#did i draw an extra person on the photograph? did i forget anyone?

[babygirlificationn]

Aaaaah so glad you like them 💖💖 thank you for kind words 😭

Did some self indulgent doodles for @greentrickster aa fic 'Saturation' :D the con chapters are just...so much fun.

[jisungsplatforms]

[Chapter I: Let’s Party!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: strong language, use of alcoholic beverages, drunken antics, ?? jackson wang is throwing a party?? (jk he’s not aljsks. changbin is tho), nothing filthy in this chapter, unfortunately :/ just plot build up

Chapter word count: 2.6k words

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

Haven University; school of the elite. From the academically inclined to the artistically blessed, only those who were gifted with such talents are accepted to augment their potential. The perfect school for the sensational.

...And like every other school with young hormonal adults, also the perfect school for a good fuck.

“Another outstanding submission, Y/n! Keep up the great work!”

You smiled at your photography teacher, Mr. Kim, bowing humbly as you thanked him. You were proud. Praise after praise for your picture taking skills only heightened your motivation to be the best even more. Photography has always been your passion. Ever since you were given your very first camera at the age of 5 years old- which, in retrospect, was actually a toy camera, you already knew that it is something you would want to pursue.

In the middle of your teacher’s praises with another student, the bell rang. “Looks like we ran out of time, folks. Great job again, Seungmin. Everyone, class dismissed,” he said, jokingly using shooing gestures. “Now hurry up and get out of my face, you delinquents. Lunch time awaits. Go replenish your life force.”

You began gathering your belongings, slinging your precious DSLR camera around your neck. “Outstanding submission, young photographer.” You heard someone say. You turned around to see Seungmin grinning at you.

You snort out a laugh. “Thanks. Great job to you too, Seungmo.” Seungmin was about to respond when your instructor’s voice interrupted.

“Oh. Except Y/n. Please stay a little bit after class, for me, dear.” You and Seungmin shared a glance, nodding for him to go ahead without you. He pats your shoulder, bidding you goodbye. You continued packing your things into your bag. As the rest of the students left the room, you walked towards Mr. Kim’s desk, waiting for his word. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hello, sir. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Ah yes. I wanted to ask you this,” your instructor paused, sitting on his desk. “How much do you love photography?”

You paused, wanting to convey the exact feelings you wanted to express. “Photography is an escape for me,” you answered. “It’s another form of art that helps people convey the emotions and stories people want to tell. Some people express their emotions through music and lyrics, others through paintings, and others through dance. For me, personally, I’m not all that good in any of those aspects, sir. That is why I work so hard when it comes to this class, and in photography in general.” You unconsciously caressed the camera slung around your neck. “And to me, the stories behind a photo is a lot more intimate in a way that I just can’t explain.”

“Because...this is the only way for you to express yourself? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” You nodded. Mr. Kim hummed in thought. “I see.” He stood up and walked to you, placing his warm hands on your shoulder. “I admire you, kid.”

“You...admire me?” You were confused. The teacher admires his student? Isn’t it usually the other way around?

“Oh yeah. Is that hard to believe?”

“Uhm...Kinda, yeah.”

Mr. Kim laughed mirthfully, amused by your bewilderment and doubt. “Well, believe it. You have spunk. Soul. Your work impart emotions I have never seen from my other students before. You’re passionate about what you do, and I like that. You take digital arts very seriously.”

You laughed awkwardly, the amount of praise your instructor was giving you made you happy. “I do, sir. Kinda a shame not a lot of people even consider it an art.”

“Indeed,” he replied, sitting down on his desk. “Which is why I wanted to give you an impromptu assignment. I want to assign you a story telling type of assignment; to write a story using your photography skills, if that makes sense.”

“Hm, yes? I think I get a jist of what you're trying to tell me.”

“Excellent. I just want to use this to monitor your skills, Y/n. You’re a very talented person, the most talented I’ve ever had even. I just want to see how much of that potential you really have so I can help you blossom it into something greater.”

“Oh,” you draw out, somewhat understanding why he picked you. “I see, sir. I’m honored that you’ve picked me.”

“You should,” he joked. “Now, I want you to photograph the following- write or type this down before you forget.” You hastily whipped out your phone from your pocket. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. I want you to capture the perfect scenes. Give me something that gives you joy. Something that makes you emotional, good or bad or even both, if you can. Something you fear, and finally, something that you love unconditionally. These are all supposed to be different photos, by the way. Got that?”

You finished typing a few seconds later. “And...got it.”

“Awesome!” he smiled. “Just know that I’ll be giving you only 3 months to complete the assignment. I hope that this isn’t too much to ask of you, but I’m sure someone as ambitious as you doesn’t mind, right?”

“Nope, sir! Everything will be a-okay!”

“I’m glad! Now move along and get to the canteen already. I’m sure you’re just as hungry as I am.”

You giggled, making your way to the door. “Thank you sir! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Oh, finally! There you are! We were starving waiting for you!” You rolled your eyes at Minho, who immediately decided to pick on you the second you entered his field of sight.

“Shut up, you could’ve eaten without me you know?”

“Nah, cause what kind of friends would we be if you ate without you?”

“You just want to steal some of my food, don’t you?”

Minho scoffed and went quiet, prompting Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin to laugh. “Caught you red-handed, Hyung,” Hyunjin teased, which backfired immediately causing him to chant an apology after Minho gave him a look.

“So why did you take so long, Y/n?” Jeongin asked.

“Oh, Mr. Kim wanted to give me an extra assignment.”

“Extra assignment?” Seungmin questioned. “What for?”

You shrugged, sitting down. “Uh, to test me? I’m not sure but I honestly think that there’s something more behind it. Not in like a bad way, just to clarify. I mean, he did acknowledge that I’m the best in his class after all.”

Seungmin snorted. “I just know you meant that unironically.” You jokingly blew a raspberry at him.

“Of course Y/n is the best!” Hyunjin stuck his chin up. “Let’s be honest, anyone could be the best if they use me as their model!”

“Hey, Hyunjin? You wanna eat this straw?” Minho threatened, making Hyunjin shut up.

“No...?”

“Good. Get off your high horse, prince charming.”

The three of you laughed. “Poor Hyunjin,” Jeongin sympathized sardonically.

“Hyunjin please stick to dancing and uh- not dying,” you said. “I still need you alive for some more upcoming projects.”

“For me too,” said Seungmin. “I might start using you as my model as well.”

Hyunjin fake cried, “Y’all just like me for my looks!”

“I mean, there’s no denying you are incredibly handsome but we like your personality too, Hyunie, don’t worry,” you cheered him up, then turned to Jeongin. “What about you, Yeni? How’re you holding up now that Lix is gone?”

Jeongin gasped. “I miss him! I’m so lonely now, especially when I have theatre! I feel so awkward now that girls swarm up to me instead- and you know I’m a shy boy!”

“Hey! At least you’re more popular now!” Minho laughed.

“Well, now we have no choice but to remember Felix in our hearts,” Seungmin replied.

“I’m not fucking dead. I just switched majors!” the four of you turned to see Felix pouting at you all.

“Well, you’re dead to me!” Jeongin wailed. “Going from a theatre major to a dance major. How could you?!”

Felix chuckled, sitting down between Seungmin and Jeongin. “I’m sorry! You know I’ll still see you though, buddy!”

“Why don’t you just switch to a regular vocal major next semester, Yeni?” you asked.

“Nah. I originally did want to go for just regular vocal studies but, you know, even if I did accidently sign up for the class, I ended up finding something else I wanna do. Plus, theatre is surprisingly fun! You know, find something new that’ll change your life every day.”

“Yup! Especially since they often collab with the dance majors so we get to see each other a lot!” Hyunjin beamed while Minho nodded in acknowledgment.

“Oh, speaking of dancing,” Minho chimed in. “You guys wanna go to a party I was invited to?”

“No,” Seungmin immediately responded.

“No, not you, I knew you would say no. I meant the others.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I was invited to the same party you’re talking about, so yeah.”

“Can’t,” Felix replied. “I’m still getting used to my new major and I still have a few assignments to catch up on.”

Jeongin hummed in agreement. “Same here. We have a play coming up soon and I’m a lead this time, so I gotta stay home to rehearse as much as I can.”

Minho made a stank face, “Aww. Lame.” He turned to you. “What about you, Y/n? You down?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Really?” All 5 boys looked at you incredulously.

“Yeah. I might find some inspiration while I’m there. Besides you know I’ll just be leeching off of Hyunie and Min the whole time.”

Minho and Hyunjin high-fived, cheering a quiet ‘yes!’ Hyunjin giggled. “This is great cause we might need a designated back up driver in case I get drunk and Minho-hyung abandons me!”

“Now that you’ve said that, I might seriously consider that,” Minho grinned. “We’ll pick you up at 8 sharp! Y/n!”

‘8:53pm’ You wanted to go home already.

The boys, true to their word, picked you up at 8:00pm. With little to no traffic- and the fact that Hyunjin actually got ready early so that they wouldn’t be an hour late- the three of you made it to the party around 8:20pm. Even then there were already a lot of people there.

“What the fuck. This house is huge!” you gawked. “Can you even consider this a house still?!”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I’d say this more of a mansion at this point.” All you do mutter a constant chant of ‘what the fuck. what the fuck’ over and over again. “Who’s house is this again, Minho?”

“Changbin’s, remember? Jisung said they’re celebrating in his house,” Minho replied.

“Well this Changbin dude is LOADED,” you mused. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the elegance of the house, which most likely costs more than your entire tuition. “I’d hate to be the one who has to clean up the place.” The boys lead you to the kitchen, helping you avoid the crowd cause, in your words, ‘ew yucky people’. There, they brought you to two men wearing all black, who were hanging out on the island counter. Their names were Changbin- the handsome rich boy who owns the house, the lucky bastard- and Chan- another handsome rich boy with the cutest laugh and dimples, both really sweet and hilarious men, whom you very much enjoyed talking to...

That was the last memory you had before it went downhill.

It took 33 minutes and 4 soju bottles later for Hyunjin to get drunk. Chan and Changbin were back at the booth, manning the song list for the night while Minho was somewhere with some guy in a red beanie doing absolutely nothing, so here you were: stuck babysitting your best friend. “Y/n! Y/n!”

You sighed hearing Hyunjin drunkenly call you. Again. “Yes, Hyunie?”

“I looove you~!” he sang while giving you finger hearts, rocking on the balls of his feet. You sighed again, rubbing your temple.

“Yeah yeah. I know. Love you too.”

“Y/n!” Your left eye twitched. You whipped out your phone from your bra to text Minho.

Me: You bitch.

Help me

Minho ho ho 😼: Hi

No

You glowered. You quickly glanced up to check Hyunjin, who was now sitting on the carpeted floor in front of you, counting his luscious black hair.

Me: He’s-he’s counting his hair… Please get him. It’s like watching a bird repeatedly hitting glass

Minho ho ho 😼: At least he’s not making any trouble now, is he?

He fucking jinxed it. Hyunjin stood up with a shocked look on his face. “What’s wrong, Hyunjin?”

“It’s my favorite song!” he cheered, starting to dance along. You have to admit, even when he’s drunk, he’s still an exceptional dancer. Texting Minho a quick ‘fuck you’. You put your phone back between your breasts to go back to monitoring him, preparing yourself in case you needed to tackle Hyunjin down.

“Heyyy, Y/n!” Minho suddenly draped his arm around your shoulder. Taking your eyes off of Hyunjin, you glared at your lazy, backstabbing friend, shoving his arm off of you.

“Asshole, you’re ten minutes late.”

“Oh I'm not here for Hyunjin. I need your phone.” You look at him audaciously.

“What the- why?”

“My-uh-phone died?” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes briefly flickered towards Minho’s friend, who, in return, looked down bashfully, red faced. Hm. Weird. You rolled your eyes, nonchalantly reaching into your shirt to get your phone. Minho didn’t even hide his grimace. He cringed, “It’s warm...and wet?”

“Shut up. I’m sweating, okay? And I don’t have any pockets on me.”

Minho nodded, going back to his little friend. Before you could scold him, you heard Hyunjin screaming. You turned around to find him running to the front door. Oh shit. You started pushing people to run after him

You groaned in disgust, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here. You pushed your way out of the crowd, cringing at the feeling of touching numerous dirty, unknown people. Where in the world is the fucking exit? In the midst of the sweaty, drunken bodies, your eyes met. It was like time had stopped; no one within the vicinity seemed to not have mattered anymore. With just a smirk and a flirty wink from the chubby-cheeked boy in the red beanie, you knew…

...you just had to fuck him

Hold on, Y/n. Your friend might get fucking ran over! You snapped out of it. With a flustered face, you continued shoving your way through, wrangling Minho on the way. “Come on, fucker. You’re helping me. Let’s go,” you sneered while Minho complained.

After 30 minutes of chasing and wrestling, the drunken beast was tamed. The night ended with Minho driving you all home instead while you and Hyunjin cuddled in the backseat against your will. Minho took great pleasure in knowing that he wasn’t Hyunjin’s cuddle buddy, laughing every time you tried unlatching yourself from him, which made the long haired boy cry. Your sadistic friend dropped you home first, apologizing for not being much of a help tonight. “To make it up to you, I have something for you,” he suspiciously said, wiggling his eyebrows, before giving your phone back and driving off.

You relaxed on your bed, happy that you were rid of those dirty, smelly clothes. You grabbed your phone to text Minho. Assuming that the messages app was left on your conversation with him, you started texting, not paying any mind to the fact that the chat was blank.

Me: Thanks for taking me I guess. I didn’t get anything other than unwanted kisses from Hyunjin ew but it’s aight.

Speaking of aight…Do you think you can give me your friend’s number? 👁👁 The one with the red beanie.

Cause sir, not to be nsfw or anything but he is one fine ass man that I’d like to fuck

Almost immediately, the three bubbles appeared. You were surprised that Minho would reply that fast, thinking we was still on the road with Hyunjin. The reply you got, however, made your heart drop.

Min’s hoe: uh...hi? 👋🏻

this is minho’s “fine ass friend with the red beanie” 👁👁

Shitshitshitshit SHIT

[NEXT CHAPTER]

A/n: Sorry no smut in this chapter just plot build up :(( (which i’m a sucker for) and a lot of dialogue. But Trust me. Everything written in this chapter will fall into place with the future chapters. And who know, next chapter might be 🥵

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: Closure

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3950

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Wakes & Funerals, Angst, fluff, smut, blow jobs, hand jobs, moving in together

A/N: BUT LIKE THIS IS JUST P0RN WITH *~*FEELINGS*~*

Conclusion, Starting from "Sleep"

Read After “Hope”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

Kakashi sits on the edge of the bed and watches Iruka dress. Black on black on black formalwear; he’s dressed similarly. Iruka is fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, watching himself in the mirror that hangs on the closet door. His hair is still loose, slightly damp at the ends from his shower and curling at his shoulders. It’ll straighten as it dries, Kakashi knows.

“Love.”

Iruka drops his hands. He’s been fumbling the same button for a few seconds.

Kakashi stands and crosses the room. He reaches around Iruka, drawing his back to his chest, and finishes the line of the shirt. With gentle coaxing, he turns Iruka around and then pulls him back into a tight hug.

“We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Iruka rests his forehead on Kakashi’s shoulder, his hands light on his waist. “No one else will,” he says quietly.

“That doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let his spirit float aimlessly?”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He just holds Iruka tighter.

“I need this,” Iruka murmurs. “I need to do this.”

“Alright,” Kakashi kisses his hairline. “Alright.”

~

He stays at the edge of the cemetery, watching Iruka and the priest speak. He’s too far away to hear. He doesn’t care.

The fuck died a traitor to the village, a rapist and an abuser to the end.

All around this cemetery are the ancestors of civilian families who have lived in Konoha and the Land of Fire for decades, centuries. This… he doesn’t deserve to share the same space as them.

But.

Iruka fought for it. He petitioned Tsunade, and spoke to the priests, and arranged for as many of the funeral rites as he could reasonably be allowed. Mizuki’s name won’t go on the Stone, nor was he allowed to be enshrined in the cemetery with other fallen shinobi. And Iruka was… he accepted the terms.

So this morning they picked up Mizuki’s ashes and bones.

And now they’re here, with incense and candles and one lone white chrysanthemum in Iruka’s fingers. When they’d gotten here, the priest had asked if they wanted to wait for anyone else, but Iruka had sadly murmured to just get it over with. No one else was coming. Iruka had sent out notices to their classmates, old coworkers, the woman that Mizuki had after Iruka; no one had responded.

Kakashi had held Iruka through the disappointment last night. Iruka had hoped that the woman, Tsubaki, would at least show. But yesterday was just like today; nothing and no one else.

So he watches. The incense is lit and prayers are said, the bones and ashes are laid before the gravestone, covered with the wooden marker and one of the few photographs Iruka still has of Mizuki, one taken back when they both had finally completed their first year of teaching.

“This one,” he had said, picking it out of the album. He had put his fingertip lovingly over Mizuki’s face and held back tears, continuing, “We. We were happy, then… I think. Maybe it wasn’t real, but it felt—right.”

Finally the priest finishes the prayers and rites, and the ashes and bones are buried, the marker placed. The priest seems to offer Iruka their condolences one last time, and then leaves. Kakashi holds up a hand to stop them as they approach, and takes out a heavy envelope from his inner jacket pocket. With a slight bow he offers the envelope to the priest, and they accept it silently.

Iruka had told him he could cover the expenses for the service.

Kakashi needs to do this for him, though. It’s all he can do now, really.

Because he’s trying. He’s trying to be objective at least. But this dick abused his lover for years, conditioned him into acting certain ways under stress; and now Iruka takes a small cocktail of medication everyday to keep himself stable. And he can’t forget that, let alone forgive. He won’t.

He’s glad Mizuki’s dead. And also, he’s of the opinion that Mizuki doesn’t deserve the same rites that the dead typically receive. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with the same dignity that everyone else is—Minato-sensei, Obito, Rin.

(Not his father. He. He never did this for Sakumo. He was too young, in too much pain, and the village was all too pleased to see Sakumo gone. He regrets that now, but he can’t… well. The bones and ashes are still in the family shrine. Maybe…)

So instead he pays for the service, and for the cremation, and for the burial, and includes a significant donation to inspire the priests to come by and pray over Mizuki’s grave for the next year or so. Because that’s what Iruka would want. He would want someone to help this poor fuck, even if it couldn’t be himself.

Kakashi wonders if Mizuki knew how lucky he was, to have the devotion of the one person in the entire village—likely the entire world—who knows only how to see the good in people. He wonders if Mizuki knows now how lucky he is, that even though Iruka killed him, even though Mizuki raped him and beat him and brutalized him… Iruka is here, when no one else would step up, praying over his ashes for his soul to find peace.

Because—and it hurts to admit it—Iruka loved him.

Iruka smiles and the sun comes out; Iruka leans on Kakashi and the south winds warm him from the inside out; Iruka kisses him and it’s a revelation. And it’s his capacity to love, and especially to love broken people, that’s given Kakashi the chance to have this. Not his humanity—though that is such a bonus—but this unending fount of love Iruka seems to be made of; that’s his strength.

It’s also his most dire weakness. And Mizuki took advantage of that. He took all the love Iruka gave him and twisted it into something dark and bitter. But instead of running or fighting like any other shinobi should have, Iruka’s response was simply to love Mizuki harder. Maybe they drove each other to the heights of insanity they eventually reached.

Kakashi will never know. And after today he won’t care.

He enters the cemetery to go and stand silently beside Iruka, still praying. Eventually, Iruka picks up his head and leans against Kakashi’s thigh.

“It wasn’t all bad, y’know,” Iruka mutters.

Kakashi doesn’t respond, only carefully places his hand on Iruka’s hair and petting gently.

“After the Kyūbi attack, we roomed together until we graduated from the Academy,” Iruka says. “Sometimes the heat would go out and he would come and huddle with me with all the extra blankets we had.”

He was probably just cold too.

“He stayed up all night with me to practice the clone jutsu before our final test, so we could graduate together.”

He was using your natural ability to teach to learn a last-minute technique.

“He taught Naruto how to roll omelets. That was. That was a nice morning.”

He… hmm.

“He wasn’t always a monster,” Iruka sniffles. “I… He was there, Kakashi.”

“I know, Love.”

“I never wanted this.”

“I know.”

“I thought… For so long, I thought we would be together forever. He was everything. And it was… it was okay. I didn’t know it could be any different.” Iruka looks up at him, tears stuck in his eyes. “He had it easy, didn’t he? I forgave everything he did to me.”

“But he took you for granted.”

“What he did was underestimate my protectiveness,” Iruka sighs. “Both times. It ended our relationship, and then it ended his life.”

They stay in the cemetery for a long time. Kakashi listens to Iruka tell him stories about Mizuki the boyfriend and tries to meld that with his own memories of Mizuki the abuser. When they leave, Iruka drops the chrysanthemum on top of the marker with a finality that screams where the rest of the cemetery is silent.

~

They go home later, and Iruka stops on the sidewalk looking at his house while Kakashi pushes the fence open and starts down the path to the front door. His black jacket is slung over his shoulder, and the sunset warms his skin and casts a reddish-orange glow onto his pale skin. He stops and turns, one foot propped on the second step up to the porch, and smiles back at Iruka.

That Iruka can tell he’s smiling with three-quarters of his face covered and three meters of space between them… Iruka realizes he’s so far gone on this man. He has been for months.

But Kakashi looks so perfect, waiting for him outside the house.

“Coming, Love?”

Iruka flushes, scratches at his scar, and walks up the path. When he’s close enough to Kakashi, he murmurs, “Hopefully later,” and passes on to the door to unlock it and release the wards. He leads the way inside and looks back over his shoulder to see Kakashi looking at his ass hungrily, still standing in the same spot and position he’d been when Iruka had passed him.

He grins. “Coming, Love?”

Kakashi looks up at him and whines, “Don’t tease.”

Iruka laughs. He turns and goes inside, leaving the door open for Kakashi to follow him. He tosses his keys onto the table in the genkan and begins toeing off his shoes.

Kakashi comes and stands behind him, putting his nose right in Iruka’s hair behind his ear. “Love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too,” Iruka responds. He twists and kisses Kakashi on the cheek, still masked.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Iruka says. He finishes getting his shoes off and steps out of the genkan. He holds out his hands for Kakashi to take, and grins when he has Kakashi close again, now in the living room. “Though, if you’re on the menu…”

Kakashi takes down his mask, groaning deep in his chest. “I thought you said no Icha Icha lines.” He slips his arms around Iruka’s neck while Iruka’s hands go to Kakashi’s hips.

Iruka leans in slowly. “Are you really complaining?”

“No. No, gods, no. Please kiss me.”

Iruka deliberately kisses Kakashi on the corner of his mouth. And when Kakashi tries to turn into the kiss, he trails kisses away from Kakashi’s lips, across his jaw and down his neck.

“Iruka—!” Kakashi whines.

He walks them back to the couch, licking at Kakashi’s neck the whole while. He sits down and Kakashi falls after him, straddling his lap and cupping his face.

“It’s okay? Can I—?”

“Kakashi, please keep kissing m—”

He does. He dives in and coaxes Iruka’s lips apart so their tongues can glide together. All the while his hips are slowly rocking against Iruka’s; he grabs Kakashi low on his hips and urges him to grind faster.

“You and your—oh, gods—fucking suit,” Kakashi pants into his mouth. “Gorgeous. Godsdamned gorgeous in this.”

Iruka tips his head back and lets Kakashi kiss and lick down his neck. Fingers grapple at his tie and collar, fumble with his shirt. Iruka’s own hands squeeze Kakashi’s ass, full and warm in his palms.

“Want you,” Kakashi murmurs against his throat. “Want. I want to see you come. Can I do that for you tonight? Please, please let me make you come.”

Iruka pushes Kakashi’s head up with two fingers under his chin and kisses him. Kakashi’s hands stop their pursuit of stripping him out of his shirt and instead cup Iruka’s face, still muttering please, please, please, all the while rocking and grinding in Iruka’s lap and—

And—

Oh, how’s he supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” Iruka kisses him. “Um. Okay. Just. I don’t…”

And then Kakashi says, "I want you to fuck me."

And something in Iruka stops.

~

“Want to—hmm—feel you move in me,” Kakashi rambles. He continues unbuttoning Iruka’s shirt, exposing more and more bronze skin. Iruka's chest is broad and muscled and perfect, just like the rest of him, and Kakashi slips off of his lap to settle on his knees between Iruka’s thighs; he leans in and laps at Iruka’s clavicle, down his sternum, drifts aside to catch a nipple in his teeth. Iruka’s soft hum and fingers in his hair tell him he’s doing good so he flicks his tongue against the bud between his teeth. His own eye rolls back to hear Iruka’s cry of pleasure.

Down further, he keeps undoing buttons and parting fabric. He lays kisses all over Iruka’s belly, cups his erection through his pants, and glances up at Iruka before he goes for his belt and trousers.

“Please.”

“What—um—what are you…?” Iruka can’t seem to get the words out, but his chest is heaving with his breath and the flush on his cheeks is staining his flesh all the way down his neck. He’s-he’s beautiful.

“I. I really want to suck you off,” Kakashi says. “And then, if you’re up for round two, I want you inside me.”

Iruka takes his cheek in hand and smiles and says, “We can. We can definitely try that.”

“I love you.”

Iruka kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Love you too. But let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Kakashi can agree with that. He stands up and pulls Iruka along by the hands. He’s giddy and excited—almost as much as when Iruka lets him eat him out, but this excitement has the twinge of newness to it. He’s wanted to get Iruka’s cock in his mouth since the first time they had gone to bed together, and now, finally, he’s getting it.

He’s a bit lightheaded by the prospect, if he’s honest.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Iruka begins unbuttoning Kakashi’s shirt, while Kakashi plays with Iruka’s buckle. Iruka moves to the cuff buttons at each wrist, and then returns to Kakashi’s chest to part the fabric and slide his palms over his undershirt and up to his shoulders. He pushes the shirt off and pulls it down his arms, dragging his palms and fingertips along his pale skin and raised scars. The shirt is tossed and Iruka returns to the undershirt, lifting slowly from the bottom and smirking at how Kakashi’s abs jump at his touch.

The undershirt and mask join the shirt on the floor, and Iruka goes for Kakashi’s belt, but is halted by his own belt and trousers being undone. Kakashi let Iruka have his bit of fun; but he’s really got to get that cock in his mouth.

“I love you,” he murmurs again. He leans in and kisses Iruka’s cheek, down to his jaw and back to his lips; traces his ribs with his fingers and groans at the dips of muscle definition on his abdomen. “You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Iruka’s panting lightly, his eyes closed and his lips shiny with spit—his or Kakashi’s, who’s keeping track anymore? Kakashi swallows the whimpering moan he pulls from Iruka’s throat as he finishes stripping both of them, their clothing a pile of fabric on the floor.

He urges Iruka to lay down on the bed, takes hold of his underwear once he’s prone, and asks again, “Is this alright?”

Iruka’s response is to raise his hips and tip his head to the side. He has a wet, red mark on his neck that may bruise by morning if Kakashi’s not careful.

He slips the last bit of fabric off and throws it aside. Iruka’s cock, hard and reddened, bobs onto his belly and smears precome across his skin. He blushes furiously, and it’s perfect.

Kakashi crawls onto the bed, spreading Iruka’s legs and settling himself between thick muscular thighs. First he kisses the soft, darker skin of his inner thighs, then trails his nose up through the thatch of hair around the base of his cock. He darts out his tongue to taste and relishes the whimper he receives. One hand joins his mouth in worship, gently cradling the thick cock while his tongue licks all around the base.

“K’shi. Love.”

The most subtle of shifts has him positioned above the head of Iruka’s cock. He licks up a bead of precome at the tip, closing his eyes to savor it. Continuing to cradle this precious member in one hand, he begins to press open-mouth kisses all along the shaft. His thumb caresses the tip and spreads the precome that keeps leaking.

Then Kakashi licks a wide stripe up the underside, base to tip, and sucks the head into his mouth—

And Iruka sobs.

Kakashi lifts his head, letting Iruka slip from his mouth but still holding him in one hand, and checks in—”Iruka?”

“Don’t stop,” Iruka whimpers. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

Relieved, Kakashi kisses his navel, his hips; strokes his cock with a slow, steady palm; and only when he hears Iruka cry out again—

“Gods among us, Kakashi, please!”

—does he slip his lips back over his head and take Iruka as far into his mouth as he can. He’s not long, but he’s thick and Kakashi’s jaw aches to hold him on his tongue; a slow breath out has Kakashi sliding the very tip of Iruka’s cock down his throat and relishing the fresh, louder cry he receives for the motion. He can hold Iruka in his throat for twenty-four seconds before needing to pull back. He’s not like Iruka, with no gag reflex and a penchant for swallowing long cocks and holding them in his throat. He bobs his head, drooling over the thick shaft and moaning at the taste of more precome in the back of his mouth.

Kakashi had been braced on his elbow, holding Iruka’s hip with a careful grip. But now he shifts, settles his weight more on his knees, places his forearms on Iruka’s spread thighs. He continues holding Iruka’s cock with one hand, stroking where his mouth can’t reach and keeping him from jerking up into Kakashi’s throat. With his newly freed hand, though, he cups Iruka’s balls and presses his thumb just barely against Iruka’s hole.

“Love you, love you, oh-oh-ahh, so g-good, K’shi, fuck.”

That’s it. That’s it, Love.

He lets Iruka thrust into his mouth just the barest amount, knowing unfortunately that he’ll choke if he lets Iruka take what he wants but also. Also, gods, Iruka is panting and moaning and it’s driving Kakashi higher and higher.

“Want. Oh. Kakashi, Love, wanna come with you,” Iruka taps at his shoulder, “Please, please come up here and kiss me.”

He lets Iruka go, swallows the last bitter traces of precome on his tongue, and crawls up Iruka’s body. Iruka takes him by the face and pulls him the rest of the way to his mouth, kissing and nipping at his lips and groaning all the while.

“Why,” Iruka mutters into his mouth,”are you still wearing your underwear?”

“Good question.” Kakashi licks into his mouth and continues kissing him, fingers his nipples, rocks their hips together—

“Off. Get them off,” Iruka whines.

“But then I’d have to stop touching you.”

“You can take three seconds to strip.”

Kakashi sits back and shoves his underwear down his thighs. The cool air on his dick is a shock, but not as much as watching Iruka reach for his own cock and begin to touch himself.

Kakashi stops to watch.

His fingertips glide along the underside, up and down and up and—they stop and Iruka takes himself in a light grip, swirling his thumb against the tip while his other hand drifts to his chest to pinch and tweak at his own nipple.

Iruka licks his lips, moans brokenly, and says, “Are you going to make me do this myself, or are we doing this together?”

He fumbles the rest of the way out of his underwear, saying, “I. Well.” He settles back, kneeling between Iruka’s thighs and watching his hand move and his chest heave. “Gods, Iruka, I could come from this.”

“Watching me?”

“You have no idea. How godsdamn sexy you are right now.”

Iruka’s blush is sweet and gorgeous.

“Want us,” he pants. “Want you.”

Kakashi leans back down and kisses him, deep and lovingly, pressing their bodies together, hips to navel to chest. Iruka’s arms encircle his neck and keep him close, keep them kissing. He reaches between them for Iruka’s cock and takes him in hand again, pumping his hand carefully.

Iruka shakes his head. “Together, Kakashi, please.”

He shivers. “I won’t last,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. Wanna feel you.”

So Kakashi leans up on his elbow, adjusts his hips and pushes his own cock alongside Iruka’s into the circle of his hand and they both sigh and moan and Iruka begs him to move—

“K’shi, please, please, I’m so close, just—little more, please!”

Kakashi ruts, smoothing precome along their cocks with his palm and easing the friction. Iruka’s leaking steadily but Kakashi’s pulsing, damp squirts from his tip with each thrust. His eyes are shut tight and his lips are parted and kiss-bruised.

“You. You’re so beautiful,” Kakashi whispers.

And Iruka comes. Splashes of come slip over his hand, pooling on his stomach and chest. Kakashi stills his hand to feel the pulse of Iruka’s cock against his own and it’s glorious. His jaw drops in an almost silent cry, interrupted only by soft Ah-ah-ahh as he pants. And when he starts to come down, Iruka moans and gasps, “So good K’shi,” and then.

And then he opens his eyes, just the barest amount, and says, “You too. Come for me, Love.”

Like he could resist. Kakashi’s hand doesn’t even move again, still gently holding them both; he comes on command, adding to the mess on Iruka’s belly as his hips rut against Iruka’s.

His mouth is dry and his throat aches when he comes back to himself. Iruka is holding him against his chest, the mess mostly wiped away by a corner of the blanket. Kakashi nuzzles into Iruka’s neck, breathes him in, and relishes the soft touches to his back and arms.

“Move in with me.”

Kakashi opens his eye and picks up his head. Iruka is staring at the ceiling, like he’s not sure how Kakashi's going to respond.

As if there’s any other response he could give.

“Alright.”

“I just thought, y’know, you’re here all the time anyway, and I miss you when—” Iruka looks down at Kakashi and furrows his brow, saying, “Wait. Alright?”

Kakashi smiles. “Alright.”

“You. You’ll live here. With me.”

“I would love to.”

Iruka frowns, turning his gaze away from him and instead to the wall. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m realizing that,” Kakashi chuckles.

“I expected to have to convince you.”

“Convince me? To live with the love of my life? To live with the man who makes me bad omelettes but perfect pancakes? To live with you, who makes sure my weapons are sharp and designs seals and tags specifically for my use?”

“Kakashi…”

“I’d get to live with the same man who opened up his heart and his home to my sensei’s son, who the rest of the village had turned their back on, and showed him what love is with no desire for reciprocation or payment. You just. Did.”

“Gods, love, stop.”

Kakashi does. Because that word is important and he won’t tarnish it by disrespecting it. But he could go on. And on. And on.

But Iruka smiles and kisses him again and says, “Okay. We’ll get you moved in tomorrow?”

Because it’s getting late.

And he’s home.

[hermit-pistol]

Rohan Kishibe Fluff Alphabet:

The second full alphabet is finally finished, woohoo! This one goes out to all of my Rohan lovers-  Make sure to like, reblog, and click under the cut! It means a lot! 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Rohan will want to show you the things that he’s passionate about, and that mainly includes his artwork and enjoying art together! When you want to get out of the house, you guys enjoy walks in the park. Fresh air does you well.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He really loves your attention to detail. If he parts his hair differently? You're going to notice. If he draws a manga panel with an extra that looks eerily similar to your likeness? Of course, you're going to notice.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

In theory, he figures that he'd be inconvenienced, but once it actually happens his tune changes real quick. He soon realizes that when in a relationship, selfishness isn't an option. His arms will be open, all he's waiting for you to do is to run into them.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Rohan's forte isn't long term thinking. Unlike the issues of his manga, life can't be planned out and anticipated. He does see himself with you in the foreseeable future, though. For the present, he treasures each day he spends with you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

You would think that Rohan would be dominant in the relationship, given his fiery, sassy personality. Instead, he's quite passive when it comes to decision making. He's been with you long enough that he can let down his guard and be his authentic self around you.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Verbal altercations are prominent in this relationship. It can either be petty or a big blowout, and Rohan usually makes it a show by slamming doors and hiding in his office. He's extremely stubborn, but every fight you have eventually gets solved.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He really appreciates the fact that you put up with him, honestly. He feels like he is such a burden and protects himself by being moody and lashing out at others. You know that he appreciates when you spend time with him and help him grow as a person.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Rohan doesn't really have a reason to hide anything, besides major spoilers for his upcoming chapters (He wants it to he a surprise when you read). BUT, that being said, he has such a fat mouth. Don't tell him anything you don't want all of Morioh to know about.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Echoing themes in B and C, he is inspired to be more giving around you (and less selfish). Also, if we're talking literal inspiration there's a chance that there might be a new character showing up in Pink Dark Boy that looks a lot like you... 

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Rohan definitely faces issues with jealousy, to the point where he would become paranoid and make false accusations. It's one of his fatal flaws, and in order to make the relationship work, he needs to learn to trust.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Rohan is definitely an awkward kisser at first. Although he talks a big game, he is still quite unsure of himself and might need some guidance at first. You more than likely will have to initiate the act most times, but once he’s gotten used to the feeling he’ll want to take the lead.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He would sit with himself for quite a while to figure out what he wants out of the relationship. He most likely has never used the "L" word with anyone before, and that makes him extremely nervous. You would be eating dinner together when he tells you how he truly feels, and oh how overjoyed you are.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Rohan would marry you having several years of dating. He thought that he would end up alone since he was holed up in his house all day, but finding and having you was a godsend. You would move into his home, and Rohan wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Rohan doesn't get too colorful with nicknames, it's a pet peeve of his when he overhears people going overboard with their terms of affection. Really, who shows their love by calling your s/o love muffin?! He just can't understand. Your name works fine.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

At first, it's a sense of giddiness that he just can't pinpoint. Once he learns the reason for his feelings, he isn't really sure how to properly deal with them. Josuke gets on his nerves through his teasing though, since the way he's feeling is so transparent.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

As mentioned before, Rohan is very observant of how others are when in relationships. In his own, he wants to make sure that he doesn't fall into the same "traps". Only hand-holding in public, nothing more. (He'll totally brag in front of the Duwang gang though)

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

His memory. As an author, he has to remember so many things. Why would being in a relationship be any different? Every special moment he has with you will be cataloged, and when it comes around next year he'll never forget the (deadline) date.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He finds little ways to show his love to you. One way that he loves to spend time with you is by showing you how to draw. He’ll place his hand over yours as the pen dances across the paper. Although, you’ll never be as great as the mighty Rohan Kishibe. Creative for sure!

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Rohan may be rather grumpy and show the epitome of tough love, but whatever you choose to pursue he'll be backing you all the way. He teaches you to not be afraid of rejection and tries to make his experience as a mangaka applicable. You have his support for sure.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

He doesn't really feel the need to change the way things are. It's the casual outings that he values most, really. He'd rather get groceries with you or a book from the library than sky diving or something adventurous any day.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

One of Rohan's downfalls and something that he needs to work on is realizing when his partner is feeling down and out. While it's good to be in touch with your own feelings, now that he's in a relationship, there's another person's feelings to take into account. It's something that he'll need to work on and improve. (Hang in there, Rohan!)

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Before he met you, he was completely content with living and being alone. He's just grown used to being by himself. When he met you; however, things changed a lot. If you left him, there would be a gaping void that he definitely never noticed there before. You're his world, basically.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Rohan adores when you make him a homecooked meal. Before you met him, he was basically living off of take-out and fast food (how did he not gain weight?). Anyway, there's not a single recipe you've made that he doesn't like. For a present, you were planning on making him a book of your best recipes and trying them out together.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Rohan may complain all the way, but he secretly loves to be cuddled. He actually prefers to be the little spoon and feeling your arms around him. Prepare to not get up for hours; he feels so secure in your embrace.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Since he works from home, you're most likely the one who's away most of the time. He says that he'll be fine, but that's not true at all. He relies on the power of technology while he waits for you to get home, but of course, he would rather be talking to you in person. He has a lot of photographs that he looks at too.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Besides his fashion sense (epic burn), Rohan isn't really a flashy individual. He wouldn't do anything too extravagant in the relationship, because he knows that you would think he was trying too hard. If anything, he keeps his public and private life separate, since he values his privacy.

[kthstrawberryshortcake]

Headcanons / Reactions: BTS and matching couple things

This was just something random I thought was cute. 

I initially planned to write it as a reaction but the ideas flowed out better in headcanon / bullet form, so here you go!

Unedited because I am a trash gremlin. x 

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Namjoon

You’d been spending a lot of time in Namjoon’s studio lately

You took it as a chance just to be together in the same place, even when he was working

For a long while it was just you sitting there and reading while he did his thing

But gradually, he started asking your opinion on things

He’d have you listen to things and give your thoughts

He came to really value your opinion, telling you you had a good instinct for that sort of thing

You loved that you could be helpful to him for something beyond bringing food when he was busy

Of course, you were his most important emotional support as well

But his valuing your ideas when it came to his work meant a lot to you

You arrived at his studio one day when he was in the bathroom, so it was empty

Next to his headphones sat a new pair, a little different from his, with gold-tone accents on it, making them prettier too

Then you noticed the key detail

They had your initials on them

It felt like his way of saying, “you’re part of this now too”, and you felt yourself getting teary-eyed

He walked back in the room a minute later only for you to pull him into a hug, grinning widely

He laughed a little at your enthusiasm but held you tightly, giving your forehead a quick kiss before saying it was time to work

He sat down in his chair and gestured to the seat next to him

Jin

Jin got a little carried away sometimes

When the combination of matching couple stuff and his pride and joy RJ presented itself it was too much to resist

If he hadn’t looked so adorably excited when showing you what he’d gotten you definitely would’ve laughed

He had no joke ordered you matching RJ-print underwear

You were kind of simultaneously endeared and horrified

Then again you knew that you were in love with an actual crazy person so you shouldn’t have been shocked

So because Jin was too adorable to say no to when it came to silly things like this you went along with it

Plus you weren’t counting on anyone ever seeing the aforementioned embarrassing matching underwear

But you should’ve known there was no way the boys weren’t gonna find out and tease you both relentlessly about it

You slept over one night and ended up wearing the matching underwear

It was a warm night so you just wore the underwear and one of Jin’s t-shirts

By morning you’d both pushed all the covers off yourselves because of getting too hot in the night

It was still early so you were both fast asleep, you laying face down with your head on Jin’s chest

And, just your luck, Jimin had some question to ask Jin and came into the room without knocking

He froze when he realized you’d slept over so Jin wasn’t alone, thinking he probably SHOULD have knocked

All those thoughts went out the window when he realized that you two were wearing MATCHING RJ UNDERWEAR

It was everything Jimin could do to hold in his laughs but since he hadn’t woken the pair of you, he ran to get the guys

So that is how the other 6 boys ended up in the doorway trying not to laugh loud enough to wake you

I’m not sure I’ve you’ve noticed but they’re not particularly quiet so naturally they ended up waking Jin with their snickering

When he realized what was going on he hopped out of bed and shooed the boys away

Right before he shut the door he yell-whispered “You are so lucky she’s a heavy sleeper!”

And, predictably, neither you nor Jin EVER heard the end of it from the guys, who thought it was HILARIOUS

Yoongi

It was yours and Yoongi’s 2nd anniversary and you were about to depart for a rare weekend away

You’d been hearing about all the cute matching couple stuff that had being going on with the other members

You didn’t even think about matching things for you and Yoongi, knowing he would never agree to it

Sure he was a sweet marshmallow on the inside but the man was a straight up tsundere

So you didn’t even mention the matching thing to him

But Yoongi was incredibly observant, noticing far more than most realized

In this case, he noticed even more than YOU had realized

He’d seen the spark of amusement in your eyes when the matching concept came up in conversation

If nothing else, he thought, you found it to be entertaining

He decided to surprise you with some matching couple items, but he was going to do it his way

As soon as you were settled in your seats on the plane, he silently pulled his surprise out of the bag

They were matching eye masks for sleep

You told him how cute it was, only for him to insist that they were just a practical item for travel

You knew, and he knew that you knew, that it had been an intentional gesture of love

You didn’t push it, just enjoyed his surprising you

The pair of you fell asleep on the plane holding hands, both happily wearing your matching eye masks

Hoseok

Hoseok wasn’t really the “spends his days writing you sonnets and dedicating monuments to his love for you” romantic

That didn’t mean he didn’t really, really love you

Instead of constant words of affection he would give you little surprises

Sometimes they were small gifts, other times cute dates or even just showing up at your door with pizza for an impromptu movie night

You never for a minute had to doubt how he felt about you

He really was the sunshine in your life

It was early fall just when the weather was beginning to cool off

When you were hanging out with the boys for game night at their dorm, Hobi gave you one of his small surprises

He told you that half of the present was actually for him, which made you incredibly skeptical as to what that would mean

You pulled one hoodie out of the bag, then another

There were matching hoodies for the two of you

His said “her hope” on the back while yours said “his angel”

It seemed silly to cry over a hoodie but it really was just the sweetest present

Of course you later had an abundance of photos of the two of you from behind, holding hands while wearing your hoodies

It was kind of cheesy, really

But you loved the way it so simply told you (and everyone else) that you and Hobi belonged to each other

Jimin

Jimin wanted to give you something special for your anniversary

The whole “matching couple stuff” concept was really appealing to him

It was a small sign that you were his and he was yours, and it was there for all to see

He loved that idea, so he set out to find something that you’d like

It took him a long time to think of something that wasn’t just too generic

That is, until he thought about things you always said to each other

There were lots of little sayings and inside jokes between you, but one stood out in particular for this purpose

The two of you were always saying that he was your king and you were his queen

You both knew that was pretty cheesy but you kinda loved that

Jimin found matching rings that were crown-shaped, just enough to be obvious without looking tacky

They were actually really beautiful and he hoped you’d like it

Well, you LOVED it

Exactly as Jimin had hoped, the two of you got questions about them whenever you were apart

Not that you could ever forget each other in the first place, but it was a little reminder of your love in your everyday lives

Taehyung

Taehyung was telling you the hilarious story about the matching RJ underwear

You thought it was funny but you also defended the concept a little, saying it was kinda cute that they matched

The conversation moved on from there and you thought Tae had just forgotten about it, but noooo

Your casual comment about the matching being cute had gotten the little wheels turning in his head

Being, well, himself, he ended up taking the concept to a whole other level

He took the idea of matching and did it in the most sophisticated way possible

Next time the boys had some award show to go to, to which you were accompanying Tae, you were in for a surprise

Your dress was custom and in the most gorgeous patterned silky fabric

You were shocked when Taehyung showed you the lining of his jacket

It was the exact. same. fabric.

So he HAD been listening to you finding the matching idea cute

If that wasn’t enough, he had also gotten a little bowtie collar made for Tannie in the same fabric

You thought it was ADORABLE but were a little confused as to why, since Tan obviously wasn’t coming to the event

Well, your totally extra boyfriend had planned to have a photographer do family pictures of the three of you before you left

It was really quite sweet

It also taught you to be VERY careful what you said you liked around Tae, because he definitely remembered

Jungkook

It was your birthday

As long as you’d known him Jungkook had always been great at picking out meaningful gifts for the people in his life

You would’ve been happy just spending the day with him, honestly

But Jungkook was ridiculously in love with you, and also, as you were all too aware by now, very sentimental

He wanted to do something special

When you opened the gift you almost cried

He had drawn the two of you in a cartoonish style

The drawing itself was absolutely adorable

He’d also had it put on the back of a phone case for you.

He smiled at your reaction and held up his own phone, which had an identical case, saying “now we match!”

It probably was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you

As much as you teased him for being sappy at times, you loved that about him

You loved everything about him really

Best birthday ever

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That’s all folks. <3 

I  love feedback so send some over please!

[babysprouseisart]

Honestly more things are pointing to a permanent separation for SH. No indications of any reconciliation sadly. And it makes it even harder without the confirmation. I guess when they start to get papped with their new SOs will be the day that it is confirmed they are done. And I hope it is soon. This push and pull with them is exhausting

Good day, anon, and welcome to hell. Screams for help will not save you, alas, because when it comes to a topic in which I am 99, 9% sure, I have no equals. I'm sorry you probably got the wrong address, but it's too late. I am merciless and bloodthirsty with anyone who tries to contradict my faith, tries to correct my point of view and convince me of their own, although I did not give it a reason. Because it's my fucking blog where I for x-billionth time has already expressed my exact points and agreed with some people which think and proved the exact opposite to all that you are saying. So be prepared to be slowly but surely tortured by my long ass post.

 So, let's start with what I said about my blog: only good vibes here. I am not interested/concerned about other opposite/negative feedings. I just don't want to make a big deal about it. Here, in my blog, we support Lili Pauline Reinhart and Cole Mitchell Sprouse in any case as couple as well as individuals.

 This means that under no circumstances do we talk about them, their relationships, their projects, their family, or their decisions in a negative way. Yes, we may disagree with something they do, where they do it, and how they do it (what they post, what they like/don't like, write or repost, who they meet, with whom they decide to be, live and communicate with, what they archive/unarchive, and so on), but we do not have the right to judge them or decide how to act. We also can't control it and it's none of our business.

 I repent if I once made the appearance of a person condemning one of them or their family for their actions and possible causes of the separation, it was only my objective external disagreement, points and thoughts aloud, nothing more rude, involved and inappropriate. And I think with many of my words said earlier (or the words of those I follow and reblog their posts) about the behavior of family/friends of Lili, Cole, and so on, people with brains and common sense could agree. Remember this, or write it on your forehead, so that the next time you write to me, you will see these words.

 Moving on, taking into account all of the above, I would like to tell you that it probably won't be enough for one blog to explain to you point by point all my beliefs and points of view on this subject, to prove to you that every fucking word you say is illogical shit and the most real nonsense. It feels like you're an alien who fell from another planet and decided to crawl into our hole with your impressions of a newborn baby who doesn't understand much about the world and its creators. Although in this case, I'm more of the opinion that you are a little asshole, in which the vein of hatred is boiling and you like to come to this and some other blogs to tell us your agenda although we have no idea where you have such rash thoughts, perhaps you have an extra chromosome? Dude, treat your paranoia.

 Further, given that I don't have much time and desire to describe all my points of view point by point, which, unlike your random set of words, really makes sense for hundreds or even thousands of people who have the gray matter to be able to think, I will attach my long - standing post, indicating all the facts at that time proving the opposite to yours. Although, I will try to supplement everything else as much as I can.

 While, we all ( I hope) already realized and accepted that for many reasons, during this quarantine, Lili and Cole had some problems, were distant and ended up apart for a certain period of time, immediately after the end point of the explosion and informing us of all these public actions on social media (I hope you understand), then after a few weeks, they were already confidently moving towards resolution and recovery and that's why:

https://babysprousehart.tumblr.com/post/618026656780648448/hello-i-hope-this-doesnt-come-off-negatively

This was written long before, but still has many valid points and I just want to widen some of them.

Take a sit and follow me word by word.

I shall start my addition of evidence, based on all the guesses and great opinions of others, as well as hints from the Lili and Cole themselves. I would like to start with a significant event and the day when Lili posted a photo from the Antelope Valley on April 28th, well, or 27th, depending on where you are.

Perhaps we lose some missing pieces in this puzzle and forget about something that was done earlier, but I just want to start counting from this moment.

A few facts about this photo/photos:

1) It was posted exactly 3 years later from their famous photoshoot, when very, very, very many people, mostly in media, began to suspect that there is something between them in a romantic way. It was exactly in the same place, exactly with the same style, exactly in a similar image (waving curly hair, light flying dress, black and white effect) and even without a capture. The picture marked the anniversary and is very important for the two of them. An undeniable fact, beat me.

2) That photo was definitely taken by Cole. Why?

Here are a couple more facts in addition to the first:

They have the quality of captured on professional camera.

You can see, that Lili did not tag the photographer and said jokingly that the photo was taken by Milo, why would she lie, or hide that it was anyone else, because clearly she just hid that because it was Cole.

You may have noticed that Austin, when asked who took the photo, whether she took it and whether she is a good photographer, says no and her reaction with a grin and laugh is priceless. She also didn't tag nor the photographer, neither Lili in her photos from there.

You can watch the vlog in the Colleen blog and see there are very similar figures to Cole, Lili and Milo walking along the valley, because, duh, they were there.

You can view her post, where you can see Cole from the back (notice his dark clothing, the same as on one of his post in the profile, which he has already deleted, as well as his position from which the photo of Lili was supposedly taken and it is just in the same place).

You can observe his style of photography and how similar the theme is to the photos from 2017.

You can see the same poppy behind his ear in one of the past stories.

You may have noticed that the photo of Lili is processed with the same effect as several photos in Cole's profile, and I can tell you as an amateur photo editor that it is very identical.

Question: why arrange such a significant photoshoot with your ex after a few weeks of separation? Why is Cole smiling in a photo (black and white one with a mustache and black clothes) probably taken there? Why is everything so secretive if they broke up? Why even post a photo that your ex-boyfriend definitely took? How can you calmly go to this place, which reminds you of your joint travels with your former lover? Therefore, this photo and later another one from there were the first iron arguments in confirming the improvement of things.

 I would like to continue with another ironclad proof.

Lili in early may very fiercely, after a few weeks of Cole's statements about slander and threats, which she did not respond to so clearly at the time, defended Cole and pointed out the private relationship and literally said that people should stop it and even though should hurt and bully her, but not him.

Question: did she defend her ex so publicly? Would Lili talk about a private relationship if that was the way her past relationship was most often? Would she have written anything at all if she didn't care about him and didn't feel something towards him? I don't think so, so it's gibberish to say so (about the break up) when it's the second unquestionable argument.

 Next, we need to talk about the general activity of Cole and Lili in social media. I just want to list some observations, in different order, but it seems like everything we have now:

If earlier it was visible in the posts of Lili that it was clearly a show off, then over time and after the published photos, she began to behave more sincerely and tenderly, began to publish Milo less, began to say that there was only the two of them less, has stopped showing how good she is without certain someone, as if for Cole showing that she could cope without him, which was visible in the posts and stories, she began to talk more about improving her mental health as a result of training, spoke about how later she was feeling better and that she was grateful for those who were with her and difficult times and in light moments, that you just need to live and enjoy.

Additionally, I can say how she shone with each photo, and it was a natural glow of happiness and settling down. She no longer sang sad songs or posted sad songs, on the contrary, posted sexy, funny and relaxed ones. She appeared more in photos taken by paparazzi. She posted sexy, energetic, romantic movies, funny cartoons, watched funny clips, was excited about her project, laughed, danced with her dog, played with a dog with macaroni, cosplayed Willy Wonka (we all have a feeling it’s Cole’s thing, no?), playing with sand, puzzles, posted funny memes in story, which unfortunately coolly accepted as the opposite, posted a poem with a typo and funny answered to a fan who corrected it, told more about poems and attached a photo with a fragment of a poem about love from her upcoming book. She liked some photos from the anniversary of the last episode of the series, where we remember there was a hot scene of her and Cole's character, she liked a Bughead drawing. Yesterday, she actually posted one of the sexiest videos that will not be posted, being single and lonely, we saw that she actually spent more personal time with Cole (I am not saying they weren’t doing t back then), which was investigated thanks to many amazing people here, and even if they don't live together yet, they are more likely to meet and have met with each other, and more hints on sexy times (because, come one, maybe Milo was the one who left a hickey on her neck, huh?), which is undeniable, just compare the fact that she is no longer in the old rental, and he is not in Kj's house, she then posted a photo from some place, which is very similar to where Cole shot a video with Jimmy Fallon.

 He also began to be more active in social networks, exactly after she started posting photos of the Antelope Valley, he posted a series of photos of the kissing couple, even if it was a gay drawings, they were filled with love, there was a photo of him with cattle with the sarcastic caption, then the photo about porn bots, with funny ask to leave him alone and saying it’s not allowed to be horny on quarantine, again a photo of himself with heart eyes that I talked about above, he posted a very funny video recently. There were more photos from the paparazzi after some time when Lili's usually flashed, and then it stopped, then his humorous photo in the washing machine appeared, which she probably had taken, and why so I explained in the attached post, he posted a photo from the walk, which was also probably taken with her, because again, she had a similar location, then he jokingly called Tommy ‘the’ muse, maybe roasting fans, but he didn’t use ‘my’, so, indicating he still has his own muse, then we saw him at that damn party, which caused people's panic, although he is an ordinary person and has the right to relax, and by the way at this party he was very happy and frisky, but nothing bad or shameful happened and he is innocent, then we even saw Cole, after Lili, delete many of the photos, although he had also unarchived some of them several times, as she had, which means that he did not delete them completely, but just removed many of them, leaving the most tender photo after or before the kiss at the famous moment when Lili wanted a toast and eggs at 1 am, or many photos reflecting her body, which also marks not a bad phenomenon, but a simple trolling from them. Proof of this trolling and unarchiving is on the vastness of other blogs and on Twitter, thanks to that girl's video.

 The way their condition and activity on social networks have changed is very noticeable and is also third undeniable fact of denial of the break up. You can compare photos of Cole taken by Alex, where he is clearly very sad and depressed, because it was taken somewhere in the interval of their real breakup. And compare this with his smiling and playful state during the interview with Jimmy, where he also sparkled with happiness and fun, constantly smiling and seemed to be aroused about something (or someone). I think even a newcomer will notice a change in their mood and attitude. You will see the difference. And this does not happen when going through the break up after 4 years of deeply imbued with love relationships. Please understand, damn it.

 I have listed alas not everything that speaks so vividly about things going in the right positive direction and is evidence that everything is getting better again, there will be only more I assure you and you will kiss my ass, as Cole said.

 Execution cannot be pardoned.

 You have one attempt to put a comma and decide your fate, but I think you’ll  fail because you are a total sucker anyway.

 Bye!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #371

“some of those that work forces are the same that burn crosses”

What is one song you feel as though you sing particularly well, if any? Probably none, lol. What was the last lengthy task you completed? I love these unique questions I've had lately, but damn, are a lot of my answers "I don't know," lol. What type of photography do you enjoy looking at? Do you take any photos yourself, and if so, what types of things do you prefer to photograph? I love floral and wildlife photography. Landscapes, too, and I have a great fondness for boudoir for reasons I've mentioned in previous surveys. I like taking nature pictures, mainly. Have you ever gone out for the Black Friday shopping rush? Did you enjoy it, or not so much? Or, what’s the busiest shopping day you’ve ever experienced? Hell no, that's a hard pass. I'm sure the busiest shopping experience I've had was like at the mall or something around Christmas, idk. Do you enjoy reading diaries or stories you wrote from when you were younger, or does it embarrass you? If you’ve kept them, was there a particular reason for hanging on to them so long? NO. I DON'T. BECAUSE I CRINGE INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION. I keep a lot of it for memory's sake, but goddamn, is it always embarrassing. What would you say was your first true hobby? What about your most recently developed one? Um... the first thing I really remember is video games. I played Spyro like, a LOT, along with other childhood games. I was just really into gaming at a young age. Is there one thing that throws off your mood more than others, whether it be lack of sleep, lack of food, heat/cold, etc., and when was the last time you felt especially cranky? THE HEAT. I become so irritable. I was needlessly cranky a few days ago for whatever reason. What kinds of things are you likely to complain about? My legs hurting, more than anything. Also being hot. Do you like to put any extra effort into your food in terms of presentation, or do you prefer to just put it on a plate and eat it as it is, no frills? Ha, no. It's not gonna look fancy in my stomach, so whatever. Have you ever dated someone who had kids? No, and I very much doubt I ever would. Are there any candles in the room with you? No. Does the last person you kissed have tattoos? No, but I tell her all the time that dainty nature tattoos would be THE most beautiful on her. When was the last time someone called you pretty? I think when I last updated my Facebook profile picture. Do you like the color pink? It's my favorite! Does your cell phone have a case on it? What color? It came with this thin purple one. What was the last song you had on repeat? "Moon Baby" by Godsmack. Ever kissed someone your parents hated? No. Your most recent ex says he/she hates you, you say? I wouldn't *say* anything, I'd break down sobbing. Would you feel hurt if your last ex was in a relationship? No. Have you ever had to choose between two people? Yes: Jason and Juan. Juan and I dated for less than a day not all that long before Jason and I got together, and Juan was pretty upset. He was nooot a fan of Jason due to a shared ex-girlfriend. Jason, meanwhile, just didn't care. What is the saddest thing that has happened to you? What about the happiest? I think the saddest thing has to be my breakup, especially when you know just how madly in love I was with him and had endless trust that he would never leave, and then he was gone in a flash one night. The happiest is, in turn, my recovery from said split. I found strength in myself and felt hope for once as I learned coping mechanics and got a psychiatrist that was worth a shit in my partial hospitalization program. What was the last new drink you discovered that was delicious? *shrug* Do you have a YouTube channel? Yes. I don't make videos anymore, though. Were you happy as a teenager? God no, my depression was awful. What do you do for your mom on Mother’s Day? Sigh. Not enough. I just tell her happy Mother's Day, give her a hug, and try to be an extra good daughter. Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? No. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I can do it alone (but only have once), but I like to bring my mom with me still. Would you have sex with someone of the same gender as you? I'm bi, so. Have you ever had a concussion? One or two, I can't remember. How many dresses do you own? Zero. Do you know anyone who has a pet gecko? Yeah, my friend Summer has a darling leopard gecko. I want oneeeeee. They look so damn derpy and adorable, and their chill demeanor is something I really like in pets. Would you ever go bear hunting? No. Absolutely never. Do you prefer drawing or painting? Any particular reason why? Drawing, for sure. At least you can erase stuff, and paint is just so messy. Do you like raisins? NO THANKS MAN. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? Nope. Do you forget to flip the page of your calendar at the start of each month? I don't have a calendar. Are you racist to any race? Nope. Have you ever intentionally hurt an animal? I've given cats and dogs a small pop on the rear, but nothing more than that. I hate doing even that, but with the language barrier and all, sometimes it's the only way to get your point across. Do you own any autographed memorabilia? No. Have you ever dated a twin? No. Oreos or Chips Ahoy? Oreos. Have you ever considered being a cop? Yeah, no thank you. What’s your favorite superhero movie? Maybe Logan. I thought it was very emotional and just overall a good movie. Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: MY MOM. Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: uhhhhhhhh Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: Dancing, maybe. Which is worse: Stale chips or flat soda? Stale chips, for sure. It's certainly not my preference, but I can drink flat soda. Who’s the hottest guy and hottest girl out there? M-Mark Fischbach. :') Girl... let's seeeeee... maybe Alissa White-Gluz from Arch Enemy. GodDAMN what a WOMAN. ❤_❤ Do you ever trip over your pets? Yes, because he just looooves to follow me at my feet. What’s your relationship like with your exes? Aaron, Juan, Jason, and Tyler: nonexistent. Sara and Girt: great. What was the last thing you turned down doing? Going to my nephew's t-ball game. I always feel bad when I say no when Mom asks if I wanna go... but at least the kids know I just don't handle the heat well. Are you a party animal? Faaaaar from it, my friend. Who are you the biggest fan of? m-m-m-mMARKIPLIER You’re DJ for the night - first track to get everyone going? Uhhhh maybe "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K.? Have you ever been hit on by a pushy person? I think Juan was kinda pushy, but not to an uncomfortable degree. He respected what I felt. What accent do you find attractive? Most attractive, British. But I also really like Scottish and Irish. Also French accents in women I tend to find very beautiful-sounding. Have you ever had feelings for a friend's partner? Yes. What’s your favorite thing to do that doesn’t cost much? Drive around take pictures, maybe? Let's, uh, ignore the whole gas crisis in this answer. When in danger are you more fight or flight? Flight. Do you feel self conscious about a certain body part? *gestures to entire body* Have you been accused of being manipulative? Yes. Have you ever considered violence to solve your problem? No. Are you romantic? I personally think so. If you are a smoker, how long does a pack typically last you? If you aren’t a smoker, does anybody you are close to smoke, & if so, are you against the fact that they’re a smoker? I don't smoke. To answer the next part, yes, like my dad and stepmom. I wish they would stop so badly, like it's literally going to kill them both. Do you have more subscribers or more people that you are subscribed to? On YouTube? I'm definitely subscribed to waaay more people. Is there anything that has been drilled into your brain since you were young & you finally decided to stop listening to? How did it feel once you decided to listen to yourself over what you were told? Yes: "finish your plate." Teaching your kid to eat beyond their comfort can be very destructive, and I'm glad I never stuck to that once Mom stopped enforcing it. If you are currently in a relationship, what is one thing that seems to be unique or different about your relationship with this person, compared to other relationships in general? If you are currently single, is this more of a choice or is it more just the way things are going, not really something you chose? If you are neither “single” or officially in a relationship, what are your feelings on your current situation? I'm single, and it's just how it is. I know realistically I wouldn't tell what felt like the right person no, but it really is probably better that I stay single and keep figuring my shit out. Think of somebody famous that you have a lot of respect for. What is something that you really admire them for? To name just one thing I admire in Mark, his relentless "I'm going to do this no matter what" attitude is very inspirational to me. He lets like... n-o-t-h-i-n-g get in his way. If somebody were to leave a harsh comment on a survey you took, judging you on one of your opinions, how would you react? I'd get pretty self-conscious, just because I in general take judgment quite poorly. I obsess over "what if they're right, and you're just an idiot?". Are there any other sites you use to find surveys to take? What sites do you use? I mainly use Tumblr and LiveJournal, but in times of great desperation, I'll use Bzoink and just google surveys as well, haha. Have you sent or received any friend requests on Facebook lately? Not sent, but I got one from someone I had no mutual friends with the other day. Safe to say I declined it. Can you recall the last time you turned down an offer, of any kind? Uhhhhh no. Which fruit would you say you eat the most often? Apples. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman has been to the vet once to get neutered (and I think shots?). I took Venus many years ago because I thought she had a respiratory infection. Thank god, she didn't. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at pet stores? The reptiles, snakes in particular. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a restaurant? Like, over an hour. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? Cavities and braces, yes. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? Probably polar bears. Like especially here, it gets so hot in the summer, and the poor things sometimes only have a bit of snow in the shade. Like... they can't be very happy. Especially when you see those videos of them playing in snow, and then you think about situations like our zoo here... ugh. What kinds of artifacts fascinate you? I really think old figurines built with like clay and stuff are cool. But all artifacts I find to be very intriguing. It's so interesting to see that the desire to create has always been with us as a species. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No.

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

BTS Scenario| They plan a surprise for your birthday

This was written for the ever lovely and angelic @saymynamewithluv​

Happy birthday. :D  I hope you have the best day and this is my birthday present to you (with Taehyung giving you something a little extra for your birthday. What is it? Well you’ll just have to read and see :D) 💜💜💜💜 I wish I could spend your birthday with you it sucks that we live so far away from each other. Alright go ahead and read now I have been making you wait for this for days so again, HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I purple you! 

The group chat you had with the boys was surprisingly quiet today. Which of course immediately made you suspicious. Usually the chat was buzzing with them talking about the most random things. And at the very least Yoongi or Jin were scolding the younger members for something silly they had done. But there was nothing, not even a happy birthday text from any of them. 

You weren’t going to lie. You were starting to feel extremely disappointed. Did they forget your birthday? But how could they have? You had been friends with all of them for years. You sent a message to the group chat, wanting to see what they were up to today. 

What are you all doing today?

Yoongi is the first one to respond which is unusual for him.

Photoshoot today. We’re all really busy sorry y/n. 

Oh. That’s okay. Make sure to rest and don’t skip any meals you guys! 

Will do. Thanks.

You sigh and set your phone down. So it wasn’t unreasonable that they forgot then. They seemed to be extremely busy. But you were still disappointed you wouldn’t get to spend your birthday with the people who meant the most to you in this world. You turn on the TV, turning on your favorite show to binge watch. You throw your hair up in a messy bun and throw your sweat pants back on, figuring you aren’t going to have any company over today. You don’t even realize you’d fallen asleep on the couch until suddenly your hear hushed whispers in your apartment. 

“She fell asleep! What the heck?!”

“Be quiet, Taehyung let her rest.”

“But it’s her birthday! Did she really think we forgot?”

“Hyung that’s probably why she fell asleep and is still in her sweat pants I told you trying to surprise her was a bad idea now she thinks we forgot her birthday!” Suddenly you feel a heavy weight on top of you. Your eyes shoot open and you see Taehyung’s familiar eyes gazing at you as he hugs you tightly. 

“Y/n! We are so sorry! We didn’t forget your birthday I promise. We just wanted to make you think we did so we could surprise you! Which now that I say that out loud I realize how mean that prank sounds oh gosh.” You are blushing madly having Taehyung so close to you and you wonder how he can be so unbothered. You collect your thoughts, and reach out to pat his head.

“It’s okay Tae! I am just so happy you guys are here now. I couldn’t imagine spending my birthday without you all.” Taehyung smiles happily at that and clambers off of you after Yoongi clears his throat. “ Uh so what do you all have planned for me today?” 

“I’m cooking dinner and the cake!” Jin yells from the kitchen. 

“I’m supplying the entertainment.” Hoseok says as he spins around dancing without a care in the world, making you laugh.

“I thought maybe me and you and Jimin could play some games together.” Jungkook announces as he walks over to the TV to set up his game system. 

“I brought a playlist of all your favorite songs.” Namjoon says. 

“I just brought my cutie sexy lovely face isn't that good enough?” Jimin says with a giggle. 

“Yes, that is good enough for me, Jimin.” 

“I am going to be taking the photos of your special day! And also supplying you with the best, most amazing birthday present you’ve ever seen.” Taehyung says excitedly. You smile at him.

“Oh I can’t wait to see what it is then!” You glance at Yoongi who still hasn’t said anything or shown much reaction to the rest of the things the members had mentioned. 

“Well obviously I am here to spend time with you for your birthday, but I actually wanted to talk to you about something first.”

“Oh? Okay then. We can go to my room?” Yoongi nods. Taehyung eyes you two suspiciously but doesn’t say anything as you retreat into the bedroom. You shut the door behind you and talk quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear your conversation.

“Yoongi? Is everything okay?”

“So uh, you still like Taehyung right?” You stare ay him incredulously. 

“Um, yes? Of course I do? Feelings just don’t go away over night you know? I’ve liked him for years.” 

“Okay good.”

“Why?”

“Because just.. I can’t tell you anything but I just had to make sure before Taehyung gives you your gift.” 

“What on earth is going on Yoongi?” 

“Nothing! Forget I said anything this conversation never happened.” Yoongi opens the door and Taehyung stumbles in, almost falling on his face but you catch him before he does. 

“Kim Taehyung were you eavesdropping?” Yoongi scolds him. 

“No! And even if I was I couldn’t hear anything you guys were saying anyway so..” 

“Sounds to me like you were eavesdropping then Tae, just not successfully.” You ruffle his hair and he swats your hand away playfully. 

“Yah! Don’t mess up my hair I spent a long time on it.” 

“Why? Did you want to look good for me?” Taehyung’s face turns bright red and he glances away from you. 

“Stop teasing me.” 

“Okay okay. I’m sorry. Let’s go have this birthday party shall we?”

And your party was so much fun. Jin made the most incredible food and cake. Hoseok and Namjoon danced to your favorite songs with you, only to have Taehyung steal you away for a dramatic slow dance equipped with dips and spins and all when a softer ballad came on. You had beat Jungkook and Jimin in Mario Kart, Taehyung challenged you and you had beat him too, much to his disappointment. He got quite competitive and challenged you to another round, only to lose again. The party was winding down, when all of the members started looking at Taehyung. You saw him nod his head slightly and now suddenly they all had an excuse to leave. 

“Gotta get to the studio early tomorrow.” 

“Me too.”

“I need to practice this choreography.”

“And I need to come up with some new ones.”

“I don’t have an excuse I just know Taehyung wants to be alone with you so we’re all leaving bye!” Jin shouts as he ushers the rest of them out the door. You and Taehyung are still sat on the floor together from your video game match. You notice he is fidgeting with his hands and looking rather nervous. 

“Taehyung?”

“Um.. I want to give you your present now.” 

“Okay.. I would love to see what it is.” You reach your hand out and squeeze his to help comfort him and calm his nerves down. He squeezes back and the corner of his mouth barely lift up in a smile. He won’t meet your gaze. You wonder what he could possibly be so nervous about to give you. He stands up abruptly, walking over to the counter where he had set your gift and then lays it in your lap. It’s wrapped in purple paper and a purple bow.

“Did you wrap this?”

“Was it that obvious? Am I that bad at wrapping? I tried my best.” He says with a nervous laugh.

“No no! It’s just purple. I know how much that color means to you. So I figured you had.” This time when he smiles it reaches his eyes, but his hands are trembling. You open the gift and are staring at what looks like a photo album. The cover has a saying written on it in his handwriting. 

If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph. 

Your breath hitches as you turn the page and see it is filled with photos of you, and the two of you. You had no idea Taehyung had even taken some of these photos of you. They were candid, you smiling, laughing, concentrating on a canvas you were painting, a drawing you were sketching. 

And then there were the selfies you two had taken together. Some including Yeontan. You flipped through the pages, feeling tears forming behind your eyes at how thoughtful the gift was, but also how much meaning he had poured into this. 

“Tae.. Is this really how you see me?”

“As the most beautiful, kind, caring, amazing person in the world? Yes.” 

“And this phrase in the beginning. Did you mean that?”

“Of course I did.”

“So does that mean..? Is this?”

“My way of confessing? Kind of yeah. Um.. either that or it can just be a really cool platonic present no worries!” He scratches the back of his head and gazes at you nervously. You stare at him, until your brain finally catches up and you throw yourself into his arms. He immediately reciprocates the hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly. Your voice cracks as a few tears slip out. 

“This is the most incredible gift anyone has given me. I can tell you really put your heart and soul into this and I will cherish it for the rest of my life.” 

“You know there’s a few blank pages in there. I was hoping we could fill them up with some more photos of us?” You pull away and smile at him. You grab his camera off the coffee table and hand it to him. You turn around so your back is leaning against his chest. You both smile and he takes a photo, kissing your cheek right before he takes the photo. It’s a polaroid, so you two have to wait a few moments for the film to develop. When it finally does you both break out into wide smiles and giggles seeing how happy you both look in the photo. You open up to a blank page, and stick the photo to there. You pull out a pen to write on the blank space. 

“What should we write here?”

“Hmm..” You think for a moment before you write today’s date, along with A new chapter begins. Taehyung’s smile is replaced with a nervous glance again. 

“So does this mean you like the gift? Um.. in a nonplatonic way?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious when I threw myself on you crying.” 

“I just want to hear you say it.”

“Say what? That I like you too? That I think you also are the most beautiful, kind, caring, amazing person I have ever met in my life?” 

“Yeah that. All that. Well, a simple I like you too would have done just fine but I won’t turn down the extra praise.” You laugh and hold your hand out to him. He looks puzzled bit takes your hand anyway. 

“Y/n where are we going?”

“You really expect me to believe those guys left? They’re all probably still sitting outside the apartment waiting to hear every detail.” You open the front door, hand in hand with Taehyung and sure enough, they all are standing out there, wide eyed until they glance down at your linked hands. 

“Did it work?! Are you two together now?!” Jimin asks excitedly. 

“Yes. We are.” They all clap and cheer, Yoongi just stands in the back giving you a small smile and knowing look. It’s at this moment you are hit with just how fond you are of all them. Seeing how much effort they put into making you happy on your birthday, you are so grateful to them. 

“Thank you guys. This has been the best birthday ever and it’s because of you all.” 

“Of course y/n! You’re our best friend and there isn’t a single thing we wouldn’t do for you to make you smile.”

[jacksonroseroth]

Waste Love Chapter 6

A/N: I told you it would be up before the end of the year :P Sorry this took me so long, thanks for being patient! <3 I hope you guys like this chapter! Ch7 probably won’t be up until WELL after the new year, I’m aiming for before Feb...We’ll see. ENJOY!

Warnings: Arguments/fighting, swearing, weed usage

Words:4,834

Moodboard by the ever amazing and constant awesome person @badwolf-in-the-impala​, none of the pictures are ours

~

Previous Chapter

~

The next morning, with only Slim aware that something had happened in Colson’s room, everyone got up and got ready for their day off. Slim avoided Jersey as best he could without drawing attention to it. Jersey and Colson managed to miss each other the entire morning, until Jersey popped out of the bathroom as Colson reached for the handle, unaware it was occupied. When the door slid open, Colson stopped and jumped a little, giving a chuckle before he saw Jersey walk out. His smile dropped quickly as she looked up at him. While she was initially startled by him, she quickly realized she didn’t know how to feel or act toward him after the night before.

She was 100% crossed, but her high was stronger than her buzz, so she was able to remember everything from that night. She watched Colson’s face, trying to find how she should react, but when he didn’t miss a beat, it threw her off. He gave her a half-smile and said, “Jesus, Sav. We gotta put a bell on you.”

Jersey stepped out of the bathroom and Colson chuckled again before walking in and shutting the door. She stood there for a moment, a little stunned, chewing her lip trying to figure out how to approach him to talk to him about last night. She didn’t have to wonder long. The boys all gathered either outside the bus or up in front, leaving Jersey and Colson as the last two in the bunks. Jersey went to her bunk and tossed her dirty clothes into a bag, stuffing it back under her bunk, and grabbed a pair of sandals to slip them on. As she did, the bathroom door opened again and she turned.

“Hey. Colson. Wait up.” Jersey said, catching his arm, half using him as balance as she pulled on her other sandal. Colson turned, stopping when he felt her grip his arm. He glanced down at her hand, then over to her, taking her hand and holding her upright. “Thanks. Um...Can I talk to you?”

“About what? What happened?” He asked. The question made Jersey stop for a moment, studying him before she went on to say, “Um, about last night-”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, it didn’t mean anything, right?” Colson asked, with a shrug. Jersey blinked, her face rushing through a series of emotions as she struggled to force a smile and said, “R-Right. I-Yeah, I-I figured, but I wanted to...You know, talk to you to make sure...We...We were drunk…”

“Yeah. And high. We used protection…” He gave another shrug and said, “So, there’s nothing to talk about...Unless you’re worried about Rook?”

Inside, Jersey was screaming. While she had the conversation planned out in her head, what she would say if Colson did take that night to mean something, what her answer would have been in response, nothing was going to that plan. Not while Colson continued to be so nonchalant about it. But she was having the conversation, which is what she wanted in the first place. Taking a breath, she forced a wider smile and nodded, saying, “Yeah. I don’t want him to hear about it and flip out. You know? And it jeopardizes-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Colson chuckled, holding up his hands for a moment. then touching her arm. “Savie, you don’t have to explain yourself. I get it. Rook would beat my ass if he found out. I’d probably lose a drummer, or I’d lose you as a photographer. Or both.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile and he added, “I won’t tell Rook. Promise.” He held out his pinky to her and chuckled. Jersey couldn’t help but smile and link her pinky with his and said, “Promise.”

He smiled and kissed her cheek before passing her to walk off the bus, leaving Jersey to lean against her bunk, huffing out a soft sigh. She chewed her lip as her thoughts sorted themselves out before she finally pushed herself off and strode off the bus. Jersey knew she had to set it all aside, especially if Colson was going to. So she bounced off the bus and over to Rook, kissing his cheek and making him chuckle as he put his arm around her.

“Damn. You’re not hungover at all.” Rook teased her, giving her side a small squeeze. Jersey giggled and shrugged.

“You seem to forget my mother is Irish,” Jersey said in a sweet voice. The group laughed while Rook mocked her and rolled his eyes, soon smirking and chuckling along as well. Jersey giggled, softly, and glanced around as she scrunched her nose at them, then said, “So, what’s the plan today?”

“We’re gonna check out the venue. Uh, we got a few interviews for radio stations and shit.” Slim said, pulling out his phone to scroll through the schedule. Colson stepped in and added, “We should have some time to grab a bite somewhere and I think we’re going to a club tonight.”

“Hey, where were we gonna stop to get some green?” Rook asked, nudging Baze to nudge Slim.

“Uh, I found some places nearby. We’re gonna stop after the interviews I think.” Slim replied, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Where’s this first place at, Slim?” Colson asked, turning to him. Slim pointed across the street and Colson smirked and nodded before they crossed the street.

~

The day blew by pretty quickly. Since Jersey wasn’t particularly needed for the interviews and easily moved around the stage while the guys checked out their set up, doing a quick soundcheck, she mainly spent the day hanging back with the guys and smoked steadily throughout the day, taking a few hits here and a few drinks there, as well. She was pleasantly high by the time they got back to the bus to get ready for the night.

Not wanting to be too dressed up, but at least look nice, Jersey wore a pair of black pants and sandals, accompanied by a maroon, puffy-sleeved crop top with a black strapless bra. She gave a little beach wave to her hair before lining her eyes in black, with a little mascara. As she clasped a necklace around her neck and tugged on a bracelet, she stopped, staring at the ring on her right hand and sighed. No one had seemed to mention it all day, but she caught Colson checking to see if she was wearing it more than once that day. She was utterly baffled by this man and his actions. While she knew the meaning of the ring, it was Colson’s meaning behind the gift that she questioned, especially after the last 24 hours. She ultimately decided to leave it, grabbed her clutch and shoved her phone and wallet into it before walking out to the front.

“Hey. Are we taking shots or what? What’s going on?” Jersey teased, bumping Slim’s hip lightly as he mixed a drink. He chuckled and glanced at her before making one for her.

“No shots right now. We’re waiting for, uh, Rook’s in the shower, Baze is outside smoking a cig...I think AJ’s on the phone, and Colson is getting dressed.” Slim said, quickly doing the math and adding a few extra names. Jersey giggled and leaned on the counter next to him and said, “So, we’re waiting on JP and Kells?”

“Glad nothing is changing?” Slim laughed. Jersey chuckled and took a sip of her drink. Both of them went silent, Jersey listening for anyone that could interrupt her conversation. When she decided it was quiet enough, she looked at Slim and said, “Slim, about last night--Don’t fucking cut me off. Everyone is doing that lately and it’s pissing me off.”

Slim snapped his mouth shut when Jersey gave him a fierce look. He gave her a small nod to continue, which she did. “I just…” She paused for a moment and sighed. “What exactly did you...See? Hear?”

“Listen. Jersey, I-I don’t know what’s going on with y’all--You’re one way with Colson...Then weird around Baze like you like him? And then you come out of Colson’s room--I-It’s more to do with Colson than you, babe. If I’m honest.” Slim said. Jersey blinked and tilted her head. At the gesture, Slim froze, suddenly realizing Colson still hadn’t said a damn thing to this girl about his feelings. Nevertheless, Jersey asked, “What do you mean? What’s going on with Colson? About me?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I only know that him and Rook are close. So...You know, I don’t want him to have made it seem like one way to you and then hurt you. I mean, you know Rook’s overprotective when it comes to you. Especially with us.” Slim gave a soft chuckle, trying to play it off. Jersey seemed to buy it but was still a little iffy about it. But she didn’t have time to pry as Baze and AJ climbed back onto the bus. Jersey glanced at them before burying her nose in her drink, turning around to grab a handful of Skittles and munch on them as she passed the boys, going to sit in the booth.

It was another 45 minutes before Rook was finally out, dressed and ready. They all took shots before they headed out and around the corner to the club. Jersey stuck by Rook, at least until they got into the club. Once they made it to their section, Rook and Slim invited some more people over and she began dancing with the girls. Jersey partied hard, mainly dancing and smoking, for a solid 2 hours. After leaving the girls about 2 songs in, she migrated over to Rook and Baze a number of times, dancing with them.

Colson glanced at them as he took another shot. She had made two rounds already, coming back to them after dancing and talking with AJ and Slim. He watched Jersey’s hand link with Baze’s, her other fingers hooking into his waistband, lightly. Baze smirked and moved a little closer with a smirk on his face. Colson finally looked away when he saw Jersey turn in his direction.

As quick as he turned his head, Jersey was still able to catch a glimpse of an annoyed look on his face as he looked away. Seeing it in her altered state flipped a switch and the annoyance that left her that morning now returned. She sighed and pulled away from Baze, stopping by Rook to tell him she needed some air, and as she crossed their section she cast a brief glare at Colson as she passed.

“Hey! Jersey!” Colson called after her. When she didn’t turn, Colson sighed and went after her.

Jersey burst out the front door of the club and gasped, inhaling the cool air and pushing a hand through her hair. She took a few steps then looked around to gather her senses. When she turned and began to walk back to the bus, she heard the doors burst open again and Colson calling her name, but she brushed it off.

“Jersey! Hey!” Colson called, hustling down the street and grabbing her arm, gently. “Jersey, what the fuck? You can’t just leave like that without someone with you!”

“Don’t touch me, Colson.” She said, calmly, pulling her arm away. Colson blinked and stopped in his tracks for a second before catching up with her again.

“Jersey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Colson asked, following her onto the bus. Jersey turned on him, stumbling a little and said, “You’re the one with the problem, Colson. You said last night was nothing! I’ve seen you watching me all day! Then you get annoyed that I’m dancing with Baze?!”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Annoyed?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Colson! I know you! I know what you looked like when you’re annoyed!” She shook her head and said, “That’s not the point! You said last night meant nothing!”

“It. Didn’t! We were drunk! We were high! That’s all!” Colson shouted.

“That’s bullshit! It didn’t feel like it mean nothing!” And you’ve been avoided being near me all day!” Jersey shouted back. “In vino veritas, Colson! You’re more truthful when you’re drunk! Last night wasn’t nothing! You’ve never touched me like that before!”

Colson rushed at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. His hand flew up to cup her cheek as his lips flew to hers, kissing her deeply. Jersey gasped when he grabbed her but then clung to him as she kissed him back. Colson walked her back until she hit the wall. Bracing both hands on the wall, Colson broke the kiss and stared down at her. Panting softly, Jersey slowly opened her eyes and blinked up at him, confused.

“It didn’t mean anything, Jersey. Just like this doesn’t.” He said, gently. “I love you, but...I-It’s not like that. I’m sorry if I made it seem different. Sometimes...I do stupid shit. I make mistakes...I never wanted to hurt you.”

Jersey bit her lip and inhaled sharply, trying to find her words. When she continued to struggle, Colson furrowed his brows in concern and asked, “Are we going to be okay? I don’t want things to change between us now.”

Jersey sniffled a little, trying not to get so emotional as she said, “Y-Yeah. We-We’ll be fine. We just can’t let that happen again.” Jersey looked up at him and lifted a hand to touch his cheek. Colson caught it and lightly kissed her fingers as he stepped away and dropped her hand.

“Good. Then we’ll be just fine.” He said. He cleared his throat and added, “Uh, I’m gonna go lay down. Um...Let the guys know when they get back for me?”

Colson didn’t wait to see her nod as he turned and headed back to his room. Jersey bit her lip and pushed a hand into her hair as she watched him walk away. A soft whimper escaped her lips and a stray tear trickled down her cheek. She sighed, softly, and sat on the couch, pulling out her phone to call Rosie.

~

Jersey didn’t have long to talk to her friend, at most the call was 45 minutes long. Once she heard familiar voices outside the bus, she quickly ended the call and went to her bunk to hide while her eyes cleared and the tears were wiped away. She was so torn and confused by everything and being drunk and high didn’t help with her emotions. She had the forethought to wipe her make up off before Rook came to check on her, not seeing her in the front but knowing that she had left, he was a little worried.

He was still drunk, so even seeing the closed bunk and as much as he tried and wanted to be a little gentler in case she was asleep, the knock was loud and sloppy as was his call of, “Jers? Babe, you okay? You asleep?”

Jersey sighed and rolled over, sliding the door open. “If I was, I’m not anymore.” She said, slipping out of the bunk. Rook chuckled and slid an arm around her as she leaned against him and sighed. Rook raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “Jers, are you sure you’re okay? Colson took off after you, did he say something? I’ll bust his door down now if he fucking made you cry.”

Jersey gave him a look and said, “Down, boy.” With a giggle, she added, “He didn’t do anything. I think I just got a little too drunk and not high enough.”

Rook sighed and pulled her closer as they walked down the hall and said, “In your feelings again? Shit, girl, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy doing that one day.”

In response, Jersey snorted and said, with a chuckle, “Why do you think I hang out with y’all? I’m already crazy.”

Rook laughed as they walked out to join the guys, who already had more drinks in their hands and passing around joints. Soon after Rook brought Jersey from her bunk, Colson emerged from his room, throwing himself into the commotion and craziness. Thankfully, none of the guys seemed to notice that Colson and Jersey kept their distance from each other the whole night. It was due, in part, to the fact that they still laughed and talked with each other, but they made sure they were apart from one another. The tension only existed between the two of them and neither wanted the rest to catch on and start asking questions. They were in the middle of a tour and Colson had a job to do, so did Jersey. One she wasn't going to risk jeopardizing because of a stupid one nightstand. Whatever the conversation was that needed to happen wasn’t about to happen on this tour. Both Jersey and Colson forced it aside and kept going for the sake of the band.

~

Over the next week and a half, Jersey took her time on her off days with her pictures. She didn’t miss going out with the boys much because the timing worked out so she was able to FaceTime with Rosie until they came back and the bus chugged onto the next location. When they all had a day break in between shows, Jersey was now content with splitting off from the group and exploring the cities they were in, with a bodyguard ever vigilant at her side. While Colson was concerned that she suddenly stopped doing things with them, he didn’t question her not wanting to risk another fight like they had in Zurich, but this time not alone. He made sure to keep in touch with whichever bodyguard went with her to make sure she was okay, if only for his sanity. That and the fact she almost never told Rook where she would be going and Colson needed his drummer in the right headspace.

Jersey got a small reprieve when Rosie showed up in Hamburg for the show, the pair taking the full next day to hang out, explore, and catch up on things. She stayed for the Copenhagen show, even though Jersey worked that night, but they savored every minute afterward before they had to part ways; Rosie heading back home as Jersey and the band headed out on a 12-hour boat ride to Oslo.

~

“What are you doing, Smirky?” Jersey walked up the stairs and found Rook curled up with his phone, smirking at the screen. She had a pretty good idea who, or what, was making him smile like that. Rosie and Rook had mysteriously disappeared for a good hour after the show in Denmark and, while they thought they had a minute alone, Jersey quickly hid herself when she walked onto the bus to fetch her friend and found Rook and Rosie in a passionate embrace. She stayed long enough to make sure it was Rosie, confirming it when she came up for air, then quickly high tailed it off the bus, snickering. “Come on, JP, show me what you and Rosie are talking about.” She teased, reaching for his phone.

“Fuck off!” Rook laughed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket.

“Oh, like I won’t go in there.” Jersey giggled. Rook looked at her and smirked. 

“How do you know I was talking to Rosie anyway?” Rook asked. Jersey rolled her eyes and said, “Because she stopped texting me mid-conversation. She doesn’t do that for just anyone.”

Though Rook tried to play it off and act cool, his cheeks tinted pink and his almost giddy smile didn’t waver from his lips. “We’re just talking, Jers, chill.” Rook chuckled, pulling his phone out again to continue texting. Jersey rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah. You can say that about my friends, but when it comes to your friends-”

“What about my friends?” Rook asked, his smirk suddenly wiped off his face. He watched his cousin closely as she glanced at him.

“Nothing. I’m just saying, you make a big deal about how they’d better not touch me.” Jersey said. She gave him a look and added, “Double standard much?”

Rook scoffed and said, “Please. Rosie won’t use me just because we’re on tour and then break my heart...They might.”

Jersey rolled her eyes and sighed, glancing away. She chewed her lip and tried to keep her anxiety from bubbling up as the events of her birthday ran through her mind. After a little too much silence, Rook looked up at her and said, “What? Has one of them done something? Who was it? Baze? Kells? I know it wasn’t AJ.”

“Oh, my God. Rookie. Chill out.” Jersey said, looking at him and chuckling. “No. They didn’t. They’ve been perfect gentlemen.”

“Sav, the minute-” Jersey stood, cutting him off, then said, “JP, calm your dick. If something had happened, don’t you think you’d have heard about it by now?”

Rook eyed her and said, “Yeah, I guess...Jersey, I just don’t want you getting hurt, babe. I don’t want to have to punch out one of my brothers.”

“Then calm your anger about it.” She giggled. She quickly reached over and ruffled his hair, shuffling away as he tried to swat at her. He watched her go back to the stairs and called, “Where are you going?”

“It’s a 12-hour ride, Rook. I’m getting some fucking sleep. This time change is fucking me up.” Jersey said with a giggle. She reached the top of the stairs then stopped, turning back to Rook to call, “When there’s food, come wake me up.”

“No promises!” Rook called back with a laugh, going back to his phone and his smirk returning to his face. Jersey held up her arm to flip him off as she walked back down the stairs and to her bunk.

Thankfully, Jersey was able to get a bunk to herself and didn’t share it with any of the guys. She made her way through the boat, running into Slim and AJ and talking for a bit, then finally collapsed on her bed with a sigh. She laid there for a moment before she groaned, the sudden reminding thought that she had to clean up her bunk an unwelcome intrusion, then pushed herself up and started packing her things away. Within the first 4 hours, she locked herself in her bunk as she went through the almost 3,000 pictures she had gotten from the previous show in Denmark. Three memory cards and two battery changes, Copenhagen was a hell of a show for her, resulting in a very restless 4 hours where Jersey had to force herself to sit and edit, with a few breaks every now and then. During those breaks, Jersey made a mental account of what clean clothes she had left and what needed to be washed when they reached Finland.

As she finished packing her clothes away, a knock sounded on her door. “Yeah?” She called, not turning until she had zipped up the last bag and the door opened. She smirked when she saw Baze walk in and shut the door with a smirk. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Jersey turned back to her bags to pile them in the corner before turning to him again. When she did, Baze pulled her closer and kissed her slowly. Jersey giggled into the kiss, slowly sliding her arms around his neck as he slid around her waist. When Baze broke the kiss Jersey asked with a soft giggle, “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” Baze said before kissing her again then traveling down her neck. Jersey giggled and threaded a hand through his long hair.

“I thought we were gonna do our own thing?” Jersey asked softly. As much as Baze missed being with Jersey, she did as well. But the desire to not get caught by anyone, much less Rook, was stronger. Her lips twisted into a smirk as she added, “I’ve seen you with a few girls.”

Baze chuckled and stood straighter to look down at her as he said, “Yeah. But it didn’t go far.”

“Making out?” She teased. “You’re not that slick.”

Baze chuckled and shrugged. “I’ve seen you with a couple guys at the club.” he teased back. “Nothing panned out?”

Jersey rolled her eyes and snorted. “Ya. They were all natives that just wanted the experience of an American girl, as they put it.” She said. They both laughed then Baze kissed her again. Jersey kissed him back, but briefly. She soon pulled away and pushed at him gently as she giggled and said, “Stop it! Someone is gonna catch us and it will be our bad luck it’s Rook.”

“Nah, Rook’s glued to his phone somewhere. He hasn’t stopped texting whoever since we left Denmark.” Baze said. Jersey snickered and said, “It’s because he and Rosie became quite close.”

Baze laughed and said, “Seriously?! Ha! Well, it’s about time that kid settled down.”

“My thoughts,” Jersey said, pulling from his grasp. “But he does have a short attention span and I’d rather wait until after tour to do this?”

Jersey smirked as Baze let out a soft, disappointing groan and his hands slowly trailed along her waist before dropping as she moved away. “I know. I’m just used to finding time to be with you. I have needs you know.” He teased, looking her over with a smirk. Jersey snickered and said, “Needs you should have no problem taking care of yourself until we’re off tour, no?”

“Shit, that only lasts so long, baby.” Baze chuckled, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck as he added, “Thank God, this tour is almost over.”

Jersey turned to him and giggled, tugging at his collar to pull him closer for a final, deep kiss. With a soft whimper, Jersey pulled away and said, “Baby, the feeling is mutual. Trust me.”

Baze smirked and chanced another kiss before Jersey giggled and pushed him toward the door. “Go, Baze.” She giggled. Baze snickered and caught her hand, kissing the back of it before he smirked again and slipped out of her room. Jersey bit her lip and sighed as she climbed into her bunk and quickly fell asleep.

~

After what seemed like the rest of the 8-hour ride, Jersey was jolted awake by loud knocking at her door. She gasped and sat up, looking around to gather her bearings before she sighed, laying back down as she called, “Come in.”

The door cracked open and Jersey sat up again after she looked to see who poked in. “Colson. Hey. What’s up?” She asked, rather surprised. He gave her a soft smile and opened the door fully.

“Hey. Sorry, were you sleeping?” He asked. Jersey couldn’t help but yawn as she nodded and said, “I was. What’s up?”

Colson chuckled and said, “Sorry. Uh, there’s food if you’re hungry.”

Jersey sighed, happily, and smiled as she climbed out of her bunk. “Yes. Thank fuck.” She chuckled. She stretched and sighed, glancing out the window before she asked, “How much longer till we dock?”

“Uh--” Colson pulled out his phone, checking the time, then said, “About 7 more hours.”

Jersey groaned and said, “I was only asleep for an hour? Fucking kill me, please.” She whined, softly, before walking out with Colson, both of them heading back up the stairs. “Where’s Rook? He was supposed to get me if there was food...Ass.”

Both Jersey and Colson chuckled before Colson said, “Actually, he sent me down to get you. He said the same thing and asked if I’d find out where you were...He said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Jersey quickly patted herself down before she pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She snickered and said, “Oops. I have it on Do Not Disturb. I forgot-Hey, look! I’ve got missed calls and texts.”

“Gee. I wonder who they’re from?” Colson teased. Jersey chuckled and shoved her phone back into her pocket as they reached the kitchen where the rest of the band and crew sat, eating happily. Jersey smiled and skipped over to Rook’s table, checking in with him before grabbing her own plate. Colson sat with Slim and a few of their crew but didn’t really listen to their conversation. He was in his own thoughts as he watched, what seemed like the table, but his eyes were on Jersey.

Ever since Germany, he waged a war inside himself. He didn’t want to anger Rook by pursuing her, though Rook would probably have his balls once he found out about Cologne, but over the last three weeks he came to a frightening realization; He was, and had been, in love with Jersey since they first started really hanging out together, 3 years ago.

~

Next Chapter

~

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free!

@badwolf-in-the-impala​​​ @lovemythsworld​​​ @kellsfanficalltogether​​​ @mgkobsessed​​ @sparxx27​ @youbelongeverywhere @delibervtion @cicipenguin91​

[laketaj24]

Vampire in Brooklyn I

Author’s Notes: This is super late, like from October lol but I have sworn that I was going to get through all of my requests!! I have a new a job with better hours and less stress on me so I can fall back into my writing! (Not that y’all care but I am pumped about it) lol Sooooo here you are!!! This is a Fan fic version of Vampire Brooklyn, but all credit goes to the original movie for the framework ad story line!!! Here’s part I part two will be here Monday or Tuesday! 

Requested: can you do trevante rhodes x vampire in brooklyn and make it extra smutty 🙃💛thank youuu. - @trevantesbrat

Warnings: Mild Smut, Slight Bloodplay. 

Masterlist 

 Your dreams had been odd here in late. You tried to work through them. The questions that lingered in your head were simple. Your hands dangled from the ceiling while a man, dark as you’d ever scene but also breathtakingly handsome done things to you, you’d only read about. They’d messed up your sleeping routine, so now every night at work you were more drained than ready to work. Why were you tied up in some room, naked and writhing in pleasure? It seemed like a wet dream to die for, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of danger away as the handsome man in all black stepped towards you. His teeth, white long canines and a face that made you think foul things about him.

“Y/N,” your partner Erik said from the other side of the boat. You’d been called out to wreck at the pier. Ghost ship destroyed over ten boats and the docking house. Erik and you were on call and he was hovering over you, annoyingly. “Y/N!”

“Coming E.” You gather up some swabs of blood placing the

m in the test tube. You skip over one of he bodies to Erik who was still examining his body touches the victim and points out the two dots on their neck. “What in the hell is that?”

“Looks like bite marks.” Erik flags the photographer over and you shake your head.

Your curiosity peaks you and you leave the room where Erik was making your way down the steps of the boat to below the deck. The water sloshes beneath your feet and you flash your light down the corridor checking for anyone. You see nothing just a few rats and destroyed room. The door sways a little and you can hear the footsteps grow near.

“I’ve been waiting on you.” His sultry voice fills the air and he appears familiar to you. You spin around not able to see anyone. “For years now.”

The voice fades and you check every room, moving things around wondering where the voice went. Then you see him. The dark figure folds his hands on his chest and you draw your weapon. “Hands up.”

The with a breeze of air, he’s gone. Erik touches you shoulder. “Man, what the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing let’s just go ahead and get this logged.”

He shook his head in agreement following you out of the base of the ship.

 You sit at your desk trying to shake the visions of him slipping his fingers in and out of you until you fell apart. The quick rush of heat floods your body and you sit back taking a sip of the water. You had to get the fuck out of here.

The case you were working with Erik had you spooked. It was odd how the boats found their way up to the dock, destroying everything in their way. And every person that had inhabited on the voyage here had died. The bodies still stuck in your mind you tried to ignore it.

“You good?” Erik asks from his desk.

He asked it every five seconds and you wanted to believe that he cared for you but currently he was fucking every girl on the southside of Brooklyn. You were no one special but his partner, and possibly a friend.

“I’m fine Stevens.” You roll your eyes grabbing your keys and your coffee from the desk. “I am going to get lunch a little early today. I’ll see you when I get back.” But it wasn’t early for you. It was ten at night. The night shift didn’t particularly treat you right. You leave the station before Erik can follow you out and head to your favorite pizza spot for some peace and quiet.

You slide in the booth noticing the man at the bar, nursing the dark colored liquor. He looked oddly familiar. The waiter makes his way over to you and quickly takes your ordering and bringing you a drink. “I didn’t ask for this.” You say quickly.

“It’s from the gentleman at the bar man.” He leaves, and the man turns around.

“I hope you don’t mind. You’re beautiful and it looked like you needed a drink.”

You wanted to get mad, you did need a drink. Things were overwhelming you. “Thank you.” You raise your glass and give the handsome gentleman a nice nod before returning to your bread and drink. He takes a seat in front of you.

“So, are you from here?”

“I am born and raised a few blocks over.”

“It’s a life filled city.” He pauses and you notice his eyes as they seem to gleam.

“Yeah, New York is like that.” you lean forward on your elbows examining the man. You had for certain seen him before. But how he was here in reality you were not quite sure. He was the man from your dreams. Dark smooth skin with perfect teeth and a set of dark eyes that had you intrigued. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Trevante.” He says with a smile. “My friends call me Tre.”

Erik bustles through the door in the fashion that he always does, hurried and angry. “Ey, you can’t warn someone before you leave for lunch. Tight after you left the captain got another suspicious call in, looks like it’s part of our case.” He turns to Trevante looking him up and down. “You having a date on lunch and shit now?”

You scoff shaking your head at Erik. He was always jealous. Well, Trevante, I’m Y/N and it has been nice seeing you this afternoon. But I have to get back to work.” You slide out of the booth forgetting about the food you just ordered.

“I hate that you have to leave.” He says placing money down on the table for your food. You didn’t ask him to but you didn’t deny the gesture. “Perhaps we could catch up later ton this week? I make a mean steak?”

Your heart strums and his eyebrow raises as he awaits your response.

“Ey! Man we have to get going tell Romeo to back off.”

You hear a low rumble and then it disappears. It was like a growl, a primal, territorial growl. Your head snaps up and Tre is there smiling at you. “Maybe next time handsome.” You grab your badge and keys following Erik out of the shop.

   He’d got you where he wanted you. You turn to the steel door but, it’s gone. No exit. Your heart races as you back away from him with each step he takes until you are cornered. You reach for the vase of flowers on the wooden table in front of you and swing it over his head. But he doesn’t flinch. He flashes his perfect smile. Fangs erect and eyes alight. You bolt to the other side of the room and Trevante walks over to you. His eyes a glow and lust filled.

“I’ve been searching for you for over a century.” He pauses. “They said that there were no more of us. I guess they were wrong huh.”

He wraps the rope around your wrist before you’re able to think and tugs the other end through the loop hanging from the ceiling. You struggle, flailing your legs in the air and he watches with a devilish smirk and those eyes gleam again. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a while. Forgive the ropes, just a precaution.”

“Let me go.”

“You’ll change your mine in a minute.” He lifts the black shirt over his head and falls to his knees dragging his extended canines down the slope of your thighs and then back up, licking a line with his tongue to your inner thigh. “I can hear your heart pounding.” He whispered. “But not from fear.” He smiled against you and then you felt him bite down sucking slowly and your back arched in pleasure. It was the most erotic thing you ever experienced the intoxicating thrill o the pain thrown in with the pleasure he gave you. You were lost.  You could feel the blood drip down your leg as he stood and wiped his mouth. “You taste just as good as you look Y/N.”

“What are you going to do to me?” You whisper watching his eyes turn black.

Trevante smiled and dipped his fingers into your pussy. “Everything.” He laughed. 

Tagging:   @wakanda-inspired @misspooh @valynsia @whoramilaje @harleycativy @virgosapphire79  @sparklemichele @theunsweetenedtruth @marvelpotterlove @ahhhhkeya @iamrheaspeaks @thiccdaddy-mbaku @muse-of-mbaku @chaneajoyyy@myboyfriendgiriboy  @someareblindtoitsbeauty @brittyevans @almostpurelysmut@readsalot73 @ivarsshieldmadien @slimmiyagi @cinnabearice@royallyprincesslilly @hutchj @im5ftbutmythroat66@igetcarriedawaywithyou @madamslayyy @bartierbakarimobisson@killmongersaidheyauntie @babygurlniah43 @thehomierobbstark @heyauntieeee

[radkoko]

Picture This

Day 5: Photographs Iruka isn’t a fan of having his picture taken...

Read on Ao3

~~~

“A portrait?” Iruka wasn’t sure what was so important.

“Yes,” Kakashi nodded from behind his desk, “We need a proper one now that you are the new headmaster.”

“Can’t you just use my old one?” Iruka begged, he didn’t want to do this.

“No, you look too young.”

Iruka wanted to grab his heart from where the arrow pierced it. Too young… nobody ever wanted to hear that because it was basically someone saying that he was now old. Or at least old for a shinobi.

“Fine,” Iruka resigned himself, “Is there someone that can take this portrait now?” He just wanted to get this over with. If they wanted a picture he’d give them one, but he wasn’t going to pretend to be happy about it.

Kakashi hmm’d and paged through the papers in front of him, if Iruka had to guess he was just stalling, but he did it with such conviction that Iruka waited.

“I don’t have anyone available today, but there’s someone here I’d like to recommend that will be free tomorrow.

Iruka’s face scrunched up involuntarily. Tomorrow was supposed to be his day to relax. He sighed, “Ok. Tomorrow it is.”

“Great, he’ll meet you at your place tomorrow,” Kakashi confirmed the appointment, “And don’t worry, Sensei, he’s the best. I promise.” Iruka resisted rolling his eyes at the thumbs up Kakashi gave him. He walked away from the Hokage without so much as a goodbye.

~~~

Iruka woke up to the sound of knocking at his door. He looked at the clock on the side of his bed indicating that he’d at least gotten to sleep in a little.

He opened up the door to find a strange man he’d never met waiting on the other side.

The man smiled and held out a hand, “Good morning, I’m Sukea. The Hokage asked me to take your photo.

Iruka returned that handshake, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Iruka.”

They stared at each other as their handshake continued for longer than any normal handshake. Iruka swore that Sukea seemed familiar, but he could say with certainty that they’d never met.

After Iruka finally released Sukea’s hand and stepped back he looked down at himself, feeling a little ashamed to realize he was still dressed in his sleep wear, an old shirt and a pair of boxers. “Sorry, I didn’t know that you’d be here so early. I wasn’t prepared for company.”

Sukea gave him a look that could only be described as pity, “I assume the Hokage must not have given you my schedule. Don’t worry, I can wait for you out here until you’re ready, I’m not in a rush.”

Iruka hesitated, “No, you should come in. I’ll get ready fast.”

“Please take your time,” Sukea responded after he’d stepped inside.

Iruka gave a little nod and left Sukea in the entryway. It was foolish to be so trusting, but it really had been a safer world since the end of the war, and Iruka had always been trusting since before. Even with the placation from Sukea, Iruka found himself rushing to get ready. Maybe it was the concern over making him wait, or more likely it was Iruka wanting to get this over with so he could get back to a relaxing day of doing nothing.

When Iruka stepped out into the living room he found Sukea observing the art and trinkets he’d been gifted by students over the years.

“Kids?” Sukea asked as he pointed to the drawings.

“Students,” Iruka corrected, “but you could say they’re kind of like having kids.”

The man chuckled at Iruka, “I’m sure they are.” He looked Iruka up and down assessing his appearance, “Ready then?”

Iruka nodded, “Let’s go.”

Sukea lead them out the door and down to the main road. Iruka followed, not really sure why Kakashi hadn’t just arranged for them to meet at the top of the Hokage Tower since everyone knew that’s where the official portraits were taken. It wasn’t until they veered off the path that Iruka realized that they might have a different destination.

Still Iruka had to ask, “Are we not supposed to be going up there?” he pointed behind them.

Sukea smiled, “I tend to be more free form with my photos. It makes them more natural, and I can give the Hokage the extras so maybe we don’t have to do this again.”

Iruka shrunk a little, “Is it that obvious?”

Sukea looked back at him and shook his head, “The Hokage warned me you weren’t looking forward to these photos, so I thought that might cheer you up.”

They continued through the edge of the forest, coming up to a little waterfall. Iruka looked around at the familiar area. He was certain this had been Naruto’s training ground before the war had started, back when he got back from training with Jiraiya and Tenzou took over as the leader for Team 7.

There was a strange clicking sound and Iruka turned back to see Sukea with his camera out.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” the man apologized, “Sometimes I just take photos without thinking about it.”

Iruka felt his body tense up, he really wasn’t used to having photos taken of him.

Sukea ushered Iruka around the area taking photos against a few different backgrounds, rocks, trees, and the waterfall. It was easy, but Iruka still felt the pinch in his muscles from being so nervous.

Iruka watched Sukea frown at the display on his camera. He wasn’t sure how he could have messed up with Sukea directing him for such a simple photo.

With a little hand wave, Sukea encouraged Iruka to sit down on a rock across from him.

“So, I’ve heard you taught Naruto Uzumaki.” Sukea started. “I met him once. Very interesting shinobi.”

Iruka bubbled with laughter, “I’d say he’s more than interesting. It’s almost impossible to describe him in words… rambunctious, brave, caring… It’s only a few, but there are so many sides to him. Sometimes I forget that he was my student, I kind of think of him as my little brother.” Iruka couldn’t help the smile growing on his face.

The camera’s shutter clicked another dozen times startling Iruka who had almost forgotten why they were out there.

“Better,” Sukea assessed the new photos, “Let’s take a few more though.”

He moved them to a new spot, now sitting closer to the waterfall with the sun high in the sky.

“So you’ve met Naruto?” Iruka asked, starting to feel more comfortable with the conversation. It was the only thing helping him ignore the sound of the shutter every so often.

“We found each other when I overheard them talking about wanting to see the Hokage’s face.”

“Kakashi?” Iruka asked surprised.

“It was before he became the Hokage of course, I wouldn’t have helped if I knew what he’d be now.”

Curiosity was burning inside Iruka, “So did you manage to get any photos?”

“I got quite a few,” Iruka was surprised he’d never seen these. He would have expected them to circulate through the village pretty fast. “Well I got a lot of pictures, but nothing that actually showed his face.”

“Really?”

“Yup,” Sukea got closer, continuing to take photos while he talked, “One time a flock of birds flew right past as I took the photos. He must have a lot of luck with that mask.”

Iruka laughed, it was true that Kakashi had yet to be demasked by anyone in the village, especially with Naruto involved. Still he couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved that those photos didn’t exist.

“Are you friends with the Hokage as well?”

Iruka felt his face heat up hoping it wasn’t noticeable under the sunlight. “I guess you could say that.”

“More than friends,” Sukea prodded, “You seem interested in those photos.”

Iruka’s face must have been at a full blush as Sukea continued to snap a few shots.

“Ok, that’s enough…” Iruka held out his hand, unable to handle the scrutiny of both the camera and the man. “You have enough photos right?”

Sukea had a hint of a smirk on his face as he looked through the photos on the camera. “I think we’ve got enough.

Iruka let out a relieved sigh, finally relaxing. He hated being the center of attention.

“I’ll get these to the Hokage for selection and make sure the rest are available for next time,” Sukea held up the camera to indicate the photos he’d taken, “Thanks for your patience, you were an interesting subject.”

Iruka returned a tentative smile, “Thank you Sukea.” He wasn’t quite sure what to think of the photographer, but he was hopeful to not have to meet him again any time soon.

It was finally time for him to go relax.

~~~

Iruka knocked on Kakashi’s office door. He’d come as soon as he’d received a summon, hoping it wasn’t anything to do with the photos. Iruka wasn’t sure he could stand taking any more even if the first batch was bad. There was a reason his home was devoid of any photos of himself.

When he didn’t get an answer Iruka knocked again. It was still silent past the door so Iruka let himself in assuming Kakashi must have been running late, which was nothing new.

He sat down on the couch waiting, anxious to know why he’d been called in. After a few restless minutes Iruka started to pace around the room. Kakashi knew he hated waiting. Iruka wandered around the room, making his way between the stacks of books and paperwork everywhere. He wasn’t sure this room had been cleaned since the Third had occupied this room.

When he got around the desk towards the window a new frame sitting on Kakashi’s desk caught his eye. It held a photo of him, one from the recent photoshoot. Iruka picked the frame up to inspect the image inside.

In the photo he was staring off into the distance with a light dusting of red on his cheeks. If he had to guess it was when Sukea had been asking him about Kakashi. Even though he’d chosen not to detail anything, Sukea must have gotten an understanding that their relationship was more than just Hokage and Headmaster.

“Iruka,” Kakashi’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Iruka looked at the photo again before settling it back in its place. “So… did you really need a portrait for the academy?” He was starting to think that he’d been tricked just for Kakashi’s personal gain.

“Of course I did,” Kakashi assured him, “Although I might have asked for the excess photos.”

Iruka shook his head not at all surprised, “You are ridiculous.”

“You’re just so busy now, and sometimes I need to see your face before I can focus on work.”

“And utterly cheesy…” Iruka continued his list.

“I thought you might prefer this to me calling you away from work all the time.”

“Very true,” Iruka admitted, “Is that why I’m here now? A photo wasn’t enough?”

“A photo could never replace you, but…” Kakashi looked down, pulling Iruka’s gaze with him to the stack of papers in his hands. “This time I had to call you for paperwork.”

Iruka laughed, taking the stack from Kakashi to put on his desk. He gave Kakashi a quick peck on the cheek before they started looking through the paperwork together.

[supacutiepie]

I have headcanons... Head Cannons if you will

I thoroughly believe Bakugou is the type to bullshit his way around every little truth so honestly this shit might as well be canon bc he is Absolutely That Extra

- The new reveals told that: The reason we didn’t see his room is because it’s got shelves of romance manga.

-Therefor : Bakugou is a MAJOR BOOK NERD NESTER

-He has cookbooks, his trashy literature, his classics, his mangas, every school book he ever owned has been kept. 

-This includes shit he wrote himself

-Cookbook notebooks, its a full wall to wall scenario. He has books in every language and they make a librarian weep.

-The books he can’t read?? He has notebooks filled with translations he’s jot down after hours of scouring the internet and his OTHER books.

-TBFH his self written notebook collection puts “shitty nerdy fanboy deku” to shame

-Not only does he have this many books, they have consumed him. His room is wall to wall with them and they are so neatly organized to his mind that he just AUTOMATICALLY knows EXACTLY where every little page is. 

-However

-You may think, “Bakugou is the neatest of the students”

-Bullshit

-He understands his methods. You could never. I’m not shitting you, we have only ever seen his bed because its the only clean spot. He has piles of books, his closet is filled with his novelty t-shirts--

-Oh, he swaps out his wardrobe every season. Not because he cares per say but rather if he didn’t he’d drown in the clothes. His parents own a fashion line, every. single. month. he gets something new.

-Clothes mean jack shit to him. Sure, he gets it. He understands that clothes are “Expressions”... but to him its just bullshit extra merchandise that he gets in  packages once a month since he born. He long since left behind any attachment to anything that wasn’t some doofy bs novelty shit. His skull shirt collection is hideous and he loves it. 

-Bc he gets clothes so often, he just as often donates them.

-Everyone in 1-A has received a mysterious package of clothing. Everyone. And it’s always customized because like hell he’d just throw clothes at people puh-lease his father DESIGNS FASHION FROM SCRATCH

-It’s also ‘secretly’ his way of trying to put some kind of fashion sense in the heathens he lives with. 

-So his closet is full, his walls are lined with shelves and stacks and notes.

-But the rest of the “clear space” is filled with art.

- Drawings, Sketches, Designs. Little thing stacked up or tapped together. Prototypes over a desk thats STUFFED with pencils and erasers and extra paper and books. 

-Photographs of the places he’s been. So many different shots of Paris, mountains, rivers, lakes. He has a series of photo albums for the best and one is entirely dedicated to sunrises- another to sunsets.

-He has a map above his bedside. It’s the only spot big enough because it doesn’t have a big ass bookshelf on the wall.

-The map is big and delicately detailed. But it’s still just a map.

-The cool shit is that it is COVERED in tack-markers. Well, most of it is. 

-Europe is washed out by tacks. France has so many different colored tacks its an eyesore. Paris has a big ass push pin bc he’s been there so many times. Enough that when Aoyama starts mumbling obscenities at their classmates he has to stop himself from cackling along.

-He has a trail of pushpins along the Alps and Pyrenees. 

-The different colors mean things. But only he gets its.

* Black is Done. Been there, done it, no point going back.

*Green is Good. It’s a place he kinda liked, but its not somewhere he needs to go back to. Paris is a big ass green push pin.

*Red is for a place he wants to go back to. The mountains are a trail of red that grows inch by inch longer.

*Blue is for Potential. He marks his next trips in blue, but not his dream trips.

*Those would be his nice, doofy, silver tipped push pins. the classic “string on a crime board” kind. He has major cities plotted out with these. Theres a large mishmash over america filled with silver and blue. He has books and books and BOOKS on american mountain ranges and cuisine and he not-so-secretly plotted out a course all-might themed rest stops.

*Yellow is for his favorites. The first mountain he ever hiked, the onsen he found while his parents dragged him out to a business trip up north, the island they went on once for a family vacation. (He fell in love with the sunset. It was clear and bright and there were so many colors at once that its his ‘happy place’. He sat on top of a fucking volcano and it was AWESOME.)

-The map is obsessively picked over, the pins are carefully arranged, and the map itself its surrounded by his favorite snapshots of the places marked.

-His room is a mess. But he does know the exact inch everything belongs in.

-He may not seem it, but he is sentimental. He just doesn’t keep all the sentimental shit in the dorms. Those things are at home. On shelves and wall caddies and tucked between his even BIGGER collection of books and cd cases.

-He does have All Might merch, but again, at home. The few things he has at the dorm are hand drawn posters, so much cooler than the cheap shit you get in the store.

-He doesn’t have time for movies and shows, but when he does its either “cheesy romance serial” or “blood, guts, and glory”

-TBFH his FAVORITE movie is a bastard child of a romcom, an action, and a suspense thriller. It’s horrible, its audacious, its cheesy and the vgi is awful but its one of those Things he loves. (On really bad days, when his arms ache for hours and he didn’t sleep well the night before he lets the movie go on repeat just for the cheese. It’s a soothing ‘nothing really matters’ kinda Thing)

-Oh, lets not forget his arms.

-His quirk is DEMANDING. Its a needy little princess. He gets sick of it acting like a bitch. His arms will ache if he over does it, so he has a giant fucking box of tiger balms and compression wraps and weird fucking icy-hot concoctions.

-He DOESN’T have skin car shit. Surprise surprise, he doesn’t need it. He is soft. He is also, incredibly fucking annoyed.

-He has those super obnoxious spray colognes, some super expensive shit, and inbetweeners. Because otherwise he smells like he just rolled out a vat of butterscotch and step into a shower of caramel. But BURNT.

-Seriously, his room would be noxious from the nitroglycerin smell alone. He constantly has a fan going and the window open. And while the room is cluttered he CANNOT let it go uncleaned or he risks a build up of explosives. He has to change his sheets daily, he has a routine for covers and pillow cases, and he is damn near religious in clothes washing because otherwise he’s destined to explode Something he Doesn’t Want Exploded. (The books. The very flammable sometimes RARE books.)

-Oh, and he has MANY a blanket and throw. He swaps them out so he isn’t doing huge loads of laundry for the big shit. It’s mostly thin blankets anyways, but they’re super soft and cozy and he nestles up to read his books like a demented caterpillar. The blanket he sleeps with ALWAYS ends up on the floor. 

-He doesn’t like to think himself overly conceited. But he is cocksure and arrogant and he has an image to keep. So of course he has routines to make himself look good.

-This is just a Bakugou thing TBQH.

-More of a personal headcanon, but he’s definitely gay. Not in the super obvious way, but he’s definitely confident in it. He isn’t about to go plastering his walls with flags (as if they’d fit), and he isn’t jotting down crushes in a journal (he does have journals, they’re just... incredibly volatile and profane)

-He’s just, confident.  He has a single little rainbow picture, its a picture he took and its super cool and shit. A rainbow in the mountains, right after a shower. He keeps in in a frame in one of the bookshelves near his manga. It’s tasteful, and it’s subtle. He knows what its for, and the littleness of it feels nice and secure.

-He doesn’t shy away if asked. But no one asks. He’d be honest, if anyone did. It’s not something he will hide- that’d be cowardly...

-But deep down, it does give him pause. It’s something he wrestled into submission since he figured it out. He had this big dream of being N.1 and then one day he realized that, had society not advanced the way it did, he could have nothing. He’d never tell a soul but it scared him, to know that despite all his ‘perfections’  he had this one thing that would turn heads in a way he didn’t want.

-He realized though that it as just one more thing he’d own. So he noosed it, that fear, and he throttled it into submission. He’d be N.1, he’d be open, He’d pioneer that shit if he had too- but he didn’t have too. It ended up being something that added character if nothing else, and he was determined to make it a trait and not a flaw and to build his pride with it.

-That all being said, much like any self respecting gay- he does has a string of lights tastefully weaving over the wood of his bookshelves.

-Extras:

* He doesn’t get sick often. Just, doesn’t. He keeps a close watch on his health, is always good on hygiene, and in general doesn’t jeopardize his well-being.

* When he gets sick. It hits him like a FREIGHT TRAIN.

* He only gets fevers once in a blue moon and he’ll fight the damn moon itself to keep it this way because when he DOEs get a fever its like a putting a handful of firecrackers into a cooking pot.

* He pops when sweaty. He just DOES, It’s INCREDIBLY annoying but thankfully localized to the hands. But when the fever strikes, his whole body pops. He spends the majority of his fever curled up in something flame-proof to wait it out.

*If he’s sweating, and by some MIRACLe he blushes, he CRACKLES.

* He’ll kill you if you witness it.

* I said he’s confident, not that he can’t be flustered.

* On that note, he’ll take it to the grave, but he definitely made Kaminari discharge in front of the dorms that first day by kissing him. It was on the cheek though! And it fucking hurt. Touching Kaminari is like playing roulette and his finger tips smell funny afterwards so he tries to avoid it.

* Honestly, the same can be said for anyone with a quirk that can react to his.

*Fucking half-and-half actually worries him. For the sanctity of his clothing.

* That fight with Deku in ground-beta set off every nerve ending he had and for a solid 24 hrs afterwards he actually had trouble keeping his quirk under his skin. He can still vividly recall the arc of electricity over his face and it never fails to leave a lasting echo in his mind.

* Kirishima is good for this though. Ironically, he’s grounding. He’s the one person Bakugou has never worried about hurting or leaving damage behind. Likewise, he knows that Kirishima high-key needs the confidence boost that Bakugou drags with him everywhere, so he amps up his attitude when the red-head seems down.

* He has no earthly idea how to describe his relationship with Kirishima and it shows. He would never dare say it allowed, but he knows that the boy is his best friend and he’d honestly kill for him. But more so, he’d be willing to live and fight beside him.

* Kirishima is one of the VERY FEW who has a picture in Bakugou’s room. It’s from a hiking trip, and its really backlit so you honestly wouldn’t know at first glance, but its beautiful. A sunrise, right at the summit. A figure standing on a rock with a hand excitedly outstretched towards the horizon.

* The other people with photos, are his parents- and the Midoriya’s.

* It’s not as obvious this one. But he keeps a family photo on his bookself of the three Bakugous, and then theres an old photograph tucked away between some of his older school book collections.

* It’s a beach photo. He couldn’t be more than, maybe three? 

* It’s a whole other life. A time before his quirk. Before he knew he was destined.

*He’s sitting on a rock with a backsplash of salt and foam. He’s got an arm wrapped around a tiny Izuku. It was the only thing keeping the other boy from tumbling off into the waves. Their moms are sitting on either side, big happy faces all around.

*The boys were burnt, both heavily freckled, and smiling like the world was endless.

* The photo...makes him sad. He can’t explain it, not even sure what words could do so. It’s nostalgic sure, but something between the pixels of ink has him at a lost. It was such a different time, and the little boy in the photo is a stranger.

*Sometimes, rarely and in the dead of night when a nightmare finally gets him awake, he thinks about life. About how different it could have been, about the paths he chose and the ones he burnt. He wonders, he regrets, and he moves on before morning.

*Bakugou Katsuki refuses to dwell. He bottles and compartmentalizes and he tucks it away like a pamphlet in a library. Notes and subscripts to be lost in translation. 

( He’s vocal, he’s vivid. He writes. He loves his book collection and he writes his own short stories. His imagination is as vivid as the rest of the class, and he jots down half finished ideas all the time. He has a memory that makes an elephant cry, so his school notebooks are tiny and his idea notebooks are scattered. The words he can’t get out into the air are sometimes trapped in ink. )

[aslanjadecarlyle]

The Photograph (Barlyle prompt)

Happy belated Mother's Day!

Word Count: 4,300

Title: The Photograph

---

"Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word." —George R.R. Martin

It was raining.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

P.T. hated rain. He preferred the sun - the brighter, the better. It didn't storm, but the drizzle outside was almost worse. Thunderstorms had personality, at least - low thunder that rumbled and roared, lightning that lit up the room - no matter where you were - for the briefest of instants. But the rain outside was simply... mush. It was lazy, dreary rain that served no purpose other than to muddy the world and cast the Barnum home in a gray, depressing light.

P.T. was missing.

That was the second sign something was wrong.

The ringmaster was loud. The ringmaster was loud and full of life and seemed to never tire, not even for a moment. Phillip loved it. Phillip loved him. He loved the way P.T. always felt the need to brighten the little world they lived in with bigger-than-life ideas. He loved the way the ringmaster himself radiated love - whether it was for himself (in a way that some people would mistakingly describe as selfish), the circus troupe, or Phillip. Whether they were together in bed - Phillip moaning underneath the older man, either with love and soft caresses, or in a way that was absolutely filthy as the ringmaster forced him to beg for the ultimate ecstasy - or whether it was through the soft, casual touches and loving words that P.T. would rain upon him throughout the day. P.T. loved Phillip in a way that left him overcome with emotion - he loved him in a way that, for just a moment, made Phillip forget the hellish background in which he had been raised.

P.T. loved Phillip in a way that made him believe he was worthy of it.

P.T. was loud. P.T. was full of life. P.T. never failed to make anyone and everyone around him feel like the single most important person in the world.

But it was raining.

It was raining and P.T. was missing.

The Barnum home was massive, but it seemed even bigger with the dark, lonesome shadows that the gray clouds outside cast onto the walls. Phillip shivered - they'd woken up to the rain (for once, they'd woken at the same time - P.T. usually rose much earlier than he) and Phillip had been the first to go downstairs to prepare breakfast. P.T. had promised to join him in just a few minutes, but several had gone by and there was still no sign of the man that had swept the young playwright off his feet.

"Phineas?" Phillip called. His voice rattled and bounced off the walls, almost seeming to echo.

No answer.

Phillip shivered again and wrapped his arms around himself as he walked. He wore but a pair of pajama pants, his robe, and a pair of slippers. Perhaps he was imagining things, but he could have sworn there was a draft coming in with the rain. He thought, maybe, that P.T. had left a window open - though, that seemed very out of character for the brilliant circus king. He always busied himself with new ideas, always carried an excited energy about him, but that didn't mean the man was sloppy. In fact, he was anything but. Sure, his desk might be messy, he might occasionally button up his shirt the wrong way, but he wasn't sloppy. Personal care was one thing, but when it came to the betterment of others - whether it was the circus or Phillip - he handled everything with great care. He would never leave a window open because that could mean a protestor had opportunity to break in, or Phillip could catch a cold, or—

Or Phillip was overreacting. A window wasn't open because there wasn't a draft and he had only imagined a brush of cold air because where the hell was Phineas.

And why couldn't he shake the dark, unsettling feeling that nagged at the back of his mind, insisting something was wrong?

"P.T.? Phineas?" he called again.

Just as before, there was no answer.

Almost subconsciously, Phillip paused in the middle of the hallway and let his gaze drift up the long, sprawling staircase. His eyebrows furrowed together as he stared up to the second floor. Now that he thought about it, had he even heard the man come downstairs?

Still looking upwards, Phillip approached the staircase. He called the ringmaster's name again, but, just as before, got no answer. He climbed the stairs and found the upstairs to be just as dark - if not darker, even - and silent as the floor below.

He tried their room, but P.T. was gone. Their bed was unmade, just as Phillip had left it before going downstairs, and P.T.'s robe was gone, too. So he'd moved, at least. But, again, Phillip couldn't remember hearing him come downstairs - he had to be up here somewhere.

He passed several closed doors - the rooms of Caroline and Helen, who had left with their mother after the Jenny Lind incident. Little had they known, then, that it would be Phillip the ringmaster turned to, not another woman.

Caroline and Helen were still permitted to visit on some weekends - only then would their doors be open, their rooms filled with the sounds of laughter. Phillip and P.T. were careful to stay apart on those days - most of the time, Phillip would find it safest to simply go back to his now mostly-abandoned apartment. P.T. also got to see the girls during nights that Caroline had ballet recitals, which brought back memories of the place where he had laid eyes on Phillip Carlyle for the first time.

Other doors were closed, leading only to empty rooms - the guest bedroom (where Phillip "stayed" on the rare occurrence that he decided to stay during one of the girls' visits), the library, the playroom. He only paused once coming to the closed door at the very end of the hall.

P.T.'s home office.

The door was closed, just as all of the others before were closed, but it did not simply swing open to reveal an empty room. Instead, when Phillip tested the doorknob, he found the door to be locked.

Breath hitching in his throat, Phillip rose his fist to knock. However, he hesitated, just a moment - he was sure P.T. would be fine, just absorbed in his work, but... suppose something really was wrong? Did he really want to alert P.T. of his presence, give the man a chance to hide or clean up or—

Or...what? What exactly did Phillip think he was doing in there?

Staring at the door for another moment, Phillip's hand dropped to his side. He stood on tiptoe - how humiliating it was sometimes, to need to extra boost to reach things, but this time he didn't have the ringmaster's teasing words and pleasant laughter ringing in his ears - and felt above the doorframe. His fingers wrapped around the object he was in search of - a key - and he lowered himself flat onto his feet once more.

He wondered, perhaps, if P.T. had forgotten about the spare key. They'd agreed upon it mutually - the man had a tendency of getting lost in his ideas for hours at a time and when he locked himself in his office, as he often did, Phillip needed a way to bring him back to reality, if necessary. Sometimes a simple rattling of the doorknob, a mere presence in the room was enough, but other times - well, sometimes Phillip had to bait the man away from his work with more... pleasing measures.

The doorknob twisted, successfully unlocking with the key, and Phillip pushed the door open. He immediately shivered upon entering the room and, eyes flickering over to the wall, discovered that there was, in fact, a window open.

The next thing Phillip noticed was P.T., hunched over in his seat and staring at something down on his desk.

Phillip sighed heavily (though, secretly, he was actually relieved) and he rolled his eyes as he crossed the room to close the window. The frame around it was wet with raindrops and he shivered again at the cold breeze that came through, chilling the entire room. "Are you telling me you neglected to join me for breakfast over the matter of paperwork?"

P.T. was silent.

Phillip frowned as he turned toward the ringmaster. He leaned against the wall and rested a hand on his hip, almost unaware that he was doing it. "Phineas?"

The ringmaster shuddered - the only sign that he even acknowledged Phillip was in the room - but remained silent. Phillip's hand fell from his hip and he strode over to the ringmaster, delivering a light touch to the older man's shoulder.

P.T. shrank away and turned his back on the playwright.

Phillip's lips parted in shock and he fumbled for words. "Wh - What's wrong? Did I...do something?"

His brain wracked for anything he could have done to offend the ringmaster, but came up totally blank. P.T. wasn't one to hold grudges - surely he would have told Phillip if something he'd done bothered him?

"Phineas... talk to me? Please?"

He knelt down in front of the ringmaster - a familiar position, though this time it was out of concern, not lust. P.T. continued to stare down at the object in hand - Phillip could tell that it had to be a photograph or painting or drawing of some sort, though he wasn't sure of what. The ringmaster jerked away again when he reached out, but not before he saw the tears shining on the older man's face.

"Phineas, are you... crying?"

Voice clipped with alarm, the worry and fear that had dwindled away upon finding the ringmaster came back full force. Phillip steadied himself on his knees at P.T.'s side, and rested a hand on the older man's thigh. Now that he had seen the tears, he could hear them - the noise was barely there, but P.T.'s breath hitched with near-silent sobs and his chest trembled with the effort of holding them back. Confusion overwhelmed the younger man.

"Please," he whispered again. His voice cracked and made him cringe - he sounded nothing like Phillip Carlyle, the man with the voice that P.T. often teased as being 'too posh.' "Talk to me."

Without even realizing it, Phillip had started to trace small circles into P.T.'s thigh. The strong muscle underneath quivered and the ringmaster seemed to have stilled, but tension held tight throughout his entire body. Phillip looked down at the floor, then up at the ringmaster again as he whispered, "I don't like seeing you like this."

P.T.'s sigh was loud, almost thunderous compared to how silent he'd been up until that point. He tried to hold back, but his voice was thick with emotion as he choked out, "You - You weren't supposed to."

Tears brimmed in Phillip's eyes - it killed him that P.T. thought he had to hide his emotion. He didn't know what was bringing the ringmaster such distress, but he rose to his feet and slipped behind P.T.'s chair. The ringmaster gasped when he felt the young man's strong hands on his neck and shoulders, slowly massaging, and he tried to pull away, to stand, but Phillip pressed a hand to the front of his shoulder, pushing him back. He didn't have any strong force from his angle, but P.T. fell back anyway. His cries became louder and his body shuddered with them more openly. Phillip's gut twisted, and he peered down at the item still clutched in P.T.'s hands.

It was a photograph. It was yellowed and faded with age - it had to have been taken using the earliest of cameras - but the woman in it stared up at him with a sweet face and eyes that were not unkind. It was hard to tell, but she appeared to have P.T.'s wavy locks of hair.

"Who is that?"

Phillip's voice was a hum in P.T.'s ear, like the most delectable drop of honey. P.T. sighed again and closed his eyes, lashes wet with tears. He slumped in his chair, startling Phillip.

He'd never seen the man look so... defeated.

"Her name was Irene," P.T. murmured in a voice so quiet, so unlike himself, that Phillip strained to hear him. "She is - was - my mother. She...passed when I was a boy."

His words took a moment to sink in.

"Oh, Phin," Phillip breathed. His hands fell from P.T.'s shoulders and he shuffled to P.T.'s front once more. He lowered himself to the ground again, grasping P.T.'s hands in his. "She's still your mother," he insisted, rubbing the palm of P.T.'s hand with his thumb, "no matter how or when she passed away."

P.T.'s lower lip quivered, like a boy, and he laughed at himself as the tears came more rapidly. He wanted to wipe the offending wetness from his cheeks, but Phillip still grasped the older man's hands in his.

"It's ridiculous," the ringmaster muttered, shaking his head. "I'm a grown man. She's been gone longer than you've been alive. I can't - I shouldn't be—"

His voice broke and he broke his hands free of Phillip's hold, covering his face. The office door was still open and his sobs carried down the hallway of the otherwise empty mansion.

Phillip felt guilt as he sat there and watched a man fifteen years his senior cry. P.T. knew all about his less than ideal childhood - his father who beat him and his mother who never made an effort to stop him. She certainly wasn't worth crying over, and never would be, not even when she died.

He'd known P.T. must have had a mother - by logic, if nothing else - but the ringmaster never spoke of her and Phillip had... never bothered to ask. Perhaps he'd convinced himself that since his parents were terrible, all parents had to be.

But then, weren't Caroline and Helen always filled with life whenever they saw their father? P.T. was not a terrible parent - far from it. In fact, Phillip would even consider him the epitome of what a good parent should be. He didn't find it surprising that P.T. had been blessed with an excellent father, who tried to provide as much as he could for his son, even while living on the streets and on his deathbed. By that logic, then, he shouldn't have been surprised to know that P.T.'s mother was an equally wonderful woman - a woman who was worth crying for.

And yet, he had never bothered to ask.

"Oh God, Phineas," Phillip choked. He gently took the photograph from P.T. - he let Phillip have it without protest - and stared down at the face of the woman who had given P.T., the loud, incredible, beautiful man that he loved, life. She stared up at him with eyes that sparkled, almost as if hinting that she knew of his love for her son. He shivered - not from the cold, this time - and set the photograph on the ringmaster's desk.

When he turned to P.T., he settled himself in the ringmaster's lap and pulled him closer. P.T. buried his face in Phillip's shoulder and Phillip struggled not to let the older man see his own tears. He felt terrible for never realizing how much he missed her, holding back his feelings even after all this time, and he ran his fingers through P.T.'s hair in an attempt to soothe him.

"Tell me about her," he encouraged in a whisper. He kissed P.T.'s forehead as the man looked up, his eyes red-rimmed.

Thunder roared outside - Phillip had failed to notice the storm getting stronger - and P.T. jumped. Phillip clung to him tight, alarmed to feel that he had started to tremble and shake again.

"Phin," he whispered, holding him, sliding one hand down to hold P.T.'s hand. "It's all right. It's just thunder."

"It rained," P.T. said. Phillip used his free hand to wipe at the man's tears as he spoke. "It rained the... the night she died."

Suddenly, the man's strong dislike of rain made much more sense. Phillip lowered his eyes again, ashamed. He'd never known that about P.T., but if he had quit thinking about himself and just asked—

"It was raining and I...I was w-with her. Alone. We were waiting for help, waiting for Papa to come back from the storm, but..."

The way he said 'Papa' made Phillip shudder - the man fifteen years his senior suddenly sounded like a scared eight year old boy again. He lifted P.T.'s face and kissed his cheeks, his nose. He tasted the salt of the older man's tears and closed his eyes, pulling away just slightly to ask his next question.

"How?" he whispered. "How did she—"

P.T. yanked away (Phillip heard a thud as he banged his leg against his desk) and shook his head violently. Eyes wide and alarmed, Phillip tried to get him to calm down.

"It's okay," he assured P.T., "you don't have to talk about it. I promise. I'm sorry for asking. Please, it's all right."

He nuzzled his face into P.T.'s neck and kissed the soft skin there. P.T.'s hands shook as he brought them up to Phillip's back, holding him to his chest. The younger man could feel the trembling fingers through his shirt and cuddled closer. P.T. still had tears on his face, his hands still trembled, but his breathing slowly evened out as he focused on the task of talking.

"The cabin we lived in burned down shortly after she - after she died," he confessed. "Papa and I were left with... left with nothing."

Phillip inhaled sharply. P.T. had never mentioned anything about a first fire.

He lost it, then, and began to cry. Startled, P.T. jerked back and held him at arm's length, his own eyes still watery.

"Phillip, darling, what are you—"

"I'm sorry," Phillip choked. "I'm sorry for crying, when this should be about you. But I - oh God, Phineas."

"Wh-What—?"

"Everything!" Phillip cried. He hid his face in P.T.'s chest, too afraid to look at him. "You know all about my parents. All about the hell that I—"

He realized that he was derailing, about to make it all about him again, and quickly backtracked.

"But you've never talked about your mother," Phillip whispered. He turned his head to the side and stared at the wall, still too cowardly to look up into P.T.'s eyes. "Truth be told, I'd practically forgotten the thought of you even having one. I'm so sorry. I—"

"Phillip—"

"No! Don't make excuses for me, Phineas, please. I've been self-absorbed and selfish about my own childhood, I don't - I didn't—"

"Phil—"

"I didn't - I didn't even know her name before today, P.T. I'm sorry."

"It's not that big a deal," P.T. whispered. "It's all right, Phillip. You just - you just caught me at a... bad time. You weren't supposed to see—"

"Not a big deal?" Phillip's voice cracked again and he winced, but forced himself to look up at the ringmaster. "P.T., you were orphaned by the time you were fifteen."

P.T. flinched. It was quick, it was slight - but it was there.

And it devastated Phillip Carlyle beyond words.

"I'm so sorry," Phillip whispered. Shakily, he got out of P.T.'s lap. "I - I should have realized how much you were bottling up inside." He wiped at his eyes. He hated the fact that he was crying, making this all about him yet again. "P.T., you deserve - you deserve someone so much better."

"What are you... What are you saying, Phillip?"

"I didn't even know her name," Phillip choked. "P.T., I love you, but I - I didn't even know your mother's name. I didn't know that you lived in a cabin. I didn't - I didn't..." His words trailed off and the room swirled around him. He shook his head, attempting to regain focus. "P.T., you deserve... you deserve someone who isn't so... so fucking,"

P.T.'s eyes widened. Outside of their couplings, he'd never heard Phillip cuss before.

"absorbed in himself that he can't tell when the l-love of his life is hurting. You d-deserve..."

Phillip paused. He pressed a hand to his forehead as he took a deep breath.

"You deserve someone that can light up your world just as much as you can light up mine," he finished in a whisper.

Phillip turned away, finally letting the tears fall as he approached the doorway. His head hurt like hell - he needed a goddamn drink. But before he could even leave the office, he felt a hand around his arm, pulling him back.

"What did you call me?" P.T. breathed as he pulled Phillip against his chest. His eyes were still teary, but he managed a small, wobbly smile as Phillip turned to face him.

"I—" Phillip fumbled for speech, managing to choke over the words. What a perfect playwright he was. "Phineas, I d-don't—"

"Phillip," P.T. started, holding the younger man's face with love and tenderness. Phillip's eyes were dark and wide as he looked up at him. "Any man... any man that calls you the love of his life deserves complete and total honesty."

P.T. kissed him then, his lips soft and warm against Phillip's. Phillip closed his eyes and clung to P.T. tight, never wanting to let go, not even when they pulled away.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about my mother," the ringmaster spoke, running a finger underneath one of Phillip's red-rimmed eyes. His eyes looked like a hazel duplicate. "It wasn't because of you, Phillip. Please get that silly idea out of your head."

"You're the one with the silly ideas," Phillip muttered. Despite himself, P.T. grinned. But the grin quickly fell and he sighed as he glanced over at the picture once more.

"That picture is the one thing we managed to save from the fire, and that's only because it was used for her funeral."

"You remember her funeral?" Phillip asked.

P.T. nodded. "There are... things that I've never been open about with anyone," he admitted, "not even Charity. After my father died, it was just me and my mother's picture for the longest time and I kept the closest, most personal things to myself. The circus helped open me up some, but... some things are buried deep inside for so long that you just can't bear to bring them out into the open again. Not even when you have a pretty, blue-eyed apprentice,"

"Partner," Phillip scowled.

"ready and willing to listen," P.T. finished, grinning. He pulled Phillip closer and inhaled deep as he buried his nose in the younger man's hair.

"Still," Phillip sighed, stepping back. "I... I focus too much on myself, and I'm sorry. You've never liked the rain. I should've noticed—"

"Today," P.T. interrupted with a sigh. He stared down at the floor, "is the anniversary of her... her passing."

Phillip's eyes widened. P.T. looked up at his horror-stricken expression and nodded.

"That's why I... didn't come down for breakfast. I'm sorry. I know it's an unhealthy way to cope, but - well, you've always had an outlet for pain, Phillip. You have your plays and the ability to bleed on paper. My... matters are much too dreary for the circus to deal with."

P.T. looked down again, despite himself. Phillip's expression softened and he reached out, grasping P.T.'s hand in his.

"You have me," he promised. "From now on - you have me."

P.T.'s smile then was the most heartwarming thing Phillip Carlyle had seen in his life. The ringmaster sat in his chair again and gently picked up the picture of his mother. Phillip lowered himself into the showman's lap and laid his head on his shoulder.

"Tell me about her," he requested.

And so P.T. did.

***

The next time it rained, Phillip was prepared. Thunder roared and crackled outside as they ate hot breakfast in bed.

Afterwards, P.T. laid with his head on Phillip's bare shoulder as he spoke of the wooden toys and little knick-knacks his mother used to make him.

[lastbluetardis]

And Babies Make Five and Six (2/16)

Summary: Sometimes the things we want the most stay just out of reach. But after an extra helping of heartache as they try for a third baby, James and Rose are blessed with double the joy.

Ten x Rose AU, teen, 5300 words

Betaed by @chocolatequeennk​: thank you so much, Nancy!

Tagging @doctorroseprompts​ because it’s a Doctor/Rose fic :)

NOTE: This story will contain themes of infertility. I will explicitly tag those chapters in case anyone needs to skip them. And remember, I’m only updating every other week, at least until school has finished, or I completely finished the second half of the story.

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16

“There’s my birthday girl!”

James turned around from where he was tending to the banana pancakes, and he watched Rose crouch down to embrace their now five-year-old. He impatiently waited for the pancake to cook, and once it was golden-brown, he set it on the serving plate and took his turn greeting Ainsley.

“Happy birthday, my darling!” he exclaimed, hoisting her up into his arms to twirl her exuberantly around the room. She laughed in his ear and tightened her arms and legs around him. He pointed to the clock, which read 7am, and he said, “Five years ago today, right at this very minute, I had no idea that my beautiful little girl was about to be born that afternoon and change my entire life.”

“I was born really early, right Daddy?” Ainsley said, even though she’d heard the story dozens of times.

“That’s right,” James said. “You weren’t supposed to be born ‘til December. But then you gave me and Mummy the best surprise of our lives. I love you so much, Ainsley.” He pressed a smacking kiss to her cheek then said, “Go on and sit down at the table. Your banana pancakes will be ready in just a tick.”

James turned back to the pancakes, and he cooked up the last of the batter before setting the steaming plate in the middle of the table beside the eggs and bacon Rose had placed there moments ago.

He worked on plating everyone’s food as Rose poured everyone something to drink, and soon the family was settled around the table, tucking into Ainsley’s birthday breakfast.

“This is really yummy, Daddy!” she said, stuffing a loaded forkful of pancake into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed, and James chuckled at his daughter.

“Thank you, but perhaps try a smaller bite next time?” he suggested.

The clanking of silverware against plates and the occasional unintelligible chatter from Sianin was the only sound for the next few minutes as they all enjoyed their breakfast. Then Ainsley reached for her cup of orange juice, and her sleeve pulled away from her hand to reveal her wrist, where a smudge of black ink decorated her skin. Rose saw it and gasped, forgetting she was in the middle of taking a sip of tea. The scalding liquid spluttered into her mouth and down her throat, causing her to choke.

She coughed and hacked as James patted her back unhelpfully, and she tried to stop her eyes from watering while she also tried to draw breath.

“All right?” James asked when her fit seemed to subside.

She shook her head and reached out for Ainsley’s arm.

“Sweetheart, are you… did you…?”

James’s attention was finally brought to the ink on his daughter’s wrist, and his eyes bugged.

“Hmm?” Ainsley glanced between James and Rose, furrowing her eyebrows at her parents, before she realized what they were looking at. “Oh, no. That’s just me. I wrote a message to my soulmate but haven’t gotten a reply yet.”

The knot in James’s stomach loosened, and he sighed with relief. He knew the eternal joy that came with a soulmate, and he wished for his children to experience the love he felt for and received from Rose, but not quite yet. She was still just his little girl, after all. It was only five years ago that he’d met her and held her for the first time. Selfish though it was, he didn’t want to share her with anyone yet, not even her perfect match.

Over the next few weeks, James and Rose continued to watch Ainsley go around with an unanswered message on her arm. After awhile, their hearts stopped jumping into their throats when they saw the ink they always thought belonged to their daughter’s soulmate.

“Are you sure it’s healthy for her to be doing that?” Jackie asked when she spotted Ainsley re-tracing the word ‘hello’ on her forearm.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“Well what if she doesn’t have a soulmate?” Jackie asked. “Ever. She’s getting her hopes up, and you’re encouraging it.”

“I wrote ‘hello’ on my arm when I was five,” James said, his tone a little frosty. “And look what came of it.”

He gestured vaguely in front of him, at the living room of his and Rose’s house, which was full of kid-induced clutter.

Jackie snorted. “Pull the other one. You were a teenager before you contacted Rose.”

“First off, I was eleven,” he said. “Secondly, it’s true! I walked around with ‘hello’ on my arm. Ask my dad.”

“Did you really keep it on your arm for six years though?” Jackie asked dubiously.

James’s ears burned. “Well, no. Not exactly. I sort of gave up on the idea of having a soulmate after a few years. But then that wonderful New Year’s Day happened and I met the love of my life.”

“Yeah, but what if that doesn’t happen for Ainsley?” Jackie stressed. “You’re setting her up for future heartbreak. Have you and Rose talked to her about the possibility that she might not have a soulmate?”

“Rose and I will cross that bridge if we come to it,” James said firmly, effectively ending the conversation.

Truthfully, he had no idea how to broach the subject with Ainsley. His five-year-old was hell-bent on the idea that she had a soulmate out there somewhere. She was so vehement in her belief, he didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise, and so he indulged in her musings about soulmates.

But did that make him a bad father for not preparing her for potential disappointment if it turned out that she didn’t have a soulmate? He just didn’t know, and so he preferred not to think about it.

December was soon upon them, bringing with it chilly weather and a house bursting with excitement for the impending arrival of Santa Claus.

Rose loved Christmastime, even if it was her busiest season. Everything was so beautiful, and the world seemed just a little bit kinder at this time of year. And decorating their home was always an enjoyable activity for her.

She looked into the kitchen, where James was entertaining their two daughters by teaching them how to bake Christmas biscuits. Well. He was entertaining Ainsley. Sianin was toddling around and running circuits through the kitchen and into the living room and back again.

As James and Ainsley baked and Sianin ran laps, Rose continued to decorate the house for Christmas. Ainsley’s interest in decorating had stopped once the tree was done and the stockings were hung, but Rose didn’t mind. It was fun to transform her home for the holidays. She moved to the wall of photographs in their living room and took them down to replace them with their Christmas photos through the years.

She enjoyed watching the progression of herself and James from fresh-faced kids into parents. Her eyes raked over her husband, who was seemingly unchanged by time. He was tall and thin as ever, and while there were a few more lines around his eyes and mouth and the occasional gray hair that he always tried to immediately pluck out, he was still as sexy as he was when she first met him.

She, on the other hand…

Rose sighed as she watched how her body had changed over the years. Her hips were wider, her boobs bigger, and her stomach seemed to have developed a permanent sag to it, more so after Sianin’s birth. She’d picked up weight around her face and in her thighs, too.

“Penny for ‘em.”

James came up to her with a biscuit in hand.

“Just thinking. You’ve stayed so gorgeous over the years.” Rose gestured to the photos on the wall. “You’re even sexier now than when you were twenty-three. You’ve aged like a fine wine. I’ve aged like moldy cheese.”

James frowned. “Don’t say that. You’re sexier now, too.”

Rose snorted. “Thanks, love, but no, I’m not.”

“Rose, you are,” he said softly. “You become more beautiful with every passing day, and I fall deeper in love with you every day, too. Yeah, your body has changed, but so has mine.” He lifted his jumper to expose his tummy, where the slightest paunch rested above his belt. He pinched it and screwed his face into an exaggerated grimace. “You’ve fattened me up, you have.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rose said, laughing as she patted his stomach. “You needed a bit of meat on your bones.”

“You never complained before,” he murmured, stepping up into her personal space.

She shivered as the length of his body pressed up against hers.

“Rose, your body is so gorgeous,” he whispered into her ear. He trailed the hand not holding the biscuit down her side and across to her belly then hips. “This body grew our two beautiful daughters, then gave birth to them.” He raised his hand to just under her breasts. “It fed them and nourished them for their first year of life. Your body is so, so incredible, Rose. I don’t care what it looks like. I wasn’t soulmated to your body, I was soulmated to you, no matter the package. But for what it’s worth, I am still as attracted to you now as I was eleven and a half years ago, and I still think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Rose grinned and leaned back against his chest.

“Have I told you recently that I love you?”

He hummed in her ear and pressed a soft kiss to the skin just below it.

“I don’t think you have,” he teased. “I’m feeling a little insecure about it, honestly.”

Rose giggled and spun around in his arms. She lifted her arms and draped them around his neck as she rocked onto her tiptoes.

“I love you very much,” she murmured, her lips a fraction of an inch away from his.

“Brilliant.” His breath puffed against her lips, making her shiver in anticipation. “Because I love you very much, too.”

Finally, he ducked down and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was a relatively chaste kiss, as there were two young children that could walk in on them at any moment, but it still felt amazing. She always loved kissing James. It warmed her from the inside out and made her so giddy she felt like nothing would ever be wrong in the world.

“Did you bring me a snack?” Rose asked, slightly breathless, as she pulled away from James.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” The hint of amusement in his voice puzzled Rose, until she saw the biscuit in his outstretched hand. “Ainsley didn’t quite press down hard enough on the biscuit cutter. A bit of dough was left in a very unfortunate place.”

Rose cackled as she saw the Santa biscuit with a small piece of dough hanging between his legs.

“Santa has a cock!”

“I thought this would amuse you. Care to eat the vulgar Santa?”

Rose grabbed it out of his hand, and bit off one of Santa’s legs.

“I always love these photos,” James said, gesturing to the wall of past Christmas photos.

“Me too,” she said. “It’s fun watching the girls grow year to year.”

Her eyes scanned across her daughters, watching Ainsley grow from a tiny infant and into an equally-tiny child, while Sianin grew from a pudgy baby into a pudgier toddler.

Rose’s eyes lingered on the photo from two years ago, and at her swollen, pregnant belly. James seemed to catch her view, too.

“Maybe next year’s photo will have you big with Baby Three,” he mused, tapping a fingernail against the glass overtop her pregnant stomach.

“Or with Baby Three in the flesh,” she said hopefully.

It was nearly six months since she’d thought she was pregnant, but wasn’t. Six months since they decided to try for another baby. Nothing yet, but Rose was optimistic. It took over seven months to get pregnant with Sianin; remembering back, at the time it had felt like it had taken forever to get pregnant. But seven months was hardly any time at all. As it was, it felt like the last six months had flown by. Besides, Sianin wasn’t even two yet. There was no rush.

“No, Sianin, hot!” James and Rose wheeled around at Ainsley’s sharp shout and Sianin’s indignant squeal. “No touch! Don’t touch the oven!”

They entered the kitchen to see Ainsley with her arms around Sianin’s waist, hoisting her away from the metal pan of biscuits that had recently come out of the oven.

“No, no, no!” Sianin shrieked, flailing in Ainsley’s arms. “Bisky, Ainsley! Bisky!”

“What have we got here?” James asked, smoothly gliding up to their girls and taking Sianin up into his arms.

“She tried touching the oven,” Ainsley said unnecessarily.

“Yes, I heard,” he said. Sianin was still whimpering in his arms and leaning towards the hot biscuits on the pan, so James reached over for a cooler one from their first batch. “Here you are, darling. Little bites, now.” James then turned to his other daughter and said, “Thank you, Ainsley, for making sure she didn’t get hurt. I’m sorry you had to do that. I should’ve been watching.”

“S’okay,” Ainsley said brightly. “I’m not gonna let her burn herself.” She spotted Rose munching on Vulgar Santa. “Did Daddy and me do good?”

“Very good,” Rose praised, finally popping the last bit into her mouth. “Do you like baking with Daddy?”

“Uh huh,” she said. “Daddy lets me taste the dough.”

“Not too much, though. We don’t want you getting sick.” Rose caught James’s eye, and then glanced meaningfully between the girls. “Right, I’m gonna go decorate in the bedroom. You stay out here with Daddy, okay.”

“M’kay,” Ainsley said distractedly as she made more cut-out Santas from the dough that was rolled out on the counter.

Before Rose could turn and walk out of the room, James stepped up to her and murmured, “Are you sure you don’t want any help in the bedroom?”

“Behave,” Rose chastised with a giggle. “Insatiable, you are.” She pushed lightly against his chest. “You keep Ainsley entertained out here while I wrap some of her gifts. Then maybe later tonight we can revisit the idea of your assistance in the bedroom. There’s a sprig of mistletoe I have yet to hang… it might look good above our bed.”

She pecked a kiss to James’s cheek and sauntered out of the kitchen, being sure to sway her hips more than normal to give James a parting show.

As Christmas drew nearer, the girls came home with more crafts done at school and daycare. Of course, the daycare aides were the ones making Sianin’s, but nevertheless, Rose loved the little green handprint that was supposed to be a tree and the white footprint that was a snowman.

Their Christmas tree was soon adorned by the kids’ ornaments, hanging proudly front and center.

On the last day of school before the holidays, Rose noticed Ainsley seemed subdued as they drove home. She chalked it up to the excitement of the holidays finally tiring her daughter out, but when they got home and Ainsley still hadn’t said much, nor had she fallen asleep on the car ride home, Rose suspected something else was weighing on her five-year-old’s mind.

“How was school today, sweetheart?” she asked, hanging up Ainsley’s jacket and her own in the closet.

Ainsley shrugged. Before Rose could ask what was wrong, Ainsley looked up. Her brow was furrowed and her face looked troubled, and Rose’s heart sank, her mind running through all of the possible scenarios of why Ainsley looked so distressed.

“We were talking about families today as we made gingerbread houses,” Ainsley said. “Because some stupid boys were teasing William about having two mummies. And so we started talking about family, and all my friends have two grans and two grandads. But I only have one. Why do I only have one, Mummy?”

That had not at all been what Rose was expecting. She’d steeled herself to hear Ainsley tell her she was being bullied or something in school. But not this.

“You do have two grans and two grandads,” Rose began gently. “But Daddy’s mum died, and so did my dad. You remember all the stories of your Grandma Vera and Grandad Pete?”

Ainsley nodded slowly, but she still looked troubled.

Rose sighed and beckoned Ainsley to sit on the couch with her. On the way there, Rose grabbed two photo albums that she knew would contain photographs of James’s mum and her dad.

“My dad died when I was just a baby,” Rose began, flipping to the photos of her father. Her mum had brought that album out a lot when Rose was a kid, particularly when Jackie had had a bit to drink. She remembered sitting with her mum on her bed and listening to the stories of how Jackie met Pete, and their wedding, and how happy he was when he held Rose for the first time. “Here he is.”

“How old were you?” Ainsley asked, her eyes scanning across Pete’s face.

“Just a baby,” Rose repeated. “About six months old, I think.”

“Does it make you sad you don’t have a daddy?”

Rose shrugged. “A little bit, I suppose. I don’t have any memories of my dad, though, so that makes it easier. But it does make me sad to think of all the lost potential… My dad never got to see me grow up, or get a soulmate, or meet you and Sianin. But at least I’ve got my mum. Your Gran.”

“Gran lost her soulmate really soon,” Ainsley noted. “A lot sooner than Grandad lost his.”

“Oh, no, my mum and dad weren’t soulmates,” Rose corrected.

Ainsley blinked in surprise.

“Soulmates are the exception, not the rule, sweetheart,” Rose reminded. “Remember only a small portion of people are soulmated. Yet there are plenty of people who find true love anyway. Like my mum and dad.”

“But it’s not really true love,” Ainsley said.

“Don’t say that, of course it is,” Rose reprimanded gently. “People fall in love regularly every day, without being soulmated. Like Uncle Mickey and his girlfriend. Or Auntie Donna and her boyfriend. Loads of married people aren’t soulmated but are still extremely happy.”

“Oh,” Ainsley said quietly, as though the thought had never occurred to her.

And perhaps it hadn’t, Rose realized. Ainsley’s main frame of reference was Rose’s relationship with James. She loved James so much, and she loved how much he loved being soulmated to her, but Rose worried he’d romanticized soulmates far too much for Ainsley and had her believing that was the only way to find true love.

“You know it’s okay to not have a soulmate, right Ainsley?” Rose murmured, covering her daughter’s forearm where she knew the word “hello” was still written.

“I guess. But I really want one. I want to have someone who loves me like Daddy loves you,” Ainsley said.

“I want that for you, too. So much. No matter how it happens, though.”

Ainsley nodded, then she closed the book in her lap and took the other photo album from Rose. Vera’s face smiled up at them from the pages, lodging an aching twinge in Rose’s chest, as it always did when she thought about Vera, and how close they’d come to meeting, knowing, and loving each other.

“Hey, she looks like me!”

Rose looked down at her daughter’s excited exclamation and smiled when she saw the photo Ainsley was pointing at. It was an old photo of Vera when she was Ainsley’s age.

“Technically you look like her,” Rose said, playfully nudging her elbow into Ainsley’s ribs. “But yeah, you look similar.”

“She’s really pretty,” Ainsley said, flipping through the book to later photos of Vera. “Is that Daddy?”

Rose saw a dark-haired baby sleeping on Vera’s chest with his pudgy fist in his mouth and a layer of drool covering his chin and Vera’s shirt. Vera looked so at peace, cradling her son to her chest as he slept, and Rose smiled at the scene they made.

“Yeah, it is,” Rose said.

“Are there pictures of you as a baby, Mummy?” Ainsley asked as she flipped to a new page and saw a photograph of James when he was a toddler.

Rose nodded and went to the bookshelf to select a few more photo albums for her daughter to peruse.

They spent nearly an hour pouring over the albums together, with Ainsley laughing at antiquated fashion trends and hairstyles of her mum and dad, and gran and grandad.

“How old was Daddy when his mummy died?” Ainsley asked, finally reaching the part of the book where Rose replaced Vera in the photographs with James and Robert.

“Twenty-three,” Rose whispered, her mind painfully recalling that awful night when she’d learned what had happened. “I was almost eighteen.”

“She died on April twenty-fifth?” Ainsley verified, and at Rose’s nod, her eyes widened. “Did you miss your first meeting with Daddy?”

“Of course not,” Rose said. “It was a little delayed, because Daddy got a little hurt in the car accident too, but no, sweetheart, we still had our first meeting.”

“How did it go?” Ainsley asked.

“It was perfect,” Rose said honestly, remembering the utter joy in meeting her soulmate for the first time. “Your daddy made me the most wonderful dinner my first night with him. Then a few days later, he took me to a romantic restaurant where we danced beneath the stars.”

“That sounds nice,” Ainsley said with a soft sigh. “I wish I could’ve met Daddy’s mummy and your daddy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I wish they could’ve met you, too,” Rose said, giving Ainsley a tight squeeze. “They would have loved you so much. You and Sianin.”

oOoOo

They set out for Scotland two days before Christmas. After reassuring Ainsley that Santa would still know where to drop off her gifts, they loaded everyone into the car. Robert had stopped by earlier that week to take Ainsley and Sianin’s gifts to the manor so that they wouldn’t see their parents bringing them, and he had promised to hide them in the cellar for James and Rose.

The drive passed by relatively uneventfully. Sianin had slept through most of it, and eventually Ainsley fell asleep too. Robert was the only one there when they arrived, but the rest of the family would be coming on Christmas Eve.

“It’ll be quite crowded,” James noted. “Jackie’s coming with Mickey and his girlfriend. And Rita-Anne. Donna and her boyfriend. Wilf and Sylvia. Grandma. Have I missed anyone?”

“That’s everyone.”

“It’ll be an early start for everyone on Christmas,” James said. “Seven is the latest they get. That’s the latest Rose and I could push it for Ainsley. If she had her way, we’d be up and opening presents at five in the morning.”

Robert laughed. “I’ll make sure I program the coffee to be ready by seven. I made up the master suite for you, Rose, and the girls. Whoever wants to sleep through Ainsley’s early morning can take the upstairs bedrooms.”

Though as it turned out, nobody wanted to sleep through Christmas morning.

Promptly at seven in the morning, James and Rose—carrying a drowsy Sianin—made their way to the living room, where all of the presents sat beneath the lit tree. Almost everyone was bleary-eyed, but they all gathered in the living room to watch the magic of Christmas through Ainsley’s eyes.

It took less than a half hour for Ainsley to open up all of her presents. The majority were from Santa, but James and Rose claimed credit for a few.

Sianin opened one of her presents, but after she got it open, she was more interested in the shiny bows littering the floor.

“Can I open Sianin’s presents?” Ainsley asked as Sianin picked up another bow and added it to her collection on Rose’s lap.

“Oh, sure, go ahead,” James said. “Sian, darling, Ainsley’s opening your gifts. D’you wanna help her?”

“No,” she said, but she stepped up to her sister and took the bow Ainsley had ripped off.

Once all of the gifts had been exchanged among the family, James and Robert started on Christmas dinner.

“Birdy,” Sianin chirped as she wandered into the kitchen just as James was seasoning the turkey. “Nakey birdy. Dead birdy.”

James chuckled and said, “Yep. Naked, dead birdy. But a tasty birdy.”

“Tasty birdy,” Sianin repeated. “Up, Daddy.”

She thrust her arms up towards him, but Robert was the one who scooped her up.

“Daddy’s hands are a bit yucky,” Robert explained as Sianin leaned around him to see her dad.

“I’ll hold you in a minute,” James promised, before he flipped the turkey upside down in the roasting pan and popped it into the oven. He washed his hands then motioned for his dad to give him his daughter.

“Turkey birdy,” Sianin said, pointing to the oven. “Supper birdy turkey.”

“Indeed,” James said. He flicked the interior oven light on then crouched down with Sianin so she could see inside. “The turkey birdy is cooking so it can become our supper.”

She grinned and babbled some more about dead, naked birds as James kept her on his hip and started getting the ingredients out for the dinner rolls.

“Are you being Daddy’s big helper?” Rose cooed as she stepped into the kitchen.

“Big helper,” Sianin said.

“Yep! She’s my little chef,” James said proudly, pinching her stomach lightly to get her to laugh.

Sianin remained with James in the kitchen until her afternoon nap. Rose and James were worried that she wouldn’t sleep because of all of the excitement of it being Christmas, but thankfully she managed to fall asleep and stay asleep for nearly two hours.

When her nap was over, it was nearing dinner time, and James’s prowess in the kitchen was finally showcased.

“Wonderful, as always,” Rose praised with a kiss, having sampled the turkey as she helped carve it.

The rest of the family trickled into the kitchen to help carry the dishes of food to the dining room table, and after everyone was seated and the traditional Christmas dinner prayer was said, everyone took turns filling their plate with food.

James kept Sianin in his lap and made toddler-sized bites for her on his plate, while Rose helped Ainsley get servings of all of the dishes she would like.

The conversation was sparse at first as everyone tucked into the food and praised James on what a delicious turkey he’d made.

“Tasty, nakey birdy. Dead birdy. Yummy birdy, Daddy,” Sianin had squealed, earning her a round laughter from the room.

The rest of the Christmas holidays were uneventful. Jackie and Donna wanted to go out shopping on Boxing Day, and Ainsley had wanted to join in the fun, too. The rest of the family stayed home to recuperate from Christmas, and to watch a football match. Rose had never really gotten into the sport, but James enjoyed the game, so she sat beside him with her head on his shoulder and watched the players run up and down the field.

The good thing about having the family around was that it gave James and Rose extra eyes and hands to take care of the girls. Everyone was eager to dote on Ainsley and Sianin, and play with them.

After Boxing Day, people began to head home. Mickey and Martha were the first to leave, as Martha had a shift at the hospital the next day. By the twenty-ninth, only Robert and Jackie remained at the mansion, where they were going to be babysitting the girls as James and Rose went on their anniversary holiday.

They chose to stay in Scotland for their anniversary, and they planned a four-day tour of four different islands. While it was quite cold for the duration of their trip, they enjoyed sampling the local culture.

They were on the Isle of Skye for New Year’s Eve, and they listened to the fireworks outside and enjoyed the bursts of color illuminating their room as they rang in the year in their own private celebration.

“So, where d’you wanna go next year?” James got the sentence out before he let out a low moan.

“You really wanna talk about next year? Right now?”

Rose ground her hips down on him harder and faster, making James’s brain short out on anything that wasn’t the extreme pleasure he was feeling.

“Just popped into my head,” he breathed after a minute, gripping her hips as he arched into her thrusts. They were quiet for a few moments, minus their exhales and soft moans of pleasure as they leisurely made love.

“Any ideas?” he asked as he flipped them so Rose was on her back now.

“I have a few ideas of how I can make you stop talking,” she said with a tongue-touched grin.

“You can share those too, if you’d like,” James said, and he smirked when he thrust sharply into her, making her eyes scrunch shut and her mouth fall open.

“Wanker,” she panted.

“Not at the moment I’m not.”

Their banter gradually dwindled as their desire for release grew. Wordless grunts and groans took over, before finally Rose tipped over in pleasure, bringing James with her moments later.

“God, that’s good,” she sighed as her muscles gave a few final pulses around him.

James nodded in agreement as his world swam, even behind closed eyelids. Making love with Rose was always so amazing and Earth-shattering.

When he felt like he could move again, he rolled off of her and instead tucked himself into her side. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders as he draped his arm around her hips and his leg across hers.

“I want to go somewhere special next year,” James whispered. “It’s our ten-year anniversary, after all. We should go somewhere nice.”

“Did you have a place in mind?” Rose asked, carding her fingers through his hair

“Somewhere tropical, I think,” he mused. “Beaches and sunbathing and seeing you in a bikini.”

Rose snorted, and the sound made him grin in return.

“Yeah, you in swim trunks isn’t a bad view, either,” she drawled.

“And we can dine outside for our anniversary,” James said, tracing random patterns across her hip bone. “We can never do that; it’s too cold, usually.”

“Do you wish we’d gotten married in the summertime?” Rose asked.

“Nah,” he said. “Our wedding day was perfect as it was. I don’t need warmth and summer vacations to celebrate our anniversary. Just being able to celebrate with you makes me happy.”

Rose grinned at him and pressed a kiss to his hair.

“So what sort of tropical island were you thinking?” she asked.

“Dunno. ‘Tropical island’ was as far as I got in my mental planning,” he admitted. “I figured I ought to run it by you to see if you were agreeable.”

“I am quite agreeable,” she said. “Let’s see… There’s the Caribbean.”

“Fiji,” James added.

“The Bahamas.”

“Tahiti.”

“Maldives. That was a beautiful island,” Rose said, reminiscing on her second honeymoon with James when they toured the world together.

“I think I want to go somewhere we haven’t been yet, if that’s okay,” James said.

“Absolutely. I always love going new places with—” A huge yawn cracked her jaw then, and she nuzzled closer to him. “—With you,” she mumbled against his chest.

James chuckled and pressed a kiss to her hair. “We can talk more about it later. Happy New Year, love.”

<-- Ch1 | Ch3 -->

[supernutellastuff]

Revelations

This is my entry to the WonderBat Holiday event created by @fyeahwonderbat for the theme Birthday. You can find it on ao3 here.

I'm super late but this is my first Wonderbat fic and I was super intimidated by all the talented writers in the fandom. Hope you enjoy!

The invitation was lying on her desk when she entered her office at the Metropolis Museum of Art. Diana had finished her work for the day and was about to gather her belongings and leave when the stiff envelope caught her attention. Inside, embossed in silver ink, was an invitation by the Wayne Trust to celebrate their founder’s birthday.

“Oh, these arrived with that,” said Marcia, poking her head inside. She held out the elegant arrangement of flowers that somehow matched the colour scheme of the letter. “He really is smooth, like everyone says. Or does he just have an excellent assistant?”

Alfred does have distinguished taste, Diana thought privately. She took the bouquet from her intern. While the flowers smelled wonderful, as a gift she considered them to be quite ineffectual. “Thank you, Marcia. You can keep them, actually.”

“Oh, wow. Um, are you sure?”

Diana nodded as she pulled up the calendar on her phone. Her departure to Paris was scheduled on that day…

“So, yeah about the flight to Paris,” Marcia asked. “Should I cancel the ticket?”

She looked away, considering. Louvre had lent her to the Metropolis Museum for their exhibition on Greek art. Her term was coming to an end, but lately Diana had found herself pushing the dates back further and further. While Paris was a charming city, there was something about Metropolis –or more specifically, about its grim sister city- that held her back. “Yes, do that. I’ll postpone my departure.”

Well, she wasn’t planning on missing his birthday.

.

.

Bruce approached her as soon as she arrived. Almost as if he were lying in wait for her. The thought amused and pleased her in equal measures.

“Happy Birthday,” she greeted, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. He smelled nice; musk with a hint of spice. She lingered.

“Do you send flowers to every person you invite?”

He chuckled lowly. “Only to those who might need some extra persuasion.”

“Well, they were very lovely, and quite useless.”

A gleam in his eye told her that he had received the message.

Bruce introduced her around as Diana Prince, art curator. Most of the attendees recognised her as a familiar fixture at recent benefits and galas and soon they fell into pleasant, if not banal, small talk. They asked about her work at the Louvre, discussed the record-breaking amount a Picasso had netted in an auction, and spoke about the Royal Russian Ballet Company due to make a stop in Metropolis. No one mentioned the high-profile investigation into a drug smuggling ring that had finally ended after the main perpetrators were found dangling over Gotham Harbour, trussed up and ready for the police. This time, there were no bat brands on their skin.

All the while, Diana watched Bruce from the corner of her eye. He seemed relaxed, ready with a quip or a playful smirk whenever the occasion demanded. He looked like an agreeable man, if not entirely forgettable. But it was the moments when his façade slipped that Diana found endlessly fascinating; the weariness in the set of his shoulders during a lull in the conversation, the dark pull of his mouth whenever a dismissive comment about Gotham’s less privileged was passed, the restlessness in his eyes as he thanked person after person for their birthday wishes. She realised that Bruce Wayne was just another mask for him.

A while later, she slipped onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, admiring the Metropolis skyline. A flute of champagne dangled from her hand. Bruce found her not too long after, and deftly replaced her empty glass with a fresh one. She smiled her thanks.

“Admiring the view?”

“The lights do sparkle like jewels,” she replied. “But I miss skies that used to be full of stars.”

“Can’t say the same for me. All that I think about when I look up to the sky, is what’s coming for us.”

“This invasion you speak about-”

Bruce held up his hand. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. Tonight’s for enjoying good company, and…letting loose.” It was no surprise that the man who spent his days in the boardroom, his nights patrolling the streets, and the rest of his time forming an alliance to prepare for the end of the world, would feel uncomfortable with the concept of taking a night off.

When Diana told him so, he looked mildly offended. “Hey, I haven’t forgotten to have a good time. I’m not that old.”

“Being old has nothing to do with enjoying life.” She crossed her arms pointedly. “I’m an enjoyable person.”

“Debatable.” He hid a smile behind his glass. “Anyway, in human years, I’m-” He stopped suddenly as a thought struck him. His face collapsed into a sullen frown.

“What?”

“I’m older now than my father ever was, Diana,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I forget that. And when it comes back to me…” The grip on his scotch tightened. “It’s not fair. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

Moving closer, she laid a hand on his shoulder. Any words of comfort that came to her mind felt hollow in front of the kind of tragedies Bruce had suffered. Taking action, always moving, never stopping; the Batman had mastered this coping strategy, and so had Diana after she lost Antiope, her home, and Steve. But sometimes, memories could heal the wounds time left. The long hours she had spent with the photograph had taught her that.

So she asked him about his childhood, about his birthdays growing up, his parents. “Tell me. I’d like to know.”

This time when he smiled, there was no pretence.

.

.

The art exhibition was particularly noisy. The moneyed elite mingled with the young bohemians amidst the clink of glasses and lively conversation. Diana moved to a quieter corner and savoured the peaceful moments as she strolled from painting to painting. She paused at a few, but never for long. The years had made her appreciate the evolution of art, but she would always prefer the classics. There was one piece that caught her eye, however. It was an abstract painting; a brilliant blue giving way to a constellation of grey. The title was simply one word. Revelation.

“Marvellous, isn’t it?” asked a woman in a gown the exact shade of azure as the painting. “I like the inversion, blue to grey instead of grey to blue. Not exactly a happy thought though, is it?”

“Well, now and then, one does need a grey revelation,” she replied, thinking of foggy London skies.

The woman laughed softly. “Now why would a person like you have any greys in their life?”

Diana shrugged and turned back to the art. The woman, sensing that she had misstepped, touched her arm gently. “I apologise for any presumptions. Claire duMont,” She held out her hand, Diana took it. “I manage the gallery and it is second nature to slip into that persona. The fact that a curator of the arts from the Louvre is here is privilege enough, I don’t need to nudge you to buy one of the works too.” She smiled winningly, revealing straight white teeth. Diana gave her a brief smile, suddenly tired of this farce.

Claire shot her a conspiratorial look. “Now there’s someone whose patronage I could use.” Diana started a little on seeing him. “Bruce Wayne. Have you met him? Shame he’s rarely attended these things lately. He can easily afford every single piece of art in the room.”

Bruce was yet to glance their way. He was deep in conversation with a young woman dressed in a striking red, a charming smile on his face. But his eyes, Diana noticed, were flat. She considered going up to him but held back. Soon, Wonder Woman and Batman would have to stand together against an army of aliens. The less Diana Prince and Bruce Wayne were seen together in public, the less suspicious it would seem. Perhaps that moment on the balcony on his birthday was the last time. The thought filled her with momentary sadness.

Claire bit her lip in contemplation. “Alex Wentworth has already shown an interest in the sculpture but if I can draw Wayne’s attention to it, it may drive up the price. Or perhaps he’ll be more interested in a painting? I saw him lingering near that portrait… What could it remind him of? His dead father? Yes, that could work…”

The polished façade was off and Diana could see the undisguised hunger in her eyes. She left Claire duMont standing there, muttering to herself.

.

.

The next morning, a package arrived with her morning tea. It was flat and rectangular and even though she had an inkling of what it could be, Diana gasped after carefully cutting it open.

It was the painting that had drawn her notice last night. Revelation. It stood propped against the wall of her hotel room, fitting in quite beautifully. This annoyed Diana even more. A hundred years, and she’d never felt the need or want for anyone else to buy her presents or flowers. She wasn’t going to start today.

She was about to pick up her phone when she spotted a note she’d missed earlier.

Diana,

I don’t know when your birthday is and I don’t know if it even matters. But this is for when you kept me company for mine, and all the days before.

So, happy birthday.

Yours,

Bruce.

Diana sipped her tea with quiet satisfaction. The painting deserved a more permanent home in Gotham. And perhaps, so did she.

[halfhumanscribe]

Novel Corp. - Orientation (1/3)

SYNOPSIS:  Some people will do anything to get a job and keep.  Sometimes it means doing things you don’t want to, sometimes its being part of something that doesn’t make any sense. RATING: M - MATURE (Language, Violence, Horror Elements) ORIGINAL PUBLISHING YEAR:  2012 WORD COUNT: 1729

Part 2 - Click Here Part 3 - Click Here

Novel Corp. - Prelude by Inganno Orientation (1/3)

Donald looked at the photo, taking in all the little details of his subject, before looking up from his desk at the man sitting across from him. Compared to the surveillance shots in front of him, the man seemed more pristine and professional, sporting a casual long sleeve button up, with a black and grey checkered sweater vest over it. Much better compared to the graphic tee and washed out jeans the kid was wearing in the picture. His hair was much more neat compared to the disheveled street view from the photographs, and and he certainly didn’t look like the lazy college student who had forgotten to set his alarm as the casual street pictures suggested.

No, the man that was sitting in front of Donald seemed like he was trying to take things much more seriously. Though, Donald wouldn’t go as far as to call him a man just yet. He must have been no more than nineteen or twenty years of age at the time, possibly younger. His hair color was so obviously fake, it almost hurt to look at it. You would have to be blind not to see how bleached it was. That type of style was even stranger considering the bizarre contrast of his hair color to his dark toned skin.

Still, he came “highly” recommended from one of his workers who was able to successfully retire earlier that year, so he wasn’t going to do much complaining. God knows they needed the extra help with the rival companies taking up all the fresh blood. But this kid… he wasn’t sure if this kid was actually going to be worth it, or if Louis was just trying to pawn him off on the corporation.

“So then Mr. Reinhold Eckhart,” Donald began as he dropped the photos on his desk, “what makes you think you got what it takes to work for us?”

Reinhold felt a small lump scuffle about in his throat. He did his best to swallow it, trying to keep the fear of being interviewed for a job from surfacing. He could already tell he was being judged like a piece of porterhouse. With all the interviews he had gone through the past few weeks, Reinhold thought he’d be used to them by now. But instead, he just found them to be as nerve wracking and panic inducing as always.

“Well… Donald,” he coughed out in the most confident voice he could muster, “I think I could bring a lot to the company.” He closed his mouth and kept himself as silent as could be.

The man at his desk didn’t like it. Silence after a question like that usually denoted insecurity in the answer. Still, Donald had to do his job, no matter how much he was beginning to dislike the person in front of him.

“Like what?” he asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

The question left Reinhold speechless as his mind scrambled to think of an answer. He was no good in these situations, and found himself drawing a blank, as usual.

“Surely you must have something,” Donald continued. He opened his desk and pulled out a cheap gas station lighter, igniting it and using the flame to burn the end of his cigarette. “I mean, we only have about twenty people working here, compared to our rivals which are usually sporting employees in the hundreds or even thousands. This place could definitely use a lot of improving. So what do you got?”

“Well, I um…” Reinhold stuttered.

Louis sure knows how to pick ‘em, Donald thought. He wondered if maybe he should call him sometime and see if he wanted to grab a beer sometime. It would certainly make things more interesting then dealing with nothing but standard rumor and hearsay jobs, he continued to think.

“I work well with others?” Reinhold told him, sounding completely unconvinced.

Donald rolled his eyes. “Listen kid, I’m gonna level with ya,” he said with a puff of smoke leaving his mouth. “This line of work is not easy. You have to do a lot of traveling, a lot of leg work and investigation, and depending on the assignment, there’s a good chance you may come back mortally scarred. Now I can tell your a nice, easy going kid, right?”

Reinhold held his breath and nodded, doing his best to look convincing. He hoped the man didn’t realize he lied about doing drugs on his application. He couldn’t help it that acid was just a fascinating drug. Hell, he was still slightly coming off a trip from that morning – something he hoped would have worn off by that time in the afternoon.

“Good,” Donald added, “because I don’t like hiring young kids like you, only to send you home to your mamas in a body bag… which I have done, several time. So why don’t you just take your nice suit and your resume, and just go on home and forget you were here.” Donald took in another puff of ash and turned the seat of his chair around to look out the window into the streets of Nashville.

“No!” Reinhold yelled. “I need this job! I can do whatever it is you want me to do! I’m really desperate for something! I’ve already been fired from the last three jobs, and no one is taking me seriously anymore!” He slapped his hands over his mouth, realizing he may have said just a bit too much.

He expected Donald to get up and throw him out of the room, but instead heard the smallest of chuckles come from the chair.

“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” Donald laughed. “I got nothing against you. And if you want me to be honest, your little sob story isn’t the worst I’ve heard. I’m a guy in my sixties, young man. I’ve been in this line of business for over three decades, with the same job, and same title, and even still half the same employees. Someone like you begging for a job isn’t new to me.” A trail of smoke slowly snaked up into the air as he continued to chuckle at Reinhold. “I want you to leave because this is a job that isn’t meant for everyone. It really isn’t as exciting as the public would lead you to believe, and has a tendency to warp most of the people who stay on.”

Reinhold could feel that lump forming again. He ignored it, and instead opted for a calming breath. “I don’t care. I need this job. So whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

The chair began to rock back and worth slowly as the sunlight coming in through the windows faded away as an overpass took over.

“Would you risk your life?”

Reinhold felt a chill run up his spine. Why would someone even ask a question like that? He knew the job he was interviewing for, but it was still strange to hear such a question out loud from anyone.

“I know what I’m getting into,” Reinhold squeaked through the lump in his throat. “I’ve seen the news reports and the investigations on TV, and I’ve even researched some of the stuff you guys try to cover up. I know you guys aren’t easy to work for. Just teach me how to use a gun and I’ll be fine.”

Donald stood up from his seat and shook his head. “It’s a little more involved then that, and most of those media exposes are about our rival companies, but I see that you’re at least committed.” He then walked around his desk and offered his free hand to the boy. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt though. Welcome to Novel Corp.”

The lump disintegrated in Reinhold’s throat, and was replaced with sudden joy and relief. He smiled and took the man’s hand, squeezing down hard and shaking it. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” he exclaimed with excitement. “I promise you, I’m gonna be the best damn employee you ever had.”

“I doubt it,” Donald puffed with a wink, “but you’ll at least be useful for now as a paper pusher and an on-site investigator. Maybe we can teach you some minor medical training. I know Suki’s been needing extra help lately.”

“D-d-definitely!” Reinhold stuttered. Filling out real paper work for Novel Corp.? Going to investigate the on site disturbances when required? Learning how to save lives? It all seemed like some wonderful fantasy. It was the kind of job that a person saw in the movies and wished they could have. True, it seemed like the same kind of training and work he could have received if he had joined the army, but this was Novel Corp.! He had to know, “When do you want me to start?”

Donald smiled, and secured his cigarette between his teeth. “Right now.”

In a flash of his hand, the man pulled something metal out of his pocket and placed the barrel of it right in Reinhold’s belly. He pulled the trigger twice, the sound muffled by a silencer, and the flash covered by the young man’s clothes. He pulled the pistol away immediately after firing, letting the smoke clash together with his cigarette.

All Reinhold felt was something painful entering his body, and the force sending him back. But he only fell back slightly before he was pulled forward. He was still shaking Donald’s hand. His sight looked down and found two small holes in his clothes, a tiny tendril of gun smoke spitting up from one of them. His body went limp as the shock began to set in, and as his vision went black, he only then realized that maybe… just maybe… that job he was offered at the Burger and Stuff hadn’t been such a bad offer after all.

A woman came into the office a moment later to collect the lifeless body. She took Reinhold by dragging him away via his underarms, as Donald remained standing in the same place, puffing on his ever dying cigarette. When it was almost gone, he spit it out onto the tile floor, and stamped it with his foot. He then went back to his desk and disposed of the surveillance photos.

End of Part One…