#lumine: *steals one of his shirts & just exists*

[sunsbled-archive]

@solaoccasum​​    /    unprompted    /    lumine & basile

Basile's shirt swallows Lumine's frame but she can't help but feel warm and safe in it regardless. It's why she's been lounging around in it all day. She doesn't ever wanna take it off.

it’s not the weary sigh that announces his presence, he assumes, but rather the telltale squeak of the door   - he really ought to oil the hinges -    and the  clink of his sword unceremoniously being dropped at the side,       hitting the  shitty little vase he made a year ago  when  antoine  convinced  him  pottery  would be a fun hobby.         it wasn’t, but he keeps it anyways because it’s a  nice reminder of easier days. plus it’s nice to look at things and reminisce of those times when days like today happened. stressful, tiring and most of all draining. he’s frustrated, really. somehow it still surprised him that so many people had the audacity  to  not  only badmouth his friend but to also shove their workload his way simply because he offered a helping hand - and they decided to take his whole arm, figuratively at least. he’s not all that surprised to find the light in the room on, to see the lamp at the nightstand lit. it’s not as late but he assumes that lumine has decided to have a day of leisure. good.  she deserves a break more than anyone - plus he’d have complained about her not taking a break if she hadn’t, anyway - and he’s glad that she’s had a good day. at least he hopes. his eyes are shut close, frown burning his face while his hand tries to smooth a strand of his hair that sticks out like a sore  thumb. trying to look after some kids on the way back ended with him having to jump into a river to get one of them out after they’d been careless and he’s still dropping a few stray bits of water onto the floor beneath him. he offers a ‘ hey ’ and there’s a particular weight to his tone, like he’s holding back a sigh.

except the exhaustion on his face disappears the moment he opens his visible eye, greeted by the sight of his soulmate lounging about in his shirt. it doesn’t help that the lamps light casts and surrounds her like it wants to make sure he doesn’t forget just how beautiful she is. as if he’d ever do that. his mouth goes dry and he lets out a surprised noise, strangled as if he’s trying not to seem to joyful at the sight. it’s cute, really. she looks almost small in his shirt and it has  his chest swell  with  pride  knowing  that  he  isn’t  as tiny as the world makes  him feel sometimes. or as he felt whenever standing next to someone as huge as antoine.           he’s smiling - that dopey one he only gets when he’s entirely  content -   and  takes  a  few  steps  towards  the  little wardrobe near the bed,  easing himself  out  of his jacket and clothes until he’s left in his pants and the sleeveless shirt he wears under all those layers. and then he takes another two steps and lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, craning his head to look at lumine before he croons out a soft ❛ i like your new clothes. ❜  while stretching. the movement takes some strain off his spine,      which is probably for the best,  before he shifts himself to lay on his stomach, propping his head up with a hand so he can properly look  at  the  traveler with all that unfiltered love and affection  he has stored up in his heart,  doing sommersaults in his chest as if hearts were supposed to do that.              ❛ did you finally get your well deserved break? ❜ he queries with a hum,   his other hand coming up to seek out hers,   seeking the comforting warmth.  he fights the urge to shake his head to get rid off the remains of water on his head - he isn’t a dog, after all, even with the way he lays there and looks at her as if he was a puppy seeking attention -  and instead shuffles himself up the bed a little until he can rest his head against her. his face is resting down  on the mattress, fatigue taking over when he fights to stay awake.  rest can wait,  he’d much rather talk to his beloved for now.             his voice is muffled, though.

❛ ‘missed you the whole day. i also missed my shirt, good to know it’s here. ❜

[seijorhi]

Choke.

another soulmate au nobody asked for :)

Akaashi Keiji x female reader x Bokuto Koutarou

TW dub-con, implied future non-con

It wasn’t a good day to begin with.

You’re late, rushing through the busy campus hallways to make it to an exam that quite frankly you’re at least 70% sure you’re going to fail, mostly because instead of cramming last night you’d been… otherwise occupied with your boyfriend.

And you really, really just want this whole thing to just be over with already.

With your nose stuck in your textbook, frantically pouring over your notes right up until the very last second, it’s hardly a surprise that you don’t see the two of them rushing down the hallway in the opposite direction until you’re quite literally colliding with the taller of the pair – the broad shouldered one.

Your notes go flying, the last of your coffee too and for one split second, you’re pretty positive that you’re gonna end up flat on your ass with a little more than some bruised pride. But just as you’re about to hit the ground, not one but two hands reach for you, catch you, and the very second they do, you feel it:

A flash of guilt and momentary alarm, embarrassment, you think, and chagrin, each emotion hitting you like a sledgehammer, overwhelming you, one after the other in a dizzying blur that’s distinctly other, and then–

Shock.

Dawning surprise. 

A rush of something warm, adoring, a happiness so bright and blinding that it makes you physically jerk backwards, almost slamming your head against the wall in the process. And two pairs of eyes – one a deep, luminous gold, the other a cool, gunmetal blue – stare at you in wide eyed wonder a split millisecond before you wrench yourself free, gasping. 

The moment their grip falters, the torrent stops. You can breathe.

Blessed silence, save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Everything fades out around you – the students and lecturers alike bustling through the busy hallway, the humming drone of chatter that’s nearly deafening. Nothing exists but the three of you; caught in your little bubble.

And it’s dread, you think, that seeps through your blood as you stare at them. 

They’re both handsome, albeit in their own ways. The taller of the two – the one who’d almost barrelled you over – looks like he could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat. His shirt isn’t exactly clinging to him, but you can see the hints of well defined muscles beneath, and the size of his biceps alone are enough to make your heart skip a beat and your mouth dry up a little. With rippling muscles, spiky black and silver hair, a strong jawline and those round, golden eyes, he looks like a modern day adonis. 

His friend might’ve been shorter, his build leaner, but with his softer features, pretty eyes and dark hair, you think he’s perhaps the prettiest man you’ve ever laid eyes on. From the fineness of his nose to the gentle curve of his lips and his long, dark sweeping eyelashes, he reminds you of those white marble statues you’ve seen before in museums and art galleries– a beauty so divine, so perfect – so devastating – that it steals your breath a little.

And they’re both watching you, frozen entirely. Smiling in breathless delight, as if they can’t quite believe it either.

Soulmates. 

You’ve spent your whole life wondering what it would be like, experiencing somebody else’s emotions. Studies have been done and countless books and articles written about the bond between soulmates; the intimacy of sharing emotions through touch, but nobody really knows why or how it happens.  

And for some, it’s a subtle thing. A suggestion, a whisper against their own consciousness, easily brushed aside. Others feel it stronger. 

For you, it was like drowning. Choking under the sudden, intense barrage of feelings that weren’t yours. Maybe it’s because there’s two of them – and that much at least you’re sure of. You don’t have the words to explain it, but they’d felt separate somehow, distinctive from one another – kind of like fingerprints, you suppose.

There’s no denying the bond, no denying that they’re both your soulmates, and all you can think of is that you don’t want it. Not here, not now. Not them.

The dark haired one seems to realise quicker than his friend that you’re not reacting how you’re supposed to, you’re just standing there, rigid and tense, gaping at them. And the slight smile that graced his perfect lips starts to waver, his brows drawing together when finally his friend cottons on.

He reaches for you, the beginnings of a pout taking shape on his face, and you move without even thinking, jerking out of reach with a sharp breath. His hand hangs outstretched for a beat too long, a noise like a kicked puppy leaving his lips as he realises that you’re flinching away from him; away from your soulmate. He looks heartbroken, and he’s yet to utter a single word. 

You don’t give him a chance. You’re not some cold, unfeeling beast; there’s a twinge in your heart, a heaviness that’s far too close to guilt settling in your stomach, but you just can’t. And with shaking hands you bend over and hastily grab up your things, forcing yourself not to meet their confused, hurt stares when you right yourself. 

“I– I’m sorry,” you murmur, and before either one of them can try to stop you, you disappear into the crowd, racing for your exam. 

—

The lights are on when you make it back home, the familiar, comforting scent of home cooked food filling your apartment.

“Hey, babe,” your boyfriend calls out as you wearily drop your purse by the door and kick out of your shoes. His back’s to you, attention fixed on the simmering saucepan on the stovetop, but he glances over his shoulder as he continues, “How’d your exam go?”

And you can’t help it, you burst into tears.

Painful, heaving sobs that might’ve had you collapsing onto the floor if he hadn’t swept across the room to snatch you up into his arms. “That bad, huh?” Kuguri jokes, but the words sound hollow.

“I found them,” you mutter into his chest, and the way he stiffens, his grip tightening for just a moment has your heart breaking all over again. 

Kuguri doesn’t say much as he leads you to the couch, he just lets you talk. It’s almost worse, you think, the way he doesn’t react. 

Because you both knew this was coming at some point. For months you’ve tried to convince yourself that you could feel him when you were together.

You felt his love when he held you, right?

Happy when he was happy?

But you’d known, both of you, that as much as you wished it otherwise, he wasn’t your soulmate, and you weren’t his. And whether it was today or six months down the line, this was always going to happen.

“You don’t have to…” you trail off, searching his eyes desperately for anything other than the gentle resignation lingering there. “I love you.”

He smiles at that, cups your cheek in his hand and brushes away the stray tear that spills. “I know you do, but–” it’s not enough. “They’re your soulmates. Don’t you think they deserve a chance to make you happy?”

He’s gone when you wake the next morning.

—

In a university of thousands, a sprawling city campus, you honestly believe that in spite of everything, you probably won’t see them again. They don’t know your name, or what you study, you don’t live in the dorms like some of the other students; the chances of just randomly bumping into them again are slim, soulmates or no.

Of course, there are facebook groups and pages set up to reconnect lost soulmates, but you’d have to actually want to find them to try something like that.

(Part of you wonders whether they’ve tried)

The universe has a sense of humour, it seems, because when your paths cross next, it’s not at uni, it’s at the little corner store a few blocks down from your apartment. 

At 2am in the morning. 

And you’re staring intently at the freezer, mentally weighing up exactly what kind of ice cream you need to sate your craving when you hear the sharp intake of breath behind you.

“Holy crap, you’re here.”

It’s stupid, you think, the way your stomach flutters when you turn to find him staring in wide eyed wonder; the taller one, with the spiky hair and those impossibly wide, honey eyes.

He’s smiling, his entire face lit up like a christmas tree at the sight of you. As if you hadn’t run off without so much as an acknowledgement the last time you’d met. As if seeing you here, looking like shit – makeup free and dressed in your old favourite sweats – is the absolute best thing that could have happened.

And when your cheeks grow hot, you’re not entirely sure if it’s embarrassment over the way you look, the fact that he’s caught you buying ice cream that you fully intend to let melt just a little bit before polishing off at two in the morning, or if it’s shame over how badly you’d reacted the last time you’d seen him.

But if he notices your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it, grinning widely as he calls back over his shoulder, “Akaashi!”

You still haven’t uttered a peep, haven’t moved. Just like last time you’re caught feeling like a kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar as your other soulmate rounds the corner, his attention fixed on the ingredients list of the rice cracker snacks in his hands, a basket full of groceries tucked into the crook of his elbow.

“Bokuto, I was just around the corner, there’s no need to shout.”

Pretty steel blue eyes flicker up for a split second, then quickly do a double take as he realises that it’s you – his errant soulmate, standing struck dumb, here of all places. “Oh.”

Oh. 

Akaashi eyes you for a moment, and you watch as his throat bobs unsteadily, but just as with Bokuto, he can’t seem to help the smile that creeps across his face. It’s softer than his friend’s, not so blinding but warm nonetheless. Genuine. There’s no animosity there, and it should put you at ease – they don’t seem to blame you, at least. 

It should, but it doesn’t. 

Even now, there’s a little voice in your head urging you to forget your late night cravings, turn tail and run. Nevermind that they’d likely just follow you, much less that you’d look like an absolute fucking idiot, fleeing from your soulmates who so far have done nothing wrong.

It’s not supposed to be this awkward, right? It’s not supposed to be difficult, but even when they’re smiling at you, there’s a tension that digs its claws into you and refuses to relent. Your heart thumps unevenly, like a scared little bunny caught in a trap and the wolves are circling.

If it’s normal, then your parents and every other soulmated pair you’ve ever met certainly kept it to themselves. Maybe it’s the guilt, you think. Maybe you’re just being overdramatic. They’re your soulmates, right? They probably just want to talk, to get to know you, and right now you’re the one being standoffish and rude. 

It occurs to you then that you still haven’t spoken, and they’re both staring at you somewhat expectantly. You really are fucking this up, aren’t you?

“H-hi,” you manage to muster, forcing yourself to smile back. Tiny and timidly, perhaps, but it’s a smile. 

It seems to work, because Bokuto positively beams at you and Akaashi sets down his basket to slide in closer, a pleased little hum escaping his throat. 

Aside from the faint sound of the radio playing in the background and the cashier casually flicking through a magazine up at the register, the store is quiet. It’s just the three of you, except this time there really is no running off and disappearing into the crowd. Which is fine, you need to face them sooner or later, right?

Give them a chance?

Otherwise everything else, all that heartbreak and the lonely nights since will have been all for nothing. So you swallow tightly, take a soft, steadying breath, and press on.

“I, um… I’m sorry about last time. You know with… everything,” you finish lamely, mentally cringing at the sheer awkwardness of it. “I had an exam.”

But again, your soulmates don’t seem to take it personally, the darker haired one (Akaashi, your brain helpfully supplies) nodding slightly. 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” He has a nice voice, calming and smooth, and though the words seem to carry a different weight you find yourself nodding along with him. You can do this, you can make an effort.

This is fine.

You swallow again, tongue darting out to wet your lips, “I’m Y/N,” you introduce, clutching just a little bit tighter at the handles of your own shopping basket.

You don’t extend a hand, nor try to go in for a hug, but standing there rigidly feels wrong too. They’re strangers, yes, but they’re also not, and you don’t quite know how to act around somebody like that, somebody you’re supposedly fated for but know nothing about. All you know is that the last time they touched you, it was too much. It hurt. And even as you catch sight of the slightly disheartened expression on Bokuto’s face, you’re hesitant to put yourself through it again.

“It’s pretty,” Akaashi compliments, and there’s a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks as he says it. “Suits you.”

Your own probably aren’t much better, with the blood that rushes to your face. You drop your gaze a little, nibbling on your bottom lip, “O-oh, uh… thank you.”

When you glance back up to Bokuto, you find him staring at you again, not with the same hurt expression as before, but something akin to wonder. He seems speechless, in awe of your flustered state, and you wonder how he can bounce that quickly from emotion to emotion without giving himself whiplash. But it seems like your attention is just the thing he needs to pull himself out of it, because he closes his gaping mouth and grins again.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it out, rolling your name over his tongue. “You probably heard, but I’m Bokuto– you can call me Koutarou, though.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and he’s quick to add, “And that’s Akaashi.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi corrects, shooting you another gentle smile. 

First names. It makes sense, you suppose, but the familiarity of it all still doesn’t sit quite right with you. But now that introductions are out of the way, you don't have a clue what you’re supposed to say now - ‘so, soulmates; crazy, huh?’ doesn’t exactly feel appropriate, given the circumstances.

You’re distinctly aware that it’s the middle of the night and you’re at a convenience store and while this might not be the worst time to run into your soulmates again, it’s not far off. 

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though, because at least it kind of gives you an out. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you clear your throat, “I hope you guys don’t think I’m being rude or anything, but it is kinda late…” you trail off, hoping they’ll pick up what you’re putting down.

And while Bokuto’s brow furrows, Akaashi at least has the decency to look a little abashed. “Yeah, no, of course. We’re just so… we’re glad we ran into you again.”

 Your cheeks heat again, and to save yourself from having to meet their gazes head on, you quickly spin around, open the freezer door and grab the first pint ice cream that you see. “I just came for this,” you laugh, fighting back a wince at how hollow and fake it all sounds. 

“Here,” Bokuto says, and before you can react he’s snatching it from your grip (thankfully keeping his hand from brushing against yours) and places it atop the basket in Akaashi’s arms. “Our treat.”

He beams at you, and you’re honestly too stunned to reply. You don’t really want him paying for it, but if it gets you out of this awkward encounter any quicker, you’ll swallow down your protests and let it go. 

And so you trail meekly after the two of them as they head to the cashier, and when Akaashi passes you the bag you’re so careful to avoid his touch, a fact he notes with the slightest of frowns, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s late,” he says instead as the three of you exit into the brisk night air. And then those gunmetal eyes are on you, studying you for a moment. You realise what he’s about to say the moment he opens his mouth again, “Can we walk you home? Or to the bus stop at least?”

Your stomach lurches at the thought of it, of two veritable strangers knowing where you live, but–

He’s not wrong, exactly. It is late, and in hindsight it was probably stupid for you to have come out at this time of the night alone in the first place, whether it was a safe neighbourhood or not. And they’re not strangers, they’re your soulmates.

You have to try. 

So you nod. ‘It’s just down the road,” you murmur, but as the two of them fall into step either side of you, sharing a distinctly satisfied look between themselves, you think that it wouldn’t have mattered how far it was. They would have walked with you anywhere.

Yet their expressions of mild surprise (disappointment, maybe?) when you stop them less than five minutes later in front of your apartment block almost makes you laugh. “This is me.”

Bokuto eyes the building for just a moment before his attention returns to you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Lie, that little voice inside your head urges, but you force yourself to ignore it. You have to try. “Uh, not much, I guess…”

Even as you say the words, your hands tighten on your bag, twisting nervously – a sign they either don’t read or wilfully ignore as Bokuto brightens up once again.

“Awesome! Wanna swing by ours to chill for a little bit?”

Like a date, you think as your gaze flickers between the two. Yet Akaashi’s watching you just as intently, those dark eyes far more inscrutable than Bokuto’s, which doesn’t help ease the uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach. There’s really no reason for you to say no, no polite way for you to turn them down. They’re your soulmates, you’re supposed to want this. “Um…”

“Or we can come here, if you want? Or head into the city and do something there, maybe go see a movie or something? Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No!” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them, the idea of the two of them in your apartment, your home just feels like… too much. “No,” you repeat again, quieter, forcing your features to soften into a hesitant smile. “Your place is good.”

That way you can leave if it all gets to be too much. It’s just a casual hang out. It’ll be fine. 

Both of them seem to relax at your agreement, and you quickly take out your phone to grab Akaashi’s number – sending him a message so he has your number too.

“Perfect,” he says, his voice a purr that sends a ripple of something running down your spine. “I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

You smile at both of them, thanking them again for the ice cream and for walking back with you, even if it was only a few hundred metres. And you think you’re in the clear as you start walking up the steps, trying to balance your keys, your phone and your bags when the sound of your name being called makes you turn around.

Bokuto’s there, a step behind you, and before you can even so much as blink he’s grabbing at your hand, tugging you forward and kissing you.

Just like last time, it’s instantaneous and overwhelming. You feel it all – his giddy excitement, the stirrings of something deeper, less innocent as he cradles your body to his.

And the love. 

Oh god. It’s not mere affection, not some fleeting, superficial thing. It pours over you in unrelenting waves, crushing you under the force of it – you can’t even feel his tongue moving against yours, or the way he sucks on your bottom lip, groaning quietly.

You can’t breathe, can’t think. It’s too much, too much, too strong, too sudden, you can’t BREATHE.

Your trembling hands finds his shoulders, and as your head spins, nausea churning in your gut you don’t waste a second, shoving him away from you with enough force that he actually stumbles back a little.

Though you’ll admit it’s probably more from shock than any strength you actually possess. 

And you don’t dare look to Akaashi as tears fill your eyes, a heaving gasp leaving your lips. Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape; he looks confused more than horrified as you stumble back, almost tripping over the last step.

“D-don’t touch me,” you gasp, “please.”

There’s pain in his eyes as your tears well up and spill over and you choke back another sob, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything else. Limbs trembling, you force yourself upright, clutching at the keys in your fist as you skitter towards the door.

You hear one of them, Akaashi you think, calling out your name, but you don’t pause, don’t look back – throwing open the lobby door and slamming it shut behind you. 

And your heart pounds as you climb the steps two at a time, and it’s only once you're in the safety of your own apartment, with the door shut and firmly locked that you allow yourself to breathe. You realise distantly that at some point – probably on the steps outside – you dropped the ice cream they’d bought for you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. The first time you realise was an accident, they had no way of knowing you were their soulmate, much less how you’d react when they’d touched you. But that–

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

Those feelings, that love, you’ve never experienced anything like it, and yet it’s left you feeling filthy; tainted. Scared. It was too much; boundless and abundant, the kind of love that devours and chokes, selfishly strangling everything in its environment to thrive. Overpowering and solely directed at you. How was it supposed to do anything but terrify you. And how can he possibly believe that he loves you like that already?

Soulmates or not, you don’t know him!

This– this whole thing is wrong.

You can’t stop yourself from checking the locks on your apartment another three times before you slip under the covers of your bed, trying to will sleep to find you.

On the nightstand beside you, your phone vibrates, but you refuse to check it, knowing full well that it’s them.

It doesn’t stop.

And with every new notification your blood pressure climbs, and there’s a part of you that’s telling you you have no reason to be reacting like this – whatever happened on those steps, it’s not like they’re going to hurt you.

It was an accident, a misunderstanding.

But they’re still blowing your phone up with notifications and they know where you live and no matter what you tell yourself, you can’t seem to quell the disquiet that eats away at you.

And it’s a cruel thing to do, you know it is, but you don’t know what else to do as you finally give in, swiping your phone up and searching for his contact. The phone rings once, twice, three times and there’s a sinking feeling in your chest when you realise he’s not going to pick up–

“Hello?” Kuguri’s voice is groggy, heavy with sleep and you can almost picture him, sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, running a hand through his messy bed hair. “Fuck, do you know what time it is, Y/N? Why’re you calling me so late?”

There’s a pause, pregnant and heavy, and the only sound that leaves you is the soft hitch in your breath.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, quieter this time, an edge of worry in his tone.

You haven’t spoken to him in weeks, since he’d left without a word and broke your heart, but he’s the only one you want to talk to right now.  

“I-I’m sorry for calling,” you begin, sniffling back your tears. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

—

When you drag yourself out of bed only a few short hours later, your body’s still crying out for a little more sleep, but you can’t afford to indulge.

Like you’d planned, you send the message first thing, ignoring the flood of unread texts above – both from Akaashi and an unknown number you can only assume is Bokuto’s.

I’m sorry about last night, just need some space. 

You have nothing to be sorry for – even if it wasn’t for the frankly unsettling emotions you’d felt, Bokuto’d still kissed you without your permission. But Kuguri said it was better that way – they were less likely to freak out and panic or whatever. You hadn’t questioned it too much, it didn’t really matter what you said so long as they knew you didn’t want them anywhere near you… at least until you figured this whole thing out. And you trusted Kuguri on this.

God knows why he’d even answered your call in the first place, but you’re impossibly glad that he did. Gladder still that he hadn’t hung up on you the moment he’d realised why you were calling.

You scoff down a quick breakfast, before hopping into the shower. The scalding water’s a welcome relief, waking you up more than your coffee had and allowing you the space to think.

Kuguri’s got errands to run this morning, but he’d said you were welcome to stop by his place anytime. He’d insisted on it actually, telling you in no uncertain terms to pack an overnight bag.

‘Look, I’m probably being an overprotective asshole, alright, but I don’t want you there by yourself, so either you come here or I’m coming over there.’

And the thought that you’d need somebody there to protect you, that either one of your soulmates would do anything–

But it’s not so much about them, you think, but you. You’d been a mess when you’d called him, and despite how everything had gone down, Kuguri still cared about you – you can’t just turn those feelings off overnight – is it any wonder that you’d worried him?

Distantly, you register your phone going off a few more times as you busy yourself in washing your hair. You assume it’s Kuguri checking up on you, making sure that you’re alright – you pay it no mind, humming quietly as you reach for your conditioner.

And by the time you slip from your bathroom, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel it’s probably closer to mid-morning than you’d like. You don’t bother blow drying your hair or putting on makeup, instead heading to your room to get dressed and grab some clothes to take to Kuguri’s.

Except there’s a knocking at the door that stops you in your tracks.

You hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building’s main door go off, which meant that it was probably just your landlord stopping by, or one of your neighbours. You know the little girl who lives in the apartment next to yours likes to bake with her dad and sometimes drops off freshly made cookies and treats, so you hastily throw on enough clothes to pass as decent. 

“Coming,” you sing out, racing across the room to reach the door. 

Except when you throw it open, it’s not one of your neighbours standing out in your hallway, nor is it your elderly landlord. 

Akaashi and Bokuto crowd the empty space; Bokuto grinning widely, Akaashi’s dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he murmurs, a faint frown tugging at his features as studies your face. “We were worried about you.”

And there’s so many things wrong with the fact that they’re here; least of all being how the hell they got into the building to begin with, but you can’t afford to think of any of that. You simply need to get them out of here without causing a fuss. Now.

They’re still your soulmates, you remind yourself as your heart rate picks up. They won’t do anything to hurt you. 

“I-I told you I needed space, please go,” you mutter, clutching so tightly at the edge of the door that your knuckles turn white. “Please,” you beg again when neither of them make a move to leave.

“I told you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto says, his smile slipping in favour of a wounded pout, “She’s afraid of us. Her soulmates.”

And you don’t know what compels you to shake your head instead of just slamming the door in their faces, “N-no, I just–”

“She’s just skittish,” Akaashi interrupts, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Overwhelmed – this is all new to her. It’s okay, princess,” he says, addressing you this time with a teasing little smirk, “We’ll be gentle, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”

It’s the final blow to your tentative politeness. As panic sinks its teeth into you, you skitter backwards, scrambling to shut the front door before they can get in–

Bokuto’s faster. They both are.

Stronger, too. 

[webcricket]

Great Expectations

Characters: CastielXReader

Word Count: 1297

Summary: A five part fluffy 1st date drabble series. Castiel’s nerves nearly get the better of him when he realizes you didn’t realize that when he asked if you wanted to grab dinner, he was actually asking if you would like to go on a date.

Previous Parts: Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt. 3

Part 4: A Stairway to Heaven

“Open your eyes.”

Eager as you are to see the surprise Cas has in store for you on the bunker’s roof, your breath stutters when he lifts the warmth of his fingers away from where they loosely sheathed your sight. Replacing the dark shielding heat of his hands is a glow of gold against the thin skin shuttering your lashes – a gilded glow very much like that of a sun you know set hours ago.

Eyes flying wide as directed to seek out the source of that strange luminance, strings of tiny twinkling white bulbs crisscrossing the rooftop greet your awestruck vision. In the center, where the lines of light meet, a blanket spreads below; a picnic basket sits strewn to one side.

Suddenly feeling breathless and short on oxygen although you’ve been standing still, you sway backward at the onslaught of sweetness and into the sturdy pillar of the seraph’s frame.

He catches you; a gentle grip encircles your upper arms, easing your spine into the solid cushion of his chest to steady your balance.

“Cas, when-” you whisper, volume weighted in wonderment- “when did you have time to do all this?”

When he speaks, relieved the extent of his worried measures to make tonight special are enough to delight despite the misunderstandings of intent overcome to get here, whatever awkwardness he endured forgotten, the small smile of his satisfaction at your awestruck reaction hovers along the shell of your ear. “Nevermind that-” his rasping voice radiates outward from the spot, exciting pins and needles of pleasure in every nerve- “do you like it?”

You twist in his grasp, throw your arms around his nape, and murmur happily into the hollow of his neck, “I love it!”

Skimming and pressing his palms to return the fondness-fueled embrace, burying his scruffy chin at your shoulder, his blues close; the essence of his being endeavors to imprint the magic of this moment forever into a mind accustomed to only to the seeming certainties of doubt and disappointment.

The molten mingling of heat between your bodies, the way you melt into him as though puzzle pieces perfectly fashioned to fit one another, the subtle scent of lavender and something comelier than anything else in creation clinging to your hair, and the musical mayhem of the pulse reverberating through your ribs, is more succor than he imagined a fallen seraph might find in this world, let alone believe he deserved.

Yet, here you are, flesh and blood and vitality and - he dare not aspire too ardently because you haven’t embarked beyond a hug, heated as it feels to him, at the threshold of a romantic rooftop rendezvous- finally his.

He dare not dream, however, hope nonetheless flusters his senses.

Neither of you hastens to separate, the silent shrouding seconds stretch on in pure contentment.

The grumbling intrusion of your stomach, your stupid hunger-pitted stomach, the very same stomach ticklishly alive in a seraphim-induced swarm of butterflies in frenzied flight, breaks the enchantment.

“Sorry.” Leaning away from the angel, embarrassment deepens the pink flush of your face.

“Don’t be.” Seizing full advantage of the new vantage point of nearness, he brings a hand up to cradle the column of your throat and runs the rough pad of his thumb along the angle of your jaw as he memorizes every freckle and minute furrow upon your face, the glinting of the gaze fixed fondly on him as if he mattered more than anything in existence, and the trembling of lip where he concludes the caress and his careful study.

Self-conscious at the desire occurring to him then to steal a kiss from those petals pliantly parting under the intensity of his stare to hint at their willingness to seal with his own, his focus flicks upward to your eyes.

A soft sigh exhales through your nose - a subtle escape of regret that he did not yield to his obvious yearning, and remorse also that you failed to act on it when he didn’t and Chuck only knows if it took him this long to ask you on a date, how long it will be before you get a taste of actual Heaven. The boisterous growled demands of your famished belly again foul the romantic ambiance; you can’t help but cast him a glance coiled in unspoken anxiety of apology.

“That’s starting to sound pretty serious, perhaps we should eat.” Blues chuckling in creased amusement at your corporally insistent hunger, tender touch gliding to the divot dipped apex just above where your low back blooms into the roundness of a denim-supported bottom, he urges you, warmly brushing the sliver of skin exposed between your shirt and waist, to spin and shuffle off to the waiting blanket.

Moving the picnic basket into reach as you both sit, it’s he who wants to apologize for the humble pair of parchment and ribbon wrapped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches tucked therein; two, stuffed with potato chips – a Winchester family secret passed down from his dad Dean taught him to add crunchy texture and salt to cut the soggy amalgamation of sticky bread - to avert the awkwardness of asking you to eat alone.

“You made these?” you ask, watching glittery-eyed as he unpacks the picnic contents.

“Yes-” he admits, passing you one on a plate- “but they’re just PB&J.”

Just PB&J; for all the defeat damping his tone, he may as well have told you they were just his heart on his sleeve waiting to be trounced. “Thank you.” You pluck at the neatly tied bow on top to free what to you, because it was made especially for you by his hands and the best he has to offer when it comes to cooking, is an absolute feast.

“They’re perfect.” You lay a palm to his knee and squeeze until he trains his attention from popping the cork on the bottle of bubbly he hopes makes up for, or at least numbs your notice, of his lack of culinary acumen, to your glossy gaze. “Everything is perfect, Cas.”

That reassurance relaxes the tenseness casting shadows onto his confidence and his countenance enough to soothe a smile back into the camber of his mouth. “I’m glad. Very glad you said ‘Yes’ even though I wasn’t clear about this being a date.”

“Nevermind that-” you tease, echoing his earlier words- “I was always going to say ‘Yes.’”

His smile broadens; distracted by you and the joy expanding outward from the center of his being with every beat of his vessel’s heart in your presence, and never having poured champagne to gain an understanding of the rapid expansion of its effervescence, he overfills both flutes.

Giggling, you eagerly accept the brimming glass and clink it against the one held in his alcohol-wetted fingertips. “To us,” you toast.

“To us,” he repeats; a heaviness of emotion deepens his voice almost to a whisper. His eyes follow as you bring the champagne to your beaming lips to sip.

It’s not the first time - nor will it be the last time tonight, as you nestle nearer and nearer beneath the lights and stars in the cooling midnight air chatting about nothing and everything and sometimes saying naught at all and simply enjoying the sensation of being together - that the sea blue swirl of his longing gaze kisses the sweet pout of your lips, wondering at the signs – sentiments quietly spoken and movements molded by emotion - of love and acceptance surrendering themselves there to him.

And yet, perhaps his history of failures proving paralytic in affront to the proofs of your affection, Dean’s magnanimously donated mouthwash moreover not providing the minty liquid courage he needed, he hesitates to close the distance to claim a heart already his.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy   @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity   @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @xdifsx @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @ladyofletters67  @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim   @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @lilulo-12  @x-cassiopeia  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson   @missjenniferb  @jessiekay2010

[aurilis]

Known you before, chap 6 Love and its complication part 4

This is the end. The end of happy days is brutally occuring for Carmen.

Chase approached her. Carmen barely dared to lift eyes to him. Then, he cupped her face before dropping a kiss on her forehead. Sandiego widened eyes. So … was it back to normal ? Did this mean he forgave her and wasn’t mad anymore ? The teen stared at him with those questions in her apples of the eye.

“ Feeling better ?” he asked with a warm voice.

“ You’re not mad at me anymore ?” she questioned, needing to be sure of it.

“ No. Of course no, my little Carmen.” replied Devineaux, his hand caressing her head.

Relief passed on her face as she offered a luminous smile. Carmen hugged him.

“ Whoah. Did that annoyed you that much ?” he said, noticing the strength of her embrace.

“ I thought you perhaps hated me. I don’t want you to hate me.” replied Carmen, her on face on his shirt.

“ Aaaaw Carmy ! I wouldn’t hate you for so little.” resumed Chase, tenderized.

She smiled. The man let her enjoyed this hug, caressing her back. If it were up to her, they would remain like this for hours. However, Chase reminded her it was time to prepare diner. So she slowly backed away. They exchanged a look full of tenderness before separating. She followed him to the kitchen to help, smiling all the way long. Things were back to normal between them, and that was all she wanted. Well, she was still grounded but couldn’t care less. As long as Chase wasn’t ignoring her, and replying to her affection. Life went on, with love still winning over reason for Carmen. One year. It has been one year since Devineaux collected her in the streets. They spent Christmas just the two of them, which delighted Sandiego. She regretted a bit that her beloved one didn’t want to call his parents on that day at least. Carmen managed to convince to text them.

“ It’s really because it’s you.” he said.

To what she just smiled broadly. This done, they enjoyed a little stroll and a battle of snowballs.

“ So you’re decided about your studies ?” asked Chase, once home.

He served a mug of warm chocolate.

“ Yes. I like discovering other cultures, so being a tour guide suits me.”

“ Perfect. We’ll handle this next week.”

She leaned against him. A few days later however, everything was about to topple. Chase and Carmen decided to visit a museum before the end of his holidays. They were both tranquilly observing various objects, when suddenly a shout resonated. Someone went to announce that a theft had just been committed. All visitors were to be searched. It was like Carmen retrieved memory. She examined everything around her, in an attempt to spot the thief. Her mind traced what path he or she could have taken, how, where. That was how she saw him. Her former classmate. La Chèvre. The ground opened below her. Like the world collapsed. VILE was here. VILE was still existing. They were stealing and hurting people.

“ Carmen !”

Chase’s worried voice didn’t reach her. Carmen stood planted here. The past just paid her a visit, remembering her her goal. Devineaux took her by the shoulders. She seemed shocked. He believed it was because of what just happened. So he took her in his arms.

No …

The guards here rummaged in their pockets and bags.

No no no …

Then Chase brought them back home.

No no no NOOO !

He said he was going to the police station to lend assistance. She vaguely nodded. Once he was gone she rushed to her phone.

“ Player it’s horrible what happened !”

“ What ? Are you or Chase injured ?”

“ No ! But we were in a museum and it was robbed !  By VILE ! One of them was here !” she exclaimed, torn between anger and despair.

“ Oh boy.”

Carmen paced in her room an instant. The whole scene was turning in circles in her head. Guilt emerged. Guilt for having forgetting about it. For letting them hurting people again. For staying idly by.

“ This is all my fault.”

“ I knew you’d say that. But I disagree. You have the right to live a nice life away from them. You needed a shelter and time to prepare remember ?”

“ But I decided to forget it all ! To give up ! I’m the only one who can stop them, I have no right to give up ! And … it means that …” exclaimed Carmen.

It hit her violently. What she had to do. What it implied. Tears arrived.

“ It means I have to leave. I have to leave Chase. No … oh my god no I don’t want it … nooooo !”

Sandiego sobbed.

“ Carmen I’m so sorry. But think about it before. You can choose your own life.” pleaded Player.

He listened crying for a while. Carmen said goodbye to her friend. She wanted to be alone. She cried once more on her bed.

[sweetredbeans]

A Sinlings Story

This is a birthday present for one of the best people I know.

Happy Birthday @bubblemagician!!!! I hope you have a fantastic day!

Addy's eyes blinked open, his turquoise gaze bleary and unfocused, to see a bright yellow glow. It took him a hazy minute to register that he wasn't in his normal bed—it wasn't the sun glowing through his eastern-facing window—it was Roy's golden hair and luminous smile, and he was in the grandiose room they were sharing at the Sin's mansion.

“Wake up Addy! Wake up!” Roy chirped.

Addy made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. He wasn't a morning person at the best of times, and last night they'd all stayed up super late playing hide-and-seek in the dark. Which, admittedly, had been awesome, and so much fun, but he now very much did not want to have to get up at ridiculously-early o'clock...whatever that was. He half rolled over to peer at the clock, which said something approximating 7 am, and he made another muffled grumpy noise and pulled the pillow back over his head.

Roy would not be deterred though, leaning on Addy's bed and bouncing, “Come on Addy! It's EASTER you gotta get up, you gotta get up, there's Easter Eggs to find!”

That was probably the only way to actually get Addy up—promise the hope of chocolatey food. He slowly pulled the pillow off his face, peering up at Roy's glowing visage, “Fiiiiine.”

“Yaaaay!” Roy shoved off the bed again, nearly making Addy tip over as he tried to sit up and do something about the fluffy black and pink hair that seemed to have a mind of its own this morning, “You know there's going to be a competition, to see who can get the most eggs!” He clenched his fists and looked determined, “I bet it's gonna be me; I have a plan all set out!”

“Mrph,” was all Addy commented as he slowly dragged himself out of bed and oozed over to the attached bathroom.

Roy kept on chatting as Addy brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and ran a comb through his hair, which Addy tuned out with practiced ease. When he finally emerged, feeling a little more alive, Roy was perfectly dressed in a pressed, blue-collared shirt, looking every inch the young gentlemen on a mission.

“You look fancy for going out and running around the gardens,” Addy commented, pulling on his own, red shirt. It was decorated with little sparkly Easter eggs embroidered down the front.

“It's Easter! I want to dress up.”

“I wonder what Marie will be wearing? Something fancy I'm sure.”

Roy, who knew, of course, nodded, “You'll see! She spent a long time going through the stores to find the perfect ensemble,” he added a fancy French flair to the last word. Now that Addy was dressed, Roy grabbed his hand and dragged him out of their room.

Once they were in the halls, Addy was even more revitalized by the distinct smell of pancakes and syrup, and now he was trotting along with Roy instead of being pulled.

They emerged into the kitchen, where Britton and Red were well on their way to making a pretty ginormous breakfast for all the associated cousins and families who were spending Easter weekend here. Marie was already seated there, fork and knife clutched in her hands, with her eyes laser-focused on the plate that Britton was carrying over, stacked high with chocolate chip and blueberry and strawberry-topped pancakes. Addy's youngest brothers, Paris and Troy, were both there too; the 7 year olds had been staying with Red and Britton, since they had a tendency to find whatever trouble existed anywhere and manage to immerse themselves in it. Plus...they couldn't be left alone. They were already surreptitiously poking each other at the table, and that was them trying to behave.

Roy had been right—Marie was dressed to the nines. Her pink shirt was decorated with bunnies and eggs in sparkling sequins. Her earrings were glittery Easter eggs, and the headband in her pink hair displayed two fluffy white bunny ears.

“Good morning, princess!” Roy called.

Marie smiled at him, but her attention was quickly reclaimed by the plate set in front of her. In about 10 seconds, she had three pancakes on her plate, had drenched them in real maple syrup, and was proceeding to devour them.

Addy thought that was a perfectly good idea too, and slid into a chair between his cousin and his brothers, stealing specifically only the strawberry and chocolate-related pancakes—whoever thought that blueberries belonged in breakfast treats was very confused.

“Did you sleep well Gumdrop?” Britton asked, fluffing Addy's hair on his way to help Paris and Troy.

“It's not too early for you?” Red smiled, his green eyes sparkling.

Addy's mouth was full, so he just said, “Mmmm,” and kept on munching.

Which was clever, because it was right about then that the rest of the cousins showed up. The first sign was the tell-tale portal created by Luci because he never wanted to bother himself with walking down the stairs, but before he could step through, there was a crashing noise as Miles, Sylvester and Cisco came colliding down the stairs in a tangle of limbs and excited shouts loud enough to wake the dead.

“HAPPY EASTER!” Someone shrieked, and in half a moment the kitchen was full and noisy and excited. Luci jumped in and then he and Miles promptly got in an argument about who made it down first, which Sylvester and Cisco both simultaneously dove for the pancakes, managing to nearly trip each other.

“Whoa there, dumplings,” Britton chided gently, as Red deftly reached to catch the two boys, in one fluid motion setting them into chairs.

Cisco practically bounced in his chair, “Mommy, Daddy, I'm so excited to go get eggs, do you think there's gonna be a lot? Did the Easter Bunny come and give us stuff?”

Red smiled, “I'm sure he did, licorice stick. But take a breath and eat your breakfast first, okay?”

Cisco promptly proceeded to shove pancakes in his mouth, still trying to talk until Marie shot him a dirty look from under her perfect princess eyebrows, and Sylvester, who was eating his food in silence, elbowed him in the ribs.

Given the number of kids in the room who were related to Gluttony, breakfast disappeared ridiculously quickly, and Red and Britton had their hands full keeping up with everyone.

The instant the pancakes—and eventual bacon—had vanished, the stampede of Sinlings rushed to the back doors of the porch, which were thrown open wide by Zel and Brice, who had been doing the last minute preparations to make sure that the hunt went perfectly.

The gardens and lawn of the Sin's Mansion spread out before them, glimmering in the early morning sun, bright verdant greens, the newly sprouted butter yellow of the daffodils, warm reds and pinks and oranges from the tulips—and there scattered amongst those colors, were the glittering gems of plastic shining Easter eggs.

All the Sinlings just gaped, mouths and eyes wide for about 1.25 seconds. And then Miles, Troy, and Luci all started to make a break for it—right up until Red and Brice simultaneously shouted, “Waaait just a second.” The two dads made a brief eye contact, and Red just ceded to Brice, going back to stand with Britton by the door.

“All right now y'all,” Brice said, “Here's the rules. You've got 30 minutes to try 'n get as many eggs as you can.” He grinned, “The one who has the most at the end wins somethin' really cool.”

“Whaaat?” Miles whined, and Brice raised an eyebrow.

“You'll jus' have to win and find out.” The Sinlings clamored excitedly, “All right—ready, set...go!”

And they were off like a shot.

Everyone had their own basket—pink and blue and yellow and black for all the various Sinlings they went with. Addy's was red, with little pink ribbons threaded through it and pink fluff at the bottom to keep the eggs from knocking around.

There was a bet, instigated by Luci probably, on who could use their powers and abilities and skills to find the most eggs. All the Gluttony kids could practically smell the chocolate—Addy could for sure, he could feel the delicious candy in the spring-colored eggs all around him. Luci was hopping around the field like the Easter bunny himself—appearing wherever he saw eggs. At least, he did that right up until Miles snuck up behind him and tackled his cousin, yelling, “That's cheeeeeating!” and refusing to let him up until he promised to stop. This started a 3 minute long argument about the rules and who was doing better, which finally ended, somehow, with them agreeing to team up in their usual dynamic duo in order to beat everyone else.

Marie had dragged Tavros down finally from his cozy bed, despite the fact that the Slothful Sinling had said he didn't want to, and was pulling him around with her. Roy kept bouncing over to say hi, but every time he did, Princess Marie gave him an evil eye and said, “Go away! You'll get our eggs!” Finally, Roy just had to satisfy himself by looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure nothing was going on with his sister.

Conveniently, this slowed him down substantially in his plan to find eggs.

Troy and Paris were staying closer to the house, where the eggs seemed to be a little bit more dense, but also better hidden among the flowers. Troy, of course, slowly kept wandering closer and closer towards where Miles and Luci were, keeping an eye on them. Paris, meanwhile, was well on his way to winning, using his particularly good sense of smell to pick out the chocolate among the flowers—although he did occasionally get distracted by the delicious aromas from the tulips especially.

Somewhere out in the lawns, Cisco and Sylvester were running around, exclaiming and diving into bushes to grab their prizes, holding them up in triumph and generally having an excellent time.

Addy smiled to himself, glancing back up at the porch where all their parents were sitting, watching over them.

Dream was sitting on the porch swing, Parkere's head in his lap as the orange-hooded Sin watched through half-lidded eyes. Zel and Brice were lounging on the deck chairs, both having acquired fancy little drinks that they were sipping. Luci's parents weren't actually present—but that was all right because at this point Zel and Brice had basically adopted him as a fourth child, and besides, this sort of thing really wasn't Mikel and Dodge's cup of tea. Red and Britton were sitting on the steps, snuggled close to each other, and occasionally calling encouragement—Red met Addy's eyes and smiled, “Having fun, Gumdrop?”

Addy nodded, and went back to his meandering.

It really was a perfectly gorgeous day—the sun was perfectly warm, and everything smelled amazing. Addy was sorely tempted to just settle down and photosynthesize in the sun, but then his Gluttony reminded him that candy was within reach, and he went back to searching. He found one particularly difficult one, which had been delicately tucked inside a tulip of the same color, as well as one up a tree, which required some shimmying to get.

Thirty minutes went by remarkably quickly, and at the end, Brice stood up on the steps and counted down, as everyone scrambled to find any last eggs.

“TIME!” he shouted, “Everyone back to the porch—lets see who won!”

All the Sinlings scrambled back across the lawn, now in a race to see who could get back first (except for Tavros, who still had to be encouraged by Marie), and piled into a huddle on the porch, all comparing their egg quantities. It was pretty obvious that the true competition was between Marie, Paris, Addy, Sylvester and Cisco, and Miles and Luci—the others definitely didn't have as many, due to their various distractions.

“All right, all right,” Brice interrupted their discussions, “Count 'em up!”

And then there was silence, except for quiet murmuring as everyone sat down and began counting their eggs—or at least, there was silence until Miles and Luci got into an argument about who had which eggs in their collection, and nearly had one stolen by Cisco (Sylvester rolled his eyes and asked, “Do you have a death wish?”).

When all was said and done, though, everyone called out their numbers—and somehow, someway, it was Paris who came out on top, beating Marie out by only 2 eggs.

Addy grinned at his excited little brother, bouncing on the steps, as Marie glowered a bit.

“All right, here's the prize,” Zel had brought out a large box, grinning as she stepped across the porch, “First place goes to Paris.” Brice reached into the box and pulled out a glittering silver and pink crown. All the Sinlings—but especially the Pridelings—gasped in awe, as Brice set the crown perfectly in Paris' curly pink hair.

“Ah! It's beautiful!” Paris spun around, and dashed over to his parents, “Mommy, Daddy, do you like my crown, isn't it pretty? I'm like a princess!”

Marie looked even more sour, right up until Brice added, “And second place goes to my Princess Marie.” And had another circlet, only slightly less fancy than Paris'.

In fact, everybody got crowns—all in their preferred styles. Marie had pink gems set in silver and rose gold, Roy's was plain gold with blue, sturdy and respectable, and Miles' was dark silver with midnight blue gems. Tavros' was just a simple golden circlet, and Luci's was black with red stones. Troy's was dark too, with green accents, Cisco's was a simple black, and Sylvester's was simple silver with tiny little blue gems. Finally, Addy's was gold with both red and pink gems that were arranged somehow perfectly arranged to match the pink streaks in his hair.

All the Sinlings scampered around, showing off their Prince and Princess and King and Queen crowns, exclaiming to their parents and cousins about their excitement, and about the day—and then there was the excitement of the actual candy in the eggs, and before long everyone was also hyped on sugar and chocolate and delicious candy.

After a bit, Addy had snuggled up with his parents, contentedly munching on a butterfinger and watching some of the younger ones play tag out on the lawn.

“Did you have a nice Easter, Gumdrop?” Britton asked, fluffing Addy's hair.

“Mhmm...” Addy nodded.

And then Roy came up and grabbed his hand and pulled him off to play tag with everyone else, “Come on Addy!” His golden hair and blue eyes shone in the sunlight.

[an-avocado-abroad-blog]

What's a LDN Girl Gotta Do: Wan Chai

Wan Chai, HK’s red light district, is one of my favourite areas in the city. When I say red light district, it is extraordinarily tame. So if you're coming expecting a full blown Amsterdam you might want to reevaluate your motives. 

Instead expect curved streets, hutongs, boutique parades, the best Artisan coffee, the Hopewell Centre and everything in between. 

If you do end up at Admiralty expect a more trendy work environment with a higher price tag.

However, the closer you shuffle towards Wan Chai MTR the more authentic it gets.

I considered myself well versed in what to expect at a wet market. 

I thought I had seen every type of fish being descaled whilst alive in existence. I thought nearly dipping my jacket zip in sheep's brain was traumatic. 

I, as per usual, had seen nothing. 

What we experienced down those misty Wan Chai alleys was an insight into how our ancestors would have lived in Eastern Europe and how many live now. 

It wasn't particularly sanitary but then as my Mum pointed out you don't really know what you eat at restaurants. Personally, I think she needs to starve herself off watching anymore Ramsey Kitchen Nightmares. 

Anyway, if you were a vegetarian or had just eaten you would have not held down your food. 

What we saw was the entire Imma Celeb Bushtucker trial menu. 

I saw ears, tails of what animal I could not say, testicles, feet, hooves and most shockingly fish being thrown against a wall to stun them then bled to death. I believe in not judging other countries customs but this was just cruel.

But back to the tails for the minute. 

What possible concoction would an entire 3ft long tail even fit in? A cauldron perhaps? I certainly haven't seen any of the girls in my floor cook anything like that nor in any Cantonese recipe book. 

Koffee

No, that is not just another example of my numerous typos. It’s the title of one of Wan Chai’s tiny Japanese run overpriced coffee houses.  

They are not coffee shops because I associate this with Starbucks, Costa etc which are chains of mass produced plastic cups. 

Coffee houses in Wan Chai are as frequent as trees in the Amazon--plenty but seemingly never enough. 

I am a coffee fan but not an addict, nor a strict connoisseur because I strongly believe McCafe Coffee is delicious and should win awards. I instead linger on the fringe where I am drawn to cafes for their food options, price and playlist.

Maybe if I was not on a student budget I would be OK with paying more than £1-3 for a coffee. The main points to remember as you shuffle across your $50 and receive cents in change are that you are paying to sit in Wan Chai the district adjacent to central, drinking sustainably grown coffee, being served/meeting Baristas who A) Smile B) look beyond trendy wearing beanies Japanese themed t-shirts and arms adorned with Korean style geometric tattoos C) 75% of the time get your order correct. 

The food is expensive as well but exceptional for a coffee house. The menu often ranges from warm Matcha and red bean muffins to fresh beef burgers with fries which blind tasted would be linked to an established restaurant, not Habitu (ok coffee, really great food). 

A recommendation from a local was ‘Elephant Grounds’. Decked out in wooden seats and glass windows it was airy, clean and awakening. I tucked into my usual Granola and fruit composite which was the best I have ever had but then also would set you back $68 but it was huge and filled me up until dinner time.

The playlist ahh the playlist would have not been out of place at the R&B room at Mission nightclub it was fantastic a pure delightful mix of Drake, Solange but then also The Lumineers and some Cantonese artists. Pure Joy, I could have sat there all day and sang away into my empty wallet all day.

Also, their brownies are called ‘Wake and Bake’ so think who carefully about who you bring to this cafe. 

Looking for a more elegant touch? Belgium Le pain Quotidien is your answer. Serving hot, hearty stews, fresh croissant and hot chocolate there is nothing you could ever wish for and not receive here. 

But you also pay for such a luxury. 

Welcome to Wan Chai folks, it will steal your girl but also your $$$

Shoreditch but with culture

People like familiarity. It makes them feel safe it helps them to understand and digest information and the world around them. 

The entire time I was in Wan Chai (pre-wet market) I compared it to Shoreditch. 

Have I ever been to Shoreditch? 

Once, (i think?), thus making me completely capable and suitable for the author of this comparison. In the eyes of America at least. 

The truth is Wan Chai is nothing like Shoreditch. Sure its hipster and happily will sell you coffee for $50 but it has not been spoilt. The cultural Cantonese roots stick deep here under the basketball court/outdoor concert site, the markets, the live squid soup ‘hole in the wall’. Above the bars, reminiscent of those you can find in The Headrow in Leeds, live locals who buy their shui mai from the middle-aged Hong Konger with his steamer opposite Three Pacific Place.  

Yes, there are Merry Christmas signs but just witnessing the locals happiness upon seeing the magical lanterns suspended above the promenade was warming. It made me very excited and also nervous for the craziness that would be Chinese New Year (CNY).

Posher restaurants

Beef and Liberty was good. It was a good burger. Mine came with a slightly burnt bun from where the chef was holding a blowtorch and having a conversation with the waitress at the same time. 

I think the best part of the meal was the jasmine tea and how the American guy next to me was on Trip Advisor a mere 4 mins after finishing his burger. 

Speaking of burgers, if you're particularly hungry you might want to order a starter but for your regular joe it's a completely mathematically perfect amount and not just because it's Chinese owned. 

It's packed always and the burgers are churned out continuously-its exhausting just to watch. 

Would I go again? Probably not because I don't actually 'like' burgers that much and they had no chicken burger despite the restaurant being Beef and Liberty? Strange. 

Also, it didn't feel like you were in HK which was highlighted by nearly every table emitting a booming US accent. 

Would I recommend? If you're in Central/Wan Chai come if you want a good burger and excellent friendly service. 

Ratings 

Sun emoji: the jasmine tea was the best ever. Also homemade tomato sauce !!! Awkward face: did you spill the salt on the fries? Do you want me leaving with dehydration? I had to blow the salt off them. Also, it's clearly a hunting ground for HKU students so bare this in mind if you are expecting a more subdued adult environment take the train another stop to Central. 

Overall: 7/10 

[hiro-melodie7228]

Just reposting this

It was a cold and dreary night in the world of Lumen, the pitter-patter of rain falling on the armored helmets of two guards could be heard. The gates to heaven, or Tenebris as they call it, a large wall with millions of brick towers attached with a large steel gate in between, was what these two brutes dared to guard the world from. In the darkness, I was careful to keep the splashing of my feet wading through the flooded water of the black top road to a minimum. They mustn’t hear me. The two began to converse, one turning to the other, muttering, “hey, have you heard of the druid boy?”

“Everyone on this side of the earth has heard of Bong-Ju, why?” the other guard replied, waving one of his camouflaged, buff arm, the other occupied by a gun. “I could use that” I thought to myself, hiding behind a bush, shivering, anticipating the moment I would take those guards down.

“I heard that he’s trying to escape to Tenebris. You know, the place where the scum live?”

“Scum like him? I doubt it. Why would he want to go there if that place just has a bunch of monsters.”

“Well, if he is coming, we should be ready.” The two soldiers were unaware of my presence as I plan a smoke grenade right under their noses. The egg shaped grenade rolled out of my hand, floating directly in between the two soldiers. Four seconds… Three seconds… Two seconds… one second… Boom! The grenade bursted, the two soldiers squealing like the pigs they are. I tugged the gun out of the left man’s hands, a glowing inferno exploding out of my hand, destroying the gate before I ran to my freedom in Tenebris. I am The Druid Boy of Lumen, a scoorage amongst the angels.

-------The Dullahan of Tenebris POV-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I tousle my cotton-candy pink hair in anticipation as I walk out of the plane and through a corridor leading to the inside of the airport, the normals, they stare upwards to see my always severed head in my hands. Their eyes widened and they began to shake as a great burst of flame came from where they thought my head should be. They pointed at me, screaming as if they were in excruciating pain and my very existence pained them to the point where they had the nerve to call me out. “Stop it with the screaming!” I yelled at the group, the inferno growing larger and larger until I felt a hand on my shoulder. This hand was soft, yet it was firm and that of sheer discipline. It felt so familiar…

“Xannie, leave them be, they just immigrated from Lumen, so they wouldn’t know what we’re like,” a woman, with my same wavy cotton candy hair, turned me around so I would face her. She was about a foot shorter than I was and had beautiful sun kissed skin. She was my mother. The only person I had in my life. Mom escorted me toward the baggage pickup area, demi-humans on every corner. I saw vampires, yokai, ghosts, sirens, cyclopes, giants, even a few centaurs. However, one centaur stook out to me, she eagerly clippity-clopped as her luggage finally arrived to her arms. The bag was HUGE, large enough to fit a horse! It was a wonder that some normal construction worker built the conveyor belt for something that big. Her luminous chestnut brown hair waved along with her movements as she seemed to gracefully lift the large baggage, a fellow centaur, seemingly her mother shown by her perfect posture and old shoulder padded dress from the 70’s said, “Hana, are you sure you can handle this? Your father and I can help.” ‘Hana’s’ supposed mother folded her hands as if she was about to pray.

“No thanks mom, I can handle this on my own,” Hana replied as she eagerly lugged her bags along, eventually spotting me. I turned my attention to my baggage, a large midnight black bag with wheels and an extendable handle. It floated above me, seemingly on it’s own accord, but, as if on instinct, I turned to the centaur girl, who held her hands toward the bag, clenching her teeth as if she was lifting it via telekinesis. The bag fell with a slam onto the floor in front of my size 14 feet, the handle facing the smoke resonating from my neck. “Hey!” I heard Hana’s voice say as her heavy panting got closer and closer to me.

“.....” I said nothing, staring up to see her smiling… at me? I fiddled with the itchy collar of my white button-up shirt, sweating and tapping my foot against the white tiled flooring. My glasses slipped off of my face, her hand gently clasping them in her shapely hand and handed them to me.

“You could’ve been in big trouble if these fell. My name is Hana, what’s your name mister?” her sparkling grey eyes glimmered with wonder and curiosity as her pointed ears twitched like that of a cat waiting for the right moment to pounce on a laser pointer.

“I-I Uhh… My name is Xanthus, b-but please call me Xannie.” I stuttered, my right hand taking the glasses, my muscular arm extending toward her. I quickly put my glasses on and lifted my head up to face her.

“Ooo!” she giggled harmoniously, my tanned face turning a slight shade of pink. “You’re quite tall if you can surpass a centaur, even though your head isn’t on your neck.” I clenched my fist, my eyes widening in disgust. Was this girl like the rest of them? “Oh dear, I hit a nerve, my apologies, Xannie was it?” she exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her, her expression frantic.

“Don’t worry, just don’t mention it to me again..” I replied. A shadow creeped up behind her, a cloak draped over their face. I could make out a face, in the darkness of the hood, it’s cheeks marked in red. It had markings? Yes, but these markings weren’t any ordinary face paint. The sideways crimson crescents glowed ominously in the shadow… These markings were those of a druid. It seemed to notice my staring, quickly fleeing out the automatic doors of the airport.

“What’re you looking at?” Hana asked, trying to look where I was look, which was towards the exit, advertisements for fast food and the airport itself on the doors.

“Druid…” I whispered, before rolling my bags’ wheels on the dingey star-patterned carpets towards the door, hana following soon after, gasping out in fear.

“You don’t mean The Druid of Lumen?” I froze. The Druid of Lumen was some silly urban legend about a young druid who lurked the streets of Lumen, trying to avoid execution and to escape. He did everything he possibly could, stealing from merchants, even killing when he was desperate. He was considered a symbol of freedom for the people suffering in Lumen, for the ones who could think for themselves, and for the demi-humans.

“Why would he be here?” I asked myself, wondering what would bring him to Orlando, Florida. “He got all the way here from Lumen?” I strutted out the doors, turning my head around to maximize my vision of the area. The Druid was gone… there was only a parking lot buzzing with the honks of cars and the yelling of raging drivers. Once again, I felt that same hand on my shoulder, my head turning to face my mother.

“Xannie, lets just go home now, it’s time…” My mother sighed, escorting me away to her rental toyota. I waved Hana goodbye as we temporarily parted ways.

------------The Druid Of Lumen POV------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I jumped into a taxi the second I found one, the driver saying, “where are you going?”. The car was suffocatingly hot, and a incredibly dingey. Did this guy even bother to take care of his car? I plugged my nose, trying to ignore all the nonsense just this once.

“Take me to the nearest hotel or homeless shelter,” I replied, my face grimacing in disgust, pinching my nose to avoid the smell of rotten eggs and pizza crust. The man simply nodded at my request and began to drive. A cold sweat dripped down the back of his thick neck, his short, partially shaved, curly blond hair drenched from the heat, as I tap my nimble fingers against my lap, patiently anticipating potential betrayal. Back in Lumen, you couldn’t trust anyone, unless they were rebelling alongside you, but here, who knows if I could trust anyone. We passed through the security of the airport to leave the place, the driver reached out his sweaty and bruised arm (Why would this man be so scarred?), placing a card into the slot and pulling it out soon after.

“So, you’re The Druid of Lumen?” the driver asked, as he turned the greyish steering wheel to the left out of the parking lot.

“If I said I was, what would you do about it, mister?” I grimaced, my face and body radiating with heat as I waited for an answer.

“I would say that I’m sorry for the smell, I was reassigned this car for work and well, the last person who drove this didn’t take good care of it.”

“So you wouldn’t take me back to Lumen?” I squinted at him, still suspicious of this mysterious driver until I noticed the bull horns protruding from his skull. That’s when I realized, this wasn’t a normal this was a Demi-Human, a Minotaur to be specific.

“No way! You’re a hero here, a sign of freedom!” The driver’s olive toned, tan face became visible to me in the mirror hanging from the car ceiling. His pretty green eyes glimmered with hope and inspiration, like he idolized me.

“I don’t want you to freak out, but I am The Druid of Lumen.” He gasped, a grin stretching across his face. He radiated no malice, only genuine happiness and excitement.

“Yessir! I won’t fr-freak out! B-By the way, I’m Nuona!” The man, now I know is Nuona, drove by several lights, looking like stars in a line. Stars. I want to reach the stars. I pressed my face against the car window as we passed three other cars, each different in their own ways. Whether it be color, structure, or license plate, they weren’t the same. We eventually drove up to a large building with a sign by it saying “hotel” by it in fancy bold lettering. “Here is where we stop sir. Here’s my number, call me whenever you need my services again!” Nuona says as he handed me a piece of paper with a bunch of numbers and dashes. I felt confused, looking up at him with my glowing eyes wrinkling at the edges from a grin stretching across my face. Maybe I needed to input this number into a phone? I didn’t know. I opened the door with a creak, waving the young minotaur a goodbye before strutting towards the hotel. “He was kinda cute” I thought to myself, shaking it off as I opened the door to the hotel.

--------------Dullahan of Tenebris POV-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walked into the kitchen of our new and empty house. The counter-tops of white marble looked as if they were to fall off the wooden bases. Crumbling. Like porcelain. The white and blue checkered flooring gave a sense of home. “Our home in crete had the same colors as these,” I thought to myself. My grip on my head loosened. I must look. Look at home.

“Xanthus!” My mother yelled, my grip becoming firm once more, “Isn’t this place great? It’s smaller but at least you won’t have to work so hard to support me..” She put a hand on my shoulder, leading me to a large window. The window lead to our backyard which was full of roses, carnations, lotus’s,- in short, it was like a garden of eden. “Look here, this is the beauty of a new life.”

“It’s a fresh start, mom. I’m glad I can live this new life with you,” I say, in awe of the beauty of our backyard. I pressed my face against the window. The colors. They were so much. A rainbow of flowers and plants of all kinds. The sun shined upon me, everything feeling so fresh, making me want to live here. I felt ready for whatever was going to be thrown at me.

Boy was I wrong.