#no shade to anyone who has used author to address me before

[reginrokkr]

𝐂𝐋𝐗𝐕𝐈. This is a topic I've been wanting to address ever since I finished the Chenyu Vale questline, but never knew what to make of it due to the fact that it was novel... in a way. Before diving in, I want to preface that this will be surrounding the premise: What does pure blood Khaenri'ahn special? So if you see me digressing until I reach to that point, do bear with me. I will.

Something that caught my attention first is the few nods we get throughout the questline as we advance that there were other creatures there before gods came to Liyue, creatures grander or less grander that would be called Adepti which, in essence, is just a title and not something that one is born as. This isn't anything groundbreaking as it is obvious that dragons and their brethren existed before Phanes' arrival to Teyvat, but it was a curious indicator to me nonetheless that other kinds of creatures existed alongside them, pure elemental beings that have other shapes that aren't limited to dragons (Nahida's second quest comes in handy here, a reminder that the form a being takes doesn't matter, what does matter is their essence, their spirit). But to this there is an additional layer when Fujin argues that humans, creatures artificially created by Phanes to dwell Teyvat, have an innocence not so dissimilar from that which these creatures that existed before have.

To put a small parenthesis before continuing, I want to point out that Lingyuan mentions four reasons that the actions of any living creature follow: natural principles, logic, emotions or anyone's orders. And so she poses a question to the traveler and the traveler asks another question in a one for one deal: Those that come from nature will, for some reason, go against nature— against the laws nature originally followed. Will humans also go against humanity, against the principles they initially followed, for certain reasons?

If human activities are part of the laws of nature... How would you [Lingyuan] view humanity?

The answer she provides to this question is precisely what I want to bring to attention: Humans were part of nature in the distant past, but they aren't any longer. This whole questline explained more in depth about the Archon War, about the times that used to be like back then down to the human behavior and coexistence with nature and its creatures. We know at this point that the Archon War took place after the Apocalypse and that it became a turning point in several aspects hard to miss at a worldly level.

As another parenthesis, we know of the existence of the primordial sea from which all life came in a natural manner, that used to be on the surface before the world was altered (possibly when Phanes and the four shining shades won the war against the dragon sovereigns for the first time, as a result of the Apocalypse or both) and that the energy it contains isn't just hydro (raw or broken down to make it simpler, as it was stated in the event that took place in Enkanomiya that elements exist in simpler and more complex forms), but (an)other kind of energy(ies). Neuvillette, as a dragon sovereign and a creature that resides in the realm of light has an affinity for light, but it is interesting to think that upon reclaiming his authority, both pneuma and ousia coexist within him without posing any danger to his health even if there have been various instances in which these elements were described as independent elements but mutually virulent if they interact. Which begs the question: Could it be that within the primordial sea there is ousia energy too? Even better yet: is it possible that there was a time when what we know as the Abyss wasn't toxic to anything of Teyvat, but eventually something turned it so?

On the topic of humans specifically, it was Phanes who created them, but we also know because of Neuvillette that, unless what he did is limited to Oceanids, it is also possible to alter their inner constitution significantly as they live without going through the process of birth and have the resulting humans with the change that was done, following the same principle Phanes did to create humans. To go back to Lingyuan's words that humans used to be part of nature but they aren't anymore, what makes me wonder is if during or after the Apocalypse humans in general underwent a significant change in their constitution that those who later on would come to be pure blood Khaenri'ahns didn't. As for what this change could be, I think it might be related to the elemental energy.

Because we learn from Dottore's study documents of the Eleazar (highly likely tied with abyssal energy) that humans possess elemental levels of energy innately. And he also discovered that the higher these levels are, the more dangerous and aggressive the effects of Eleazar are on said individuals. This could be a result of the abyssal energy consuming elemental energy, and how dangerous it can be of pure elemental energies even from the light realm as vishaps and dragons are. The reason why I think this could be a plausible reason to determine the purity of a Khaenri'ahns blood or lack of thereof is that in the beginning, perhaps these humans were created in a way that they have at least a higher tolerance to the abyssal energy which, as I mentioned earlier, could've been an actual part of Teyvat before and as we currently know it is star-devouring. While I have no doubt that human life was possible in Khaenri'ah due to the studies they must've made of the abyss alongside medicine, fauna and flora there was incompatible with life— so there is a possibility that humans struggled with sicknesses akin to Eleazar unless there is a tolerance that either reduces this vulnerability or erases it completely.

#◟༺✦༻◞ events to be remembered in blue veins ┊addendum.┊ #if this stands true #it may have some grounds as to why #there was this pursuit of human creation in Khaenri'ah #as the top achievement of the magnum opus #as a means for survival and perhaps of replication even #of whatever gene or energy the pure blood Khaenri'ahns have #that makes them distinct from those who aren't #it'd be particularly interesting if Gold is a pure blood Khaenri'ahn #and if she used anything from her own body for human creation #there are many other implications too #like these humans being part of the natural nature of T.eyvat #and while the others weren't this dependency on gods #in order to survive or advance as a civilization #as opposed to just be guided by them as it used to be in the past #with the seelies at least #like Nabu Malikata herself #and arguably some gods #like R.hukkadevata #because even if she eventually became an archon #she saw potential in humans #and used their dreams to heal the land #from the initial wave of Eleazar #this is all just to offer a possibility #as to why Khaenri'ahns are built different #and where this pride comes from #because it was blatant #it would also explain other things such as the nature of the curse #which in my opinion is tied to abyssal energy too #and why some turned into hilichurls while others not

[ineffable-sideburns]

Your Shades of Gray and My Shades of Gray Mean Different Things

A Good Omens meta in defense of and analyzing Aziraphale, with the help of Granny Weatherwax, other Discworld characters, Pratchett himself, and a bit of Neil.

Note: All criticism and even the writing off of Aziraphale is valid even if I disagree with a lot of it and love Aziraphale. Also, Roland Barthes said smart things (death of the author - literally in this case, GNU Sir Terry.) That said, having the background of reading almost 20 Discworld novels at this point, and someone who is deeply obsessed with Terry Pratchett (I cry like once a month when I remember he's gone and the Discworld is complete), and based on how I view fiction in general, I don't think Aziraphale should be given up on until his story is finished. I also truly think that being familiar with Discworld gives you a different context to view the Good Omens characters in, and it's a pretty positive one, generally.

So, for anyone who may not be as familiar with Pratchett or Discworld, I want to start off with this:

He would agree with a lot of the points you make about why Aziraphale (or rather people in general) is so awful. He was angered to no end by the stupidity and complacency of most people. After Terry died, his assistant Rob Wilkins opened a letter Terry had addressed to him, which included:

"Look after the business and it will look after you. For all you have done, for all of the little things and all of the much bigger things and for the burying of the bodies … I thank you."

And of the above, Rob said:

"Just to be clear: there were no actual bodies in need of burying during my more than 20 years of working with Terry Pratchett. Terry could get quite exasperated with people sometimes, and certainly did not (as people often found themselves saying about him) suffer fools gladly. But he never got that exasperated."

Another note before we go on: Yes, there are Discworld spoilers. I don't think that seeing Discworld spoilers makes the books any less readable, as someone who had a lot spoiled for me and read about 20 books anyway so far.

Also: I don’t want to get lost in the “well Aziraphale actually did this bad thing for this reason” discussion since GO is open to so many interpretations: let’s just assume he’s deeply flawed and guilty of all the criticism I’ve seen

Terry Pratchett was a MASTER of character development. I’ve never seen anyone do it better than him. I’m gonna talk about a few of the many well-developed characters he gave us throughout his life and why they reflect his views above, and why I’m so certain Aziraphale’s redemption and finished character development will feel so well earned.

Granny Weatherwax, the inspiration for this meta. Granny is rude, arrogant, stubbon, manipulative…and extremely compassionate. A good person who does good things, yet the last thing anyone would call her is nice. In Witches Abroad, she said that because her sister Lilith chose to the bad one, Granny, by the nature of story logic, had to be the good one (even though Granny could do being bad so much better than her sister if the roles were reversed.) Her magic, headology, is where she manipulates other people with their own preconceptions, to see things the way she needs them to see it, and then reality is changed from it - and it’s also the most realistic depiction of real world magic I have ever seen.

Granny is good because she has to be. She uses questionable means, and yet, she’s really, really good, and compassionate. Many of Terry’s characters have been quoted as saying things that boil down to "goodness is in what you do." And likeable characters did good things for countless reasons, not always pristine. Despite the fact she would be better suited to being bad, and she does good out of necessity, I’d trust her with my life and I’d want to hang out with her while she basically called me stupid. (I think Terry also believed he had to be good because so many choose to be bad.)

In the Tiffany Aching series, this comes all back up and it's established that Granny prefers to let people have the choice to take their own path, then come to her once they've messed everything up and need her help to fix it, because she didn't have a choice: she had to be good and she had to make the good choices. She wants people to have choices because she didn't.

…Her sister Lilith also convinced herself she’s the good one even though she did bad deeds. (sound vaguely like someone we know? Aziraphale isn't going to end up like Lilith, though. Because despite this similarity, he's coded as one of the heroes, while Lilith was left as a vilain.)

So how do Granny and Terry define good and bad?

A conversation with with an Omnian missionary priest called Mightily Oats (Omnian is similar to Catholicsm):

"There is a very interesting debate raging at the moment on the nature of sin. for example," said Oats. "And what do they think? Against it, are they?" said Granny Weatherwax. "It's not as simple as that. It's not a black and white issue. There are so many shades of gray." "Nope." "Pardon?" "There's no grays, only white that's got grubby. I'm surprised you don't know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people like things. Including yourself. That's what sin is." "It's a lot more complicated than that--" "No. It ain't. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they're getting worried that they won't like the truth. People as things, that's where it starts." "Oh, I'm sure there are worse crimes--" "But they starts with thinking about people as things…" --from Carpe Jugulum

I've thought about the distinction between "shades of gray" and "white that's got grubby" a lot. If we look at what Terry thought of goodness (it's what you do), and the context that she's talking to a missionary in this, it appears like the point she's making is that the way Oats and his people look at shades of gray is flawed because they look at it as good reasons for doing bad things and bad reasons for doing good things, but she looks at the result: is whatever you're telling yourself allowing you to treat people as things? if yes, you're doing bad. if not, regardless of what you told yourself in order to get there, you're doing good. This is Granny's "shades of gray."

In Witches Abroad, Granny is applying story logic as magic in a very meta way. If we look at Good Omens as a story, even though Aziraphale doesn't realize it the way she does, and he's telling himself he's the good one while at times being complicit in a corrupt system and doing bad things, Aziraphale is burdened with being the "bad" one solely by design. And a bad character who makes good choices (Crowley) will always be seen in a better light than a good one who takes to sinning (Aziraphale). Aziraphale has to be the one in the darker shades of grey, while Crowley exists in the lighter, though neither recognize this in themselves. If it happened any other way, there wouldn't be a story.

"And sin, young man, is when you treat people like things."

This is what Terry Pratchett believed. Aziraphale absolutely did just this during the ball. And Neil blatantly points it out through Maggie and Nina when they confront Crowley and remind him that they're real people, with lives. That is the authors telling us that what was done to them was wrong, and Neil is drawing attention to the fact that you should find it a little upsetting. Terry often inserted morals into his stories through his characters speaking about ethics and philosophy. Maggie and Nina may as well be Terry there saying that.

And yet, Terry and Neil both loved Aziraphale. Even though he's done what is essentially the root of all sin in the most painfully literal way. (Neil did you basically write Granny's quote into Good Omens? I can't get over how obvious the parallel is now that I've seen it.)

The fact that they both love him despite him doing such a terrible thing, shows that the plans for his future development are greater than his failures.

Onto some other Discworld characters. This is mostly for flavor. Granny was the big one.

In Going Postal, Moist Von Lipwig starts off as a selfish sleazy conman. His actions prior to the main story lead to his future love interest getting fired from her job. Once you realize that, which happens after they've been aggressively flirting forever and you're incredibly invested in them getting together, and they're SO close to it, you’re like… ”oh shit…this is really, really bad. how are they ever going to get together now?” and she reacts exactly as you’d expect her to, very validly. But he completely redeems himself (I won't spoil how) in both her and the audience's eyes by the end, with grand, heartfelt gestures. Also: in the beginning of the book, before fully grasping the consequences of his actions (and falling in love), he only does things for selfish reasons, and he manipulates people. When he begins running the post office, he begins doing good while still being selfish, and by the end he isn't selfish anymore, but he has to use his old conman tricks of lying and manipulating to help fix the post office and take down the big bad.

Sam Vimes, perhaps Terry's most cherished creation, started off as a hopeless drunk cop sleeping in the gutter, and Terry took him on a trip to the stars. Every watch book jokingly ends with him getting more titles and accolades despite the fact that he already has so many, and then finally Terry was like “oh yeah now I’ve given him supernatural powers” which I find fucking hilarious, and even more hilarious because Vimes fucking hates it.

Nobby Nobs my beloved little vermin man. That's all on him.

Havelock Vetinari is a benevolent tyrant, a villain who decided it would be more interesting to make a city work properly than to simply conquer it. Even Vimes begrudgingly accepts that Vetinari has in many ways made things better for people, even minorities, and made the city work, even with things like legalized crime (in moderation, of course lol.) Vetinari also doesn’t care about poor people stealing - it’s part of the working system so it must be allowed - the problem is when the rich cheat the system. Vetinari is a dark horse and a bit complicated because he views people as chess pieces for him to place in the best spots in the city for it all to work properly…but the places he puts them (Moist the conman given a second chance as the postman instead of hanging, Vimes given countless promotions) generally leads to them growing and bettering themselves, and he seems to take enjoyment out of that aspect too.

And oh, the black ribboners. The reformed vampires. Some amazing, compassionate characters there. For instance, Otto the photographer, who transferred his obsession with blood to an obsession with capturing the perfect photograph, and who dresses in ridiculous trad vampire attire so that he looks like a complete goofball but he doesn’t scare anyone anymore and people are comfortable around him. He said it so casually to Vimes too. Looking like a joke when the joke was being played on everyone else.

Yet most of those vampires we’ve come to love were brutal murderers for maybe hundreds of years before changing, and some have only been changed for a few years. We don’t usually see that though, because by the time Sally and Maladict and Otto are in the story, they’ve renounced it and they’re doing their best to be good people. …Aziraphale, however, he’s still in the middle of this story arch, unfortunately.

The vampires still have their slip ups though. Sally sees fresh blood and then needs to bite an apple (not so bad). Maladict almost kills his love interest when someone breaks his coffee machine and he starts reverting back to his blood lust. At the last second, the crisis is averted. We still end up loving and rooting for Maladict.

And so you come to the conundrum that these hopeful stories were written by a man who was infuriated to no end by all the bullshit in the world. These funny stories with deep themes on closer inspection. Part of the reason people who are unfamiliar with Pratchett think he’s jolly. How can this be?

Let's talk about Neil Gaiman for a minute. I'm currently taking his masterclass. I'll just say one thing he's said in it which is a universal truth: stories are pretty lies delivered as the vehicles for truth. Vimes doesn’t exist, he probably can’t exist in the world as we see it today. Aziraphales who are complicit in bad systems do not often change, and most Crowley’s wouldn’t have the patience for sticking around them. Granny Weatherwax’s can’t change other people’s realities simply by believing it strongly enough and intimidating them, or we’d have so much less bigotry for starters. If I had a friend named Adora who encountered a Moist with that backstory, I’d tell her to steer clear, mostly because of his name. Impossible or unlikely situations, but if they could happen even once, maybe just maybe…

It takes people believing it could happen first, as Death once said:

Discworld recognizes itself as fantasy, but with the hope that one day fantasy can make its way into reality. Also, I’ve seen the way Terry portrays the really hopelessly selfish and complacent people, and they’re far more terrible than Aziraphale has ever been. Coded as absolute villains, while Aziraphale is being established as one of the heroes.

I want to live in a world where Granny Weatherwax’s exist and even Aziraphales. People who were selfish and foolish and harmfully complicit in a bad system, but who change, against all odds and everything we know about how people are. If “maybe some day even people like that will wake up and start to care” isn’t hopepunk, I don’t know what is. And all of Discworld and Good Omens are hopepunk.

And when Aziraphale finally reaches the end of his story, he's gonna get the loving treatment Terry has given all of his other characters, even the ones with harder redemption archs.

Some final quotes as a little send off:

"And thus we wear down mountains. Water dripping on a stone, dissolving and removing. Changing the shape of the world, one drop at a time. Water dripping on a stone, commander. Water flowing underground, bubbling up in unexpected places" --Thud

"Never promise to do the possible. Anyone could do the possible. You should promise to do the impossible, because sometimes the impossible was possible, if you could find the right way, and at least you could often extend the limits of the possible. And if you failed, well, it had been impossible.” --Going Postal

“I have no use for people who have learned the limits of the possible.” --The Last Hero

#good omens 3 #good omens #good omens speculation #good omens season 3 #good omens sequel #good omens theory #crowley #good omens analysis #aziraphale #discworld #discworld quotes #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #shades of grey

[tteokdoroki]

oblivious | k.takami

♡ pairing: keigo takami x gn!reader.

♡ word count: 1.8K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, assistant!au, fluff.

♡ summary: usually, when it comes down to smooth talking and flirting, pro hero hawks has all the boxes checked right off. except for when it comes to his assistant, who doesn’t quite seem to get it. or the one in which miruko meddles with hawks’ love life on valentines day.

♡ warning(s): please read ! tooth-rotting fluff, cheesy pick-up lines, just keigo being a dorky boi! :D

♡ author’s note(s): goood evening my loves! here’s a little fluff fic for you on valentines ! it was requested a while ago by @mocha-focha​ but i figured today would be the perfect day!  i hope youu enjoy, sorry this is so last min! happy valentines day <3

♡ masterlist | requests

keigo couldn’t tell if he found it more adorable or more annoying.

your obliviousness that is.

on one had, your cluelessness to the number two’s attraction towards you was most certainly adorable. the way you grew flustered when he walked by or leaned down to your height to tease and compliment you. the way your gaze dropped shyly to your desk when he’d ask something minuscule of you. keigo knew he intimidated you; after all, who wouldn’t be in the shoes of japan’s second most beloved hero.

the winged hero had wanted you ever since he first laid his avian eyes on you, after he’d stumbled back into his agency to complete paper work for that day’s patrol. you had been unpacking boxes at the desk outside of keigo’s office, hired to be a temporary assistant while the last had quit due to said blonde ‘being too much to handle.’

keigo still remembers the way your eyes had flittered to the floor as soon as he came into view and the timid way your name had slipped from between your pretty lips when he’d asked for your name.

the blonde swears he could never get tired of the sweet taste of ‘yn’ on his tongue.

you were nice company and worked well with keigo, since you were resilient unlike his last assistant. he couldn’t fault you anywhere, not in your kind smile and precious gestures ( you always brought him a chicken sandwich when you came back from your lunch break ). you were a gem. the only ‘annoying’ thing was that you never quite understood his flirting.

sure; some of keigo’s methods like bringing you little gifts of shiny things and rocks were a little unconventional... but he couldn’t help it! he was a goddamned bird after all and it wasn’t his fault you mistook the dead rabbit on your desk as a cruel practical joke instead of a proclamation of love. and okay, maybe keigo giving you extra work so you could spend more time with him after office hours was a little over the top; but at least his pickup lines got through to you.

they were cringeworthy of course but at the very least; they made you grin even if you were a bit confused. one time you thought he had been practicing on you to test on endeavour on their patrol later that day. another story for another time.

so maybe the most annoying thing wasn’t your obliviousness to keigo’s advances but instead the reactions and teasing from his friends. just like now.

“so what’s it gonna be today keigo?” rumi asks from the winged hero’s left, her rabbit ears twitch and pick up on his light scoff— while he mentally prepares for the incoming barrage of teasing. “’are you the alphabet because i can c u and i together?’”

“no rumi, i’ve got better than that.” keigo barks out with a shift of his crimson wings, the number five smirks from beside him and keigo rolls his eyes with defeat, hating the way his wings often conveyed his underlying emotions.  the elevator they both travel in comes to a slow stop on the thirteenth floor of the hawks agency where the man himself hosts meetings in his office. the whole reason rumi was even here was to attend some dumb mission briefing the commission wanted to set them on but more than likely the bunny like hero would be here to tease keigo about his failed attempts at flirting with you. “just you wait!”

she enjoyed making his life a living hell. “i don’t know, nothing can quite beat that ‘i’m not a photographer but i can picture you and i together’ line you used last week!” rumi winks, swiftly exciting the elevator as the doors chime and open up, just narrowly avoiding the flurry of cursing and chirps from the bird-like hero.

said  blonde follows with a huff,  making a b-line for his sacred office as he sets his mind on getting the meeting done. the sooner it ends, the sooner rumi can get the hell out of his hair and stop bullying him for having a crush on his personal assistant. only, keigo is stopped in his tracks when he notices you innocently perched at your desk, tapping away at some document on your computer—  one that he probably could’ve and should’ve done himself. hawks almost hates how he catches himself blushing over how you complete such a mundane task,  the squint to your  eyes and the slight pinch to your brows in concentration ( which is adorable to him quite frankly ) make his heart flutter.

he finds himself coming to a stop just in front of your desk, causing rumi to slow up ahead and turn around to watch the chaos unfold.

your typing ceases quickly when you notice the shadow on your boss looming over you— his gold and piercing avian eyes staring right back down at you as soon as you look up. “oh! mr hawks, you’re back—!”

“yn, i seem to have lost my number, can i borrow yours?” hawks blurts out the cheesy line, almost instantly regretting it right after.

there’s a beat of silence between you both while your face morphs into one of confusion. why would he need to borrow your number when you could just locate it in the personal records you had access to? in the meantime, miruko has taken it upon herself to fill the awkward air with pockets of wheezy laughter. you blink up at your boss, once, twice, three times before reaching for your notebook with all of his important details written inside. “mr hawks, if you wanted me to read your number out loud for you again , you could have asked! i'm more than happy to!” you say your words slowly, just to make sure he understands— your boss can be a bit of an air head sometimes and it is your job to help him out.

“no—yn, no i—” keigo instantly shakes his head, the red tint of shame blaring across his cheeks in a shade that almost rivals the red of his wings. said appendages puff up and flutter with embarrassment and it doesn’t help that his fellow hero is laughing at him so hard that she’s bent over and struggling to breathe. “baby—i meant i was asking for your numb—“

you smile up at him with sweet innocent eyes that have his words dying in his throat. “i didn’t know you had a baby! congratulations mr hawks!” and then you return to typing.

keigo wants to die, physically deflating right in front of your desk where he stands.

rumi, who now seems to have recovered from her laughing fit passes by keigo with a pat to his back, he only pouts while she wipes the remainders of amused tears from her eyes before perching herself on your desk, practically leaning over you. you look up once again, feeling shy under the gaze of yet another esteemed pro hero but greet her politely with a bob of your head.

“yn, hun, can i ask you a question?” the number five asks you, warm grin helping you relax just a little.

“yes miss miruko?”

you find the woman shaking with laughter above you before she pets your hair endearingly, the gesture almost makes you pout and you have to remind yourself of where you are and who you work for. “firstly, love, you can call me rumi, i know you’re shy but i don’t bite…” you paw gently at your cheeks in oder to fight the growing heat that burns brightly under your skin, growing ever so flustered under miruko’s silky voice and knowing gaze. “secondly, hawks isn’t a father nor does he have a baby— he was addressing you, sweetheart. and finally,” rumi pauses, patting your head again as her bunny ears twitch with amusement and mischief. “how do you feel about the bird brains over there, do you like him?”

takami jolts up in his place, impossibly redder than he was before while he makes an attempt to shut rumi up with his ruffled feathers. the bunny simply catches the red feather between her hands, giving them a little tickle to distract her fellow hero , tilting her head down at you as if to ask ‘well?’ you gulp, feeling yourself become nervous as the two wait for your answer expectantly. of course you had nothing but positive feelings towards your boss; he was kind and made the time out of his busy day to talk to you— but why did they care so much as to ask you for your opinion? you were only his assistant and saying anything bad about the number two hero would surely get you fired.

hesitantly, your gaze flickers between the clearly entertained miruko and the highly embarrassed hawks— forcing you to take a deep breath before delivering your anticipated answer. “well—! he’s a great boss, i— i couldn’t ask for better, why wouldn’t i like a boss who gives me an hour and a half’s lunch break?” you sigh in relief at your answer, assuring yourself that it won’t have offended anyone but your heart rate is quick to spike when miruko squishes your cheeks and tilts your head to face your flustered boss.

“no sweetheart,” she corrects herself, pointing over at keigo who cowers into his wings. “i mean, do you like him as in... would you date him?”

you swear on all might’s life that you almost pass out from her words, mind swirling with a thousand thoughts. why would she ask that of you? sparing a glance at your boss once move, you realise what all of this is about. his hot blush, the way he avoids your stare, his flustered state to match your own. he likes you, just as you like him. rumi was only being a good wing woman, one that you were grateful for— as you’d never make a move on hawks on your own, no matter how many feelings you’d harboured for him in the time that you’d worked for him. You had been oblivious to his romantic gestures this whole time and now; the situation for you to confess had presented itself to you.

to hell with it.

“yes,” you breathe as best you can through squished cheeks, staring at keigo with eyes dreamy enough to make his heart soar. “why wouldn’t anyone? i-i mean, mr hawks is so sweet and kind to everyone he meets, fans or not! and…and he’s really pretty— i mean handsome… and his eyes—“ you cut yourself off upon realising the tangent you’ve gone on just to prove your attraction to your boss, looking away shyly and rumi let’s you go with a sweet chuckle.

but just as quickly as you look away, the softness of a little red feather tilts your focus back to him. “glad to know you think so yn,” he winks, making you giggle shyly. “i’ll pick you up tonight at seven for valentines, then.”

and who were you to say no to him.

#tteokdoroki #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha fanfic #bnha fluff #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #mha imagines #mha fanfic #mha fluff #mha smut #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks smut #hawks fluff #hawks imagines #hawks fanfic #hawks angst #hawks headcanons #hawks fic #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami imagine #keigo takami fluff #keigo takami smut

[libraryofloveletters]

The Parent Trap

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of war, death and loss of parent/spouse

Category: Fluff 

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Based on this request!

Part 2- The Mistletoe Proposal

--- 

Emily, your daughter, sat beside a little boy on the playground bench while the other kids ran around in the sun waiting for their parents. “Hey” you smiled at the kids on the bench, you sat beside your daughter, she gave you a half hug. “Mom, this is Christopher, he’s my friend. He’s in my class and he likes to paint just like me!” she gushed, looking over at the little boy who had a smile on his face. 

“Hi Christopher, I'm y/n. It’s nice to meet you” you leaned forward so he could see you. He gave you a big smile, the two children told you about their day at school, how they learned about amphibians and reptiles, their teacher showed them a video about frogs. 

“Christopher, are you waiting for someone sweetheart ?” 

“My dad” he looked over at you

“Chris, buddy!” a man’s voice shouted, looking over your shoulder you saw a man running towards you guys. 

“Dad!” the little boy shouted back as he stood up, you helped him with his crutches as his father came over. “Hi bud” the man picked him up whilst he hugged him. The back of his t-shirt read “Los Angeles Fire Department” 

“Dad, this is Emily my friend” Emily stood up, “Hi Chris's dad” she gave him a toothy grin, she was missing a few teeth. The man chuckled as he put Christopher down, “Hi Emily, I'm Eddie” he stuck his hand out, she gave him a high five which made him smile at her. 

The interaction made your heart swell, he was good with kids. 

“You are?” he looked at you, “I'm y/n, Emily’s mom” you smiled at him, he gave you a nod. 

“Mommy?” Emily tugged on your hand, “yeah love bug?” 

“Can Chris come over for a playdate now?” 

“Oh baby,” you glance at Eddie, “I don’t know. Maybe Chris and his dad have somewhere to be” 

“We don’t,” Christopher answers for his father, “can I go dad? please?” the boy looks up at him. Eddie was a sucker for his son clearly, anyone that looked at them could see how much he loved him, he’d do anything to keep him happy. 

“Uh- okay yeah. That’s fine” Eddie gave in, just as you suspected. “Christopher come in!” your daughter walked up with Christopher, you watched them with a smile on your face, you and Eddie following behind them.

“Hey, sorry about them ambushing you like that. If you have somewhere to be, we can reschedule ?” you offered, you didn't want him to feel pressured just because the kids wanted to hang out. 

“Nah it’s cool, we were just going to go home and play video games or something” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, “I'm sure he rather the company than a lame afternoon at home with dad” his comment made you smile. “Em! Wait up!” you jogged to catch up to the kids, Eddie followed behind you. 

“Uh let me give you the address” you turned to Eddie, “oh that’s cool, I'll just follow behind you.” he said nonchalantly. 

“I didn't drive today” 

“Oh,” he paused for a moment, “how about you guys come with us and you can direct me? Maybe we can stop for pizza or something ?” he looks down at the kids, “how does that sound?” he asks them, a loud mess of “yes” and excited shouting filled your ears, Eddie led the 3 of you over to this truck. He lifted Christopher into the truck and proceeded to do the same with Emily. “Cool necklace!” she picked up the pendant on his neck, he smiled at her “Emily!” you gave her a look, Eddie shook his head. “It’s cool isn't it ? it’s my Saint Christoper’s pendant” 

“Like Christopher ?” she asked him, still fiddling with the pendant. 

“Yeah, just like Christopher” 

Eddie got in the truck, he drove to the pizza place down the road from the school. Eddie asked the kids what they wanted, they both wanted the same thing but kept changing their minds each time they decided. “How about I get both and you choose when we get home?” he offered the kids, they nodded. 

Home. The idea of a home with Eddie flicker through your mind monetarily, you shook the idea from your head. You had only just met this man, what's wrong with you. 

“Oh wait!” you were digging through your pocket, Eddie’s eyes practically burning a hole into you. 

Pulling some cash from your pocket, “here, for the food” Eddie refused to take it from you. 

“I got it, don’t worry about it” he said as he opened the door. 

“It’s a lot” you went to give him the cash again, he rested his hand on yours. “Next time, this time is on me” he smiled. Eddie left you and the kids in the car. You looked over at the backseat, Chris and Emily were whispering about something but a phone rang, interrupting their conversation. “It’s your dad’s phone kiddo” you looked at Chris and then at the phone, “it says it’s Buck, do you want to answer it ?” Chris nodded. He answered once you passed him the phone, he had it on speaker. 

“Eddie! are we on for tonight ?” the man shouted from the other end of the call. “Buck!” Chris laughed. “Christopher! Hey buddy, where’s your dad?” 

“Inside” 

“And where are you ?” 

“In the car” 

“By yourself?” you could hear the panic in his voice, you spoke up. 

“Hi, I'm y/n, I'm Emily’s mom uh- she’s friends with Christoper. They’re having a playdate. Eddie is inside getting pizza, he’ll be back in a few” you explain, the line goes silent for a moment. “Oh, okay. Can you tell Eddie to call me back ?” 

“Sure” you say, “bye Buck!” Christoper says which made the man chuckle, “bye buddy, have fun at your playdate” 

Christopher handed the phone back to you as Eddie came back to the truck. “There’s my phone, I thought I left it at the station” he said, getting in. “Oh no, your friend called, Christoper answered” 

“Who was it?” he looked back at his son 

“Buck” he smiled at his dad, Eddie smiled back at him, “He asked for you to call him back ?” 

“Thanks” was all he said as he started driving. You directed him to your house, which was the opposite direction of the pizza place. “The one with the red door,” you pointed at house number 56, “that one” Eddie pulled into your driveway. Once again, he helped the kids get out of the truck, you turned to the kids, “do you want to eat inside or outside ?” you asked, they looked at each other, “outside!” they simultaneously shouted. Unlocking the front door, the kids walked in, Emily led him to the backdoor and made their way outside. 

“Plates?” Eddie asked, you turned your attention to the fridge. “Uh cupboard to the left of the fridge” you leaned over into the fridge, reaching for the lemonade. “Wait does he drink lemonade- oh sorry!” You bumped into Eddie, his arm reaching for your arm to steady you. 

“It’s okay, yeah he does” Eddie smiled, leaving you in the house as he went out to see the kids. Hands on the counter, you steadied your breathing for a moment, you were basically pressed up against your daughter’s friend’s ridiculously hot father. Pouring the lemonade into the glasses, you take a moment before going to pick up the glasses, right as you reach for them, Eddie’s hand touches yours, startling you. “Holy shit!” your hand clutches at your chest, Eddie has a slight red tint on his cheeks, you couldn’t tell if it was a blush or from the heat. “I’m sorry” he said, giving your shoulder a squeeze before getting the glasses. “I don’t mean to keep scaring you like that” “Oh, no worries. Just been a little jumpy lately” following him out the backdoor.

--

Christopher and Emily sat in the shade and were painting something on the two giant tablecloths you had given them. “Why tablecloths?” Eddie glanced at you, then turning his attention back to the children. He sat beside you on the porch swing you had outside. “It’s big enough for them to express all their idea without having to squish them into one tiny piece of paper, plus you can use it as a tablecloth afterwards,” you laughed “you couldn't imagine how excited they are when they see it on the table” Eddie nodded, smiling at his son who was covered in paint beside a paint covered Emily. 

“We should get going soon, I'm sure your husband-” you looked at him as he paused mid-sentence, “or wife, will be home soon” his comment earned a loud cackle from you, a hand covering your mouth. “Oh god no,” you hand rested on his arm, “there’s no husband or wife in the picture, just me and love bug” 

“Oh sorry, I just assumed you were married” 

“No worries, I'm sure the missus or mister is waiting for you at home too” 

Eddie shook his head, “Christopher’s mom, my wife- my ex I guess, she passed last year” he said quietly, his eyes fixated on the little boy sitting in the grass. The smile faded from your face, “Eddie, I'm so sorry” you whispered. Emily’s father was never in the picture, the two of you never had to experience that type of loss or hurt. You couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like for Eddie to lose his wife, for Christopher to lose his mom. “It’s okay. Truthfully, she had just come back into our lives. Christoper was really enjoying his time with her, so was I” his voice wavered for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“What about you ? Where’s Emily’s dad ?” he turned to you, clearly wanting to get the topic off of her, you indulged his questions.

 “Hooked up with Emily’s dad at a college party, found out I was pregnant with her a few weeks later. I told him, he said he didn't want anything to do with “that thing”” you used air quotes with the last part, 

“I'm sorry, he sounds like an ass. No offence” Eddie looked at you making you laugh. 

“None taken, I regret him with my whole being but I never regretted having her. She’s my best friend” you looked over at your daughter.

“I wasn't here for the first few years of Christopher’s life, I was in Afghanistan. I would tell myself that I'm doing it for him but honestly, I regret that. I missed all his firsts, the first steps, the first words... I know I'm here now but I can’t help but think what if I didn't make it home ? What would have happened?” you rested your hand on Eddie’s hand, “hey, you can’t think like that. Yeah, it sucks you missed the firsts but think about how many more there are. The first day of high school, first date, first car, first graduation, first time picking him up from a party” you smiled, giving his hand a little squeeze. 

The sky was now a reddish orange colour, it was around 8pm and you hadn’t realized how much time had gone by. “Alright kids, let’s see those paintings” you walked over to look at the paintings, “Eddie, I think we have two future artists here” he walked over too, he smiled at the kids and their paintings. “Y/n, I think you’re right. but buddy, we gotta get home” he helped Chris up, Emily tugged herself up by clinging to your leg, “you good there bug ?” your hand rested atop her head. “Mommy?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can Chris and his dad stay for dinner?” Your daughter leaned from behind your leg and gave Chris a thumbs up which he returned. “What are you two up to ?” you asked her, 

“Nothing! Can they stay ? pleaseeee” she begged you, you glanced at the boy and his father. 

“Bubba, I don't know. I’m sure Eddie’s got work in the morning, you and Chris both have school. They probably want to get home” 

“Actually,” Eddie turned to you, “if it’s okay with you, I don't mind staying” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure Chris would like that too” You nodded, Eddie picked up Christoper with one arm and came over to pick up Emily with the other. Once again, your heart swells at the sight of this man and the children. 

-- 

Dinner was quiet, it was nice having a full table for once, normally it was just the two of you. “How was school guys?” Eddie asks the kids at the table, you were in the kitchen putting away the leftovers. “We painted frogs and saw a video about them” Christopher told him, Emily adding on to his statement. 

“Our teacher said she went on a date last night” she and Christopher giggled. 

“Did she?” Eddie chuckled, humouring the children. 

“I think you should go on a date with Emily’s mom” Christoper says to his father, you can hear Eddie cough after almost choking on his soda.

“I promise she’s nice” your daughter says, you hold back a laugh from the kitchen. 

“Why do you guys go watch some tv? I’ll take these to the kitchen” the sound of clattering dishes and little feet was the sound that filled the house for the next few moments. 

Eddie rests the plates in the sink and turns on the tap. “I got it, don’t worry” you tell him, he shakes his head. “Please, you made dinner and let us hang out here all afternoon, the least I can do is wash the dishes” 

“So, that was an interesting conversation y'all were having” you smile at him, again, that slight red tint popped back up on his face. “you heard that ?” his eyes on the sink, “yeah, I promise I am nice but I had no idea they were going to try and set us up” you laughed, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. Eddie let out a laugh too, “yeah, that was uh- a little- it definitely caught me off guard” he turned to you. 

The time was now 10:30, “I think it’s time we get home” Eddie said, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. “Yeah, it’s pretty late” you watch as Eddie walks to the living room to get Christoper. A few moments later, Chris comes into the kitchen, you walk over and kneel down so the two of you are face to face. 

“Thank you for letting me hang out and have dinner here” he says sweetly, you give him a smile. “You’re welcome my love, you’re welcome to come over anytime you’d like” Christopher gives you a hug which you return. You walk in back to the living room where you find a scene similar to the one you just had wth Christopher. Emily sat beside Eddie on the couch, her little arms wrapped around his neck, “think about it ?” she asked him, sticking her pinky out to him. He laughed and nodded, “I will” he linked his pinky with hers. “Ready to go home bud ?” Eddie asked his son who nodded, Christopher said goodbye to Emily before they made their way over to the door. Emily had already ran off to go get ready for bed leaving you at the door as Eddie helped Chris in the truck. You stepped out onto the porch, Eddie was halfway between the truck and your front door. 

“Thank you for having us over today” 

“Thank you for coming, it was nice to have a full house” 

Eddie turned on his heels and headed to the truck, he stopped and turned back towards you. “I really enjoyed this, maybe we could have a playdate of our own sometime?” your brows furrowed at his comment. 

Was he suggesting that you get together and play with toys or play with something else.. 

Eddie senses your confusion, “oh god, I didn't mean, sorry uh-” he let out an awkward chuckle, “I meant maybe we could go out sometime ? together but without the kids ?” he made his way over to you. 

“Are you asking me on a date or a playdate ?” you tease him, you bit your lip, holding back a smile. Eddie rolled his eyes playfully, “a date y/n, I'd like to go on a date with you” 

“I’d like that Eddie” 

Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek, “goodnight y/n”

“Goodnight Eddie” 

--

taglist: @ssa-volturi​ @advicefromnixxxx​

#eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz oneshot #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz fan fic #eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz fic #christopher diaz #911 #911onfox #911 fic #911 fanfic #911 imagine #911 oneshot #9-1-1 #9-1-1 oneshot #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 reader insert #9-1-1 imagine #9-1-1 on fox #9-1-1onfox

[squishneedsahero]

The Comfort of A Mother

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 11 of 13

Word Count: 1558

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

As soon as you and your family arrived back home Bruce dove head first into this case, sometimes going for a few days without talking to you more than once or twice. This was usually how things went when there was something big going on, and normally you'd make him pay attention to you at least one every few days. But this case felt different, you felt like he needed this time to work on this one. On top of that you were in the middle of editing another book you'd written so you were able to do something to keep yourself from feeling completely ignored.

It was for weeks on end that life went on like this, and you let it go on for a while, until you had almost finished with editing and noticed that it had been more than a few nights in a row that you had fallen asleep and woken up in bed alone. So tonight after three nights of sleeping alone, it reaches midnight and you make your way down to the cave, knowing your husband had been coming back for Damian to be able to get a reasonable amount of sleep because he had school on the morning, and you wait for him. When they finally arrive back home you're waiting for them, in your pajamas, leaning against the desk of the computer. You had already sent Tim up to bed and volunteered to take over while he got some sleep.

When they get home you give Damian a soft smile as you say, "Sleep well."

He nods in reply and makes his way to change before heading upstairs.

After he's gone you turn to face Bruce, "So, are you going to come to bed dressed like that, or would you like to change?" You cross your arms and give him a look to let him know you're serious about this. "Because as your wife I demand at least 16 hours of your full undivided attention, because it's been weeks."

"Alright, dear," with that he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to your bedroom, still fully dressed as Batman. Once you both make it upstairs he goes and changes into sweatpants and no shirt before coming and lying next to you where he sat you on the bed.

You can tell that he's tired since after he lies down he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms and legs around you protectively and doesn't even say anything to you. "I love you," you state and give him a kiss before snuggling fully into him.

--^--^--

You wake up to Bruce running his hand through your hair, and you open your eyes to see his face in front of yours. "Hi, handsome," you say tiredly.

He smiles softly and gives you a kiss, "good morning beautiful."

You smile and roll over so you're lying on top of him, and glance at the clock. "Well, it looks like I still get another four hours of your attention." With that you look back at him and kiss him deeply, and her slides his hands up your shirt against your back, holding you as close as possible, just wanting to feel your body.

--^--^--

A few hours later as you're lying against his side and tracing your fingers on his chest, he says, "Honey, there's something I need to tell you."

You tilt your head just enough to look at his face, "yeah?"

"The first night I didn't come to bed. It was because we were finally able to track down the Redhood. And, well, I'm not sure how to say this any better, The Redhood is Jason. Jason is alive."

You can hardly believe what it is he's telling you, you're just frozen there staring at him until finally you get yourself to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, thats why I've waited this long to tell you. I needed to be sure for you."

Tears form in your eyes, as you look at your husband. He was serious very often but you had rarely ever seen him this serious, the last time you'd seen this look on his face was as he said 'I do'. He kisses you gently, and you can hardly believe it, your baby who you thought you had lost for these few long years was alive. "Why, do I feel like there is something to this you haven't told me? There has to be a reason he hasn't come here."

"There is... I don't know yet how he came back but he did. He's still recovering his memory. And, he's not the same as he was when we lost him, he's killing people... and I confronted him about it," he looks almost ashamed as he says the last part.

"So, now he's mad at you?" you guess, and his slight nod is enough of an answer for you. "Thats alright, we just need patience. You saw what it took for Damian to even come this far, for Dick to finally come back to us. We'll figure it out, him being alive just means we have that chance again," with that you kiss him to let him know you're serious.

--^--^--

You and Bruce had been invited to the policeman's ball for the GCPD and Bruce wasn't able to come so you had gone for the both of you, ugh. The ball was over so you were heading out to your car that was in the parking garage. As you're walking you keep thinking you hear another set of footsteps. They're subtle and anyone who wasn't married to the most paranoid man in the world wouldn't think it was anything, but you did. You kept walking confidently, trying to figure out where it was they were coming from, since there was no one else out here right now since you were leaving early.

As you get to your car the lights in that part of the garage go out. You freeze not moving to unlock your car, just waiting for whoever it was that had been following you to make the first move. You might be wearing a fancy dress and be in heels but that doesn't mean you can't kick ass if you need too. The first move you make is pulling your heels off, giving yourself a weapon, and making it easier in case you needed to run.

Theres a shuffle behind you and you spin around, only to be facing who you could only assume was Redhood, judging by his choice of headgear. You stay still, waiting for him to make the first move, praying that if it really was Jason he'd say something. Slowly he raises his hands, showing they're empty, and removes his helmet, and a mask from under that. Your breath hitches when you see him, he was older, he looked tired, but there was no mistaking him, "Jason," it comes out barely audible.

"Hi, Mama," thats it. That's all he says.

You pause for a split second before dropping your shoes, and taking a step towards him, holding your arms open, asking if it's alright for you to hug him. He closes the rest of the gap as soon as he sees that. And as soon as he's in your arms thats when you break, thats when you start to sob. You both stand there hugging each other tightly, and as you do you can feel him shaking slightly, but you don't say anything, knowing he just needs to let it out.

Eventually both of you pull away slightly, and you look up at him, he'd gotten so tall, but that doesn't stop you from giving him a motherly kiss on the forehead and holding his cheeks so you can look in his eyes. "Can I ask what happened, or not right now?" You ask this quietly as you look at his eyes, they aren't blue anymore they're an eerie shade of green, and they look hurt, he has this deep pain behind them that isn't just going to go away over night.

"Not right now, please, I just wanted to see you."

"Thats alright, my Jay-bear."

He seems a little startled by the nickname, it had been years since you'd called him that, since anyone had.

"What?" You say raising an eyebrow, "you know you'll always be my little Jay-bear even if you are taller than me now. Is it alright if I tell Bruce I saw you, or would you rather I didn't?" You ask this without explaining why you'd even wonder this.

A small smile comes to his face and he hugs you tightly once again. "You can, it'll be better than him figuring it out himself," a pause before letting go, "I should probably get going... I'll see you around though right ma?"

"Of course you will, my phone number hasn't changed it you need anything. And I can keep a secret at least for a while, so don't go sending me your address, but if you tell me when and where we can meet up." With that you hug him one last time and watch as he puts his mask and helmet back on and he makes sure you get into your car safely and as you head home he heads off into the night.

#Batman #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #batman x batmom #batman x batmom!reader #batfam #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n

[floraone]

To everyone who was hurt by my author's note in puppeteer:

Please know I was throwing shade on a TROPE and NOT the people who enjoy the trope or write it. Fanfiction is free and as I've written and celebrated in many many blog posts in the past- writing something that is objectively problematic in real life, as long as it's consumed by people who are adults and can reflect on it, can be even super therapeutic to write out noncon to your heart's desire as long as it's all tagged and everyone can consume it in an informed way. I have never been about censure.

Me writing a detox version (and I am using the term from other fandoms to mean "consent-flipped" just like fandom has terms like genderswap to mark what's happening, like I've also done in Seduction before this) does not mean anyone else can't or shouldn't write the original version of the trope when it floats their boat. I never meant to imply that, I never even THOUGHT it, and I am sorry that people could read it out from my message. I've since gone over the author's note and removed anything that I thought could be inferred to mean anything other but the trope itself. Please know I haven't even been reading the stories in question in a long time. A few of my first fics I read in this fandom when I was 14 waybackwhen in the early days of the Internet were evilendy rape fests and it has put me off reading the trope ever since, me personally, and this is what I was addressing. It's a hard trope to bake consent into, and I'm trying to tackle it. This is all I intended and I am sorry some of you took it personally.

But also please don't put words in my mouth. Me saying in my author's note that I want to not write sexually abusive elements is not the same as me saying this content is not allowed and no one should write it.

Thank you very much to the person who has written me politely to address my transgression with me in a conversation instead of calling me names on anon.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Alone Together 1 Year Anniversary

I’m a little bit late, but its officially been 1 year since I began writing Alone Together. It’s been a wild ride and honestly? I wouldn't be here without you guys. This project has really transformed my whole view on writing and with your help, has made me a more confident author and for that, I am so very very grateful. I love all you guys so much and hope this next year of writing has just as many twists and turns and emotional conversations as the last one!

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to finish chapter 8 to celebrate. However, here is a preview of what’s to come in the next chapter!

There are sounds that Four has come to dread.

Some, Four resents for practical reasons: The sharp and resonant ting that white-hot metal sometimes makes as it enters the quench, as much felt in his gloved hands as heard over the hiss and spit of oil. It is the tinny sound of microcracks ringing into existence, fissures forming as the pressure of hot hammer hammer hammer hammer hot cold becomes too much for the worked steel.

It's a horrible little sound, really. Almost pathetic if it weren't so devastating.

Hours of work gone and shattered not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Other sounds Four dislikes for more personal, but no less rational reasons.

The ringing of Hyrule Castle’s clock tower still sets his teeth on edge even all these years later, his stomach dropping down to his boots as the sound of the third bell tolls through his bones.

Gale force winds clattering at the slats of his windows still causes him to flinch, though not hard.

He had conquered the wind before– twice before, if anyone was keeping count. Which he is– but he can't stop the knee jerk reaction to it regardless.

Voices dropping down to whispers as he turns a corner still causes him to collapse a little into himself. Forces him to make himself even smaller than he already is. Like if he just kept his head down and hood up, hunched his shoulders a little higher, walked a little faster, he could become unintrusive enough to not to cause a marked difference in the volume of Hyrule Town just by buying carrots.

...

Like he said. Rational reactions to… personal aversions.

But then there are sounds that part of Four knows with utmost certainty that he has no reason to fear. Childish little things that set his blood pumping, his lungs stuttering, his stomach plummeting. Dumb little irrational nothings that he knows, he knows, shouldnt have an effect on him.

And yet…

Well, that's just it, isn't it?

And yet, at night, when the coyotes send their giggling screams of joy to the moon, despite being surrounded by the walls of his house or by the sleeping bodies of his fellow heroes, Four feels ice drip into his blood and his stomach fill with stones, like he’s the helpless little thing being chased.

And yet, there is something in an echo that eats at him. That steals the breath from his lungs at just how lonely it sounds. Truly and utterly alone, with nothing better to do than parrot back words stolen from someone else’s throat.

And yet the clap of shattering glass feels like taking a stone to the head, wiping away all logical thought in a singular spike of pain. It makes him whirl around, desperately searching for the source of the noise. And only then, when he sees that it's a dropped teacup or an incident with a ball and a window… only then does his body and mind let itself uncurl.

And yet–

“Four.”

The smallest hero feels the flinch roll through his shoulders before he can stop it. It rolls through him despite himself. Despite knowing this was coming. Despite the fact that he had been preparing himself for it for days, knowing it was coming once they had enough time to rest after the battle with the Hinox.

In his hands, the whetstone he was carefully gliding across the Four Sword whines to an abrupt halt as he turns to address the older hero.

From above, Time sends him what Four suspects is supposed to be a placating smile but which looks most like an uncomfortable twitch of the lips.

Regardless, it doesn't help. It looks too… comforting for the conversation they're about to have. Too nice. Too soft. Something to lessen a blow before it’s even thrown.

Because it is going to be thrown.

“Would you help me gather some firewood?”

It’s framed as a question.

Four knows it isn’t one.

So he nods. Puts his whetstone back in his bag. Sheathes the Four Sword, takes comfort in it’s weight against his back when he straps it there. And then he takes Time’s outstretched hand, allowing the older to help him up.

Without another word, Time turns and begins to lead the way out of the clearing they’ve set up camp in and into the shade of the forest.

Four glances back at the others.

They look… Well, the smithy would never use the word peaceful to describe his fellow heroes. Hyrule is sat under the shade of a tree, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, and breaths even as he meditates. Beside him, Legend holds a needle and thread poised to begin mending a tunic.

Or, at least, he would be if he weren’t pointing the needle threateningly at Wind, who dangles from the branches of the tree they’re sitting under, holding what looks to be a bottle of chu chu jelly over Hyrule’s head, smirking as he prepares to pull the cork.

A little farther away, Warriors and Sky seem to be engaged in a heated argument regarding birds of all things.

Both had been the most heavily injured after their fight against the Hinox– Sky had managed to dislocate both shoulders by desperately clinging to the Master Sword embedded in the beast’s forearm even when the monster viciously tried to dislodge him while Warriors had suffered a broken femur thanks to an entire tree being thrown at him, Hylia, Wild’s monsters were really something.

Thus, even after a round of potions and some of Hyrule’s rosie, crystalline magic, the two were sat up in their bedrolls, wrapped in restrictive bandaging and forbidden from helping set up camp, apparently leading to the two having nothing better to do than argue about whether or not cuccos were “a blight upon all of Hyrule,” as Warriors was emphatically arguing.

Beside the bickering heroes, Wild and Twilight are attending to dinner, the two chatting as they chop and toss vegetables into a pot of bubbling stew. It must be going fairly well– and it always does with Wild at the helm– because the mouthwatering smell of cooking onions, garlic, and celery permeates the clearing.

Wild glances up midway through a laugh, and locks eyes with Four. In a second, the humor falls off the other’s face, his eyes flicking quickly between the smithy and the retreating back of Time in question.

Need help? His eyes seem to ask.

And though the other had promised to be with him, to help him with this conversation when it happened, Four slowly and deliberately shakes his head.

Wild has helped him enough. Has helped him run through what he wants to say. What he needs to say. To defend himself. Or, at least, help Time understand his point of view.

And as much as he would love for Wild to be here, to see him use what the other had taught him… something tells the smithy he should do this alone.

Or, at least, as alone as he ever is.

So he flashes Wild a grin that he hopes is more placating than Time’s and turns back toward the forest. He takes a deep breath. Lets it fill his lungs to bursting. Lets it buoy him up. Lets it raise his shoulders from their hunch and straighten his spine.

Well this should be fun Don’t say that We’ve practiced for this Remain calm Here we go

He lets the breath rush out from between his lips in a woosh, forcing himself to relax. To calm his beating heart, the whirlpool of emotion in his stomach, the itch in his scalp, the urge in his lungs to breathe faster.

With hands more shaky than he’d like, Four adjusts his headband, tightening it to the edge of discomfort.

It’s irrational to be afraid of Time.

Four knows that.

And yet, as he squares his shoulders and strides into the dark after the older hero, Four can't help but feel the twinge of fear that nestles itself deep into his chest, watching, waiting, listening, for the perfect moment to go for the throat.

#Alone Together #lu alone together #lu four #lu time #they're gunna have #A Talk TM #OOF #happy 1 year guys #love all of you #gunna try to get to all the comments before I post the next chapter #which *hopefully* will come out next week #we'll see #thank you again for all the support #like actually you guys blow my mind #like #I didn't think anyone would like my ramblings #so thank you for everything #love you guys <3 #train writes

[soukokuwu]

what if chu's s/o escapes port mafia, leaving chuuya to think she left him like dazai did (but in reality, she was pregnant & didn't want the child to grow up in PM. though she has taken extra measures so her son will not be endangered, PM still managed to kidnap him and hold him hostage in exchange for her to come back to their ranks. it is when she comes to save their son that chu discovers that the child is his. you do your own take if you want, your writing, your choice! 💓💓

HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARDS.      genre. hmmm,, i guess it’s fluffy      synopsis. you reveal a secret you’ve kept to yourself for so long, it’s time you finally come clean.      word count. 2,680      author notes. hi, thank you this was an interesting request, i tried not to make it too long. & i usually don’t put so much dialogue (if at all XD) so i hope you can still enjoy this <33

PRESENT.

“Boss, the VIPs are here to see you, they’re being held down at the lobby. Do you want to send them up here?”

The chair swirls around, revealing the man behind the table, a picture of perfect composure. A curt nod is all it takes for the goon to leave the room, ready to escort the guests up.

Once the doors are closed again, he puts the cigarette out on his ashtray, exhaling that last puff of smoke. Gloved fingers intertwine together as he ponders long and hard about how he should greet them later.

The man eyes the drawer under his table, the bottom leftmost one — the special drawer. He opens it languidly to unveil a stash of letters, too many to count at one glance. That’s not surprising though. After all, it’s twelve years’ worth of letters. He grabs the top one, beady eyes glossing over its contents. He folds it back along the same lines.

They all look the same. Made out to him, but with no return address.

TWELVE YEARS AGO.

“They found someone at the house. We have him right now.”

The man on the other line seems to still have something to say, but the redhead doesn’t allow him. It’s a matter that can’t wait.

“Keep him there, make sure he doesn’t leave.”

Chuuya leaves the rest of the torturing to his colleagues as he exits the premises. He recalls what his subordinate reported earlier. ‘Him’? He scoffs. It’s been six years since you left the mafia and basically vanished into thin air. Which is a considerably long time, but Chuuya still can’t wrap the possibility around there being a new guy in your life.

Besides, the redhead didn’t do anything wrong. Why did you have to leave without a word? Why did you feel the need to leave at all, even? It couldn’t be stress. No way. You worked at the Port Mafia casino, yes. You were in charge of it all, and it did anything but stress you out. You loved working there. You loved the gamble. You absolutely revelled in the risk.

They put you in charge of the casino for more reasons than one. You were very calculative, very meticulous. You always had your moves planned out beforehand and you were always able to tell your opponents’ hand without even having to cheat. The gambling was definitely one of the reasons why you were so good at manipulating people. It was also one of the reasons why even Mori asked for your help in some cases.

But your best quality as a mafioso?

Your unpredictability. Or, as Mori dubbed it, your insanity. In both gambling and in general. You had helped the mafia win favours over more than just a few officials by winning against them — be it in poker or any other games. You weren’t even below playing russian roulette. Sure, Chuuya had been worried at first, but after a while it was pretty clear you’d always make it out of it safe — was it luck or was it pure calculation, or a mixture of both perhaps? Chuuya doesn’t really question it. And when it came to planning missions, your unconventional methods always helped, because no one would ever see it coming.

That blew up in his face though. You left him without any clues pertaining to your whereabouts or why you left in the first place. He thought you left along with his ex-partner, that maybe it had something to do with him. But it was apparent that wasn’t the case. Not when you didn’t surface at all even when Dazai did. He couldn’t help but keep thinking of potential things that happened to you. Did you leave because you met someone else? Doubtful. But given how long it’s been, it’s certainly not out of the question that you already did meet someone else by now.

You’re beautiful, smart, fun. You’re everything anyone could wish for. You’re so understanding that sometimes Chuuya questions where you get your patience from. You were just perfect, in every sense of the word.

Chuuya groans just thinking of everything. Even after being kicked to the curb, why is it that now he is still attracted to you? Lucky he was, though. Because that’s the only reason he agreed with Mori’s plan to put all efforts into seeking you out. You were incredibly elusive, and a pain in the ass because of that. And had it not been for a certain intense war against an enemy organisation, they would’ve let you go on with your life, wherever you ended up. You’ve been very quiet, not spreading anything about the mafia, or else Mori would’ve picked up on it. Very well-behaved, and a pardon would’ve been your reward.

But even the best needs help sometimes. And Mori specifically wants yours. He probably figured Chuuya was the biggest factor that would tilt things in their favour, and he agrees. Which is why he heads this mission in the first place. Not only is he the biggest shot at getting you back, but he wants to see you. Wants to know exactly why you left him the way you did.

Closure. He wants closure.

Life is funny though. Because he ends up with more questions than answers when he opens the door to his office.

Suddenly all the idle chatter he passes by in the hallway makes sense. The ones that just skip past his ears because he’s too deep in thought about you. He remembers the gist of them though. Things like “he’s so cute, like a model,” and “right? I think he looks handsome” (to which Chuuya was slightly annoyed by because he thought it was referring to your new beau).

But no, he wasn’t greeted with a man. He opened his doors to find a boy with eyes as blue as the ocean sitting on his desk, fiddling with his pens. Eyes that remind him of the exact shade he looks at in the mirror everyday. Chuuya hurriedly shuts the door, locks it, and steps hesitantly toward the boy.

This boy… looks roughly about six years old. And Chuuya feels his breath hitching in his throat. That’s around the time you went missing. He feels everything closing in around him, the fear of why you left him finally being made clear to him.

Weirdly enough, the boy isn’t the tiniest bit scared. His head is tilted, fingers still fiddling with Chuuya’s fountain pen, and waiting for Chuuya to reach him. He blinks his little eyes, before finally smiling up at him after a while. He opens his mouth, a simple word leaving his delicate lips.

“Daddy!”

Chuuya isn’t even allowed a further minute to process it before he hears knocking on the ceiling and someone falls through the vent onto the floor; one with an all-too-familiar figure. And who flashes an all-too-familiar grin.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Half an hour later Chuuya finds himself struggling to process all the information you’ve unloaded on him. He observes as his son draws on a random piece of paper he’s found lying around, in the other side of the room.

“You let them think they’ve captured our son, when in reality you were waiting for them to?”

You nod. Chuuya internally facepalms himself. How is it that you’re able to gamble with this, too? With your — and his — son’s life on the line? You basically left him there to be abducted, knowing that they won’t do anything without Chuuya’s permission (who’s to say he wouldn’t have allowed them to torture the kid? Well, he wouldn’t, but still…) and then sneak yourself past security and into his office, all in the hopes of letting him know he has a son?

Then again, you wouldn’t bet something like that if you didn’t believe that things would absolutely go your way. He’s been with you for so long before, he’s familiar with your moves and the way you think. Not completely, but good enough.

It was so brilliantly simple. (Also, you used to sneak into his office through the vents when your relationship was still under wraps, so it really wasn’t a surprise to him that you chose to sneak in through there now.)

“Why now, after all this time? Why tell me now?”

For a moment he catches a brief look of guilt wash over your face. You lie back on the couch on your spot next to him, and close your eyes, as though bracing for an outburst as his response.

“I didn’t want to tell you at all, at first…” you trail off, the guilt completely taking over you now. “I only came now because… I want you to get Mori off my back.”

Now Chuuya understands why.

So, you didn’t even intend to give him a chance to meet his son, let alone let him be involved in any part of your life. But you only appeared because you knew Mori would come after you, demand for your help. The only reason you showed yourself today… was to convince Chuuya to help you. Because if there’s anyone who could convince Mori to back off, Chuuya could. And you understood that all too well.

Chuuya can just laugh at himself right now. How foolish is he, to think that you came back because you still harboured feelings for him. How pathetic of him.

He can sense his expression growing grim. Not that he’ll make any attempts to conceal it. His cerulean eyes travel from his son to you. You seem a little less guilty now, though. You look… at peace, somehow.

“What makes you think I’ll do what you want?”

“Because you want to prove me wrong.”

Your answer catches him off guard, and his anger is replaced by utter confusion. You take his silence as your cue to explain.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think you’d make a good father and do what’s right for our son. Prove me wrong. Keep our son away from this. Do what a good father would and give him a chance to grow up normal.”

Chuuya scoffs. So that’s why you didn’t tell him anything. Never told him you were pregnant. Never hinted at a goodbye. You’d rather be branded a traitor like Dazai instead of having to make Chuuya choose between you and the mafia. He knows; if you set your mind on something, it’s hard to change it. And in other situations it might’ve been negotiable, but not with your baby.

You know Chuuya would never betray the mafia. That’s why you think he’d never make a good father. Because he can’t put you or the baby first. And now… Now you come with good faith. You’re trying to believe that he can learn to be a good father.

Starting with this choice.

This impossible choice.

Except not really. He knows what he’ll end up choosing anyway. You were right. If he knew you were pregnant he’d have convinced you to stay with the mafia, convinced you that he’d make sure the baby is well-protected. But then he’d be missing the point of your whole argument. You grew up in the mafia, and technically, so did he. You knew how it didn’t allow a chance at normalcy, and you didn’t want to strip your baby of that choice. You wanted your child to at least have a taste of what being normal is like, before you ultimately let them choose what they want.

Now, even if he gives an unfavourable reply, he knows you’d do anything to keep his son away from the mafia. It’s only a question of whether or not you’d have to struggle against Chuuya for it.

Silently, he stretches a hand out to you as he gets up from the couch. He can see the subtle surprise on your face. You’re impressed, aren’t you? He has on the best poker face since you’ve met him. You can’t guess what he’s thinking, this being the first of such instance since you’ve met him. He doesn’t say a thing when you ask him what he’s up to, only continuing to offer his hand to you, keeping mum.

A gamble, a risk you’d have to take. You can either take his hand and see where he leads you, which could lead to you getting your way or it could just lead to total destruction. Or, you can refuse, and then you’d have to figure a way out on your own. Which Chuuya doesn’t doubt you’d already have ingrained in your head.

But he knows you’ll choose the former. Why? It’s the only one where an inherent risk is present. Because you’d be totally in his mercy.

And that’s why you find yourself flown out of the headquarters, onto some random building’s rooftop. A perfect view of the setting sun and an even more perfect view of your old lover, striking crimson locks imitating the beauty of the orange sunset.

Looks like it paid off.

“Will you let me know where you’re staying? A child needs his father,” Chuuya asks you, your fingers intertwined in his, and you forgot just how much you missed this; him.

“And the mafia needs you.”

A swift rejection, but he’s not going to give up so easily.

“I have a right to know. He’s my son too.”

You inch closer to him and he feels like his heart is going to leap out of his chest. It’s been six years since he’s been this close to you, and he can’t believe he has to let you go again. With your son in tow, too. Without so much as a clue as to where you’re going to move to. No way to find out. Given that they only managed to find you in the first place because you wanted to be found.

“Maybe if you’re the boss or something.”

PRESENT.

Now here he is, sitting in the office, new king of the Port Mafia. And his two very important guests are making their way up here. Chuuya hurriedly puts the letters back away. They were how you communicated with him, updated him on you and your son. Though you never put any return address, so Chuuya couldn’t send one back even if he wanted to. Also, you didn’t include any photos, so Chuuya is curious how his son has turned out.

Your timing is impeccable, to choose to visit him just as he’s taken over the office. He suspects maybe you have your ways, what with the vast amount of officials you have wrapped around your finger.

But as the doors open, every other thought he has is thrown out the window. You enter first, and his face lights up, seeing those familiar pair of eyes, so warm, so inviting now. And behind you, your son, now slightly taller than you (and probably Chuuya but he refuses to think of that), greeting him with a polite nod and a smirk on his face.

A wave of understanding washes across his child’s face when he spots something hanging on the wall behind his father.

“Hey! You kept the drawing I did when I first came here!”

He had drawn the three of you together, with himself in the middle, his parents on either side of him, holding his hands and walking in a park.

Chuuya chuckles. “Of course, it was the only thing your mom let me remember you by.” He shifts his gaze over to you as your son gets the hint, moving to admire another far corner of the room.

You let yourself fall into his arms, and Chuuya hugs you tight. Because it’s taken eighteen years. A long, torturous eighteen years apart, which honestly was a run in circles, though it was a necessary one. But now finally, he can be together with you, and his son. Chuuya looks down at you with the warmest gaze you’ve ever seen, wet eyes threatening to spill with tears any moment now.

“Welcome home, my love.”

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

#watched a bit too much kakegurui oops #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd oneshot #bsd scenarios #rachwrote #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd fluff #bsd chuuya fluff #bsd chuuya imagines #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd chuuya scenario #bsd chuuya oneshots #bungo stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya

[dat-town]

colour the world with you

Characters: Yeonjun & You

Genre: fluff

Setting: witch shop au

Summary: The crazy hair coloured guy working at the witch shop where your grandma has you run errands for her keeps getting on your nerves.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s note: title is from TXT’s Your Light

For @restlessmaknae​ to fill your holidays with colours, smiles and happiness.

You told yourself you weren't a believer. People talked about magic as if they had seen it happen but you were doubtful, even when your weak grandma asked you to get a potion for her. When doctors couldn't help, she always turned to alternative methods even though you thought just taking her pills could have helped her. But no, she insisted, put the money into your hands and told you to ask for Han halmeoni's usual. You gritted your teeth but despite not saying it, you were upset how people out there could take advantage of naive elders with their expensive fake herb drinks. Though, you knew better than anyone that arguing with your grandma wouldn't have led anywhere since she was just as stubborn as you. So you agreed with a smile and promised you would get the potion the next day.

Finding the shop called Magic Island – what an obnoxious name for real – was easier than you thought. Witchcraft wasn't hunted or looked down upon as it used to be but you really didn't expect to find it between a coffee shop and a bookstore. From outside it seemed like any other store with its glass windows though it was more colourful and lively than most due to the flowers by the door and the dreamcatcher on the door. You double checked the name and the address then tentatively pressed down on the handle.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the smell of herbs and spices, burning candle scents and warmth hit you in waves. The whole place gave off a very soothing and welcoming vibe and while the interior was even more colourful than the outside, nothing stood out as much as the vivid blue hair of the guy behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he inquired, voice mellow and smile kind. The thin, light blue sweater he wore showed a bit of one of his collarbones and the dangling earring he had in one ear had small blue stones in it. You felt like you had never seen anybody like him.

"I came to pick up something for my grandma, Han halmeoni's usual potion," you recited the rehearsed speech before you could have blurted out something rude. At the mention of your granny, the cashier boy's eyes lit up and he smiled wider.

"Ah, just a minute," he excused himself and leaned down, opening small cabinets full of folies and cans under the counter until he found the glass of the thick green liquid. "Is halmeoni alright though? Has her knee been acting up again?" he asked while he rang up the product and you shouldn't have been surprised that your grandma probably told him about all her life.

"It's her waist this time," you said curtly, wanting to get over the payment as soon as possible. But even after the machine beeped accepting your credit card, the boy with his crazy hair switched on his employee of the mouth smile and kept you there with his rambling:

"It seems like you're quite stressed and anxious recently. Wouldn't you like some chamomile-lavender tea? Or we have a peppermint-citrus cream for headaches, too or–"

"I'm fine," you cut him off not too nicely. Argh... you hated when cashiers were so noisy and he even acted like he knew you just because you weren't in a good mood today but that had nothing to do with your usual exam stress. He couldn't have known about that anyway. And as if some cream would have helped!

The next time you saw the boy he had yellow locks. The unnatural, bright yellow like the fermented radish you liked so much with your traditional Korean dishes. Of course, you didn't go to his shop out of boredom or happiness but for your grandmother's sake you didn't want her to travel across half the city just to get her favourite tea leaves for better digestion. It had been about two months since you had visited the colourful shop, so the changes shouldn't have taken you so aback – after all every shop was usually decorated according to the season – and yet, for a moment you just stood there in the bright warmth of the sunlit room full of buttercups and sunflowers. It almost seemed like the same cashier guy as last time had a hair colour to fit the enterieur but that sounded a bit too ridiculous. Who would have dyed their hair because of their workplace's new decoration? Though who worked at a witch shop in the first place?

"Hi! How can I help you today?" the boy, Yeonjun according to his name tag, flashed a beaming smile at you. He seemed really giddy all the time, maybe being surrounded by all these herbs all day long did something to his brain… or maybe got him high.

"I would like to have a packet of Island of Calm tea," you told him straight, wanting to make it a real quick in and out.

"Ah, for your grandma? I'm glad it helps her," the boy smiled at you sweetly and started humming an annoyingly cheerful song while preparing the packet neatly. He wrapped it up, put on a sticker with good wishes before he would have turned to the cashier machine.

You had already prepared with your wallet but instead of letting you know the price, this Yeonjun guy decided to play with your nerves.

"Sorry about the other day if I came off too strong. We have amulets too if you prefer…"

You slammed down the money on the counter, grabbed the tea and turned to walk out on him before he could have finished that. But...

"It will rain today. Take an umbrella," he shouted after you which only made you snicker.

Hah, who was this guy? He should have minded his own business! The weather forecast didn't say anything about rain anyways.

"I'm fine," you bit at him and walked out.

It didn't even take 10 minutes though for you to get soaking wet in a sudden summer downpour. Under your breath you kept cursing the guy from the magic shop although he had nothing to do with the rain. He just had a good guess.

You really didn't want to go back to the shop. It gave you the chills, like that uneasiness in the stomach that made you want to throw up. You didn't want to go back because you didn't want to hear that crazy hair coloured guy's unwanted preaching about your stress level. You might have been a bit on the edge these days but you were okay, you could handle it. Even if you wished your group partners to Hell sometimes because they couldn't even answer your questions about the schedule and the presentation in your KKT group chat, even if your teacher was a pain in the ass moving the classes as he pleased as if you had nothing better to do. Even if an upcoming family gathering was unnerving you because you didn't want to hear them comparing you to your relatives. It was just a bad time, it would pass, you told yourself, nothing to whine about.

So you took a deep breath, list in hand and you raised your chin before you stepped inside the so-called magic shop. You planned ahead: going to the counter, handing over the list, pretending to get a phone call and leave. Easy and interaction-free. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight this time took your breath away.  You really didn't understand how and why the store changed its interior so drastically and so frequently but this look was even more breathtaking than the ones before.

The whole place had a pink hue, it even smelled like cotton candy and everything had this rosy colour from afar. The ceiling looked like a pink sky with white cloud decorations made of cotton. The dreamcatchers and amulets hanging down all sparkled in the shade of blue hour and you forgot why you came for a moment.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice spoke up from beside you and only then you realised that the cashier boy wasn't behind the counter like usual but instead he was walking between the shelves in the book section, holding a few volumes in his arms. You jumped at his sudden closeness, blinking up at him surprised and it took you a moment too long to process what you had been seeing.

The guy had bright pink hair.

And it looked strangely good on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned and only then you realised that you had been staring. At the way his locks looked against his tanned forehead. At the way he pulled his mouth into a gentle smile and suddenly you felt like the air was getting sucked out of your lungs. What the hell were you doing? Why did he suddenly have such an effect on you?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you muttered, clearing your throat, stepping away.

You walked up to the counter confidently and the boy didn't try to stop you. He didn't say anything, not even as he followed you and took your paper with the list your grandma suddenly needed after you complained to her about the nosy guy in the shop. He prepared the small box with different herbs, creams and lucky charms wordlessly which was a bit unsettling. You only met him twice before yet it seemed like it was out of character for him. But you tried not to think too much into it and just watched him work.

When Yeonjun read your total out loud for you and you handed your card to him there was something knowing in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You know you should really stop saying you're fine when you aren't," he spoke up finally when he gave you back the plastic but instead of letting it go, he looked down on your hand intently. Not understanding the reason behind it you followed his gaze and saw that you managed to cut your finger earlier with the paper when you got startled. You didn't even feel it up until then even though it drew a bit of blood, a few drops drying on your index finger.

"Let me," the boy muttered as he let go and looked around on a shelf not far from the counter.

"It's nothing really," you protested but you felt bad because he shouldn't have been worried about you just because it was him who got you scared. You should have paid more attention.

"It could get infected," he reasoned as he got back with some lotion in a small capsule. He took your hand, gentle and you realised that his hands were soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. Not to mention, it was endearing how attentive he was, even sticking out his tongue a bit in concentration as he put a plaster over the oil-coated wound.

"Thanks," you breathed not really knowing what else you could say and you couldn't even anymore, not with the way he smiled at you, warm like the Sun and soothing like spring breezes.

As you were leaving you couldn't help but think that the way he said those words about you pretending to be okay was about more than just your scar. Maybe he had a great sense for such things.

It was not until you got home that you noticed the extra object in the packet you bought at the shop. You even double-checked with your grandma's list but a scent bag of herbs for better sleeping weren't on that and you didn't even pay for that, so how?

The answer was ridiculously easy: the cashier guy must have sneaked it into your bag, yet you didn't get his reason and why he always tried to have a say in your life but then you looked down on the cute pink plaster on your finger and decided to accept the gift. Even though you didn't believe in it, you put it under your pillow for the night like you were instructed. You almost forgot about it because by the time it was bedtime for you your head was full of unnecessary drama and thoughts that were driving you crazy. On nights like this it was hard to fall asleep because you had too many what ifs going on inside of your head. But this time, even before you could have realised it, you were already drifting off to sleep, tense shoulders relaxing, head empty. You didn't remember when you last slept so well.

So maybe it was confusion, gratitude or the mix of those two that led you back to the Magic Island only a few days later, this time without your grandma having to make you. This time you were expecting the change of interior, so the universe-like violet colours and planets flying around (must be some kind of trick) didn't take you that aback. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen even though the bells rang prettily above the door when you arrived.

For once, you decided to take a look around, so tentatively you wandered deeper into the store, into parts you hadn't been before. You had seen tarot cards in one corner and Ouija boards in another, there were books about ghosts and other dimensions. There was a whole section about curses and a closed off one for potions. You were reading some of the ridiculously long tea names (and why does The night when the world has burned, we are… has chilli in it anyways?) when you heard someone clear their throat. You turned around to face them but your hello died on the tip of your tongue.

Now Yeonjun's hair was purple, that dark but warm kind, like nights on which the sky seemed to embrace you.

"Does halmeoni need something else?" he looked up at you with a genuine, kind smile.

"No, I... Actually I just wanted to thank you for the scent bag," you muttered under your nose, a bit embarrassed but determined to be a bigger person and not act petty over an act of kindness.

"Did it help?" Yeonjun's eyes lit up immediately, straight up happily when you nodded. The smile on his face widened. "Then you're welcome."

You just stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to say or do because apparently he was well aware that he gifted you that and it seemed like he didn't expect anything in return. Not to mention that he figured out that you barely had any sleep lately and cinnamon was one of your favourite scents. Was it just a coincidence? Or did the bags under your eyes betray you like that? Was cinnamon just a lucky guess?

"How did you know?" you blurted out eventually, not getting over your internal struggle. For a moment Yeonjun just looked at you, really looked as if he tried to figure you out and he was rather tentative when he spoke up:

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

You raised an eyebrow as if asking: seriously? at which he let out a chuckle. His laughter made such a pleasant sound!

"Well, then you could say it was just a good hunch," he shrugged and his carefree attitude made you even more curious, throwing you more recklessly into the unknown.

"And if I said I believe in it?" you wondered out loud and the cashier guy looked back at you as if it was a challenge. Maybe it was since you were interested in how he would try to convince you about magic being real.

"It's your aura," he said simply, looking at you and at the same time around you and started explaining:  "It has a different energy based on your mood and well-being. It wasn't that hard to figure out based on that."

You hummed, trying to see whether your rational mind could take it as an answer but even auras and halos and such seemed too... intangible for you. Yeonjun must have sensed your hesitance because a moment later he straightened his back and tilted his head.

"It's easier to show you," he offered, waiting, patient. He must have learned that being pushy with you didn't work because the more he insisted, the more you resisted. But putting it this way: him offering a chance for you to see and believe but with no pressure, it made you halt. Because all your life you had liked certain things. You liked plans, schedules, believing in things you saw or experienced. Maybe that's why magic had always been obnoxious for you: you had met with too many liars and fakes.

You slowly, tentatively nodded.

"Close your eyes," Yeonjun smiled at you encouragingly and albeit not liking the idea of becoming vulnerable even this much, you obeyed.  About five seconds passed before the boy called your name. "You can open them."

Not expecting any big change, you were at a loss of words when Yeonjun stood in front of you with silver grey hair. And not just that! The shop's interior changed in a blink of a minute, too. It was no longer purple but rather monochrome, serious, angular.

"How?" you gasped in awe.

"Magic," Yeonjun smiled and laughed at you before explaining that his mother was a witch, so he's partly one too and that the shop is enchanted, changing based on his mood or will, similarly as his hair colour. It was still unbelievable but you couldn't deny the obvious, so instead of protesting against it anymore, you threw your dozen questions at the boy to which he answered very enthusiastically.

After that afternoon, you slowly started to become a regular at Magic Island. Not only when your grandma had an errand to run but you visited the shop even when you got tired of your scent bag's type or due to another excuse. It was easy to come up with those when you had so many questions. With Yeonjun by your side guiding you through a whole new world opened up in front of you. After your uni classes, you sometimes dropped by to read a book between the shelves about auras and the harmony with nature or potions that actually worked until Yeonjun found you there. Sometimes he called you out on never buying the books but it was only a friendly, teasing banter that ended up with him inviting you over for some herb tea matching your mood (a lot of sweet strawberry and rose mint lately). On other occasions, he joined you on the floor, leaning his back onto the bookshelf too, his arm almost brushing yours as he asked about what you were currently reading about.

He also told you a lot of fun stories and while chuckling over his jokes your stomach didn't ache only due to laughter. You hated to call this feeling as 'butterflies in your stomach' but you had no better word for it and being so good at reading your aura, Yeonjun must have known, too. Yet, he didn't say anything, so you decided to take matters into your hands.

When you opened the door of the magic store on that chilly December afternoon after finally finishing with your exams before winter break, the first thing that hit you was the cinnamon and plum scent. You inhaled deeply and smiled at the Christmassy atmosphere inside the store with the festive decoration. Yeonjun must have had the holiday spirit these days, you thought and it seemed like right because the boy walked out of the storage room in a cute snowman sweater and with faded lavender coloured hair.

"Heya, how was the exam?" he turned to you with a bright smile which you couldn't help but mimic as you walked up to the other side of the counter.

"Manageable," you shrugged, happy that you were finally done with it. Then before you could have chickened out during your conversation, you blurted out: "Do you perhaps have the opposite of love potions?"

"Like an antiserum? Did someone give you a love potion?" Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows but his tone was kind of worried. Cute, you noted.

"No but I'd like this stupid crush gone," you sighed and even grimaced for impact, watching the boy's reaction closely but he seemed more curious and a bit confused than anything.

"Why?"

"I just..." You vaguely threw your hands up and pouted which Yeonjun must have found endearing because the mischievousness was back in his glittering dark eyes and the smirk was on his lips again as he leaned provocatively closer.

"And if I like you back?" he raised an eyebrow and the confidence in his voice made your jaw drop.

The audacity!

"I'm not talking about you!" you retorted right away but more out of pride and teasing than honesty. You couldn't hide that too well from the witch boy either as his grin only widened seeing your blushed cheeks.

"Too bad," he snickered playfully, his lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. Then he pulled back in an instant, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes with an overdramatic sigh. "And I was about to suggest a hot chocolate date..."

"A date you say?" you breathed with a hopeful smile and rested your palms on the counter while this time it was you who leaned closer. Not that it meant a lot because with Yeonjun's height, you just had to angle your neck even more sharply. At least until he decided to scrunch down to your level, dark orbs glimmering in the colourful lights of the shop.

"That I say," he nodded and briefly looked up prompting you to do the same only to see a white mistletoe slowly growing and hanging down above you.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister," you flicked his forehead but giggled anyway knowing all too well that your aura must have been just as pink as your cheeks. But you didn't mind one bit, not until it was Yeonjun who made your world so colourful.

#txt scenarios #txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun fluff #txt fluff #stories

[pinkoptics]

Would You Catch Me If I Fall?

aka Cherik Fallen Angel fic

Part 2 of Chapter 2

(Previous parts now on Ao3)

Erik is going to do everything he can to make sure Charles is taken care of. Charles saved his life. That’s why. Right… right???

*

“Mr. Olsen, I believe you will do exactly as I’ve asked.”

Mr. Olsen opened his mouth, to protest most likely, but Erik was well practiced in speaking in a way that left no room for interruption. “You will, because you are aware of the exact amount my firm has donated to your hospital this year and every other before it.”

Mr. Olsen was turning an interesting shade of red. It had nothing on Azazel, but the flush beneath his skin was making a concerted effort.

“You are also aware of what it would do to this hospital’s reputation for being at the forefront of mutant medicine if my firm were to very vocally withdraw its support and place it elsewhere, say... Johns Hopkins?”

“Mr. Lehnsherr—“ Still red, but now also sputtering. “You do not have the authority. Shaw would never—“

Erik smiled in such a way that Olsen cut himself off. Erik’s smile, though the word hardly applied, very early in his career had earned him the nickname ‘The Shark.’ Only used when he knew his prey was very much backed into a corner of their own making and it was time for the kill.

“If The Incident were to suddenly appear on social media again, with a narrative much closer to the truth...”

Red became purple. “We have an NDA! You can’t—“

“When information is out it is out, Mr. Olsen. Non-disclosures only hold weight if the parties involved care about the consequences. I could give a fuck. Besides, whether this hospital is guilty or innocent, reputations once ruined are terribly hard to salvage, aren’t they? Once, tried in the court of public opinion...”

“Shaw would— you’d be—“

Erik simply raised an eyebrow.

Olsen was right. Erik didn’t have the authority to stop donations, Shaw would have his job and his ass if he ever went to the public about any of the firm’s cases. Moreover, he would probably lose his license to practice. None of those things mattered however, not because Erik truly didn’t care, but because Olsen only needed to believe he was serious. If Erik couldn’t sense the man’s weaknesses, and couldn’t exploit them, he would hardly have been the best lawyer at his firm (no matter what Emma said to the contrary). The seed of doubt, once planted in a weak mind, was notoriously difficult to weed out.

“Fine,” Olsen ground out. Looking like he was very much sucking on a lemon.

Erik levitated the paperwork he had prepared by its staple. It was accompanied by one of the disgustingly expensive fountain pens the firm utilized to perpetuate its reputation. It hovered in front of the sour countenance and Erik felt the same sense of satisfaction he did after a particularly shrewd cross examination.

Threatening Olsen in this way was beyond overkill.

However, Erik knew of nothing else that would resolve Charles’ situation as swiftly. As Olsen scratched out his signature nearly hard enough to tear paper, Charles’ need for insurance, identity, and anything else he did not have, vanished.

Besides, he’d never liked this man or this hospital, so if he got to have a little fun while getting Charles what he needed, all the better. The faster he could get Charles out of here unscathed the better. He owed him that much, possibly more. There were few people insane enough, selfless enough, to throw themselves in front of a car for a stranger. Erik had made it his life’s work to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Charles had more than earned that same protection until he was back to his former self.

T’s crossed and i’s dotted, Erik left Olsen to fume, so he could share the good news with Charles. The words that had been leaping forward died on his lips when he took in the state of Charles’ room.

“. . . Did you rob a florist?”

Charles graced him with a much less hysterical, much more pleasant sounding laugh than he had any time previously.

“Aren’t people just lovely? This one is from the nurse on call, Ben. He has the most adorable little boy. Teething at the moment, which is trying of course, but he’s so precious one can hardly be cross. I’m sure Ben would be happy to show you the photos too. This one is from Dr. Yousef, whom you’ve already met. She detests flowers, personally, as she’s never home consistently enough to care for them properly. This one is from Saima...”

While Charles no longer appeared to be in a state of hysteria, it appeared to be Erik’s turn, and he became suddenly, hysterically deaf. Had he misplaced a day? Or two? More? Was he the one with the head injury?

“Did you— I mean, do you know them?”

Charles cut off his still in-progress monologue about his sudden and inexplicable well-wishers.

“Oh no. We’ve just met. Nancy would like to get coffee when I’m better though. I believe that is a cultural expression of friendship, is it not? Or does coffee equal sex? It’s so hard to keep track of these things as humans rarely say what they truly mean. Why do you lot insist upon speaking in code? A code that changes every generation no less. Regardless, I’ve never had coffee. Given how utterly obsessed with it you all are I’m rather excited to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Erik didn’t know what part of that to address first, if at all.

Ben, Yousef, Saima... who the fuck was Nancy?

Sex?

Never had coffee?

“Oh Erik, I’m sorry. You look so confused again. I forget myself. I would much rather have coffee for the first time with you of course. At that diner you speak so highly of. I believe diners generally serve coffee.”

Erik blinked. Did that mean Charles wanted to be his friend or have sex with him? Or, did never having had coffee actually mean never having had sex? No. Wait. What in the fuck were they talking about?

What came out was, mercifully, “You make friends quickly.” This was something he and Charles certainly didn’t share.

“Do I?” Charles shrugged. “I love people. All people. They’re so fascinating.” Something else he and Charles certainly didn’t share. In his experience, most people were dull or cruel or both. Except Charles. Charles had been the exact opposite of dull or cruel right from the first. Crashing headfirst into Erik, literally and figuratively, and smashing all his expectations of what people did or didn’t do for one another. It might have also been the head injury/amnesia mitigating the dullness, making him say the most ridiculous things that Erik had ever heard and couldn’t even begin to sort out, but Erik didn’t really think so. He read people extremely well and Charles intrigued him. No one intrigued him.

Shoving the friends/coffee/sex equivalency conversation aside, Erik patted his briefcase. “I’ve sorted out everything with hospital administration. You won’t have to worry about insurance, bills... if there’s anything you need, just ask. They will be sure you get it.”

“I won’t ask how you managed it.” Charles’ look became conspiratorial. Almost as if he did know Erik’s methods. There was no way, of course, that he did unless he was a telepath, which Erik had already briefly mused on. “You really needn’t have troubled yourself, though I appreciate it, you, all the same.”

There it was again. The strange gravity his words seemed to possess. Erik flushed, not something he ever did, feeling that appreciation to his core. Charles’ smile deepened and somehow held the same weight as his words. Looking at it was almost too much, like looking straight at the sun, it warmed parts of Erik he hadn’t even realized were cold.

“You can stay with me,” Erik said, apropos of nothing, then flinched, his own words surprising him. It wasn’t the offer he had intended to make. The Firm put people up all the time for various reasons, and Erik had planned to slip Charles in to one of his current cases with no one the wiser. The doctor felt certain it wouldn’t be long until his memory returned, based on her previous experience of such cases.

Charles’ astonishment seemed to match his own. “Erik, that’s too much. You’ve done so much already.”

Erik rubbed at the back of neck, avoiding Charles’ eyes, which were comically, anime-wide. While he hadn’t meant to make the offer, he also found now that he had, he also had no sense of regret. His flat was large, he practically lived at the firm, so it would hardly be an inconvenience and the less he abused his position, the less tracks he had to cover.

He coughed, “There’s always Nancy.” Erik hoped the joke would break the sudden tension. “You could take her up on her ambiguous offer.” Charles laughed. Success.

“Coffee, and whatever else it may suggest, is a far cry from living together. Besides, I don’t even know Nancy.”

“You don’t know me either. You may have unwittingly saved a sociopath the world would be better without.”

Charles shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. You’re a good man, Erik. Better than you know.”

Everything about this was absurd.

“It’s settled then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me until we figure out who you are.”

Charles’ face, which Erik was already beginning to realize was nakedly expressive, came over suddenly unreadable.

“I—“ Charles hesitated, eyes flicking away from Erik to the window. Erik supposed coming to live with any stranger was enough to give anyone pause, especially someone who was as disoriented as Charles must already be. He was about to shift back to his original, much less awkward, plan when Charles’ gaze focused back on him. “All right. Until... until then.”

“Until then,” Erik echoed and they both fell suddenly silent.

He was inviting someone to live with him when he had never lived with anyone besides his mother his entire life. Roommates? Please. Erik had never had to, but would have rather lived in a squalid apartment than have to share a living space with anyone, even when putting himself through the extraordinary expenditure of american law school. Yet, here he was. Here they were. It felt right. Perhaps he had an overabundance of gratitude and quid pro quo to sate. It was the only thing that made any sense in the face of something that made absolutely no sense.

He’d probably regret it the instant Charles was in his space, but he also wasn’t someone who went back on his word, so he was taking in this stray whether he came to regret it or not.

Mama, at least, would approve.

*

Now on Ao3

Thanks for reading!!

#cherik #cherik fanfic #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #fallen angel fic #pinkoptics fic

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - terms of endearment

This work, 关于称呼, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

You very rarely call him by an affectionate nickname. Most of time, you’d just call him “Victor”.

The moment you step into his office, you immediately question, “Victor, why did you call me in here?”

“Weren’t you clamouring about wanting to go on a holiday if your proposal got approved on the first try? I’ve picked out a few places. You can decide where you want to go.” He pushes a wad of papers towards you, with several countries and famous tourist spots listed on them. Even the expected spending has been laid out in detail.

The unexpected surprise leaves a buzzing in your head, and you aren’t sure what you’re feeling so happy about - the fact that your proposal was approved, or the fact that you can go on a vacation with him.

“Vic, you’re the best!” You lunge over, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What... did you call me?” His voice takes on a rare, uncertain tone.

“...Vic?” You pull away from his arms in puzzlement, tilting your head as you look at him.

A small smile tugs at he corners of his lips. He bring you back into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Only my father, mother, and aunt call me that.”

Hearing him mention his mother, you realise that you’ve rubbed a soft spot. Before you can apologise, you hear a gentle yet assertive voice in your ear.

“Since you’ve decided to be a part of my family, there’s no going back.”

[ GAVIN ]

Sometimes, just the slightest teasing can cause Gavin’s face to redden. For instance, when you call him “Darling”.

Sometimes, he’s incredibly bold. For instance, the time he kissed you on the piano in the music room of Loveland High.

After sending your relatives off, you sit on the bed, sensing a headache coming on as you stare at the mess they left on the floor.

Gavin assists in removing your weighty headgear, releasing your complicated braids, and picking out the confetti and ribbons which had accidentally ended up in between strands of hair. He rubs your head affectionately. “Go take a bath. I’ll tidy up.”

Gavin knows that your wedding dress is heavy. After walking around in it for an entire day, and then having to go through the Chinese custom of being pranked and teased by relatives, you’re definitely in a state of fatigue.

You stretch out your hands, watching as the tips of his ears turn crimson. Lifting you up, he carries you to the bathroom.

“Thank you, hubby~” You croon, arms around his neck.

“Cough.” He pauses in his steps, ears turning an even darker shade. “Could you... call me that again?”

You laugh coyly, giving him a sudden peck on the lips. “Hubby~”

Gavin grips you even more tightly. His voice is serious, as though he’s making a vow. “I’ll protect you, and will live up to the promise in this name.”

[ KIRO ]

“You hacked into my phone again!” You twist Kiro’s ears, enraged.

“Miss Chips, let go! I was wrong, I was wrong!” He tosses aside the game console in his hand, doing his best to protect his ears.

You release your grip, handing him your phone. “If you changed anything other your name, change them back right now!”

“There’s really nothing else! Apart from changing my name from ‘The Second Child’ to ‘Mr Chips’, I really didn’t touch anything else!” Kiro holds out three fingers, vowing to the heavens with a serious expression.

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I’ll believe you this time. But why did you change your name? ‘The Second Child’ sounds good. You even sound like Apple Box’s brother.”

[Note] I translated “The Second Child” from the author’s use of “二狗子” (“er gou zi”). It directly translates to “The Second Dog” - an internet slang meant to ridicule the second child in the family

Kiro casts a look of distaste towards the golden retriever lying on the carpet. “I’m not its brother. It only knows how to snatch my Miss Chips!”

You chuckle. “Are you still mad at Apple Box?”

Kiro fumes, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you onto the sofa. “I don’t care. Next time, you have to call me ‘Mr Chips’. This way, anyone who hears it will know that I'm with Miss Chips!”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Could you change the way you address me?” Lucien has an arm around you on the sofa as he reads a book, his eyes accidentally flitting to the screen of your phone. 

He recognises the familiar display picture as himself, but why is his name saved as “Big Fox🦊”?

“Isn’t it very appropriate?” You straighten up, patting and shaping his hair so it resembles two fox ears. “See? You two look similar and cute.”

He smoothens his hair in resignation, then tousles yours. “But I still think it’s slightly odd.”

You pout while swatting his hand away, tidying your hair. “What name did you set for me in your phone then?”

Lucien picks up his phone from the coffee table, handing it to you. With a tilt of his chin, he beckons you to take a look yourself.

Suspicious, you take the phone, unlocking it with your fingerprint. Unlike your phone, the message bubble at the top doesn’t contain any emojis or strange symbols. Just a simple: “Twelve”.

“Why ‘Twelve’?” You ask, baffled.

Lucien doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flips your hand over, drawing on your palm with his finger.

One stroke, another stroke, a few more strokes... a dot.

A total of twelve strokes.

“You use twelve strokes to write ‘朋友’, ‘恋人’, and ‘家人’.”

[Trivia]

朋友 (“peng you” - friend)

灵魂 (“lian ren” - lover)

家人 (“jia ren” - family)

The original version is slightly different (he saves her name as “Twenty” and writes the Chinese word for “soul” on her palm). But it requires a lot of explanation so I just altered it to make things less confusing!

[ SHAW ]

After coming across an internet article on terms of endearment, you start to reflect on what you usually call him.

“Shaw”, “Pikashaw”, “Eggplant Head”, “Spring Thunder”, “Little Brat”... and a few others.

“Little Brat, I usually call you using so many nicknames, but which one's your favourite?” You push away Shaw’s hand on your thigh before laying on his lap.

Shaw shuffles his legs together so you can be more comfortable, then stuffs a french fry into your mouth. “Spring Thunder.”

You blink a few times, not expecting that he’d actually fancy that particular term of address. Whenever you call him that, he usually starts fuming.

“Why?” You ask, leaving your mouth open as you wait for the next fry.

“It sounds intimidating, and suits my Evol.” He sticks a fry into tomato ketchup before bringing it to your lips.

You frown, though you’re unsure if it’s because of the slight sourness of the tomato ketchup or the fact that Shaw seems to misunderstand what it means to be “intimidating”.

“Tell me the truth.” You sit upright, pulling a sheet of tissue from the box to wipe some salt off the corners of your mouth.

Shaw lapses into a short silence. In an almost imperceptible voice, he answers. “It sounds good with “Spring Plum.”

[Note] In EN, the alias Shaw gives MC in Ch 22 is “Mary Sue”. But in CN, her alias is “刘春梅” (“liu chun mei”), which very loosely translates to “Spring Plum”.

The nickname MC gives Shaw, “Spring Thunder”, is 凌春雷 (“ling chun lei”), which rhymes with 刘春梅 ^o^

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

[xiyao-feels]

@hqfeels

Oh man, as someone who loves 3zun, and thinks the mess of intertwining relationships is what makes it interesting, I really should not have read this post - while I think you make some interesting points for a different interpretation of the Nielan relationship, I would also caution against basing your interpretation so closely to the words of what is a translation

e.g. when you discuss LXC not framing things in terms of the sworn brother relationship, you point to the use of “one of his sworn brothers” vs “my” or “our” - chinese doesn’t always use pronouns, so it could very well be the translator having to fill in

I make note of this, not as a nitpick, but bc I think it goes to the heart of the framing of the relationship. Because I think Xiyao is fundamentally framed within the 3zun context - after all, what does JGY call LXC to show they’re close? Er-ge. “2”, not just Ge. NMJ, as Da-ge eternally haunts their relationship. The point of rejection from LXC? You don’t have to call me Er-ge anymore.

So, hey! I appreciate that you said you shouldn't have read my post, but I thought your points were worth addressing, and since you left comments in the notes I figured it was reasonable to respond. If you don't want to read this post, I completely understand, and I've left a bunch of empty lines after this paragraph so you don't have to read it if you don't want to.

The point about relying too heavily on exact shades of meaning is definitely a good one. Reading over my post, however, I think there are only three places where I do that; the point identified, later for one point in my discussion of QHJ's teacher, and actually later in the temple when I talk about the "sob" of Liebing as some evidence for LXC's grief for NMJ.

I think it's worth asking: how much does any one of these points contribute to the argument? They're definitely not irrelevant, or I wouldn't have pointed them out, but even so there's only so much wiggle room. No matter what pronouns he uses, for example, LXC only spends one clause of that speech directly on JGY killing NMJ, and it's in the context of, well, a general lack of reaction of personal grief. If—not even if he actually said 'our sworn brother' or 'my sworn brother,' I do think that would be some evidence of personal betrayal, even if it has to be considered in light of the rest of his reactions and non-reactions. But if, in the original text, the Chinese simply didn't specify the pronouns such that "his" is the translator's best guess—I just don't see that as a serious blow to the argument, given the consistency of the pattern as a whole, and I think it's kind of cherry-picking to suggest that it is.

Second, I don't think the pronoun there is ambiguous as is suggested. Consider the phrasing; it's not just "his sworn brother," it's "one of his sworn brothers." Supposing that "his" wasn't present in the original text. "One of my sworn brothers"? "One of our sworn brothers"? Neither really makes sense. Of course, perhaps they might make more sense in Chinese; but that's a little further than "what if the translator had to pick a pronoun."

Now, I think the above points are worth considering on their own merits, which is why I brought them up first. However, I have to say: I did, actually, check the Chinese, for the "one of his sworn brothers" and indeed in multiple places. I didn't mention it in the post for the same reason I usually try not to rely on it in my posts: because I feel like I'd end up setting myself up as some kind of authority when I'm very much not, and because I'm frequently fairly confused XP I have, what, one term of Mandarin, some amount of self-study, and Pleco installed on my phone. But I do often look at the original text and try to work things out, and sometimes I learn stuff that's been lost in translation, and often I can go well, my best guess aligns with the translation. If you want to confirm for yourself, and I encourage you to do so!!, then you can look at the text here: https://www.kunnu.com/modaozushi/. It's in chapter 64.

This is the clause about JGY killing one of his sworn brothers: 他设计杀害了自己的一位义兄 ("that he planned to kill one of his sworn brothers"). The pronoun before "one of his sworn brothers" is 自己, which is a pronoun referring to the subject of the sentence—in this case 他, he, JGY. Now, could I be wrong? Of course! Should anyone rely on uncited statements from a total stranger? No! I strongly encourage people to check this out for themselves, and if someone who actually does speak Chinese wants to offer some guidance I'd be very grateful. But given that it matched the translation from people who do actually speak both Chinese and English, it seemed enough to allow me to rely on the translation.

On that note, actually, I'll admit I missed a trick. "我父亲的一位恩师", one of my father's teachers—"teacher" there is 恩师, which Pleco gives me as "mentor; one's kind and respected master (or teacher)." So it does have more of an emotional edge, and I'll edit the post to acknowledge this. Even so, I think it's worth remembering both that it's one word, he's not adding lots of adjectives about the teacher, and most importantly that the teacher simply isn't lingered on. The effects of his mother killing the teacher, yes, and the contrast between his memories of his mother and the fact that she did kill his father's teacher...but the teacher himself is just not dwelled on.

(For completion's sake, the "sob" of Liebing in ch 107 is "呜咽", which Pleco gives as 1) sob, whimper 2) (of water, wind, stringed instrument, etc) weep; wail; lament; mourn.)

But again, quibbling over phrasing is to some extent a distraction. The important thing is not so much any one incident as the pattern they form, considered together; this is why my original post was so long, because I was trying to consider the overall pattern, and I think the comment about framing is pointing at the same thing. So it's worth asking: are xi//yao framed in terms of the 3//zun relationship?

In fact, I think this divides into two questions. First: does the text frame xi//yao in terms of the 3//zun relationship? And second: do xi//yao understand their relationship fundamentally in terms of the 3//zun relationship? I think you could make more of an argument on the first one, or at least, xi//yao and NMJ are part of their own narrative in the text and often show up together. But in terms of the actual relationship, it's the second question I'm interested in here, and I think the answer is very much no.

First of all, a note on timelines. In MDZS, LXC and JGY knew each other for about seventeen years; they were sworn brothers with NMJ for about four. To put this another way, they were sworn brothers with NMJ for less than a quarter of their overall time together. Moreover, they had significant time without NMJ before they all became sworn brothers, as well as after his death. Now, much of their relationship is revealed to us through Empathy, which necessarily limits us to when NMJ was alive, and moreover shows us only those of their moments together that he happens to see, so it's understandable that these years dominate our view, but I do think it's important to remember.

Okay, now let's consider what we see of their relationship. Given how much of it we see through NMJ's eyes, it's in fact remarkable how much it isn't about him. In the first conversation we see them have together, LXC is proposing that MY stop being NMJ's deputy and go serve his father in Langya (though only after confirming that's still what MY wants, note—and which he knows MY had wanted because MY literally told him!). When MY says he does want it but he owes NMJ, LXC says he thinks NMJ will understand but volunteers to talk with NMJ himself if he doesn't. Neither of them have told NMJ they know each other; after NMJ comes in, when he seeks to find out how they do, asking LXC and then ordering MY to speak after LXC refuses, they don't tell him. I'm not saying either of them are unhappy with NMJ here—quite the contrary!—but there's no sign they see the other, or their relationship with each other, fundamentally in terms of him. (For a close reading of the scene, as ever, I recommend confusion-and-more's post here.)

Furthermore, in MDZS, after MY flees from NMJ in Langya and becomes a spy, he starts sending LXC letters with information, and LXC works out who it is. As with pretty much everything we see about them, this suggests a quite astonishing intimacy—that MY was able to trust that LXC would work it out, and that LXC did. Not only did NMJ not know who the spy was, in MDZS he didn't know there was a spy at all—LXC concealed it from him entirely. Now, this is obviously very solid practice for spies, but again—you have xiyao together, and NMJ apart. (I'll also note that in MDZS LXC is exchanging blows with NMJ sword to saber until the very end of the post-Sun Palace confrontation, even after MY steps forward; he definitely does not seem to think that NMJ has any sort of right, here.)

At the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, we see them together but, again, not with NMJ, and there's no suggestion that LXC had socialized with him particularly—JGY is aware of how much prey he's taken, but of course JGY is running the hunt. Then when they both go off at the end of the scene to expand the hunting grounds, LXC asks LWJ if he'd like to help, but there's zero suggestion that they're going to seek out NMJ, even though he's part of the reason JGY needs to expand the hunting grounds.

In chapter 73, LXC and JGY are talking after the conference. Then NMJ comes over and comments disapprovingly about JGY. Again, LXC doesn't actually speak a single word after NMJ joins them. This... really does not suggest perceiving him and JGY as fundamentally part of that triad, imho.

The guqin scene: LXC and JGY are very much focused on each other. Only LXC talks with NMJ at all, and only once, briefly, answering his objection. NMJ is described as looking up before his objection, which suggests to me that he/wasn't/ looking up before. Meanwhile LXC and JGY are complimenting each other's playing, LXC is offering to teach him exclusive teachings, and JGY is telling LXC about his mother. You could reasonably say LXC teaching JGY the Song of Clarity is or is partly about NMJ—his desire again for them to reconcile—but in their interactions they are focused on each other to an almost absurd extent, and not NMJ.

The discussion conference mentioned in chapter 30? We're told NMJ wasn't originally planning to go; it seems likely that we would have been told if the same was true of LXC, given that LWJ is the one telling us about it. So, again, we have JGY and LXC together, and NMJ only coming in for outside reasons.

At the beginning of the stairs conflict, when NMJ comes in and calls JGY out, we see that JGY and LXC are discussing something, with "notes of all colours" on the desk before them. WWX is later going to realize they're discussing the watchtowers, which even now, well before he's Jin-zongzhu, JGY is trying to convince his father to build; there's no sign, on the other hand, that NMJ even knows what they're working on.

Their last interaction before NMJ's death /is/ about NMJ, with JGY very upset and LXC defending the idea that NMJ hasn't rejected JGY completely. But again this doesn't suggest that they view their relationship fundamentally in terms of their relationship with NMJ, and as we've seen it's not what they're usually talking about.

I talk here about two patterns of 3//zun interaction in the Empathy chapters: broadly, MY/JGY and LXC talking privately and NMJ coming and interrupting them, and NMJ attacking MY/JGY, and LXC intervening.

Looking over their interactions, the text does not, to me, suggest that LXC and JGYview their relationship fundamentally in terms of NMJ or of 3//zun.

And again—LXC doesn't bring up NMJ in the temple, and he only reacts to NMJ-as-NMJ three brief times.

Now, it is of course true that JGY calls LXC er-ge as a sign of closeness, and that he's 'er-ge' because NMJ is the first brother. However, a few points.

First, I would argue that it's a recurring theme in MDZS (and /especially/ for JGY) that the form of a relationship doesn't necessarily match what the relationship actually is; the form, therefore, might be an interesting point to consider, but it must be considered in light of the evidence we have about their actual relationship.

Second, JGY calls LXC er-ge a full thirteen times in the temple chapters. Once in chapter 99, when he's responding to LXC about JL; twice in chapter 100, discussing NHS; in chapter 105, three times leading up to his explanation of the letter; six full times when answering LXC's questions in chapter 106; and then once in chapter 108 when he is literally asking LXC for protection from NMJ's fierce corpse.

Once and only once, on the last er-ge in chapter 105, does LXC respond to being called er-ge, though we're told he did so earlier off-page. And—well, look at the paragraph:

His tone was more than earnest. Ever since he captured Lan XiChen, he’d indeed been treating him with respect. At this point, Lan XiChen wasn’t able to turn against him yet. He could only sigh, “Sect Leader Jin, I have already said, when you went your own way to scheme such havoc at Burial Mound, that there was no longer the need to call me ‘Brother.’”

This is not only not framed as an essential rejection, it's framed as explicitly /not/ that: "Lan XiChen wasn't able to turn against him yet." And again, as I pointed out in my post, we're explicitly given a reason for it that has absolutely nothing to do with NMJ! 'Don't call me er-ge because you killed da-ge' would be very natural; the fact that it's explicitly not about that suggests strongly to me that they simply don't think of 'er-ge' in terms of its relation to NMJ, despite the form.

#ship negativity cw #that damn bingo post #a gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs #profound philosophical differences #we can't change places #anger burned in his heart #the best of men #more than one tag could contain #long meta

[mangamushi]

Thoughts on Panorama of Hell

 (HINO Hideshi, 1 volume, 1984)

(warning for spoilers and disturbing topics)

In Panorama from Hell, a painter obsessed with depicting hell takes the reader on a journey to discover his life. His work, his neighborhood, his family members and family history are presented to paint a bleak and violent picture of hell on earth.

Hideshi Hino is a very big name of horror manga. Panorama of Hell is one of Hino’s most famous and acclaimed manga, and represents in many ways the quintessence of his style. When he draw Panorama, he thought it would possibly be his last horror manga (he didnt actually stop after that, though).

It displays all his favorite themes and even blatantly recycles ideas from his previous works. It is therefore is a very good entry point for anyone interested in Hino’s stuff. One the other hand, it feels a bit redundant when you are already familiar with his work, especially if you have read Lullaby from Hell, as both manga are very similar. 

As the title suggests, Panorama takes place in a hellish setting, described in great details by the main character.  He is a painter who uses his own blood to paint, and the world he lives is horrible in many ways: from his window he sees an execution platform operating non-stop, a stream full off trash and corpses runs next to his house, he lives in the smell of burning bodies because of the next-door crematorium... 

These first few chapters are so insistent on being as abhorrent as possible that I found it hard to take seriously. In the beginning it felt so exaggerated and lacking any subtlety  that it almost felt a bit comical at times, like the author was just stacking awful things on more awful things for shock value.

“his daily routine”

And it keeps escalating from there. Next, his family is introduced: cruel children with a dark sense of curiosity, a beautiful wife who seems straight out of a classic japanese horror tale (pale skin and long black hair, wearing traditional clothes...), until we go back in time to witness the story of his grand-parents and parents. 

It gradually becomes more interesting, especially the part about his family which shows deeply ingrained violence and insanity getting passed down from a generation to the next. It culminates when historical events (WWII and its aftermath, the atomic bombings) are shown, intertwining with the painter’s personal story.

Different kinds of hells complete each other (ambient with initial setting and scenery of desolation, a more personal hell with the intra-familial violence, and the wider-scale historical hell of war).

Overall, I find Hino less imaginative than  fellow “horror masters” Junji ito and Kazuo Umezu. Those two can come up with the craziest ideas, whereas Hino’s scenarios and imagery are somewhat more expected/conventional for horror. 

But perhaps the most interesting part of Panorama is the way it blurs the borders between reality and fiction. First of all, the main character, an artist who specializes in depicting horror, acts as a stand-in for Hino himself. This is fairly common in his work, his other manga Lullaby from hell even has an extremely similar character overtly present himself as Hino: 

The artist from Panorama is making his last, best painting, just like Hino who was thinking of ending his mangaka career with his strongest work.  Both the painting and the manga share the same title, “Panorama of Hell”. 

 The similarities between Hino and his main character don’t end here, and many elements of the story are actually taken from Hino’s own life: his grandfather really was a yakuza, his brother went into a coma, his father was pig farmer with a tattoo on his back...

Just like the painter, Hino grew up in the context of the direct aftermath of WWII. Both the character and the author were born in Japanese-occupied China, and were nearly killed when their family fled back to Mainland-Japan after the country’s loss. He takes inspiration from his own life and in the traumatizing things he witnessed and lived through to draw his manga. It is hard to discern what is fiction or not in the painter’s story. Many elements are obviously fantastical and folklore-ish, like the beheaded ghosts visiting the wife’s bar (this chapter feel like a tone-shift, it is much more whimsical, with the corpses happily eating their own body parts), yet the references to real historic events like the war and Hiroshima bombing still links Panorama of Hell to reality, to our world. 

The painter’s insanity makes him an unreliable narrator. Indeed, at the end of the story, the current members of the painter’s family (his wife, his daughter and son, his brother...) are revealed to have been fake all along : the wife and children are a mannequin and puppets, the brother is a pig’s corpse...

Moreover, by having the painter address the reader directly (”let me show you...”) Hino breaks the fourth wall that should separate the world of fiction from reality.

 This culminates at the very end of the book, where the painter throws an axe at the reader to kill them.

Hino’s art style is really simple and easily recognizable. The way he draws body horror and wounds isn’t very realistic, which makes the gore parts less shocking. His character’s simple, soft, deformed appearance reminds me of modeling clay or perhaps melting plastic toys.

I am even tempted to describe his style as cute. The big eyes, round features, and the way his characters are often miserable and mistreated by others...it is cute in a pitiful way.

Hino draws lots of babies, children, and baby animals which adds to both the cuteness and the horror. It also helps that I share Hino’s fondness for insects, worms and other similar crawling creatures...

There are figures based on his works that are just too cute! 

Hino often puts animals in his stories and even merges animals and humans. He writes stories where people transform into animals (Bug Boy) or give birth to inhuman creatures ( Unusual Fetus -My Baby ). Human bodies are more often than not hosts to parasites and maggots (Mermaid in a manhole...).

In Panorama of Hell, humans are executed one after the other like livestock in a slaughterhouse, and their bodies get dumped in a stream where they mix with other dead animals. Beheaded bodies try to put animal heads on to feel complete again, and the painter’s daughter is obsessed with animal corpses that she collects and dissects.

He doesn’t use any screen tones, nor does he use a lot of crosshatching as a mean to create different shades of grey, so the jet black ink creates a stark contrast against  the white of the paper. Some pages are beautiful and esthetically pleasing in spite of the repulsive contents. Especially towards the end of the book, which depict strange surrealist imagery as the world is falling apart.

His frequent use of pitch black silhouettes reminds me of shadow play theater  (which originates from China where Hino was born), as well as of Kamishibai (street theater using paper, which was very popular in post-war Japan). 

Kamishibai originates from buddhist temples and was often used to spread buddhist teachings.

Hino makes uses of buddhist concepts and imagery in his depiction of hell. Panorama of Hell could be compared to the Hell Scroll, a famous scroll describing the Chinese Buddhist conception of hell with text and pictures. 

↑ The “Blood Lake” and “Needle Moutain” in this panel refers to two of the different kinds of hells depicted in the Hell Scroll. The blood lake is exclusively for women.

Young women are only thing that are drawn in a conventionaly beautiful way.  However, finding beauty and fascination in the most horrendous things is a central point of Hino’s body of work. His characters are either artists or collectors obsessed with what fits their strange idea of beauty (cf. Flower of Flesh and Blood, where a woman’s dismemberment is an act of creation and a research of ideal beauty in the perpetrator’s eyes).

The contrast between the solid black shadows and the untouched white of the paper can give the impression that a strong, blinding light is hitting the world. The violent light emitted from an explosion, for example. Which is fitting, giving the importance of the Hiroshima atomic bomb in the story and its repercussions that still dawn on the characters years later. It’s like the characters are constantly bathed in the harsh light of the bombings. 

The Hiroshima bomb is called a “gigantic emperor from hell”, it rules over the character’s lives, even years after it was dropped. As a child, the painters created a replica of the mushroom cloud that he worships like a god.

Panorama of Hell is a very dark and pessimistic work, displaying a world where there is no hope and nothing is spared (not even the reader, who receives the painter’s axe!). In fact, the main character was already doomed before he was even born. Indeed, he is the child of the Hiroshima bomb itself: his mother got pregnant as she was hit by a beam from the explosion. 

#hideshi hino #panorama of hell #horror #hino hideshi #horror manga

[harryhooksgazebos267]

Broken Trust~ Part 13

Paring: Bang Chan x reader; Mark Tuan x reader(arranged marriage)

Genre: Mafia au, angst, little bit of everything honestly

Warnings: Cursing, mafia life shizzl

MASTERLIST

As Chan and you made your way back to where everyone was you couldn’t help but smile slightly as you thought back to what just happened between Chan and yourself. You really had missed him and it felt good knowing that after all these years he still felt the same about you. However, the smile on your face disappeared as you entered the living room and saw glass lying on the ground from a shattered window.

“What the fuck happened?” Chan questioned as Felix walked over to him, handing him a brick that had a note attached to it.

“Seems like y/n was right, Irene snitched.”

You walked over and peered over Chan’s shoulder to read the note.

Stray Kids,

It has come to my attention that you are planning to attack the JYP empire. So, it seems as though this is to be war between us. Anyone who threatens JYP threatens my mafia and my authority and I will be sure to end any and all threats before they become a problem, that is including you y/n. However, I have decided to give you one more chance. On the back of this note, you will find an address. Y/n, you are to go there, only accompanied by Blackpink if you must have someone. Stray Kids is to stay back and if they don’t, I will and can kill you y/n. Be there at 6 p.m. sharp and don’t be late, I am expecting your answer on where your loyalty stands. Don’t make a decision you’ll regret.

~M.T

“Why is he being so extra with his wording?” You ask jokingly.

“Y/n,” Jisoo scolds shaking her head.

“So, what are we going to do? We can’t just send the five of them there by themselves. It could be a trap,” Jeongin voices his concerns.

“Yeah but if we all go then y/n dies and I honestly wouldn’t take his threat lightly,” Jennie sighs out.

“So we either send the three of you plus Lisa and Rosé and you get kidnapped and possibly killed or we go and y/n gets killed,” Hyunjin bitterly stated.

“I swear to god if I got my hands on Mark,” Jisung muttered while taking a bite out of cheese cake that seemed to magically appear in his hands.

“Jisung.”

“Yeah?” He asked you with an eyebrow raised while munching away.

“Bro when the fuck did you go to get cheese cake and where did you even get it from? You know what, that doesn’t even matter, why are you eating cheese cake right now?” You questioned bewildered.

“I eat when I’m stressed,” He mumbled with his mouth full.

“So what are we going to do?” Seungmin asked Chan ignoring the exchange Jisung and you had.

Everyone turned to look at the leader who seemed to be deep in thought.

“Felix can you go grab your laptop?”

“Yeah sure,” Felix answered quickly going to retrieve said item.

In the blink of an eye, Felix was back with his laptop and handed it over to Chan. Once getting the laptop, Chan sat down in one of the armchairs and opened up google maps. Quickly, he typed in the address that was on the back of the note.

“Okay so it seems as though the address he gave us is at a warehouse which isn’t surprising at all. But we’ve actually been there before to make a couple of weapon deals. One time the job went south so Felix and I had to run and hide. About three miles out there is this little abandoned cottage so if some of us go a little early to the cottage to make sure none of Mark or JYP’s men are there, we can hide there while y/n and the girls talk to Mark. That way we would be close enough where if something goes wrong we’ll be able to get to them quickly. We can put a microphone on the girls so that we can hear what’s going. If we get there like an hour early I think that would give us enough time to prep and make sure everything is safe,” Chan explained his idea while the group nodded along.

“I think that’s our best bet honestly,” Minho said.

“Yeah I agree,” Jisoo stated nodding her head.

Hums and words of agreement filled the room.

“Great, then it’s settled. Jennie, Jisoo, are you guys still going to leave or do you want to stay here tonight just in case something goes wrong over at YG?” Chan asks them while shutting the laptop.

The two girls exchange a quick glance before Jennie turned to talk.

“I think we’ll stay. I’m going to call Rosie and have her and Lisa come over. I guess I’ll have them bring our clothes and anything else we’ll need for tomorrow.”

“Okay, Changbin, Jisung, can the two of you go make sure the guest rooms are clean?”

“Yeah sure, Jisung stop shoving your face and get your ass up!”

You laugh as Jisung practically inhales the rest of the cake and follows Changbin to do what Chan asked him to do. Suddenly you feel a hand squeeze you shoulder. Glancing over, you catch Jisoo’s gaze. She gives you a little smile while taking your hand and standing up.

“Hey Chan y/n and I need to talk for a second. Is there a secluded area we could?”

“Ah yeah, we have a garden in the backyard. I can take you to it,”He said while giving you two a slight smile.

It didn’t take long to get to the garden. After thanking him, Chan made his exit. Jisoo and you made your way over to a bench that was in front of a pond that was positioned in the middle of the garden.

“So what’s up?” You questioned as you sat down.

Jisoo took a moment to get her thoughts together before speaking.

“Before I start, I just want you to know the only reason I’m bringing this up is because I really do love you and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh god, I don’t like where this is going.”

Jisoo laughed light at your comment.

“It’s nothing too bad, I just want to make sure that you really don’t have any feelings for Mark. When you told us about the kiss you were blushing and all this stuff and I...listen, I’m not going to judge you if you do but come tomorrow you aren’t going to be able to undo the decision you make. If you tell Mark you’re with Stray Kids, you lose Mark and you’re never getting him back. If you side with Mark then you lose Chan.”

"I....wow I wasn’t expecting that honestly,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Did you enjoy the kiss?”

“I mean...I wouldn’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” You trailed off as you played with your hands.

“Have you ever thought about Mark in a romantic way?”

“Well of course I have, we are engaged after all. After the initial lose of Chan I was so against the idea of getting married to him but then you know I started warming up to the idea I guess. When we weren’t fighting or when he wasn’t being cold I did enjoy being around him. And you know, I would be lying if I said I don’t think he’s attractive.”

“So, would you say that you love him though?”

You take a second to think about everything. Did you love Mark? You knew for a fact that you did care for him but in what way?

“I...I do love Mark but it’s not in the way that he wants or needs me to. Once you get past his hard exterior he’s a really great guy and I think he truly does care for me but I just, I can’t be the person he wants me to be. Even if Chan never came back, I don’t think I would ever love him as much as I think he loves me,” You confess.

“With all that being said, if you had to kill him could you do it?”

“Hey Lisa and Rosie are on their way,” You heard Jennie call out as she walked over to the two of you.

“Okay good,” you say while moving over so Jennie could sit down.

“So what were you guys talking about?”

“We were talking about Mark,” Jisoo told her while yawning.

“Oh? Everything good? You aren’t second guessing anything right?” Jennie asked you.

“No, no everything is fine. You guys don’t have to worry.”

“Like I said, I just don’t want you to get hurt y/n. Either way you’re going to have to pick between the two of them and honestly I’m not really worried about your decision there.”

“What do you mean?” You ask a little confused.

“Well it’s no secret that you’ll pick Chan but,” Jisoo trails off while looking at Jennie and kind motioning for her to speak.

“Listen the two of us have been talking and we just have a gut feeling that this isn’t going to end good. We just want to make sure that you are prepared for anything that comes your way.” Jennie explains.

“Guys seriously you don’t have to worry, everything is going to be fine,” you say with a reassuring smile.

Jisoo opens up her mouth to speak but before she can you quickly stand up, no longer wanting to have this conversation.

“Well we have a long day tomorrow so I should probably go to bed. Goodnight guys.”

You turn to go find Chan so you can figure out where you would be sleeping. Retracing your steps, you make it back into the living room to find him, Minho, Changbin, and Hyunjin sitting discussing tomorrow.

“Hey Chan,” You call out from the doorway which causes him to look up.

Excusing himself from the conversation, he walks over to where you stood.

“Everything good with Jisoo?” He asks you once he was close enough.

“Yeah it was nothing serious, she just need to ask me a question.”

“That’s good, so what can I do for you?”

“I’m a little tired so I think I’m gonna go to bed,” You inform him.

“Oh yeah you can go to bed, goodnight!” He says with a little wave as he turned back around to go back to talking with the boys.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you look at him a little puzzled.

“Chan, where the fuck am I sleeping?” You deadpan, a little confused as to why this man is acting like you know where the guest rooms are.

“My room?” He says a little confused as to why you were asking.

“I’m sleeping in your room?”

“Yeah?”

“With you?”

“Yeah...I mean you don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable I just figured because of earlier that you would want to...” He trailed off rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks turned a light shade of red.

“Oh no Chan that’s not what I meant! I don’t care if we share a room, it’s not like it would be the first time I just figured I was just sleeping in a guest room or something,” you explain, “But I would prefer to share a room with you anyways,” you quickly add to reassure him.

“Okay good!” He smiles relieved, his dimples popping out.

“I still need you to show me where it is though, this is like my second time being here. I literally have no idea where anything is.”

Chan takes your hand in his and begins leading you to his room, after telling the boys he would be right back of course. Once in his room you face plant on to his bed and sigh in content as the soft material of his blanket hits your skin.

“I brought all the stuff that you have up here earlier, it’s in the corner by my drawer. If you need anything just call me okay?”

“Okie dokie.”

Chan turns to exit his room and shuts the door behind him. You sigh as you struggle to lift your tired body off of his bed to get changed into your pajamas. Grabbing your clothes and your toiletries, you walk into the bathroom that was connected to Chan’s and begin to do your nightly routine. Once you were done, you crawl under the covers and snuggle up into Chan’s bed. You were utterly exhausted but for some reason, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was filled with thoughts and doubts and it just wouldn’t shut up. You couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what Jisoo has asked you.

Could you kill Mark if you had to?

After about an hour of tossing and turning, you hear Chan’s door creep open as he tiptoed into the room.

“You don’t have to be quiet, I haven’t fallen asleep yet,” You mumble out.

“I’m surprised, you seemed really tired earlier,” He comments.

“It’s just one of the nights,” You reply with a shrug.

“Is it okay if I just change here or do you want be to go in the bathroom?”

“Your room, your rules. My eyes are closed anyway.”

“I’m sure you’re dying to open them though,” Chan jokes as you hear him open his drawers.

“I mean you aren’t wrong,” You agree which causes him to chuckle slightly.

After a few more moments, you feel the other side of the bed dip down as Chan lays down. He seemed to freeze for a moment before turning to lay with his back facing you which surprised you a little. Sir had the balls to kiss you and share a bed with you but didn’t have the balls to cuddle you, very rude.

“Goodnight y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

"....”

“Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m cold.”

“Am I taking up too much of the blanket?”

“No.”

“Do you want another blanket?”

“No.”

“......do you want to wear one of my long sleeved shirts?”

“Do you think I want your long sleeved shirt?”

“Maybe?”

Rolling your eyes, you move your body closer to Chan and pull on his shoulder so that he was laying on his back. You lay your head on his chest as he wraps his arm around you.

“Before you say anything I just want to say that I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions,” Chan defends.

“You’re so stupid,” You half heartedly joke as you feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.

Chan just laughs while pulling you closer into his chest and sighing in content. All of the worries leaving your mind as you finally fall asleep.

A/n: Sorry the ending sucks lol...I wasn’t sure how to end it honestly

TAG LIST (feel free to send me an ask if you would like to be added to the tag list or if you would like me to send a private message every time I update <3): @elenaramos1 @yup-indecisive-girl-cece @ewok7attack @0leelina0 @letterstoskz @lilacyeonjun @leesalts @craftymoonchaos @pajerita19 @basebalgirl70 @imagining-constantly @exfolitae @sangiejoong​ 

Part 14

MASTERLIST

#broken trust #bang chan x reader #mark tuan x reader #bang Chan mafia au #stray kids #got7 #Mark Tuan mafia au #stray kids mafia au #got7 mafia au #Blackpink #jennie #jisoo #rosé #Lisa #bang chan #Mark Tuan #Blackpink mafia au #Lee know #Minho #Changbin #hyunjin #jisung #Han #Felix #Seungmin #jeongin #I.n #jb #red velvet #Irene

[dindjarindiaries]

Comparisons don't feel great, but even if the author were to speak on it, that would not change things and how people choose to behave. I saw a comment on TikTok months ago mentioning to read Security FIRST over certain fics and I didn't immediately thing, wow Molly should address this. If you would even take a second to go on her page, she wrote a long post where she's struggling as well and even wanted to end the fic. 1/2

So this name tossing back and forth is not good for anyone. 95% of the time, the people you're condemning won't even see your post, only your supporters, and the ones who know NOT to behave like that. So if you see it first hand, why don't you take the time to address that directly, rather than creating a post calling it out to others who had nothing to do with it. It will just cause an uproar and unnecessary drama, which you are definitely all too familiar with. 2/2

I appreciate your honesty!

I have rarely, rarely ever addressed anything regarding this fic—and the times I have or that I’ve hinted at what I’ve experienced as a writer as a result of this fic, I’ve always specified that it is not the author’s fault that their readers are comparing fics and putting it on a pedestal. I heard about what the author posted and it absolutely breaks my heart. I would never wish that on anyone and I’m so happy that they’re having the success that they are!

All I wanted to do today was share my experience with something that happened and has happened before about people explicitly going to my story and commenting something basically telling me that I was second-best to another story. It doesn’t matter if that story’s the most popular one in the fandom or the least popular one—it’s still wrong and hurtful to say such a thing. I could never, EVER be ungrateful for the success I’ve already have! I thank God every day for the way Security and my other pieces have been received and I don’t take anything for granted.

But as this is my safe space, I do reserve a right to speak out if something hurtful has happened to me. I could never put responsibility on the writer for this—and I truly wish her all the best; I’ve heard her and this story are incredible! I personally can’t read it because I don’t read sm*t. As far as I remember, I didn’t even create a post about this specific story/author today. All I did was share a comment I received about one story to another blog. That’s not including the time when people asked me to use the endearment “sweet girl” in at least three different Din fics in the summer although I was completely unaware it was a thing that was iconic to a certain story. When I realized that, I felt so hurt. I don’t want to create drama, I cannot stand drama—like you said, I unfortunately know it well thanks to what people have put me through. But I also shouldn’t be scared to share my experiences.

If it came across as me trying to name names and throw blame and shade, that wasn’t my intention! I don’t like comparisons with any fic, and if that’s ever happened with mine, I would be absolutely heartbroken to hear it—and would like to speak out about it!

But I appreciate your honesty and your accountability, thank you for sharing!

#discourse #writing #accountability #you have spoken

[libsterslobsters]

Celebration Day

Summary: Bucky and the Reader's long-awaited wedding day is just around the corner. The only trouble is, with Pepper Potts serving as wedding planner, it's a little more elaborate than either of them had imagined. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands and create your perfect out of what's around you.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced!Reader

(Reader sees bits and pieces of the future at random, understands all languages, and is also a super soldier)

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Author's note: As always, the reader's name is never mentioned so that this can be read as a self-insert, but when I write this character, I imagine her as a Violet. Also, the song at the end of the fic can be anything you like, but I wrote it with Unforgettable by Nat King Cole in mind.

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

“Whoa.” Bucky doesn’t say anything, but as he takes in the huge stone building that, according to Pepper, they’ll be getting married at in two weeks’ time, he’s almost certain his eyes have gone as big as his fiancee’s. What the actual fuck? They could fit a small army inside this place.

“Is this the right place?” He’s half-way hoping she’ll say no, it was a big joke, but with a grimace, she nods.

“That is, if she sent us the right address. If not, it’s pretty remote here….” She trails off, biting at her lip.

“Does Pepper know that between the two of us, we can count the number of people we call friends on our fingers-”

“And the ones we’d actually want around to watch us make a life-long commitment to each other is even smaller? Yeah, I mentioned it.”

That’s what he was afraid of. Despite having been through some of the most intense situations known to man (fighting Thanos, anyone?), as he pulls the door closed behind him, his palm starts to sweat. Logically, he knew giving Pepper the go ahead to plan as she saw fit without any input from either of them (she did insist on footing the bill after all, so being particular would be ungrateful) meant that things would get more elaborate than he’d feel comfortable with, but this is completely out of hand.

“I’m starting to think that waiting until two weeks before the day of to take a look at things may have been a mistake.”

He chooses not to add his two cents to that (a fucking huge one, on both their parts). It turns out to be the right decision because, a huge bouquet of… are those lilies… in her hands, Pepper emerges from a side door.

“Good, you both found the place.” Yeah, it was kinda hard to miss. It’s a literal castle! “Isn’t it just beautiful?” The high-powered executive is gushing in a way that’s usually reserved for the first time seeing a great work of nature, like the Grand Canyon or possibly Niagara Falls. Not… whatever the hell this is.

“It’s very eye-catching.” The grip on his hand increases to where it’s almost painful, and he glances over at her. “Right?” In other words, don’t just stand there. Say something.

“Yeah. It’s…” Huge. Kind of reminds him of a medieval palace that would have a secret torture chamber down bellow. Decadent, but not in the “This is really great chocolate cake” kind of way. “...really something.” If that look is anything to judge from, he’s definitely in the dog house tonight… which, oddly enough, means the dog will probably spend the night cuddled up to her on his side of the bed.

Fortunately, Pepper seems not to have noticed that he’s less than enthusiastic about her choice of venue (either that, or she’s assumed that ‘vaguely unsociable’ is just his natural state), because she beams at the woman on his arm.

“Of course, it’ll look much different the day of. There will be floral arrangements in every window and…” She goes on, but he’s stopped listening, too busy trying to calculate how many people can fit in this auditorium alone.

“Any questions?” Pepper peers between both of them. He should really read the room and say no thanks, it all sounds great, but he actually is wondering about something.

“Yeah, I have one. What’s the final tally on the guest list looking like?”

“We’re standing at around 500.” 500… does he even know that many people? Scratch that; between the two of them, do THEY know that many people?

“Wow.” He glances at the woman next to him. Yeah, that’s a fake smile if he’s ever seen one. “That’s quite a turn-out.”

Pepper says something else, but he doesn’t hear it past the buzzing in his ears. It’s only when he feels a tug on his hand that he realizes they’re supposed to follow Stark’s widow out of the room.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, she turns to him, wearing a worried frown. “You okay there, Buck?”

He nods. “Yeah, but is it too late to go with your idea? Just go to the courthouse and sign a paper?”

She sighs, a rueful smile on her face. “I think that ship has sailed. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” She deserves the best, and if Pepper has anything to do with it, this wedding will be just that. He can deal with it. It’s just for a few hours, after all.

“Does this mean I get to pull out the ‘I told you so’?” It’s a joke, meant to lighten the mood. He knows this, so he takes the bait.

“Yeah, Doll. You get a free pass.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

“How’s it coming?” She’s honestly not sure how to answer Shuri’s question. In traditional “Say Yes To The Dress” fashion, her female friends are all gathered outside the dressing room doors waiting for her to step out in the gown Pepper had designed specifically for her. The only trouble is, she’s never felt more out-of-place in her life.

It’s a beautiful dress, highlighting every single positive aspect of her body. The shade of ivory works well with her skin tone, and the material is cool against her skin. She looks exactly like a picture from a bridal magazine with her hair still styled from a trial run of that and makeup earlier today. Perfect… but not like herself.

Shaking her head, she tells herself she’s just not used to looking so formal, and pushes open the door.

Wanda, Morgan, Nakia and Shuri make appropriate noises of approval as she steps into the room. Pepper is smiling, a hand pressed to her mouth and tears rolling down her face. Only Okoye looks less than pleased.

“You look so fierce.” Shuri informs her, rushing forward to adjust her train.

“A total knockout.” Nakia nods.

“You look like a doll!” She chuckles at the four-year-old’s exclamation. It’s very sweet, probably the best compliment she’s ever gotten. Plus, she’s starting to feel like a doll.

“Okoye?” The general eyes her up and down, expression unchanging.

“How are you planning to fight in that dress?”

Wanda and Pepper freeze, unsure of how to react, but Nakia laughs and Shuri rolls her eyes.

“It’s her wedding day, General. She isn’t fighting anyone.” Shuri exclaims between giggles.

“This is an American wedding. The most physical thing they do is dance.” Nakia adds.

“Until the wedding night, that is.” And now she’s trying not to snicker at the princess’s innuendo.

The rest of the appointment is a blur. A tailor checks and rechecks the measurements, pinning up whatever he deems too long or large, letting out anything too constricting. Girl talk ensues and the champagne flows. By the time they go their separate ways, each with a bridesmaid’s (or in Morgan’s case, flower girl) dress in their possession, she’s the only one who’s not at least slightly buzzed.

She should really head home. It’s late in the afternoon, and she’s still got papers to grade. However, she finds herself driving in the opposite direction of where she lives. After today, she needs some time to herself, away from anyone else and the possibility of unintentionally seeing their future.

At a red light, she stops and dictates a voice-to-text message, informing Barnes that, “It’s going to be a late one. Stopping by a few places on the way home. Let me know if you want me to pick up something.” The reply comes thirty seconds later. “Take your time. Text me when you’re on your way. Stay safe.” This wedding may not be exactly what she’d pick for herself, but the man she gets to spend the rest of her life alongside certainly is.

She drives aimlessly for a while, no destination in mind. Finally, she decides that while she’s out, she may as well kill two birds with one stone. Pepper mentioned that they’re still lacking the “something old” from ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue’. She considered joking that the groom is over a century old so they’ve got that covered, but as an antique store appears on her right, she decides to go in and see if anything catches her eye.

A bell rings as soon as she steps inside, and although she can’t see anyone, a voice calls out from the center of the store to, “Shout if you need anything.” It’s a hodgepodge of various items, most in disrepair, all covered in a blanket of dust. She comes across a coin in the display counter minted in 1917 and is about to ask if she can get a closer look at it (there’s something about a sixpence in a shoe if she’s remembering correctly), but that’s when she sees it.

The wedding dress is clearly vintage, more than likely an original. As she takes a closer look at the tag, she sees that it reads “hand sewn, 1942”. The price is marked $25 dollars, a good deal even if it were in disrepair. Instead, she can’t find a thing wrong with it. It’s almost as if someone unearthed this in the back of a closet, perfectly preserved, and thought, “Here’s a way to make a quick buck.” For a moment, she allows herself to dream of how she’d look in it, but as the salesperson appears, she pushes that daydream to the side.

“May I see the nickel from 1917, please?”

With one last longing look at the dress, she pays for her purchase, and leaves the store behind.

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s not unusual for him to have nightmares. Most times, he can tell that what’s going on around him is a dream, not real life, and wake himself up. Not tonight, however. It all feels too real, not one of his usual dreamscapes, so that he’s stuck reliving a scene from earlier in the day.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Coming out of the pet store on his way home with a few bags of dog food (not to mention more toys than the mutt really needs because, despite himself, he’s a sucker for their tripod of a dog), he got recognized. There was the flash of a picture being taken to his right, and when he turned, a man holding a smartphone asked, “Hey, you’re that Winter Solder guy, aren’t you?” In reality, he pretended not to have heard and kept walking, and that was the end of it. In his dream, he’s driven all the way home, only to be cornered as he’s stepping out of his car and activated by HYDRA.

“Longing-”

“Stop.”

“-rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak-”

“Not again. Please.”

“-furnace. Nine. Benign-” As the HYDRA agent speaks, he realizes that she’s in the room with him. Oh no.

“Get out of here! Run!” He tries to warn her, but she just smiles at him, and although he can’t hear what she’s saying, he can see her lips forming the words, “I love you.”

“-One. Freight Car.”

“No!” He bolts upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. It’s only when the chill of the night air makes him shiver that he realizes it was just a dream.

“Whoa.” He’s still trying to catch his breath when he feels her hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay, Bucky. Take some deep breaths. That’s it.” He used to be embarrassed whenever this would happen, especially if he managed to wake her up in the process. But since Thanos, all of that has gone by the wayside, and it’s a common occurrence for her to wake up screaming and flailing also.

Practice makes perfect, so it’s only a few moments before his breathing returns to normal and he feels his heart regain it’s rhythm. He turns to her to apologize, but stops short.

“You were already awake.” She nods.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. My mind’s too busy.”

“Busy with what?” As he asks it, he settled back into bed, turning on his side to face her.

“Are we just gonna ignore that you had a nightmare?” He nods

“For now, yeah. It’s still too fresh.” A look of understanding settles on her face. He’s eternally grateful that she’s not one to push him into talking before he’s ready.

“I can’t stop thinking about the fucking wedding.” He snickers at her profanity. “Five hundred people, Buck. Five hundred! I don’t even know that many people, much less like them.” It’s like she’s read his mind.

“All of them staring at us…” She shudders. “It’s silly, but what if I have a vision and instead of saying “I Do” I say, ‘Watch your head!’ or something else just as stupid?”

“Then you’ll be doing better than me.” Her brow furrows in confusion. “I keep having this recurring dream that we get around to the vows and I forget how to talk. Then I look down and realize I’m not wearing pants.” That reminds him… “You still haven’t told me how trying on the dress went.”

She sighs.

“It was an experience.” That can’t be good.

“Didn’t it fit?”

“Oh, it fit.” She nods. “Like a glove.” Then what’s the problem? “It’s a beautiful dress, and I really appreciate all the effort Pepper put into it, but…” Oh. Now he thinks he understands.

“It’s not quite what you imagined.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“No, but then again, I never imagined my wedding dress because I never imagined getting married.”

“But you still want to, right?” He shouldn’t ask that, but there’s a niggling fear at the back of his mind that she’s realized she doesn’t want to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives.

“Of course I do.” They’re facing each other, crumpled sheets between then, and she reaches out to caress his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Barnes, nightmare wedding or not.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the air vents circulating a cool breeze through the bedroom. Then she asks,

“Did you ever imagine it? A wedding or getting married?” It’s not something he’d easily admit to most people, but he nods.

“Yeah, I did. Back before the war.”

“Tell me about it.” She closes her eyes, and he can’t help but feel a slight wave of excitement that he gets to see her like this forever.

“It wasn’t like I spent a lot of time daydreaming about it, but…” It was just one of those natural things, a given in life; you get a job, find a girl, get married, and settle down to have a houseful of kids. When the war started, he saw so many of his friends go ahead and tie the knot with their girls before they shipped out, and he took it for granted that one day, he’d do the same thing.

“I guess I figured on having Steve there, standing up with me.” Of course, now Steve is an old man, physically as well as chronologically. He’ll be there of course. Even serve as the best man. However, it looks a little different than he imagined. “It’d probably be small, because we weren’t dirt poor, but we weren’t exactly rich either. Friends and family.” She nods, eyelids still lowered. “Didn’t put much thought into decorations or clothes, but I imagined walking out with her on my arm, whoever the girl ended up being-” Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a woman as incredible as this. “-and dancing together after it, then heading back to our house, just the two of us.”

“It sounds-” She yawns, and he knows she’s nearly asleep. “-perfect.”

It does to him too, but over time, things change. Even if it sounds nice, a 1940’s shindig probably wouldn’t cut it in today’s busy world with it’s easy access to perfection. Still, a huge chunk of him wishes he could just steal her away and make their promises to each other in private. That makes him wonder: what did it look like when Steve and Peggy got hitched? He supposes he can ask soon enough. Steve’s arriving tomorrow after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You need any help in there?” Steve thinks about shooting back that he may be old (well, ancient is probably more accurate at this stage) but he can still manage to put on his pants without help, thanks. Instead he just answers,

“Nope. Just giving you a few extra minutes to primp before I come out and embarrass you by pulling off this suit better than you do.” As he pulls on his jacket, he hears Bucky laugh.

“Whatever you say, punk.”

He’s lived a full life, made plenty of other friends. However, he still hasn’t clicked the same way he does with the jerk from Brooklyn, even if said jerk is now seventy years younger than him.

“Alright, I’m done making myself pretty. Get out here, old man.” Chuckling, he pushes open the changing room door and joins Sam and Bucky.

“I don’t know what you two are bragging about.” Sam grins and straightens his tie. “Clearly I’m the best looking person here even without being hopped up on super soldier mojo.”

Bucky fakes a frown and elbows Sam.

“Remind me again why you’re invited to my wedding?”

“Because the bride likes me.”

“No accounting for taste.”

“Clearly, since she’s marrying you.”

Even though it’s obviously a joke, Steve internally winces. He’s already half-way expecting to talk Bucky down off the ledge at least three times in the next two days, convince him that yes you you are good enough for this girl, no I don’t think she’s making a mistake entrusting her future to you. Back in the day, he was the shy one with a lack of self-confidence. After everything HYDRA did, it’s his best friend who believes he’s unworthy of a second chance at life.

However, throughout most of the morning, there’s absolutely no sign of the impending breakdown. Steve’s nearly convinced that he’s guessed wrong, that there won’t be any fires to put out when, on the drive back to his hotel room, it happens.

“Can I ask you something?” He can’t really read his best friend’s facial expression since the other man is driving, facing straight ahead, but if the tension in body language is anything to judge from, this isn’t going to be a casual conversation.

“Sure.”

“Were you nervous before you and Peggy tied the knot?”

He nods.

“More like scared shitless.” It wasn’t the fact that, for the rest of their lives, they would be tied together, not just emotionally but legally as well. If anything, he was nearly giddy with excitement over that part. “All those people with their eyes on you and your dearly beloved? Don’t tell anyone, but five minutes before I had to be in place, I was in the bathroom losing my lunch.” Bucky snickers, and even he chuckles at the memory. “But I got through it because it was her. She was what I wanted at the end of the day. I would’ve gone through with it in front of a million people or in a broom closet. It didn’t matter. Everything except Peg was just trappings.”

Neither of them say anything else for the rest of the trip. On Steve’s part, he’s mentally reliving the day he married Peggy Carter through his memories. In fact, he’s so busy reminiscing that he doesn’t realize the car has stopped moving and they’re parked outside the hotel until his name is called for what must be at least the third time.

“Sorry.” He smiles apologetically. “It’s just a side affect of getting old: you spend a lot of time stuck in the past and forget about the present.”

“It’s okay.”

He reaches to open his door, but before he can-

“Do you have anything going this afternoon? Maybe need to take a nap or something?” This time, he doesn’t swallow down the sarcastic comment that springs to mind.

“Yeah, right after I finish rubbing liniment on my joints, I’m gonna go down to the old folks’ home and play bingo, maybe yell at some kids to get off my lawn. That is, unless you have something else in mind.”

“Well, I was gonna go interrupt my girl’s day and ask her if she’d go down to the courthouse and elope with me since we’re both dreading the trappings, but it sounds like you’re busy, so…”

It’ll smart later, but he tags the back of his best friend’s head.

“Go get your girl, jerk. Just tell me when and where to meet you.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a nap?”

“Respect your elders!”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s elbow deep in clothing (when the hell did they acquire that many tshirts between them), attempting to make a dent in the number of things they still have to pack before next week’s move-in date, when she hears the apartment door open. That’s weird. He’s not supposed to be home until later in the day. It’s unnecessary, a reflex at this point, but she feels for the hidden knife she still keeps on her at nearly all times. It’s most likely not an intruder, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

The funny thing about living with someone is that the little things about them, details you never forced yourself to pay attention to, become ingrained in your memory without you realizing it. In this case, she recognizes the speed and heaviness of the footfalls, and that’s what makes her lower her guard.

“In the bedroom.” He hasn’t asked, but it’ll save him from looking through each room that comes before this one. And, if he’s home this early, they’ll probably have something to discuss.

“Hey.”

As she repeats the greeting back to him, she studies his expression. A smile, small but genuine. Also… nervous? That’s strange. She’s gotten good at reading the tiny tells that are still there behind the perfect, unflappable mask, but usually it takes her a lot longer to crack the code. Something major is going on.

“How’s the packing coming?” As he asks, he picks up a shirt (one of his, although it’s not folded) and tosses it into a box.

“It’s coming along fine. Do you want to talk about it some more or dive into why you’re home so early?”

“That depends. Do you already know what I’m gonna say?”

She shakes her head. No visions so far, at least not about this.

“Then I guess I’d better quit stalling.” That doesn’t sound good. “So, about the wedding.” For a moment, she’s worried he’s calling it off, that he’s decided he’d rather not spend the rest of his life with her. But if that were the case, wouldn’t he have mentioned it last night when they were both lying there unable to sleep, discussing things? “Is it safe to say we’re both dreading it? Not what comes after, but the part where five hundred of our closest friends stare at us?”

Her lips curl into a smirk.

“You could say that.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe there’s a way to avoid it and still get the job done. Something more like what we talked about last night. You were awake for that part, right?”

Barely. In fact, she remembers her final thought before drifting off being, “I wish we could do things that way.” Still…

“Pepper’s put so much effort in. People are traveling, have already made arrangements-”

“So we still show up on Saturday, but behind the scenes, we would’ve already made things official. Maybe gone to the courthouse like you wanted to, just us and Steve? One other person if you had anyone in mind, since there need to be two witnesses?” It’s an appealing idea. The marriage license is still sitting on the kitchen table, waiting for them to sign on the day of. In theory, all they need to do is make an appointment and show up with their two witnesses. In practice…

“Hypothetically speaking, when would we be doing this?” Immediately, the small sign of nervousness melts from his face.

“This afternoon at four thirty, since that’s the only time before Saturday they had available. Hypothetically.”

She pretends to think about it, but can’t hide the smile that sneaks across her face.

“Then it’s a yes.” Now they’re both smiling like idiots. Taking his offered hand, she rights herself and circles her arms around his neck.

“So we’re really doing this, huh?” His arms wrap around her, and now they’re so close, she can feel his heart beating.

“Looks that way.” She leans up, closing the gap between them and presses her lips against his.

It’s tempting to just stand there, making out like teenagers, but eventually, she has to back away. It’s comical how startled he looks (that and slightly flustered).

“I’ve gotta get out of here.”

“What?”

She snickers. “I don’t know much about weddings, but I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to see me ahead of time. Bad luck and all.”

“Wouldn’t want to risk that.” With one last peck, he lets her go. “Do you want me to head out and give you the apartment, or-”

“No, you stay. I actually have some errands to run.” Not saying another word (otherwise, she’ll end up gushing about how she can’t to start their life together), she grabs her keys from the nightstand and heads towards the door.

Once she’s in the car, a memory from the other day of that 1940s wedding dress sitting in an antique store comes back to her. There wasn’t a size on the label, and the material might be too fragile for her to even get it on her body. But it was so… perfect. It’s decided: she’s going in search of it. If it fits her, yay! If it doesn’t work out, she’s still got enough time to stop in at a department store and purchase something else.

The whole thing is slightly absurd. She peals into the antique store and, after eyeballing the dress, purchases it without so much as trying it on. Then, stopping at a fast food place, she undresses in a bathroom stall and pulls on the dress. The material is slightly musty from all the years of disuse, but it goes on easily. As she peers at herself in the bathroom mirror, a giggle rises from deep inside her. For the first time in this whole process, she feels like a bride.

She’s still dressed in the vintage white gown when she steps inside the first florist’s shop she comes across The woman behind the counter gives her a strange look, but doesn’t ask any questions as she sells her the simple bouquet of violets with a few pieces of greenery. She knows she must look odd, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s flying too high. Maybe that’s the reason why, as she puts the finishing touches on her makeup, still in her car, she tucks a few of the flowers into her hair. There. That’s better.

She spots his car in the parking lot, so she knows he’s already there. That’s when the nerves hit her. This is it. They’re actually doing this. After today they won’t just be to people sharing an apartment (among other things); they’ll be husband and wife. She’s ready. God, is she ready. But the enormity of it is intimidating. What if she’s not a good wife? What if he’s expecting her to be the perfect domestic goddess (that’s absurd, she knows, but rationality just flew out the window)? Or on a more practical level, what if he doesn’t like how she looks? There’s only one way to find out. Slowly, hands shaking, she pulls open the courthouse door.

Steve’s waiting for her just inside the building. Apparently, he takes traditions very seriously, because when she asks where Bucky is, he just shakes his head. “He’s here, but you’re not gonna see him until you’re in the room, about to sign the paperwork.” She’s not going to fight it (after all, she’s the one who brought up separating in the first place), but she does still have a question.

“Steve, can I ask you for a massive favor?”

“Sure.” Here it goes.

“I know there’s not a real aisle, but would you walk me inside?” He may be seventy years older than he was when she met him, but the smile is still the same.

“Yeah. I’d be honored to do it.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s not sure what the connection is between being so nervous you’re ready to climb the walls and the urge to pace, but regardless, that’s what he’s doing. The clock in the office where he’ll be exchanging vows with the woman he loves more than he ever thought was possible reads four twenty-nine. One minute left, give or take. One minute, and then the rest of his life begins.

The seconds hand seems to move incredibly slowly, but finally, it reaches it’s destination. On cue, the door opens, and all the breath leaves his lungs. Here she is.

It’s not the way he’d imagined it as a kid. Steve’s not at his side. He’s considerably older, rougher around the edges. They’re in a courthouse instead of a church. But as a kid, he also didn’t imagine anything that can compare to her.

It goes without saying that she’s beautiful; that’s always the case. But all the old stories are true: there’s something about seeing her in a white dress walking towards him just before they promise to love, honor, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives that makes her shine like never before. She’s not just beautiful. She’s brilliant.

“Hey.” Right. He need to say something.

“Hey. You made it.”

She chuckles and pushes back a stray tendril.

“Yeah, well I had a date I was really excited for, so I rearranged my schedule.”

Before he can say anything else (he’s not sure what, because frankly, all thoughts except “I love you” have disappeared), the door opens and a man in a business suit sticks his head out.

“Is everyone here?”

He looks at her for confirmation.

“Everyone that needs to be.”

“Then right this way.”

He’s not aware of much that is said during the ceremony after they join hands, too busy memorizing what she looks like so he’ll never forget. This is definitely one of those moments you want to carry with you the rest of your life.

They stick to the standard vows. He takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife to have and hold from this day forward, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish ‘til death do them part, and vise versa. As he slips the ring on her finger, he catches her eye and mouths a silent, “I love you.”, which she repeats back as she slides on his wedding band.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” That’s it. This is real. They’re married. “You may kiss the bride.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

After the paperwork is signed, they agree to go and have dinner. Steve’s come all this way, and something seems right about celebrating with his oldest friend. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead to make a reservation so, still dressed in their formal clothes, they slide into a corner booth at a local diner. Nothing important is said; it’s mostly laughter and inside jokes between a group of friends. By seven o’clock, he’s dropped Steve off at his hotel and is on his way back home.

The apartment is mostly packed up at this point. The only things left are their clothes, a few kitchen and bathroom essentials, and their bed. Even the record player she gave him as a birthday gift has been shipped off to the townhouse they’ll officially move into sometime next week. But, he thinks to himself as he lets himself in, the great thing about going to sleep in 1945 and waking up in the 2000s is that while his taste in music may not have evolved by much, technology has. Which means-

“Hey, stranger.” She’s still wearing the dress, their dog sitting next to her on the bed with his head in her lap. It would be a crime to let that go to waste.

“Come here.” He motions for her to join him, and as soon as she stands, starts scrolling through is phone.

“What are you doing?” The confusion melts from her face as the first few notes of the song fill the room.

Holding out his hand, he asks, “May I have this dance?”

A soft smile crosses her face as, nodding, she folds herself into his arms.

“You can have every dance.”

Two days from now, they’ll stand in front of five hundred people, most of whom they've never met before, and make their vows once again. It'll be uncomfortable and even a little jarring, but it won’t matter. Steve's right: it’s all trappings. What’s real is now; the beautiful woman in his arms, his wife, and the life they’ll build together. It’s not what Bucky imagined all those years ago as a naïve kid in Brooklyn. This is far better.

#marvel #avengers #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #captain america #fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic