#bittersweet liquorice

[joseline-woodhouse]

I hate studying and I hate preparing for assessment centres.

Oversteeped jasmin tea and salty liquorice are what keeps me running right now.

Sweet enough to be a treat while bitter and salty enough to match my mood.

[angelicglib]

‧₊✩ Christmas Comfort ✩₊‧

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 28/12/23)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

[angelicglibsss]

Christmas Comfort

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] [ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 [ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve. 

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground. 

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.  

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces? 

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one. 

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better. 

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention. 

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice. 

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’ 

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. 

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before. 

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces.  ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours. 

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul. 

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him. 

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen. 

All of it can wait. But he can’t. 

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him. 

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips. 

Mum &lt;3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type. 

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least. 

--

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’ 

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade. 

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side. 

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’ 

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath. 

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’ 

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows. 

Two goldfish are in a tank… 

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you. 

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,’ he confesses. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’ 

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

[feytouched]

scent of the day: lolita lempicka (lolita lempicka)

lolita lempicka is the platonic ideal of a whimsigoth fragrance. when i spray it on it's all salty liquorice and cherry for a couple of minutes, then the liquorice recedes and lets a dry, rustling ivy leaf note come to the forefront. in the house i grew up in there was a garden wall covered with ivy; it reminds me of playing beneath those leaves - until the star anise, tonka and vetiver eventually overtake it, now conjuring the atmosphere of a witchy shop. the cherry note lingers as the scent develops, syrupy but unsweet. the scent as a whole is bittersweet at most, but mainly powdery and spiced.

i can see how the powderiness of this scent, which reminds me a little of vintage velvet plus baby wipes, might be a dealbreaker for some. even for myself (known powdery fragrance enjoyer) it's not necessarily an everyday scent, but i'm still kind of charmed by it. lolita lempicka makes me want to watch the craft and go on a walk through the woods in autumn and maybe step off into the world of faerie. the toffee-like praline that finally appears when the fragrance is warmed by breath or sweat is almost like a candy lure to draw you into an enchanted woodland, where you will be irretrievably lost. the liquorice and spice keep it edgy; a fae creation with sharp teeth.

[lingpaopao]

. ݁₊ ⊹ 🍭🍨 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘺 🍧🍰 . ݁˖

// Candy // Cotton candy ~ 棉花糖 (miánhuātáng) Note: 'marshmallow' has the same name as cotton candy in Chinese Gummy ~ 软糖 (ruǎntáng) Lollipop ~ 棒棒糖 (bàngbàngtáng) Fudge ~ 乳脂软糖 (rǔzhī ruǎntáng) Caramel ~ 焦糖 (jiāotáng) Jellybean ~ 果冻豆 (guǒdòng dòu) Toffee ~ 太妃糖 (tàifēi táng) Liquorice ~ 甘草 (gāncǎo) // Baked Sweets // Cupcake ~ 杯子蛋糕 (bēizi dàngāo) Brownie ~ 布朗尼 (bùlǎngní) Sponge cake ~ 海绵蛋糕 (hǎimián dàngāo) Lava cake ~ 熔岩蛋糕 (Róngyán dàngāo) Black forest cake ~ 黑森林蛋糕 (hēisēnlín dàngāo) Cheesecake ~ 乳酪蛋糕 (rǔlào dàngāo) Tiramisu ~ 提拉米苏 (tílāmǐsū) Scone ~ 司康 (sīkāng) Macaron ~ 马卡龙 (mǎkǎlóng) Waffle ~ 华夫饼 (huáfū bǐng) Tart ~ 塔 (tǎ) Crepe ~ 可丽饼 (kělì bǐng) Pie ~ 派 (pài) Chocolate chip cookie ~ 巧克力碎片饼干 (qiǎokèlì suìpiàn bǐnggān) Donut ~ 甜甜圈 (tiántiánquān) Brulee ~ 烤布蕾 (kǎo bùlěi) Creampie ~ 奶油派 (nǎiyóu pài) Cinnamon bun ~ 肉桂卷 (ròuguì juǎn) Gingerbread ~ 姜饼 (jiāngbǐng) Red velvet cake ~ 红色天鹅绒蛋糕 (hóngsè tiān'é'rónghuá dàngāo) // Frozen Desserts // Sherbet ~ 雪葩 (xuěpā) Gelato ~ 吉拉朵 (jílāduǒ) Sundae ~ 圣代 (shèngdài) Shaved ice ~ 刨冰 (bàobīng) Ice cream ~ 冰激凌 (bīngjīlíng) Note: another common name is 冰淇淋 (bīngqílín). Popsicle ~ 冰棍儿 (bīnggùn'er) // Misc. // Custard ~ 奶黄 (nǎihuáng) Puff ~ 泡芙 (pàofú) Popcorn ~ 爆米花 (bàomǐhuā) Milkshake ~ 奶昔 (nǎixī) Jello ~ 果冻 (guǒdòng) Oreo ~ 奥利奥 (àolì'ào) // Common Asian Desserts // Mochi ~ 麻糬 (máshǔ) Tanghulu ~ 糖葫芦 (tánghúlu) Black sesame soup ~ 黑芝麻糊 (hēi zhīma hú) Swallow's nest ~ 燕窝 (yànwō) Sago pudding ~ 西米布丁 (xīmǐ bùdīng) Snow fungus soup ~ 雪耳糖水 (xuě'ěr tángshuǐ) Osmanthus Jelly ~ 桂花糕 (guìhuā gāo) Grass jelly ~ 仙草 (xiāncǎo) // Example Text // https://www.sohu.com/a/443013219_120949919

口味最“奇怪”的4种糖果 -> the four candies with the strangest flavours.

1、星空棒棒糖 -> planet lollipops

星空棒棒糖有名的高颜值糖果，大部分的女生都有买过，或是男生情人节买来送女朋友都有了解过。-> Planet lollipops are popular for their appearance, lots of women have already purchased them before, or men who, on Valentine's day gifted it to their girlfriends, have understood. 它的味道你尝过后就会觉得“这是什么沙雕玩意儿，我吃了塑料吗？”，有这种感觉并不奇怪，星空棒棒糖大部分都是甜苦甜苦的味道，有些还带着塑料的气味，吃完就怀疑人生，估计这个糖果也就只能当做摆设。-> After tasting its flavour, you will think: "what is this sand sculpture-like thing, am I eating plastic?" Having this kind of feeling isn't exactly strange, planetary lollipop largely have a bittersweet flavour, some lollipops even have a plastic odour, after eating it, you'll question your life, seems like this kind of candy is only used for decoration.

2、榴莲糖 -> durian candy

...打开包装就是浓浓的榴莲味，吃到嘴里就感觉是三里往外都是这个榴莲味 -> upon opening the package are the dense/strong durian smells, eating them makes you feel that the durian smell is everywhere within a 3 mile radius.

3、姜汁糖 -> ginger candy

姜汁糖里面就是有大量的姜味，吃的第一口还是上面糖味，含一会后姜味就显露出来了，你会有一种姜辣的感觉，一直猛吸气想要减少这个辣味，没想到后面越吃越辣，让人有点受不了，吃到一半就吐了，这种一般都是家里的老人才会买，老人很喜欢这种甜辣的感觉，甚至吃起来还想喝一两口小酒。-> Within ginger candy is a considerable amount of ginger flavour, after eating the first bite, the first taste is sweet, after sucking on it for a bit, the ginger flavour will come out and you get have a spicy ginger feeling. Keep inhaling sharply, wanting to reduce this spiciness, not knowing that more and more spiciness will follow, intolerable, spat it out halfway through, this kind of candy will typically be bought by a family's older individuals, elders really like this kind of spicy-sweet feel, to the point of also wanting to drink a couple gulps of liquor.

世界上最好吃的十种甜点，吃过六种，算我服！-> 10 of the world's most delicious desserts, eaten 6 types, count me in!

1、布朗尼蛋糕--美国 -> Brownie--America

布朗尼蛋糕属于重油蛋糕的一种，但它和一般重油蛋糕的区别在于通常较薄且较结实，不像普通蛋糕那样松松的, 而且一定是巧克力口味 -> Brownies are considered a type of pound cakes, but they are different from regular pound cakes in that they are usually on the thinner and sturdier side, unlike the regular cakes which are fluffier, and brownies need a chocolate flavour.

2、提拉米苏--意大利 -> Tiramisu--Italy

提拉米苏是一种带咖啡酒味儿的意大利甜点 -> tiramisu is a type of coffee-flavour containing Italian dessert.

10、乳酪蛋糕--阿拉伯 -> Cheesecake--Arabic

这类蛋糕介于蛋糕和甜点之间，因而越来越受人关注 -> this type of cake is a cross between cakes and desserts, and because of this, more and more people have given it attention.

[scriptflorist]

What flower would be associated with forbidden, painful love? Like the obsessive crush of an older sister for her brother, and that she feels envy and sadism towards his potential romantic interests.

Hi subyss-chan,

That’s a question well within the realms of flower language and very much something tumblr likes to argue about for entirely different reasons. Anyone who has made it this far in the ask, please don’t argue on this post. The subject of forbidden, painful, even obsessive love is nothing this type of relationship has a monopoly on, and the following list will be able to help many more stories than just this one.

acacia – secret love, platonic love, friendship

acalia – temperance

achillea millefolium – war

alstroemeria – security

almond (blossom) – indiscretion

almond (flowering) – hope

almond (laurel) – perfidy

anemone – forsaken, frailty

anthericum – antidote

apocynum – deceit

apple – temptation

arum (fly-catching) – snare

asphodel – my regrets follow you to the grave

azalea – temperance, romance, fragile and ephemeral passion, take care, fragile, passion

balsam of peru – cure

basil – hatred

belvedere – I declare against you

berberry – sharpness of temper, sourness of temper, sharpness, sourness, petulance

bilberry – treachery

bindweed (great) – insinuation, importunity

bird cherry – perfidy, hope

bittersweet nightshade – truth

bittersweet – truth

blackberry – envy

bladder nut tree – frivolous amusement, frivolity, amusement

bramble – lowliness, envy, remorse

cacalia – adulation

carnation – alas! for my poor heart, pride, disdain

carnation (red) – my heart breaks, my heart aches for you, admiration

catchfly – snare

catchfly (red) – youthful love, I fall victim

chrysanthemum (red) – I love.

chrysanthemum (white) – truth

chrysanthemum (yellow) – a heart left to desolation, slighted love

clover (four-leaf) – be mine

convolvulus – bonds, uncertainty

convolvulus (major) – extinguished hopes

cranberry – cure for (the) heartache, hardiness

daphane (winter) – I would not have you otherwise

goat’s rue – reason

hair moss – secret

heart’s ease (purple) – secret

heather (lavender) – admiration, solitude

hellebore – scandal, calumny

hemlock – you will be my death

honeyflower – speak low if you speak love, love sweet and secret, sweet, secret love, generous affection, sweetness of disposition

honeysuckle (coral) – the colour of my fate

honeysuckle (wild) – generous and devoted

ice plant – your looks freeze me, rejected addresses, frigidity

ivy (tendril and bouquet) – “may I”, “I desire”

jasmine (indian) – I attach myself to you, attachment, separation

jonquil – I desire a return of affection, desire, affection returned, love me, sympathy

laurel (common flower) – perfidy

lily of the valley – the heart withering in secret, return of happiness, modesty, tears of the virgin Mary, happiness, humility

lint – I feel my obligations

liquorice (wild) – I declare against you

lobelia – malevolence, arrogance

love-lies-bleeding – hopeless (but) not heartless, deserted love, desertion

lungwort – you are my life

marigold (french) – jealousy

mezereon – desire to please, coquetry

milfoil – war

milk vetch – your presence softens my pains

motherwort – concealed love, secret love

myrobalan – privation, bereavement

narcissus (false) – delusive hope

nettle – you are spiteful., cruelty, slander

nightshade – dark thoughts, truth, falsehood, scepticism

peach blossom – I am your captive

pear – affection

pine (spruce) – hope in adversity, farewell!

pink (yellow) – unreasonableness, disdain

polyanthus (crimson) – the heart’s mystery

potentilla – I claim at least your esteem

pride of china – dissension

quince – temptation

reed (split) – indiscretion

rocket – rivalry

rose (campion) – only deserve my love

rose (carolina) – love is dangerous

rose daily/rosa quotidians – thy smile I aspire to

rose (maiden blush) – if you love me/it you will find it out

rose (moss) – confession of love, pleasure without alloy, superior merit, voluptuous love

rue (wild) – manners, morals

shepherd’s purse – I offer you my all.

siphocampylus – resolved to be noticed.

spindle tree – your charms are engraven on my heart

spurge laurel – desire to please, coquetry

sunflower (dwarf) – your devout adorer, adoration

swallow-wort – cure for (the) heartache

thistle (scotch) – retaliation

tiger-flower – for once may pride befriend me, cruelty

tuberose – dangerous love, dangerous pleasures, voluptuousness, le plus loin le plus cher

tulip (yellow) – hopeless love

tussilage (sweet-scented) – justice shall be done you

venus flytrap – deceit, caught at last

– Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.

[parfumery-wiki]

Yuzu (eau de parfum) Signatures of the Sun Acqua di Parma

Citrus

A sparkling and energising fragrance that combines the bittersweet notes of yuzu with vibrant and luminous citrus notes.

Considered as the rarest fruit of Japan, the yuzu fruit is now the newest of Acqua di Parma's "frutti d'oro". The fragrance brings together yuzu's bittersweet aroma with our signature citrus notes. The sparkling and energising fragrance combines the freshness of the yuzu with notes of bergamot, lotus, mimosa, violet leaves, and jasmine.

Top notes: Yuzu, Bergamot, Sichuan pepper Heart notes: Lotus, Mimosa, Violet leaves, Jasmime Base notes: Musk, Liquorice, Sandalwood

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I saw you said you were on a writers block and I randomly thought of something for Halloween, so, Licorice Cookie x Gn!Reader where the two of them take poison mushroom cookie out for trick or treating. Licorice reluctant at first

In any case, I hope you have a good day and happy Halloween O(∩_∩)O

Awww. Thank you so much for the idea!

“What?” You huffed, puffing your cheeks in annoyance much to liquorice’s amusement, “I said we should take poison out for trick or treating. I think they’d benefit a lot from a night out.” The darkly clothed cookie looked over at the little one sat by the window watching with wide eyes as cookies of varying ages pass by in costumes ranging from ‘meh obviously store bought’ to ‘holy shit that’s really cool and creative,’ wanting nothing more then to join in on the fun that they got up from the window and dashed up the stairs for something wearable whilst liquorice and you were distracted with one another.

“Do I have to?” Liquorice whined, resting his weight on his chair only to let out a squeak of surprise and with a loud thud he found himself flat on his back looking up at you like a newborn lamb while you gaze down at him with a unamused look, accompanied with a raised brow as if to say ‘are you serious.’ “Yes” you said bluntly as you hoisted him up onto his feet, leaving him to dust himself down, muttering inconsistencies as you checked that everything within the plastic bag slumped against the couch was there as if you were scared someone nicked something without you knowing, muttering under your breath, “besides you already look to be in the Halloween mood 24/7 with those robes of yours.” Before liquorice could open his mouth to rant, moan and or complain poison decided to take this momentary slot of stiff silence to jump out and yell “BOO!” Dressed in an alabaster sheet with eye gaps big enough to see their entire face it was clear that they were a small friendly ghost, a friendly mushroom ghost if you will. It was incredibly cute that it drew a smile upon your lips as you bent at the knees to address the spooky cookie.

“Woah! Scary costume! You really scared me for a second there!” Poison giggled, almost tripping over their feet in their endeavour to run into your arms as you lifted them into a more comfortable position as you stood back to full height. “Yeah…really had me jumping out my skin.” Liquorice said unenthusiastically which earned him a sharp glare from you but went completely unnoticed by poison who only asked “are we going trick or treating? We are right?” They looked too sweet to decline, cute you and your weakness for all things adorable! “Of course we are sweetheart! Right liquorice?” The aforementioned cookie flinched at your bittersweet tone that instead of acting like a spoilt brat who wanted nothing more then to stay inside and do absolutely nothing the entire night, writing about his complaints in his little notebooks, responded by lifting his arm in a weak expression of enthusiasm “of course we are…yay Halloween and all that.” Poison copied his action and exclaimed with delight “YAY HALLOWEEN!”

The town was littered with decorative lightnings that took the shape of bats, leaves, ghosts and witches on broomsticks. The streets were littered with kids dressed in costumes, foliage trampled underfoot as the laughter filled the air only made you long for the youth you once lost to experience it for one night more. You’ve spent only 10 minutes and poison had rushed to the first house that met their eyes along with some other kids with their guardians chiming with the age old “trick or treat.” You had told poison prior that not everyone was willing to answer to the door on Halloween and when they asked why that was you only replied with that they were sticklers and or not home enjoying Halloween themselves.

“God I wish I was a kid again.” You said while you waited for your little ghost to get their candy. “Why? They’re a nuisance and irritating and a waste of quality me time.” Liquorice said eyeing you as if you grew three heads and two extra limbs. You smacked him up side the head lightly and huffed, “to have fun! I can’t exactly go trick or treating at my age anymore or else I’d be looked at funny.” “As if you already don’t get looked at funnily enough already.” He snarled under his breath which earned him a harsh nudge in the side “asshole.” You retorted “you love me though.” He mused pressing a kiss to your forehead “sadly” you joked as you watched poison talk to someone about all the candy he got and felt a warmth spread within your chest. “Ready to move onto the next house champ?” You asked, holding out your hand for them to grab. “Yeah! Onto the next house to spook more people!” They cried as you, poison and liquorice made your way to the neighbouring houses.

[decayandfanfics]

Drabble thought time! (i send this to another blog some time ago, so...) Tomura smells like petrichor. The scent of the city at night, soft rain clinging to the silvery strands of hair as he wanders the dark streets disguised in shadows and lonely alleways, tiny drops of mist caught into the black fibers of his trench coat as he passes by unnoticed.

He carries a touch of whiskey.

Wood and sugar mixed in his breath. A liquorice hint lingering in the skin of his cheeks, trapped between the rough lines of his dry lips and the corner of his mouth as he licks the skin absentmindly, tongue bittersweet on liquor and too much sugary drinks.

A hint of salt and iron. Just a note from his ever bleeding wounds. The ivory skin of his neck burning bright red with every scratch. Crimson jagged lines decorating the collumn of his throat, his mouth, his hands. Iron sticking to the neck of his shirts and fingers.

And Dust.

It catches on his shirt, his sleeves, the sole of his shoes every time he touches something. Gray specks that cling to him, refusing to be washed away. It dries on his palms and taints his neck everytime he claws at the skin under his jaw, mixing itself with blood and the chemicals of the preserved hand that covers him. Something old and dead and utterly surrowful lingering behind him every step he gives.

Then it hits you. He smells like loneliness.

[spneveryseason]

Top 5 happy/fluffy Sam moments 💖 💕

Gladly! We need more happy!Sam content for sure.

5. Last Call (15x07). Sam and Eileen being all giggly and loopy in the kitchen making food? So cute. And Sam looks like he’s just having a nice and uncomplicated fun time. We love that for him.

4. Death’s Door (7x10). This is just a tiny flash but that scene where Bobby is having his flashback with Sam and Dean sitting on the couch arguing about whether liquorice is good or not. (Btw, Sam, as always, is right on this one. Liquiorice is gross). It’s a bit bittersweet in context but I think it’s so nice when he can just let go and argue about silly things with his family.

3. Baby (11x04). The “Night Moves” moment is just so fun and happy. In terms of singing scenes, I actually like the one at the end of season 3 more but I wouldn’t exactly call it happy, it’s much too charged. Therefore, it’s just Sam and Dean, road tripping and singing and finding the fun in their lives whenever they can.

2. Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox (12x06). When Sam and Dean are chilling with Jody, Sam looks the most comfortable I think I’ve ever seen him: leaning back on the couch, relaxed, and smiling. And then of course he exposes Dean’s porn preferences to Jody and it’s so damn funny. It’s a fleeting moment where Sam isn’t actively tense or in working mode and it’s always nice to see.

1. Hell House (1x17). That moment at the end where Sam and Dean are walking back to the car, admitting to each other that they’d both pranked the Ghostfacers. And they both just start laughing and glancing back and they’re completely in the moment, just two young guys actually acting their age. It’s so cute and probably the first time in the show we see him like that.

Ask game

[sometimesiwrite]

made-up fic title: Chocolate and Lavender

Oooooh I like this. Thank you, love!

“Close your eyes,” Geralt whispers as he pulls away from you, stubble drawing pink blossoms where it scratches against your skin—a sweet prickle that serves as a reminder that a man is present in your life again. You smile and do his bidding, fluttering your eyelids closed. For a moment, Geralt feels the absence of their warmth as he looks at your face: innocent, trusting, but never naive and always bold. Beautiful.

The air around you swirls coolly as your Witcher steps away, only to warm again with the gentle searing of Geralt’s chest almost pressing against yours but not quite. You feel the smooth brass from his buckle graze against the linen of your blouse and your cheeks bloom this time.

“Open your mouth,” his voice is a low rumble of thunder in the distance and his breath carries the languid humidity of Midsummer to the hoarfrost gleam of Imbolc. You are breathless now, once again doing as you’re directed. Geralt smirks to himself as he hears your heart begin to thunder like horses’ hooves on the forest path that led him back to you—always back to you.

You smell it first, earthy and dark, a dusty sweetness that hints at liquorice and molasses but does neither of them justice. And then the soothing, spritely aroma of lavender... You feel it on your tongue, cold and smooth before it melts—a hot syrupy satin that coats your mouth in bittersweet and fills your nose with nut and honey. The lavender hovers between flavour and aroma, a taunting elusive sensuality that exists more intensely as it leaves your nostrils than when it stays.

Your eyes are still closed when Geralt’s hand takes your cheek, when his tongue licks greedily into your mouth, jealous of the little square of chocolate for having you all to itself. You hum indulgently, letting his frost and woodsmoke and tangy steel mingle with the richness on your tongue. He’ll stay longer this time. You can tell from the way he presses into you, insistent and needy, desperate for your sweetness to temper the bitter loneliness of the long winter.

[all-of-your-mercy]

TAG Part 1

“Describing Your Blog Tag”

Icon: Judeau, a character from Berserk series. The artist is from here.

My Content: Rambling off topic stuff from RP, mostly OC world-building or rambling about my day.

Letter Color: Sky blue, darker blue

Header: An Image I’ve taken from a song from my favorite music artist.

URL: Hentai-man and hentai was taken, and I like the extra-ness the x gives before the hentai word comes with it. That’s also my 3DS name.

Blog Title: Berserk fanboy. It’s the current mood right now tbh :v

Tag Part 2

Who Were You Named After?: One of the main characters of the Bible. I could have been named after the Lithuanian pagan deity of bees as a second naming choice.

Last Time You Cried?: Yesterday, LOL. Felt a lil’ under the weather.

Do You Like Your Handwriting?: I’ve grown to love it over the years, and people find It really lovely. Which is really cool C:

What Is Your Favorite Lunch? Scrambled eggs when the egg yolk isn’t fully cooked and still has the juice in it. Also, cooked bell pepper slices with it.

Longest Relationship: A couple of years

Do You Still Have Your Tonsils?: Yes LMAO

Do You Bungee Jump?: No, I’d love to try it though.

What Is Your Favorite Kind of Cereal?: Cookie Crisp! ( I miss it ngl )

Do You Untie Your Shoes When You Take Them Off?: I’ve tied them in a way that they’re still firm when you slide up the shoes, but loose enough I can take off them easily. That’s a no, LOL.

Do You Think You’re Strong Willed?: I’d say fifty / fifty on that.

Favorite Ice Cream?: Matcha, Mint and Chocolate.

What Is the First Thing You Notice About a Person?: Depends on the person, but mostly what they are interested in and what subjects you can commonly speak with them.

Football or Baseball?: Baseball. Good aim with arms, shit aim with legs.

Favorite Doughnut?: Dipped in pistachio sauce-thing!

What Are You Listening To?: Rammstein - Amerika (ENG. version)

If You Were a Crayon, What Color Would You Be?: Forest green

What Is Your Favorite Smell?: The smell from pine trees, sakura trees

Who Was the Last Person You Talked to on the Phone?: Headmaster of my class, I almost overslept her class

Hair Color?: Brown

Eye Color?: Hazel, brown somewhere

Favorite Food to Eat?: Shrimps, liquorice

Scary Movies or Happy Endings?: Depends on the mood, happy endings mostly right now because I’m tired of bittersweet scary movie endings

Last Movie You Watched in the Theater?: Joker ........... ?

What Color Shirt are you Wearing?: maroon / dark red

Favorite Holiday?: Halloween

Beer or Wine?: Beer

Night Owl or Morning Person?: Night owl

Favorite Day of the Week?: Friday

Favorite Animal?: Rabbit (I am not decisive)

Do You Have a Pet?: One bastardous male cat that sleeps on my face, one sweetheart female cat that starts purring just by seeing you.

Where Would You Like to Travel?: Japan. Said so many times, but I just really want that experience of their bars, cafes and getting Japan-exclusive merch from the series I like. Also, the lovely aesthetic within the streets and such. ALSO, I want a big ass gundam and I can only get them from there --

Tagging:

@v-hsk; @jebusfox @undeadchow; @walmartcryptid; @rettoujoutoubringiton; @bries-tome; @two-vampires-in-a-trench-coat; @hefkerut. (It’s not an obligatory thing you cucks, so keep that in mind!)

Empty format is under readmore:

TAG Part 1

“Describing Your Blog Tag”

Icon:

My Content:

Letter Color:

Header:

URL:

Blog Title:

Tag Part 2

Who Were You Named After?:

Last Time You Cried?:

Do You Like Your Handwriting?:

What Is Your Favorite Lunch Meat?:  

Longest Relationship:

Do You Still Have Your Tonsils?:

Do You Bungee Jump?:

What Is Your Favorite Kind of Cereal?:

Do You Untie Your Shoes When You Take Them Off?:

Do You Think You’re Strong Willed?:

Favorite Ice Cream?:

What Is the First Thing You Notice About a Person?:

Football or Baseball?:

Favorite Doughnut?:

What Are You Listening To?:

If You Were a Crayon, What Color Would You Be?:

What Is Your Favorite Smell?:

Who Was the Last Person You Talked to on the Phone?:

Hair Color?:

Eye Color?:

Favorite Food to Eat?:

Scary Movies or Happy Endings?:

Last Movie You Watched in the Theater?:

What Color Shirt are you Wearing?:

Favorite Holiday?:

Beer or Wine?:

Night Owl or Morning Person?:

Favorite Day of the Week?:

Favorite Animal?:

Do You Have a Pet?:

Where Would You Like to Travel?

[opfoodzine]

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WANTED: Liquorice of the Bittersweet Pirates

BOUNTY: 44,444,444

DEVIL FRUIT: Nostalgia Fruit (Make people melancholic and vulnerable hehe!)

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[grubdj]

Hello~ ❤ what about a HC for fun about the gang's favourite foods and drinks, what do you think? 😊

There isn’t a lot of them here but I’ll probably make a p2 eventually! Please feel free to tell me your own hcs!

The gangs favourite food HCs

Dutch - Nothing beats a full Sunday roast for Dutch, he definitely forgets to eat properly throughout the day - snacking or just drinking coffee to keep him sharp but whenever he’s in town with a bit of extra cash and time he heads straight to the saloon, sitting alone with a cold beer and taking a moment to appreciate a hot meal

Hosea - Bessie somehow managed to make the most random ingredients taste good but his favourite was always her pork and cider stew. He only tried to recreate it once when he was drunk and at his loneliest but failed miserably. Now, the taste is a bittersweet memory but he’d give anything to have it one more time

Arthur - Someone please feed this man a decent meal. Being the gangs own personal errand boy™ doesn’t leave much time for hot meals but when he gets a chance, he visits local bars and restaurants to try out various options. He hasn’t found a favourite just yet

John - … the aPpLeY jUiCe. obviously.

Sean - Has a serious sweet tooth. Would risk his life for a sweet, honestly. Prefers chewy candies over hard boiled ones even if they don’t last as long. Hates liquorice tho, he tried it once and has never felt such a strong hatred for something so quick in his life

Lenny - He likes stuff that's easy to make: sandwiches, salads etc. but he’s quite fussy, he won’t refuse to try something new but once he decides he doesn’t like it he won’t touch it again. 

Uncle - he starves himself, refusing to let lumbago steal his sustenance and simply relying on the energy he produces from his infinite power. it’s a slow death, my brother.

Tilly - Tilly doesn’t have a favourite really and is willing to try anything and everything. She’s less likely to turn her nose up at foods she doesn’t like and tries to be grateful for the food itself, ignoring the taste. 

Mary-Beth -  loves pastries and anything to with baking, she thinks its the mix of sweet and savoury that makes it so appealing, not to mention how charming and cute the bakeries look. Before writing took over, she had a dream of opening a bakery one day 

Molly - Only the best for Miss Molly O’Shea. She can’t tell what she likes more, the rich flavours of the food or the beautiful decor of the restaurants. At the start of their relationship, Dutch made time to take her to every restaurant he could, enjoying the chance to woo Molly and try new foods himself but soon, their dates grew few and far between and she hasn’t been to one for a while. Pearson’s stew will have to do for now

Jack - He was raised on Pearson’s stew but those fancy meals he was offered at Angelo Brontes house will always be remembered fondly by Jack, something about the strange and exotic food just stuck with him. Later on though, when he’s settled with his parents in Beecher’s hope, he enjoys helping his mother with the stew - sure, it might not taste great in the end but he likes the process of preparing food once he gets over the anxiety of messing it up

Abigail - She loves to wake up to bacon and eggs in the morning. Her mood for the day is most likely established by her mornings so being well fed and energised with a large meal won’t hurt. It will if you forget her coffee. Just don’t, please, for everyone’s sake

Charles - prefers to hunt for his own food and years of life running by himself has taught him not only to hunt and kill well but to cook well. Prefers salty foods over sweet foods and likes to experiment with different combinations and spices. He could eat anything that’s put in front of him and make the most of things if he has to ration. Definitely the type to cook for his partner but be extremely grateful if they do so for him

Micah - he’s pretty used to making the most of canned and premade foods - he has to, everyone knows he’s a god awful cook. He does prefer a hot meal though, especially after a stressful day or risky job, a rat has his needs yknow. He can go a while without eating but won’t forget to eat enough if he’s able to. ‘gotta keep sharp’, he says, ‘no tellin what could happen’. Also loves a cold beer with a meal

[orange-antics]

Eddsworld miscellaneous hcs

ok there's probably like 100 of these already or something, but I thought I'd add mine anyway, because hey, it's fun and I'll probably change or add a few later. (Also this ended up waaaaaaaay longer then i meant it to be wh o ops so uh be warned its pretty damn long-)

Tom:

Shortest! (i know it's normally either edd or tord, but after seeing saloonatics, I just couldn't resist the idea of the grumpiest one being the smallest. Cute right?)

Relatively strong arms, more fat around his stomach and torso then his legs.

Occasionally works gigs at local clubs and stuff for money.

Doesn't have much social media aside from Facebook so he can occasionally stalk his old college mates.

He actually likes sports like football and tennis. (His favourite sport is seeing how many bars he can hit up in one nigh-//shot//)

His hair smells like pineapple! (And the rest of him like booze-)

He's up for pretty much anything if he's drunk enough to have fun and not remember enough to regret it

But not bowling.

N e ve r bo wl ing

He's still got a scar on his left arm from The End. :( But Matt and Edd helped him to fix it up, so it's all good!

He's actually a pretty chill and sensible guy, and despite being snarky and sarcastic whenever he can, he genuinely cares about his relationships with people, scared that one day they'll get bored of him and cast him aside. He's really just a goofball with big city dreams of becoming a rockstar.

Spends like two hours in the shower crying and listening to MCR

His favourite show is Bad Education. It's good for when he needs cheering up.

He likes snacks and foods that are crunch, and salty, spicy, and sometimes savoury. So Crisps, Pringles, Doritos, chex mix etc.

Edd:

Second shortest/third tallest

Kinda chubby tbh but he's the BEST at hugs.

His forearm game is actually pretty strong because of all the time he spends making art to pay for their bills (because hey, someone's gotta do it amirite). You don't wanna head into an arm-wrestling contest with this guy.

Makes money by selling his art and also taste-testing all the latest cola products! (Just...not the diet ones).

Aside from a devianart, redbubble and maybe even a tumblr for art commissions, he doesn't really care about social media. Or regular media. Politics who?

His favourite sport? Seeing how many cans of cola he can get through on an especially difficult project. (Cricket always looked kind of fun though)

Smells like cola and not taking a shower in days because he HAS to get the lineart perfect and edd are you ok when was the last time you slept- (jokes aside, i can see him smelling like graphite and paints and sharpies from his art supplies).

Can pull the perfect poker face like damn son having a baby face sure comes in handy when lying to your roomate about why there's broken guitar strings hanging out of Ringo's mouth again

Has a scar on the inside of his eyelid from the time Tom 'accidently' poked him in the eye with a pencil (...may or may not be based off personal experience)

Edd is pretty friendly and open with people, he likes getting to know them and joking around. He's the Ultimate Punmaster ™, and loves nothing more to poke fun. He sees the world through the eyes of a cartoonist, and will never miss a comedic opportunity.

Be warned! He's actually fairly smart, and can read people well, knowing just how to really get under someone's skin. It's a good thing he can't be bothered with any of that though.

Gets his best ideas either in the tub or when hes just about to sleep. Because of that, he keeps a water-proof and regular notebook. Nearly had a heart-attack countless times because he accidently swapped them around.

Despite his complaints about absurd plot conveniences, he actually likes Doctor Wh- i mean "Proffesor Why", there's just something about the concept of time travel...he also likes cartoons! Like, a lot. He'll watch most anything and everything if it's animated and the writing is decent.

Likes anything sour, sweet, and chewy! So Jelly Babies, Wine gums, Sour patch kids, that kind of thing

Tord:

(Most of these are heavily based upon his life as Red Leader so sorry if you were looking for more domestic Tord. Maybe I'll do seperate hcs for that one day)

Second tallest! Quite a bit taller then Tom, a bit taller then Edd, just about average height, if a bit taller. He's closer to Matt in height then Edd.

He's actually quite well-built! You wouldn't think it because of the baggy hoodie he wears but he's got pretty good muscle, and his endurance and strength is well above the others. This mostly comes from the logic that he's been training and leading the Red Army, so it just makes sense to me that he'd resemble a soldier physically, yknow? AU-wise, or before he started the whole world domination thing, he'd be a little more scrawny, but he could still kick everyone's ass (he probably tried copying numerous anime battle stances lol-)

He's pretty well off, it turns out you can get quite rich by adopting some uh...rather unconventional means of money-making. Of course you could always say he just sold his inventions.

Does having your own private network of underground intelligence-gathering units count as social media? No? Nevermind.(He has a hentaihaven account-)

He likes dodgeball, archery, and you guessed it, arcade shooter games. Anything where he can point and hit something basically.

He smells like gunpowder, dirt, oil from machine maintenance and the cold? Like if the cold had a smell, he would have that smell, does that make sense? He also probably smells like Old Spice because idfk it just reminds me of him ok.

He doesn't exactly get out to socialise much, be prefers to stay at his desk, or curled up next to the fire with a mug of hot cider when he wants to relax. Sometimes Paul and Pat will drag him outside when they think he needs a breath of fresh air, and they'll go visit the nearest marketplace for food and other supplies. He likes strategic games like Chess or Draughts, and it's a good way to show off and get practice at the same time.

Scar-wise, he probably has quite a few from his fights. Post-the end, I'm not sure what would happen to him, since I've seen people go in a lot of different directions. I DO think he'd replace him arm with the robotic one, since that seemed too heavily implied to not happen. Regarding his face, I think the burns and stuff would probably heal over time, and depending on the technology in the future, he'd either still have some heavy scarring, or maybe he'd develop some kind of treatment so that it restores him to almost fully healed. He could always go the cyborg route and end up half-man half-machine like we see with future Matt and Tom.

(About the patch on his face, I have a theory about how he he aquired that scar/injury. See, I don't think Tord founded Red Army by himself, no. I think he was introduced to it by Paul (who we see in the same classroom as them in Poweredd) who was kept back a few years cause....uh...yknow- Anyway I have a theory that Tord eventually climbed the ranks until he became second-in-command, and he then murdered Red Leader and took his title. Their fight is where he got that injury. It's not really canon-supported much, but I find it an interesting concept!)

You've probably guessed, but I kind of disgree with Tord's portrayal sometimes. I think I prefer the darker, meaner side to him. I wouldn't say he's (completely) evil, but I'm not really one for the whole "self-hating, regretful angsty Tord who just wants some love and support" and stuff. I mean, it's cute with ships amd fluff, amd ideally he does make amends and rejoin the group, but I just like the thought that he's genuinely not a nice guy yknow? Like, he's actually done some fucked up stuff, and The End is probably just one case. (Of course this is all opinion based so feel free to disagree if u wanna wheeze-)

Has the WORST sleeping schedule. Has been known to fall asleep in the bath/shower.

He prefers movies to shows. His favourite is the Kingsman series (he can relate on many different levels).

Likes bittersweet things, (just like his personality amirite-). So cake with coffee, or tarts, liquorice, hard candy, that kind of thing.

Matt:

(My favourite-)

He tol. Tallest of them all!

Someone once described him as "borderline twink" and tbh i agree. I feel like he'd have a slightly feminine figure (which is perfectly normal!) and he both rocks it, and knows he does.

He works at a nail salon every now and again, his self-confidence and bubbliness makes him get along well with customers. (Also Matt would definitely wear nail polish ok dont even try to convince me otherwise. Actually speaking of,)

He has EVERY kind of social media possible. Instagram, twitter, facebook, tumblr, facebook, snapchat, you name it! He's especially prominent on instagram. He likes to keep an ~aesthetic~

He likes gymnastics and dance, activities like that. Anything which puts him in a creative spotlight. He'd probably take up acting classes, and then insist on only being given monologues.

He'd probably have quite a pleasant and nature-y smell? Like uhh citrus-y, pine tree, a hint of flowers, that kind of thing. Although he'd DEFINITELY slap on way too much cologne on a date or something and end up smelling like he just emptied out a bottle of febreeze.

He'd probably go out quite a lot! I can see Matt being a social butterfly, his friendliness and general likeability probably mean that he's got a few friends and stuff around. I can also see him as the kind of person who'd enjoy taking walks in the park, sitting below a tree, that kind of thing. He probably runs a self-love session (that works a little TOO well). He wants to get out there and show off his beautiful face, so it doesn't take a lot to drag him outside (provided you keep a mirror on you, that is).

He doesn't really have any physical scars. I mean, i do hc him with freckles, but they don't count so. he has a mental scar. After he hit himself with the memory eraser gun, he completely erased his memories. It took a while for him to settle onto the personality he has now. His face was the one thing that he knew for certain held a sense of familiarity and stability, so that's partly why his narcissism boomed so much. He sometimes gets random flashbacks of being a zombeh leader, being less of a nicer person, and it can be quite unnerving for him. He also has other memory issues, which is why he can forget things so easily, and comes across as an idiot most of the time.

He can be quite oblivious, but I dont think hes a total idiot. He can read people fairly well, and is emotionally intelligent. He says stupid things sometimes despite knowing they'll get a reaction, just because he wants to, and thinks that life should be as fun and full of joy as possible. He's too trusting, and wants to see the good in everyone. At the end of the day, if you disrespect him (and his face), you'll see that he can be more then just the nice guy.

LUSH!! Matt is HERE for all those lush products. I'm talking bath bombs, lip scrubs, shower jellies, all that good stuff! And ofc he has like 100+ products for his hair and skincare routine, because let's face it, it's Matt. I also like to think he owns a bunch of bath toys and rubber duckies, and like the kid at heart he is, he'll sit in a bubble bath playing with them, and re-enacting all of their adventures.

He mostly prefers youtube videos over TV, so you bet he's subscribed to all the beauty gurus, vloggers, people like that. He does think children's cartoons are nice to watch though, so every once in a while he'll force Tom and Edd to sit with him and watch the latest season of My little pony.

He likes anything sweet and fun to look at! Especially if it's trending, so he can post pictures of himself eating/drinking it. So if there's another rolled ice cream/new starbucks-ccino/unicorn themed food item floating about, he'll probably be trying it.

(Ah man this turned out way longer then i thought. It went from simple headcanons to like full blown theories whoops- maybe i should make seperate posts if its too difficult to read? Anyway let me know what you think nonetheless!)

[sweetimagines]

Rebellious Passion

Gif source 

Pairing: Armitage Hux x Poe Dameron

Description: Gingerpilot week - Day 7 - Orange appreciation. 

Warnings: None I can think of.

Word Count: 1787

A/N: This was supposed to be a super quick fic but the details just kept coming. 

It’s an unusually quiet day on the Finalizer’s bridge. Even though it’s war time, the galaxy still feels it’s necessary to celebrate Valentine’s Day, meaning there’s no X-Wings to blast down and it would be insensitive to plan an attack on the Resistance base while they’re unprepared - leaving out the fact that the First Order has no clue to where their new base is located.

If it weren't for the third cup of extra strong caf General Hux had this morning, he’d be blinking sleepy eyes from boredom.

Surprisingly, “Supreme Leader” Ren is taking part in the nonsense festivities, locked in his chambers with his - invisible - scavenger girlfriend. 

Poe had informed Armitage beforehand that even the traitor - FN-2187 - has a date with the Otomok biter. Apparently, he doesn't want to be the only one alone. 

Hux assured him that there would be plenty of people lonesome for the holiday. That earned him a hard hang up of their comm call. He later learned it’s rude, if you have a partner, to not spend Valentine’s with them. 

However, he can’t have anyone knowing he’s involved with rebel scum. He’d be executed, or worse. Dameron doesn’t seem to understand that.

Despite the fact that he rejected the unscheduled meeting, Armitage can’t stop thinking about letting Poe down. The monotony of the bridge isn’t helping him keep his mind busy, but that’s just about to change in an epic way.

One of Hux’s officers arrives at the bridge, carrying a gigantic bouquet of flowers. He only recognizes the man when he speaks. 

“These are for you, sir.” Lieutenant Mitaka hands them over.

The General scoffs, his eyebrows raised as he holds the bouquet to the side. “What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?” 

“Oh... They’re not from me, sir. There’s a card.” Mitaka points at the piece of folded flimsi and gets back to his station before Hux has a change to investigate further.

General Hux has a feeling he knows who they’re from and is just about to confirm when he notices all his officers are staring at him. “Have you no work to do?” Immediately, everyone gets back to their duties.

He squares his shoulders and strides out of the bridge, leaving behind the fruty fragrance of Everlily on the air and a few peach hued petals on the ground.

Armitage loosens up only when he’s inside the concealment of his chambers. He takes a seat on his ice blue couch, settling the bouquet on the caf table and retrieving the card. He chortles at the bad poetry but smiles at the fact that it’s handwritten - even if Poe’s letters are sloppy and difficult to read.

Roses are red, 

My flight suit is orange,

And so is your hair. 

Happy Valentine’s day, Hugs.

Of couse Dameron wouldn’t let anything stop him from being a good boyfriend. Undoubtedly he’s been planing this for a while because a bouquet of Everlilies is very expensive and he’s probably not earning much on a Resistance Commander salary. 

Hux is aware of how harsh it was to deny a hopeless romantic a date on Valentine’s Day. He hasn’t got the first idea how to fix that, though, since he has never had a Valentine before.

The thuds of someone knocking on his door interrupt his line of thought.

“What is it?” Hux questions irritated, getting back to his cold, autocratic self.

“Apologies, sir! We have received another package for you.” Mitaka shouts as the door slides open.

The General takes the small, medium weight, mysterious box with a bow on top and dismisses his assistant. 

The box contains two carrot cupcakes with bitter chocolate frosting and a bottle of ginger ale. 

Armitage feels specially guilty now as he reads the small heart shaped card.

Enjoy your breakfast.

Hugs and kisses from your Flyboy!

It’s simple and sweet and absolutely something that would normally sicken Armitage. Instead he’s charmed. Poe really is a master at romantic gestures. 

Hux doesn’t want Dameron to think he doesn’t care so he’ll follow his boyfriend’s actions to try and make things right. He summons Lieutenant Mitaka to his quarters with flimsiplast and pens.

His assistant turns up with the required items and another gift. At this point, General Hux is not surprised anymore. 

“Lieutenant, how would you make a Valentine’s Day card?” Armitage asks reluctantly in a low voice - in case anyone is eavesdropping. After all, he needs every bit of help he can get.

“I wouldn’t know, sir. I can research people’s preferred methods if you’d like.” 

“No. I better do that myself.” Hux can’t have “Valentine’s Day card how to” on the First Order net database.

Mitaka nods before getting back to work. The door to General Hux’s chambers shuts closed with a thump as he sets the new present on his desk, reading Poe’s card in hopes to find some inspiration there.

I am the spark that will light the fire in your pants! 

That’s not exactly the kind of enthusiasm Armitage was expecting to find, an involuntary blush tints his cheeks red and a shy smirk curls his lip. 

He wonders how a single sentence from Poe has more effect on him than an entire meeting about military strategies or finally finishing the design to a modified Tie fighter after long hours of work. 

Maybe Poe is right and he’s misguided in his passions. He’s already sick and tired of having to bow to Kylo Ren’s petty revenge crusade. Being constantly humiliated and abused is most definitely feeding his doubts. 

Perhaps it really is time to consider other ways to put his specialties to use. Just not this exact second, now he has to receive his boyfriend’s extreme affection and then find a way to retribute.

Hux lets out a single high-pitched giggle as he opens the package to find not only a pumpkin spice scented candle but also two short plush coral Porg. Ever since the Wookie adopted those creatures, Dameron is obsessed with them.  

Armitage comms Dameron from his personal encrypted commlink. There’s no way he’ll allow his boyfriend to spend Valentine’s Day alone anymore.

“Changed your mind about celebrating, Hugs?” Poe’s voice is cocky. Hux has no doubt that was his plan all along.

“Congratulations, rebel. You have successfully coerced me into inviting you over.” 

Dameron chuckles proudly, making Hux roll his eyes.

“Don’t gloat or else I’ll change my mind.” An empty threat and they both know it. “I’ll have Phasma escort you safely to my chambers while Lieutenant Mitaka erases your landing from the records.”

“I know the drill, Hugs.” They’ve done that one too many times and Armitage can feel from Poe’s voice that the dirty secret is starting to take a toll on him. 

He fears soon his boyfriend will start to weigh the pros and cons of their relationship and realize he made a mistake. Hopefully tonight he can score on the pros.

 “I didn’t have time to buy you a gift, though.” Hux already let him down enough for one day so he might as well be honest.

“I wasn’t expecting one. See you in a bit, Ginger.” 

“Don’t be too long, Pilot.” 

Captain Phasma delivers Dameron safely to General Hux’s chambers. She’s not on board with the relationship but knows it will happen with or without her help and she’d rather see Hux in one piece, so making sure no one spots a Resistance Commander walking freely around the Finalizer is now part of her job.

Armitage regard Poe’s appearance and is awestruck. He’s surprisingly not on his flight suit, but a nice leather jacket over a cream shirt and BB-8 is not trailing his every step. He even shaved and doesn’t smell like engine oil. 

“You look nice, Dameron.” No matter what he’s wearing, Hux always fancies him.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Hugs.” Dameron kisses his cheek and Phasma leaves. It’s not visible through her mask, but she most certainly rolled her eyes. 

“What are your plans?” 

“I thought we could holonetflix and chill.” Poe guides Armitage to the bed. “I brought snacks.” He hands him a clear plastic bag.

It contains peach flavored and colored sour gummy X-Wings with black liquorice details, bittersweet jellybeans with cantaloupe essence, dyed soft orange and sweethearts candy shaped and tinted to match his astromech with the words “BB MINE” stamped on it.

“You’re so corny.” Armitage teases as a defense mechanism to how he really feels - warm and fuzzy.

“And proud.” Poe sighs. “Oh, and I have one last gift for you.” He winks and hurriedly strips his shirt, tripping over while taking off his pants. 

“Orange underwear?” Hux raises and eyebrow as Dameron rubs the back of his head embarrassedly. “You have a problem, Dameron.” 

“I’m just honoring the origin of our love: The Orange Lady, Nar Shaddaa, Corellia.”

Armitage gasps at the meaning behind all the orange items he received. “That’s...” He’s at a loss for words.

“Mushy? Sappy? Silly?” Poe jokes.

“More like charming, endearing, honorable.” Hux sometimes doesn’t believe he scored such a wonderful man, specially from the opposite side of the war. 

Dameron kisses him the same he did when Hux first said “I love you.” and he’s left breathless.

The holoshow Dameron chose isn’t exactly to Hux’s taste but after everything that man did for him, watching a bad show is the least he can do.

“Did you like my cards?” Poe snuggles closer to Armitage’s chest.

“That poem was epically bad... but... sweet.” Hux admits reluctantly. Dameron has been able to soften him up to physical contact but emotional demonstrations of love are still hard for him. 

“That reminds me. I made you one after our comm call.” Armitage stands up and retrieves the card from his desk and watches as Poe reads it.

I love you so much I’d defect the First Order.

Happy Valentine’s day, Dameron.

PS: My last name is Hux.

“Do you mean it?” 

“Yes.” Hux doesn’t possess the kind of humor needed to make a joke like that. “I undoubtedly love you more than anything and I don’t want to lose you.” 

Poe stays silent, enjoying that moment for as long as he can. “I love you so kriffing much, Hux.” The use of his proper last name expresses that more than anything else ever could.

“I know.”