What a day. Woke up at 7am, did homework, cleaned the entire house, went to school, then immediately went and worked out for two hours. Tomorrow, I’m really going to try to get up and go running in the morning. We’ll see. I hate running alone. But I’m reallyyyyyy going to try. Then homework, errands, and work until 930pm.
You probably shouldn’t have agreed to live with a somewhat
psychopathic criminal but you were a bit short on money right now and
he had offered to let you stay for free. Well, not really. Free like
in he didn’t want any money. That didn’t mean he wasn’t asking for
„You’re a bit slow today.“ Jim comments, sitting on the couch,
drink in hand while you clean up the entire house. One of the many
great jobs you got to do for living here.
„Oh I’m so sorry master.“ You reply sarcastically, bowing down a
little in front of him, „Maybe I would be faster if you didn’t
throw your things everywhere.“
„Could be. After you’re done I need you to bring that packet to the
„What’s in there?“ You ask suspiciously.
„'Cause I don’t want to get arrested for sending weapons or drugs
or whatever it is you’re doing.“
„The package is harmless don’t worry.“
„Well if you say so it must be the truth.“ Yeah like hell it was,
you’d make sure to look inside that thing before sending it anywhere.
You finished what you were doing and headed out in the hopes he
wouldn’t come up with anything else for you to do while you were
Moriarty didn’t really need you to do anything but it was fun seeing
your annoyed face everytime. Truth was, you interested him and he
liked the way you talked back to him. You had figured out pretty
quickly that he wasn’t who he said he was. He didn’t deal with drugs
and weapons but you’re guess that he was a criminal had been right.
Not just anyone would have figured that out so quickly if at all. He
was a good actor.
“I’m back.” You yelled, walking through the front door. You
didn’t hear any commands being yelled back so you figured you’d be
done for today.
“Kitchen.” Or not.
You had expected to make dinner or something but when you walked in,
food was already there and Jim guided you over to the table, making
you sit down.
“A thank you. You looked a bit too annoyed when you left earlier.”
“Is this poisoned?”
“Oh don’t be so suspicious.” He says and rolls his eyes at you.
A Guide to Being a 17 year old:
First, you have to be indecisive. And I mean, REALLY indecisive. Think of it as trying to pick a flavor of ice cream, except your decision will determine what kind of ice cream you eat for the rest of your life, and some of the flavors could possibly kill you. You also have to be moody. And I mean, REALLY moody. But I don’t mean occasionally crabby. I mean some days you don’t want to get out of bed because the world will seem like the flattest goddamn bottle of champagne out there, and other days you will be that bottle. Once in awhile you’ll get these crazy urges, probably while you’re trying to sleep, and you’ll feel like cleaning your entire house or being the next great contemporary poet. Chances are you will remain in bed and proceed to get anxious about everything you could be doing. That’s another thing. You have to worry a lot. And I mean, REALLY worry. It’ll feel like you have an internal bees nest and just when things have settled down, the one kid from down the block you can’t get rid of bombards it with his slingshot. Most of the time you don’t even know what the hell you’re worried about. You just worry. But enough about your weird habits. You’ll figure those out eventually. The real kicker comes when you decide to venture into the unknown abyss of love. Yes, you will love. And I mean, REALLY love. But not right away. You’ll meet a girl, probably over social media because you’re too afraid to actually talk to her in person. She’s gonna intrigue you. This is how it goes. You’re going to try so hard to impress her with your witty, flirtatious phrases and eloquent words. Spoiler: it works. But don’t get too excited. You’ll start to think wow! I really like this person, but I don’t know if we’re ACTUALLY compatible because we completely bypassed the friend stage, the basis of all successful relationships. Actually, scratch that last part. You won’t realize that until afterwards. Anyways. You’ll date for awhile. You’ll see a few movies. You’ll start to think about her lips on your jaw and the electricity pulsing through your nerve endings when her hand rests on your arm. You’ll call it love, for the sake of labels. Then, when you’re way too invested to have any hope of a happy ending, things will go bad. And I mean, REALLY bad. You’ll start to constantly question yourself when she doesn’t look at you the same way. You’ll try to change yourself because your whole life you’ve never known anything different. You’ll break up. A jagged split that’s anything but symmetrical. Pieces of you will be left on the other side. You tell yourself you’ll learn from it; you’ll become a better person. But the worst is not the break. The worst is having to keep yourself company afterwards. You are a recently finished party where no one was quite interested enough to stay. You sit alone in the big hollow house that is yourself. You’ll crave attention. The kind that comes with temporary longing and permanent regret. You are once again the flat champagne bottle, hanging on the rack as people talk about what you once were. But you won’t change. You won’t do a damn thing about it. Because this is what’s comfortable to you. Being stuck in a boat that’s constantly taking on water but never enough to sink. You will not be the motor that propels you to shore. But just when it looks like you’re about to go down, someone will save you. Someone unexpected. She will come like the calm sea breeze rolling in on a Tuesday afternoon. You are tentative. Your heart is like the Christmas gift you’d rather keep yourself than give to someone else. But she will take it. It won’t be like before. Your walls will be violently torn down, and you’ll realize the human body is a work of art no prodigy could capture. You’ll no longer wonder about the future; you’ll long for it. You can’t wait for the moments when you can wipe that little bit of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth or ask what you can make her for dinner. Yes, you will want to make her dinner. And while you still don’t know what flavor of ice cream you want and you still haven’t figured out what you’re worrying about and that flat champagne bottle still hangs from the depths of your mind, everything will feel okay. The swinging pendulum that is your delicate life will settle into an unfamiliar but pleasant rhythm for as long as it can. But there’s one last thing you should hear…
Anon: One-shot request: Bucky reads your diary and finds out
you have torn feelings between your boyfriend (him) and some other guy and
maybe cheating. Angst and some fluff <3
TITLE: Dear Diary CHAPTER NO/ONE SHOT: One shot AUTHOR: Admin RCN WORD COUNT: 1379 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: N/A NOTES/WARNINGS: *Rubs hands together* let the angst begin!
Bucky had a content smile on his face as he tidied up your
shared bedroom. You had been working extremely hard lately and had been on a
mission for the last three weeks so he wanted you to come home to a nice, tidy apartment.
He even went as far to hoover the sofa and put a tea spoon of vanilla in the
oven so that the entire house smelt fresh and clean.
For the first time in a while the house is thoroughly clean, there’s no spills, no sticky patches, no random crackers on the floor, nothing. The house is entirely clean and full of festivity as your son waddles around trying to find something to get himself into. You hear the front door open and your sons eyes at once peek over at you, “ah, is daddy home?” You coo, watching as the little boy keeps a neutral expression before turning back to watching the Christmas lights on the tree. “Hi, my two favourite people.” Harry blissfully, yet tiredly greets coming into view just as he leans down and kisses your cheek. “Hi, it’s about time you come home.” You smile up at him, a sigh escaping his lips.
“I know, I know. I’m two days over due, I’ll make it up to you.” He cracks a smile, “now where is my lil fella?” He chimes, turning around to see his child twiddling with the Christmas balls on the tree. “Whatcha doin’ baby?” He coos, grabbing his sons attention and scooping him up in his arms. “Ah you’re getting big.” He bounces the boy on his hip, gently poking at his little stomach. “Y/N why is my son dressed as a reindeer?” Harry questions, placing a small kiss to his sons chubby cheek.
“Because it’s cute.” You wear a smile,
“Darlin’ we brought your niece this exact onesie.” He comments,
“It was cute, he doesn’t know the difference.”
“Can we possibly refrain from dressing our son as a reindeer with pretty pink bows?”
“Would you prefer me to dress him as a baby elf?”
“Yes, I don’t like the bows.”
“So, are you saying only girls can wear bows?”
“No, no, no. I’m just saying- damnit. Okay, I don’t the bows.” Harry groans, bouncing his son on his hip.
“Fine, but I heard no complaints from him.” You gesture to your baby boy as he coos and giggles at Harry.
“Honey, that’s because he can’t talk.” Harry chuckles,
“I suppose.” You sigh, “if you’d give me a girl I wouldn’t have to dress our son with pretty bows.” You smile with a sneering smile, watching as he rolls his eyes.
“We can discuss that later. How about some daddy cuddles? Hmm?” Harry coos as he places yet another kiss to his sons forehead. “Cuddles, I like that.” Harry continues, falling beside you on the couch and playing with the little one. “Can you say daddy? Da-dd-y” harry a bit slowly enunciates, hoping to convince his son to verbalise Daddy.
All that you both have managed to get from him is casual babbling and occasionally he says “Da.” There’s no doubt in your mind that your son will utter daddy long before mummy, unfortunately he doesn’t even babble “Mu/Ma”
“Daddy.” Harry continues to voice, your sons hazel eyes glancing up at Harry with slight confusion. “Da” your son points to you, giggling to himself, “that’s mummy.” Harry smiles, “mummy, daddy.” He gestures between the two of you.
“Da.” Your son holds his arms to you, squeezing his hands open and shut, “aw, but daddy wants to love on you.” Harry sighs with a small pout,
“Daddy wants to play.” You coo to your son, poking his cute cheeks and placing a small kiss to his nose.
“We still need to take him to see Santa.” Harry comments,
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I think he will cry.”
“All kids do, it’s part of the fun.”
“Are you going to stand in the hour Long line with me and then spend an hour settling our son after seeing Santa?” You question, knowing very well that your son will shed tears like every other toddler tends to do.
“Yes, I’ll be there.” Harry nods,
“Uh huh, just like you came Christmas shopping?” You raise a brow, watching as he rolls his eyes,
“I was drunk when I agreed to that. You know I hate Christmas shopping and the damn crowds.”
“Oi, language!” You scold,
“Babe, he’s not going to repeat me when I say damn. He doesn’t repeat daddy. He won’t say damn.” Harry comments taking absolutely no care to the little ears.
“If he says damn, I’m blaming you.” You nudge Harry gently,
“You just said it, it’s your fault too.” Harry chuckles, “isn’t that right? Hmm. Isn’t mummy to blame too?” Harry tickles the little boy, watching as his eyes light up and he giggles louder.
After constant giggles and babbles your little boy is quietly curled up on Harry, nestled comfortably into him as he becomes sleepy. “I’ve missed this.” Harry reveals, distracting you from the Christmas movie on the television.
“Yeah, but work is work.” You yawn, looking over and smiling at how cutely your son is cuddled up. Picture perfect moment.
“Mhm, so you want another one of these little guys, huh?” Harry gestures to the sleepy toddler,
“I want a girl.” You nod, moving closer and cuddling into Harry’s side,
“What, are us men not good enough for ya?” He jokes, an arm draping around you as the other continues to stay securely around the boy.
“More than enough, but you won’t let me dress our son in cute girly things.” You pucker your face,
“Sorry, baby. You know, if we try again we could end up with another boy.” He winks, “I wouldn’t mind another boy. Start an army of good men.” He chuckles to himself,
“If we try again, we could have a girl for Christmas.” You chime, not exactly wanting a male dominated house.
“We also could have another boy.”
“Don’t jinx it. So is that a yes to trying again?” You blessedly question, taking note as the little boy is fast asleep, his soft snores just being heard.
“Don’t see why not. We made one adorable lil one, might as well make another.” He responds, “but first, I’m putting him down, he’s slobbering on me.” He screws his nose up, carefully standing to his feet. You decide to trail behind him as he takes your son to his room, watching as Harry carefully puts him in his crib.
Harry steps out of the baby’s room, looking down at you with gleaming eyes. “Hm, in the spirit of Christmas shall we watch another Christmas movie?” He softly asks, licking his lips imperceptibly, your eyes unable to gaze away from his.
“We could.” You nod, “or we could do something else.” You whisper, your arms lightly wrapping around his neck,
“Hmm, and what may that be?”
“I don’t know, the possibilities are endless.” You respond with a soft voice, his lips instantly crashing down on yours, engulfing the two of you into a passionate kiss. He gently pulls away, eyes glistening light the Christmas lights, “so, bedroom?” He questions, his hands moving to rest on your hips,
“No, I wanna watch elf.” You shake your head with a smirk,
“Are you kidding?” He mutters, moving his hands to grasp your behind.
“Definitely.” You nod, placing soft kisses on his neck,
“Mmm.” He sounds, carefully lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom, making sure not to separate your lips from his tender skin.
<b>Nana from first chapter:</b> I don't like any of you ( maybe except of Igarashi ). I'm only here for Serinuma.<p/><b>Nana later:</b> We're leaving Serinuma with her job and we're going to help history club!<p/><b>Nana later:</b> Let's make a Christmas party! It's going to be super fun!<p/><b>Nana later:</b> Shima and Serinuma had a fight? Sure we'll help them.<p/><b>Nana later:</b> Shinomiya is leaving? Okay first I'll get mad at him and argue in the school cafeteria and later I will go to his house with all of you and tell him that he's our friend and he won't get rid of us so easily.<p/><b>Nana later:</b> Shinomiya is scared of something in his house? I will sleep there and I will also help him clean the entire house and make him something to eat.<p/><b>Nana later:</b> Apparently I still do Shinomiya's laundry cause he can't do it himself.<p/></p>
I love that feeling when you are home alone and you just cleaned your entire house and everything is in its place. Candles are lit and the dishwasher is running and the carpet has those vacuum streaks. Blankets are folded and your bed is made as you lounge around in freshly laundered fuzzy socks while reading a good book and drinking some hot tea.
AmeLiet: These two are definitely shabby chic. I think they’d go for something simple that was comfy and inviting
DenNor: I always think of light blues or turquoises for this ship. The marine theme and Scandinavian minimalism is absolutely their aesthetic.
RusLiet: The rest of their house probably isn’t very flashy but for their bedroom, Russia wants it to look like something that belongs at Versailles. Partially out of a desire to spoil Liet and partially because Russia secretly has rather extravagant tastes
SuFin: Whites and grays, chic and modern without being too severe. Absolutely what Sweden would pick out. Finland wouldn’t be too concerned about the design as long as the bed has exactly nine hundred pillows
GerIta: Their master bedroom would definitely be in more of a suite style. The bed has to be huge and there has to be plenty of lighting. Italy would probably like something more colorful and fun but Germany would insist that the entire house stay along the same clean and neutral design
USUK: Again, when I think of this pair, I always see cherry wood furniture for some reason. Luxurious but not over the top, with a few yellows and greens for color. England would be the one to pick it out, but America’s tastes in home decor probably run along the same lines
AusHun: Fancy but never gaudy, this is exactly what I imagine for these two. The bedroom has to be nice to look at but cozy because they’re both big on creature comforts. The chandelier is a little bonus for everyone’s favorite snooty aristocrat
FrUS: I feel like France and America would bring the artsy, bohemian sides of each other. This is probably an unconventional choice for both of them but c’est la vie
FraSey: France and Seychelles are a couple with a lot of whimsy and sweetness. The room is sumptuous and cozy, with plants for a little life and greenery. Of course there’s a fire place and candles for the added romance. And there’s definitely rose petals lying around somewhere
RoMerica: Romano and America are perpetually poor, hipster-y college students. The bed is just a lumpy mattress on the floor, the sheets haven’t been washed in weeks, and there’s a record player because they’re misunderstood teens
SpaMano: Spamano is all about deep, sumptuous reds. Sensual without being over the top. Romano probably chose the canopy as a sort of privacy curtain, because he likes to feel as if his bedroom is a sanctuary
These are just a few of my ships as well as some of my pet rare pairs. If there are any other pairings that you’d like to see, feel free to send me a request.