point, and it wasn’t bad, actually.  I was very sure I was straight.  I liked the girls I was with – had a real fondness for most of them, but it was never very deep.  Momo and I even hooked up once.” Yuta laughed wryly as he watched a look of shock and, maybe jealousy? flicker over Taeyong’s face.  “Don’t worry,” he reassured.  “It was alright for me, but she made it very clear that it was never to happen again.”

Taeyong hummed thoughtfully.  Yuta wanted to grill him back, but it looked like he had another question brewing, so he stayed quiet.  “So, who was the first guy?”

Yuta breathed a laugh.  “Well, he was actually my boss when I was a Kumi-in…”

Taeyong’s eyes lit up. “Like us?”

“Kind of.  He was older though,” Yuta clarified.  He smiled, both in recollection and in amusement as he registered the dissonance between Kate Bush’s wailing singing and their quiet conversation.  “I remember thinking to myself, oh, now I know what this whole thing is supposed to feel like.”  By “thing” he meant to express the nebulous concept of attraction, love, relationships, lust; all those intangibles which tug at the heartstrings.  He hoped Taeyong would understand despite his lack of eloquence.  “He was the one who convinced me to go to the Alpha Inn the first time, but, uh, I was the one taking the orders back then.”

“What happened to him?” asked Taeyong, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands.  

“He decided this life wasn’t for him, so he left.  And, you know, if you do that you get excommunicated, banished – whatever you want to call it – so I haven’t heard from him since.”

Taeyong looked like he wanted to say something, then didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.  

The apology made a pang of guilt run through Yuta.  Here he was telling the sob story of his first love in front of poor Taeyong.  If he got uncomfortable hearing about Momo, why would he want to know this?  “Don’t be sorry.  I have you now,” Yuta said with a smile, and he meant it deeply.  

Taeyong sat up and sighed, eyes clouded over. “I just feel like this would be a lot easier if I wasn’t…you know…me.”  

Yuta felt like he had cold water rushing over his skin.  What was Taeyong getting at? “No, I don’t know,” he challenged.  

Taeyong refused to make eye contact and Yuta thought he saw the other man’s skin tone draining a bit grey.  “I keep thinking about Johnny and Mina,” Taeyong tried to explain.  “They seem so normal.  Like, they know what each of them is there for.  I don’t know how to explain it.  I just feel like if I were a woman it’d be easier and make more sense.  I wouldn’t be weirdly wrapped up in your work and having to make all these dire decisions and putting you in danger.  We could just see each other like average people.”

Yuta didn’t know if he wanted to cry or laugh.  He settled instead for gripping Taeyong’s chin with his fingers and forcing their eyes to meet.  “Taeyong,” he said softly, “I think you’re missing the point.”

Taeyong’s eyes looked glassy.  “Which is?”

“Which is that if you were a woman A) we probably wouldn’t have met in the first place, and B) I wouldn’t be as interested in you.” Yuta searched Taeyong’s face, awaiting a response.

“You mean that?” he asked, finally.

Yuta let go of Taeyong’s face.  “I do.  Why would I be lying?”

Taeyong smiled slightly.  “I dunno.  Sometimes you lie for fun.”

“God, Taeyong, not about stuff like this.”

“Alright,” Taeyong said, letting his smile extend and settling his back more squarely into the couch cushions.  “Sorry for being so insecure.”

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand.  “You and me both, baby.”

“Houdini” started to play and Taeyong closed his eyes, mentioning absently that it was his favorite song on the album.  When it was over, he spoke again.

“Mina warned me at the party,” he said, and Yuta was put on immediate alert by the threatening vagueness of the statement.  “Back at Johnny’s bar, we started talking.  She said I should leave as soon as possible and not get sucked in.”

Yuta stiffened, training his eyes on the stains in Taeyong’s rug and making a mental note to bring this up to Johnny.  “Well,” he began, “that’s her opinion.  It’s up to you to make up your own mind.”

“I know.”

Yuta laughed breathily, catching Taeyong’s drift.  “So, she told you that and then you immediately turned around and landed in my lap; let me pull you in deeper.  Was that a sort of decision?”

Taeyong nodded, squeezing Yuta’s hand.  “Maybe.  I just wanted it at the time.  I wanted a real reason to stay.”

Yuta tutted.  “I told you not to make me the clincher for such an important choice.”

“Yeah, but that was after,” Taeyong asserted.  “I think I’d already decided early on, even if I didn’t want to admit it.  Yuta?”

“Taeyong.”

He looked Yuta right in the eyes.  “I’m going to stay.  I invited you over tonight to tell you that I’m sure I want to join the Inagawa-kai.  I just didn’t know how to bring it up until right now.”

Yuta could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, like he was a candle wick being sparked; like he was about to go on a mission.  He was exhilarated at the idea that he’d fully gained Taeyong’s trust and admiration, that they would continue on as they had been; but at the same time, the possibility that Taeyong could get hurt or decide too late that he’d gone down the wrong path made Yuta’s blood run cold.

“You’re sure?”

Taeyong nodded.  “Yeah, I am.”  He looked at Yuta and smiled sideways.  “When do I get initiated?”

Yuta didn’t know how to respond to Taeyong’s sudden burst of self-assuredness.  “Well – uh – the Oyabun won’t let you until our current project is secured –”

Taeyong pouted.

“But!” Yuta had an idea.  “But, but, but, if you want, we can do something fun right now that might help.”  Yuta stood, about to head off to the kitchen until he remembered he didn’t know where anything was.

“What is it?”

Yuta placed a finger in front of his mouth.  “It’s a secret,” he whispered.  “But I need you to help me find some things.”

In a matter of minutes, they were back in the living room, couched in silence with the music having run out and kneeling at either side of Taeyong’s coffee table.  Between them, Yuta had set two empty masu cups, a bottle of amazake (since Taeyong didn’t have normal sake), and the knife that Yuta always carried around with him: medium-size and gunmetal grey with teeth like the one in the Rambo movie that had come out a year before.  Taeyong had stared at it almost in horror when Yuta took it out.

“Okay,” Taeyong said, eyes roaming over their spread.  “Now will you please explain this to me?”

“Sure,” Yuta agreed, grinning at his own creativity.  “So, you said you wanted to be initiated,” he began, “but you can’t technically do that for a bit, so I’m going to give you a little run-through; a rehearsal of sorts that can prepare you for the real thing while also making you feel more official right now.”

Taeyong nodded, looking sold.  “Okay.  What’s the knife for?”

“For when I sacrifice you to Amaterasu,” he deadpanned, and for a moment, Taeyong actually gaped.

“No, I kid,” Yuta said, cracking himself up.  “We’ll get to what the knife’s for in a second.”

Taeyong let out a confused breath, making Yuta laugh even harder.  Once he had contained himself, he went on.

“So, this will be the setup when you’re initiated.  Ideally there’d be witnesses, but you know.”  He shrugged.  “Okay, and you should know that I am standing in for the Oyabun .”

“You’re Goro?” Taeyong clarified.

Yuta nodded, pressing a hand to his chest.  “Yes, I’m Goro, who I don’t think you’ve met yet, by the way.”  Taeyong shook his head in confirmation.  “Soon enough, then.  You’re you, and what we’re going to do first is you’re going to hold out your cup to me and I’ll fill it halfway with sake.”

Taeyong followed directions, prostrating himself ever so slightly as he offered Yuta his cup and watched him pour the cloudy liquid inside.  Then, Yuta did the same with his own cup, passing the halfway point and filling it to the brim, images of his own initiation six years earlier flashing across his vision.  He’d been a baby in an ill-fitting black suit and Goro had looked more imposing to him than usual – like Mt. Fuji on a clear day.  He picked up the knife, remembering the sharp taste of Goro’s blood in a particularly strong batch of sake.

“Now we switch cups,” he instructed, and Taeyong obliged, eyes trained on Yuta’s knife.  They went wide when Yuta positioned his hand over Taeyong’s sake and cradled the blade so that it was invisible in his palm, although the implied pressure and discomfort made Taeyong’s face contort.  Yuta sliced shallowly into his palm, careful to adhere to the lines of his old scar as much as possible.  Taeyong’s gaze followed as a ruby droplet fell and dispersed into the alcoholic liquid.

“We could just get a raspberry or something if you have one and crush it into the other cup,” Yuta teased, “if you don’t want to do this.”  He grinned when Taeyong shook his head quickly.

“No, I can do it, Shategashira .”

“Good.”  Yuta wiped the blood from the knife onto a paper towel and handed the blade to Taeyong, who took it hesitantly.  “Just do the pad of your thumb for now,” Yuta suggested.  Taeyong hissed a bit as he cut into the flesh there and pressed down to force out a rivulet of blood.  Yuta realized he’d made a slight oversight when he registered that each of them now had one bloodied hand.  In the real ritual, this fact would have been ignored, but Yuta was already testing Taeyong and he didn’t want to also stain his nice bamboo cups.

“Gimme a sec,” he said, finding his leather jacket in the entryway and rooting around in it one-handed for another thing he always kept with him: bandage tape.  He called Taeyong into the kitchen and they took turns washing up and covering their self-inflicted wounds.  Yuta registered neutrally the kind of hazy and quiet state Taeyong was in.  Finally, they returned to the coffee table for the next leg of the ritual, starting off by switching their drinks back so Yuta had a full cup with Taeyong’s blood and Taeyong had a half cup with Yuta’s.

“What now?” Taeyong asked.

“Now,” Yuta answered, “you take the seihai-gishiki ; the oath of allegiance to me, Hirai Goro.” They both laughed at that.  “Repeat after me okay?”

“Okay.”

Yuta flexed his hand, still adjusting to the feeling of raw openness under the pink-tinged bandages.  "I vow never to reveal the secrets of the organization.”

“I vow to never reveal the secrets of the organization.”

“I will never violate the wife or children of another member.”

Taeyong balked.  “Wait, that’s kind of messed up,” he said, mouth poised to laugh.  “Why is that there?”

“Aish,” said Yuta in mock disappointment, “good thing I’m running you through this – Goro would never accept this interrupting.  Actually, the first ever yakuza clan in the 1700’s had a real problem with cheating and child molestation, so their boss had to make up this rule to stop it from turning into one giant super-illegal orgy,” he said matter-of-factly.  Taeyong’s eyes went wide.

“Really??”

Yuta frowned.  “No!!  You need to stop being so gullible with everything I tell you.”

Taeyong bowed his head several times while laughing nervously. “Ah, okay, okay, Shategashira .  Gomen , gomen .  Got it.”

Yuta smiled.  Taeyong was so damn cute it made his muscles hurt.  “It’s okay,” he said. “In all seriousness, I have no idea why that rule is there, but it’s a reasonable expectation, anyway.  Shall we move on?”

Taeyong nodded.

“Okay,” Yuta restarted, “I vow to have no personal involvement with narcotics.”

“I vow to have no personal involvement with narcotics,” Taeyong repeated.

“I will not withhold money from the gang.”

“I will not withhold money from the gang.”

“I will not fail in my obedience to superiors.”

Taeyong blinked forcefully and gulped before echoing, “I will not fail in my obedience to superiors.”

“Last one, okay?  I will not appeal to the police or other legal authorities.”

“I will not appeal to the police or other legal authorities.  Now what?”

Yuta picked up his cup with both hands.  “Now we drink.”

Taeyong followed his lead.  “Kanpai.”

“Kanpai.”

The taste of Taeyong’s blood was less harsh mixed in with this sweet type of sake, mellowed and drowned out until it was nothing more than a heady undertone, like the scent of skin.

They put down their cups once they had finished and stared at each other silently for a beat.  Then Taeyong broke into a grin.  “Did I pass?” he asked.

Yuta guffawed.  “Pass? This isn’t an exam.”  He cleared his throat and put on his Hirai Goro voice: gravelly and low and embellished by rolled r’s.  “But uh, yes, well done, Kumi-in.  Welcome to the Inagawa-kai.”

***

After the elaborate rehearsal, they had a bit of cleaning up to do.  Taeyong rinsed their masu cups in the sink as Yuta disinfected his knife and reinforced his bandages.

“The last vow reminded me,” said Taeyong, shutting the water off and setting the cups on the drying rack, “it only occurred to me after Johnny and Mina’s lesson the other day, but what if it’s not another gang that gets ahold of me?  What if it’s the police?  Wouldn’t they also interrogate me?”

Yuta burst out in laughter and Taeyong looked perplexed, leaning his lower back against the kitchen counter.

“Oh, sorry for laughing at you,” Yuta said, collecting himself.  “You’d have no way of knowing this.”  He walked over to join Taeyong.  “You don’t have to worry about the police,” he explained even if Taeyong looked dubious.  “I mean, if we like, killed someone in a public alleyway, sure.”  Taeyong’s eyes flickered in recollection.  Yuta continued.  “But if you’re just going about your business, they won’t dare take you in.  Most of them like us anyway – like that we instill a little fear and discipline into public life, that we rake in local tax revenue and do charity work, etc.  I mean they’re just as much thugs as we are, too, and I guarantee you in every ten cops you’d find at least three former wannabe gangsters.  Anyway, sometimes we get busted by national law enforcement, but you rarely need to worry about the local police; they only get involved if you kill someone, as I mentioned; if public opinion is especially bad; or if someone comes to them directly with proof of wrongdoing.”

Taeyong nodded heavily, taking in this new information with a mixture of horror and relief.

“I know.  It can be a bit odd at first,” Yuta offered.  “I imagine as a former street kid you’re not used to that kind of free reign.”

Taeyong shook his head.  “Yeah, m’not,” he confirmed.  “I used to get the cops called on me for standing wrong.”    

Yuta hummed a chuckle.  He didn’t doubt it.  His face hovered closer to Taeyong’s, drinking him in, and he paused over the scar next to Taeyong’s eye.  He still had never asked about it, so he did.

“Oh, this?” Taeyong said, pointing to the pitted skin.  He demurred a bit, embarrassed, and Yuta suddenly felt bad for asking.  “It’s not very interesting.  I used to have atopic dermatitis and I picked at my skin a bit too much when I got a flare up there.”

“I see,” Yuta said.  “Sounds irritating.”

“It was,” confirmed Taeyong.  “Did you have a theory about how I got it?”

“I didn’t but Doyoung did,” said Yuta.  “He figured you’d gotten it in a fight or something like that.  I didn’t really know.”    

Yuta thought he saw a shiver buzz up Taeyong’s body.  “Do you guys talk about me often when I’m not there?”

Yuta laughed.  “Only at the beginning,” He admitted, settling his elbows back on the countertop.  “You were kind of mysterious to us.”

Taeyong looked shocked.  “Me?  Mysterious?  Alright…”

“Well you showed up out of nowhere,” Yuta asserted.  “In fact, I got asked on separate occasions by Jungwoo and Jaehyun how I was sure you weren’t a spy.”

Taeyong spluttered.  “A spy?  That’s too wild.”

Yuta only shrugged.  If he was being honest, Taeyong was still a little mysterious to him.  He still wanted to turn Taeyong’s earlier questions about sexual awakenings and such back on him, but that could wait.  Taeyong pushed away from the counter and shifted so he was facing Yuta, his hands on Yuta’s shoulders.

“Want to dance?” he asked coyly.  “Just like after Johnny’s party?”

Yuta slipped his arms around Taeyong’s waist.  “How could I say no to that?” he teased, and they plodded like that back into the living room.  Yuta let Taeyong go momentarily to put on “Three Imaginary Boys” by The Cure, scooping him back up the second the music began.  Taeyong laid his head on Yuta’s shoulder and murmured into the base of his neck.

“I can’t wait to help you destress, sir.”

Yuta petted Taeyong’s soft hair with his bandaged hand and hummed.  “You’re too perfect,” he said, and he meant it deeply.

[mysterylover123]

BNHA Rewatch: Episode 61 “Deku vs Kacchan Part 2″

 mysterylover123

O.T.P.

This is gonna get kinda emotional.

Deku is turning Kacchan’s fight proposal down. Dammit Deku! He’s being serious!

Hoo boy that Kacchan face. No light in his eyes. That realization, just…just bleeding through…hoo boy.

“If the way you admired him was correct, does that mean my way of thinking was wrong?” OMG ITS HAPPENING. HE’S REALIZING IT YA’LL.

The flashbacks to bb Deku and Kacchan the feels.

The white void, it’s just the two of them. 

That Deku line from the first episode. I’m transported right back, ya’ll. It’s that first love again, that same feeling I had when I first discovered this series all the way back in summer of last year.

So Deku starts by thinking too hard about what’s going on and immediately gets blasted.

“You think too much” hoo boy recently Mother’s Basement posted the analysis of this fight and pointed out that this is actually a flaw of Deku’s that he can learn to remedy by adopting some of Kacchan’s impulsiveness. Never has the phrase “you complete me” been more accurate.

This freaking animation. It’s so beautiful. OMG.

“Wait for me” OH MAN BB DEKU BB KACCHAN RUNNING I’M DEAD I AM DYING

Cause he loves ya you dope.

Cute overload

WHY WHY WHY hoo boy Kacchan flashbacks.

Dat little trip oh man. He’s so bummed Deku doesn’t wanna fight and Deku’s little kick actually knocked him down.

Ooh boy. Here it comes. The music went out

Hold his freaking hand some day dammit

Oh god I can’t watch this again I can’t I can’t

“why is to you became strong…while I - “ OH GOD HERE IT COMES HERE IT COMES

OH GOD. Slow clap. Okamoto and Chapin both deserve freaking awards for that performance. I mean holy shit. That voice acting. Those cracks. That hit. It makes me cry. I’m tearing up right now. Cause you see, this whole episode, it really rests on the ability of Bakugou’s Seiyuu and VA to pour everything into the performance. It’s not going to hit without both of them giving the vocal acting performance of a lifetime, and they both knocked it out of the freaking park. I actually love them both as his voice; I don’t have a preference for dub over sub, as regards their performances (not the dialogue translations), because both are incredible. Just. Slow clap. All of the awards, please.

Look at how Deku looks at him. He’s the best. He just…he cares, so much. I mean, you’d admittedly have to be a pretty heartless bastard not to feel a little compassionate after hearing that speech but still. Kacchan’s so fucking lucky he has Deku and he doesn’t even know it. I want one too.

He’s crying. Me too.

Kacchan no Kacchan no nononononono 

Oh god Deku you beautiful darling

“may not be any meaning” I DISAGREE THIS IS THE CULMINATION OF AN ENTIRE SERIES’ WORTH OF 100+ SYMBOLIC CHAPTERS DETAILING YOUR GROWTH FROM ANGRY YELLING RIVALS TO RIVALS WHO SUPPORT EACH OTHER DAMMIT IT’S EVERYTHING

“May not be any meaning in winning or losing” lol are you just saying that in hindsight, Future Deku, cause you know you lost?

Deku didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to fight Kacchan or even let him know the truth.

And note, he didn’t accept until he realized there was someone he could save. Someone who needs saving, to be helped. And this is how to help him.

“The only one who can accept his feelings is me.” Ya’ll heard that haters? Say it a little louder for the people in the back, Deku. He’s got his heart.

And look who’s smiling again, eyes lighting up again, the minute Deku started fighting back?

“I couldn’t just completely reject him” Guess who also sad that about their fiery spiky blond spouse in BNHA? Kacchan’s dad in that omake about their marriage.

Their relationship was wrong, but now it’s right. 

They never talked about how they really felt. Communication is the cornerstone of a healthy relationship, folks. Go on. Talk about your feels. Your real feelings.

Of that was one hell of a hit.

That speedy recovery though. Deku is fast. 

Oh wow Kacchan hit it too

That smile. That smile OMG that is THE HOTTEST, by far, that Deku has ever looked in animation. And I don’t say that lightly.

The translation here is either “I’ve” or “you’ve” gotten stronger. Both fit fine, which is the crazy part. Deku could be either saying that he himself has improved, or complimenting Bakugou, which does admittedly make more sense with what he was saying before, while ‘I’ve’ fits his cocky grin here better. I want him to flash a cocky grin more. It suits him. (BTW The English Dub compromises between the two and says’ we’ve both’.

Katsuki assumes Deku has a plan. Always overestimating him.

“That’s what I hate about you” OMG HE FINALLY TELLS HIM HOW HE FEELS. “I can never tell what you’re thinking” Because ya know he’s so good at understanding how everyone else thinks and feels.

He’s always being mean to Deku. Deku has seen him at his very worst and yet still admires him. Maybe that’s scary, you know? Unconditional love is…kinda terrifying. But so, so beautiful. So he has to rationalize it that Deku is just looking down on him.

Wow Deku sure took you long enough! He’s been saying that since day 1!

“I wouldn’t want anything to do with them anymore” Deku there you go being empathetic and wonderful and perfect again. So understanding you darling, darling boy.

 “Along with the parts I hated about you, I saw all the amazing things you could do.” THAT’S ADMIRATION, FOLKS. ADMIRATION WITHOUT IDOLIZATION. Without hero-worship. Acknowledging the good and the bad. Seeing a person for who they really are and always, always seeing the best of them, even at their worst.

“MUCH CLOSER TO ME THAN ALL MIGHT” Do you hear him guys? The closest person to him, closer than All Might. Closer than his freaking #1 favorite hero. The dub version has “actually in my life”, which isn’t a bad idea either. Both are true. That is so powerful. The person who

Oh yeah and again how does Deku advance in power? How does he Go Beyond? KACCHAN. Full cowling, he found from him. OFA itself, he gained by saving him. And 8%.

THAT SMILE. “I thought you were amazing.” He loves you you idiot. 

He kept chasing after him. He’ll never stop. He won’t just give up.

He passed him. And Bakugo looks happy. Possibly because he wants Deku to do better. Possibly because it seems to be confirming his might-makes-right theory. Possibly both.

ANIMATION-GASM AGAIN. 

AHAHAHAHAHAH ITS THAT CUT ITS THAT CUT DEKU’S DANCING FEET

THE VOID AROUND THEM IT’S JUST YOU AND ME 

AND THE BLOCK OMG THIS IS BEAUTIFUL THIS IS THE MOST FREAKING BEAUTIFUL ANIMATION IVE EVER SEEN

I’m serious. They brought out all the stops for this one. Of course. they knew, they had to know, that this was it. The animation, too, had to be perfect, or else it wasn’t gonna come across. And it is. Even better, in my opinion, than the animation in the stuff that came before it. Bones you are incredible. 

Higher gear. Can anyone doubt that Katsuki is important to Deku’s journey after this?

“This is gross, so I can’t say it”.. “I love you?” A reactor I follow actually said that after that line. That’s how intense they are.

Anyway IMAGE OF VICTORY SPEECH. The Ep that keeps on giving. 

Kacchan is his image of victory. The other side of him. And he adopts some of his traits.

“The part of you I hate and yet” How much love can you have for a person when you can somehow still admire the darkest, meanest parts of them? I don’t have a very perfect definition of love but I think that’s probably a big part of it.

“my image of victory is of you” feels overload. Feels O.D. 

dat crane shot.

My one disappointment with this episode is that they used the US of Smash OST instead of the Katsuki and Izuku OST for this scene. CMON GUYS. SERIOUSLY. THE KATSUKI AND IZUKU THEME HAD TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN FOR THIS EPISODE AND THIS MOMENT ALONE. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING. 

“I have to beat you” the music the feels omg

Hahaha psych. Kacchan wins anyway. 

WOOF. Like OK this is in the manga, this positioning, but it’s only for one frame. In the anime it goes on for like, an uncomfortably long time, with the slow panting, and the close-ups on the twisting body parts, and…combined with the fact that all of Deku’s admiring girlfriends in this arc have also landed on top of him in a similar pose, and you can’t blame me for the fact that my mind went into rather…R-rated territory. 

Kacchan’s disappointed. He didn’t want Deku to lose. He wanted Deku to win.

That breaking  voice again. Don’t make me cry more dammit it’s too late.

ALL MIGHT! I need an MST3K style All Might commentary-reaction to this entire damn thing. Seriously Hori. If you ever do an extra, please make one that’s a serious of All Might panel reacting to this whole thing. I NEED THAT. 

Finishing each other’s sentences again.

“It’s too late” IT’S NEVER TOO LATE YOU CYNICAL PORCUPINE.

This is such a great moment of catharsis. Why Deku indeed? Well, you’re about to learn.

THAT LINE DELIVERY AGAIN. That Broken voice. Both voice actors are too good.

Deku’s legs though. WOWSA. A little detail I’ve noticed is that Kacchan has really buff, sexy arms and Deku has really buff, sexy legs. Because those are the body parts they use, while the reverse parts are more average.

“I’m weak too” You’re making me weak I can’t take it. His voice his voice that fucking voice

DEKU’S EYES. THEY’RE WELLING. 

HE’S GONNA CRY TOO.

I also need an All Might in my life. I kinda blame myself all the time for things outside of my control. Deku AND Kacchan both blamed themselves for what happened. For All Might’s end. And neither one was really responsible, but they’re just like that. I relate, painfully, to both of them. I have a Deku side and a Bakugo side - deep down, I think we all do. Maybe one more than the other, but that’s what you get when you create two characters who initially act as kind of…distilled embodiments of two sides of the super-hero coin. One all super with no hero, the other all hero with no super - at least, at the beginning.

THAT PIANO MUSIC IT SOUNDS FAMILIAR. IT’S ALL MIGHT’S FREAKING THEME YA’LL!

Ooh boy All Might’s BKDK Speech! Both of their teachers ship them, you guys. All Might AND Aizawa both give big, beautiful speeches about their compatibility. In case you somehow missed it. 

Being fixated on victory like you, young Bakugou…and wanting to save those in trouble, like you, young Midoriya…both of those feelings are necessary.” “You guys are perfect for each other”, says the reactor I mentioned earlier (who isn’t even a hardcore BKDK shipper, mind you, it’s just that it’s that obvious.) And it’s true. You need both. They want each other, they need each other, because they have what the other lacks. They complete each other.  

This is the shonen rival equivalent of having the couple in a rom-com confess at the end of act one instead of act three. It upsets all the cliches and is all the better for it. Though even the most hardcore, dedicated anime rivals, I don’t think have ever gone this married-couple with the ‘mutual respect’ and ‘making each other stronger’ thing.

WIN AND SAVE SAVE TO WIN. They look each other in the eyes.

Oh god not that voice again I’m dying. Don’t make me cry again Kacchan.  

“Don’t lose.” SUPPORTIVE KACCHAN I LOVE SUPPORTIVE KACCHAN.

“I’ll get stronger” CONFIDENT DEKU I LOVE CONFIDENT DEKU. 

“Of the students only you.” ONLY YOU. 

I put this moment really high on my list of Kacchan’s nicest moments, because it means a lot to me and to All Might. All Might acknowledges it. He’s a good secret keeper.

Oh and Deku thanks him too in the English Dub, BTW. Not the manga but nice dub touch. 

OMG he’s such a Tsundere.

He told him everything. HE KNOWS. The only one who knows. None of Deku’s other love interests do. And he has no interest in telling them. 

Kacchan asks why he told him. And I’ve got an answer, after obsessively rereading Chapter 11/rewatching Episode 8 a lot: BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU, YOU IDIOT. You were mad at him for lying about his quirk to you. You asked what was going on (loudly). You accused him of lying to you your whole life. So he told you the truth. Because he can lie to his mom, and he can lie to his friends and teachers and the entire freaking world. But he cannot lie to YOU. Because he loves you. Idiot baka. 

Oh and what’s that music playing there? Why does that sound familiar? YOU SAY RUN YOU SAY RUN YOU SAY RUN IT’S BACK. And you know? That’s I think because YSR symbolizes Deku’s heroic inspiration. The inspiration he both takes in and gives to others. And here, he’s both being inspired by Kacchan, and inspiring him at the same  time.

Now Kacchan is doing the same. “Chosen one” He knows. Deku is better. He’s gotta surpass him.

LOL THIS IS FUNNY. THEY SURE BICKER LIKE THEY’RE MARRIED.

This shot composition. Get it? ALL MIGHT’S THE THING BETWEEN ‘EM.

Oh and this. Yay some character development from Kacchan! Another nice moment of his in this ep. Three times! 

All Might Meta’s a bit about how Kacchan took responsibility and felt bad and does a Mom guilt trip on Dadzawa. They’re getting to be kinda married too now.  

“I went in pretty HARD”. OMG stop it you’re making me think bad things again. Just F*CK already.

Their first act as a married couple is to clean the house together. OMG domestic fluff. 

And now for the best Post-credits scene ever. 

Wow Uraraka ships it so bad. 

Oh and some Todobaku bonus! Aw I guess Bakugou just turned down his 3some offer. 

Ooh awkward silence. 

YAY! Though they did kinda wreck it by having Deku bring it up instead of Kacchan 

NOW THEY’RE HEALTHY ENOUGH TO TALK TO EACH OTHER LIKE HUMAN BEINGS.

Kacchan just praised me. Life is good.

Episode 61 is my favorite episode of my favorite show. I think it’s the best and will never be topped. Feels, left and right. It’s really just perfect. Funny, all 3 of the transcendent, best-of-the-best BNHA eps (This, 49 and 23) are basically just two characters fighting for 20 minutes. Nothing more or less. Yet they’re all so, so good. And this one is…I don’t even know how to put it into words. It’s a phenomenal tour-de-force of acting, visuals, animation, music, and of course, writing, all combining together to be just absolutely unsurpassable. Everything that makes this series good, boiled down to it’s essence. And yes, this did seal the deal for me with BKDK. I liked it before, but this made it a done deal. No going back. And I love it.

BEST GIRL OF THE EP: Uraraka for being so supportive.

RANKER: Top 5 Best Moments of This Episode: (it’s really more like a top 50)

5. Deku’s little Dance number

4. True Rivals at Last

3. True feelings at last

2. The Image of Victory Speech

1. “Why did I become...”

[basketofverbiage]

Angels Calling

Hi everyone! I just wanted to give a bit of a preface to this story. I know I was supposed to post a much happier story but I just couldn’t. A little bit about me that you may not know is that I worked for a local Hospice for 6 years. I helped people shower, maintain their homes, and just be there for them as they died and provided love and care to their loved ones as they were passing. My dad’s parents have been my next door neighbors since I was 4 years old, and I started noticing my sweet Gram declining a lot last year. When it got to the point that she needed help with showering, she wouldn’t let anyone else but me help her. So, when she was actively dying and in Hospice at the hospital, I stayed with her a lot and when she was still aware, she wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She lingered for 9 days. The night she died, I did her final post-mortum (after death) bath and got her ready for the funeral home to come myself. Because of my time with Hospice, I have a very unnatural way to deal with grief and everything is a little more complicated. When I started having nightmares about being at the hospital just waiting for her to pass, I knew I needed to do something to get it out of my system, and this story was born out of my need to deal with both my time working for hospice and the hundreds of patients I cared for and losing my Gram over the summer. So, with that, I’m sorry, but this story is really sad, but lightens up a bit at the end. But also know that I wrote this more for myself than for anything else.

Warnings: character death, grief, Hospice, terminal illness

Words: 18301

“Appa, I don’t feel so good.”

Hoseok never dreamed that those simple words spoken to him at 2:30 am would be the start of his worst nightmare come to life, but it was. Hoseok was a single dad, and as difficult as it could be, he wouldn’t trade his precocious 3-year-old daughter for anything in the world. Almost every father would say that if asked, but for Hoseok it was the truth. As far as he was concerned, the sun, moon, and all the stars rose and set in Dasom. Dasom’s mother had been young and a bit flighty, so when she found out she was pregnant she begged Hoseok to let her have an abortion, but he refused. He finally begged enough and promised that if she carried the baby to term, she’d never have to see either of them again, and she’d agreed. After 15 hours of labor, Dasom was born and her mother signed documentation resigning all parental rights to the child leaving her solely with Hoseok. As much as it broke his heart that she wanted nothing to do with this vibrant child, he was just selfish enough to be relieved that she couldn’t stroll in whenever it benefited her and shatter pieces of Dasom’s heart.

Hoseok could only think of a handful of times in her short life that Dasom had been ill, but she had recently begun attending pre-school and came into contact with more children her own age. He figured that it was only a matter of time before she would catch a cold, so when she came into his room and shook him awake and said she didn’t feel good, Hoseok figured she might have the cold that was going around.

“What doesn’t feel good, my Love?” he asked gently as he turned on the lamp on his bedside table.

“Appa, everything hurts. My skin even feels sore.”

Hoseok reached his hand out and felt her forehead and she was burning up. He picked her up and she immediately snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. He carried her into the bathroom and sat her gently on the countertop to take her temperature. She was old enough to take her temperature orally now and tolerated him holding the digital thermometer under her tongue until it beeped. When he glanced at the number on the screen, he did a double take. How was it possible that his baby had a temperature of 106 degrees? He was no doctor but he knew enough to know that her fever was dangerously high and probably the reason her little body was aching.

“Dasom, darling, we have to go to the doctor, but first I want you to take some medicine, okay?”

“Okay, Appa. As long as it helps. It hurts so much,” she whimpered as tears started streaking down her cheeks.

Hoseok hated seeing her in pain, so he gave her a dose of children’s fever reducer then got dressed to take her to the emergency room. After dressing himself quickly, he helped Dasom slip out of her pajamas to put on something that would be comfortable but warmer to go out into the chilly late-autumn night. When he took off her pajama pants, he gasped. There were big dark bruises down her legs that had not been there several hours ago when he’d helped her bathe before bed. As much as he was panicking on the inside, he was trying to stay calm for Dasom.

“Darling, did you fall out of bed or bump your legs coming to wake me up?” he asked, quietly.

“No, Appa, but it hurts.”

She was beginning to cry in earnest as he helped her into her booster seat in the back seat of his car and helped her buckle her seatbelt. The drive to the hospital went quickly, but Hoseok was so worried that it felt like it took hours to get there. Luckily, when they arrived there were no other people in the waiting room.

“Hi, Sir. How can we help you?” the receptionist asked.

“It’s my daughter. She woke me up saying she felt really bad, her fever was 106 degrees when I took it under her tongue, and she has bruises on her legs now that weren’t there when I helped her with her bath at 8:00.”

After entering the information into the computer system in front of her, the receptionist stepped from behind the desk with a clipboard.

“I’m going to go ahead and take you back to have her checked out by a doctor, but in the meantime, I do need for you to complete some additional information please.”

She led them back into a small room that was sectioned off with a curtain but had a bed in the middle. Hoseok laid Dasom gently on the bed and pulled a chair over beside her. She had brought a small yellow stuffed dog with her, and while she still cried a bit, she was toying with its ears while Hoseok completed the paperwork. He wrote down their insurance information and paused slightly when he got to the section about emergency contacts. His parents and sister lived several provinces over, and while he had some friends in the city, he and Dasom were pretty much solitary. After pondering for a moment, Hoseok wrote in the name of his best friend and business partner, Kim Namjoon. As far as Dasom was concerned, Unca Joonie and his partner, Unca Tookie, were her best friends. Namjoon and Hoseok ran a small bookstore/coffee shop combination in Seoul, while Namjoon’s partner Jungkook ran a game and comic book shop down the street. Namjoon and Jungkook had met a couple of years ago when Jungkook started coming into the café every morning for an Americano with double espresso shots every morning before opening his shop. Hoseok had just finished completing the requested documents when a doctor in a long white coat slipped into the room.

“Hi! My name is Dr. Kim Seokjin, but you can just call me Dr. Jin. What’s causing you so much trouble in the middle of the night, Princess Dasom?”

The dark-haired doctor was gentle and playful enough with her that he eased Dasom’s worries about being in the hospital, while still performing a thorough examination. After looking her over and taking her vitals, he turned to Hoseok.

“Mr. Jung, how long ago would you say Dasom had the fever reducer?” he asked.

“It was around 2:45 am,” he said, looking at his watch. “So maybe an hour and 15 minutes ago?”

“Hmm…” Dr. Kim thoughtfully jotted a few notes down. “It should definitely be taking effect by now, but her fever is now 106.3. I am going to have my lovely assistant come in and draw some of Dasom’s blood to do some tests. I’m also going to have him start an IV so we can give her a different medication to try to bring that fever down.” He turned to Dasom then and gave her a blinding smile, “I’ll be right back, Princess Dasom. I just want to step down the hall and get you some juice. Don’t give my lovely assistant too hard of a time, okay?”

Once she had giggled a bit and agreed, he exited the make-shift room. Since the room was essentially a big curtain in a circle around the bed, Hoseok could hear Dr. Kim speaking softly to someone outside the room but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He was watching Dasom snuggle under the light blanket with her puppy when someone new popped into the room.

“Oh my goodness! You must be the beautiful princess Dr. Jin was telling me about! My name is Taehyung,” the tall man said cheerfully before bowing to Dasom.

Dasom started giggling as soon as he called her a beautiful princess, and Taehyung shot her a big boxy smile before he came and sat down on the side of the bed.

“Princess, Dr. Jin said you are feeling pretty bad, and he wants us to do some tests to find out why. In order to do that, I need to take some samples of your blood which might not be fun for you, but I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?”

Hoseok was still on edge, but the kindness of the nurse to even make his baby girl smile in this scenario was so appreciated. Dasom reached over and squeezed Hoseok’s hand while Taehyung drew three different tubes of blood and inserted an IV. Once the IV was in, he hung a bag of clear liquid and connected it.

“Alright, Princess Dasom! We are all done with the worst part now. I’m going to take your blood off to my friend to run some tests. In the meantime, why don’t you try to take a nap?”

After Taehyung left, Dasom lifted her little arms up to Hoseok and asked, “Appa, can I sleep in your lap?”  

“Of course you can, my darling,” he smiled to her. He picked up her small body being careful not to tug the IV lines and climbed into her bed. She snuggled into his arms and within a few minutes she had fallen asleep.

After she had fallen asleep, Hoseok checked the time. It was nearing 5:30 am, and they still had no idea what was wrong. Hoseok was exhausted with worry, so he tilted his head back on the pillow in Dasom’s hospital bed and drifted off to the rhythm of her sleepy breaths on his neck.

 The phone at the nurse’s station rang and Taehyung picked it up, chatting with the person on the other end for a moment before covering the mouthpiece with his hand and flagging Jin down.

“Dr. Kim, this is Dr. Min in the lab about our pediatric patient in Bay 1.”

Jin looked up from his charting and walked over to take the call.

“Hi Yoongi-chi. Have some good news for me?” he said cheerfully into the receiver.

Taehyung knew that Dr. Kim and Dr. Min had gone to medical school together and were close friends. They usually bantered back and forth for a bit, but from the look on Jin’s face, something wasn’t right.

“You’re sure, Yoongi-chi? Damn. Okay, send me up the report.”

After hanging up the phone, Jin pulled up the digital report before swearing softly under his breath.

“Tae, I hate cases like this. She’s really sick,” he said. “Do me a favor and go make Mr. Jung a strong cup of coffee and get some chocolate milk for our princess.”

 “Mr. Jung?”

Hoseok startled awake at the deep voice calling his name. He still held Dasom to his chest, and he could feel where she had drooled some in her sleep onto his shoulder. Taehyung smiled softly at him then helped him sit the head of the bed up a bit. He sat a sippy cup full of chocolate milk on the over bed table, before holding out a cup of coffee.

“Here, you are going to need this. Dr. Kim is going to come in after you’ve had a few minutes to wake up to talk with you about Dasom. It’s not the best coffee you’ve ever had, but it’s not jet fuel either.”

Hoseok thanked him and sipped on the hot coffee while waiting for the doctor. Something about how Taehyung had given it to him made his stomach twist with nervousness. After a few sips, the coffee and the churning of his nerves made Hoseok a bit queasy, so he abandoned the cup onto the over bed table beside the cup with Dasom’s chocolate milk. Before he had the time to overthink, Dr. Kim came in and sat in the chair beside the bed.

“I see our princess is still sleeping. I’m a little glad that she’s going to sleep through this conversation,” Dr. Kim sighed then and ran his hands through his hair. “We got the blood tests back that I ordered on Dasom. Her white blood cell count is literally off the charts. It’s so high that our machine that reads the count gave an error. Our lab director is a friend of mine and he personally ran the test for me. I really suspect that Dasom has a form of leukemia, but I can’t treat her here in the emergency room. I’m going to have her admitted to our children’s ward upstairs and personally refer her to a colleague who specializes in things like this. Dr. Park is a couple years younger than me, but he’s brilliant and knows all the latest treatments. He should be able to pick up where I leave off. Is there anyone you can call to be with you? I didn’t see mentions of Dasom’s mother on the paperwork…”

“She signed away parental rights the same hour Dasom was born. I haven’t seen her in literal years. My best friend lives in the city, so I’ll call him,” Hoseok murmured.

He was in shock. His baby was so sick. He could feel the panic bubbling up a bit, but he swallowed it harshly down.

“Taehyung is going to come in a few minutes and take you upstairs. Dasom will have to go up a separate elevator due to hospital rules, but we will make sure you have her room number before you go. That will also give you a chance to call your friend.”

Dasom was still asleep when Taehyung came to push bed and all up to the 7th floor of the hospital. He gave Hoseok the cup of chocolate milk and a slip of paper with her room number written on it. Hoseok stepped out of the emergency room bay and walked out into the lobby inside the main portion of the hospital to make a phone call.

 It was still dark outside when Namjoon’s phone rang. He knocked a closed bottle of water off his bedside table trying to get to it and then croaked out a greeting. He was trying to stay quiet enough not to wake Jungkook sleeping with his head on Namjoon’s bare chest, but when he heard Hoseok sobbing on the other end about Dasom and the hospital and something about leukemia, he sat up fast enough to dump the younger man off his chest harshly.

“Hobi, we will be right over. We will stop by and put a note on the door of the shop that it will be closed for the day.”

Jungkook had pouted at first at his rough awakening until he heard how upset Namjoon was. Namjoon was rushing around getting dressed faster than Jungkook had ever seen, and it made Jungkook respond with his own shaken brand of frantic dressing.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?” Jungkook asked as he pulled a black shirt over his head.

“Hoseok. He’s at the hospital with Dasom. They’ve been there all night and the doctors think she has leukemia.”

 That was the beginning of the flaming hellscape that Hoseok’s life became. After four months of intermittent hospitalizations for weeks at a time, chemotherapy treatments that made Dasom vomit everything out for days afterwards and made her beautiful hair fall out, other treatments in the form of shots, IVs, and elixirs, and a bone marrow transplant, Hoseok wasn’t sure how much more either of them could take. It seemed like their options were slowly running out, and that was terrifying to him. It was still amazing to him how Dasom was still as bright and playful as she had ever been despite how sick she truly was. Namjoon and Jungkook had been by their sides the entire time, and Jungkook had spent a small fortune in cute hats and headbands for her when all of her hair had come out.

“I can’t help it, Hobi. I just want her to still feel as beautiful as she is, with or without hair,” he’d said when Hoseok had commented on it.

The three of them took turns staying with her during the day. Luckily, Jungkook’s friend Yugyeom was able to help out at the game shop on the days when Jungkook was babysitting, much like today. Hoseok and Namjoon were both in the shop that day preparing for a book signing coming later in the week, and Jungkook was sending them both photos of their adventures as the day went on. Hoseok was re-arranging the window display for the upcoming Valentine’s Day holiday when his phone rang. He hadn’t been expecting a call, so it startled him a bit when he saw the phone number for Dr. Park’s office on his caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Jung? This is Eunwoo at Dr. Park’s office. He’d like to schedule a time for you to bring in Dasom to go over her recent labs. Is there any way you can come this afternoon?”

Something in Hoseok was shattered by the urgency of the request, but he set the appointment for 3 pm. That gave him a little more than 2 hours to pick up Dasom from Jungkook and arrive at the office. He placed the red tinted fairy lights he’d been attempting to detangle back in the box and headed to the back of the shop to find Namjoon. He found him in their office on the phone confirming the time with the local author for the book signing that Friday. Hoseok sat on the edge of the chair in front of the desk and waited for the call to end.

“Alright, Hobi. That was just confirming the details for our signing Friday afternoon. He will be here at 4 and we can get him settled at his table with some tea before we let in the masses.”

“Joon, Dr. Park’s office called and scheduled an appointment for Dasom in 2 hours. I’m going to have to go pick her up and go,” Hoseok told him anxiously.

“That doesn’t sound good. Why don’t I ride with you and we have Kookie meet us at the office with Dasom? If it’s not good news, I don’t want you to be alone,” Namjoon asked. Hoseok knew that he was worried by the way his forehead was crinkled just between his eyebrows, but he was trying to hide it.

“Okay. If it’s not too much trouble for you and Kookie.”

 Hoseok was so nervous about the appointment that they ended up leaving nearly an hour before they had to be there. Hoseok felt the anxiety buzzing around his abdomen like he’d drunk live bees instead of tea with breakfast that morning. Namjoon’s presence at his side was soothing and familiar as they sat on a park bench in front of the office waiting on Jungkook to get there.

“Hey, Seok? No matter what happens when we walk out of this appointment, we will handle it together. We are brothers. Jungkook and I love Dasom just like she is our own child. We will help you with whatever comes next,” Namjoon said softly, squeezing Hoseok’s hand gently as they watched Jungkook park his car and help Dasom out of the backseat.

Hoseok felt his throat close up with nerves, so he just nodded and plastered on a bright smile for his daughter. While the smile was initially fake, it slowly became a true grin as he heard Dasom and Jungkook singing “Baby Shark” as loudly as they could while crossing the parking lot. Jungkook was holding her against his chest and she was wearing a sparkly lavender princess dress and was clipping her matching tiara into Jungkook’s curly locks as they walked.

“Wow, Kookie! Who knew you made such a beautiful princess!” Hoseok teased.

“I’d be offended, but Dasom already told me that I’m the prettiest princess, and her word is law since she’s the queen,” he sassed back, making Dasom giggle.

“Hi Appa!” she squealed when Hoseok reached out for her.

“Hi my Love! Have you had a fun day with Princess Kookie?”

“Yes! We read more of The Princess Bride after lunch, then Unca Tookie let me play dress up for a bit.”

Hoseok listened to his daughter chatter about her day with Jungkook as they checked in with the receptionist. The group had only just sat down when a familiar face popped out and called them back.

“TaeTae! I didn’t know you worked here!” Dasom squealed out while she hugged his legs.

“Hi Princess! I just couldn’t wait another day to see you! And Dr. Park’s assistant had a baby last week, so Dr. Jin let me come over to help out. Plus, you know how much trouble Dr. Park gets into. Someone had to come keep him straight,” Taehyung explained as he hugged her.

They had gotten to know Taehyung pretty well as he had transferred up to the children’s unit shortly after their night in the emergency room. He still worked in the ER when they were short staffed, but he mostly worked in the inpatient unit for sick children. Since Dr. Park Jimin was the head of the children’s ward, Taehyung also floated over to the doctor’s office when needed. Somehow, just seeing his boxy grin and easy demeanor always put Hoseok and Dasom at ease; Dasom loved Taehyung and said he was her favorite nurse because he gives the best hugs. Taehyung took them back towards a room but stopped to weigh Dasom and measure her height.

“Princess, you have grown another inch since I saw you last! I’m going to give you a rock for a hat so you don’t get any bigger!” he teased before taking the rest of her vital signs.

Hoseok was a little surprised that Taehyung picked up Dasom and carried her while leading them to Dr. Park’s actual office instead of an exam room.

“Dr. Park wanted me to bring you in here instead of an exam room. He said he’d be in to speak with you in a few minutes. Make yourselves comfy. Do any of you want coffee or tea?” Taehyung asked. When they all refused, he patted Hoseok on the back and left the room, leaving the door slightly open.

They had only been sitting for a few minutes when Dr. Park came in. Hoseok always thought that if he’d met the man in a different setting, he’d have never known he was a doctor. Park Jimin was a bit shorter than Hoseok and had this habit of pushing his blonde hair back out of his eyes. He never wore a lab coat like most doctors Hoseok had ever met unless he was at the hospital, and then he just wore the lab coat over jeans and simple shirts. He had no qualms about kneeling in the floor to speak eye-to-eye with his young patients and his entire manner was soft and friendly. Children liked him and he was great with them. Not only was he great with his patients, but the man was truly brilliant. He had presented treatment options that Hoseok had never even heard of and had been willing to try anything. When Dr. Park came into the room, Dasom climbed out of Namjoon’s lap where she’d been doodling on the notepad that he always kept in his pocket to hug her doctor.

“Hello, Princess! I see that you brought in your royal guard and a new princess I don’t think I’ve met yet with you!”

“Oh Dr. Chim, that’s not a princess! That’s Unca Tookie, and you’ve met him before,” Dasom giggled.

“Well, don’t tell him I said so,” Dr. Park whispered conspiratorially to her, “but he makes a very pretty princess.”

Hoseok glanced over at Jungkook, who was blushing a bit and sneakily trying to remove the tiara from his hair and chuckled to himself.

“Princess, why don’t I take you to play with TaeTae for a little while? I need to talk to your Appa,” Dr. Park said before taking her hand and leading her out the door.

He was only gone for a few minutes, then came back and closed his office door. He shook each of their hands in greeting before sitting down behind his desk and opening up a folder that Hoseok hadn’t noticed before.

“Thank you for coming in at such short notice, Hoseok. I just didn’t want to dally in discussing this with you. As you know, we were hoping that the bone marrow transplant would help Dasom. I got her labs back this morning, and they were discouraging. While her white blood cell count is a little bit lower that it was before the transplant, it’s higher than it was during her last bloodwork. This tells me that it isn’t working,” Dr. Park paused at this point to look Hoseok in the eye. “You know that the transplant was the last-ditch effort we had to get ahead of this. I don’t have anymore tools on my belt that I can use to magically heal Dasom, and God knows I wish I did.”

Hoseok struggled to speak for a few minutes before finally choking out, “So what does this mean?”

Dr. Park ran his fingers through his hair, then stood and walked around his desk to take Hoseok’s hand before speaking again. “Hoseok-ssi, it means that with all of the efforts we’ve made to heal Dasom, none of it has worked. She is still very, very sick and there are no more options for treatment. We’ve tried them all.”

“Is she…please…is she dying? Is my baby going to die?” Hoseok stumbled over the words in his horror.

“I’m so sorry, but yes. I think she’s dying, Hoseok. I wanted to bring you in and talk to you about requesting some help for you. What do you think of Hospice?” Dr. Park said gently.

Hoseok couldn’t speak. His mouth fell open, but Jungkook spoke for him. “Isn’t Hospice for people who are going to die right away?”

“That is a misconception that a lot of people have. Hospice is designed for patients who are terminally ill and have a prognosis of living 6 months or less. While they won’t get better or heal really, the entire goal is for the patients to have the best possible quality of life and be comfortable in the end. Not only that, but you’d be able to keep Dasom at home throughout the process. She won’t have to be hospitalized again. I would still be her doctor and manage her care, but there would be other people involved. A nurse would come at least once a week and would be on-call 24 hours a day, a social worker would be available to you, and you would have access to 13 months of completely free bereavement care after Dasom dies. And that offer is for more than just you, Hoseok. It would be available to both Namjoon and Jungkook. They can also help arrange bereavement with your parents and sister through a Hospice nearby their homes.”

Hoseok crumpled under the weight of the shock. He couldn’t help but to fold in on himself. Dr. Park was still knelt down in front of him and holding both of his hands, but Hoseok’s head was nearly resting on his knees. He started to sob unintentionally; he had wanted so much to be strong for his baby girl, but he was so scared and devastated at this news. Before he realized what had happened, Dr. Park had released his hands and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Hoseok. I wish I could do more to help her,” he whispered into Hoseok’s ear.

When he finally calmed down enough to pull back from the doctor, he could see the tears streaking down Dr. Park’s own face. He was an amazing doctor, so compassionate and brilliant, but there were still limits to what he could do. He couldn’t work a miracle. And while Hoseok understood that in his mind, his heart was shattered.

“I’m sorry for breaking down. But she’s my whole world. I literally exist to be her father, so the thought that she’s going to die before me is incomprehensible to me,” Hoseok said while trying to wipe his tears away. “Since we can’t do anything else, I guess Hospice is the next best thing. I don’t want her to be in pain, and if she can be at home to pass, I think she’d be more comfortable.”

Dr. Park sucked in a stuttered breath then said, “Okay. I will make the referral today, so please expect a call in the next couple of days. A nurse and a social worker will come out to your home for that and begin to get to know you. And I will of course make visits occasionally to check in on Dasom.”

Hoseok listened to the rest of the things that Dr. Park said about Hospice services as if he were standing in a tunnel. The sound echoed around his head, but most of the words were lost. After a few minutes, Namjoon and Jungkook helped him to stand and walk out of the room. They found Dasom sitting in Taehyung’s lap reading a storybook just down the hall. A toy stethoscope was clipped around her neck over the top of her princess dress and she had a disposable cap on her head like the ones used for surgery.  Taehyung was doing silly voices for all of the characters in the story and Dasom was laughing along with him. Hoseok just stopped to stare at her, gripping onto Namjoon’s arm while he saw how lively she seemed in this moment. It took everything within him not to hit his knees right then.

“Hey, Seok? Why don’t Jungkook and I come over and help you make dinner for Dasom? I just want to help support you both,” Namjoon asked softly. Hoseok just nodded before approaching Taehyung and Dasom. As he got closer to her, she looked up at him with a huge smile on her face.

“Appa, are you all done with Dr. Chim?” she asked.

“Yeah, Darling. Let’s go home now. Uncle Joonie and Uncle Kookie are going to come over for dinner. Should we order something?” he replied as he picked her up.

He couldn’t resist hugging her to his chest, and when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, more tears slipped out of his eyes. Would this be one of the last times he was able to hold her? To see her smile? Hear her precious giggles?

 After Dasom and her family had left, Taehyung stepped in to check on Dr. Park. They were good friends outside of work, and Taehyung had suspected that whatever news had been delivered to Mr. Jung was not good; Taehyung knew that Jimin would not be handling it well. In fact, he had rescheduled all of his appointments for the rest of the day when the reports had come in.

When Taehyung got to the office door, he could hear the sobs. Jimin was such a tender-hearted soul that his patients affected him deeply. He slipped in the door to find Jimin with his head down on the desk, crying into his folded arms. Taehyung closed the door behind him, then went to kneel beside Jimin.

“What happened, Chim?” he asked gently.

“She’s dying, Tae. The bone marrow transplant didn’t work. Her labs are still terrible and there’s nothing else I can do. I had to bring her father in and suggest Hospice to him for his 3-year-old daughter. I’m a horrible doctor. I can’t help her!”

Taehyung pulled Jimin into a hug and squeezed him tightly. “You are the best doctor at this hospital, Chim. Seriously. You have helped so many sick children recover. And I know, Dasom is a special little girl and it sucks so much that she’s so sick, but you can only do so much. You have tried every single treatment available for her, including some non-conventional methods and nothing has worked. Maybe her candle was only meant to be lit for a short while. All we can do now is make sure she’s comfortable and as happy as she can be through the end. Are you going to do home visits for her?”

Jimin nodded against Taehyung’s shoulder. “Want me to go with you those days?” Taehyung asked. Jimin nodded again. “Okay. We will go together. And we will make sure that she is the happiest that she can be.”

 Y/n hated pediatric cases. They were always the worst. She had begun working as a Hospice nurse to help dying people pass in comfort and peace and to make them smile as often as possible, but most of her patients were elderly. They had all lived long, mostly joyful, lives and were tired of being sick. As she stared at the admission information for her new patient, her heart sank.

Jung Dasom, born 26 May 2015, is a 3-year-old female patient with Juvenile Myelomoncytic Leukemia. The patient has endured a variety of treatments, including various chemotherapies and a bone marrow transplant. The transplant slowed down the growth of the leukemia for a short time. The patient’s mother has revoked claim to all parental rights and should not be given any information whatsoever regarding the patient’s condition should she reach out or inquire. The primary caregiver for the patient is her father, Jung Hoseok, who runs a bookstore/coffee shop. Additional caregivers are the father’s business partner, Kim Namjoon, and his boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook; information regarding the patient’s condition can be shared freely with both. The patient’s grandparents and aunt live out of town but do visit regularly. Mr. Jung has given permission to also speak with both regarding the patient’s condition. Mr. Jung has expressed interest that the patient remain at home for the duration of her illness and not be hospitalized again. Primary physician is Dr. Park Jimin, who will continue to manage the patient’s care and should be contacted for any and all changes in the patient’s condition. Dr. Park plans to make regular home visits to the patient to monitor the progression of the disease.

Y/n had not been the nurse to admit the patient as she had been attending a visit for another patient’s death, so her colleague, Sara had gone.

“Hey Sara, I see you did the admission yesterday for my pediatric patient. How are things there?” Y/n asked.

“She’s an absolute doll. You will fall in love with her. She is still very happy and playful and doesn’t report pain often. She lost all of her hair from the chemo, and complains of nausea when she eats, so Dr. Park has her on some meds that she takes before meals. Her dad is a total sweetheart and is super hands on with her care. He’s absolutely devastated at the news but is trying to hold it together for Dasom. The entire scenario is horrific, and I’m so glad she’s your patient and not mine.”

 The night that they’d gone home from Dr. Park’s office, Namjoon had driven Hoseok’s car back to their apartment and Jungkook had followed behind with Dasom so that Namjoon and Hoseok could talk.

“I swear I never dreamed that she would die before me, Joon. The thought rips the breath out of my lungs. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell her, but I think I have to,” Hoseok cried to his friend.

Namjoon had tears rolling down his cheeks by the time that he parked the car, but they had developed a bit of a plan. Namjoon and Jungkook would order in dinner and set the dining room table while Hoseok tried to explain things to Dasom. Before stepping out of the car, Namjoon reached over and squeezed Hoseok’s hand a couple of times to give him strength then wiped the tears from his face. They looked at each other and both took some deep breaths before stepping out of the car.

Jungkook and Dasom were singing “Baby Shark” again. Jungkook was doing a great job of keeping his energy up for Dasom for the moment, but Namjoon could see the sadness in his eyes.

“What sounds good for dinner, Somie?” Namjoon asked as they took the elevator up to their floor. “Jungkookie and I are going to order something yummy for us.”

She tapped her little index finger against her chin for a moment while she thought about it. “Can we have noodles?”

“Of course! We will order loads of noodles,” Jungkook replied with a soft smile.

“Can we have chicken too?” she asked.

“Yeah, we can order chicken too,” Namjoon said, also with a smile.

“When we get home, can you meet me in my bedroom with your puppy, Love? I want to talk to you for a few minutes before we have fun with Joonie and Kookie,” Hoseok asked her as he knelt before her as the elevator was nearing the 8th floor where their apartment was.

Dasom nodded then put her little hands on each of Hoseok’s cheeks and blew a raspberry on the tip of his nose. “Yes, Appa. We can talk,” she said as she giggled at the silly look on Hoseok’s face.

Hoseok stood then and held her hand as they exited the elevator. When they got to their apartment, Dasom kicked her shoes off beside the door and put them in their designated spot on the shoe rack before running down the hall to her room. Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok all stepped into the kitchen after removing their own shoes. Namjoon and Jungkook stepped forward to hug Hoseok, but he held his hands up to stop them.

“If you hug me right now, I’ll lose it. And I have to keep it together to talk to her,” he explained before grabbing Dasom a juice box out of the refrigerator then heading towards his room.

When Hoseok opened his bedroom door, Dasom was already there. She was sitting in the middle of his bed with her puppy plushie in her lap, fidgeting about with his ears. When he heard the door open, she smiled at him. He put the straw in the juice box and handed it to her before sitting down in front of her.

“Dasom, I wanted to talk to you a little bit about our visit with Dr. Chim today. You know that you’ve been sick for a while and had surgery, right?” Hoseok paused for her to respond, and she simply nodded as she took a sip of juice. “Well, Dr. Chim talked to me today because the surgery didn’t do what it was supposed to, and you are still sick. Dr. Chim told me today that there is nothing else he can do to help you get better.”

“Appa, am I going to go to heaven?” Dasom asked softly.

“Yes, Baby. At some point soon, you will go to heaven. Dr. Chim is going to help us make sure that even though you are still sick, it won’t hurt, and it won’t be scary. I’ll be with you the whole time. So will Uncle Joonie and Uncle Kookie. Dr. Chim is also going to send us some new friends that will help us take care of you at home, so you won’t have to go to the hospital anymore.”

“Okay, Appa. Will I get to see TaeTae again?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll call Dr. Chim’s office tomorrow and see if TaeTae can come visit you sometimes.”

Hoseok had to stop talking because his voice got caught in his throat. He reached out and picked Dasom up and pulled her into his lap. She instantly snuggled into him and wrapped her little arms around him to hug him.

After a minute, she looked up at him and said, “Appa, I’m not scared to go to heaven. I just will miss you so much when I’m there. You are the best Appa in the world. I love you so, so much.”

Her words broke him more than he already was. Hoseok cried as he whispered back that he loved her several times.

“Appa, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay,” she said as she kissed his cheek. “Unca Joonie and Unca Tookie will take care of you when I get to heaven.”

 The minute Hoseok had walked out of the kitchen to speak with Dasom, Jungkook had lost it. He had been strong the whole time he drove so that Dasom wouldn’t realize how upset he was, but when Hoseok left the kitchen, Jungkook wrapped himself up in Namjoon’s arms and let his own tears fall. Namjoon held him as he shook in his arms until they heard the click of Hoseok’s bedroom door open. Jungkook pulled back from the hug and walked to the kitchen sink to splash some water on his face to clear out all of the tears from his cheeks.

Jungkook had just dried his face on Hoseok’s hand towel when Hoseok himself came around the corner. He took a deep breath before turning around and seeing Hoseok taking slow deep breaths.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asked gently.

“Better than I thought. She said that she loved me and that she’s not scared to go to heaven and that you and Joonie would take care of me when she’s gone.” Hoseok whimpered, fighting hard against the pain in his chest. “I don’t want my baby to die.”

Jungkook started crying again with him as he pulled him into a hug. Namjoon draped his arms around both men, and they all stood there and cried together for a few minutes, before a small voice spoke up.

“Don’t be sad please. I don’t want you to be sad,” Dasom cried as she wiggled into the middle of the three men. “I don’t want you to cry because I’m sick.”

Their tears had made their favorite princess cry because she didn’t want them to be sad because of her. Jungkook picked her up and snuggled her into all three of them.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’m just sad that I won’t get to see you anymore when you leave us. But I promise I won’t cry anymore.”

 Y/n called and scheduled an appointment to meet her new patient 2 days after she had been admitted to Hospice. She was a little nervous about meeting Dasom and her father, but her nerves were immediately put at ease by the man with the 1000-watt smile who greeted her at the door.

“Hi, my name is Y/n. Mr. Jung, I presume?”

“Oh please. Mr. Jung is my dad. Please call me Hoseok,” he said warmly as he shook her hand. “Dasom is playing in her room. Should I go get her?”

“There’s no need. We can chat with her in her room if that’s better,” Y/n said. She couldn’t help but smile back at Hoseok as he led her into the apartment and down the hallway on the right side of the living room.

“Can I carry something for you? You look like you have your hands full,” he asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you though. I lug my bag and computer around from place to place all day long, so I barely even notice it these days.”

Hoseok nodded, then led her into the little girl’s room at the end of the hall. Dasom was sitting in the floor in front of a dollhouse at the end of her bed playing with some tiny dolls, one of which she was currently putting into the tiny bathtub in the upstairs of the dollhouse. She was wearing a light blue cotton dress with a picture of a unicorn on the front and some pink house slippers. She had very little hair, just a bit of peach fuzz that had begun to grow in after her chemotherapy treatments had ended, but she had on a blue headband with a bright yellow flower attached to it. She looked up at them when they entered the room and her dark brown eyes twinkled brightly when she saw her father.

“Somie, this is Y/n. She is one of the new friends Dr. Chim sent to help us out here at home. She needs to check you over so she can report back to Dr. Chim,” he explained as he introduced Y/n to the little girl.

“Hi Y/n! I’m Dasom. Are you friends with TaeTae?” she asked.

“TaeTae is Dr. Park’s assistant. His name is actually Taehyung, but Dasom gave him his own nickname because she loves him so much. He’s her favorite nurse,” Hoseok explained with a smile at the confused expression on Y/n’s face.

“Oh okay. No, I don’t know TaeTae yet, but I’m sure I will meet him soon since I’ll be calling Dr. Chim on a regular basis. Can you sit on your bed for me? I just need to take your temperature and your blood pressure.”

Dasom was completely unbothered by the discomfort of the blood pressure cuff as Y/n took her blood pressure. She was quiet until Y/n finished taking her blood pressure then she chattered about random things as Y/n continued her assessment.

“Dasom, do you hurt anywhere? Do you feel okay today?”

“No, nothing hurts today. I had a headache yesterday, but Appa gave me medicine and it helped. I haven’t thrown up in 3 whole days!” she replied excitedly.

After doing a physical examination, Y/n and Hoseok left Dasom to play with her dollhouse as they chatted a bit more in the living room. Y/n sat down on the sofa in front of a coffee table to chart on the visit on her computer and speak a bit more with Hoseok. Hoseok brought her over a cup of hot tea to sip as they talked more.

“Thank you so much for this,” Y/n said as she took a sip. “I just wanted to sit down with you and answer any questions you might have about Hospice, Dasom’s illness, or any concerns you have. I’m planning on visiting twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. Since Dasom is so young, I just want to be present a bit more to get ahead of any symptoms that come up. I also want to be here to support you as much as I can.”

“I appreciate that very much. My best friends, Namjoon and Jungkook, will probably be here at times when you come so that I can work. My priority is Dasom, but on the days that she feels okay, I try to go to the bookshop to help Namjoon. I can do quite a bit of work from home since I do most of the bookkeeping and ordering of supplies, but it helps to get out some.”

“That’s understandable. I can call you and give you an update or leave you a note if you prefer on days you can’t be here. I have some families that keep a journal of sorts to write down their questions for me and for me to leave notes for them. We also have a nurse on call every night. If you have any issues, please call and someone can either give you instructions by phone or will come out as needed. I’m regularly on call as well, so sometimes if you call, you might speak with me.”

They chatted a bit more and Y/n could tell that Hoseok was a bit nervous, but she tried her best to assuage his fears. “I know this seems super overwhelming at the moment, but I will be by your side throughout this process. Death and dying seems like such a foreign process to most people, but I will be here every step of the way to help manage her symptoms and help you know what to expect as we go along. Don’t worry about that part though. For now, I just want you to take things day by day and enjoy spending time with your daughter.”

 Months passed before anything really changed. Dasom had good days when Hoseok could barely tell she was sick, and she played and laughed and grew. Other days were worse. She complained of headaches more often, and her nausea was harder to control. There were days she couldn’t even keep water down she was so nauseated, and she would cry and beg him to make it better. Those days were hell for Hoseok because he couldn’t make it better for his baby as much as he wished he could. Y/n was an angel throughout everything, and Dasom had taken to her as quickly as she had taken to Taehyung. It was so reassuring to Hoseok that she came on a regular schedule, every Tuesday and Friday. It was also so good to know that if something went badly during the middle of the night, he had someone he could call right away for help.

When they had first been admitted to Hospice, they had been given a special packet of medications that were tailored to Dasom that Y/n called an emergency kit. It was a set of medications that were often needed during end of life care for patients and kept in the home so that they were on hand if needed. The dosages and medications had been modified from what was typically given in a standard emergency kit because Dasom was too young to be given doses of that size of some medications or needed alternate medications altogether. This kit was kept in a high cabinet in the kitchen where Dasom couldn’t access it but was handy if something was needed. While Hoseok hoped they’d never have to use it, there was something so comforting about knowing it was there.

Hoseok never anticipated that things were going downhill until the floor collapsed from beneath him. He was out at the shop doing some work there since Dasom had been doing wonderfully for 2 weeks. She’d felt good and had been able to eat normally and play. Her hair had finally begun to grow back in earnest and she currently had the equivalent of a cute pixie cut. She still wore her hats and headbands that Jungkook had gotten her, and he’d bought several more since then. Since she had been so well, Hoseok felt safe with leaving her with Jungkook for a few hours while he worked in the shop knowing that Jungkook would call the second anything happened. It was nearly 4 in the afternoon on a Thursday, and Hoseok was shelving the newest batch of best-sellers he had ordered when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Seok, its Jungkook. I think you need to come home and have Namjoon follow you. Dasom was fine up until after lunch. She said she was tired and fell asleep on my chest watching Frozen. That was at 12, and I’m having trouble waking her up. When I try, she opens her eyes a little, says, ‘So tired, Unca Took,’ then conks back out. I’m worried.”

That was all it took to bring the walls of a normal day shattering around Hoseok. Namjoon immediately closed the shop and they left to head home. While he was driving, Hoseok called Y/n to update her on Dasom.

 Y/n was leaving another patient’s home when she got the call from Hoseok, and she could tell he was panicking. She promised him that she’d meet him at their apartment. She got there just before he did since she had only been a few blocks away. Jungkook answered the door holding Dasom to his chest, and Y/n could see the fear in his large, bright eyes.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you’re here. Dasom isn’t really waking up and she’s breathing kind of funny,” he said. “She fell asleep on my chest and I’ve just been holding her so she wouldn’t be scared.”

Y/n instantly noticed that Dasom was a bit paler than usual. She naturally had her father’s golden skin, and it was a bit disquieting to see her so pale. Y/n convinced Jungkook to carry her down the hall to her bedroom and lay her on her bed. Several weeks ago, they had switched Dasom’s toddler bed out for a hospital bed so that they would be able to elevate the head of the bed as needed. Jungkook and Y/n got her settled in the bed and laid her favorite blanket over her lap. The whole time, Y/n noticed that her breathing was starting to be a bit more rapid than was normal but had begun to have periods where she stopped breathing altogether for a few seconds. Y/n was able to rouse her a tiny bit, but she instantly went back to sleep after finishing her sentence. Y/n was taking her temperature when Hoseok ran down the hall with Namjoon hot on his heels.

“What’s happening?” Hoseok asked, panicking a bit at the way his daughter looked. In his eyes, she already looked dead because of the pallor of her skin, but he could see her staggered breathing.

“Please, sit down, all of you. This might be a lengthy conversation,” Y/n said as soothingly as she could. Jungkook stepped and grabbed two chairs from the dining room table for himself and for Namjoon to sit in, while Hoseok opted to sit on the edge of Dasom’s bed.

“Thank you. I don’t want you to think I’m being unsympathetic of the situation or being harsh. I just need to speak honestly with you, so you all understand what’s happening. Dasom has been such a strong girl, but her body may be starting to give out. She may start to sleep a lot more than is usual for her and she may not breathe normally. Her heart rate might speed up and she could have periods where she doesn’t breathe at all; you may hear me call that periods of apnea. She may also start to have constant fevers. This will just get worse and worse until eventually she stops breathing altogether. Now, I would love to be able to tell you how long something like this will take, but I simply don’t know. She could also have several days in between where she will have more energy and be more awake; these periods are called rallies. She is rallying her energy up to take care of any business she may have and to say anything she needs to say to you. I will start to come more often for a while because I want to be here for you. I’ll also call Dr. Park to update him. He will probably call you to make a visit.”

Y/n’s heart was breaking with these three men. While Namjoon and Jungkook were not related to Dasom at all, this child might as well have had 3 fathers with as much time as they spent with her. Over the nearly 5 months she had been taking care of Dasom, she had rarely had a visit where only Hoseok was present. She had even come when Taehyung and Dr. Park had been there a few times. Everyone that she came into contact fell in love with this little girl, Y/n included. If her father’s smile was bright as the sun and his heart just as warm, his daughter’s smile was brighter and her heart warmer. As sick as she was, she always wanted to know that the people around her were happy, and she spoke wise words for such a small child.

While Y/n would never breathe a word of this to anyone, she had suspected that this was coming soon. Dasom’s birthday had been a week ago, and Y/n had visited the day before her birthday party. Her birthday had fallen on a Thursday, but she had wanted everyone she loved to visit for her birthday on Saturday, Y/n included. Hoseok stepped away to take a call as Y/n was finishing up listening to Dasom’s lungs.

“Y/n-ie, will you promise me something?” Dasom asked solemnly while her father was distracted.

“Of course, Love. What can I promise you?”

“Promise me to take care of my Appa. I love him very much, but I’m scared for him when I go to heaven. I’ve been hearing angels say my name when I’m sleeping, and I know I’m going to heaven soon. You’ve taken such good care of me. Will you take care of him too?” she asked.

Y/n blinked away tears before speaking again. “Yes, Somie, I promise. I will help take care of your Appa. I will help Namjoonie and Jungkookie. We will make sure he is okay when it’s time for you to go.” After securing that promise, she returned to her usual happy, giggling self as Hoseok came back into the room apologizing for his rudeness at having to take the call.

All 3 men in her presence were crying after Y/n explained what was happening in Dasom’s body. Namjoon was crying hard into Jungkook’s shoulder. Hoseok had climbed into the bed with his baby and wrapped his body around hers protectively. He had pulled her into his arms and was crying into the top of her head as quietly as he could. Y/n herself was struggling not to sob with these men who were watching this whole thing.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to step into the living room and call Dr. Park,” Y/n said before walking quickly from the room.

Y/n took her phone into the kitchen and dialed the number to the doctor’s office.

“Thank you so much for calling Seoul Pediatrics and Youth Care. My name is Taehyung. How can I help?”

“Hey Tae. It’s Y/n. I’m here with Dasom. Is Dr. Park around?”

“Hey Y/n! He just stepped out of an exam room. I’ll call him over,” Taehyung said happily.

“You might want to send him to his office, Tae. I don’t have good news.” Y/n’s voice broke at the end of the sentence and tears started flowing in earnest.

“Oh no! Let me put you on hold a minute, and we’ll both pick up in there,” Taehyung said before the overly cheery hold music started.

 Taehyung and Jimin had closed the door to Jimin’s office and picked up the call on speakerphone. Taehyung had warned him as well as he could that the news was grim, so Jimin had tried to steel himself for the call.

“Y/n, this is Dr. Park. What’s happening with Dasom?”

Jimin’s hands were shaking as Y/n relayed that Dasom was experiencing states of heavy sleep and semi-consciousness, periods of apnea, and she already had a fever.

“I think you’re right, Y/n. It does sound like she’s approaching end of life. I have 2 more appointments, but could you please let Hoseok know that Tae and I would like to stop by?”

At the end of the call, Jimin looked up at Taehyung’s glassy eyes and swallowed hard. He couldn’t even speak for a few minutes, so he squeezed Taehyung’s hand and they just sat there in silence composing themselves to endure the rest of the afternoon.

 Before she left that afternoon, Y/n kissed Dasom on the forehead softly and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet Girl.”

Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon all walked with her to the door. They were all still crying a little bit, but she hugged them all tightly before picking up her laptop case and bag.

“Dr. Park and Taehyung will be here in a bit, and I’m on call tonight. If anything happens, please call me, okay? I don’t care if it’s 3 am.”

 As much as he wanted to hurry to see Dasom, Jimin knew that he had to keep his head in the right place. Lucky for him, his final patients of the day were just general check-ups on a pair of siblings who were getting over the flu. He put on a smile and made sure that the pair were recovering appropriately. Their lungs were clear, so it had not turned into pneumonia. He sent them on their way with instructions to rest and keep up the increased liquids for a few days before going back to school.

Once his final patients left, Jimin charted the visits using his laptop then nearly bowled his receptionist over as she came around the corner. “Eunwoo, Taehyung and I are going to see Dasom. Her Hospice nurse called earlier, and it sounds like she’s dying. I may need you to reschedule some appointments for the day of the funeral.”

 Taehyung insisted on driving to the Jungs’ apartment. He and Jimin had been taking turns, but he knew that Jimin would be upset when they left this visit, and he didn’t want him taking a chance. They put on some soft classical music for the drive just for background noise.

“You ready for this, Chim?” Taehyung asked gently as he backed his car into a parking place at Hoseok’s apartment building.

“No. Not at all, but it’s part of my job, Tae.”

Neither of them spoke again until they were standing outside the door of the apartment. Taehyung squeezed Jimin’s hand and whispered, “Let’s go say goodbye to the Princess.”

 After Y/n had left, they all just stared at each other for a second. Hoseok was completely in shock. His baby had been fine yesterday, and today she was dying. He lifted his left hand and pinched himself hard to see if he was dreaming, but he didn’t wake up; this nightmare was very real.

“Can I have just a few minutes alone with her?” Jungkook asked softly through his tears.

“Of course, Kook,” Hoseok replied, waving him towards her room.

 Jungkook sat down on the side of the bed as close as he could get to her, and just looked at her. The first time he had met this beautiful girl, she’d been barely 10 months old toddling about the café at the bookshop on wobbly legs while holding onto Namjoon’s fingers. It was the first time he’d been in the shop, and she had taken one look at him and abandoned Namjoon. She’d reached up to him with a sweet smile and upheld hands, saying, “Up peez.” He hadn’t been able to resist her then and he couldn’t now. He loved her so much and she lit his life up so much. Dasom had lived the meaning of her name in every sense of the word. Hoseok had named her well: Love is what she truly was.

“Somie, its Uncle Kookie. I just want you to know how much I love you. I know you don’t remember the first time I saw you, and how you wanted me to pick you up even then, but you won me over that day,” Jungkook spoke softly to her through his sobs. “I love you very, very much, Princess. I want you to know that I will watch out for Joonie and your Appa, so please don’t worry about leaving him behind. We will make sure he will be okay. When it’s time for you to be our guardian angel, let go and fly.”

Jungkook kissed her gently on the cheek and stumbled out of the room. He couldn’t see through his tears, but he didn’t have far to go before Hoseok was hugging him tight. They were still standing at the head of the hallway sobbing into each other’s arms when Namjoon answered the door to let Dr. Park and Taehyung in.

 Jimin and Taehyung went together back to Dasom’s room. She was peacefully lying in the bed, but her breathing was very shallow when they entered the room. Jimin could feel his heart break and the pieces leapt up into his throat as he sat down on her bed beside her. He took his stethoscope from around his neck and listened to her heartbeat. It was definitely beating at a higher rate than normal as her little body desperately struggled to ward off the leukemia in her veins.

Hoseok had excused himself to the bathroom for a few minutes to try to calm down before coming into the room, so they were alone with her.

“Hi Princess! It’s TaeTae. I needed to come see your beautiful face one more time. I know that you are about to become a star in the sky, so I wanted to ask you a favor. When you get there, please go find my grandma and give her a hug for me. Then, both of my favorite ladies will be together. I know you’ll be looking down on us. Your family is going to be fine; I promise. Your Appa is a good, strong man, and he will be okay. I’ll miss seeing your smiling face,” Taehyung murmured to her softly before kissing her forehead gently. After speaking his gentle goodbye to her, he squeezed Jimin’s shoulder as he left the room to check on Hoseok.

Jimin had a much more difficult time finding words to say, so for a moment he just sat quietly and held her small hand in his own and thought back over the time since Jin had referred her to him as a patient.

“Dasom, it’s Dr. Chim. I just came by to check on you. Y/n called me and told me that you weren’t doing so well. You don’t seem to be in any pain, which is good,” he paused a moment when the tears started streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, Dasom. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to help you get better,” he whispered to her before rushing out of the room.

 Hoseok felt like he had no more tears left to cry. He had wept out every molecule of fluid in his body in the hours since Jungkook had called him. Namjoon and Jungkook had opted to spend the night, and Hoseok had told them to sleep in his room and he’d wake them if anything happened. He had planned to curl up in bed around Dasom so if she needed him, he’d be right there. He laid down beside her in her hospital bed and brushed his fingertips gently over her forehead. It was almost as if she sensed him since she curled up to him at that gentle touch and snuggled closer to his chest. He drifted off to a fitful sleep as soon as she settled down into his arms.

Sometime later, he woke up to her tiny hands touching his face. He opened his eyes to see her looking up at him and stroking his cheeks and the shape of his nose.

“Hi Appa,” she said softly.

“Hi, Baby.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up but I needed to see you one more time. I love you, Appa. Please don’t be sad, but it’s almost time for me to go,” she said with a soft smile.

“I’m so glad you woke me up, Somie,” he cried, trying to smile at her through the tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Can you see them, Appa? Can you see the angels? They’re so pretty.”

“I can’t see them, Darling. But they aren’t here for me,” he whispered to her. “You can go with them if they ask you to, okay? Please don’t stay for me. I’ll be alright.”

She just nodded and wiped his tears away with her little hands. After a few more minutes, she laid her head on his chest and put her arm around his waist. She drifted off to a deep sleep soon after, but Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to sleep anymore. He watched and counted every breath she took that night, and just held her small body to his chest for the last time. Just as the dawn was breaking and light was peeking through her window across their faces, Dasom took her last breath.

 Namjoon woke up to Hoseok’s nearly screaming sobs confused as to where he was, but when he opened his eyes, everything came smashing back in on him.

“Jungkook, get up! Something’s wrong,” he said as he flung the blankets back and grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table.

Namjoon practically ran down the hall to find Hoseok holding Dasom to his chest, sobbing and begging her to wake up. She looked like the fairest china doll he’d ever seen and she wasn’t moving, even with her father being as loud as he was.

“Oh my god. Seok, please, you have to calm down. We have to call Y/n,” Namjoon said soothingly as he reached out for his friend.

At that moment, Jungkook slipped past him into the room and wrapped his arms around Hoseok. “I got this, Joon. Go call her.”

Namjoon stepped into the living room and dialed Y/n’s familiar number. She answered on the second ring even though it was still super early.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s Namjoon. We need you to come. Please…I think…” he stopped to breathe in for a moment before he could continue. “I think Dasom is gone. Hobi is holding her and is nearly hysterical begging her to wake up.”

“Oh no. I’ll be right over, Namjoon. Just give me 20 minutes to drive there.”

After disconnecting the call, Namjoon stood in the living room trying to steel himself a bit. Hoseok wasn’t screaming anymore, but Namjoon could still hear his sobs echoing down the hallway. He was afraid they were going to have to sedate Hoseok to get him to let go of Dasom’s body at this point. Luckily, they’d already planned a basic service back when Hospice was called so that Hoseok could just mourn when Dasom passed instead of having to make major decisions. Namjoon took a few more deep breaths then walked back down the hall.

Jungkook had managed to get Hoseok to lay Dasom back down on her bed. After he put her down, it was almost as if all the bones in his body disintegrated and left the man in a crumple on the floor. Jungkook was wrapped around him trying to offer some measure of comfort while he was crying himself. Namjoon knelt down beside both of them and whispered that Y/n was on her way and she’d be here soon. When he heard Namjoon’s voice, Hoseok unfurled from Jungkook’s embrace and moved to Namjoon’s instead.

“Joonie, I thought we had more time. Can I go with her? Please? Please let me be with my baby,” Hoseok begged as he buried his face in Namjoon’s chest and fisted the sides of his shirt.

“Seok, I’m so sorry. It’s not the same, but we loved her too, and we will be with you every step of the way. I promise you that Kook and I will take care of you until you can stand again, okay?”

Before they could talk anymore, the doorbell rang. Jungkook got up and went to let Y/n in. Hoseok took a few deep breaths as he listed to Namjoon’s deep voice assuring that he wasn’t alone in the hellscape that his life had become and was no longer sobbing. Tears were still raining out of his eyes, but his chest had apparently finished caving in because there were no wracking screams or sobs leaving his mouth.

 Y/n had expected this to be a horrible death visit. She had known that when she had to officially pronounce Dasom, Hoseok was not going to do well. And what father out there would do well with having to bury their 4-year-old?

The scene she walked into was worse than she’d dreamed. Hoseok was curled in a ball on the floor, shirtless and bare feet, but flannel clad knees pulled to his chest and his bare back pressed against the rails of Dasom’s hospital bed. He was crying into his best friend’s chest and Namjoon was crying too. Jungkook’s face had been red from crying too when he answered the door for her, and she had been able to hear Hoseok’s screams during Namjoon’s phone call. She dropped her bag inside the door and knelt in front of the two men in her black scrubs, gently rubbing Namjoon’s back.

“Hoseok? Can you look at me?” she asked softly.

He leaned back from Namjoon and launched himself into her arms when she offered a hug. “I’m so sorry, Hoseok. Was she comfortable?”

He nodded for a second before speaking. “She woke me up a few hours ago rubbing my face. She told me she loved me then asked if I could see the angels. After we talked, she fell back asleep and I just held her over my heart and watched her leave me. Oh my god, Y/n, bring my baby back. Please! I need you to bring her back!”

Y/n just sat down in the floor then, scooting the fully broken father in between her legs and brought his head to her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and held him and let him cry for a bit, knowing that he just needed to get a bit of the grief out of his system. After a bit, she could feel his hysteria starting to slow down a bit, and she moved her hands to his shoulders to pull him back to look at him. He had stopped crying, but big tears where still standing on the apples of his cheeks and his eyes looked so incredibly lost.

“Hoseok, I’m going to stand up now and do the part I have to do for Hospice, okay? I have to officially pronounce that she’s gone. Do you want to stay while I do?” she murmured to him.

When he shook his head slightly, Y/n stood then let Namjoon lead Hoseok into the living room to sit him down. Jungkook remained behind, still crying, but softly mentioning that he knew which outfit that she should be buried in. He had gone to the closet and chosen Dasom’s favorite glittery purple princess dress and matching tiara. He laid it beside her on the bed and held her tiny, now cold hand as Y/n listened with her stethoscope for just a few minutes. Dasom was definitely gone, and Y/n officially pronounced her at 6:47 am. Y/n hugged Jungkook and left the room to give him a moment alone with Dasom before going into the living room and checking on the others.

Hoseok was beginning to succumb to the emotional exhaustion already, but his breathing had begun to return to a stuttered normal where he had wept so hard. Y/n hugged Namjoon and whispered that Jungkook wanted a moment to say goodbye alone, before turning to Hoseok. She crouched down before him where he was crumpled onto the sofa and took his hands before speaking.

“I’m all finished with her. Jungkook picked out her final outfit. I just wanted to see if you are ready for me to call the funeral director. It’s okay if you aren’t,” she said in a soothingly gentle voice.

Hoseok took a deep breath and nodded. “I think so. I can’t bear the thought of her getting cold though. Can we wrap her in a blanket?”

“Is there a certain one you want to wrap her in?”

“There is a purple one at the end of her bed. Its super soft. That’s the one she always wanted when she felt bad,” he whispered.

“Do you want me to do it? Or do you want to help?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to remember the way she looks cold and lifeless. I want to remember my happy, giggly baby.” Hoseok whimpered.

Jungkook had come back into the room when Y/n stood to go back and wrap a blanket around Dasom. Namjoon’s face was pressed into his chest and they were softly crying together. Y/n smiled sadly at them before heading down the hallway. She found the blanket easily enough that Hoseok had wanted her wrapped in. Y/n gently picked the tiny body up and held her to her chest as she spread the blanket out with one hand. She swaddled Dasom’s lifeless body in the blanket as if she were a large infant, then kissed her on the forehead.

“Bye, Baby Girl. I’ll keep my promise to you. I’ll take good care of your Appa,” she whispered before calling the funeral director.

 For Hoseok, time seemed to stop. He had no idea what day it was or how long it had been since Dasom had died. He knew that it couldn’t have been any more than a week, but he felt like his life had stopped the same moment hers had. Namjoon and Jungkook refused to leave him alone for any length of time and they’d practically moved in at this point. Hoseok only slept when the crippling sadness and exhaustion made him stagger down the hallway to Dasom’s room where he’d collapse into the “big girl bed” that she’d used for maybe two weeks before it had been replaced by a hospital bed. The only time he could sleep was when he was wrapped up in the sheets that still vaguely smelled of her baby powder scent with her stuffed puppy squeezed to his chest. In those moments, he could pretend that she was just across town with her Unca Joon and Unca Tookie and he could pick her up.

Hoseok is unsure how he survived the funeral. He remembers standing by the too small casket in a borrowed suit, locking his knees to remain on his feet, and shaking the hands of everyone he knew. He remembers his mother and sister crying softly beside him in the visitation line, and his father struggling to not let the tears fall. He remembers the pastor saying a few words and the prayers before they closed the casket. He remembers Namjoon holding him back from tackling the funeral director who closed the lid and to keep him from collapsing as he begged them not close his baby in a box. He remembers Y/n being there too and standing beside him at his insistence at the graveside service, the death grip he had on her hand, and he remembers the sweet amber scent of her perfume keeping him from going insane when they lowered the tiny casket into the hole in the ground. And he remembers Jungkook wrapping his arms around him and hiding his face in Jungkook’s chest when they started shoveling the dirt back over his daughter’s grave.

After the funeral, Namjoon and Jungkook drove him back home while his parents followed behind. His mother and sister came in and began trying to cook away the pain in their chests. They cooked enough food to feed nearly the entire Korean army it seemed. They made Hoseok sit down at the table in front of all the food, but he just stared at the chopsticks and the dishes like he’d never seen them before. After a few minutes, Namjoon helped him walk into his bedroom, and for the first time since they’d graduated college, Namjoon helped Hoseok change clothes and helped him into his bed. Hoseok just stared at him with empty eyes for a few minutes.

“Hey, Seok, I’m going to step into the kitchen and grab you a bottle of water. Then I’ll come lay down with you for a while, okay?” Namjoon told him.

When Namjoon came back, Jungkook came with him and they each curled their bodies around Hoseok’s and wrapped their arms around him. They both knew that he wasn’t doing well and wanted to provide as much support as possible. When they enveloped him in their arms, Hoseok shattered again. He cried these terrible sobs that sounded like they were scraping the inside of his chest out and left his voice raspy and broken. Namjoon and Jungkook looked into each other’s tear-filled eyes and knew that they were in for a long road.

 Over the next several weeks, Hoseok walked around an empty shell of the father he had been. He found himself searching the apartment for Dasom sometimes, then breaking down when he remembered he’d never find her again. After a while, he threw himself into work so that he wouldn’t have to come home until late. Namjoon and Jungkook practically moved in with him for the first 3 weeks after the funeral until Hoseok had insisted that he was okay and that he needed to bite the bullet and get used to his childless house alone. The first night they had relented and gone home, Namjoon called him every hour to make sure he was still okay. At midnight, Jungkook had turned Namjoon’s ph0ne completely off so he’d give Hoseok some space.

Hoseok needed time alone to remember his daughter and try to come to terms with her death. While he did take advantage of some of the bereavement services that were offered, he never felt totally comfortable speaking with a gentleman who had never even met Dasom about her life and the giant black hole her death had created in his chest. So, he worked. He worked nearly 90 hours a week for practically a month after Namjoon and Jungkook had returned home. He needed something to fill all the time he had designated for caring for Dasom. It helped him to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he could fall into bed and sleep immediately without feeling any of the sorrow that had consumed him.

Just 2 short months after Dasom’s funeral, Jungkook had needed to attend an out of town conference primarily for gamers. He had reserved a booth there nearly a year in advance, before Dasom had ever gotten sick. Hoseok insisted that he’d be fine and that Namjoon should go with Jungkook, so they’d reluctantly agreed. They left on a Friday morning and were slated to return on the following Tuesday. Hoseok worked in the shop diligently, but the problem came on Sunday. The shop was always closed on Sundays, and he was so far ahead on work that he had nothing he could do on that day, so he was stuck at home. He did well until dinnertime that night. He had thrown himself into doing some research into some less well-known authors in the area that he wanted to feature in the shop and planning a display.

When he realized that he should eat dinner, he warmed up leftovers from the night before and decided to have a glass of wine. A single glass of wine with dinner became a bottle and a half as he tried to drown the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, he was completely inebriated after having finished the second bottle. In his drunken grief-stricken hysteria, Hoseok lost it completely.

 It was 2 am on Monday morning when Y/n’s phone rang. She had kept her promise to Dasom and kept in regular contact with Hoseok. He had been doing okay, or so he portrayed to everyone else, but Y/n had a little more experience with the cycles of grief. She knew that he was putting on a good mask, but it would crumble sooner or later.

“Hello?”

“Hi Y/n, is ‘oseok. Can you come over? I can’t find Dasom.”

“Hobi, honey, how much have you had to drink?” she asked softly. He was mumbling a lot and slurring his words.

“Um…I don’t know? A bottle or two of that red wine Joon likes?”

“Oh wow. Um…yeah. I’ll be over in a little bit, okay? Can you make sure the door is unlocked?”

Hoseok hung up after promising he’d unlock the door. While she was not sure what had led up to this, she got up and dressed in leggings and a comfortable sweater to head over. She didn’t know what she’d find, but she knew she had a long night ahead of her. Luckily, she had the next 3 days off from work after her weekend on call.

 When Y/n got to the apartment, she knocked lightly at the door before entering. Luckily, Hoseok had kept his word and the door was unlocked. She paused at the door to remove her shoes and smiled softly when she saw Dasom’s tiny pink house slippers still sitting on the mat beside the door.

“Hoseok?” she called as she walked through the living room. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room.

“In here,” he replied, followed by the distinctive sound of vomiting.

She found him, in nothing but his boxer briefs, knelt in front of the toilet in his master bathroom. The skin of his shoulders and up his neck was flushed from the alcohol and from getting sick from drinking too much. Y/n knelt down beside him and rubbed his back softly for a moment before speaking.

“Oh Hobi,” she murmured. She stood and wet a washcloth in cool water and placed it over the back of his neck, before heading toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and some painkillers.

“Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me,” he begged when he had a moment of a break between heaving.

“I’m just going to the kitchen, Hobi. I’ll be right back, okay?”

When he nodded, she quickly gathered the water and medication and placed them on his bedside table. Then, she turned back his bedsheets and fluffed the pillow on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom door before joining him in the bathroom. She found him sitting with his back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. She wet another washcloth and gently used it to wash some of the sweat off of his face. He tilted his face into her touch, and tears slipped out of his closed eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I just wanted to not feel so much hurt.”

“Hoseok, I wish I could help more with that. I hate seeing you hurt so much, but the only thing that will help is time. In time, you will be able to look back on the memories of your baby girl and smile at the light she was instead of sobbing. But for now, sob when you need to.” When she spoke, he opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment. His eyes were glossy with tears and the alcohol coursing through his system. “You feel okay to walk to bed?”

He nodded, so Y/n helped him stand and stood with him while he brushed his teeth. She took the washcloth from the back of his neck and hung it over the side of the tub. When he was ready, she wrapped her arm around his waist to make sure he’d stay steady until he got to the bed. He seemed to have begun to sober up a bit after being sick, so she helped him lay down and tucked him under the blankets. She turned to walk out of the bedroom, but he grabbed her arm.

“Please…don’t leave me. Stay?”

She just nodded, and he shuffled over in the bed to make room for her. She laid down beside him and turned off the lamp.

“Y/n? Could you hold me?” he asked softly.

“Of course, Hobi. Come here,” she whispered back. When she opened her arms to him, he curled into her and put his head on her chest. She could feel him crying and shaking a bit, so she hummed a song and rubbed his back soothingly until he fell asleep.

 It was several hours later when Hoseok woke up. The first thing he noticed was that his head was throbbing. After a few moments, the memories of the wine, vomiting, and Y/n came back to him. His eyes flew open, and he was a little surprised to find himself alone in his bed. He remembered her holding him until he fell asleep and the little song she was humming to him. Hoseok gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and saw the water and medication on the bedside table. He took it and walked into his bathroom to brush his teeth again. He pulled on some lounge pants and a white tee shirt before walking into the living room.

“Y/n?” he called.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

He walked toward his kitchen and saw her propped against the sink with her phone pressed to her ear, and ingredients for a possible breakfast spread across the counter.

“He’s okay, I promise, Joon. You had to know that this was bound to happen eventually, right?” she said with a smile into the phone. Hoseok could hear Namjoon’s voice murmuring on the line, probably fretting over him. “Namjoonie, I’m a nurse. He called the best possible person. Besides, he was puking his guts out when I got here, so I’m pretty sure he learned his lesson. And with the way he’s squinting at me right now, I’d say he has a hangover from hell…Yeah, you do that. See you soon.”

She hung up the phone before turning to Hoseok. “Think you can handle some breakfast?” she asked.

“Nothing much. I don’t think I could handle the smell of eggs or anything like that cooking.”

Y/n just nodded and popped some bread in the toaster before turning to pour him a cup of coffee. He handed him the coffee mug before pouring her own. When he added milk to his, she giggled, sipping her own coffee black.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked when the toast popped up. She spread just a bit of peanut butter on the slice before cutting it in half and handing it to him before treating the second slice the same way for herself. “The peanut butter is high in protein and will help take the edge off the hangover.”

He thanked her before sitting down on the stool behind the kitchen counter. He took a small bite of the toast and chewed thoughtfully before speaking. “Thank you for coming last night. I know you didn’t have to, so it means a lot that you cared enough to come check up on me then stay over.”

“Hobi, I care about you. Of course I would have come when you called.”

 That night was the only night he tried to drink his pain away. He had learned that it just made him feel worse in the long run. He began to simply take it a day at a time and tried not to work so much. Around nine months after Dasom’s death, Hoseok finally decided that he needed to clean out her room. Leaving everything like she was just going to come back was making it so much harder to heal. Plus he wanted to donate some of her things to the children’s ward. He had called and spoken with Taehyung to see what they needed, and he had a list of the things he could take them. Once he had decided, he called Y/n to see if she could help. They had begun talking more often since the night that he’d called her in a drunken stupor, and he considered her a good friend. He knew that Namjoon and Jungkook wouldn’t be able to hold it together in cleaning out her things, but Y/n would be. Something about her was soothing to Hoseok, and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Y/n came over early on a Saturday morning to help Hoseok empty out Dasom’s room. They had several boxes to fill. Hoseok had already removed the bed and had labeled each of the boxes. One box was to be taken to a local shelter that helped women and children who were escaping domestic violence situations, one box was to be taken to Dr. Park’s office for the children’s ward, a small box for things that Hoseok wanted to keep, and another small box of things to give to Namjoon and Jungkook. Hoseok had already taken all of the tiny hats and headbands that Dasom had collected to Dr. Park’s office except for one. The tiara she had worn the day that they had gotten the news that she was dying was in the box for Jungkook. He had asked for that one, since he knew it was her favorite and it was the one Dasom would always clip in his hair. Hoseok had moved her yellow puppy plushie into his room. It sat on his bed all day amongst his blankets and pillows so he could squeeze it tightly the days he missed her so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Hoseok and Y/n worked diligently that day. Neither said much, but together they were able to clear out the room. Dasom hadn’t accumulated that many possessions in her short life, and they were able to empty out the room in a little over 6 hours. She helped him load the boxes into his car. He wanted to deliver them himself to the different places. He knew that Dasom would have been so happy to know that other little girls were going to have her princess dresses and dollhouse; she had always been so giving.

“Y/n, could I ask you something before you go?”

“Sure, Hobi. What’s up?”

“After I drop off all of these things, would you go to dinner with me? I don’t think I should be alone tonight,” he replied.

“That sounds good. I’ll go home to shower and grab some pajamas and my toothbrush. How about I meet you back here at 6 oclock?”

Hoseok delivered everything to their respective donation points except for the box for Namjoon and Jungkook. He’d take theirs with him to the shop on Monday. After dropping everything off, he returned to his emptier apartment. Even though he knew that he had needed to do this, it still was difficult. The familiar ache in his chest had lessened some and he was able to remember happy times with his baby as he sorted through her things. He showered and thought about the day and how much help Y/n had been, and not just physically. Her presence was soft and soothing, and it was no wonder that she made a fantastic Hospice nurse. If the way she had handled Dasom’s Hospice period was any indication of the way she did her day to day work, she helped a lot of families. In the past year or so since meeting her, Y/n had become a welcome addition to his life and the lives of Namjoon and Jungkook. They often all spent time together playing games or watching movies. She’d even tried her best to teach Namjoon to cook Jungkook’s favorite meal at one point.

In thinking it over, Hoseok realized that he hadn’t actually been on a real date since he was with Dasom’s mother. While dinner with Y/n wasn’t an official date, he found himself wondering if she would be willing to go on an actual date with him. Even the thought of asking her made him a little nervous, so he decided that he’d ponder that a bit more when he wasn’t about to spend extended amounts of time with her.

 Y/n rushed through her shower to spend a little extra time getting ready. In the amount of time she had spent with Hoseok since caring for Dasom, they had gotten very close. Lately, she had realized that she’s developed a huge crush on the man with the heart shaped smile. While having dinner together as friends wasn’t a huge deal, and she knew that the invitation to stay overnight with him was just as a comfort measure to him, she couldn’t help but be a little nervous because of her stupid crush. Besides, she told herself, he was still in mourning for his child; he didn’t want a relationship with her.

They hadn’t discussed where they were going to have dinner, so she opted to dress in an outfit that would be appropriate for a variety of places. She opted for a light-yellow sundress with a jean jacket over it and ballet flats. She packed shorts and an oversized sweater for sleeping in and an outfit to wear home the following afternoon. After packing her things for the overnight stay, Y/n finished curling her hair in loose soft curls and pinned it out of her eyes, then did just a touch of natural makeup.

She pulled into the parking lot of Hoseok’s apartment complex at 5:56 pm, and decided she’d just take her overnight bag up to his apartment and they could leave from there together. She glanced down at her phone after ringing the doorbell, and when Hoseok opened the door, she looked up to find him in just a pair of jeans and still towel drying his hair.

“Hi,” she said softly, “I’m a few minutes early, but I thought I’d bring everything up.”

Hoseok smiled and apologized for not being ready yet. “I just lost track of time in the shower. Go ahead and take your bag into my bedroom. I’ll just finish drying my hair and grab a shirt then I’ll be ready to go.”

Hoseok walked back into his bathroom as Y/n placed her overnight bag just outside his closet door. When he’d opened the door to see her standing there in her cute dress and her hair curled that way, it had nearly taken his breath. She was gorgeous in such a soft, gentle way that he was a little bit addicted to. Something about her just felt like home.

 They had opted to go have sushi at a place near Hoseok’s apartment, so they had just walked over. During dinner, they had laughed and joked as much as possible to lighten up the solemnity of the day. Hoseok had to admit that he felt better after laughing and just being around Y/n. As they were walking back to the apartment, the sun was just starting to set. Without thinking about it, Hoseok reached over and took her hand, linking their fingers together. He felt her stiffen up for just a second before relaxing and squeezing his hand. He looked down at their linked hands and smiled at her.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to hold your hand all evening. I hope you don’t mind,” he said to her shyly.

“I don’t mind at all, Hobi. I kinda like it.”

 When they got back to the apartment, they decided to watch random reality tv shows and just lounge around. Y/n slipped into his master bathroom to change into the shorts and sweater she’d brought to sleep in. When she got the sweater on, she realized that it covered her shorts completely but there was nothing she could do about it. She stepped out into the living room to find that he’d changed into a tee and some lounge pants and was pouring them each a glass of wine.

He turned around with the glasses in his hand and found her standing in the living room in just a sweater that was so big that it kept slipping off of one of her shoulders.

“I swear I have shorts on. It just looks like I don’t because my sweater is so big. I just didn’t realize it when I packed it,” she said, nervously fiddling with the seams on her sleeves.

“Oh…okay,” he stammered. “You look so cute standing there. Seriously, my heart is pounding.” His face turned bright red as he realized that he’d actually said that out loud, but her giggle in response was enough to make him feel less embarrassed.

They curled up on the couch, sipping the wine and making fun of the rash decisions that the contestants on the reality show were making. To Hoseok, this felt like something they did every day, and he realized that he kind of wished it was something they did every day. After finishing the show they were watching, Hoseok glanced over to see Y/n dozing against the arm of the sofa. He smiled softly before deciding he’d just carry her to his bed. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, but there was no way he was going to make her sleep on his couch after everything she’d done for him that day. He scooped her into his arms bridal style and started towards his room. She woke up just as he was laying her down on his bed. He’d laid her on his side of the bed without thinking about it and was tugging the blanket up over her when her eyes fluttered open.

“What’re you doing, Hobi? I can’t steal your bed.”

“I’m a gentleman, Y/n. I refuse to let you sleep on my couch. I’ll sleep on the couch; it’s no big deal,” he smiled at her.

“It is to me. Can’t you just sleep in here with me? I promise I’ll be good,” she pouted at him.

He chuckled softly at the way she’d phrased it, then finally agreed. “Okay, Darling. If you insist. I’m just going to go turn off the living room light and the tv. I’ll be right back.”

She was already back asleep when he returned to the bedroom with her back facing the door. Hoseok went to the other side of the bed and climbed under the blankets. The light from the full moon was streaming in between the sheer curtains hanging over the window, and it caressed her cheek softly, making her glow. Y/n looked beautiful in sleep, and something about the way that she was snuggled into his pillow like she belonged there made his heart ache in such a good way. He kissed her forehead gently before whispering, “Goodnight, Darling.”

 Hoseok woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and something savory that definitely had bacon in it, and his bed empty. He used the restroom and brushed his teeth before following his nose out to find Y/n singing softly in his kitchen as she pulled a beautiful quiche out of the oven. She had to have been awake for a while to have put this together.

“That smells amazing,” he murmured as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she giggled. “I hope you don’t mind that I raided your fridge and made breakfast.”

“Not at all. I rarely make time to eat more than a slice of toast as I’m running out the door to the shop, so this is a serious treat for me.”

Y/n sliced up the pie and plated it before grabbing a fruit salad out of the fridge she’d also made. Hoseok moaned at the first bite he took of the quiche. It was so good. The crust was flaky, the eggs were cheesy and there were just enough chunks of vegetables and bacon to make every bite a little different. Paired with the tangy pineapple and sweet strawberries in the fruit salad made it twice as good. Y/n blushed a little bit at his visceral reaction to the food she’d made before they began chatting about the day. By the time that Namjoon had called to see if they wanted to catch a matinee of some horror movie that Jungkook wanted to see, Hoseok had eaten two big slices of the quiche.

“I need to shower, but I’m so full,” Hoseok whined.

“I didn’t tell you to try to eat half the quiche at once,” Y/n laughed. “Go shower. I’ll put everything away and clean up our breakfast dishes.”

 Y/n had fallen asleep quickly after Hoseok had carried her to his bed. She’d woken up just after 7:30 with her head pressed to Hoseok’s bare chest, her ear pressed just above his heartbeat. He’d had both arms wrapped loosely around her. It felt so good that it scared her a bit; she’d wriggled her way out of his arms and tucked a pillow in her place. When she was stressed or needed to think, she cooked, so she made breakfast. She’d actually been on her second cup of coffee when Hoseok had stumbled into the kitchen in all of his golden glory, and when he’d moaned at the taste of the food she’d made, her heart stuttered in her chest. It had made her wondered how else she could make him make that sound, and that was something she was not prepared to deal with, so she decided to shove those thoughts deep down and not consider them again.

She covered the quiche with plastic wrap and slid it and the fruit salad into his refrigerator. There was enough left for him to have that for several more breakfasts. She began to sing softly to herself as she emptied the coffee pot and washed up the plates, mugs, and silverware from their breakfast. She was rinsing the last of them when Hoseok slid his arms around her waste and snuggled her into a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her.

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

“Yes, I do. You took beautiful care of my daughter, and you are still taking care of me in subtle ways. So thank you. I wish she’d had someone like you to be her mom.”

Y/n sat the mug down, then turned around in Hoseok’s arms to face him. He had tears on his cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

“I’m sorry for getting emotional. I was just thinking about Dasom in the shower. If she had never died, I’d never have met you. And while I wish sometimes she was still here, I would never want her to suffer the way she did for any longer,” he whispered through his tears. “If she’d never died, we’d have never met and you wouldn’t be making my heart skip beats by singing while you clean my kitchen. I don’t know how to feel about that thought, but I don’t want to lose this chance at happiness. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m still a lot broken and a bit damaged from losing my daughter, but I like you a lot.”

“Oh Hobi,” Y/n smiled. “I like you too. I never told you, but Dasom made me promise to take care of you after she was gone. Keeping my promise to her has been a joy in itself, and when I woke up with my head on your chest this morning, I kept thinking how much she’d have laughed and teased me for falling for her Appa.”

Hoseok pressed his forehead to Y/n’s and closed his eyes. “She so would have. And she’d have asked me why I hadn’t given you kisses yet.”

He opened his eyes and looked into hers for just a moment. When all he saw was a soft happiness in her eyes, he pressed his lips to hers. She sank into the kiss slowly, slipping her fingers into his shower dampened hair. When he pulled away, they just stood staring at each other. He knew that they needed to take it slow, but he could feel the gap that was still in his chest from Dasom’s death closing up just a little bit. Y/n herself had been so healing to him just being there for him. They stood there for a few minutes, just holding on to each other before Hoseok spoke again.

“Why don’t you ride with me to the movie later? We can tell Joonie and Kookie about us. But there is a stop I want to make first.”

 Hoseok parked in the parking lot of the cemetery where Dasom was buried a couple of hours later. Y/n was sitting in the passenger seat holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers for him to leave on her grave.

“This is the first time I’ve been back here since the day we buried her, Y/n,” he sighed. “But I felt like I needed to do this. Just stay here. I won’t be long, I promise.”

She nodded before handing him the flowers. He got out and stood beside the car for just a moment before walking down the pathway that lead to the section designated for children. He knelt down in front of the tombstone and laid the flowers just at the base of the stone.

“Hi, my Love. I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit you here, but I’ve had a hard time adjusting to you being in heaven without me. Joonie and Kookie have taken good care of me. Y/n too,” he stopped speaking when the sobs collected in his throat before spilling out. “Speaking of Y/n, I kissed her in our kitchen this morning, Somie. I’m sure you’re looking down asking me what took so long, but your Appa can be so silly sometimes. Ah, Somie. I wish you were still here with us. I wish Y/n could have been your Eomma, but I wouldn’t have been able to meet her if you hadn’t gone to heaven.”

Hoseok stopped speaking for a moment to trace Dasom’s name on the tombstone. After he brought his hand back, a purple butterfly landed on his knee. It felt to him like that tiny butterfly was his baby girl acknowledging his words and telling him that she was okay. The butterfly fluttered it’s wings a few times before fluttering away, but it was enough to add a balm to his heart.

“Thank you for the butterfly, Baby Girl. I bet you are the most beautiful angel in heaven. Keep watching over me, yeah? I love you,” he whispered before wiping his tears and standing up.

As he walked slowly back to the car to rejoin Y/n, he knew that he still had a long way to go with healing, but he felt like he was finally making a solid step in the right direction. While he still missed his daughter, he knew that she’d want him to carry on without her, and for now, that was enough.

[immoralfag]

Bokuroo week 2020, Day 2.

music/dancing 

i forgot to at the page for this in my first post, and now ive re-made this one ahhh anyway here’s my second contribution to the week : 00  ao3 @bokurooweek

It starts the first night they were both finally home at the same time, Tetsurou prides himself in knowing Bokuto Koutarou backwards and forwards in every sense of the word, they’ve been together for three years, living together for two of those years.

They both travel for what they love and it takes a lot for both of them to be in the same place, it means the world to him every time it happens, that they both happen to be home at the same time.

But this, this is weird.

For the four hours they’ve both been home, give or take a few minutes, Tetsurou has caught Koutarou humming to himself twice, twice. It wouldn’t be nearly as weird if he were outright singing, Koutarou sings all the time, so much so that he does it in the shower, making breakfast, driving, reading, getting ready for bed, any time he can sing he’s pretty much singing, whether it’s a long or to some song stuck in his head he sings often.

The thing that’s really irking him right now, not even the humming its the song, it sounds familiar, that in itself wouldn’t be weird if they didn’t have such different music tastes, Koutarou tends to stick to the stuff he hears all the time, pop music, the few alt rocks, the one-off rap song, hell even country music if he hears the song enough.

But for him, Tetsurou, he can’t stand listening to songs on the radio, if he doesn’t know the song he can’t do anything, it happens that he listens to a lot of the stuff he grew up listening to, songs his father played around the house, video game music Kenma played around him, music his grandmother listened to, whereas Koutarou listens to a song once and sings it hours later like it’s his favourite song in the world. It’s something he loves about Koutarou, but there’s not a lot of overlap in their music, Koutarou listens to his stuff and he listens to his, and if there’s music playing at the apartment it’s Koutarou’s, stuff he mostly tunes out.

It’s shocking when he walks into the kitchen and Koutarou’s humming a tune he knows, and what makes things worse, as soon as he steps foot in the kitchen he stops. Like he’s ashamed to be caught humming, even though Koutarou isn't the type of person to do that, at least not around him.

So he tries to brush it off, doesn’t think anything of it until he walks into the bedroom and it happens again, there was humming in the hall and as soon as he steps into the bedroom it stops, he drops his bags on the bed, looking over at Koutarou who's putting clean clothes up on hangers in their closet, he doesn’t think twice before he’s crossing the room and wrapping his arms around his waist hooking his chin over his shoulder.

Koutarou leans into him, not stopping putting clothes away, he watches a moment, before he asks. “You ok, babe?”

“Yep! Why wouldn’t I be?” Koutarou seems normal, not any weird tint to his voice, nothing showing in his hands, only struggling with a few of his shirts that have softer fabric.

“Hmm.. ok.”

Koutarou stops, interlacing their fingers, letting the shirt fall from the hanger to the floor, finally giving up. “You ok?”

“Yes?” it comes out more of a question than he wanted it to, but he leaves it. Dropping his hands from around his waist and goes back to unpacking.

Ignoring the look Koutarou sends him, he goes back to unpacking; unpacking his few belongings he left with along with a few shirts he had to pick up along the way, throwing a few in the laundry, he turns to hang up shirts to find him still looking at him, Tetsurou raises an eyebrow all he does, in turn, is holding out his hand for the shirts, he hands them over pressing a kiss to his cheek in thanks, he leaves, he stands in the hall back to the wall waiting, nothing happens.

He sighs and retires to the kitchen to start dinner, wiping the thoughts from his mind,

_

Dinner ends up being eaten in the living room, pretty much sitting on one another trying to catch up on all the shows they watch. Tetsurou almost falls asleep on the couch at around 1 AM, Koutarou still commenting softly to himself about the show, he tries to listen as much as he can, but his eyes feel so heavy.

He doesn’t notice the room is quiet until Koutaro is shaking him gently, opening his eyes halfway he looks up at him, who smiles softly at him, “You should get into bed, baby.”

He whines, pushing his face into his stomach, “I gotta get my stuff out of the laundry.” He doesn’t think he can move, he’s so warm and comfortable. Koutarou laughs, running a hand through his hair, which makes him lean into his touch.

“Hmm, I can do it. I gotta put my stuff in the dryer anyway, you just get ready for bed.”

He nods begrudgingly, it takes a few tries to get up, and a little help from his lovely boring but before long he’s off to brush his teeth, it’s only after that he’s washed his face and brushed his teeth, that he remembers he put his only comfortable pair of pyjamas in the dryer hours earlier.

With a sigh he sets off to the laundry room, he stops in his tracks out in the hall when he hears it though, it takes him a moment to realize that he does, in fact, knows the song he’s singing, so much so that, it’s one of the ones that his grandmother used to play, her playing it when she’d talk about an old flame she had back in America the one year she went, years before she met his grandfather, all with a far off tone, talking of blue eyes and blond hair, when she’d get quiet singing along as best she could in English.

“Oh, come back to me, darling, you’ll see. I can give you all the things that you wanted before…”

“If you’ll stay with me..”

Tetsurou stands there, heart in his throat, he doesn’t think as he escapes to the bedroom, kicking off his pants to his boxers and laying down on his side, closing his eyes tightly. All he can see is his grandmother who’s know long dead, singing that song well she baked, and him listening to every word with rapt attention, it was one of the reasons he learned English, anything to be closer to her, the years he had with her were short and few but he loved her, he remembers how heartbroken his father had been when she’d passed when he was ten. How he wouldn’t get up out of bed for weeks, and how his grandfather was there every day for months soon moving in with them soon after.

He wants to say that he’s unaffected by the song being sung by Koutarou, but he’s not he squeezes his eyes shut turning on to his side, he opens his eyes to fumble with his side lamp, everything is thrown into darkness on his side, he closes his eyes, even if he feels more awake than ever.

He doesn't think he’ll sleep tonight, so he waits and waits. He knows logically it hasn’t been that long since he left the hall, but it feels like hours before he hears the door creak open followed by Koutarou’s weight settle in next to him.

Koutarou shuffles a moment, before he’s pressed against his back arm around him, his breath on the back of his neck lulls him to a sense of security. He feels himself sink into the warmth as much as he doesn’t want to think about the song he does, the words sounding all too close to home, and something in him aches, hoping that to Koutarou it’s just a song, and nothing more, and that’s not how he’s feeling.

He almost doesn’t hear what he says, he feels it on his back before he registers the words, “You sure you’re okay?”

He nods stiffly, before he gulps and verbally replies, “Yes.” he doesn’t know how to get the other words he wants to say out and not just a stream of gibberish.

“You sure?”

He shakes his head no, he almost worries he did something wrong when he feels Koutarou’s arms unwinding from around his middle until he feels his hand tap on his shoulder twice telling him to turn on to his side.

He keeps his eyes down to Koutarou’s chest, watching him breathe deeply and slowly, he doesn’t dare look into his eyes because he doesn’t think he can take it.

His hand is still on his arm, rubbing up and down his arm in a soothing matter, he feels himself relax into the touch.

“What’s going on, you’ve been weird since you got back.”

He waves that off, he had felt fine until he heard the song, if not a little weirded out by the sudden humming but even that could be played off as one of Koutarou’s moods. It’s always a little weird at first when they get back, just being back in the apartment is weird. Hell not having a game to think of is the oddest about being back, having weeks at a time to relax and do their own training on their own time.

“It's umm… why were you singing that song?” it comes out weakly and nothing how he wanted to, and he can’t make himself look up into those eyes.

Koutarou is quiet for a second. He nearly looks up to see if something is wrong, “What song?”

He snorts feeling lighter, at least that’s the same, the absolute unknowingness of when he’s singing or what he’s singing.

“The one in the laundry room.”

He can pretty much hear the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work out what song he was singing, “OH” he shouts, he winces, Koutarou pats his arm in apology, “right!”

Now it’s Koutarou’s turn to be quiet, this time he does look up and he comes face to face with a very distressed Koutarou, he’s biting his lip and avoiding looking at him, his hand stilling on his arm.

“I---ummm…”

“What?”

“It’s embarrassing.” he grumbles, when he goes to bite his nails, he stops the hand, putting it on Koutarou’s face and rubbing along his cheekbone forgetting all about his own needs and trying to comfort him.

“I’m sure it’s not nearly as embarrassing as you think if I remember correctly there was this one time in high school that was a lot more---” he jokes before he's rudely interrupted.

“No, no, no.” Koutarou says all too quickly, covering Tetsurou’s mouth with his hand, looking at him with pleading eyes, making him grin under his hand.

God, he missed him. He’s not looking forward to the next time he leaves.

Taking hold of Koutarou’s wrist he pulls it off his mouth and holds that hand to his chest, he knows his heart his beating wildly, but he doesn't care as he stares into Koutarou’s eyes, which makes his heart ache more, him looking sad and far away, even though he’s finally, finally right there.

He thinks he has to say more to get him to talk, but he shushes him when he opens his mouth. Koutarou looks away for a second, before his eyes settle on him once more, so intense with love that Tetsurou feels it in his bones.

“I sometimes…” he goes quiet, he waits. “I listen to your playlist when we’re apart… because it feels like you’re there.” he all but mumbles the last bit, he almost doesn’t hear it, the words make his heart soar, he can’t help the totally lovesick smile that comes over his face.

And Koutarou would know that if he wasn’t looking down at their hands where they’re still held to his chest. “I love you.” he blurts out before he can think of a good reply, it shocks Koutarou so much that he looks up at him, and when he sees the look on his face a matching smile comes to his face, crooked and perfect.

“I love you too.”

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (1988 Special)

Roger Taylor x Reader BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: so this is not even a real chapter??? i mean, it doesn't have a number - it's really a reallll epilogue, you really get to know what happen in the eleven years that follow the end of the story. this wasn't really on my outline - i just kept thinking about the characters cause theyre SO CUTE and DESERVE THE BEST and im an absolute softie so i couldnt help but write this. its probably a bit messy cause im tired atm but im happy i wrote this and i want to share it with you guys already. im curious to know what you guys think about it! - also, just making it clear, there's no story for a sequel, so there's no sequel coming. just so you guys know. thanks again for stopping by and reading my story and being AMAZING. im a bit rusty i guess so sorry about the size of the chapter

Words: around 2.8k

1988

You heard Roger hitting the drums as you opened the studio door.

"Hey, Y/N", Freddie said, coming to hug you. "It's your man recording", he told you, and you nodded.

"I see", you answer, and Jim comes closer to Freddie and says hello to you. You really like the way they feel at ease with each other - it just looks natural. It's been long ever since you saw Freddie so peaceful.

But Roger soon showed up in your field of vision, having just left the recording booth. "Babe, it's so good to see you", he said, hugging you by the waist. "Good seeing you too, Rog. What are you guys recording?, you ask, and Deacy answers.

"It's 'Rain Must Fall', just wrote it with Freddie", he says, as Freddie listens to Roger's recording.

"It's still not right", he says, and Roger sighs. "Be right back", he tells you, going inside the booth.

Now that you're paying attention, you realize it's latin percussion. "This is really nice", you tell Freddie, and he smiles. "Thanks, darling. How's the museum? Did it fall apart after you spent a month away?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Actually, they've been holding up quite nicely", you say, referring to the period you've just spent with them in Montreux. "They're getting used to it, I suppose", and he nods.

You and Roger have been taking turns the last decade on who's gonna spend time along with the other, but now, after you've got your PhD and was promoted to Senior Curator, your job could be done without official office hours, so you've been following Roger around a bit more - which is nice, especially when he's in Montreux, such a calm place you thought about retiring there, in the future.

"And this outfit, too, I love it. You look like such a serious business woman" Jim said, pointing to your tailleur. "I have to look the part, Jim", you shrug, and Brian laughs. "I miss your yellow Chuck Taylors days, Y/N", he says, and you laugh. "These shoes are killing me, so I do, too", you tell him.

"I won't invite you to dance, then", Freddie said, and you frowned. "Please do, Freddie. You know how I love these latin inspired songs of yours", you pouted, and Freddie laughed, extending a hand to you.

You could feel Roger's eyes watching you through the glass as you danced with Freddie. Rain Must Fall reminded you of Cool Cat, and even though the Hot Space days, in 1981 were complicated, it reminded you of an afternoon with Roger on a yacht on Lake Geneva, the two of you drinking mimosas and sunbathing as Montreux glimmed under the Riviera sun.

"God, I hate this fucking song", Roger said, sipping on his mimosa.

"It's not the best", you agreed, and he laughed.

"This fucking album, I swear to God. If it wasn't for you here, I would've dropped this", he said, and you got up to prepare another mimosa for you.

"Don't say that, Rog. You wouldn't drop the band", you said, and he sighed.

"You're right. But I would drop this album, though. This song, even - I didn't take part in anything regarding the production. I just watched, like you watch a car crash", he says, and it's your turn to laugh.

"You're so dramatic", you tell him, mixing the orange juice and the champagne. "But seriously, babe. Do you even like the songs we're making now?", he asks, and you take a sip of your drink.

"I like Under Pressure", you say, and you're happy to see his face lighten up as he laughs. "Of course you do. I'm impressed you didn't ask Bowie for an autograph yet", he said, and you laugh along. "I have to stop myself from fangirling every time he's around, you know. It's pretty hard, but I do my best not to embarass you", you told him, sitting by his side.

His sun kissed skin made his eyes even brighter than usual - like lapis lazuli on bronze.

"Like I try not to embarrass you by looking stupid when we're on one of your fancy dinners?", he asks, hugging you by the side. "Exactly", you told him, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He tasted like orange.

As you now kept dancing with Freddie, Jim pulled Deacy for a dance too, and eventually everyone was dancing to Roger's percussion. Each had a different level of success, and you were trying to help Brian when Roger finished his part.

It made you happy to have moments like this. After A Kind Of Magic, in 1986, the band was fighting constantly - it made you sad to see such thing. Roger even created a side band, The Cross, and he worked with them for a while before reuniting with Queen for this new album.

You were always a huge fan of his solo work, but you never connected with The Cross - and you felt like he didn't, either. They never really challenged him, and anything only gets better after receiving honest feedback.

But now Freddie wanted to produce again with the rest of the band - as much as they could, non-stop. They wouldn't even tour after this album, The Miracle. You felt like Roger knew exactly why these changes happened, but he didn't share them with you. You didn't really mind - it was not only his privacy, but the privacy of the rest of the band members. The fact that he was trustworthy enough to keep his friend's reasoning behind a polemic decision private only made you love him more.

"Babe", Roger called, walking over to you. You hugged him, his known smell now more refined, cologne mixed with the patchouli and substituting the cigarette smoke - you both quitted smoking, since you heard it could be harmful for little ones.

"The kids are with their nanny, right?" Rog asked you, and you nodded.

It was 1982 when you realized you couldn't keep your breakfast - you vomited every morning, almost religiously, twenty minutes after you ate.

Roger was immediately concerned on the phone - you spent two weeks in Mexico for work, and it was only when Roger spent a weekend there at the end of your trip that he told you not to drink the tap water. So you were both convinced you had some parasite, and Roger took you to a doctor - he liked to spend time with you when you were both in London, even in boring activities, since you still lived in separate flats, always trying to take it slow - even though you felt like a teenager when you had to pack to stay a weekend at your boyfriend's house - and you considered talking to Roger about moving in together again.

The doctor soon realized there were no parasites inside you, but there was a baby - a 3 months old little boy, in fact, as the doctor confirmed after taking you two to the ultrasound room.

You could never forget Roger's face once he understood what the doctor told the two of you. He was going to be a father.

But the realization that you were going to be a mother took a little longer to hit you. It was only when you heard the baby's heartbeat that you really understood what was going on inside you - a baby. Your baby. Roger's baby.

Proof that you were together, proof that you belonged to each other, that you loved each other.

"This is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard", Roger told you, and you smiled in agreement.

Nine months later, Apollo was born.

You agreed on Apollo because you always thought about how Roger reminded you of Apollo, and it did remind you of New York, too - the Apollo Theater was a landmark only a couple dozens streets above the apartment you grew up in.

But Apollo was much more like you than he was like his dad. He inherited his dad's dirty blonde curls, but his eyes were just like yours, and so was his personality - he was very determined, liked to be alone, and a full blown nerd. He taught himself to read when he was four, and now, at age 6, he liked to read The Hobbit by himself.

He didn't speak with an English accent, oddly enough, even though he was raised in London - he spoke water like his dad, but copied your accent in every other word.

Roger would hold him and hug him and always spend time with "his little guy", always telling him how proud he is to be the father of a genius, and Apollo's cheeks would be flushed pink, just like yours did when Roger told you how smart you are.

When Apollo was born, you both agreed to move in together into a big family home, but you filled the walls with artwork and tapestry, and Roger made sure there was always good music playing - it didn't feel like you were abandoning your old selves to become parents; it felt like a natural step.

And for financial reasons - mostly to protect Apollo and to make taxes easier - you and Roger decided to get married. He tried to play the practical part, reaffirming marriage was just a title and the two of you were way beyond that, but you knew, deep down, that he was incredibly happy to get on his knees and propose.

It was a simple ceremony in 1984 - close friends and family under the hawaiian sunset, the Lana'i Island's atmosphere made you feel like you were in a dream. With a simple cotton white dress, you reunited with Roger - in a half open, white cotton button up - in front of a licensed marriage performer, and you became Ms Taylor.

Roger used any excuse to call you Ms Taylor, savoring the name on his tongue just like he did with your lips on honeymoon.

Apollo was 2, and stayed with his grandparents for a week as the two of you enjoyed your honeymoon on paradise. "It's funny how this is like, the millionth time I feel like I'm on honeymoon with you", you tell Roger, and he pouts. "If you consider honeymoon everytime we go somewhere amazing alone and keep fucking like teenagers, then yeah. But this is special. This feels more… I don't know. Official", he said, and you agreed.

And all that young love had a result - you soon found out you got pregnant again after a routine blood test. Roger was, again, the happiest man on Earth.

You felt calmer this time around - a kid and responsibilities didn't ruin your relationship with Roger the first time around, and you were actually pretty good parents.

So when Live Aid came about, you were huge - you enjoyed the many performances, but when Queen was onstage, it felt different. You could remember when, almost fifteen years ago, you saw these guys broke, rehearsing and travelling around in a van.

Now they were here, and in a day filled with performances from stars, they shined the brightest.

You don't know if it was all the emotions you felt watching them, but once you finally got home, the sun about to rise - Apollo long asleep - you sat down to prepare a warm bath for the two of you, but you felt something warm running down your legs. Your water broke.

You and Roger ran to the Hospital, and after a few hours, Artemis was born.

She screamed, not cried, once she first looked at you and Roger, almost annoyed - like she was sad she missed the show.

Artemis was a logical name choice - Apollo's twin in greek mythology - but the kid also got her strong will. She looked just like her father, big, round blue eyes and pink, full lips soon learned to express what she desired and complained when things seemed wrong in her perspective.

At the early age of three and with a reduced vocabulary, she convinced the two of you to get the smallest drum set you could find, and she tried to repeat her fathers movements on it, still too small for her tiny kit, but proud of the loud noises she made, hitting it recklessly.

Roger looked at it as if he was seeing a miracle.

The kids were raised primarily in London, but they spent some time in Montreux, when the band was recording, under their father's care, or on tour when you could stay with them - tour made the kids so confused about their whereabouts that it needed a conjoined effort - but now that the band was recording in London with no plans for long periods away, it was going to be interesting.

Apollo was just getting started in school, and soon it would be Artemis turn. They still had no dimension of their fathers - or their "uncles" - importance, but you and Roger talked about this, waiting for the day you'd have to explain your life for the kids, who you were before you were their parents.

You wondered if Apollo would think back on the time he went to dad's work and he was dressed as a woman - he couldn't recognize Roger when he was Rogerina while recording the video for I Want To Break Free until he took his wig off.

It was a better reaction than John's kids had, screaming in fear of the old, scary and tall lady that tried to pick them up.

The latest video recording was incredibly sweet, actually - it was for The Miracle, the single, and the band was going to be interpreted by 11 year olds. The kid that played Freddie was absolutely brilliant, mimicking all of his signature moves.

But it was the kid that played Roger who stole your heart.

As you watched the tiny Rog rehearse, you couldn't help but imagine Artemis hitting her drums - maybe in a few years, she'd be able to actually play something.

You also thought about Apollo, how he'd look like an even younger version of Roger if he was sitting on the stool, bouncing his curls and pouting in concentration.

You really loved the life you lived now, and when you looked back to all the drama that went between you and Roger so you could get here - two happy, fully realized people; and two great parents - you'd do it all again.

You kept thinking about it as the kid rehearsed Roger's part in the song, until you felt a familiar smell fill the air around you, and an arm snaking around your waist.

"Hello, beautiful stranger. Are you lost?", Roger whispered, his husky voice still able to give you chills.

"I am, actually. I can't find my husband, and I came here just to see him before work", you said.

"How did he get so lucky to have you?", he asks, and you turn around to kiss him.

"Actually, I'm his good luck charm", you say, pulling him closer to you.

He was ready for the shoot, so you felt bad when you broke the kiss and realized you transfered part of your lipstick to his lips.

"Shit, your makeup artist is going to kill me", you say, trying to wipe it away.

"It's fine", he says, kissing you again. "So I'm picking Apollo from school today, right?", he confirmed, and you nodded. It would always amaze you how you found your own level of responsibility, of the feared and dreaded domesticity, without losing the passion you had for each other. Taking it slow.

But now, back in the studio, you said goodbye to everyone, and followed Roger to a limo.

You always had your nights out - nights where you'd stay in a fancy hotel room just for the sake of being together in different ambiances. You two learned from your trip to Paris how it makes you more in love with each other, the new place making you fonder of what you know and love - in your case, Roger.

So when he popped open a bottle of champagne while you undressed, and once you were only in your lingerie, Roger took his own shirt off, knowing to pass it to you - a ritual, really.

You both went out, relaxed and comfortable, and enjoyed the view.

The Thames was below you, and you could see the entire city - if you tried, you could point where the bar you first met was, and Kensington Marked, and the first flat you shared. London was a huge part of your story.

"Let's make a toast", Roger said, and you nodded. "To what?", you asked, but you knew the answer.

You've been together for almost twenty years, now, so it's normal for you to know what to expect from Roger. But it doesn't feel boring - it feels like home.

"Us", he says.

-

Taglist: 

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

[audiogrizzly]

Top 5 Games of 2019

It was a little tricky to construct a top 5 for this year, though there have been a couple of surprises.  I wasn’t expecting the year to be a bit crap as we are no w on the cusp once more of a new generation.  But 2012 wasn’t all that bad of a year (PS4 and Xbox One would release in 2013) and at the moment, everyone is doing alright.  PS4 has sold through over 100 million systems, Nintendo are definitely on an “on” generation with Switch, Xbox has been able to get back into peoples good books with things like Game Pass (on both Console and PC, their PC side they seem to really be turning around), there’s even interesting things happening in the mobile space with Apple Arcade.

This won’t be the last year where my top 5 games are full of current gen titles, I am expecting the new systems to drop in around November, last time it was hard to find a top 5 specific to PS4 (as I listed each platform separately back then).  It IS however, another list of mostly AAA tier games.  If you want to know what smaller more “interesting” games I have been playing, check out my honourable mentions at the end.

Also, follow me on Melee.  It’s this new image blogging service from Imgur which you can download now on the IOS App Store (its just on iPhone at the moment) and it has seemingly been built to help people share gaming related clips and images off of places like Twitter and Instagram (and err, here on Tumblr).  I posted a couple of daft clips of me failing in Modern Warfare and Destiny 2 and it didn’t take long for them to amass a few likes and comments.

That sounded like a sponsored advert but ain’t nobody paying me for this.  Let’s get into my top 5

5. Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order

I was about to select Gears 5 to be my number 5 until I saw sense and cast my memory back to when I started playing Jedi (all the way back in November.  I was impressed by its intense action, impressive visuals and great characters.  I especially enjoyed the 4 armed pilot who always complains.  I did feel that towards the end I got sick of managing large groups of enemies so I dropped the difficulty to get through it, but I still haven’t achieved 100% of activities on all planets so I can still go back to it one day.

4. Borderlands 3

We all knew this was coming but not even I had any idea that we would have been actually playing it in 2019 way back at the start of the year.  For me, I look at the game.  I don’t care about weird magicians or their insane sounding legal woes, all I’m interested in is the work of a team who deserved better for their last title, but am still glad returned to what they do best, looting and shooting.  I enjoyed rejoining these characters I have followed over the last 10 years, all the referenced to older games, cameos from characters from Tales From the Borderlands and The Pre Sequel and was sad to see some people go.  I still have about a year of extra content to go through and I really appreciate the efforts they have made to make the game last longer than just one playthrough through in the Proving Grounds, Circle of Slaughter and Mayhem modes.  Though I have always tended to stick to Borderlands games and create builds for each and every vault hunter, so I will be doing that.

3. Mortal Kombat 11

It’s been a while since I last put a fighting game into my end of year round up.  And I HAVE fallen off MK11 a little bit, but this entry reminded me of how impressive it is for Nether Realms to pack their fighting games with some many things to do and keep people playing outside of just going into matchmaking and fighting others.  The Vault this year is basically another little adventure full of exploration and puzzle solving and the Towers of Time give you plenty of challenge and direction of many months to come.  You also have to give the developer credit for never backing down on the brutality of the game, they must have all got their heads together after DC Universe vs. and vowed never again to make watered down versions of Fatalities.  It is a game that keeps getting better and better.

2. Call of Duty Modern Warfare

I was debating whether or not to include this years CoD.  I always get the same type of enjoyment out of it each year, people complain that it never changes but I’m glad it sticks to a formula.  Of course they are not identikit games, there are new maps, new modes, new ways of building your loadout and new touches, like how in this year you can snap to edges to stay in cover while you shoot, there’s the new special equipment system where you can drop ammo or reduce your footstep noise.  Having doors you can either peek through or smash open adds another level of strategy, there have been times where I have been able to escape being under fire by closing a door, re-positioning and then wasting whoever just wanders in.

The campaign this year, good to see it back, but whatever, the co-op mode is Spec Ops again, like it was back in MW2 and 3 but on a much larger scale, I have yet to complete one of these btw.  But as always, it’s the multiplayer that does it for me and Modern Warfare deserves credit for being what must be the first AAA game to feature cross platform play, not just launch with it.  I know that games like Fortnite are popular, but I don’t see that as a AAA title, it doesn’t have the full package, it’s just a mode and it started off small.  Call of Duty is expected to be big each year, has a lot riding on it and allowing for cross play is a big step.  I especially appreciate being able to play with a keyboard and mouse on PS4 and being able to matchmake only with people playing with controllers on PC, in fact, I have never really given the game much of a shot on PC before as I know people just fall of it, there has often been low player numbers reported on the PC versions of CoD and it looks like it won’t have that problem this time round due to cross play.

Modern Warfare still has to contend with Destiny 2 and Overwatch for my time as my main multiplayer game but it’s still as fun as ever.

1. Control

Put this down as my main “surprise” game of 2019.  A game which was not on my watch list, though I was aware of it as you can’t ignore a game from the makers of Max Payne (I did skip Alan Wake and didn’t care much for Quantum break though).  Bought it at the last minute before its release, downloaded it and was wowed by the sinister nature of the environment you run around in.  This weird fictitious US government agency which looks into paranormal activity which you seem to have become in charge of because you picked up a mysterious weapon from the deceased Director while searching for your brother.  What then follows is about 12 hours of wacky powers and odd video clips as you unearth what has been going on in this strange ever morphing building.

I especially loved how the game never holds your hand too much, the map of each floor is vague enough that you also have to rely on in-game signposting to move around, as well as a bit of memory work.  There is also great humour involved too in some of the PSA posters on a lot of the walls, the antics of the caretaker and the videos you find of Dr. Darling throughout the game.

I did have a few weird technical issues with the game throughout playing, but still found it to be visually pleasing, there was this weird hitch that used to appear after coming out of the pause screen that always threw me, it would be followed by a few moments of low performance before getting back into the smooth action.  But this didn’t stop me from having a great time with Control.  Perhaps the game that will be the most prominent in my head when I think of 2019.

So there you have it, control is my best game of 2019.  But let’s look at the other new games I played throughout the year in my honourable mentions:

Gears 5

The Outer Worlds

Days Gone

Apex Legends

Far Cry New Dawn

Trover Saves the Universe

Concrete Genie

Devil May Cry 5

Tom Clancy's The Division 2

And also a special mention to these old games that were rereleased/remastered/repackaged etc in 2019:

Borderlands Game of the Year Edition Remastered

Halo Reach

And now, a look at the games I have on my watchlist for 2020:

Cyberpunk 2077

Last of Us Part 2

Ghost of Tsushima

Halo: Infinite

Watch Dogs Legion

Phantasy Star Online 2

Gods & Monsters

Doom Eternal

Overwatch 2

Diablo IV

Minecraft dungeons

Marvel's Avengers

Carrion

Streets of Rage 4

Will they all even come out?  Let’s find out, happy new year!