#me now eying the same bag wondering if this is 'bad enough' to warrant taking them

[lurkinghell]

i am having. such a mentally stable day

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hiiii, you know I love angst so can I please request with prompts 22 and 45 from the angst list please? Happy or angst ending its up to you. Thank you!!

Dirty Little Secret “Which part of me wasn’t enough?”

“Would you hate me?”

Warnings; extremely brief mention of torture. Extremely brief mention of ‘Parental’ abuse. Briefly implied smut if you squint at the end. 

Word count:5k

A/n: Just get ready. Honestly. I’m so sorry for how sad this about to be

taglist:  @thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @summer-writes @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrysweasleys: message me if you want to be added to taglist :)

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“For the last time. Please don’t call him my cousin” You pleaded as you sat in the Gryffindor common room surrounded by your friends. George and Fred sat closest to you as Harry was sitting in an armchair across the room, yet again complaining about whatever Malfoy was currently annoying him with. 

“I mean he-” George started. You shot him a glare that instantly made him recoil from you.

“They pretend the Tonks name doesn’t even exist . Why should I claim them?” You muttered out under your breath. 

“Come on, Y/n. we know you’re nothing like him.” George says, leaning over to give you a small peck on the forehead. 

“But what if I was, even a little bit? Would you hate me?” Your voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper. He just frowned at you. 

“You know what, I just remembered I have homework I need to do.” Pushing yourself off of the couch, you snatched up your school bag and headed out the portrait hole, needing to get out of the room. George just stares at the place you just were. He balls up a piece of paper and chucks it towards Harry. 

‘Nice going. You upset her.” Fred piped up. 

“You know how she gets whenever someone brings that up. Like just mentioning it enough will make her go bad.” George continued. 

“I didn’t think she would react like that.” Harry said defensively. “I’ll apologize when she comes back later. Alright?” He obviously felt bad but there wasn’t much he could do about it now. 

You had stayed in the library much longer than you planned. At first just using it as an excuse to leave the common room, but you suddenly realized how much work you had been avoiding. Your last year was not a piece of cake at all. Umbridge constantly looming over you didn’t make things any better. Quickly shoving all of your work into your bag, you ran back to the common room to make sure you didn’t get caught out after hours. The last thing you needed was another detention with the toad. 

Much to your surprise, the group was still sitting in the same position you left them in. A few have dozed off, including George. Stretched out across the couch while Fred was reading some book you couldn’t see the cover of. When you walked back through the opening, a few of them flicked their eyes over to you. 

Fred hit George’s shins and he woke with a start. “She’s back” is all he said to Gerorge. With that, you notice him give Harry an expecting look. Harry cleared his throat, getting your attention. 

“Hey I wanted to say sor-” You held up your hand. Not wanting to bring up the subject again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He tried to argue it further but you just shook your head. He seemed to get the hint that you didn’t want to talk about it anymore and let it drop. You walked over to the couch and leaned down to give George a small kiss. 

“Go to bed.” You mumbled to him with a small laugh, noticing how he was already falling back asleep. 

“Why would I do that when you’re down here?” He said, eyes seeming to be closed. Suddenly his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you down onto the couch with him. You let out a small scream in surprise. 

“Get a room!” Fred shouted at the pair of you. This caused the few people who had fallen asleep to wake up. 

“We already have one. What would you call this?” George joked back, leaving small pecks all over your face and neck as you laughed. You managed to swat him off of you and stood up, straightening your uniform. 

“Well with that amazing display. I think I’m going to bed.” You were breathing heavy and laughing. That was one of the things you loved most about George. He never let you go to sleep anything but perfectly happy. He gives you one more big sloppy kiss, much to the displeasure of the rest of the room, before he also heads up to bed. You should have known things were too good to last. 

The next morning, you, George and Fred walked down to breakfast together like normal. There was an eerie hush that seemed to be over the great hall. It felt like walking into a brick wall with how much tension was in the room. 

“What’s everyone on this morning? Umbridge drop a new decree?” You asked Lee as you sat down at the table. 

“Take a look.” He responded while throwing this morning's edition of the Prophet in front of you. George and Fred both peered over your shoulder as your face dropped. 

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

The heading read. Displayed on the front was a picture of none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, seeming to be trying to bite whoever had the displeasure of taking her picture. You threw down the paper and suddenly felt sick to your stomach. 

“Hey.” George said, grabbing your arm as you turned to stand up. Right as you were about to pull your arm out of his grasp, you noticed your family's large silvery owl swooping down. You caught a letter that was dropped down to you and it flew out of sight. Probably to the owlery. 

Immediately, you noticed your mother's large loopy handwriting on the outside. Still standing, you ripped open the envelope and read the letter. 

“I am sending Nympthadora to Hogwarts to talk to you. Go to Dumbldores office the moment you receive this. - Love mom.”

Your breath seemed to get caught in your chest. Why did your sister need to come to school? Did they think you knew something about the breakout? If anyone needed to be questioning Malfoy. And even that would be a stretch. You looked around and noticed George was staring intently at you. Silently asking you if you were okay, his hand still wrapped around your arm. 

“I..I have to go.” Was all you could manage to sputter out. 

“Are you okay?” His voice was full of concern.

“I don’t know. I’ll talk to you later okay?” You grabbed his hand and gave it a tight squeeze before grabbing your bag and all but running out of the great hall. 

On your way to the headmasters office, you ran into Professor McGonagall. 

“Ah Tonks.. I was just heading to the great hall to look for you.” She eyed the letter in your hand.

“I see you got the letter. Very well, follow me.” You were getting more scared by the second. Never in all your years at Hogwarts have you been in Dumbledore's office. To say you were terrified was an understatement. 

“Sherbert Lemon.” McGonagall said when you approached the gargoyle outside of his office. She waved her hand for you to go up and you had expected her to leave, instead she followed behind you. On the way up you started going over in your mind everything you had done lately. Nothing you could think of warranted all of this. 

Once you got to the top of the staircase, you heard a few voices talking rather loud and fast. You couldn’t make out anything, only that one of the voices was from your sister. You froze instantly, not wanting to deal with whatever was happening ahead. 

“Go on.” McGonagall sighed when she noticed you paused. You stepped into the large round room that was the main part of Dumbledore’s office and the few people in the office looked up. Along with your sister, Remus was with her. 

“Y/n!” She called out and ran to give you a giant hug. You haven't seen her since the summer and if you weren’t as scared as you were, you would have been more excited. 

“We’ll have time for that later, Tonks.” Remus said in a tense voice. She let go but stayed by your side. 

“Well. We shouldn’t wait any longer to tell you. I bet you’re wondering why you’ve been called up here?” Dumbledore asked you. You had suddenly lost your voice and could only nod. 

“You aren’t in any trouble. But that is all the good news I have, I’m afraid.” He paused and gave you a smile that didn��t seem to reach his eyes. “With the recent breakout from Azkaban, Andromeda decided it was time to tell you the truth. Tonks? Do you want to be the one to tell her?” When he said that, Tonks grabbed your hand and gave it three little squeezes, the two of yours sign for ‘I love you’. She cleared her throat

“This really isn’t easy to tell you. Okay.” She took a deep breath and turned to you. “A few years before Bellatrix went to Azkaban. The family discovered she had a child. The only problem was no one knew where they were. Then she was arrested and that’s when they found..Found you.” 

Suddenly you felt very light headed. You had to have heard her wrong. Tonks had said they found you. 

“You had been obviously neglected. Stuck in a small nursery and looked after by only a few house elves. That’s when mom agreed to take you in. Narssica and Lucius were still under heavy suspicion to be working with you-know-who and didn’t need more connections to that side, plus she had only just had Draco. The decision was made not to tell you because she was never really a mother to you. And up until last night, we never thought she would be out of Azkaban.” She looked at you, her eyes suddenly full of tears. She was expecting you to say something but your brain had suddenly stopped functioning. You could only stare at her blankly. 

“The reason why we’re telling you this now, y/n” Remus started. You had forgotten he was there up until he spoke. Your eyes flickered over to him. “Is, since you are of age now, the order is concerned she might come and collect you.” That seemed to do the trick.

“And do what?” Your voice was tiny. 

“We don’t know. We know Voldemort lost a large amount of followers so maybe to try to recruit you.” 

“I would never do that!” You interrupted. He held his hand up to stop you.

“We all know that. You’ve been interested in the order since this summer. We’ve all seen it. But she isn’t known for playing fair. We just need you to be on guard.” He seemed to sag down after saying this, as if a great weight was placed on his shoulders. 

“We just want you safe. If mom didn’t think it was better for you to know, we wouldn’t tell you. But everyone decided it’s better to hear it from people who love and care about you then hear it from her if she got the chance.” Tonks’s voice was soothing. Or at least it should have been but you were still numb from shock. She grabbed the sides of your face. 

“Don’t think for a second that this changes anything. You’re still my sister and I still love every bit of you.” When she said that, it broke whatever you were holding onto and tears started falling from your face. You vaguely processed the others shifting out of the main room. 

“I know your head is probably going to a million different places at once. But this doesn’t change the way anyone looks at you.” She said.

“Did everyone know?” You managed to get out between sobs. 

“Everyone that needed to know, knew. All of the Order. But again, no one looks at you any differently.” You nodded. Whipping away the tears as you started to calm down. It didn’t change anything. But that nagging voice in the back of your head only shouted all of your worst fears at you. You’re no different. Evil is in your blood, not just your family tree. If you’re her kid, then some of the worst blood is in you too.

“Are you okay?” Tonks asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“As okay as I can be.” You say with a slight laugh. You wipe away a few more tears and give her a small smile. 

“You can write to me if you need anything. Even just to talk okay. Anything you need.” She says as she gives you another big hug. This time, you squeeze her back until someone else clears their throat. 

“I do hate to say it but we have to leave.” Remus chimed in. Tonks gave you a look and you nodded. 

“Okay. Seriously write me if you need anything.” Tonks says as Remus grabs her hand. The two of them leave in a ploof of green fire. 

“Well if that’s all, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, I’ll leave.” You say, your mind still playing catch up. McGonagall gives you a sad look and they both say goodbye as you walk out of the office as fast as you can while still being polite. 

You all but run back to the Gryffindor common room trying to beat the tears threatening to start up again.  You barely make it back to your bed before you started crying. Everything you had been scared about fresh in your mind. There really was nothing good about you in the end. How you ended up in Gryffindor was suddenly all you can think of. After a little bit you had cried yourself out to the point of falling asleep.

It must have been a couple hours, you woke up with a start as the image of you in dark black robes burned out of your mind. The sky was just getting dark, making the dorm pink with the sunlight. When you walked up to the sink near your bed, you saw how puffy and red your face was. Sighing, you splashed some cold water on your face before you walked out into the common room. 

“Y/n!” George bellowed when he saw you. “There you are. You disappeared earlier and I haven’t seen you since.” His face fell when he noticed your face. “What’s wrong.” He whispered when you sat down next to him. Of course he would be able to tell right away something was off. You shook your head. 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” And surprisingly he dropped it. You really did want to tell him but not in the crowded common room. 

Days went by and you kept coming up with ways to avoid the topic. It was always the wrong time, it was too crowded, someone interrupted you.Umbridge's rule of boys and girls not being within six feet of each other is also not helping at all. You can’t tell if it was a good thing or not at this point. The longer you went without telling him the more nervous you got, having already come up with a million different ways he’ll react. 

You haven't meant for it to just come tumbling out. Not like that, not in the mean, clipped tone that it did. The two of you stood facing each other, eyes wide and round. He took a second to process the words you had just shouted at him. 

“This is a sick joke right?” His words make your world shatter. You suddenly can’t find it in yourself to meet his eyes as you shake your head. 

“You..You didn’t think this was important to tell me?” He ran his hands through his hair. “Did you really only just find out? Or have you been lying to me this whole time?” You flinch a little at his tone.

“I only just found out the other day. I promise I didn’t li-” 

“You know what.” He started, interrupting you. “I don’t even want to hear it. You swear up and down youre so much different from the rest of your family. And I believed it because I mean, look at Tonks. Look at who I thought was your family. But her?” He spat out. “How can you look at Neville ever again? How can you sit in the same common room as him and just pretend everything is okay?” You felt the tears run down your face. No one looks at you any differently. Tonks’ words from the other day echo in your head. You knew she had been wrong. The only person whose opinion of you really mattered saw you from what you really were. 

“I’m still me.” You manage to say in between sobs. “I’m still the same person you fell in love with. George please.” You grab at his robes as he starts to leave the room. 

He freezes and looks at where your hand grabbed him, like it burned him, like it made him dirty. 

“That’s the worse part.” Was all he said as he pried your hands off of him and gave you a little shove backwards. The action taking you by such shock, you almost lost your balance. You started up at him wildly, tears streaming down your face. A sob of his name left your lips but you could barely understand it and he was already gone. You sunk to your knees. “Which part of me wasn’t good enough?” You screamed at nobody in particular. You never made it back to the common room that night. 

You also never got another chance to smooth things over. To explain to him the way you had planned. The twins set off their bound-to be-infamous fireworks display the next day and they were gone.

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You didn’t know why you came. A small part of you deep down knew why. It had been so long since you had been wanted. Since someone had asked you to be a part of anything. The halls of the manor were as cold as you remember. The few times you had come here as a small child played in your head. Back when the Malfoys were still trying to prove they were good by letting you come over. You now realized it was because you fell into what they deemed worthy of being in the house, and that’s why Tonks haven't been invited. 

Narcissa was still leading you through the house when you seemed to come to your senses. What the hell were you doing?  You didn’t want to be in the house. You wanted to be at the burrow with Fred and George. They don’t want you, remember? He could see what you really are. 

You ignored the voice and focused on how the hallways never seemed to end. The small shadows of house elves scurrying out of your way was enough to make you sick. 

“In here.” Narcissa said when you got to a random room. You took a deep breath before she suddenly grabbed your arm. 

“Think about what you’re doing. Think very hard. Say the word and I’ll let you turn around right now and no one will know. But walk in there and I can’t help you.” She was dead serious. The voice of a concerned person. It warmed you a little bit. 

“I just want to talk to..to her.” You say as convincingly as you can.

“It’s your life. I’m damned one way or another. You on the other hand, you have a choice.” 

“And right now I’m choosing to try and talk to her. I’ll figure it out from there.” She seemed to sag down but composed herself and announced something to the room. You heard a high pitch laughter that chilled you to your spine. She nodded to you and put a should- be- comforting hand on your back as you walked into the room. 

You swear the temperature dropped ten degrees as you walked in. The bedroom was big, like a cavern. A high ceiling with very little furniture in contract to the sheer size of it. A small part of you was surprised to see a bed, thinking hanging from the ceiling like the bat she was, would have been more appropriate. 

“Hi, mom” You said in a dead voice and her laughter echoed off of the walls. High pitched and nailing you to the floor. 

“So they told you after all. How sweet.” Her voice didn’t match her appearance. It was a soprano baby voice, that was almost worse than the gravelly voice you thought she would have. 

She stood up and walked closer to you. Every inch of your body was screaming to run but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Eventually she was standing right in front of you. Her hand reached out to twirl a piece of your hair. 

“Now why did you really come here? I hope you’re smart enough to know I’m not going to start singing you lullabies.” That seemed to be the very question you were asking yourself now. Why had you come? A deep part of you just wanted to have a normal family. Bellatrix was far from that. 

She suddenly grabbed your left arm. “Could it be something to do with this? I don’t think the Dark Lord has sunk low enough to need someone raised like you were though.” She looks over to her sister who is still standing in the corner of the room, tense as a board. “What do you think Cissy?” She says with a slight pout. 

“No.” You said, shaking your hand out of her grasp. “I needed to come here to see what I’m not. I was so afraid of becoming like you, even before I knew, I had to see. And you know what I learned?” You suddenly felt brave. Like everything had finally clicked into place.

“Aw. What would that be?” 

“We make our own choices.” Your next moves were very calculated. You had a few seconds at best as you pulled your wand out of your cloak. 

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Every part of your body hurt. Like you had been in a particularly nasty game of quidditch. You went to open your eyes but instantly shut them at the pain that radiated through your skull. 

“Just let me see her.” A voice called from outside of the room you were in. 

“Why? So you can hurt her even more? George just leave it. She’s not even awake yet.” You recognized the voice as Tonks. Wait if she said George, does that mean? You peak your eyes open just a tiny bit and notice the familiar surroundings of the burrow. How did you end up here? You didn’t remember a lot past the first move. Everything had gone by so fast. 

The door clicked open then shut and you heard, who you assumed to be, Tonks huff. You tried to sit up a little bit.

“Oh. You're up!” She was at your side in a second. “If you weren’t so banged up I would beat you right here.” Her voice held no malice despite her words. 

“Do you want to tell me what the hell happened?” She all but screamed.

You winced at the volume but tried to sit up a little more. She helped you prop up on a pillow. 

“Well.” Your voice was raspy. “I..I don’t know what I was thinking.” You had never felt more stupid in your life. What did you expect to happen? You took a deep breath and told Tonks as much as you could remember. She just stared and you blankly. Looking for something to say. All of a sudden you found arms wrapped around you. 

“You are such an idiot. Do you know that?” Her voice shook with tears. “I guess that explains some stuff too.” She seemed to be talking to herself. “God I could kill that boy right now.” 

“You came here in the middle of the night, bleeding. Half conscious. It was a miracle you were even able to apparate in the state you were. Molly was able to patch you up but you might have a few scars.” She paused. “Well, one really.” With that she pulled up your left sleeve and your heart sunk.

“It’s not what you think. She started the process but didn’t finish it.” You stared at the bumped skin that was clearly a hastily carved dark mark. Looking at that hurt more than anything. Sure it wasn’t the real thing, you needed to fully commit to be able to get one and from what you’ve heard, it’s not a pleasant experience. Knowing you have any bit of that on your body makes you fight the urge to be sick. Tonks rubs your shoulder. 

“I’ll give you some time to process everything.” She gives you a quick peck on the forehead and closes the door softly behind her. 

You start to drift off when there's a small knock and the door creaks open just a crack. You’re half expecting it to be Tonks. But in all reality, the face you’ve wanted to see the most since that awful day greets you. 

He awkwardly stands in the entryway of the door. You can’t meet his eyes, but move over slightly to show he’s welcomed to sit on the bed. The only thing he does is shift his body weight so he’s leaning against the wall directly across from the bed, and gives the door a soft nudge close. 

The silence hangs heavy in the air. All the words you’ve wanted to say hang on the tip of your tongue, you try to hold them back. For once, his face is unreadable as you finally look up at him. You threaten to melt on the spot right then and there, realizing immediately you haven’t lost an ounce of love for this man. If anything, from the dull throb in your chest, you probably love him more somehow. 

A deep sob touches your ears and you suddenly realize he’s crying. 

“George.” You start but he holds up a hand. 

“This is all my fault.”He walks towards the bed and sits down in the space you gave him. “Tonks just came down and chewed me out” 

“She-” Once again he interrupts you. 

“I deserve it. I explained to her what happened because the plan was for you to leave Hogwarts with us that day. That’s what I had even dragged you into that room to tell you.” He laughed a little, not his usual laugh, this was stiff and cold. 

“I was stupid enough to let my own prejudices get in the way of everything that I felt.” He started. 

“I don’t blame you” Your voice was small. You were fighting back tears at seeing how upset he was. 

“No. See that’s the issue.” He grabbed your hands and looked at you for the first time. “I made you think that you were different. Unloveable to the point where you felt like you had to go to Death Eaters to feel like you belonged. I regretted what I said the moment I had time to think clearly.” He took a deep breath. “I was so angry at the idea of it, I never thought to think of how you might be feeling. You never seemed so afraid of me as when I got mad at you. Merlin” He took a deep breath. “I would rather die than ever see that look on your face, let alone know that I put it there.” He moves one of his hands to your cheek, wiping a tear with his thumb in the process. “I love you more than anything y/n. I was a stupid git and I’m more sorry than you can ever imagine. I don’t deserve you accepting my apology but I’m here if you still want. I’m here no matter what.” His words took a few seconds to sink in. 

“You know what I realized?” You said after a few seconds of silence. His face showed he was taking in every word you said. “I was so afraid of becoming like the rest of my family, I never stopped to think that I had a choice in it too. I could never be like them because I’m not them. I mean look at Sirius. If he can be raised in that family and still be as good as he was.” You paused. “I’m good because I want to be. Because there is nothing that is black and white. And most importantly I am not my mother.” George just stayed silent. You took another deep breath. 

“You hurt me more than I can ever explain. And I do still love you. I love you more than anything in this world.” You smiled. “But boy do you owe me a lot of kisses to make up for this.” George sat still for a couple seconds, fully processing your words. Then a giant smile formed on his face. His arms wrapped around you and ripped you up from the bed. Spinning you as you yelped it pain. 

In an instant, his lips crashed to yours, swallowing whatever sound you made. He was everywhere all at once. Hands gently exploring and your hands fused into his hair. He touched a spot that made you wince particularly hard and he separated from you just the slightest bit. 

“Marry me.” He said, panting. You laughed, a fuller laugh than you had in months. “I’m serious. I should have asked you that day.” You just wrapped a hand in his hair. 

“After all of this is over. I just might take you up on that offer Weasley.” He smiled once again before reconnecting your lips. You ignored the pain. After all, he had a lot to make up for.

[uwua3]

Hello! I'm a new follower and I just love your writing so far!! You're really good at depicting The Whole Scene™ so you made me love my favs even more 😳 It's like my heart melts when I get to the extra soft parts 💖 If it's alright, may I request some fluffy hcs of Banri and/or Juza with a soft/baby-ish s/o who likes cute things? Or in general an s/o who's kind of opposite to either of them 👉🏻👈🏻 Thank you! 💞

hi!!! welcome to my writing blog~ :D i’m so happy you said that 🥺 (i appreciate the trademark no Suing in this household) i’m so glad when it gets soft it makes your heart go 💕💞💓💗💖💘💝 always feel like that!!! i’d be more than honored to baby the two tough boys of autumn~ they are secretly Baby no i do not take criticism but you’re welcome!!!

summary: this is the one time major misunderstandings work out for the best

warnings: swearing

author’s note: hello, everyone~ it’s been 4 days since i last posted a fic TT i’m so sorry!!! i hope this makes up for the absence~ it’s a bit long! please love banri and juza with all your heart ♡ fair warning, i design both readers to have dresses on but everything else is gender–neutral :D

word count: 6,482 (total) — 3,532 (banri), 2,950 (juza)

music: liar liar – oh my girl (banri), just right – got7 (juza)

sugar, spice, and everything nice!

🍁🥇 settsu banri

banri was thrifting and saw the most god–awful, terrible piece of clothing he had ever had the misfortune of seeing in his life

it was a bublegum pink sailor uniform esque shirt, embellished with the most pastel ribbons and lacy accessories ever, and was decorated to put harajuku to shame

“who the hell would want to buy this shit?” banri muttered to himself, holding it up to grimance at the girly details that hang from the ugliest shirt he had ever came across. before he could put it back to hide amongst the clothing rack, a gentle, barely noticeable tap on his shoulder made banri turn his head with a glare

“what—” banri’s eyes widened, his jaw slightly dropping. oh my god, if there was a human embodiment of the fucking shirt he was holding, you would literally be it

you were nervously smiling at him, clad in a pastel pink lolita–styled dress, with even more bows at the corset bodice and ruffles at your poofy skirt. you had the largest singular lace bonnet in your curled hair and adorned the biggest, widest circular glasses (they had to be fake). you clasped your hands together with a high–pitched laugh, banri wanted to disappear and never come back to the store again

how could people like you just exist? you walked around like a doll everyday and for what? banri looked down at his clothing for a second, all black again. maybe, he shouldn’t be talking if he was like death everyday...

“sorry~ but are you interested in that shirt?” you asked cutely, batting your eyelashes as you looked up at banri. he blinked, not realizing he was still holding the fashion industry’s worst abonimation as he quickly tossed it towards you, not bothering to check if you even caught it

“no, bye.” banri forced out, moving from the aisle to leave the godforsaken pastels and bright colors. it was all giving him a headache, there was no way this color spectrum ever existed to someone and they liked it. everybody move over because banri was gonna puke

banri flipped through more clothes, pushing through the racks with ease, trying to push the mental image of pink out of his mind until something landed on his head

quickly pulling it off with a scowl, banri deadpanned at the shirt. pink, sailor uniform, ugly ribbons and bows, check. it was that shirt again... what the—

you stood next to him, with the most angelic smile possible despite the passive aggressive look in your eyes. banri noticed your hair was slightly messed up, that he must’ve done something. he never thought he’d fight a pastel lolita in the middle of one of his favorite thrift stores, but here he was, glaring down at you like it was a big deal

“what do you want?!” banri cursed, about to throw the shirt back to you before you forced it in his hands, surprising him with the amount of force your short self managed to produce. you smiled even bigger, and banri suddenly knew he couldn’t cause a scene because no one believe him if you started a fight

“let me pick your clothes!” you offered, yet there was no room for disagreement. oh god, this was revenge for screwing up your look, wasn’t it? banri blanked again, about to tell you to fuck off before he called security (yeah, security on the most non–threatening person here), before you shoved another outfit into his arms

“go change! i want to see you in it!” you insisted, banri’s eye twitched as he took in the colors. all various shades of pink... you did know there were other colors right?

maybe it was because he knew you would start a scene if he didn’t try, but banri mumbled something about annoying people and their loud fashion sense before slipping into a dressing room. you clapped when banri begrudgingly agreed to it, pissing him off even more

(you didn’t know why you were forcing this stranger to be pastel for once. one look at his all–black attire and you felt a part of your soul die for a second)

when you heard the most dragged–out, emphasized swear behind the door, you knew you had to see it

“are you okay in there~?” you asked, waiting patiently outside with a devious smile. revenge was sweet, you almost forgot about how that shirt had messed up your hairstyle for the day

(banri suddenly regretted ever messing with you, you were the devil in pink)

“i know we just met, but fuck you.” banri deadpanned, stepping out from behind the curtain with the resignation of a quitter. you threw your hands over your mouth, stifling your snickers as you observed him top to bottom, wondering how you even fathomed such a creation

banri stood before you in the same sailor shirt, ribbons and bows alike, that somehow fit him. you had given him basic pink shorts that clased with his giant black boots (he made a stomping sound whenever he walked)

“i hate this, i am never wearing this again.” banri admitted without difficulty, expecting you to go away so he could shop in peace but you giggled, nodding in satisfaction at your mistake. he couldn’t believe it, he was embarrassing himself and sacrificing his dignity just because some moral conscious was aware he probably ruined part of your fit

“i’ll buy it for you!” you said and banri pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing with so much exhaustion even though it was the afternoon. is this how sakyo felt dealing with three kids all day? banri was this close to calling him up just to apologize for all the batshit crazy things he’s done

“no.” banri stated, not offering an explanation before turning around, about to head back into the dressing room before you stopped him, pouting your lips with a stubborn look

“come on! why not? i’ll do anything!” you pleaded, giving him your biggest puppy dog eyes as you kept repeating “please~” loudly. banri was about to tell you off before he noticed the store customers glancing at the odd duo, groaning before he rubbed his face

“anything?” banri asked, realizing his mischevious smirk was back on his face as you narrowed your eyes at him, wondering what the hell he was planning

when you hesitantly nodded, banri wolfishly grinned as he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms and looking down at you (you would’ve burst into laughter at how banri tried to look intimidating in pink if you weren’t too plagued by your surprise at his sudden attitude change)

“okay, let me pick your next outfit.” banri said and you winced at the memory of his previous outfit, considering your options before shaking his hand, knowing whatever was about to happen would be one for your social media

it only took about two hours before you actually agreed to try anything on banri picked. it was all animal print, mismatched neon colors, and flannel. you refused every single time he held anything up, bruising banri’s ego even further

“jesus, you have no taste.” banri complained, just wanting to see the most pastel person he’s seen wear something normal for once. you two bickered easily, fighting like there was no tomorrow and warranting nervous glances from the store employees (who nearly alerted security when they saw you almost knock over a whole display chasing after banri)

finally, banri chose something you wouldn’t be caught dead in. it was close to what he had before, a black turtleneck with a silver–zip bomber jacket. he was nice enough to choose a black pleated skirt for you to wear with black oxford that had 3d white daisies

you actually liked it, believe it or not

in return, you adjusted your pick for him (much to banri’s relief when he muttered “thank god” as you put the pink sailor shirt back). you adjusted the theme to be a mixture of black & pink, picking a pink sweater with a black stitched heart surrounded by lace that read “i’ll kill you” and a pink button down underneath. you let him wear basic black pants (just so he wouldn’t have actually killed you) and found the cutest pink sneakers with black shoelaces!

by the time both of you finished, banri didn’t seem as mad and actually nodded at your choices

“not bad, punk.” banri joked as you swatted at his arm, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes at your antics. you two made your way into opposite changing rooms and went out at the same time, staring at each other wide–eyed for about three seconds before banri pushed his finger in the center of your forehead with a smirk

“see! you don’t look as bad now.” banri winked as you nearly kicked him, rubbing your forehead with a frown. you two fought all the way to the cash register, paying for each other’s new outfits as you wore them out the door, holding your originals in a bag

“happy now? gotta go or else my friends are gonna kill me.” banri rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into his pant pockets as he was about to go the opposite way. you grabbed his sleeve, impatiently shoving your phone in his face as he adjusted to seeing his own pissed off expression stare back at him

“you have to take a picture with me!” you insisted, your bubbly demeanor really not fitting your “goth” approach (courtesy of banri, of course)

banri glared, knowing this wasn’t apart of the deal before you feigned sadness, wrapping your arms around yourself as you looked around like it was really unfortunate

“oh... are you not photogenic? that’s too bad...” you mocked him, pretending to not notice banri’s fists clench as he furrowed his eyebrows. of course he was good at taking photos! he’d show you, alright

“give me your phone.” banri demanded, taking it without a warning and holding it at a distance with an effortlessly cool pose, doing his usual smirk with a casual peace sign

“say ‘worst day ever’.” banri snapped the picture when you got into frame, putting your chin on his shoulder due to your height difference as you smiled cutely, contrasting his entire vibe

when you actually went through the selfies, they were perfect. damn it! of course he was good at everything, including somehow making black look good on you and be the ultimate photographer

“let me tag you, these are actually...” you were about to say something else until you noticed he was walking away, not bothering to say goodbye as you called his name

“yo, banri! what’s your instagram handle?” you yelled, holding your phone up. banri didn’t even look behind him, just throwing up a single middle finger towards you as he turned the corner. what a typical teenage boy

it was so like him, you didn’t even bother chasing after banri as you posted the set of photos you took with him with the caption “worst day ever with this emo punk, someone find him for me”

when banri made it the dorms, he took out his phone for the first time in forever and felt the vibrations. he never got this many notifications, itaru was probably telling him to get online or he’d beat his ass—oh

oh, you didn’t

kazunari (of course it was him) had tagged him in a familiar picture, with too many emoticons and exclamation points to begin with. banri scrolled through the comments, all complimenting his cool face despite being in pink (banri already knew that) and... wait... shipping you two?!

you two were completely different! if you two stood next to each other, you’d be two opposite ends of any spectrum possible. yet, banri couldn’t help but read all the comments on your post, saying how you two looked good together

banri zoomed in on the photo and moved to your face and huh... maybe they were onto something...

banri clicked on your profile and as expected, it was all soft like sanrio personally made it. you were an angel in each of your pictures, posing with stuffed animals, pastel café sweets, and anything that looked like it came out of a kid’s show. banri was scrolling mindlessly, screenshotting some as he slouched on the sofa, exhaling sharply through his nose at some childish pun you had in your captions

when banri was near the beginning of your feed, it had happened. he accidentally tapped too fast (blame it on his gamer hands), liking your picture from years ago

banri paused. after a minute, banri slowly unliked your picture, shut the app, and threw his phone across the room. it landed on the other couch with a thump as banri slid down the seat with the loudest groan ever, covering his face as he refrained from screaming

that’s what he got for stalking your entire fashion page despite hating your style

the damage had been done. you followed him and instantly dm–ed him with the full, unedited selfies of you two

(banri didn’t follow back until like, a month later for no reason other than he was petty)

banri became your immediate go–to fashion guru, believe it or not. moving past his horrific sense of animal print, he actually wasn’t that bad at picking clothes (banri said it was something about growing up with an older sister)

whenever you needed advice on an outfit, you sent him a text and got a response within minutes (the more he hated it, the more you wore it). any time you went to another up and coming clothing store, he was by your side (unwillingly holding your bags with multiple threats). banri even took your pics for your page, pretending like it was a huge nuisance whenever you asked anyone to take a photo (they always came out awful and he claimed he was tired of hearing you whine 24/7)

you and banri’s interest in fashion was the foundation of a competitive and sarcastic friendship that formed between you two. you exaggerated your pink clothes by making sure to be as pastel as possible whenever you hung out with him, and banri made a point to be all–black and dark down to his silver earrings despite the weather

you posted him more and more on your socials despite his style clashing with your feed. your followers seemed to love him, hyping up his coolness even if you two bullied each other in the comments like an old married couple. it was becoming expected to see banri’s account tagged every time you gave him credit for the post (he always used it against you just to make you mad)

over time, when banri went to see you, he didn’t insult your style anymore even if he tried to (his insults were even half–assed). he took your bags on his own accord and acted like they didn’t weigh a thing. he started taking more photos of you on his own phone, like it wasn’t a big deal he had shocks of pastel throughout his rather dark camera roll

banri didn’t know when it happened, but the moment he looked at the pink sweater you bought him the first time he met you and didn’t react, he knew

oh shit, he didn’t hate pink (or you) anymore. he might have even... liked it

(he might have even liked you)

it was nearly closing time, the employee about to close up shop before banri was seen sprinting towards them, barely out of breath as he skidded to a stop near the concerned worker (understandably so, since it was dark and a whole teenager nearly trampled them)

“oh? banri? what are you doing so late?” the employee recognized the regular customer and banri almost threw up at what he was about to request. he took a moment to compose himself before banri sighed, gesturing towards inside the store

“you remember that really ugly pink sailor shirt that is probably a fashion crime?” banri asked and it didn’t take long before the worker nodded, even grimancing at the memory of such a loud shirt

“yes, no one is really willing to buy it—” the employee was interrupted by a wad of money from inside banri’s wallet as he went through it, wincing at his own purchase that he clearly didn’t want

“i’ll take it. keep the change.” banri went home that day with the same pink shirt he swore he would never wear again

the next day, banri was dressed and the whole dorm went silent. no one dared breathe a word, and banri rolled his eyes, crossing his arms

“what’s wrong? never seen a man wear pink before?” banri raised his eyebrows, casually getting ready to go see you with his backpack strapped. once again, everyone was staring at him (when he left the dorms, the room burst into hysterical laughter)

when you saw banri in that shirt, you suddenly knew. it was as if his behavior made sense, this is way of telling you he didn’t hate you as much as he acted to

as he came up to you pretending like he was still cool in the most pastel pink shirt ever, you couldn’t help but grab him by the sailor collar and give him something long overdue

(the whole mankai company spammed your page with fairy cyberbully comments and likes when you posted a picture of banri in the sailor shirt with the caption: “best boyfriend ever”)

(you ended up keeping the sailor shirt, banri claimed it suited you a lot more than it did for him) (damn, not even one insult about how ugly it was when you expressed how much you loved it)

ever since, your feed became more of punk pastel than anything. anything you wore, banri most likely had in black. you two even shared jewelery and banri often mixed up your earrings with his own (you loved his piercings and often bought the most intricate ear cuffs just to see them on him)

despite your opposite styles, you guys actually shared many of your items together like clothes, accessories like bucket hats and backpacks, even make up! (it took quite some time before banri accepted you painting his nails though, at first it was black, now he allows the occassional pink middle finger if you ask)

(banri liked it the most when you two had matching nails, it was just satisfying to see when holding hands)

you guys were also that gamer couple. you know what i’m talking about, if you guys had a gaming room together, half the room would be pastel pink and his set up was a basic all black

(you two had matching cat headphone sets, yours obviously the pink ones and banri pretended to hate his own pair of ears)

(they really weren’t that bad, he even began wearing it around his boys despite the jokes)

(“shut up, bastard! my partner likes them!”)

as expected, you two got stares every time you went out in public. while you were bright and happy from the anime sparkles around you to your adorable, enthusiatic energy, banri was always by you looming over everyone with a sharp glare and even more aggressive tongue

but this was unexpected: you had banri whipped. wrapped around your finger, even if he would never admit it

(he could go one moment cursing someone out, threatening a fight before he talked to you with a quieter, more relaxed tone. of course he could start shit with you, but for some reason, his voice and demeanor automatically became nicer when he saw you)

(this meant he could never stay mad at you for too long)

an example of banri being absolutely soft for you would be the time you were about to dye your hair and he wanted in

while he was helping you equally do the style and making sure it fit your liking, you giggled at the sight of your boyfriend in the mirror, focusing intently on your hair and the two seperate dyes

“ri, have you ever thought of black hair?” you asked nonchalantly as banri brushed the dye on your hair, giving him a moment to think as he shrugged

“eh, i already dye my hair. never thought about that color.” banri responded, already too busy making sure your hair was completely covered (he was a good hair stylist even if he had never done it before)

“what do you think about matching hairstyles?”

it felt like deja vu. when banri walked into the dorms again, everyone was staring at him. except this time, it wasn’t his sweater (he was back to all–black this time), but his head

oh my god, his hair. his vibrant, half–pink and half–black hair now

“you like that person so much! you dyed your hair that shade of pink?!” practically everyone in mankai was aware banri was whipped for his one and only angel, even if it looked like he came out of hell himself just to be with you

whenever banri saw pink now, he didn’t hate it anymore, and he especially didn’t hate you

🍁🍰 hyodo juza

when juza saw you, he felt like he was on a sugar rush from how cute you were

it was another day helping the director with her grocery shopping and an extra amount of time allowed the two to visit the new bakery that opened downtown

while izumi was making small talk with the server, juza awkwardly hung behind her as he tried to not make it obvious he just wanted to eat every single dessert in the family business

as he was counting the tiles on the floor (how did they design them to look like it was made out of candy?!), a swish of a puffy skirt moved past his line of sight as juza glanced up, feeling like he had downed a whole box of those valentine’s candy hearts at once

you were a waitress, happily bringing customer orders to their tables with the cutest smile ever. you wore a mint green & brown uniform with a big bow at your dress shirt collar, floating around like a fairy with a trey at your hand and gracefully taking requests in the other. if “you are what you eat” was true, you would’ve only ate sweet foods because you were that adorable

then, juza noticed you had some really nice hair clips and thought they were super cute

when you looked up from writing something on your notepad (he noticed it was really elegant cursive), you caught his eye and it was like love at first sight for juza

for you, not so much

you had made eye contact with the most intimidating, tallest boy in the entire bakery. you nervously smiled, waving before hurrying into the kitchen, feeling his stare on your back as you hid in the break room with a sigh of relief

just your luck! you had met some guy who probably didn’t even like sweets, he looked like he wanted to fight you or something! why was he staring at you like that? you anxiously peeked your head from the door frame and went back immediately when you noticed he was looking for you

oh no, was some thug trying to fight you? in a bakery?

when izumi finished up her conversation and bought a speciality cake to go, juza obediently followed her outside as he glanced back behind the counter, trying to spot your unique hair accessories again

as the bell above his head rung, he knew he had to come back to see you and find out where you bought those dessert–themed clips

at first, it began with casual visits, pretending to survey the area after explaining his association with mankai in the most bare minimum way possible. you didn’t struggle convincing someone else to cover your shift quickly when you noticed the scary tall guy up front. then, it became ordering random things to go and hoping he’d at least see you to ask a simple question. you did everything to hide behind tables, hoping you wouldn’t have to confront the gangster

(“he’s back again?! how many more desserts can he order?” you whined, poking your eyes over the front desk to see his frame entering past the window)

for some reason, juza couldn’t stop thinking of your hair clips. they were sweets, for goodness sake! nothing had made him happier, they were so tiny and adorable, they brought him instant serotonin even if he had some tough image

(maybe you were also super cute too, and he just needed an excuse to see you)

after weeks or so of failed attempts to catch you working, juza began sitting down and eating in the bakery, much to your misfortune

“how can i avoid him now if he spends a hour here every afternoon?!” you panicked even though juza’s back was turned to you. he happily ate his food, getting distracted by the quality of the sweets to notice you were basically staring at him

“are you sure he wants something from you? he comes here every day, he seems like a nice boy.” the owner vouched in his favor after talking to the offstandish teen at the register. sure, he was a bit rough around the edges, but he was much more respectful than any of the rotten kids who came in the shop!

ugh! the baker didn’t get it, there was no way someone like that didn’t want to start something with you!

out in the dining area, it took all the sugar in his body to actually make juza ask for a very specific server in detail. when someone had brought him his strawberry milk, juza cleared his throat with an awkward attempt at a smile (it looked more like a grimance than anything)

“uh... do you know if, a server with candy hair pins is here?” juza murmured, looking down at the table with an embarrassed blush as the waiter didn’t think anything of it, calling your name without another warning. you squeaked, dropping behind the counter as juza tilted his head in confusion

(why were you hiding? was there something wrong? what happened? juza thought, unaware he was actually the problem)

when you heard a series of footsteps stop near you, you hesitantly looked up from your crouching position and saw juza staring down at you with a concerned expression. his eyebrows were furrowed and he had his hand out

you took his hand and closed your eyes, fearing for your life. was he gonna yank you to your feet? push you over? trip you so you’d fall for real? you weren’t ready for a fight!

yet, none of that happened. juza gently lifted you up and made sure you were fine by observing your outfit to see if anything was wrinkled, muttering something about being careful and staying safe

you blinked, trying to process how incredibly wrong you were. juza was perhaps the nicest customer you had met in your entire career as a server, even taking the time to actually confirm you were okay with no ill intentions whatsoever

(suddenly, you remembered all the times you actively avoided juza and felt the guilt as he nodded at you, unintentionally lowering his height so he’d seem more approachable)

“sorry to bother you, but uh...” juza trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase his next sentence. before you could respond, his hand landed on your hair and a beat of silence passed between you two

“cute.” juza forced out, and wanted to slap himself. cute?! no, say cute hair clips, ask where you got them! juza was internally panicking and you were doing the same as you looked up at him with wide eyes

it was so awkward and humiliating, juza couldn’t pull his hand away because his whole body was on shutdown. oh god, what could he do now? this was possibly the worst first impression in human history

“i’m cute?” you warily asked, staring at him with a slightly amused expression as juza blanked. you felt his hand subtly shake as it was your turn to be concerned over how red his face was

“no—i mean, yes, but, not like that! i mean...” juza finally lifted his fingers to poke at your hair decorations and you let out a sound of understanding, pointing at your own clips

“oh? you mean these?” you asked and juza nodded, like he was extremely thankful you understood him. he pushed his hands behind his back, nervously leaning back and forth on his feet as he looked away like the cupcake display was the most interesting thing in the world (it probably was)

“where did you, uh, get them?” juza quietly questioned and you giggled, patting them proudly as you stood a little bit taller from the unintentional praise

“i made them! thank you for asking!” you smiled, about to move away before juza accidentally held onto your arm, releasing his hold when he saw your shock. he definitely needed to learn how to be more socially acceptable one of these days or else he was gonna get in big trouble

“can i commission you?” juza muttered and there began your friendship with the big tough delinquent juza who really adored small, cute things (like yourself!)

any time juza was particularly fascinated with a dessert on display, you would show him a sketch sample of accessories you could make based on his favorites. surprisingly, juza was very comfortable with expressing his love for sugar because you felt the same way!

every day when juza came to visit the bakery, he’d always have something new to say about your homemade accessories and seemed fascinated by your adorable fashion sense

(he had been particularly obsessed with these dangly earrings you made that looked like little dango sticks. it was like a child had been playing with your ears the entire time)

it was about a month later when you made the final designs of the hair clips juza ordered and you knew they were your best work yet

you had multiple favorite desserts and fruits of his molded in clay or shaped in resin on a various sizes of clips and pins. you decorated them with the sole goal in mind to see how pretty they would look against juza’s dark purple hair

this would be the first time you two met out of the bakery, so when juza came and saw you didn’t look any different (hair accessories and all), he thought you were so sweet

juza’s entire face practically lit up when you presented him the clips. foods like ice creams, lollipops, and popsicles were all accessible for him as he struggled to find the words to show his appreciation for your work

you two sat on a bench in the park as juza gently took the clips, turning them carefully (you looked down and almost laughed at how tiny they looked in his hands)

when you asked for a model picture for your business page, juza’s shaky hands were clearly untrained in the art of hair clips as he put one in an awkward position and tried to look up to see what it looked like

“uh... i’m not very good at this.” juza admitted, embarrassed as he stared at his feet. it didn’t take you long to take over, moving closer to giddily pin juza’s hair back

(it was soft, you were almost jealous of how everything about him was the embodiment of “gentle giant”)

“it’s okay! here, let me.” you insisted and juza gratefully passed you your work, staring at everything but you as his cheeks became even redder. you were so close and leaning over him, trying to put them in cute positions as your fingers ran through his hair

(juza felt like the first time he saw you; like he was on a sugar rush as he noticed how nimble your fingers were on him)

when you were done and leaned back with admiration, juza looked at you with a small smile as he reached up to touch the designs you put in his hair, feeling the handmade pins against his calloused fingers

“cute~” you lifted your phone up, about to take a picture. juza didn’t know why, but he covered the camera with his palm as he lowered it, looking at you with the same focus he had everytime he saw you

“you’re cute.” juza froze. oh gosh, did he actually just confess that?! you were surprised, feeling his hand over yours. yet, you didn’t want to pull away. in fact, you wish your phone was out of the way so you could completely hold his hand

“you’re cute, too.” you responded, using your other hand to brush the loose strands of hair back from his face as you smiled

when juza came back to the dorms with the cutest, most pastel, childish hair clips, no one had time to say a word as he ran to his room and threw himself onto his bed. juza rolled onto his back, placing both his hands on his hair and putting them in front of his face as if he couldn’t believe it

he just held your hand! he was your boyfriend now! you liked him even if he was the complete opposite of you! juza silently shoved his pillow over his face, kicking the air uselessly

as your boyfriend, you and juza had much more in common than you thought. juza loved your cute sense of style, always trying his best to compliment your aesthetic by wearing more of your hair accessories and modeling for your page (apparently, he had the perfect hair color for it)

(he even let you put his hair down for certain posts, his usually slicked–back hair laying flat against his forehead as he didn’t look at you, his head turned as he blushed. “it’s not that bad, right?” he’d ask and you always complimented him no matter what)

although juza kept his rather grunge neutral look, he admired the way you were so bright and liked calling you dessert–related endearments just because you were the embodiment of sweets. he 100% thought you were the most adorable thing in his life and had to be made of pure sugar

in order to support your style, juza liked coordinating his clips with yours. he’d text you the night prior just to gain insight on what type of look you were going for and come to your bakery with something similar (even if your coworkers liked poking fun at his serious, stoic face that only changed around you)

he also came in with a new phonecase and you nearly fainted from how cute he was. he had a case that had those little squishes on them, he admitted he liked feeling them whenever he got a little anxious (it was such a cute habit, you had bought him a whole stock and it was like a little kid on christmas morning)

(you also made earrings out of a pair, he would not stop touching them)

whenever he noticed kids staring, juza never failed to advertise your business like his life depended on it. yes, your customer base actually did grow, somehow thanks to your most unlikely model yet

however, juza wasn’t the only one who had adjusted his style, you did too!

you two actually had had matching letterman jackets, yours in pink & white with a “j” in large letters and his black & grey with your first name initial as well. sometimes, you guys even switched just for the fun of it

you even got to wear his usual “10” purple jacket every now and then, even though he never said anything about liking you in his clothes. he’d just casually leave it around your place, acting like you wouldn’t notice the dark outerlayer in your mass of pastels

as you two were dating, juza wanted to be the best boyfriend possible for you as he wondered what to get you for your anniversary coming up. as juza subconsciously rubbed his clips with a thoughtful look, he suddenly had a lightbulb moment

that’s it! he should make you something in return

when you began seeing juza less and less around the bakery, you were nervous as what he was up to. juza barely hid anything from you since he was such a poor liar, so it was clear when he avoided talking about what he did after school now

in reality, juza was becoming frustrated with how big his hands were. every time he tried to make something, he was too forceful and caused the line to snap. the amount of beads he had lost at this point was laughable as juza tried to not knock over the bracelet–making kit on the table

(it took yuki coming by and taking pity on his crouched over form for him to go somewhere, muttering to himself about how he needed this to be perfect or else he’d die)

(juza always had a strong respect for jewelery makers, but it increased much more once he realized how clumsy and small his attenton span was)

just when you thought juza had forgotten your anniversary coming up, he randomly texted you out of no where asking if you were free. you looked at your shift and agreed, knowing you needed a break and not questioning a thing

when you walked out of the bakery, juza was already there with a small bag, his foot tapping against the sidewalk. before you could even ask how he’d been, he shoved it into your hand with an embarrassed blush (he was so nervous, he swore his heart skipped a beat)

“happy anniversary.” juza mumbled when you opened the small mesh, drawstring bag with a gasp. you slowly pulled out the beaded bracelet with a shocked look, seeing multiple silver dessert–themed pieces hang. there were mainly purple and black beads with four white blocks spelling out “juza”

juza showed you his wrist and he was wearing a beaded bracelet in a similar style, except his was your aesthetic with various pastel shades and your name on his string ending with a cute heart

you teared up and juza winced, rubbing the back of his neck as awkwardly looked away

“that bad, huh?” before juza could die of embarrassment, you shook your head and pulled him into a hug, surprising him when you stood on your tippy–toes to give him a kiss on the cheek

“i love it, this is the sweetest gift ever.”

“only for you.”

when juza slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, you knew you were never gonna take it off

who knew the scary, intimidating boy from the bakery was the sweetest person alive?

[cake-writes]

Compromise (Part Three)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Bucky, Ex-Relationship, Co-Parenting Drama, Angst, Fluff, Separation Anxiety

Summary: You didn’t want to trust him again, because every time you did, Bucky broke your heart just a little more. Deep down, though, you wanted to get along with him. You wanted to be amicable. You wanted your daughter to know her father. You’d always wanted that. It just required a compromise.

Interlude #1 / Master List

To say you slept terribly was an understatement.

You were too nervous, too keyed up to sleep. Not only were you worried about Winnie, but the prospect of car shopping with Bucky was an additional stressor. Why had you even agreed to it in the first place? Yours was just fine. A beater, sure, but it still ran. Kind of.

Deep down, you couldn’t help but appreciate that he cared about Winnie’s safety. You just didn’t like the nagging. He’d been on your case for the last few months about your car, ever since you got into an accident on the way home from the grocery store. A fender bender, nothing serious. It wasn’t even bad enough to warrant repairs – just a few dents and scratches on your rear bumper. The other driver gave you a couple hundred bucks for damages, which you used on birthday presents for your little girl.

That said, you weren’t poor, just frugal.

Most of Bucky’s child support – a couple thousand dollars a month – went straight into savings for Winnie’s college fund. The rest was used on doctor’s appointments and medicine. Despite the fact that she also had the serum in her veins, she still got sick like a normal child. Between croup and colds and ear infections, you’d dealt with it all; even her asthma, unpredictable as it was. It flared up at the strangest times, not from overexertion or allergies like one might expect, but randomly and you hadn’t yet figured out the cause. Neither had her doctor, let alone Bruce for that matter.

Of course, the serum did affect her some. She grew slightly faster than her peers; although she was a little over three years old, now, physically she was more like four. Then again, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise, as your pregnancy only lasted eight months instead of nine. Technically she was a preemie but she certainly didn’t seem like one, having been born at a standard six pounds, five ounces.

Standard. Normal.

When she ran, it was at a normal speed too, and she definitely couldn’t lift anything heavy. She had a tendency to trip and fall flat on her face, so her reflexes weren’t exactly enhanced like Bucky’s, either, though her skinned knees did seem to heal faster than the norm.

To you, Winnie was a normal little girl through and through. She played with dolls and stuffed animals, drew with crayons and markers, and had temper tantrums on a regular basis. She liked to dress like a princess, watch Disney movies, be tucked in and read to. She even snuck into your bed at night when she had a nightmare.

She was normal. Mostly.

The fact that her Mommy and Daddy were separated made her a target in preschool, and you hated it. Her friends often babbled about their parents, plural, whereas Winnie usually only got to talk about you. You knew how much it bothered her. 

It bothered you, too.

Morning came before you knew it, and you were anything but bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. By the time you left for the compound, it was a little after nine and you’d already downed about a gallon of coffee. Even though you’d been a barista for almost a decade, you never really used to drink coffee much until you had Winnie. Then, all of a sudden, you completely understood why it was so popular.

There were no hassles at the gate this time. Bucky’s name held enough sway that you didn’t have to repeat yourself after yesterday. You kind of liked it – always had, if you were being honest. Not that you’d ever admit it. Especially not to yourself.

Yawning, you made your way up the handful of steps and through the glass doors. You’d texted Bucky right before you left and although he wasn’t there to greet you this time, you vaguely remembered where to go. At least you could take the steps more slowly this time, now that you weren’t being watched.

The compound was incredibly quiet for a Sunday morning in comparison to the tower. There was never a dull moment there, but here, even with all the buildings, it wasn’t noisy at all. Instead it was tranquil – relaxing, almost. You could even hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside as you knocked on Bucky’s door.

On the other side, you picked up the deep rumble of his voice. It wasn’t quite loud enough to make out, but you could easily assume what he’d said when Winnie asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Mommy,” you answered cheerfully.

You heard her squeal, and then she relayed the information like Bucky had no doubt asked her to do. “Mommy’s here! Can I open it now?”

He spoke again – louder, this time, closer to the door. “Sure, princess.”

There were a couple seconds while she fumbled with the handle; she was barely tall enough to reach it at home, and this one was the same. Bucky might have tried to help, you weren’t sure, but soon enough the door was pulled open and a little brunette blur promptly attached itself to your leg.

“Mommy!” Winnie said happily, peering up at you with her big blue eyes. “You’re back!”

“Of course I am, sweetpea! Did you miss me?” you asked with a smile.

While normally you would have ruffled her hair, you noticed that she had two braids on either side of her head, secured by tiny pink elastics you didn’t recognize. They were very cute, but who’d done them up for her? Natasha? You were sure that none of the boys knew how to French braid. Why would they?

That particular thought made you wonder if there was something going on between her and Bucky. She was here yesterday, too. She’d tell you if there was, though, wouldn’t she?

“I missed you lots, Mommy,” Winnie told you, letting go of you to hold her arms up in the air. She wanted to be picked up.

You, of course, hoisted her up with ease and propped her against your hip, holding her little body just a smidge closer than yesterday – not tight enough to hurt, but you were ecstatic to have her in your arms again. “I missed you lots, too, baby.”

Then you finally looked over at Bucky and found him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. The way his tight black t-shirt strained over his biceps made you feel a little hot under the collar, but what really caught you off guard was how his lips were just slightly curled up at the corners, like he was trying not to smile.

You made a joke in an attempt to distract yourself from the fact that he was always too damn attractive for his own good. “So can I come in? Or do I have cooties?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, then, blinking like hadn’t really thought of it – and then he stepped aside to allow you entry. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“If anyone has cooties, it’s Daddy,” Winnie made a point of saying. “He’s a boy.”

You let out an undignified snort as you crossed the threshold. “Is that right?”

“Yeah! Boys are yuck.”

“Boys are yuck, huh,” Bucky remarked, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Then he muttered under his breath, “Sure hope it stays that way.”

That comment coupled with the suddenly wary look on his face made you laugh outright. Bucky hadn’t made you laugh in a long time; you were too busy arguing with him to do much else. “Isn’t it a little early to be worrying about that?”

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “you’ve already got her college fund set up. Don’t talk to me about ‘too early’.”

You huffed, but it was in jest. “That’s different.”

“Yeah?” At that, he offered you a roguish grin that made your heart skip a beat. “How’s it different?”

Now, it wasn’t witty banter, per se, but something was different for sure. The dynamic had shifted between the two of you, somewhere between the time you told him goodnight and your mid-morning arrival. It was a small change, but you could feel it in the air: a distinct lack of tension.

Unfortunately, it also made an indignant flush come across your cheeks. He was teasing you. He hadn’t done that in a long time, either.

“It just is,” you responded unhelpfully, setting Winnie down on the sofa before you sat down next to her. You purposely kept your back facing him to conceal the fact that you were blushing like an idiot and you didn’t even know why.

No, that was a lie. You did know why.

This felt entirely too familiar.

Thankfully, Bucky seemed to pick up on your change of tone and let it go in favour of asking, “Have you eaten? We only got up a few minutes ago.”

By ‘we’ you assumed he meant Winnie, because he never used to sleep well. Nightmares usually kept him awake, and while you knew he wasn’t a morning person, he got up at the crack of dawn anyway. Bucky told you once that he liked to watch the sun rise. The peace and quiet helped him think.

“Not yet,” you answered, fussing with the wrinkled collar of Winnie’s dress. Another distraction. You’d dropped off a few different outfits for her in an overnight bag last night, along with her inhaler, some toiletries, and of course Mr. Squiggles. Now she was dressed in her Sunday best, but in all actuality, she probably just wanted to wear a pretty dress.

“Daddy said he wanted to make Mommy’s favourite pancakes!” Winnie piped up, and you instinctively tensed at the admission.

That’s right. It was Sunday.

Bucky awkwardly cleared his throat, but made no attempt to correct her.

There was a brief pause – stunned silence – until you regained your bearings enough to ask, “Did he, now?”

“Uh huh!” Winnie told you, nodding excitedly. “Blueberry!”

Your brows rose as you turned to him. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Why do you think I used to make them?”

Your heart instantly warmed at his admission – and ached, because of the memories. He was on missions more often than not when the two of you were together, but without fail, whenever he was home on a Sunday, he made blueberry pancakes. His Ma’s recipe, he said.

They were the best pancakes you’d ever eaten.

“Well,” you began nervously, “it is Sunday.”

He met your eyes, then – gentle, warm. Just like how he used to look at you.

“Daddy,” Winnie whined. “I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you chimed in, feeling a little lighter than before. “I’m hungry, too.”

Bucky grumbled an easy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he got to work, but his tone didn’t match the amused expression on his face. You didn’t fail to notice the light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

That was when Winnie started to tell you about the show she was watching on Netflix, the same cartoon you’d glimpsed yesterday. You were interested in what she had to say, of course you were, but not as much as you normally would have been because her father looked so fucking good right now.

He’d remembered. As innocent as that was, your body’s reaction to it absolutely wasn’t. Call it Pavlovian conditioning, but the first time he made those pancakes for you was the morning after you first slept together. That was the same night Winnie was conceived. 

When Bucky pulled out a frying pan from one of the cabinets and set it on the lit stove, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt stretched over his muscles underneath, not to mention those sweatpants which did nothing to conceal his fantastic ass.

You’d already seen and sampled what he had to offer, but hell if you didn’t want to have another taste anyway. Not that you ever would.

He started to lay out all of the ingredients on the counter, including a punnet of fresh blueberries but you were more focused on the way he worked with such finesse, like making breakfast for the three of you was a normal, everyday thing for him to do.

It was, once.

Then, as Bucky mixed everything together in a large bowl, he finally glanced up only to catch you staring.

Shit.

You immediately tore your eyes away, heart pounding a frenzied tattoo within the confines of your chest and you made sure not to look back again. Instead, you feigned interest in the show Winnie was babbling on about, squeezing your thighs together to alleviate the sudden ache in between.

You needed to stop.

He wasn’t good for you. He wasn’t good for Winnie.

Right?

But your thoughts just kept drifting back to him anyway. You couldn’t help it. It was during times like these that your memories got the best of you, because you knew he was more than capable of being a good father if he wanted to be. You’d seen it not only while you were pregnant, but during the first couple of months after Winnie was born.

What’s worse was that Bucky was capable of so much more, too. He could be downright wonderful. A good boyfriend. A supportive partner. An attentive lover. He was all of those for you once upon a time.

It wasn’t until the pancakes were done and you finally met his eyes again from across the kitchen table that you knew you were in too deep. You’d never gotten over him, not really – and being here with him and your daughter, so sweet and domestic for the first time in years, was what made you finally realize that.

You still wanted to be with him. 

You wanted to be a family.

Part Four

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Uncercover - Ch 7

Title: Love Undercover

Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas

Pairing: Greg Sanders x Nick Stokes

Rating: Mature

Summary:  In part one of this series, Nick and Greg get sent on a special undercover mission by Grissom and Brass, an undercover mission as a couple at an all exclusive couples resort. Their mission is to find their targets and keep them safe while maintaining the illusion that they are a happily married couple, but they may end up finding more then they bargained for while at Lovers Lane Resort.

AO3

Masterlist 

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter seven

     “Nick!” Greg moaned out his name as his head fell back against the floor of the cabin, back arched into Nick, and chest heaving. 

     Nick was laying on top of him, his chest heaving in time with Greg’s beneath him. He ran his hand down Greg’s leg that was lazily wrapped over him, “That was amazing.”

     Greg chuckled, “I will never get enough of this, Nicky.”

     “I don't think I’m ever going to get enough of you calling me Nicky,” he shifted slightly off of Greg to hover over his face and kiss him, “you know, we could just stay in the cabin today,” he moved his lips to his neck, “mess up the bed some more,” another kiss, “keep our clothes off all day.”

     Greg moaned and squirmed under Nick, tightening his fingers in his hair as he continued kissing him all over, “As much as I would love to do that, we can't,” he sighed as Nick’s lips ghosted over his belly button, “we need to stick close to Oliver and James.”

     “Yeah I know,” he licked a trail from Greg’s belly button up to his lips and kissed him again, “but maybe when we get back and have some time off, we can spend a full day at my place, you and me, no clothes…”

     Nick wiggled his brows at Greg with a smirk and he wrapped his arms around his neck, “That sounds like a fantastic day, but for now,” he pulled Nick in and kissed him soundly. 

     The two started to get heated again as they rolled around on the floor, kissing like their lives depended on it, clinging to each other. They were starting to get hard again, starting up a slow grind, when, “Breakfast!”

     The knock on the door of the cabin sparked them both into a panic. Nick looked down at Greg with impossibly wide eyes, “It's the lady from the front desk!”

     “Answer it!”

     Nick scoffed at Greg as he shuffled out from under him and stood up, “Why me?! I’m naked!”

     “So am I,” he laughed, grabbing the robe off the floor and holding it over his chest, “hurry, she's gunna wonder what's going on.”

     He shook his head and turned to answer the door as she knocked again, and opened it part way, slightly hiding behind it. “Good morning,” she chirped.

     “Uh… g-good morning.”

     A shuffling behind Nick and a light giggle had her shifting her eyes behind him just in time to see the completely naked backside of Greg ducking into the bedroom. She just smiled and handed Nick the tray who muttered a quick thanks, and before he shut the door she added, “Sorry for interrupting, but I just wanted to let you know that if y’all are late for the first round of activities this morning, it's totally fine. This is a place for couples to come and unwind, so we completely understand. You wouldn't be the first and you certainly won't be the last.”

     She flashed him a quick wink and walked back down the porch to continue her rounds, leaving Nick to stand wide eyed in the doorway, while Greg was nearly in tears behind him.

     He snapped himself out of it and quickly closed the door then placed the tray on the table. Greg was still laughing in the bedroom, laying on the bed with his arms over his eyes, so Nick ran inside and jumped on the bed. He crawled over Greg and straddled him, removing his arms from his face and laughing himself. “She knew!”

     He only continued to laugh as he said, “Yes, but she also said that this is a place where couples come to unwind….” He then rolled over and pushed back, rubbing his ass against Nick’s growing cock, pulling a moan from him, “So I say we take her advice and do just that.”

     Nick grabbed his hips, rutting slowly up against him as Greg reached for another condom and passed it back. Nick ripped the package open and rolled it on, lining himself up with Greg’s still loose hole. “How are you still ready to go after all the sex we’ve had since last night?”

     Greg rubbed his ass against Nick again and tilted his head, “I could ask you the same.”

     He leaned into Greg, running his tongue along his back and up to that sweet spot on the back of his neck he loved so much. He closed his eyes as he felt his cock twitch when Nick sucked on it and whispered in a husky voice, “You just drive me so wild, darlin, I can't help it.”

     In one swift movement he pushed all the way into Greg, both boys throwing their heads back with a sultry moan of the others name.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Grissom sorted through the papers in his hands as he walked through the halls. He breezed past lab techs as he marched the maze he had memorized in his head, all the way into a familiar office.

     Without knocking he walked in and sat down, placing the papers on the desk, and a hand over his eyes. 

     “Anything?” 

     “No, Jim, I've got nothing.”

     Jim sighed and turned away from his computer, folding his hands over the table and leaning towards Grissom as he spoke. “I just got off the phone with Judge Howard. Another letter showed up on his porch this morning, again threatening James, I put a rush on it. But I don't know where to go with this Gil. We've got no leads so far, Judge Howard has no idea which ex con he put away could be behind this. Has trace gotten anything yet?”

     “Not that I've heard yet,” he shook his head, “something’s gotta give, Jim. We can't keep this up forever.”

     “I know, and I'm sure Nicky and Greg wanna come back and get back in the field.”

     “Yeah,” he grumbled and leaned on the arm of the chair, “hopefully something will come up on the letter you sent to trace and we can bring them home.”

     A knock at the door gained their attention and they both turned to find Hodges.

     “Yes, Hodges?” 

     “So, I processed that letter from Judge Howard's house that came in this morning, and I got a partial which kicked back a match on codis,” he walked in and placed a file on the table between Grissom and Brass. 

     Grissom leaned over the file on the table and read back the name, “Tyler Watkins. Ex con with a rap for petty theft and escalating to armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon.”

     “Yes,'' Hodges nodded as he took the seat next to Grissom, “but I did some checking and he has zero ties to Judge Howard. In fact, the judge that put Mr. Watkins behind bars was Judge O’leary. Judge Howard never came within three feet of this guy's cases.”

     “So how does that help us, Hodges?” Grissom held a questioning hand out to him.

     “It doesn't,” he smirked, “but it at the very least gives you a starting point, right?”

     “It gives us reason to warrant his arrest and holding.” He turned then to Jim with a look, and he just nodded as he reached for the phone.

     “I'll have him brought in,” he placed the phone to his ear and dialed, “yeah, I need a Tyler Watkins brought in for questioning on the Judge Howard case, immediately.”

     He hung up and met Grissom’s expectant eyes. “I'll meet you in interrogation in twenty minutes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “So, Tyler,” Jim drawled, leaning across to the brunette sitting across from him, “you're a convicted felon, charged with armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon, but I didn't think someone with as impressive of a rap sheet as you would stoop as low as idle threats.”

     “What are you talking about?! I didn't threaten nobody.”

     “Mr. Watkins, do you know a man named Bruce Howard?” Grissom tried this time. Sitting casually at the table, legs crossed and arm resting loosely across them.     “Never heard of him.”

     “Thats funny,” Grissom opened the file in front of him and tossed a bag with the letter across, “because we found your prints on this envelope that was delivered to Judge Howard’s house this morning. A letter that threatens the life of his son, James Howard. So tell me, if you don't know Bruce Howard then how did your prints end up on this envelope?”

     Tyler stared at the envelope on the table in front of him for a moment before punching the air in front of him. “Man, I didn't do anything!”

     “Then how did your prints end up on this envelope!” Jim leaned further across the table as he shouted, “If you don't tell us, the evidence will rat you out, and I will take personal pleasure in making sure you end up right back in your old cell block. I'll even throw away the key myself, cuz you see, Judge Howard is a personal friend of mine.”

     “Look, all I did was deliver the letter,” he raised his hands in surrender, “I don't know the guy, didn't even know the name of the guy who lived there. I was just handed an envelope and an address and told to deliver it before nine this morning.”

     “That's it? Just a hand off?”

     Tyler leaned into Brass with a curled lip and growled. “I owed money to some bad news, this was my way out alive. I deliver the letter, my debts free and clear.”

     “Did you deliver any other envelopes to this address?” 

     He looked to Grissom this time, still sat back in his casual position, and shook his head. “Naw, just the one.”

     “And who was it that asked you to deliver this envelope to the Judge’s house?”

     “I don't know his name.”

     “Convenient,” Brass chirped.

     Tyler smacked his fists on the table and stood, hovering over Brass, “I don't know the guy’s name, alright!” The guards stationed at the door moved forwards to intervene but Grissom raised a hand to stop them.

     “Mr. Watkins, is there anything you can tell us about the man who gave you this letter?”

     He looked over to Grissom, calmed, and sat back down. “He had a green hat with a logo on it. That thing the lucky charms guy has on the commercials.”

     “A four leaf clover?” Grissom asked with a raised brow.

     “Yeah,” he pointed at Grissom, “that's the thing. And he wasn't no man either, he was a kid, maybe twenty-five at most. But that's it. I was in and out, grabbed the letter and delivered it in no less than fifteen minutes. Now can I go?”

     Jim just waved a hand at him and the officers at the door escorted him out.

     It was silent for a minute before Brass asked, “So that's it? That’s all we've got to go on here? A kid with a lucky charms hat?”

     “Four leaf clover, Jim, not lucky charms,” he eyed Jim, then turned to him fully, “he said he was in and out in fifteen minutes right? So let's get a search going starting at Judge Howard's house, anything within a fifteen minutes drive, and see if we can't find a store with this logo.”

     “Alright,” he nodded as he stood, “i'll get some uniforms on it, I'll call you if they find anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Nick, Greg!”     The two boys turned in the direction of their names being called and found James and Oliver waving them down. They ran over, hand in hand, and stood with the boys.

     “Sorry we’re late guys,” Nick drawled, trying not to smirk.

     “Well it seems like you had good reason,” Oliver reached out and pulled Greg’s slightly unbuttoned shirt to reveal the skin underneath and laughed, “showing off some love bites there, Greg?”

     Greg smirked, not even bothering to try and hide his smugness unlike Nick.

     “Not just some,” James chuckled, turning then to Nick, “I uh, think you missed a spot there, boss.”

     “Did I?'' Nick turned Greg in his arms and pretended to examine his purposefully exposed chest. “Look at that, partner, you're right. Guess I'll have to fix that.”

     Greg giggled as he pulled him in closer, flush against him, and started kissing his neck. After a few moments of letting Nick have his fun, and some awes from James and Oliver, he pushed Nick away and said, “Alright, alright, let's get going, we should pick an activity and get a move on. We can continue this later.”

     “Mmm,” Nick hummed, finding his way up to Greg’s lips and kissing them, “you know we will.”

     Greg laughed against his lips and kissed him once more before turning to James and Oliver, both staring at them fondly. “So, what are the plans for today?”

     James grabbed the itinerary out of his pocket and handed it to Nick, “We were hoping you guys would be down for the pottery class this morning, and there's a baking class after lunch.”

     “Right,” Greg nodded, wrapping an arm around Nick, “and didn't you say there was also a bonfire tonight?”

     “Yes!” Oliver jumped over to stand beside Greg, “And pottery class is going to be starting in five minutes so we better hurry or there might not be any seats left.”

     As Oliver started hopping away he latched onto Greg’s arm and started pulling him slightly ahead of the others, though it took quite a bit of effort to pull him out of Nick's tight hold so he could whisper to him.

     “So,” he drawled, “seems like the talk went very well last night.”

     He wiggled his brows at Greg and he just chuckled. “It did go very well.”

     “Well do I get any details, or are you gunna hold out on me?” 

     Greg leaned in a little, looking back over his shoulder at Nick and James chatting behind them, then turned into Oliver, “Let’s just say that I didn't know that man could move his hips the way he did last night!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     They made it to the pottery class just in time and managed to get seats beside each other near the front. Everything they needed was already set up, clay, water, carving tools, and of course one wheel and two stools.     Nick led them over and sat Greg in the stool closest to the wheel and sat on the stool behind him, immediately leaning over his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. James and Oliver sat beside them and shortly after, the instructor walked in and to the front of the class. 

     “Alright, I am Emily, nice to meet everyone, and welcome to pottery class.” She looked once around the room then sat behind her own wheel at the front. “Today we’re going to start small with some bowls, so first thing’s first, let's turn on the wheel.”

     She showed them where the power button was and Greg reached over to turn it on.

     “Alright, now that you’ve  gotten past step one, step two is to make sure you have a decent amount of water on your clay and then, very slowly, push your foot down on the peddle and start turning your clay.”

     Greg wet the clay and then turned back to Nick, “Wanna work the peddle?”

     “I got it,” and he pushed down… way too hard.

     The wheel spun into overdrive, shooting sludge all over Greg and Nick. He took his foot off the peddle in a panic and in the silence of the room Greg started howling with laughter and Nick soon followed, the sound completely contagious.

     “Lightly, Nicky, lightly,'' Greg chuckled as he wiped the mud off his cheeks.

     “Okay, let me try again.” 

     Greg braced himself but thankfully Nick managed to press light enough this time that it didn't shoot mud all over them. Then the instructor went on with the lesson.

     “Now, start in the middle of the clay using your thumbs to press down in the center, and cup your hands around the outside to shape the bowl.” Nick and Greg watched her intently before they decided to attempt it.

     “Okay, Nicky, let's do this!”

     “Go ahead, darlin’, i'll follow your lead.”

     Greg slowly reached his hands forwards and started to form the bowl… kind of, then tilted his head back to Nick. “Get in here, Nicky, I know how much you like to get your hands dirty.”

     Nick hummed and slowly ran his hands down Greg’s thighs, then back up towards his crotch whispering in his ear, “I’d much rather be using my hands for other things right now.”

     Greg sucked in a tight breath then turned his head towards Nick’s who started devouring his lips. Greg lifted a hand up to Nick’s neck to pull him in closer, and Nick didn't even care that Greg's hand was covering his neck in thick sludge from the clay as they continued to makeout.     A smack of clay hit Nick in the cheek and he pulled off Greg’s lips with a smack and a laugh turning to the couple beside them. “Get a room!” Oliver laughed as he hucked another piece of clay at them.     “I’m pretty tempted,” Nick wiggled his brows at Greg and he laughed and turned back to the work.

     “First things first, Nicky, let’s finish our bowl,” then he leaned back into Nick's neck again to whisper, “but hold onto those other thoughts for later.”

     Nick moaned softly into Greg’s neck then leaned in to help him mould the clay bowl. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “It's beautiful.”

     “A piece of artwork if I do say so myself,” Nick nodded along with Greg as they both gazed upon their finished piece. 

     They both broke into uncontrollable laughter unable to hold it back any longer or keep a serious face. It was the worst excuse for a bowl they had ever seen. It was uneven, tilting to one side, and at some point Nick’s hands had found their way back to Greg’s crotch and what was supposed to be smooth sides ended up looking more like pleats. 

    James and Oliver's bowl looked significantly better than theirs, it was actually round for starters.

     “That's uh…” James stifled a laugh as they came to stand beside Nick and Greg, “that's pretty good guys.”

     “It's terrible,” Greg laughed, running a hand down his face, “maybe we can put our keys in it or something.”

     He leaned back into Nick's arms and Nick's head instantly nestled into the crook of his neck, arms around his waist. They laughed over their failed bowl for a few more minutes before Nick glanced at his watch and looked over to Oliver and James. “It's just about lunch, y'all ready to head over to the food hall?”

     “If you guys don't mind, i think I’d like to go back to the cabin and change first,” Oliver laughed reaching a hand up to Nick’s collar where Greg's hand had smothered it in clay, “I think you guys could use for a clean up too.”

     “You're probably right,” Greg nodded, taking Nick's hand and walking out of the pottery class with their bowl, “we still have about forty minutes until lunch. How about we shower and meet then?”

     “Sounds like a plan, we'll meet you guys at the food hall.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     A clay covered shirt was flung across the cabin, hitting the wall with a smack as Nick pushed Greg backwards into their room. He whipped his own shirt off as Greg’s legs hit the bed and he fell backwards, his hands quickly undoing his pants as Nick climbed on top of him and started sucking on all the bruises from last night.

     Greg arched his back and wrapped his legs around Nick's waist as he ground hard down into him, making him throw his head back with a moan. “Nicky, we shouldn't be doing this right now, we…” He moaned as Nick ground down again, “We have to be with James and Oliver. And lunch is in half an hour.”

     “It'll be fine,” he licked a trail up from Greg’s ear to his lips, dipping his tongue into his mouth then pulled back to whisper against his lips, “We’ll make it fast, shower, then be back in time for lunch.”

     “Oh,” he wrapped his hands around Nick's neck and tilted his head with a smirk, “can you make it fast, Nicky?”

     “I really don't want to,” he leaned down to nibble on Greg’s ear, “I’d much rather take you torturously slow,” he moved his lips to his neck, “take my time and make tender, tender love to you.”

     “Mmm,” he hummed into Nick’s mouth as he took his lips again, “you don't know how much I want that right now, but,” he moved his hands from Nick’s neck down to his pants and started undoing them, “we now have twenty-five minutes and still have to shower in that time. So let's get a move on here.”

     Nick laughed and kissed him once more before kicking his pants off while Greg did the same, then climbed back on top of him. “How about a quick hand job before we shower then?”

     “Oh, yes!”

     Nick laughed, “We haven't even started yet, Greg,” he slowly slid his hand down between them, taking both of their hard and leaking cocks in his hand and stroked once. The friction had both of them groaning, Greg's chest flexing under Nick’s touches. “Oh, Greg,” Nick continued to stroke them together, picking up the pace, “god you make me so crazy.”

     “Nicky,” Greg moaned, wrapping his legs tighter around Nick's back to get better leverage to thrust into his hand in time with his strokes, Nick doing the same thing. “I love you so much.”

     “I love you too, darlin’,” Nick leaned down to kiss him again and sucked in his moans as he stroked them harder, faster. 

     Both of them were so close to the edge, their thrusts becoming frantic and scattered, moans and groans mixing as their tongues tangled. Nick’s hips stuttered as he leaned heavier on Greg, “I'm gonna come, Greg.”

     “Me-ah,” he threw his head back as Nick squeezed, “me too.”

     And before either of them could say another word they were covering their chests. Nick collapsed onto Greg's chest and laid there for a few minutes while Greg ran one hand through his hair, and the other up and down his back. 

     He leaned in to place a soft kiss on Nick's head, “We should get going.”

     He hummed as he lifted himself up, their chests sticking together as he lifted Greg with him. “How much time do we have to shower?”

     Greg glanced over at the clock on the wall then back to Nick, “Maybe five minutes before they'll be expecting us at the food hall.”

     He shrugged as he scooped Greg up into his arms and walked them towards the shower, “It was worth it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

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Tags: @panchostokes @greggonpancho @cadenceh2o

[the--sad--hatter]

Paired Up - Chapter Two (Bucky x Reader)

Chapter 2/5

Previous Chapter 

FANDOM - Marvel MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Smut, Swearing, Alcohol

DESCRIPTION -

 If only you had known that Bucky knew sign language...

If only Steve Rogers wasn't such an evil mastermind...

If only you weren't stuck in a loveless (fake) marriage with the man you hated...

If only your hormones weren't so traitorous...

If only... 

Chapter Two

You dragged your suitcase into the common room and after checking that it was only Sam in there, dramatically flung yourself onto the sofa.

 “I’m a good person, I don’t deserve this.” You whined petulantly into the couch cushions.

“You’re an ex-mercenary…” Sam pointed out, turning away from the tv.

 “Emphasis on the Ex.” You rebutted, sitting up.

 “Still, maybe this is Karma.” He suggested.

 “Nothing I have ever done warrants being married to Bucky ‘I’ll make your life a living hell’ Barnes.” You gasped, feigning offense.

 “True, true.” Sam said, nodding in agreement.

 “I can’t believe that nobody told me he understood sign language.” You sighed, remembering the awful moment that your life had come crashing down around you.

 “It wasn’t that bad, you just said he was pretty. You can think people and pretty and still hate them with every fibre of your being. Taylor Swift is pretty, I still hate her.” Sam consoled.

 “Sam… It’s just me here… You can admit you’re a Swifty.” You snorted.

 “Her songs are catchy ok?” He said defensively and you held up your hands in mock surrender.

 “You’ve got a point though. So what if I objectively think he’s pretty? It’s not like he caught me saying anything truly embarrassing.”

 “Like the fact you walked into a wall when you saw him working out shirtless in the gym?” Sam asked.

 “One time Wilson and we agreed to never speak of it again.” You grumbled.

 “Or that you’ve had at least three vivid sex dreams about him?” He continued.

 “I need to stop telling you stuff.” You said.

 “Remember the time you crawled through archive footage of him from the 40’ so you could do a side by side comparison of his ass to see if it was a super soldier thing?” Sam carried on, ignoring you.

 “That was for science! The great mystery of Bucky’s Booty.” You insisted.

 “And?”

 “It’s not the serum, Barnes just has an amazing ass.” You told him, sighing.

 “You think I have an amazing ass?”

 Yet again, your heart stopped. You slowly turned around, like you were in a horror movie to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe casually and smirking at you.

 “How long have you been standing there?” You whispered fearfully.

 “Long enough to know I need to look into getting a restraining order against you.” He said flatly.

 “Oh no.” You groaned.

 “All this time, I thought you hated me and it turns out that you’re my biggest fan.”

 “I am NOT, I’m just a fan of….”

 “My ass?”

 “Did you know he was there?” You demanded, turning back around to look at… an empty chair?

 “Oh, I hate him.” You snapped.

 “Do you? Or are you secretly harbouring a crush on him and stalking him in your free time?” Bucky asked.

 “Dreaming about someone isn’t stalking them!” You defended yourself.

 “You dream about me?” He asked, grinning like he’d just won the lottery and you belatedly realised that he hadn’t actually heard that part of the conversation.

 “About killing you.” You quickly said.

 “Is that the only thing you dream about?” He asked lowly, leaning closer to you.

 You fixed him with a glare that usually had enemies running scared but he didn’t so much as blink.

 “I will stab you, I swear I will.” You vowed.

 “I didn’t figure you were into knife play but whatever gets you off doll.” He quipped and you made a low noise of disgust.

 He chuckled and pulled a couple of fake passports out of his pocket and tossed one at you.

 “Nat had these done. Apparently we are now Johnny and Lola Rogers from Brooklyn New York. We are madly in love, newly married and on our honeymoon. So, wifey, shall we go?” He asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

 You’d been briefed, you were packed and the quinjet was waiting. There was no more stalling to be had. You ignored his outstretched hand and got up, grabbing your suitcase and storming away.

 “Allow me darling.” He said and grabbed your suitcase from you, lifting it up like it weighed nothing.

 You flipped him off and meandered slowly behind him, trying to draw out the short walk outside.

 “You guys ready to go?” Steve called as you walked up to the Quinjet.

 You glared at the Captain and steadfastly ignored him.

 “Hey Nat, are you still an assassin? I’ll pay you to kill me right now.” You called as you walked up the ramp.

 “Why bother when you’re about to suffer such a slow and amusing death?” She responded, smirking at you and settling into the co-pilots seat next to Clint.

 You walked around the sports car that had been parked in the jet and took a seat beside it, choosing to ignore all your so called ‘friends’ since they were taking so much joy in your misery. You narrowed your eyes at Steve and Bucky who were having a hushed conversation as they walked onboard. Steve passed something to Bucky and the brunette super soldier immediately came over you and knelt in front of you and cleared his throat, holding up the wedding band.

 “Will you…” He began.

 “Just fucking give it to me.” You snarled, snatching it off of him while Steve, Clint and Natasha chuckled.

 “So romantic. You’ve really made me the happiest man alive.” He scoffed.

 You growled in annoyance and decided to sit in the car instead, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door closed. You already knew everything you needed to know about the mission, so there was no need to suffer through any more extended proximity to Bucky. Instead, you could sit and stew in the car.

 After about fifteen minutes of reliving the series of embarrassing events in which he’d found out about your pesky appreciation for his physical attributes you started to nod off, until someone knocked on the car window. You opened your eyes to see his annoyingly handsome face and rolled down the window.

 “What?” You asked shortly.

 “Saw you were falling asleep, so I came to remind you not to have anymore dirty dreams about me. We’ve got company.” He said, winking at you.

 You gave him a cold look and put the window back up. He chuckled and opened the door to your exclamation od surprise and indignation.

 “Here.” He said, shoving his wadded up coat behind your head as a make-shift pillow and slamming the door closed again.

 You frowned at his retreating figure in befuddlement. Since when was he thoughtful?

 Well, since when was he thoughtful towards you? You put it down to nothing more than him getting in character and closed your eyes again, letting yourself drift back off to sleep. You were so tired you didn’t wake up when the jet landed, or when Bucky got in the drivers side or when he started the car and drove it down the ramp. You didn’t wake up until you were approaching the luxury ski resort.

 “Hnnmphgh.” You muttered as something flicked you on the cheek.

 “Darling wake up, we’re here.” Bucky said loudly and you opened your eyes to see his hand, flicking at your face.

 “Fuck off Barnes.”

 “Johnny… and we’re in love so be a bit nicer to me.” He chuckled.

 “Ugh, I will. When we get there and not a second before.” You decreed.

 He pulled up at the main entrance and an actual team of bellboys descended on the car. You got out at the same time he did, tossing the keys to a bellboy/valet.

 “Action.” You said under your breath and turned to him with a dazzling smile.

 “Baby, it’s even more gorgeous than the brochure!” You said excitedly as he came around the car and put his arm around your waist.

 “Only the best for my beautiful wife.” He said, gazing down at you like a man who was really in love.

 “Mr and Mrs Rogers, welcome to Chedi Andermatt. Congratulations on your marriage.” One of the men said and you and Bucky turned to him with matching smiles.

 “Thankyou, we’re very happy. Well I am at least, are you happy my love?” Bucky asked, looking at you.

 “So happy, happiest I’ve ever been in my life! Why wouldn’t I be?” You gushed.

 “Well we hope you enjoy your stay, and thank you for choosing to share this experience with us. Mrs Rogers would you like to wait in the lounge with a complimentary glass of champagne while your husband finishes checking you in and we have your bags sent up to your room?”

 “Go on sweetheart, I’ll be right there.” Bucky said, pushing you towards the lounge.

 “Don’t leave me alone for long Johnny, I’ll miss you.” You said, blowing him a kiss.

 You heard his fake, convincing laugh as you accepted the champagne and settled in front of the fireplace on the lounge chair. You looked around in awe and wide eyed wonder, or at least that’s what anyone watching you would think. You were mentally mapping the layout and studying the staff. Satisfied with your findings, you sipped the champagne.

 You’d only been playing your role for a few minutes and you already felt ill. Alcohol was a necessity at this point. You stood up and moved closer to the fire, grateful for the warmth. A pair of arms snaked around your waist and despite the highly convincing flesh glove over his hand, you could feel the stiff, unyielding metal.

 “Von Straughten checked in yesterday morning, he’s in room 24.” Bucky whispered, nuzzling into your neck.

 You shivered in the fake lovers embrace and he of course noticed. You felt his smirk where his lips were pressed into your neck.

 “And what room are we in?” You asked.

 “The Furka suite.” He informed you, releasing you and offering you his arm.

 “Ooh fancy.” You said quietly, linking your arm with his.

 You passed your empty glass to a dutiful member off staff was hanging around as Bucky led you towards the elevator. All the way to the room you played the part you’d been assigned, leaning your head on his shoulder as the elevator ascended. The second he unlocked the suite you sprang away from him and inside. You just wanted to get away from him but when you saw the room your jaw dropped.

 It was warm, cozy and luxurious all at the same time.

 “Look at the bed!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the sheer size of it.

 You ran into the bathroom excitedly.

 “Look at the bath!” You called loudly.

 “Can you calm down you godman child? It’s a room, just a room.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

 “You know what Barnes? Fuck you.”

 “On the bed or in the bath?” He asked.

 It took you a second to realise what he just said and you threw the room service menu at him. He caught it without flinching and casually perused it.

 “We should go down to the restaurant, start scoping out the place.” He decided.

 “Fine.” You agreed.

 You dragged your suitcase over to the bed and started unzipping it to find something to wear to dinner.

 “What?” Bucky asked when you made a shrieking sound.

 You pulled out a line of condoms and he snorted at first but even he was taken aback when you kept pulling them out, like some kind of smutty magician.

 “Just how much sex do you think we’re going to be having doll?” He asked.

 “None! This wasn’t me!” You insisted.

 “None? Are you sure about that? You telling me you didn’t pack these either?” He asked, reaching around you to pull a black lacey thong out of the suitcase.

 “Paws off my panties Barnes.” You snapped, snatching them back.

 “So they are yours?” He asked smugly.  

 “Pervert.” You muttered, shoving them under a sweater.

 “Prude.” He shot back.

 “I am NOT a prude.” You said.

 “Then how come I’m not having any sex on my honeymoon?” He asked with a wounded look, sitting down on the bed.

 “You can have as much sex as you like, just not with me.” You told him, finding a suitable dress and pulling it out of the suitcase.

 “I can feel the love.” He snorted.

 You gave him a one fingered salute and stomped over to the bathroom, slamming the door.

 “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He shouted and you groaned and opened the door again.

 He was dangling the thong from his fingers with a shit eating grin on his face.

 “Unless you’re planning on wearing nothing under the dress?” He asked.

 “Ugh. I fucking hate you!” You hissed, slamming the door again.

 “Does mean you aren’t wearing any underwear to dinner?” He yelled and you opened the door and stormed over to him, snatching your underwear out of his hand and storming away again.

 You slammed the door for the third time and resisted the urge to bang your head against it.

@boxofteenageideas @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @anamcg317 @thosesexytexasboys @musingpredilection @spnrvt

[myfeels-havefeelings]

Day 3 - Two Can Play at that Game

Azel regarded Callen cautiously. The young man had been known to cause trouble, with complete disregard for the wellbeing of others. He’s been in and out of the correctional facility many times, now. Too many times for someone of his age. But he supposed it was warranted, considering all he's said to have done. What Azel didn't understand was why they sent Callen to him.

“So... You’re supposed to be my new therapist or something?”

“I'm not a therapist, or anything of the sort. Please don't refer to me as such.”

Callen shrugged. “They made you sound like a therapist, my bad. So what are you, then?”

“Nothing you’ve heard of, I'm sure,” he answered dryly. “Since you’re here, and I doubt they’ll let you leave anytime soon, why don't you tell me your age and a few of the things you’ve done recently?”

Callen raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “Shouldn't you already know that info? They gave you my file.”

“Yes, but I’ve yet to look at it. It’s better for you to willingly give that information out; to show that I do not have complete control in this situation.” Azel ignored the suspicious look he was given, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a medium sized notebook. “This will be yours while you’re here. Please use it at least once a week, preferably halfway through or near the end. That way I can better monitor your thought process.”

“How are you going to monitor anything if it’s only once a week?”

“Well, Callen, you’re going to be here for awhile so there will be a lot to look over in the coming months. And you are free to write in it more often than that, if you feel it is necessary.”

Callen took the book, putting it in the bag he was given when they first decided to send him here. “Right. Well, you’re not going to see much progress. And I'm pretty sure you’re gonna end up dropping me soon, anyway.”

Azel hummed. “We’ll see. Do you plan on answering my previous question?”

Callen huffed out a laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he clasped his hands, chin resting on his knuckles. “Since you asked so nicely. I'm 22, and the most recent thing I've done is-”

-

-

“I would have appreciated a heads up about how volatile he was, Kara.”

Kara chuckled, the sound coming out slightly muffled through the phone. ‘I thought you would have guessed that, with all the statements and reports about him.’

“I assumed he was unstable, yes. But not like that.” Azel sighed, running a hand over his face. “Is there anything else I need to know, that you have yet to mention?”

‘Not that I can think of. Everything else should be in his file.’

“And you’re sure?”

‘As sure as I can be at the moment. Listen, I gotta go. A new order just came in, and I can hear you-know-who screaming about it already. If I remember anything, I’ll call.’

“Okay, thank you. And please don't antagonize her this time.”

‘No promises. Bye!’

“Goodbye.” He sighed again after hanging up, running a hand through his hair. This would be more of a problem than he thought. He should go through the medical records, at least. That way he would know what medications he was taking - if any. He doubted they kept him on them once they moved him out of the facility.

-

-

“So, you didn't change your mind,” Callen mumbled as he sat down, setting his bag at his feet. “I thought you would decide to drop me, after yesterday.”

“I've dealt with worse. How are you feeling today.”

“That didn't sound like a question, but I suppose I'm feeling fine.”

Azel nodded, opening the folder on his desk. “Are you sure? Because according to your medical records they had you on antipsychotics, and a mood stabilizer. So I would assume you'd be experiencing withdrawal symptoms by now, since they've taken you off of them.”

“That would only happen if I'd been regularly taking them in the first place. Which, obviously, I was not. And I thought you weren't going to look at my file?”

“I haven't touched your file. Your medical records are in a different category, though. As that is information that I constantly need to be up to date on, as it is crucial to your wellbeing.”

“And everything else?”

Azel waved a hand, “Knowing how much damage you've done, and what exactly you did, isn't something I necessarily need to be on top of. That's information you may share on your own, if you feel the need.”

Callen gave him a blank stare before rolling his eyes. “Okay, sure. So what's the other reason you brought up my medical records? That couldn't have been the only one.”

“There's the fact that you didn't need any antipsychotics, considering you never showed any signs of psychosis.” He flipped the folder around, pointing to the section he'd circled earlier. “And the fact that the dosage they had for your mood stabilizer was entirely too high, which ended up having the opposite effect.”

Callen glanced over the paper, frowning. “So they were trying to kill me.”

“Wait, what?” Azel exclaimed in confusion. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Whenever I had to take the meds it made my moods worse when they wore off, which gave them more reason to hurt me. They were trying to get it to the point where they would have no choice but to-”

“Stop,” Azel interrupted, holding a hand up, “that's enough. I get where you’re going. But I really don't think they were trying to kill you, Callen.”

“Then what were they trying to do?” he asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, voice tinged with agitation. “Cause that seems like the only plausible direction, with how they treated me.”

Azel wondered if he should look at Callen’s file, if only to know what all they did to the boy. But he decided against it; it’s not as if they would put corrective measures in the records. It would be too risky, and there would be the possibility that the facility could be shut down from abuse and torture charges. Maybe he should have Kara look into it.

“At most, I think they would have you constantly sedated and under watch for being too violent. But if you were taking the correct dosage as often as this says you were supposed to, you would have been catatonic since you were also on unneeded antipsychotics.”

“A living corpse.”

“No.”

“It’s the same thing. Either way, I’d be pretty much dead. They were trying to kill me!” Azel winced slightly at the yell, sighing internally when Callen knocked the folder off his desk as he surged up out of his seat. “It was their faults in the first place! I never did anything wrong, they were just too much of little bitches to handle the fact that I was stronger! If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't have been out of my fucking mind. I wouldn't have hurt those people! But are they going to say that? Are they going to take the blame? Of course not!”

Callen kicked the chair over in his anger, and Azel watched in mournful resignation as he practically tore apart his Peace Lily plant in the back corner of the room while ranting about all that happened. At least he was getting information out of the fit. He’d have to clean up and replace the plant. He huffed. And it was a present from his father, too.

“Did you get it out of your system?” he asked after several minutes, mentally mourning the loss of his plant.

Callen panted from exertion, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He stared blankly ahead for a long moment before walking back over to the chair and setting it up, sitting down after. “Sorry. But that's what I mean. After they started me on the meds, I was like that after they wore off, but worse. And I felt threatened with them around me, so I lashed out.”

“Which is understandable,” Azel stated. “Please refrain from attacking my plants in the future.”

“No promises. So now what?”

“Now,” Azel started, reaching down to pick up the folder and the few papers that fell out, “we try to get you the correct dosage of the correct type of mood stabilizer. They were giving you a stabilizer for depression, when you needed one for manic episodes. After correcting that you should begin to have less fits.”

“And that'll work?”

“Let's hope it does, or you'll have to start working to pay me back for the damage.”

Callen snorted pulling his legs up, hugging his knees to his chest. “Sure. Hey, did you know I once skinned someone alive?”

Azel hummed as Callen began explaining the process, tuning most of it out.

This boy was going to be the death of his sanity.

-

-

Kara laughed at Azel's retelling of the session. 

“So you just let him explain in extreme detail?”

“It was better than the alternative of possibly sending him into another fit. Have you found anything?”

“A lot, actually. I was just waiting for you to finish.” Azel stood, walking over to stand behind her. 

“Here are the records of any treatments he received, down here are his hours in solitary confinement. Then...” She switched to a different tab, scrolling down. “These are all the times he was supposed to take his medicine, and the highlighted areas are the times he actually did. I also have video feed to go through.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Kara. Can you email those to me? I'll go over them tomorrow night.”

“Sure thing. Have you figured out why they sent him to you, yet?” she asked, turning to face him. “I mean, it's been three days. You'd have to know by now.”

“I don't think the higher ups at the facility fully understand what I do. They certainly wouldn't have sent him here if they did. But it's their funeral, so I suppose it was a good thing it happened.”

Kara grinned. “Should I tell her? We can start preparing now.”

Azel shrugged, moving to grab his things. “If you want to. It won't be for a long while, but early prep never hurts. I'll see you tomorrow, Kara. Take care.”

“You too, Azel.”

-

-

Callen was wide-eyed with surprise, eyes scanning over the papers in front of him. “You... H-how... How did you get all this? I know this stuff isn't in my file because they never report these things. What... Did you hack in or something?”

Azel waved a hand. “Not me, but an associate of mine. She's very good at digging things up. We also have video files of how you and the other patients were treated. We can take all of this as proof, and set up a very good court case against them.”

Callen frowned, setting down the folder. “Just a court case?”

“Do you have any other ideas?”

“Well, not really. But won't they just be put in jail? It’s not as if they can really do anything to them, considering how much money they have. They could probably bail themselves out, anyway.” Callen’s face twisted in rage. “That's dumb. They shouldn't be able to do that.”

“Avoid the table if you’re going to hit something, please.” Azel pulled the folder back to him, closing it. “Now, have you written in the journal at all? It’s been enough days; I thought I should ask.”

The brunet shrugged, pulling the journal out of his back and handing it to Azel. “I had a fit, last night. And wrote in it. I doubt it makes much sense.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Azel muttered as he flipped it open to the first page. He blankly stared down at the jumbled, scratchy writing before huffing. At least his thoughts were very obvious.

It wasn't my fault. I didn't mean to

They shouldn't be allowed to taser kids

She was so small and they HURT her

They should be burned, exactly like they did to the others

BURN THEM DOWN

Don't hurt anyone. Don't. You’ll be hurt

HE WAS A BABY AND THEY KILLED HIM

They should all suffer

Azel continued reading what he could, only slightly worried at the repeated statements of burning the place down. He paused when the writing changed from chicken scratch to perfectly readable, the heading just above being ‘How To: Burning Bodies’. He felt he should stop, but he would have to read this eventually.

Callen fidgeted uneasily as Azel continued to read, glancing around the room as his leg shook, fingers tapping on the desk. Writing during his fit had not been a good idea at all, and he was regretting it more and my each passing second. He doesn't even remember what exactly he wrote; he just knows there was a lot of angry words. Maybe he should have looked it over before coming in today.

“Callen.”

“Hm?”

“Stop picking at the chair. Walk around if you need to, but don't break anything valuable.”

Callen was out of the chair immediately, restlessly pacing around the room. He ran his hands over the spines of the few books on the wall shelf, tugging the petals off a few flowers as he passed them. He should have read it over before bringing it in. He shouldn't have even brought it in in the first place. How stupid was he? There was no way they’d let him stay after reading that. They were going to send him back, and he’d have to sit through all their “treatments” again to be “corrected” of his behaviours.

He didn't want to go back.

Azel watched in quiet worry as Callen stood frozen, shoulders hunched with clenched hands. This couldn't be good. “Callen, come here.”

He didn't move, didn't even seem like he heard him, so Azel stood and walked over to him. “Callen,” he said softly, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “are you alright?”

“Please don't send me back,” Callen whispered.

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Cause- cause you read it! I don't remember what I wrote, but I was so angry, and now you don't want me here anymore cause I'm too dangerous. You’re going to send me back.”

“I'm not going to send you back, Callen. That would be counterproductive; I would be sending you back into a dangerous environment that would set you off again. Sending you there would basically be forcing you into a situation where you have no free will; I would never do that to anyone.”

“But... But then what are you going to do?”

Azel led him back over to his desk, having him sit as he picked up the journal. “This page here,” he started, flipping to the third to last written page, “is where you started writing a plan on how to burn down the facility.”

“I... Yes.”

“You did not finish the plan, but I would like you to put some more thought into it. This is the only alternative to putting them in jail, after all.”

Azel grinned at the feral look on Callen’s face at the statement, gently patting his back. “Once you finish it, bring it to me and we’ll go over it. Alright?”

“You’re... You’re really willing to help me burn that place down? You’re willing to help me get everyone out?”

“Of course. I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't. And besides, the facility started it anyway. They should know other people can play their games just as well. And that's exactly what we’re going to do.”

Callen grinned, eyes shining with glee. “Thank you, Azel!”

“No problem, kid. Now go get some lunch, this session ran a bit longer than expected.” Callen nodded, putting the book back in his bag before standing.

He was finally going to put them down.

-

-

I’m actually keeping up with this, oh my gosh. This is part one of the bit with these two, and part two is going to be done with Day 4′s prompt. Thank you all for reading!

Day 1, Day 2 and Day 4 and the prompt list.