#ive been eating so much popcorn help why is it so good and easy to eat

[sweatandwoe]

Hey, I started following you in your Arcane thirst era. Then when I once randomly checked up on you, you were all about some demonic pope rock band characters, but where are we now? What is this blog about now? I have fallen off the wagon and need to be brought back up to speed

popped corn

[luneski]

hello! welcome to blog post #2! i was real stoned while writing that last post so ive been reading it a lot to make sure i said everything right. it made me think today about “eating healthy for cheap…” i mentioned lots of canned and frozen foods because i had fruits and vegetables in mind, but i want to clarify that senshi needs more than just fruits and veggies and WE DO TOO!! senshi complains about adventures meals commonly avoiding fruits and vegetables, and is persistent about the importance of a BALANCED meal. just like he said- you need fats, carbs, fruits, veggies (and more)!

i see people now are far too worried about how much protein or calories they’re getting, and health blogs barely ever mention vitamins anymore. nobody wants to talk about the yucky stuff, like fiber and digestion. digestion is easily one of the most important functions in your body (i believe) and you can do a lot for yourself by taking care of it!

since a lot of my health issues have been centered around my stomach and my vitamin levels, i focus on fiber. but if you live in america, you should too because you’re at risk of having the same deficiencies i have! 🫵 most americans don’t meet their fiber goal daily, and many people struggle with constipation as a part of their daily life. that will make you grouchy and more easily overstimulated + tons of other stuff!!! for some people and in my case, your body won’t always digest stuff right if there’s not enough fiber and you may not absorb the nutrients you’re eating. it’s actually recommended to try and consistently get vitamins from your diet and not pills, because you absorb it better when you eat it (just like the medicine senshi said worked better when cooked!) that’s also why it’s so important to hit all your food groups. carbs aren’t an issue, btw- you just need to make sure you’re eating healthy grains. i have a gluten allergy so i actually make most (hopefully all soon) of my carb foods from scratch (waffles, bread, pasta) which gives me more opportunity to pick what grains i get. not everyone has time to bake from scratch though, so oatmeal, wild rice, and popcorn are all some great cheap/easy grains to get in you!

(here’s the mayo clinic guide to grains. they have a guide about fiber too i can send to anyone interested. i’m a patient at mayo with their gender clinic team and i trust them as a resource, but don’t forget to talk to your nutritionist or doctor to figure out what you need and what would be best for you. don’t be afraid to ask them questions, it’s their job!)

you should be getting good fats too. avocados/avocado oil, olive oil, and oily fish like salmon are all some great examples of healthy fats. if you like to bake and you’re up for a challenge, i made butter-free cheese danishes for a friend this year using avocados as fat in the pastry dough!

probiotics can be found in things that are fermented, like yogurt or even olives and apple cider vinegar.

when it comes to meat, i know some people say red or white is healthier, but i cannot stress the importance of talking to your doctor about it!! people with certain medical conditions or allergies may not be able to eat certain meats, and there may be some meats that you should be eating MORE bc of your body or genetics. if you don’t eat meat or only eat red or white meat for any reason, let your doctor/pcp know so you can figure out if you need supplements.

when it comes to fruit and vegetables i get a wide variety since they’re easiest for me to put more of while i cook, so i honestly haven’t checked out what vegetables i SHOULD be targeting. however, when i buy fruit i aim for things high in fiber to help me hit my fiber goal (like oranges!) or i buy fruit that helps with anti-inflammatory stuff. i don’t remember what about the fruit/berries helps but i aim for blueberries and pomegranates. pomegranates really aren’t messy if you open them in a bowl or strainer under running water, and they can be as low as $1 some places for maybe 1/3 cup of seeds? not bad!

but anyways, that’s pretty much all i know so far. becoming informed about what your body needs can open up a lot of new dietary options for you that are still affordable. getting a balanced and nutritious meal should be more accessible but just like senshi we can help, encourage, and educate ourselves and our friends to build a better community. let’s figure out the right path to affordable and sustainable health, together!!

love, senshi’s #1 fan

[sahbibabe]

Ignoring The Obvious

Soulmate AU

Sephiroth/Fem! Reader

Part Eleven

Your hospital stay is short. Your training commences. Reno has serious problems with being... well, helpful. Or encouraging. Especially with a giant Shinra dog chasing you through vents.

THE BED WAS HARD, YOUR knees were killing you, your abdomen was on fire, and the nurse was steadily refusing to give you morphine no matter how much you begged. You had spent the better part of two days as high as a kite, blissfully unaware of the train wreck of memories about to hit you the moment you were weaned off of your medication. The file─your unfiltered, raw test subject notes and classifications─sat innocently on the nightstand as if it was completely separate from the emotional turmoil you were facing.

       It would be easy, so easy to slip into the mercenary's mindset and ignore the pain. To shove the emotions aside and bury them so deep you didn't even have to acknowledge their existence. All you had to do was will them away, and they would be gone. But that was unhealthy and the moment you did that, all of your progress would be ruined forever and you would start from scratch once more.

      But did it really matter? You asked yourself the same question over and over again as you watched the Chocobo documentary on the one-channel television network. You would be going back to that life anyways, with that same mindset and habits, without anyone to stop you from doing otherwise. You would be killing people for Rufus Shinra in the name of eliminating competition; a petty game was what it all came down to.

        And you were the knight who guarded the King.

       You looked away from the television to your food. It was plain hospital food, rich in protein to help you replace all of the blood you had supposedly lost while you fought the doctor tooth and nail when he tried to get a needle in your arm for an IV. Reno had laughed when he told you about the resident's injuries, but it only made you feel sick to your stomach when the nurses had to strap you down like a wild animal.

      Other than Reno, your only other visitor was Rude, and he had been thoughtful enough to bring you a bouquet of real flowers. He wouldn't say where he had gotten them from when you asked, just sat in silence, so you asked him instead how Hojo was doing with that stab wound, as smug as you might have sounded.

       "You didn't stab Hojo," Rude told you bluntly, a slight hint of confusion in his voice. Your smugness was wiped from your face. "You stabbed an assistant doctor who had come in to check your new vitals."

        "No," you had whispered,"no, that… That was Hojo. I remember it like it happened seconds ago…"

       "It doesn't matter. The doctor has been treated and compensated out of your salary. You'll be fifty thousand gil short."

     And that had been the end of that.

     Now, you picked at the cheap, plasticky roast beef on your plate and pushed your asparagus around in circles. You weren't getting anywhere without the alarms sounding on your bed, so you were effectively a prisoner until they turned them off. Add that to the iron they were slowly feeding into your IV and you felt like a rabbit confined in a small cage, pacing a few steps at a time.

       Out of the corner of your eye, sitting right beside the file you were desperately trying to avoid reading, sat the Book of Colors: a book that translated all of the different colors soulmates might see, their specific combinations, and surprisingly, origins.

       The strings felt snug against your fingers as you weighed your options, kneading your fingers into your palm. There was a lot you could learn about the authenticity of soulmate bonds through that book. People followed it like gospel, spoke of it as something holy. You had never had a reason to read it until now, or the money to, but now you had prime opportunity and the eyesight to help you do it.

      You picked up the book and pushed your lunch tray away from the bed.

       It was a hefty leather thing, dyed black and sewn with gold thread to display the title: The Book of Colors. One could easily take it for a children's book, but it was so much more than that. A quick glance at the spine showed it was the newest edition.

       The first page you opened it to described the various types of soulmate bonds, everywhere from bonds to the literal soul to telepathic communication. It depended heavily on the people bound to determine what kind of bonds they got. Cynical, unfair people walked around without color vision until they met their soulmate; quiet, shy people got telepathy; and people like you, a mercenary gone civilian, got strings.

       "Strings guide the lost home," you mumbled, tracing your finger over the plain description beneath the header,"and return hearts to where they belong."

       One of the authors theorized heavily that strings meant involvement with the lifestream personally, or some kind of way to identify past soulmates with one another.

       "It's a very unique thing, the strings," the author wrote,"just like anyone else's, but this means that the two souls have already connected before in the past. Eons or two hundred years ago, who can say?"

      You skimmed over the rest and flipped over to the colors, the part you had been dreading and also curiously dying to read. There were sections to different soulmate types, some colors meaning different things, so you found your section and settled down in your springy hospital bed.

       "Identify the weave of your strings," the book told you. It offered a small chart of different weave types. "You may have two types or you may have four. Find yours and look at the pairing chart to determine the intent of your bond."

       That was easy enough. You shook the threads out and looked closely at their weave; there was a single double braid, what looked like a dutch braid, and an elaborately woven pattern that repeated halfway through the string on each one.

       "The double braid signifies a union between two people," you read, following the lines with your finger. "If there is a child born from that union, two becomes three on this specific line."

        You didn't have a third thread, like you expected, so you moved on.

      "The dutch braid signifies a match with power and darkness. Don't worry yourself, though! Darkness can be equated to many things, such as self conflict, a trouble within the body, or even a mental disconnection from stress."

      Sephiroth didn't seem to be mentally disconnected, but you didn't even know him that well. You messed with the threads for a few moments, stuck on that phrasing, before finding the last section where the more elaborate braids were.

       "This gorgeous flower patterned weave means that you have reunited with your soulmate several times in various past lives. Much like additional colors to the vision discussed in the previous soulmate identification, the different petals on it connote just how many times you have been with your soulmate in past lives. Count them! How many do you have?"

         You raised an eyebrow and counted the individual petals. One, two, three, four, five, six, and… just burgeoning on the final petal, weaving itself before your eyes, was seven.

         But there wasn't a number for that─there wasn't even a color combination or weave combination for the mess around your hand. You checked several times, but to no avail; no one had ever had gold, purple, and green and black threads.

       You slammed the book shut and tossed it back on the nightstand just as the door handle turned and popped open. Reno sauntered past the threshold and made himself at home in the guest chair, eating popcorn and humming an odd tune.

       "So, how's the chocobo documentary doing?" His eyes sparkled with mirth. "Making you bored yet?"

       "Sure. If you count restlessness as bored." You crossed your arms and fixed him with a hard stare. "When can I get out and do my job?"

        "In an hour." Reno threw a handful of popcorn in his mouth dismissively. "Doc says you're cleared to start training and work off that excessive energy you have."

        "Good." You ripped your blankets back and hopped out of the bed. The floor was still cold beneath the cheap socks the hospital had given you. The world swam around you for a moment and you steadied yourself against the nightstand. "Good. That means I didn't pass the exam?"

        Reno shrugged. "You never finished it. Tseng pulled some strings. As long as you pass training you should be fine."

       "Why do you sound like you doubt me?"

       "You'll find out in… oh, about an hour."

      And oh, find out you did.

      "Reno, I'm going to murder you for this."

       Sweat traced rivers down your face as you shimmied your way through the ventilation system of the training barracks, a guard dog snapping at your heels. He didn't answer over the comms system, but you knew he had to be laughing at you somehow.

       "Shit," you yelped, feeling the dog's teeth sink down into your shoe. You kicked back on reflex and it cried out, releasing you instantly. You moved a little faster, relieved at the sight of a vent, and slammed your elbow down on the grate. It didn't budge and there was a very pissed off hound breathing down your neck. "Oh, fuck me."

       "Keep on moving, [Name]!" Reno chortled. You scowled and got on your knees, moving as fast as you could given the cramped space. "Three minutes left!"

        "You and your three minutes can go to hell!"

       "Yeah, but then who would sic hounds on you then? You'd fail your training no problem."

      "Reno," you growled, shoving your fingers into another grate just ahead and pushing down hard. It swung open. The dog got closer. "I'm going to kick your ass."

       "Get out of the vents and then we can talk!"

        You dropped neatly onto a bench, the leatherwork groaning beneath your feet. You hopped off and opened the door right as the dog dropped out behind you, hightailing it down the hall at full speed.

        "Gotta take out the dog, too, [Name]!" Reno reminded you.

        Feet skidding into the marble floor, you whirled around, cursing Reno for his snarky reminders and tackled the dog head on. It flailed as you wrapped your arms around its neck and cut off its breathing, barely keeping purchase by pinning your knees to the over muscled thighs. It growled and tried to bite you, the struggle slowing second by second, until it flopped down on the floor, tongue hanging.

         Unconcious, but not dead.

      You reclined back on your haunches with a sigh, wiping sweat from your forehead, and when you opened your eyes, you found the full brunt of Reeve Tuesti's gaze staring you down.

       Your hand dropped from your forehead. Not even your labored breathing helped you forget that you had somehow ended up in a completely different building than Reno had told you to go to.

       "Damnit."

[softpunks]

we can fly / jason todd-centric / 3.8k / for jason todd birthday week

“I told you this was stupid.” Jason tells Dick.

“Shut up.” says Dick miserably.

Damian glances at him. “You look stupid, Todd.”

Jason sniffles. “You think I don’t know that?”

AKA: 16 prompts for jason todd’s birthday. 

read it either on the ao3 link above or keep reading

i. — first

The stars are dazzling from this view. This is Jason’s first thought. 

Tim, who is the sibling that ends up riding the ferris wheel with Jason since the only one really willing to ride with Damian is Dick, notices the look of amazement on the older’s face. “Have you ever been here before?” he asks. 

“No.” Jason admits. Entering cost money, and though it was relatively easy to sneak in, it was a bit disheartening to see families and friends enjoy themselves and carelessly spend their pocket change on snacks and games when you were a hungry orphan who didn’t have any of those. Back then, Jason would make sure to not even look twice at the rides, because that would only sour his mood more. “Not if you count loitering outside.” 

“So this is your first time.”

Jason can’t help but bristle, even though Tim doesn’t mean anything bad with his comment. He’s just stating a fact. “So?”

They’re here for Damian, really, because Dick said he lacked a proper childhood — they all did, to some extent, but somehow, none of them turned out as aloof and arrogant as Damian, so — and didn’t know anything about the joy of carnivals and theme parks. From there, it isn’t difficult to see Dick’s logic: exposing Damian to relatively happy things should make Damian a happy kid. 

(Jason did not have to be as smart as Tim or Barbara to know this way of thinking was entirely bullshit, but he also didn’t have the heart to argue with Dick.)

Jason’s never actually been to a carnival or theme park either, since he never thought it was a big enough deal to ask Bruce to visit these places back in the early stages of being his ward and being a lot more childlike and demanding. But he hadn’t wanted the entire visit to be about him because that meant he cared about those kinds of things— and he didn’t, it was just something interesting — so he didn’t say anything. Still, with Damian currently not in the picture and generally not for Jason to worry about, he could pretend like the night at the carnival was meant for him and enjoy it to the fullest, admiring the new sights and experiences with the wonder he could never afford as a kid. 

Tim just shrugs, unaffected by Jason’s attitude. “It’s nice, right.” 

“Sure.” Jason says flippantly, leaning back and crossing his arms. He doesn’t want to admit Tim’s right, and that it’s more than just nice. It’s goddamn beautiful. He’s seen the sky from rooftops when he’d patrol, so it’s definitely not the matter of height, but seeing it from here still feels a lot different. Jason can’t exactly describe it, but he’d like to think that it’s because it’s not often they have times like these, where they get to act like normal people and appreciate the mundane things in their lives when so much other outworldly things occur. Like a reminder that this is why Jason fights crime, besides looking after and protecting those who can’t save themselves. To have moments like these that they can enjoy to the fullest because they’re safe and they’re alive. 

“We’ll come back here.” Tim continues, like a promise even though Jason hadn’t even asked. “We’ll take Bruce with us, next time. And Alfred.”

“Like I care if Bruce is with us.” Jason replies, but it’s half-hearted, because he’s still staring at the bright-lit sky. 

From the side, Tim smiles fondly at his older brother. 

ii. — healing

“Meditation,” starts Talia. “Is an essential part of the healing process.”

“But I’m fully healed, you know.” Jason whines. “I don’t need this kind of crap.”

Talia glances at him sharply and kicks him firmly at his side. Jason yowls in pain and cradles his abdomen. “What was that for?” he demands. “I’m injured!”

“Hmph,” Talia huffs. “I thought you said you were already healed.” Jason just pouts. Talia does not look amused. “This is healing for your mental state. Not your physical one.”

“Whatever.” he grumbles, because it isn’t as if he has brain damage anymore. But Talia clearly isn’t going to budge, and he doesn’t think they’re getting out of this strange zen-like garden in the middle of nowhere anytime soon unless he follows her. 

She closes her eyes and returns to her earlier pose. “Now, let’s continue.”

iii. — unconventional

It's a loose but also the most accurate term they have for it— for their relationship that involves Renee Montoya occasionally running into this Crime Alley kid she caught one night trying to steal Batman's tires. She has the savings to take him in as her own and provide for him, and considers doing it by the fifth time they've met and got to know him better, but every time she'd offer, he'd take off, like the thought of trusting his life to an adult's hands scares him more than anything. Regardless, he always comes back to their meeting place at Gotham Park every Sunday evening. Renee is disappointed, but as Kate constantly reminds her, being a cop doesn't mean you can save everyone, and just because people may need saving doesn't mean they necessarily want it. 

"He's a kid." Renee argues. "Like, ten."

"Then maybe he's testing how long you'll be willing to stick around with him and keep that offer." Kate says. "Maybe he'll come to you when he's ready."

Renee listens to her girlfriend and waits, but that time never comes. It doesn't mean they stop their weekly run-ins, or that she doesn't give him anymore life advice when he voices out his problems. It doesn't mean she retracts her offer because it's been years or she stops paying for his school supplies when he finally admits to her that he decided to go to school so he could get a job and get out of the slums. It just means he isn't officially hers to keep and call her own kid. 

But when he wears her brown leather jacket and says he looks just like her, it feels a lot like that anyway, and she can live with that. 

iv. — open

“I can’t open it.” Damian admits sullenly. The unintentional pout on his face makes Dick coo and Tim look away because it looks embarrassing. It makes Damian angry, of course, but there are currently more important matters to deal with.

Jason simply laughs loudly, clearly amused, takes the jar from Damian’s hands, and twists it open easily. 

v. — grip

Alfred’s grip is so tight on Jason’s clothes that it's enough to rip his worn-out but well-loved clothes off and tear through them with ease. He almost thinks that the butler is angry, for whatever reason, but when Alfred looks up, there is nothing but pride and sorrow in his eyes. 

“How you’ve grown, Master Jason.” he says. “It was as if it was only yesterday when Master Bruce took you home and said you were going to be staying with us.”

Jason’s gaze can’t help but soften. It’s just college, but somehow, Alfred makes it sound like it’s so much more than just that. “I promise I’ll visit.”

Alfred nods before reluctantly letting him go. “I should hope so. As much as Master Duke tries, he’s not as good at helping around in the kitchen as you are.”

“I’ll tell him you said that, you know.” Jason teases. “You’ll break his heart.”

“Just as you’re breaking mine?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” he says, but the reprimand is half-hearted. He beams at the butler. “I’ll be going now. Take care, okay?”

“You too, Master Jason.” 

vi. — siblings

He grew up an only child, so he doesn't know exactly what siblings are supposed to be like. The headlines have said they were always a strange bunch, and given their respective secrets, Jason is inclined to agree. 

Still, he takes his biweekly trip to the Manor and sees Damian angrily chasing Stephanie down with a water hose around the garden, both their faces and clothes dirty with paint. Dick and Cass are sitting right outside the porch, eating popcorn as they watch the entire scene unfold like they're viewing the best movie of the year; Duke can be seen through the window, looking mildly exasperated as Alfred beckons him with a gesture to focus on whatever task they're doing inside the house. 

Tim opens the front door and steps out with a tablet in one hand and a mug likely full of coffee in the other. He looks down at Dick and Cass before gazing straight ahead, where Stephanie and Damian have finally stopped running and have resulted to downright wrestling in front of everyone. "I don't want to know." He says loudly, immediately retreating back into the Manor when he sees the mess outside. Cass and Dick share a look before going back to Steph and Damian. 

Jason may not know what siblings are supposed to be like, but these are what his are like. And though the press may call them strange, this is probably the most normal Jason's ever going to get.

vii. — resurrection

Resurrection is a fickle thing. Or maybe that's just because there are only a few ways to go about it. When Jason died, Bruce mourned him terribly, but never thought about bringing him back. The same way he never thought of bringing his parents back.

Somehow, Jason returned anyway. In the end, Bruce realizes that it's pointless to sweat the details of it— or at least, too much of it — because all that matters is that his son is alive, and he's okay. Sort of. 

But resurrection doesn't solve everything. Not their strained relationship because he refuses to kill the Joker, not those moments when Jason would just shut down without warning and wouldn't respond to anything until he's taken back to his old room in the Manor and looked after by Alfred for a night or two, because Jason's always been attached to him. 

Not the white paper with the doctor's signature that confirms that his son only has five months to live. 

Jason isn't dead— not yet, anyway, but Bruce mourns like already is, and it drives their entire family insane. He wants to leave to find a cure, because for someone as pragmatic as he is, he's also always been good at denial.

"Don't." Dick says, gripping him hard on the shoulder. "Jay doesn't need a Batman right now; he needs a Bruce. He needs his father. You might as well start acting like one now."

Bruce relents. He sits by Jason's bedside and reads him lines from his favorite classical books — the original copies he used to treasure before Ethiopia, because Alfred and Bruce both value sentimentality — as if Jason was still a kid and needed bedtime stories to go to sleep. 

One night, Jason, who pretends not to be bedridden most days because he's always been a proud boy, stops him mid-reading. "You know," he says. "Moments like this make me glad I came back." 

And you'll stay. Bruce wants to say, because the only time he'll ever let himself be naively hopeful is when it's for the sake of his children. Resurrection may not solve everything, but at least it gave him this. 

Instead of talking, Bruce reaches out and holds Jason's hand. 

viii. — protect

“Why the hell are you protecting me?” Tim snaps, and Jason would’ve taken the venom in the younger’s voice a lot more seriously if not for the fact that he was clutching onto his bleeding harm and sprawled on the floor like a wounded animal. “I thought you hated me!”

“That was yesterday.” Jason replies easily, surveying their surroundings. They’re surrounded by around twenty men, but he can take them. “I’m in a better mood now.”

ix. — touch

Though Dick is the most physically affectionate one, Cass communicates with people through touch. Jason is naturally averse to that sort of thing, growing up in Crime Alley where it meant that being touched meant you were in trouble, but she’s his first sister, and he has an undeniable soft spot for her the way the rest of them do. So when she pulls him back to ask something because she’s always spoken softly and doesn’t plan on changing that, he lets her; when she pats him on the head like she’s the older sister even though he’s pretty sure they’re around the same age, he doesn’t protest. 

When she wants a hug, he lets himself melt into her embrace supposedly more for her sake, but actually for his own too. Dick will definitely throw a tantrum later on, but right now, he’s too busy enjoying the warmth only Cass can give. 

x. — another

“Another one for the boy right here.” the man tells the bartender. Jason smiles sweetly at the tattooed woman before turning to the man beside him. Though the forty year old is dressed plainly, there are hints of his wealth scattered around him in the most subtle of ways— the Rolex watch, the gold ring, the manicured nails, the neat way his hair is pressed back, the glasses Jason recognizes to be around triple the price of Tim’s. 

Jason shifts in his seat, thankful he’s already used to wearing fishnets and tight clothing. He hates these kinds of gigs, but it’s what puts money on the table, and Dick says that the deadline for the payment for Damian’s tuition is next week. The cash Jason can nab from this guy should be enough to cover the expenses for that, so Dick’s bodyguard job can pay for their rent instead. 

“Thanks.” Jason says gratefully, when the lady returns and gives him his drink. It burns his throat and he doesn’t like the feeling, but he knows he’ll need this to get through the night. Even if he has to deal with Dick’s incessant scolding because alcohol is a bad vice they can’t afford.

(“Where’d you get all this?” Tim asks later on, eyes wide as he stares at the wads of cash Jason dumps on the dining table the next morning. Damian already left for school, Dick accompanying him as always even though Damian is perfectly capable of going on his own by now. Cass hasn’t left her room, knocked out from returning just a few hours ago from her job at the gym. 

“Oh, you know,” Jason shuts the cupboard with the cereal box in his hand. “I got another job.”)

xi. — hour

It takes an hour of radio silence before Jason grows concerned. “You’ve been gone for quite a while, red.” he says through the comm. “You sure you’re alright? Your boyfriend will never forgive me if I let something bad happen to you.”

“Relax.” Barbara finally says after a few moments, and Jason crushes down the urge to let out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t know you were such a worrywart.”

Immediately, he scowls, even if she can’t see it. “Fuck you. Am not.”

Barbara laughs, but it’s immediately cut off by Bruce’s stern voice leaking through their earpieces. “Break it off, you two. We have a mission to complete.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Jason and Barbara chime in unison, though they’re both snickering.

xii. — time

There isn’t enough time, he thinks, as he stares at the bomb going down second by second in the horror. The doors won’t open, and he hears his mother sobbing. He wishes he had the voice to scream, to comfort her, sit back and make the most out of these last moments he has thinking of all the goodbyes he hadn’t said and all the things he shouldn’t have done. 

But the only thing circling in his head is, there isn’t enough time. There isn’t enough time. 

Bruce might not make it in time. 

xiii. — morning

Jason’s favorite time of day has always been the morning, because it reminds him of the times when he’d catch his mother whistling a happy tune as she waters the plants in their tiny backyard, of his father listening to the radio on the kitchen counter. Eventually, Jason learned to appreciate it for the smell of Tim’s coffee drifting from the dining area to the hallways, the careless padding of Bruce’s footsteps when he’s just woken up and is too groggy to be conscious of his loud movements; the way Dick decides to do his morning stretches right outside the kitchen and how Damian carries around all his pets’ food and meticulously puts them into their respective bowls, while Cass urges Duke to go on a morning jog around the garden before settling down for food. 

Besides, Alfred always cooks breakfast best when there’s someone awake enough to enjoy it, and maybe that’s why he likes mornings the most. 

xiv. — believe

“There is no way the brat is going to believe this.” Jason states, giving Dick a dirty look. “He’s been trained by the League of Assassins and by Bruce.”

“Oh, c’mon, little wing! Damian’s eleven. Kids like those believe anything!” Dick insists. Jason helplessly shoots Tim a look. 

Tim shrugs. “This was Dick’s idea, not mine.”

“Yeah, clearly, because no one would think of something this ridiculous.” Jason rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you do it? You’re the one who actually gives a shit about that kid.”

“He’s right.” Tim agrees, voice slowly fading as he leaves the cave, not wanting to be involved with Dick’s plan anymore. 

Dick crosses his arms. “Because Damian already thinks I’m the jolly guy himself. I need him to believe we’re two different people, so I definitely can’t be in the costume.” The thing is, Jason doesn’t even have the build needed to pull this kind of shit off. Not to mention that it’s, well, stupid. “If you do this, it’ll totally make up for you trying to kill Damian before.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t he be giving me that kind of forgiveness instead of you?” But Dick is pulling the biggest puppy dog eyes he’s ever mustered in his entire life, and while Jason really wouldn’t fall for that, the sight is disgusting enough to make him relent, so it probably doesn’t matter. “Fine. But I don’t owe any of you jackshit for the rest of my life.” 

“You don’t even give us presents!”

—

The plan to make Damian believe in Santa Claus fails spectacularly, of course. Even if Jason did put on the fake belly, he just doesn’t have the Santa Claus vibe, despite having the bulky build for it — because of the muscles, not the fat; Jason will skewer anyone without hesitation if anyone tries insulting him — and Damian is too pessimistic to believe in an old man who loves children with the ability to tell whether they’ve been good or bad and sneak into their houses to give them presents. Damian would rather much stick to his belief that Dick leaves him anonymous gifts under the Christmas tree that somehow always end up being the best things he’s ever gotten. 

“Santa Claus sounds like a pedophile, Grayson.” Damian says. “Why would anyone want to believe in someone as vile as that?”

Jason has to hand it to the kid; he easily beats Jason in ruining any situation. Dick unconsciously flinches, while Tim looks like he has to agree with Damian’s point, no matter how much he also looks like doing so would result in him vomiting in the bathroom. Cass and Duke are ignoring the entire exchange, mostly for Jason’s sake, since he’s still dressed in the ridiculous Santa Claus getup, and way more focused on opening their own presents despite how Bruce told them to wait until tomorrow. 

“I told you this was stupid.” Jason tells Dick. 

“Shut up.” says Dick miserably. 

Damian glances at him. “You look stupid, Todd.”

Jason sniffles. “You think I don’t know that?” He shrugs off the thick red coat before setting the pointed hat on top of Dick’s head and sauntering off. “Christmas is a capitalist movement anyway. You shouldn’t follow it.”

“Jay!” Dick protests. 

Jason says that, but on Christmas Day itself, there’s a gift for each of them under the tree.

(“I thought you didn’t believe in Christmas.” Damian points out after Christmas dinner. 

“Well, I don’t believe that middle-aged men who live in basements and dress in all black can actually save people, but here we are anyway.” is Jason’s only reply to that.)

xv. — over

Jason has nights when he forgets it's already over—the warehouse, the crowbar, the laughter, the bomb — because there will be times when it's the only thing that runs through his head when he dreams. It's likely Fate's design that the nightmares are always at their most frequent whenever the anniversary of his death inches near, so Jason makes it a point to never sleep during that week. Or at least make himself tired enough to just black out so he can't dream. 

"You look like you could use a drink," Roy comments, turning to him and handing him a bottle. "It's on the house."

Jason snorts. "Your boss is gonna kill you for this." 

"Eh." Roy shrugs. "Figured we deserved it. Yesterday's mission was a shitstorm." Jason can't help but hum in agreement to that.

"Well," Roy pours the both of them and glass and raises one in a faux-toast. "At least it's over, right?"

"Yeah," Jason says quietly, glancing at the clock. A few minutes to midnight, and then it'll be the day of his death. The tick of the clock faintly reminds him of the tick of the time bomb, but there is no awaiting explosion here and no death lurking the halls in the quietness of this bar in Star City. Jason's safe and alive. "It's over."

xvi. — robin

"That's a stupid name." Jason states, eyeing the uniform in his hands with distaste. "Robin?"

"It's what Dick chose to use." Bruce simply says. Jason can't help but frown. He doesn't really like it when Bruce talks about Dick, even though he is the first son, because Bruce always tries to hide how sad he really is at the thought of Dick and fails at it. Jason doesn't really understand, not when he's here, the new son, but despite the look on Dick's face when Bruce introduced him to Jason that screamed replacement, he isn't that, really. Or rather, he can't be. Dick is the golden circus boy with jolly laughter; Jason is the dirty street rat with good survival instincts. They're different, so of course things won't be the same. Or at least the same that Bruce unconsciously wants. But that doesn't mean Jason won't make it worthwhile. For both him and Bruce. "You could always pick a new one, if you want."

"Nah." Jason says. Bruce looks at him, and there's a newfound determination in his eyes. "I'll keep it."

"Yeah?" Bruce raises an eyebrow. "What changed your mind?"

"I'm gonna be the better Robin." Jason declares confidently, grinning up at Bruce. "I'll be so good you'll stop moping about the first one. Just you wait."

[ladywritesthings]

L-O-V-E (Was Made For Me And You)

AO3

happy valentine’s day

i.   (l is for the way you look at me)

She was 15, and she knew Adrien was coming before he even walked in the door. It was as if something in the air changed somehow when he was near.

(Perhaps her year-long crush was turning into a stalkerish obsession, as Alya teased her it might — or perhaps she knew his mannerisms so thoroughly that some deep, subconscious part of her simply knew, and felt him through the fabric of time and space.)

(Either way, a warmth that started in her chest and flooded outward to the very tips of her toes began to fill her whenever he was around. It was very seldom wrong.)

Her eyes flicked up in anticipation several seconds before he actually appeared, and when he did, a soft sigh escaped her, like her very soul had been holding its breath for him. Alya kicked her lovingly in the ankle.

“Put your eyes back in,” she whispered, not unkindly. “Or at least buy him dinner first.” Marinette would have blushed if she’d been paying attention.

Adrien murmured greetings at their fellow classmates as he drifted past, oblivious to his own perfection, to her silent admiration, and when he slid into place in front he turned around in his seat. “Hey, Alya,” he said, and she waved in return. His gaze flitted to Marinette and summer green met ice blue. “Good morning, Marinette.” He smiled warmly.

Ice turned to a cloudless April sky with that smile.

ii.    (o is for the only one i see)

He was 16, and he’d never so much as glanced at another girl since she came into his life.

Ladybug raced beside him, and then in front of him, so light on her feet she seemed to be flying, and there was nothing he could do but marvel at her grace.

She bounded lithely over gutters and chimneys, and there was never a time in his life when he felt more at home than in moments like these. He liked to think she felt the same — how could she not? She was a queen here, a goddess, and this was her kingdom. This was her domain. Their domain.

(Late at night, after they’d said their goodbyes and he was alone, if he couldn’t sleep for thinking of her, he’d fill his screens with pictures of his Lady and simply sit there, surrounded by her smile.)

(He was often up quite late.)

And if she ever saw fit to crown him king, then, well, wouldn’t that be wonderful?

She glanced back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight, with flushed cheeks and hair flying. “Am I too fast for you, kitty?” she smirked at him.

A slow grin spread across his face. “You wish, Bug.”

She winked. “Prove it,” she challenged, and vaulted into the sky.

He followed.

iii.   (v is very very extraordinary)

They were 17, and he couldn’t believe his stupid, perfect luck when he was caught out in the open with an Akuma and nowhere to change.

He looked around frantically for somewhere, anywhere, a dumpster would be better than being cornered like an idiot — and then suddenly, miraculously, she was there, and she caught him in her arms and scooped him up like it was nothing and spirited him away in the nick of time.

(He hoped she didn’t notice he clung to her a little tighter than necessary.)

“Are you alright?” she asked when they could safely stop, her voice laced with concern.

(He was now.)

“I am now,” he said, and immediately bit his tongue. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

“O-oh,” she stuttered after a pause. Was she blushing? His heart picked up pace. She hadn’t let go of his waist yet, and he savored her touch.

A crash sounded and suddenly she was all business again, breaking the eye contact he hadn’t realized they were holding, and after a hasty goodbye she was off.

He stood there, mourning the loss of her warmth, watching her until she was out of sight before he ducked into an alley to change. His heartrate didn’t slow until he saw her again.

iv.    (e is even more than anyone that you adore)

They were 18, and once again she crowed in triumph as her mecha crushed his for the 12th time in a row. He groaned, slumping back into his seat. “Not fair,” he whined, dropping his controller into his lap. “You don’t have to play in gloves.”

“It’s a poor workman who blames his tools,” she quoted primly at him, stifling a snicker at his pouting lower lip.

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Did I mention they have claws?”

(He’d shown up on her balcony one night, and somehow they ended up talking and laughing nearly until dawn. She’d thought it an odd, if pleasant, aberration, but not one that was likely to repeat itself — until he showed up again two nights later. And a week later, again. And again. He just kept coming back.)

“You’re just salty because you can’t admit I’m the better player,” she laughed, tossing popcorn at his face, which he caught deftly on his tongue.

“Not as salty as this popcorn,” he said, gagging. “My God, woman, have you heard of a little thing called moderation?”

(For some reason, she let him.)

She grinned at him. “If it’s so terrible, then why are you still eating it?”

“Hey, snacks are snacks,” he said thickly. Broken kernels dusted his lips.

She reached out, laughing, to brush them off — realizing half a moment too late that her fingers were touching his lips, and gosh their faces were awfully close now. A heartbeat that felt like an eternity passed as their breath mingled, and blazing green met frozen blue.

“…Another round?” he asked suddenly, his voice cracking only slightly.

She snapped to attention. “S-sure,” she squeaked. They didn’t look at each other for the next three matches.

He left soon after.

v.    (two in love can make it)

When they were 19, an Akuma attacked. And then another, and another. Queen Bee, Rena Rouge, Carapace — they did their best, but Chat Noir and his Lady were cornered, and there was only so much to be done before their kwamis had to recharge.

Ladybug did her best to evaluate the situation, but there was no easy way out of this one. Not this time. Her Lucky Charm had failed and Chat had used his second Cataclysm of the night. They had mere minutes to fix it. Or try again, and start all over.

She couldn’t decide quickly enough.

So Chat did it for her.

Before she knew what was happening, his hand was around her wrist and she was spinning, running, stumbling after him as he sprinted up and around, until suddenly there was a door and they were through and he slammed it shut behind them.

“Chat,” she panted, “Chat, we can’t stay here.”

“There’s no time,” he said.

“But Chat — my Miraculous…” As if in answer, it beeped loudly, desperately in her ears. “We need to regroup, recharge, plan…”

“Ladybug,” he said softly, meeting her eyes. “There’s no time.”

And suddenly she understood.

Her hands shot up to her earrings as her eyes widened and her weak legs, trembling from exertion, finally gave out beneath her and she fell to her knees. Her pulse was pounding still, but now it was nerves, no, fear that made her heartbeats trip over themselves.

(no we can’t it’s too soon i’ve been hiding for so long it’s not safe what if i disappoint him i can’t do this there’s no time there’s no time)

He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his, gently, carefully, lovingly. “I’m scared too, my Lady,” he whispered, and soft green met terrified blue. “Just hold my hand. It’ll be okay.”

(it’ll be okay)

Their fingers laced together and suddenly it was okay, maybe.

Mingled pink and green light engulfed them both.

vi.   (take my heart and please don’t break it)

When they emerged to the fight once more, a fight their friends had kept admirably in check in their absence, the Akumas were dispatched without much trouble.

(Perhaps it was the old adage “Third time’s the charm” at work, perhaps it was just luck or persistence or a combination, but Chat liked to think it was because they finally, truly knew who they were fighting for.)

When it was over, he looked to her for their time-honored fist bump, but her arms were at her sides and when she met his eyes she looked away, quickly. “Good job,” he offered weakly. She only blinked slowly at him, wavering in response.

Rena Rouge glanced between them. “Are you… okay?” she asked Ladybug quietly, concernedly.

Ladybug jerked to attention. “I have to go,” she said, and her voice was full of emotion, although of what emotion Chat couldn’t quite tell.

(His heart cracked slightly under the weight of it.)

“Ladybug…” he began, reaching for her, but her yo-yo was out and spinning before black could touch red.

Her eyes, wide and glistening, flicked over him. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and was gone.

Carapace and Queen Bee exchanged glances. “Okay, what happened back there with you two?” Queen Bee asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

Chat didn’t know how to answer that question.

vii.   (and love was made for me and you)

He found her sitting alone, on a non-descript rooftop in the middle of Paris. It was night now, and the stars were out in full force. She was staring at them when he took his place beside her.

“I didn’t mean to run away,” she said after a long silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t want to do that.”

“You did what you thought was right.” A pause. “You were right. We didn’t have the time to do anything else.”

They stared at the stars in silence for a while, the night air cool and heavy between them.

“Do you regret it?” he asked finally, painfully, and she turned to look at him for the first time, her soft pink lips parted in surprise.

“Of course not,” she said, with such conviction he couldn’t help but laugh. “What — why are you laughing?” she demanded, brow now furrowing.

“It’s just, well, you could have fooled me.” She shrank slightly and that sobered him up quickly. “Bug — M-Marinette, I…” He stumbled over her name, fumbling for the words. “I just… I’m — I’m really glad that it’s you.”

Her eyes widened, just a fraction, and then her frame was engulfed in a glorious pink light and suddenly Ladybug was Marinette again, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and soft and the most perfect shade of blue. She was blushing when she said, “I’m really glad it’s you too.”

He released his own transformation and when the green light had faded he was Adrien again, in his overpriced jeans and designer t-shirt, sitting perilously close to the edge of a rooftop with a girl whose face he thought he’d never see, but which he’d seen for the better part of five years anyway.

Marinette looked away first, gazing back into the sky as he instead studied her profile breathlessly, like it was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, which in a way, it sort of was.

(Her fingers were so close to his; if he moved them just an inch he could touch her…)

(Who knew Ladybug had freckles — and not just freckles, but constellations etched onto her skin?)

“I’ve loved you since I was 15, you know,” she said finally, and though her voice wavered as she said it her gaze was steady as electrified blue met startled green.

It was as if time slowed in that moment, the world going quiet as his heart hammered in his chest, butterflies swirling in his gut as his mouth ran dry. His hand inched toward her.

“That’s a shame,” he croaked, and for a split second her expression fractured only to be replaced by confusion as his fingers finally, achingly laced with hers. He leaned in close as he swallowed.

“I’ve loved you since I was 14.”

His mouth muffled her surprised laugh and the kiss was like a promise, slow and sweet and full of hope, a culmination of every moment they’d ever shared, and anticipation of every moment after.

(He promised to never let her go.)

(She promised to never let him.)

[unashamed-shipper]

Playing for Keeps

Rugby!Natsu commission for @hellojawsie! Thank you so much for being so patient, Katie! You are so kind ^^

pairing: nalu, mentions of gajevy

characters: natsu, lucy, levy, mentions of gajeel

word count: 2,015

type: fluffy fluff

Lucy knew next to nothing about rugby. She knew that people could get easily injured while playing the sport: their arms could get broken or their faces badly beaten. She even knew someone who had their foot in a cast after all the bones in their foot were crushed. If she was honest, she cared little about the sport.

But she cared so much about one person that played it.

Natsu Dragneel had been her one and only crush all throughout high school. She entered into class one day like normal, and during a boring lecture she peered out the window and saw him throwing around a ball with his teammates. His rose colored hair shone in the sunlight and stood out against the rest of the hues of brown and black, catching her attention right away. After he tossed the ball to a teammate, Natsu looked up and saw her staring at him. He waved and smiled, which stole her heart and further took her attention away from class.

From that moment on, Natsu knew that they were destined to be friends. Yelling a quick goodbye to his friends, he bounded up the steps and began to search for her classroom. After a few moments of hunting, he burst into the room and asked who the ‘weird blonde girl who was starin’ at me,’ was. Natsu’s green eyes stared into hers when the entire class turned and gaped at Lucy, and a grin spread across his face as he strode toward her quickly and stood above her with his fists on his hips.

“Weirdo,” he began, leaning over and picking her up out of her chair, “you’re comin’ with me.”

Slinging over his shoulder, Natsu marched out of the classroom as the teacher and Lucy’s classmates ogled the strange sight. Lucy pounded on his back with a shout, hoping to get someone’s attention.

“Where are we going?” she asked, and Natsu grinned.

“We’re playing hooky, Luce.”

“How the hell do you know my name?” Lucy was surprised, and even more shocked that he now had a nickname for her.

Not that she didn’t like it, though.

“Easy. Your homework had your name on it. You wanna go get ice cream?” he asked, and she sighed.

“I’m supposed to be learning, not eating desserts!” Lucy replied with a roll of her eyes. Was this guy completely insane?

“School is a drag, Luce. It’s the same thing every day, and you gotta switch it up every once in awhile! So how about it?”

She found herself considering it. He was rather attractive, and she thought going to ice cream was somewhat of a date. But skipping school for something as insignificant as ice cream? It was very unlike her. She wasn’t a straight-A student like her best friend, but she did want to get into college one day.

But what could one day hurt?

“I guess that’s fine. Let me down, please,” Lucy responded, and Natsu let her down.

“Awesome! I’m Natsu by the way. Natsu Dragneel. Nice to meet ya, Luce!” he smiled again, and her pulse raced.

Moments later they were at the ice cream shop. Lucy ordered a pistachio ice cream, which Natsu dubbed ‘disgusting’ as he piled on hot pepper flakes on his plain vanilla. Why the shop had pepper flakes as one of their toppings, Lucy would never know. As they sat down and began to eat, they began to realize that they were more suited for one another than they originally thought.

At least, Lucy hoped so.

The bell rang, shifting Lucy’s thoughts back to the present. She saw Natsu sleeping in the chair next to her, and with a smile she nudged him awake a few times before he awakened.

“Luce? What time is it?” Natsu asked, and Lucy giggled.

“Class just finished. Time for lunch,” she said, and Natsu practically hopped out of his chair despite being fast asleep moments before.

“Sweet!” he replied, getting ready to go out the door when he remembered something. Nervousness rushed through his body as he turned to Lucy with a smile.

“Uh, Luce?” he asked, “You’re gonna come to my game tonight, right?”

The corners of Lucy’s mouth turned up, and she peered into Natsu’s eyes. He wanted her to watch him play? This was a first. Usually he just assumed that she would be there, but Lucy guessed that today was different. Maybe there was something finally changing between them.

“Of course, Natsu. See you then.”

The game started right after school, and Lucy was more excited for Natsu than she ever had been. His team was facing off against a rival school’s, and she was also nervous for their victory as well. The other team was undefeated, and their school had a few losses itself. Their team was one of the best, but sometimes testosterone got in the way of playing the sport correctly.

Lucy blew into her gloved hands as she sat outside in the cold, waiting for the players to come out from their hideout. She wanted to be the first to see Natsu, and so she parked herself at the very first seat in the stadium. Checking her watch, she noticed that it was only mere moments until they would be out.

“Waiting to see Natsu, Lu?” Levy teased as she flopped down into the seat next to her best friend, and Lucy swiped at her arm with a grin.

“Shush, Lev. It’s not like you sat next to me so you could get a good look at Gajeel,” Lucy poked Levy’s cheek, and Levy batted it away with a palm.

“I sat next to you because you’re my best friend, not because I like that stupid oaf,” Levy said, grabbing her book bag and unzipping it to rummage around for a book.

“Sure you don’t. Why do I see you in the back of the class again?” Lucy contemplated, tapping her pointer finger on her chin with a smirk, “Oh, that’s right! Cause you get a ‘full view of the board’ when you sit back there.”

Levy blew a raspberry at Lucy, and Lucy grinned victoriously back at her companion. She knew when Levy was lying quicker than everyone else did, and it was obvious that Levy had a slight crush on the tall guy who always seemed to be messing with her. Lucy had known Levy since they were children, and never once had Levy felt that way about someone. It was a nice change of pace for the girl who always seemed to be ignoring everyone else with her nose in a book.

After a few moments, the players finally came out of their HQ and the stadium cheered when Natsu was announced. Lucy cheered the loudest, of course, but she couldn’t help but hear a few other feminine shouts screaming Natsu’s name. Jealousy boiled within her, but she decided to ignore it. After all, she was the one that he invited to go watch his game with him, right?

Natsu threw his arms up in the air and roared, showing off his dominance to the opposing team. It was his signature move, and Lucy thought it was quite cute. He had done that ever since his first game that he played, and Lucy was there to see it.

The game started within a minute, with the referee blowing his whistle. The ball was passed a few times, and a goal was made quickly by the opposing team. Boos were heard from the Magnolia side of things, and then the next play started.

Everything happened so fast that Lucy could barely even comprehend what was happening. Natsu grabbed the ball and was about to throw it to someone else when he was tackled by a much bigger player, and Natsu went down quicker than Lucy had ever seen. A collective gasp went throughout the crowd, and Lucy covered her hands with her mouth.

“Natsu!” she shouted after her shock had taken place, “No!”

Instantly an ambulance was on the field, and two guys carrying a stretcher wheeled out and pushed Natsu onto it. Lucy pushed through her fright and hustled down the steps to see her friend and crush being taken into the ambulance. The last thing she saw was Natsu’s eyes wandering to hers and then slowly shutting before she began running toward Levy.

“Lev?” Lucy asked, and Levy gathered up her things rapidly and held out a palm to Lucy to steady her. Sometimes the two would grasp palms when things got rough, and this was one of those times.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Lu. Let’s go.”

Lucy realized that when Levy told her that she would go as quickly as she could that she actually meant twenty miles over the speed limit. Lucy’s stress levels were already at a high point, but possibly getting pulled over by the cops almost sent her overboard. They got to the hospital within seven minutes flat, and Lucy vowed to never write with Levy in a crisis again.

“I’ll let you go. I’ll go see how the rest of the team is doing,” Levy said, and Lucy saluted before running off to Natsu’s room, which the receptionist said was 513. Bounding down the hallway and dodging a few nurses, Lucy was desperate to find him. When she finally saw the room, she tiptoed in and saw Natsu hooked up to a bunch of IV’s and machines. His leg was bound up and his face was bandaged.

“L-Luce?” Natsu asked after seeing her standing there, and Lucy gasped. His voice was raspy, and all she wanted to do was comfort him and fix it so she could take him home. They could spend time watching Netflix and eating popcorn and have a good night. Natsu didn’t deserve any of this.

“Hey. How are you doing?” she asked, and he grinned. It was the only Natsu-like thing about him at the moment.

“I wasn’t hurt that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal. That’s where my blood is supposed to be,” Natsu said, and Lucy smiled and shook her head.

“You really had me worried back there,” she said, and Natsu shrugged.

“Well, at least with this cast I look badass,” Natsu told her, lifting up his leg the tiniest bit. He winced at the pain, and Lucy’s eyebrows rose at his expression.

“Is--Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? You want some food?”

“Maybe later, Luce. There is something I want more than food.” Natsu said, and Lucy laughed.

“More than food? It must be pretty important then. Alright, what is it?” Lucy shook her head again, wondering what the heck he must want that would be more important than filling his belly.

“I want a kiss.”

Lucy’s blood turned to ice as her mouth dropped open. He wanted a what?!

“You-You want me to kiss you?” she asked, and he motioned her to come closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“More than anything in the world,” he whispered, and she shivered as his warm breath tickled her ear. Lucy smiled as she stared into his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her to him.

Their lips met softly at first, but slowly became much more intimate as it deepened. Lucy grasped Natsu’s locks as she pulled him flush to her, and Natsu held back the tiniest of moans when she carefully slid her tongue into his mouth.

They kissed for a few more moments before deciding to stop, and Natsu grinned wider than he had ever before when they broke away.

“Wow, Luce. I shoulda kissed you a long time ago,” he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

Lucy flushed, turning away. How long had he been waiting to kiss her like that?

“Nuh-uh,” Natsu said with a smirk, grasping her chin with his palm gently and turning her face toward his. “This is a game, Luce. And I’m playing for keeps.”

I hope you enjoyed! Make sure to check out Katie’s page cause she is a totally awesome friend and person in general ^^

Commissions are open, and I have two spots left for May!