sanditoncreative

[thefirstlioveyou]

the way elmike bts gets leaked yet my byler confidence is even higher now

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Thoughts on the costuming of Bad Buddy (a thread*)

Episode 12:

How is it the last one?! 😭 It's taken me a while to write this because it feels like once I'm done then Bad Buddy really is over...but I can't put it off any longer.

If it weren't enough seeing Pran's mint green towel and Pat and Pran's bedsheets (the former being red and blue, the latter having red, yellow, and blue stripes) in the beginning, surely we should have known they were still together by their first outfits. I mean, they're literally wearing the SAME COLOURS. They're colour coordinating. They've become one. And with Wai in such a vibrant yellow - that should have been an indicator that Pat is still in love and happy!

Generally, a lot of this episode has quite a neutral, earthy palette of colours - apart from some vibrant choices which I'll come to later on. At first I couldn't see a pattern or reasoning for this (I like to make connections) until I took the screenshots and saw the two families side by side. I was then reminded of my interpretation of the confrontation scenes at the end of ep 10 - in which Pran and his mum wear pastel/muted colours whereas Pat's family wear brighter colours and deeper shades, highlighting the differences between the two families.

But now, here, four years later, we have Pat's dad eventually drink the liquor that Pran gave him and Pran's mum giving Pran's guitar to him and smiling when she hears him and Pat upstairs. The families may not have reconciled yet, they might not be openly accepting of their son's boyfriend...but they've started their journey, they're on their way, albeit slowly (and whilst they wait for them, Pat and Pran are living their best life regardless), and this I believe is reflected in the shared palette of colours.

Yes, Pat's family has more red (in the furnishings and Pran's mum's top and earrings) but there is blue in Pat's dad's stripes and Pat's t-shirt (see below). And yes, Pran's mum has a richer blue and there's no red to be seen...but the other colours are similar - and linked by Pat and Pran's once again coordinating colours...even Ink and Pa are contributing to this one big extended family.

Quick aside to bring up again the fact that Pat is wearing the same smile shirt that's in his laundry basket in ep 1 when he first reminisces about him and Pran as kids.

One reoccurring colour in this episode is brown in varying shades, which I think is representative of sacrifice or yielding. Pat and Pran both sacrifice something for each other, they know that to love each other fully they each have to give the other the space they want and need to grow as individuals - Pran goes to Singapore whilst Pat stays in Thailand to work for his father. They also sacrifice some element of their freedom by keeping their relationship a secret from their families and friends...although it also gave them the possibility to be together as a couple - a compromise had to be made. And the parents sacrificed being involved in a part of their son's lives by not being able to put their own rivalry behind them.

In this vein, I was happy to see Pat's dad in brown when he yielded to Dissaya and reversed so that she could drive on before him. 👏🏼

And now for a change of colours...and on to mint green! I've already mentioned Pran's towel at the beginning, but I liked that mint green was included when Pat took Pran to the airport to go to Singapore - symbolising the strength of their union in the moment of physical separation. They may not be seeing each other in person for a while but that doesn't mean they're any less of a couple.

I've also seen a lot of gifs/photos where the creators have enhanced the mintiness of the curtain behind Pat when Pat and Pran are reminiscing the past four years (handily recapping for us the audience as well). It's subtle but I do love that in a moment when they are showing the strength of their love and togetherness, once again mint is present.

And in a similar vein, I was so happy to see Pa in purple! I stand by it being their couple colour (like mint green is for Pat and Pran)...although I wish I could make a cool interpretation for Ink's blue demin shirt...but whatever (maybe it's just there as a connection to Pat 🤷🏽‍♀️ - not everything has to mean something).

So on to the more vibrant colours...I've already written about all the red and blue details in the episode - and that includes Pa and Ink's red and blue outfits in the bar. I do find it interesting that both in the bar/noodle scene and in the high school reunion, Pat is the one in 'neutral' colours (black/grey) whilst Pran is in orangey/red, and then green, blue, red, and white stripes. In some ways this feels like a bit of a reversal for them - it feels easier to associate Pat with the more 'colourful' outfits (even though this seems to show it's actually quite even). @transpat wrote a great analysis of Pat and Pran's character development, which I think explains this reversal well:

"ep12 was such a perfect mirror to ep8. where pat couldn’t bear to keep them a secret and pran was too afraid of being found out, pat now learns their love doesn’t need to be announced to the world to remain valid or for them to stay true to themselves, while pran understands why pat wanted to be loud about his relationship, he’s the one who doesn’t hold his laughter, the one to send his father-in-law gifts."

Pran used to be reserved and feared for the consequences of their relationship...but now he's unabashedly open. Pat used to be loud, brash, and impulsive but now he understands that his love isn't any less if it's quiet. ❤️💙

And lastly, the wonderful final scene 😭 With both of them again in neutral colours but this time Pat has yellow on his shirt...literally wearing his love and happiness on his chest. I received a lovely anon ask regarding all the fairy lights...suggesting that the shear number of lights and electric candles here symbolises Pat and Pran just being done with hiding their love and happiness. They're both loving loudly now.

I can't believe that's it. It's over. It really is over now. 😭

[Ep 1] [Ep 2] [Ep 3] [Ep 4] [Ep 5] [Ep 6] [Ep 7] [Ep 8] [Ep 9] [Ep 10] [Ep 11]

[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass ~ spencer reid

i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

song fic inspired by ‘honey and glass’ by peyton cardoza

word count: 4.8k

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash

it’s a summers night in california and i’m on the beach at sunset.

the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-

“ow!” i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, “what was that for?”  

“come and play,” he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.

i shake my head, “no, i don’t feel like it,” i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.

morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where i’m sitting to collect the ball, “what’s up with you then?” he teases.

i shrug, “nothing. I’m just tired,” i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, “ask one of them to play.”  

i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, they’re down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.

“nah, don’t wanna interrupt the kid when he’s trying to make a move,” morgan shrugs, “come play with us, we need an extra person.”

an extra person.

right.

because what else am i but another body to fill the space?

“i don’t want to,” i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, “hotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, i’m gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

morgan says something, but i don’t register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell he’s melting inside as he follows her into the water.

and i just know that he’d follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.

i turn away from morgan so he doesn’t see the tears burning in my eyes.

and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum

we’re in a dimly lit bar somewhere.

hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.

rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.

derek is out of my line of sight and i’m thankful for that.

emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.

i sit at the table with spencer, he’s drunk.

more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i can’t ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.

he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, “i’m in love with her, y’know,” he slurs.

“i know, spencer,” i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.

he doesn’t even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.

and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party

spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.

neither of us particularly like it, but there aren’t many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.

i don’t have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.

we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.

and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes

“anything you like?” emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.

“i’m not sure…” i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, “i-i don’t think this is my colour.”

the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that it’s on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i can’t recall a time that i’ve looked worse.

the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.

you’re having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.

you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.

but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isn’t the lighting or my lack of makeup it’s just me.

because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isn’t wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights don’t wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights aren’t the problem.

i am.

i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.

i go to the store but i don’t buy salad.

and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" ‘cause life is easy when you know that you're the main character

i’m in hotch’s office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i don’t deserve to be in this job.

i’m not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i don’t have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i can’t even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.

“i’m not going to write you up,” he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, “but i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i won’t have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.”

i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“go home, get some rest,” he says and i don’t hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.

“wow, slow down,” he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“spencer,” i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, “what are you still doing here? we landed hours ago….”

he shrugs, “i waited for you.”

my heart skips a beat.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shakes his head, “you’re my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.”

i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.

best friend.

“thanks, spence, that means a lot.”

he looks at me quizzically.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, just only jj calls me spence…anyways” he holds out his arm for me, “shall we go?”

i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, “thanks spencer…you’re such a good friend.”

he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling i’ve grown accustomed to but when i’m with him everything is warm and bright again.

he feels like yellow.

and i feel like maybe i am enough.

and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair

i feel like blue.

i’m alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isn’t a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i can’t look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if i’m okay.

“hotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah, spence – spencer – waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.”

“aww that’s so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,” she teases.

something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i can’t tell her that i know she’s wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i laugh, “anyways, i should go – my movie is about to start.”

jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time there’s noting but romcoms and i don’t want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.

i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.

but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad

jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.

i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i can’t switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?

how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?

and that i want to resent her for it but i can’t because she’s such a good fucking friend that she’s sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i can’t stop shedding because i can’t be her.

she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.

but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. she’s done nothing wrong. it’s not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesn’t realise.

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

i hate alaska.

my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.

“should we even be out here?” i groan, “i mean if it’s not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.”

“we aren’t 50,000 feet up in the sky though,” morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.

“it’s cold enough to make me feel like we are,” i huff.

spencer nods sympathetically at me, “i don’t like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.”

“i think we should have two behavioural analysis units,” i begin, “one to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.”

he laughs, “i’d like that, but i think it’d just be us and garcia on the hot team.”

“we’d get by.”

he’s grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. he’s wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.

a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, “hey! what is it with you and throwing things?” i snap.

morgan roars with laughter.

“not funny derek!”

he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and it’s rays catch jj’s hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.

i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. they’re beautiful. like honey and glass.

“guys! come join us!�� jj calls.

i shake my head, “there’s not enough money in the world.”

she pouts at me, “spence, please,” she says sweetly and before i know it he’s by her side and scooping up snow.

i watch from the side-lines.

spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.

but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.

maybe alaska wasn’t so bad after all.

and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass

“nice to meet you, agent,” agent fitz says, holding out his hand, “we’ve heard good things about you up in the new york office.”

“really?” i say, shaking his hand and i can’t fight the smile that creeps across my face.

“really. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.”

“i’ll keep that in mind, agent fitz,” i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.

new york was cold in the winter, but it didn’t seem like the worst place in the world.

but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh

i wondered once how i’d ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i don’t want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.

“i guess i’m just starting to realise that she’ll never love me back, and i don’t know why or what’s wrong with me,” he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, “sometimes the people you love just don’t love you back, but that’s not a reflection of you or your self-worth,” i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.

he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.

“it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like i’m dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-”

his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesn’t seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.

because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why i’m crying, i can’t tell him it’s because i am feeling everything he is.

“i just don’t like seeing you like this,” is all i can muster up.

it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth

“hey!” spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.

“hi,” i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.

we’ve been called in on a case, but i’ve barely had any sleep and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“you look tired, are you okay?”

you look tired.

so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.

“yeah,” i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, “just a late night, y’know.”

“oh…oh! is that your way of saying your date went well?” he says with a coy grin.

“what?”

oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.

“no! not like that no…actually it didn’t go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,” i say with a bitter laugh.

“oh, i’m sorry….”

i shrug and take another swig of coffee, “it’s okay, you didn’t know. to be honest i’ll probably end up calling him again anyways.”

spencer stares at me, confused, “why would you do that?”

“well, i don’t exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?”

spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, “so you’re just going to settle for less than you deserve?”

“i don’t have many other options do i?”

he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right guy for you soon. it’s only a matter of time, you’re worth more than a misogynistic creep,” he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it we’ve already reached our floor and he’s gone.

you’ll meet the right guy for you soon.

what if i already have?

you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass

it’s late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.

my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i can’t tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.

i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.

a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i don’t know why i’m crying really.

no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.

it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.

maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.

only spencer hadn’t been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencer’s position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.

i jump as emily creeps up behind me, “hey, you okay?”

i don’t even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, “no. but i think that’s okay.”

and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know

it’s roslyn’s birthday.

i don’t think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.

when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.

“shhh,” i say soothingly, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

jj shakes her head, “i don’t think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but it’s just getting worse,” she sniffles.

i stroke her hair, “i know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-”

“i’m not,” jj shakes her head, “i’m not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, i’m not like you I-”

“like me?” i question.

“you always hold yourself together, whenever there’s a case with a kid i’m falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean i’m the one crying in a storage closet….”

i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i don’t understand how she can’t see that.

“i don’t have a sister who killed herself jj,” i say slowly, “you have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because you’re a fighter, that makes you strong.”

she shakes her head and clings to me, “but i’ve lost pieces of myself, i’m not the same person i could’ve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks i’m this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i can’t be that person.”

in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.

spencer loves her and that kills me but it’s not what’s important right now. i’ve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.

i know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep so i don’t want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.

i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name

“smile!” garcia says as she appears with a camera.

emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.

“come on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and you’ve been dodging me all night!” she whines.

i stare down at my feet, “garcia i’m not photoshoot ready like these guys,” i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.

“come on, just one picture,” jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.

i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time i’m feeling extra low and self-destructive.

i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isn’t sad anymore, she’s happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isn’t going to make or break her.

it’s just a stupid photograph.

“no thanks,” i choke, “i’m going to get another drink,” i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.

i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i can’t quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.

“are you avoid garcia and her camera too?”

“spencer!” i laugh shrilly, “i didn’t even see you there.”

“yeah, i’ve been hiding in here for a half hour,” he smiles sadly, “i hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.”

i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.

“why don’t we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?” i suggest nervously, “you won’t have any reason to feel insecure next to me….”

he looks at me quizzically, “what do you mean?”

i wring my hands again, “just that you’ll automatically look even better if i’m next to you…cos’ i’m…well y’know,” i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.

he cocks his head to the side, “are you trying to tell me you think you’re ugly, so i’ll look better by comparison?”

i shrug.

“well, i think you look beautiful.”

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

we’re on the plane journey home.

spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know he’ll be finished soon.

i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.

i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesn’t take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i don’t catch what she says, something about astrophysics.

he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.

they aren’t even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still can’t handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.

a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.

 “where are you going?” emily grumbles, she’s half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.

 “bathroom,” i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.

i’m already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.

and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass

“agent fitz?” i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.

“ahh, i’ve been wondering when i’d be hearing from you.”

i laugh quietly, “yes, well i’ve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.”

i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))

part 2

[mythicamagic]

Enemies to Lovers - Sesshoumaru is injured - "Lean on me" prompt

AN: Because there’s a lot of prompts to get through I probably should have/could have spent more time on this one due to the heavy subject matter buuut since in the anime Sesshoumaru only gets 11 episodes to recover from the loss of his arm, I don’t feel too guilty XD

Warning: body trauma

---

Inuyasha's wench had found him around an hour ago. Unlike Rin, she'd deliberated approaching for a few moments. Unsurprising. They were still foes after all. Crimson eyes remained burning, glaring listlessly at her face.

She'd seemed to silently decide something, determination steeling her expression. The yellow nekomata he vaguely recalled belonging to the slayer was her sole companion, who growled at him warningly not to try anything. As if he would.

The miko carried a large cumbersome bag, so he assumed she'd been headed somewhere before running into him within the forest.

Kagome cleaned his wound as best she could, before binding it to try and stop the excessive blood loss. She'd then approached with the beast, proceeding to kneel beside his bloody form. Sesshoumaru remained where he was, reclined against a tree and settled at its base.

Kagome winced, arm secured around his waist after having removed his armour.

"I can't just leave you like this. Lean on me. I'll take your weight enough to move you onto Kirara."

Sesshoumaru turned his head, gazing at nothing.

His lips moved, speaking too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He repeated himself in a tight voice. "What is the point?"

Kagome stiffened against him. Her heart thudded quicker, fear brushing his senses.

Sesshoumaru allowed his hazy red eyes to dull into empty gold, staring right at the woman.

He could survive a missing arm. Had adjusted his fighting style enough to manage.

But the Killing Perfection could not survive the loss of a leg too. His body would save him from blood loss, but his spirit lay broken, irreparable.

Kagome swallowed loudly, resting a hand on his upper thigh. His leg ended below the knee.

"T-this… it's nothing for you," she mumbled quietly. "You're going to be okay. You'll find a way to walk again."

Sesshoumaru chuckled dryly, resting his head back against the trunk. "Why do you care, wench?" he flashed sharp teeth at her. "We are not allies. Leave me."

"I won't," Kagome moved closer, grabbing a handful of his hankimono. "Listen, I might not be your friend and you've tried to kill Inuyasha more than a few times, but…" her hand shook. "But you're the strongest person I've met. If you fall, then what hope do the rest of us have?" she questioned softly. "Despite myself, I admire people like you and Kikyo. Always so crazy strong."

Sesshoumaru scoffed, gripping her hard by the hair and forcing her head down to look at the stump of his right leg. "Do I look strong to you, miko?" he hissed in her ear.

Kagome braced her hands on his available leg, twisting in his grip to look at him.

Sesshoumaru stilled.

Unshed tears lay in her eyes.

"Yes," she muttered with conviction. "So long as you don't give up now."

Sesshoumaru stared. Inky black hair slowly fell limp around his fingers. He settled back against the tree.

Kagome straightened, winding an arm around his waist again. "At least come with me to find shelter. You can't stay like this out in the open."

Sesshoumaru remained dead weight. He did not see the point in trying.

He could not hope to recover from this.

Kagome tugged and heaved at his body, his mass much too big for her to hope to move.

She sighed with frustration, blowing air at her bangs. "I'll tell Inuyasha about this," she grumbled.

Sesshoumaru blinked, sliding his gaze back to her. "I would kill you before you managed to leave."

Kagome smiled a little, patting his shoulder. "That's better. You look a bit more like yourself when you're threatening someone."

He wanted to snap at her. To snarl and bite the soft looking skin of her neck, frighten her enough to leave.

He was tired. A part of him felt content to die after his pride lay in such shattered tiny pieces.

And yet…

And yet a part of him, instinctive, strong and indomitable, refused to lay down and perish. It appreciated her continued efforts.

The thought of him hobbling about so pathetically was almost too much to bear, but Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, realising very wretchedly that this meant he did not in fact wish to die.

"We can do this," Kagome was muttering, trying to angle him enough to lay on Kirara, who pressed in close, offering assistance.

Sesshoumaru stifled a sigh, making a silent choice. He begrudgingly leaned against her, shifting his remaining leg beneath him.

Kagome gasped, "that's it!" she encouraged, helping him into a crouching position before he fell forward onto the beast. Kagome adjusted his leg, ensuring he was steady, before nodding for Kirara to stand.

Sesshoumaru did not pay attention to their surroundings, the forest passing in a blur.

If he'd just been quicker, the bull demon who had humiliated him would have perished sooner. The beast had produced a second weapon out of thin air, axe cleaving through muscle and bone. All he could do was pull back- lest he lose his entire lower half.

He felt no pain. Surprisingly, everything remained numb. His flesh was cold and clammy, and he lay as if outside of his own body.

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, lapsing into unconsciousness.

---

The scent of rain stirred his senses.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, finding himself laying down upon a strange futon that resembled a squashed cocoon. The nekomata lay behind him, keeping him warm.

Sesshoumaru blinked. The miko had found them shelter. He soon located her sitting at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain while a fire lay in the centre of the cool space.

When she noticed he’d regained consciousness, Kagome rose and offered some water from her strange water container.

She’d changed clothes, donning more unusual clothing Sesshoumaru was unfamiliar with. Her pants clung to her form distractingly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, hovering close.

He tsked, passing back the water after taking a swig. “Like I have one leg and one arm. How do you think I am feeling, mortal?”

She winced, “shitty.”

“Indeed,” Sesshoumaru lay back down, staring at the cave ceiling soberly.

“Do you want something to eat?” a crunchy noise rustled from her pocket as the woman produced a rectangular bar of some kind.

He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice, eyeing a picture of the food on its strange packaging. “What is it?”

“A peanut butter and chocolate energy bar,” Kagome winced. “Look I don’t know how to hunt-” he scoffed, “-so this is the best I’ve got. Sorry, your Highness.”

Sesshoumaru sneered, “you may keep it. I do not eat human food. Least of all bizarre creations such as that.”

“Fine but it's your loss.”

His expression became blank, noticing her wince and start apologising for the wording. He wasn’t listening anymore though. The initial shock was beginning to wear off, and now he was more than painfully aware of the shooting pains running up and down the remainder of his leg, from stump to upper thigh. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, refusing to show his discomfort.

“...You’ve used a human arm before,” Kagome said carefully, sitting beside him and crossing her legs. “And what looked like a dragon one. By that logic, you could attach a demon leg to yours, right?”

Sesshoumaru slid his gaze to her, silently thankful for the distraction. The coming agony would be something he’d already dealt with due to the loss of his arm. Phantom limb pain was a real bitch.

“Yes,” he managed, before taking a steadying breath. He managed to arrange his features into something smirking and lofty. “Are you implying you will fetch me a new limb, little miko? How very generous.”

Kagome’s eyes turned flat. “I’m not about to go out and lop off some poor demon’s foot just to help you. But...if…” she said slowly, “if I’m attacked- which happens often because of the jewel shards- maybe I’d…”

Sesshoumaru dropped his smug expression, frowning softly.

The rain continued to pour, pelting the ground hard. It was a sobering reminder that if she’d left him to the mercy of the elements, he’d be in a much worse state.

He ran careful attention over her features. “Why?”

Kagome’s deep blue eyes held his probing stare, not a flicker of deceit in them. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly, “things can’t go back to normal for you right away- or at least, they shouldn’t. You should take the time to recover. I don’t know how the hell you managed to come after us so quickly after losing your arm. It likely wasn’t healthy for you.”

He arched a brow. Repressing every single fibre of the experience and any feelings about the fate that had befallen his left arm had worked wonders for his recovery. Granted it made sleep difficult at times, but none had ever had the audacity to lecture him about his decisions before.

“But- I also don’t want you to be vulnerable to attacks or starvation,” Kagome kept rambling. “Giving you a leg won’t solve everything but it’ll help- ah, are you burning up?” she noticed a bead of sweat roll down his temple, reaching out automatically.

Sesshoumaru snatched it mid-air, pushing up with a burst of speed and yanking Kagome down, simultaneously rolling atop her. Her back hit the ground, punctuated with a squeak from her startled lips.

Silver hair hung down, creating a curtain that blocked out the rest of the world. Those blue eyes widened, breath hitching. Their lower halves pressed intimately together, stomachs meeting as Sesshoumaru leaned closer, using his hand to brace his weight above her. A fire burned within the back of his throat, ancient, tattered pride stinging. He found that he resented her slightly. Resented her for seeing him so weak. It hadn’t mattered when Rin had found him wounded. A battered child had no relation to him. But this girl, Kagome- was an enemy. She should not have seen him thus.

“Do I seem so very vulnerable to you?” he asked in a hushed voice, mouth inches from hers. The fire crackled, rain pouring. Her breathing sounded a touch quicker, heartbeat loud in his ears. Drumming.

Against all logic, he felt her body relax beneath his. She even smiled a little, “no,” she muttered.

“Is something amusing?”

“I’m just glad you proved me wrong. I’d rather you kept acting like a jerk than look so...defeated like you did earlier,” Kagome gave a nervous giggle, gesturing between them, “uh...if you could let me up now though that would be great.”

She tried to rise, but he let more of his weight sink down upon her soft, warm body. “No, I do not think I will.”

Kagome gasped, drawing a knee up and inadvertently opening her legs, allowing him to fit snugly against her. If he hadn’t lost a limb several hours earlier that same day and wasn’t experiencing agonising, blinding pain, Sesshoumaru had to say, the feeling was enough to make him...consider something previously thought impossible between himself and humans.

As it was, he hissed a breath through grit teeth, the stump licking phantom flames of blazing fire around the wound.

“Sesshoumaru? Sesshoumaru!”

He shuddered, trying to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight, arm shaking.

It hurt. It suddenly hurt like hell- and nothing was working. No distraction could take him from the blistering, lonely, maddening sensation that holy fuck his leg was missing. He wanted to do something as meaningless as wriggle his toes and he could not-

Suddenly, her arms were around him. Pleasant fresh scents assaulted his fractured senses, citrusy and clean. Kagome pulled him down while rolling herself, flipping their positions.

“I don’t have anything for the pain,” her voice strained apologetically. She quickly moved off him, but Sesshoumaru wasn’t paying attention anymore. He panted, temples pounding. His body shook, pain shooting through the nerve endings in the remainder of his leg.

Something cold and wet lay over his marked forehead. Cracking the burning suns of pained golden eyes open, he watched Kagome adjust the cold compress, before checking his leg.

“You heal quick, but you need new bandages. M-maybe that’ll help until I can go home for painkillers,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and digging through it.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, seizing the fretting miko’s wrist.

“Your...scent,” he grunted.

“What?”

If he were sober he’d never request something so undignified, but Sesshoumaru kept talking, somewhat delirious now that all sense of shock had worn off. “Come here...again. I want your scent.”

Kagome’s shocked features were lost to him as the Daiyoukai hissed, squeezing his eyes shut.

The scent of citrus returned after a moment. Soft, curling locks of dark hair brushed his nose as Kagome gingerly embraced him.

Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his face into the black fall of citrus-scented strands. He lost himself to instinct, gripping onto the stable, pleasant sensations that took the form of Inuyasha’s wench. She let out a tense breath but soon relaxed against him, verbally assuring Kirara when the nekomata growled.

For the second time that day, Sesshoumaru unwillingly lost the battle for consciousness.

----

She was gone by the time he awoke in the morning, but the nekomata remained. She growled and hissed softly whenever he looked at the beast for longer than necessary. Kagome left a note, explaining that she’d be back soon.

Sesshoumaru had little to do except wait. The pain had become a continuous throb, which was easier to deal with but equally as irritating, exhausting him.

When Kagome returned several hours later, she produced wrapped pieces of cooked chicken from her bag, cheerfully explaining that she’d returned home. Sesshoumaru turned his nose up slightly at the food.

“I would have preferred the bird...raw.”

“Wait like freshly dead?”

“Alive, favourably.”

Kagome gaped, leaving the lunchbox with him. “That's terrible!”

Sesshoumaru stared at her flatly, opening his mouth and drawing out his tongue, transforming his features into something more monstrous and canine while placing the food into his mouth and eating it in one quick snap of his jaws. “Demon,” he muttered pointedly.

She rolled her eyes and let him finish his meal in peace.

---

They fell into an odd routine of planned visits for several days, talking about the strange things she brought back from home. He came to learn she was from the Future, of all places. They discussed its advanced technologies while she bandaged his leg.

He suspected the miko felt some sense of responsibility for him now. The thought set his teeth on edge, mildly humiliated.

When he brought up the subject of his vassal, ward and steed, Kagome shrugged and told him they’d been accepted into Inuyasha’s group for the time being. They worried about his continued absence and Inuyasha complained about having to share a space with Jaken, but bared with it. Not one person knew about his situation except Kagome, for which he was thankful.

By the end of five days though, Sesshoumaru needed to move. He began by pulling himself along the ground via his hand and knee, which proved awkward but not impossible. Next came standing, which- after many failed attempts- he finally managed to do, gripping onto the cave wall.

Walking was impossible, of course. And by the time Sesshoumaru realised the very sobering truth that he’d have to hop everywhere the rest of his life or walk with the use of a cane or crutch unless he could grab a demon leg- he wondered why he’d bothered moving at all.

“You’re standing!”

Dulled golden eyes slid to the miko, who stood at the mouth of the cave. In her arms was a large sack faintly marred with blood, and he could tell from the wrinkle of her nose exactly what it was. Surprise slammed into his gut.

“Miko-”

Kagome set the bundle down, hurrying over and steadying him when he tipped too much to one side. “Are you alright? You should be resting-”

“Give me the leg, miko.”

Kagome fell silent, eyeing his stump. He’d stopped needing bandages two days ago. She didn’t protest, merely looking at him carefully. “Are you sure?”

Sesshoumaru leaned against her, allowing her to help ease him down into a sitting position. He briefly touched her cheek, gliding a thumb there and watching it redden. His heart thudded with gladness. “I am sure.”

She nodded, soon bringing the bloodied sack over. She explained that he’d gotten lucky, as while the first two demons they’d faced in a group of three had been too large and bulky to fit his build, the third had been smaller. Inuyasha had been extremely disturbed and suspicious when she’d asked him to hack their leg off once all three were dead.

“It’s not been easy, avoiding his questions, you know. He’s tried to follow me here more than once. I managed to convince him that this leg was for my weird Grandpa.”

Sesshoumaru blinked, finding himself watching her instead of studying the leg as it was revealed to him. The miko had been astronomically helpful and considerate in all the ways one could to a demon lord. His chest felt strange. Warm, upon realising the extent of her actions for his sake.

“Well, do you like it?”

Sesshoumaru jolted, focusing on the red-scaled leg laying before him. From its scent, he knew it to be from a lizard demon. Not his first choice, but this was no time to be picky. Sesshoumaru grabbed it and pressed the severed end to his stump after aligning it. He didn’t so much as flinch as muscle and bone wove together, the process over in seconds. Kagome gaped with amazement.

When he moved to stand, she quickly assisted, pulling him to his feet. Sesshoumaru took a step and staggered, looking downwards.

Ah.

Kagome’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh. Oh no...it's too short isn’t it?”

The height was off by a few inches.

He made to reply- before stiffening, scenting salt. “Why are you crying about it, foolish woman?”

“I-I’m sorry,” she waved it off, some tears escaping down her cheeks before she roughly brushed them away. “I just wanted it to be perfect but now you’re kind of...tilted.”

Despite the situation, a smile tugged at his mouth. A noise bubbled up from the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet laugh.

Kagome froze, tears clinging to her lashes.

“It is fine, miko. More than...fine.”

Sesshoumaru held onto the wall for support, feeling the bite of putting weight onto the leg, his stump flaring. It would take time for his body to adjust. Despite this, his warrior heart filled with purpose again, powers working to heal him. Just having the ability to walk after having it stolen away renewed his spirits.

Kagome watched him with a smile, occasionally offering aid but largely keeping her hands off. He could sense various soft emotions rolling off her in waves. Admiration, relief and something else. Something he could not name. It remained untouched and unnamed long after he left the cave behind one afternoon.

He had no writing utensils to leave a note, instead carefully tearing out a segment of his sleeve, leaving the red and white flower symbol of his family crest for her to find.

---

Kagome panted hard, catching her breath and folding down into a crouch, gripping her bow tight.

“Are you alright, Kagome?” Rin asked, closely followed by Shippo as they approached from Ah-Un, having kept away from the random attack on the village. Thankfully the hoard of boar demons had finally been dealt with, but Kagome’s nerves were shot to hell after racing around so much, trying to protect villagers.

“I-I’m fine, guys, thanks,” she smiled, looking between them both. The orphans had bonded quickly, and she felt a surge of warmth, happy they had a companion their age to talk with. It had been two weeks since she’d last seen Sesshoumaru since his disappearance, and while she loved having Rin around, it did make her worry. Sesshoumaru always returned to his group. Where had he run off too?

Maybe he went to find a better leg, she thought, taking the children’s hands and walking towards Miroku- who was helping up an old man from where he’d fallen. Perhaps he needed time to get used to walking on what’s essentially a prosthetic.

For humans- such a thing took up to one year. Demons really are something else.

Kagome’s lips curved, picturing the burning, determined gaze of the Daiyoukai.

Or rather, Sesshoumaru is something else.

“Kagome, look out!” Miroku yelled.

Jerking, Kagome sensed a lone boar youkai barrelling towards her through the forest, knocking trees aside. It was quicker than anticipated- and despite Kagome grabbing the children and trying to run out of its way, it charged straight for her, grunting, throwing its head wildly.

People were screaming her name, but they were too far away. Kagome twisted her body, pushing the kids aside and in order for her to take the brunt of the hit-

Red light exploded to life, consuming the boar demon before it could reach them. Hide and blood were caught up in the attack, leaving Kagome mercifully free from the boar's flying carnage.

She panted, shaking a little and gazing at the steaming remains of the demon. A pale figure floated to the ground, landing elegantly.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” Rin cried happily.

“Lord Sesshoumaru?!” Jaken’s distant yell could be heard.

Kagome straightened, heart doing a funny thing in her chest. She immediately looked at his leg- finding him clad in white hakama pants and black boots. The same as always.

Blue eyes widened. He appeared completely unchanged. Somehow, he must’ve found an inhuman demon and took their leg so that he could masquerade as his usual self.

His tiny group circled around him joyously, while Kagome’s friends gathered together a little ways away. Inuyasha’s ears pinned back to his head with displeasure.

Jaken hopped up and down. “Where have you BEEN, mi lord!”

“Nowhere."

“Tch, bastard,” grumbling, Inuyasha raised his voice a touch. “Hey- you could at least thank us for babysitting your damn group while you were probably out doing power-hungry shit.”

Sesshoumaru’s gaze slid over the Hanyou dismissively, stopping on Kagome. Her breathing hitched.

“I am not here to thank you, Inuyasha.”

Kagome remained frozen as a shadow fell over her face, his head of silver hair blocking out the sun. Golden eyes replaced the burning circle in the sky, blazing and intent. Slit pupils pinned her in place.

She was vaguely aware of her friends exclaiming in surprise and alarm, thinking he meant to harm her. The sound of Inuyasha drawing his sword was enough to make her mutter ‘sit boy’ absentmindedly, paying no attention to his subsequent impact with the ground.

Sesshoumaru raised a hand, resting pale knuckles against her cheek in a slow drag down to her jaw, skin cool, clashing against her warmth. White lashes lowered, becoming half-mast.

“You’re okay?” she breathed.

“Hn, I merely needed some time,” Sesshoumaru’s low rumble melted her insides.

She cleared her throat, cheeks tinging red because of his proximity, his dark youki brushing her senses, his touch- his everything. Reaching into her pocket, she produced the segment of his clothing, the pattern of his clan. “Did you want this back-?”

“Keep it,” he closed her fingers over it, catching her eye. “You have my loyalty for what you have done for this one, miko. Keep it,” he said softer.

Kagome nodded slowly, opening her mouth to ask more-

Firm lips slanted over her own. Stiffening, she became deaf to her friend’s even louder exclamations of surprise, Miroku quietly voicing his awe, impressed.

The miko inhaled sharply through her nose, feeling Sesshoumaru’s mouth move, brushing against her own in several lingering kisses. Blushing, it took a moment for Kagome to get over her stupefaction. But then she pressed a little closer, kissing him back perhaps a little nonsensically. But it felt right. Her toes curled at the feel of him.

A low groan rumbled in his throat and his lips softened against hers, mouth parting to brush his sinuous tongue against hers.

Kagome shivered and wondered if he could hear how her heart hammered in her chest. His palm felt steady upon her back, arm encircling her waist. When they finally pulled away, their lips lingered close.

“What...what was that?” she breathed, cheeks flushed.

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked, “that was this Sesshoumaru conveying my deep sense of gratitude, miko.”

“Funny way of thanking someone, but I’ll take it,” Kagome’s eyes glittered. She could think about the consequences of such an action later. For now, she was content to hold his gaze and keep his secret safe- for however long the prideful Daiyoukai needed.

[asset35-maya]

Nice Things

Inspired by this spectacular drawing of long-haired Nines by @marndraws

Gavin Reed never had nice things.

Every day was a fight for survival. He studied hard, worked hard and did everything he could to come out on top… but he never had nice things. If he did, they wouldn’t last.

Then the most beautiful creature to walk the planet entered his life.

A sheer scientific miracle. A combined feat of engineering and art. The most advanced android ever built… and the kindest soul the mean city of Detroit had ever seen.

Nines.

Gavin had no idea how to interact with the RK900 in the beginning. If it were any other new partner he’d have been his usual abrasive self, but there was something about the android that left him dumbstruck. No insults came to mind, so Gavin stuck to silent cooperation (and obedience, actually).

The RK900 model was designed to be aesthetically pleasing. There was no doubt about that, but it was how the android carried himself that took things to another level entirely. Poise, elegance and flair touched everything that he said and did.

It extended to the way he transformed his appearance after deviancy. Nines shed his Cyberlife uniform with the harsh turtleneck and stiff jacket in favour of softer, more delicate garments. He still stuck to dark colours, but his clothes were all loose and flowing. He dressed more like an interior decorator than a homicide detective (and it honestly served him well).

Gavin often had to tear his gaze away from the refined fabrics and unconventional styles that Nines wore. Gavin never had nice things… but he certainly had an eye for them.

And then there was Nines’ hair…

When Gavin had first seen the change from the default appearance settings, he had to leave the station, find a quiet alley and focus on bringing his breathing back to normal.

Nines… for some unknown, wild, spectacular, unprecedented, utterly amazing reason… had decided to lengthen his hair and let it hang loose around his shoulders.

The dark tresses were as expressive as the android himself. They danced when he laughed. They whipped the air when he animatedly told a story with his steel blue eyes flashing. They shone in every damn light.

Gavin couldn’t help but stare. He never had nice things… but he was drawn to them.

Not a day went by that he didn’t want to reach out and tuck the fine strands behind Nines’ ear, but he held back from giving in to such insanity.

Nines didn’t hold himself back though.

For all the times Gavin had been looking, so had he. He made his move in the middle of a very boozy Christmas party at the DPD. It didn’t take much of an effort. They left the party together on the flimsy pretext of Nines showing Gavin his Christmas lights at home… and promptly fell into bed together.

Gavin had never had nice things… but he knew exactly what he wanted, and when they were presented to him on a silver platter, he knew how to take them.

Nines’ hair was as soft as he imagined and even silkier than he dreamed. He couldn’t stop running his fingers through the lifelike synthetic fibres and Nines couldn’t seem to get enough of his touch either.

Bliss.

On the third anniversary of the Christmas party, the pair found themselves in very much the same position, only that they didn’t actually make it to the mindless office event this time. The day started and ended in bed.

Fairy lights glittered and tastefully-chosen tinsel framed the snow-laden windows of their loft apartment. The large Christmas tree emanated a warm glow that reached even the bedroom where they lay tangled in the sheets.

Nines was draped over Gavin’s chest, his fingers skimming idly across the warm skin.

“Sweetheart…”

“Nines.”

Gavin’s wary tone of voice made the android laugh. A velvet sound that the human would follow to the ends of the earth.

“What’s the thing you love most about me?”

Gavin exhaled loudly, hugging Nines closer.

“Baby, you know I ain’t good at words and shit.”

“I’m not asking you to write me a poem. Just tell me what you love most about me.”

He sighed and stared at the ceiling.

“Is this a test?”

“I don’t have to test you. I know everything there is to know about you. I can read you like a book even with my analysis software turned off.”

“Uh huh. Then why the inquisition?”

“Because validation is nice.”

Gavin snorted and carded his fingers though Nines’ gorgeous hair.

“Guess I can start by applauding your honesty.”

Nines hummed, rubbing slow circles into Gavin’s pec with his thumb. A few minutes went by and Gavin began to drift off to sleep.

“So what’s more attractive to you? My personality or my looks?”

Gavin’s eyes snapped open in alarm.

“What the ph-”

“There’s no right or wrong answer. Just tell me.”

Nines propped himself up on his elbows and peered into Gavin’s face. It was truly a magnificent sight. Two piercing blue eyes… plush lips curling into a smirk… a cyan LED… and a perfectly arched eyebrow. A pale, angular face… framed by sweeping curtains of dark, glossy hair.

Gavin gulped.

“I can’t choose. You’re the total package.”

“Cop out.”

“Pfffft. You tell me then. What do you like better? My mug or my sharp wit? Hah. Betcha can’t answer that for all the complex calculations your supercomputer brain can do.”

Nines tossed his hair over his shoulder and elevated himself further, pressing his forearms onto Gavin. His fixation with the human’s muscular chest was no secret.

“I can.”

“Huh.”

“You hardly said anything when we first met so I had nothing to go off for your personality-”

“Maybe I was mysterious and aloof and ya just couldn’t resist.”

“No, I actually thought you were kind of slow. All your medals and service awards didn’t make any sense to me.”

“Wowww.”

“So it had to be your body. Why else would anyone keep you around?”

“Is that why you stuck around too?”

“Maybe.”

“You little-”

Gavin reversed their positions on the bed, flipping Nines onto his back and curling huge biceps around his lithe body. Nines tipped his head back to allow Gavin to drag his teeth across his throat and latch onto his collarbone. Some moments passed like that until Nines regained control by hooking a leg over the human’s waist to slow him down.

“Fine. I confess. It was the leather jacket.”

“Seriously?”

Nines dug his heel into Gavin’s coccyx.

“It was everything about your appearance that you had control over… or weren’t born with at least. For instance, your face is conventionally attractive, but it’s all the lines and scars and little things that made me wonder what kind of a life you’d lived… what you might have gone through... how you came out stronger. And yes, your body is a temple, but it’s the work you put into it that I admire. You know how to take care of yourself and that’s…”

“Hot?”

“Hot.”

Nines accepted a rather sloppy kiss with grace. He rubbed his hands up and down his partner’s back.

“So. Tell me. What was it for you? What is it for you?”

Gavin’s right hand subconsciously found its way into Nines’ long hair and caressed his scalp. He sighed into the crook of Nines’ neck and took in the familiar scent that was neither entirely human nor entirely artificial. Everyone expected androids to smell like a new car but the fact was that each of them had their own unique smell. It was impossible to describe in words, but it was one of the many many things Gavin loved about Nines.

“Babe, I think you’re asking a shit ton of questions, but none of them are what you actually wanna ask.”

“Say more.”

“Gavin, do you love me because I look like a Greek god or is it because I’m smart as phck? Gavin, what did you notice first about my sexy android ass? Does the same thing get you off today, or is it something else?

I think… there’s something you already know… or something you think you know… and you’re just trying to get me to say it and dig myself into a giant hole.”

Nines didn’t respond but his LED did. Gavin chuckled and pressed his lips to the spinning yellow light.

“Called it.”

Nines rolled his eyes.

“It’s my hair, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Admit it, you’re obsessed with my hair.”

“And you’re obsessed with my tits. We take turns objectifying each other. First sign of a healthy relationship.”

The android’s sharp nose scrunched up at a particular word and Gavin closed his eyes in resignation. Despite his best efforts he’d walked right into the trap.

“Dammit, babe, I didn’t mean it like that. I would never ever see you as an object-”

“My, my… we’re lying here two years to the day we became…”

“A thing.”

“Yes. And here I am reminiscing about what made you even look at me in the first place… and it turns out the credit goes more to Cyberlife than it does to me.”

Gavin groaned while his lover’s tinkling laughter rang out. He had to think fast if he had to turn the tables.

“So I’m that slow?”

Nines looked back at him, confused.

“You just dragged MY instincts. Like I’m dumb enough to fall for a program written by some geeky little code nerd. Like it was all totally predetermined and I didn’t see you tease and flirt and practically fall over yourself trying to get my attention for months. Huh?”

Gavin tightened his grip and gave his partner an affirmative shake.

“All those outfits and nail colours and pointy shoes and sparkly, shiny things. You saw me looking and you just kept stepping it up.”

He grasped Nines’ jaw and kissed him firmly.

“And your hair, baby… yeah, some genius worked on the tech at some point… but they didn’t tell you how to wear it. They didn’t tell you about the length or cut or angle. They didn’t tell you to walk around looking like a phcking prince. They didn’t tell you to roll the car windows down on the highway so your hair could fly in my face and drive me phcking crazy…”

Gavin thrust his fingers into the dark locks and pulled the android back in for a series of open-mouthed kisses and tantalising swipes of his tongue. Nines started to reciprocate physically, but Gavin swatted his hands away, not wanting to let things go further without making it clear who had gained the upper hand in their ridiculous game. He broke away panting.

“I love you. Don’t ask me why because there isn't one single reason. And I phcking love your hair. Not just ’cause it’s pretty but ’cause you’re the only motherphcker in that precinct who’d show up to the gristliest of crime scenes looking like a runway model.”

They stared at each other. Nines’ LED flickered.

“I… wow, sweetheart… okayyy… I… love you too.”

A moment of silence passed and Gavin rounded things off with his classic double wink.

“You’re welcome.”

Nines smiled, accepting defeat. He reached up and carefully rearranged his hair, letting it fan out on the pillow. Unable to keep the smile off his face, Gavin dipped his head down and returned his lips to Nines’, kissing him under the covers until his LED spun bright blue.

Gavin Reed never had nice things… until he learnt how to take good care of them.

//

Part 2: Red Dress

[ragingbookdragon]

Lightning Strikes Across Our Skin

Barry Allen x Lanternsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This got farther away from me than I meant for it too, but oh well! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He loved her. He loved her more than anything in the entire multiverse. But when she and her brother got around one another—and truth be told, they were never not around each other; something about Blue and Green Lantern rings working best in each other’s range—they caused more trouble than he liked.

Hal was the antagonizer, and she was the instigator. And when they concocted a plan to get someone into trouble or just to piss someone off, they pulled the plan with perfection; the only thing worse than one Jordan barreling headfirst into danger was a second Jordan following behind with shouts of acclamation.

And poor Barry was stuck between the two of them when they did, like he always was—partially because he was the only one who could keep his best friend out of trouble, and the other part because he was the only one who could keep his girlfriend out of trouble too. That and because wherever a Lantern was, a Speedster was sure to be around too.

***

She slapped her hand against Hal’s chest, flipping the villain the middle finger in hope that it would anger them. “I’ll pay you half my stipend from the air base if you hit Weather Wizard with a lightning bolt.”

He snorted, creating another construct wall as a wave of ice came at them. “Isn’t that Barry’s thing, (Y/N)?”

Her eyes followed along the ground, watching as the yellow blur unraveled another tornado, speeding to another one. “He’s…wound up right now.” She turned, facing Weather Wizard. “C’mon pal! We’ve got better things to do than hang out here! And you’ve got a date in Iron Heights!”

The supervillain all but growled, slinging icicles and hail at her and she raised her arm, a blue aegis forming. The ice shattered against it, and she lowered her wrist. “This isn’t going to end like you want it too.”

“What I want isn’t comprehendible to the likes of you, you blue bitch.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “My name’s not blue bitch, pal.” She flew, landing behind Hal and no words needed to be said between the Jordan siblings as a cyan construct of a jet formed around them; Hal in the front and her behind like it’d always been. Their heads were cloaked in flight helmets. She reached up and flicked a button, listening to the engines roar. “It’s Blue Lantern.”

“Damn straight,” Hal asserted, and they both felt the tug as they sunk back in their seats, the construct hitting Mach one almost instantly.

Weather Wizard didn’t even know what hit him, because when it did, they broke the sound barrier, and even Barry skidded to a halt as the sonic boom shook the city around them; he huffed a laugh of disbelief as Hal did a second flyby and (Y/N) flipped him the bird again.

The construct faded and the two siblings split apart; she pointed to the cyclone Barry was heading for. “Green! Go help Flash! I’ve got this!”

He looked at her. “You sure?” when she nodded, he hesitated, but a quick glance towards Barry made him agree and he flew off.

(Y/N) turned back to the supervillain who was picking himself up off the rooftop of a building, grasping the golden scepter. She lowered down and gazed at him. “This can end right here, Mardon.” Gesturing to the stave, she said, “Give me the staff.”

The cyclone blew in the distance, signaling its end and Weather wizard looked at her. “You want the staff?” he raised it and her eyes followed it into the night sky, watching it churn black and cloudy even in the darkness, thunder rumbling wildly. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he bellowed, “Then take it!” he brought the staff down and (Y/N) barely had time to react as multiple bolts of white-hot lightning shot down, cracking against the concrete roof around them.

She raised her hands, trying to form a shield, but a stray bolt of electricity connected to her ring and just like a rod, she was lit up with strikes. A scream stuck in her throat as the lightning died out and she collapsed onto the roof, the blue suit fading from her body as she smoked.

Someone called her name from above, but she fell into darkness with a blur of red being the last thing she saw.

***

The second she came too, she screamed out in pain as her skin cracked across her body, burned and charred. Someone was holding her shoulder, effectively pinning her down, but only causing more pain.

“(Y/N), don’t move.” It was Barry.

She felt tears roll down her burned cheeks. “It hurts.”

He appeared in her vision, still in his suit, but his cowl off, face torn in despair, eyes heavy with concern. “I know, honey,” he implored. “I know it does, but I need you to stay still. Hal’s coming back with Saint Walker as fast as they can.”

His hand was so tight on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help but screech out, “Let go of me!”

Barry pulled from her as if she’d shot him and his face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, honey.”

(Y/N) didn’t really care what he meant to do, all she cared about was the fact that every inch of her body was covered in third degree burns and though most of her nerve ending were probably seared dead, she still felt the pain licking up her body in waves of never-ending, excruciating agony.

She wailed loudly and it took all Barry had in him not to cradle her in his arms. But all he could do was find a clean cloth and soak it in cool water, gently draping it over her forehead.

“I know, honey,” he whispered. “Just hang on.”

“Put me out,” she begged, and he gaped at her. “Please, put me out.” Her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist. “Please, Barry.”

He could only gaze at the woman he loved and nod, hurrying away and returning with a syringe full of anesthetic. “I love you,” he promised, sticking the needle into her arm and her head lolled back, eyes rolling into her skull.

***

When (Y/N) came to again, nothing hurt, and she blinked blearily, the ceiling of Barry’s bedroom clearing in her vision. She wiggled her fingers and toes, just to be sure they were still there and that she could move them, then she raised her arm into her sight. It was bare of any burns, and she sighed in relief. Saint Walker must’ve been able to regenerate most of her cells. (Y/N) was going to have to thank him when she got back to Odym.

Her eyes trailed from her arm to the window, and she was surprised to see the sun peeking through the curtains. She must’ve been out for hours.

(Y/N) sat up, glancing down at the state of her dress, and surmising that Barry had removed the remnants of her clothes and replaced them with a pair of his boxers and an old t-shirt. Speaking of Barry, she thought, looking around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She threw her legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cold, hardwood floor and she stood up, quietly walking out of the bedroom and into the hallway. No sounds emanated from the bathrooms, or the kitchen and her brows furrowed as she walked into the kitchen, confusion giving way to relief when she saw Barry curled up on the couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown down his waist.

Walking over, she sat down on the edge of the sofa, resting a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking as she murmured, “Barry.” He shifted ever so slightly, and she smiled, leaning down to murmur again, this time in his ear, “Flash.”

He jerked, effectively kissing her forehead with his own and (Y/N) recoiled with a shout of pain, dropping onto the floor as she cradled her head. “Jesus fuck, Barry!”

“(Y/N),” he said, blinking, realization setting in as he scrambled to get the cover off his legs. “(Y/N)!”

Barry slammed into her, arms and legs wrapping around her like he was a monkey, and she could only smile as she wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him close. He buried his face in her shoulder and soon she felt the dampness seep through the fabric and onto her skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried against her shoulder, and she reached up, running her fingers through his short blond hair.

“It’s okay, Barry.”

He pulled away, the tears pouring down his cheeks. “I wasn’t fast enough, and you almost died.”

(Y/N) took his face in her hands. “Hey, hey. Look at me.” He did so and she stated, “I engaged Mardon. What happened was on me, not you.” His lips parted, but she was quick to press her hand to them. “Barry, it wasn’t your fault.”

His blue eyes searched hers and he shook his head, evidently not satisfied with it, but he didn’t speak again, simply tucking her head under his chin, strong arms holding her tighter. “I love you,” he breathed against the crown of her head, and she reached up, running her fingers across his jaw.

“I love you, Barry.”

At some point they’d made it back to the bed, Barry only leaving for a few moments to get something for her to eat and drink, and when she’d finished, he’d curled up behind her, her resting back against his chest.

His hand traced patterns in the exposed skin of her arm and he murmured, “You were whimpering when I put you under.”

(Y/N) hummed, not really remembering much of the night; she’d been delirious. “How bad was it?”

The arm around her waist tightened. “Third degree over most of your body.” He sighed heavily against her head. “Saint Walker was exhausted when he was finished healing you.”

“I’ll have to thank him when I see him again.” She craned her neck, catching his eyes. “And I have you to thank for taking care of me while I was down.” (Y/N) reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Barry.”

He stared down at her and firmly said, “Don’t do that again. Okay?”

She smiled. “I won’t.” Brushing her fingers over his skin, her thumb caught his lip and she grinned when she felt the stickiness of Chapstick. She pulled away, snorting at his whine of displeasure, and turned, throwing a leg over his hips as she perched herself in his lap.

“Are you wearing Cherry Chapstick?” his response was cut off as she pressed her lips to his, swiping her tongue over his bottom lip. “Mmm,” she moaned. “You are.”

Barry barely had time to grasp at her hips before she was tipping his head back, kissing him harder. “What—what’s up with—Cherry Chapstick?” he panted between kisses, feeling heat coursing through him as she tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, lips moving in a hot streak down his jaw and neck.

“Tastes good,” she replied, sinking her teeth into his neck and Barry gasped, bucking against her. “Your pulse is racing.”

He couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled from his throat because he knew she’d said that to get a rise from him. “Honey,” he groaned and kissed him again until they were both gasping for breath.

(Y/N) gazed at her handiwork, Barry with his head resting against the headboard, eyes blown and dazed, lips bruised and kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed a pretty red. She swiped her tongue across her lower lip, smirking when Barry’s eyes followed the movement and murmured, “Tastes like cherries.” Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, holding back to ask, “Think you can slow down long enough?”

Barry grinned and flipped them, pressing her back into the bed. “I think I can manage that, honey.”

[blackvelvetwriteson]

Hey dear, it's me again, I wanted to say that I LOVED Holiday blues, it was so cute and I wonder if you could write a nsfw sequel, please? (only if you feel comfortable with it, otherwise feel free to ignore it).

Hi again! I love seeing your requests in my ask box it makes me feel amazing! I’m so glad you liked my writing, it means more to me than I can even express! I’ve got that request for you in; it was supposed to be done yesterday, but my tics were kicking in and I couldn’t concentrate- I hope this didn’t disappoint, and again thank you so much!

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

                                  (  ~ Kakashi Hatake x Black Female                                                                   Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!                                                                  

FANDOM: Naruto Shippuden

TRIGGER WARNINGS: SMUTTY! Kakashi’s not too kinky, but for today we have a breeding kink at play and light choking. It’s not too hardcore, but it’s still worth mentioning!

SUMMARY: This is a continuation of PART ONE and this time, Reader-Chan and Kakashi spend some time together after decorating the house for the holiday season.

Find Part 1 Here

WORD COUNT: 7572

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

      You relished in seeing your boyfriend’s sleeping face before you walked back into the kitchen. In truth, you’d already started dinner since hotpots were generally dishes that took too long to make. You sashayed into the kitchen and turned the heat up a little before skipping to a small closet you had where you’d hidden some holiday decorations; candles, tinsel, wreaths, and statues of little angels in a small box, your eyes gleaming as you bit your lip excitedly. You kneeled beside the box still in your boyfriend’s getup, happy that he wasn’t pissed at you for wearing his clothes, smiling because you figured out that he was in his funk because he hadn’t been sleeping well. You moved quickly to make sure everything got done so that you could go pumpkin hunting, or maybe you’d ask Sasuke or Naruto to go see if there were any that even grew in this region, I mean “Village Hidden in the Leaves,” should have plenty of different plants and such right? You giggled softly to yourself as you took out a string of lights that you’d never gotten to use and you plugged them in and stretched them out completely, watching all of the purples and blues, magenta, orange, reds and yellows glow and illuminate your living room, though they couldn’t compete with how your bright smile beamed around the room. “Woah,” you whispered softly as you gently touched the dull tips of the lights, watching the reflection on your hand.

“I forgot how much I loved these things,” you laughed softly looking in the box, seeing how many more lights you had than everything else. “…. Apparently,” you say quietly as you bite your lip. You move immediately to playing holiday music quietly as to not disturb your sleeping boyfriend, and then you get to work after checking the hotpot which was still simmering quite nicely under its cover giving the house scents of sweetened soy sauce, garlic, meats and other ingredients. You danced around happily to “Mary Did You Know,” even though you weren’t necessarily religious, the holiday music of the time really brought out your festive interior designing skills. You skip over to your open window as the skyline turns purple and blue with the seafood greens fading a little more prominently now. You kneeled down and waved at the kids who loved to observe you- mostly because you were so nice to them and actually interacted with them- and they giggled and grinned, waving back in return, deciding to stay a little longer just to watch. They could smell your dinner and one of them even approached as you climbed on your window sill, weaving the first strand of lights through the curtain rod deciding that you’d add more later if needed. You swayed your hips to the music startled by one of the small voices and you looked down with a closed eye grin. 

“Hey there! What can I do for ya today sweetheart,” you chime out happily as you look at the little girl and she smiles back up at you. 

“U-Um oh yeah! Mrs. Hatake- Sensei,” she said softly and your eyes widened a little as you shook your head.

“Oh, u-uh honey that’s not necessary. We ai… We’re not married- yet,” you say softly. She nodded and corrected herself.

“R-Right… I-I’m sorry,” she said softly as she tilted her head. “How’s Ms. Hatake- Chan?” She looked up at you cautiously before proceeding. You gently pet her head and smiled a little, wiping a little bit of glitter off of her cheek with your thumb. 

“That’s just fine sweetheart. What’s up?” You say softly as you sit down on the window sill with your feet hanging out of the window. “Just remember to keep it down y’all,” you say softly as you slowly moved one finger over your lips. “Kakashi -Sensei is sleeping right now,” you said cheerily while the other kids approached and surrounded you. 

“O-Oh I just wanted to say that y-your dinner smells really good,” she said softly starting to scratch behind her ear under her pigtails. “A-And I was also wondering what’s that?” She pointed inside at the tinsel. 

“Oh that?” You looked over your shoulder and smiled a little. “I’m just working on decorating the house… I mean… For the h-holidays. Where I’m from this is what we do and Kakashi- Sensei is letting me do it after a talk we had,” you say with a sweet smile as she nuzzles your lap. You gently pet her head while looking at the other kids. “Don’t worry your pretty little heads about a thing I’m gonna have something for all of y’all here soon. Actually,” you say with a soft grin, leaning forward as they gathered around. “Y’all can help me out right now. Y’all ever heard of a pumpkin,” you ask as you tilt your head. Only about 3 of them nod, the rest of them stared at you blankly ready to help you however you needed. “Y’all go with these three, they’ll show you, I promise. I’mma need about 4 or 5 of them, so if y’all work together and get some, I’ll have special treats for y’all by tomorrow night,” you say with a soft grin. Instantly they grouped up and set off in search of the pumpkins you needed all shouting “ARIGATO MS. HATAKE- CHAN,” at you over their shoulders once they were far enough away they thought they wouldn’t disturb Kakashi’s sleep. You watched until they were out of eyeshot, sliding back in your home and skipping over to the tinsel pile. You looked it all over and took a white tinsel string in your fingers, gently massaging the soft materiel through your fingers before hopping back up on the window sill, gently weaving the strand through the lights so none was obstructing the other. 

“Ooh this is so pretty,” you whisper softly as you finished braiding the tinsel and the lights with the curtain rod, hopping down and dancing around a little more as the song changed to one you haven’t heard since you were little about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. You giggled again and gently twirled around the living room with a red string of tinsel and sashayed over to your fireplace, setting it up so that you could place candles on the counter inside of the tinsel. You also decided, while you were at it, to spark up your  fireplace and turn your music up just a little. Your house already started to look more festive and you decided that, for the moment, you were done with the lights and tinsel so you didn’t overdo it. You gathered up some candles and some of the angel statues and you smiled as you hopped back over to your fireplace, setting the candles up in such a way that there was a fall one after a winter one surrounding the three angel statues you put up. You stroked their porcelain cheeks with your nail and hummed softly as you smiled a little. You sighed quietly as you hummed sweetly to the song, sparking up a couple of the fall oriented candles, not noticing that Kakashi had walked out of the room and closed the curtains and was now leaning against the wall staring at you with his arms crossed. You still swayed your hips slowly, deciding that there was a strip that could benefit from an extra string of lights, and because of said thought you made your way over to the box again, gently unrolling it and plugging it in. This time they were more neutral cream colored, your eyes glistening at the soft glow. “Woah,” you whispered softly as you wrapped the lights around your body and looked for something that you could stand on and a couple of sticky anchors that wouldn’t be too hard to take down after the fact. You licked over your bottom lip and hummed softly trying to look around for a chair. 

Meanwhile, Kakashi had followed you closely and quietly, smirking a little, gently kissing your neck, taking you by the lights and pulling you back into him. You jump a little before you hear his voice and you smiled a little.

“K-Kashi,” you whined softly as you tried to fight your way out of the lights but you were tangled and you didn’t want to mess anything up. “Y-You’re s’posed to be sleeping,” you say as you look over your shoulder and peer at his vague smirk. “What’s that look for? So help me, I’ll force your ass back into bed,” you say with a slight pout.

“Shhh, baby,” he hushed softly as he kissed your neck again, gently allowing his teeth to graze your neck. Then he started to speak again, kisses punctuating every other word. “You know… I did get some sleep though… Right,” he said as his hands made his way to your hips and he pulled you in more. “You’re… Still wearing my clothes,” he said softly as he nipped at your ear.

“Y-Yea so? What about i-it,” you said shakily trying to stifle your soft whimpers. “Why aint you asleep again? Wet dream or something,” you tease before he nodded.

“Actually, yes. It started as nightmares… Then I eased myself back to sleep after reading a book… Then I started thinking about you and I woke up grinding against a pillow,” he said bluntly causing your skin to burn with a practically scalding invisible blush. 

“I-IT WAS A JOKE,” you said as you turned your face away from him to hide as if he could see your blush even if he wanted to. 

“Was it? Oh… Well, I wasn’t joking,” he said softly as he pressed his bulge against you and your legs started to shake a little. “Can you feel it? This is what you wanted.. Right,” he asked as he turned your head to look at him and his vague smirk grew a little less vague. 

“K-Kakashi! B-Behave yourself,” you tried to command as you bit on the inside of your cheek. “D-Dinner should b-be done soon and I have kids that should be back soon… I asked them to pumpkin hunt for me,” you say as you fight your way out of his arms. “Can you please untangle me so I can go check our hotpot,” you ask as you spin on your heel and look at him. He just stands there with a challengingly teasing stare and then he walks over to the couch, tilting his head some. 

“I’m sleepy, baby,” he said in that deep raspy voice he took on when he was both tired and turned on. You were practically dripping just hearing him talk, and as much as you would have loved to hop on him right there, you had to behave yourself. He stared at the fireplace and ran his fingers through his fluffy icy white hair and turned the TV on but had it on mute so you could listen to your music. “Everything looks good though.”

“…. Fine if you wanna be like that,” you grumble before looking around for something and you spot a small cup on the counter. “Substitution Jutsu,” you mumble under your breath, making the hand sign needed just barely before you took the place of the cup and the cup was in the tangle of lights. “You aint gotta be like that,” you say softly as you move to untangle the lights, extremely relieved that the cup was empty. You sighed softly and looked over at where your future husband sat on the couch, just waiting a moment to stare at him. 

He had a pillow in his lap and his breaths were shaky and labored. You should’ve known that he’d take care of it himself, as he wasn’t much of a fighter when it came to things like this. He was too dense to realize when you wanted him and when you didn’t in actuality, and as a result, he never pushed because he never wanted you to be uncomfortable. He was only halfway paying attention to the TV, his eyes fluttering as he bit his lip and rutted his hips up into the pillow. His eyes glistened as he let out a sort of loud moan, his fingers digging into the cushion, his legs trembling a little as he moaned out your name sort of forgetting you were there in the same room as him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he tried to edge himself. You just sat there with butterflies erupting in your stomach, feeling your nipples get a little hard and press against your bra, and without even checking you knew that you were already completely soaked just hearing his smoky tone as he called out for you and only you. 

You pulled yourself out of your trance before going to check on your dinner, catching an earful of Kakashi orgasming on the couch, his breathing stalled as he broke out in a fit of small moans that were a bit whinier than usual and you noticed that they were also a little louder. You bit your lip before looking down at all of the boiled ingredients and sniffed it causing your eyes to water a little. “Goddamn,” you whispered softly as there were excited knocks on the door. “Perfect timing because dinner just finished,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking all of the perverse thoughts out of your head before hopping to the door. “Hey babes,” you say to all of the kids as you kneel down to their height. Each one of the kids carried a big pumpkin and a little one. “Oh my goodness! Look at all of these pumpkins,” you say with teary excited eyes. You thought for a moment before looking over your shoulder at Kakashi who was standing over you with a sort of aloof grin on his face. “You guys can come in for a moment if you want, just to put the pumpkins inside and say hello to Kakashi- Sensei,” you say as the kids start to shovel in your house looking at the pristine festive wonderland in awe.

“Right there in the pantry will be fine,” you say with a soft giggle as you watch them neatly stack the pumpkins. They all give a bow to Kakashi who, in turn, bows back. The other kids bounded outside with giggles of goodbye to play a little bit longer on their way home while two kids lingered back in the house hearing Carol of the Bells playing in your home.

“W-What’s this?” The little girl says softly as she looks over her shoulder at you. 

“Oh this? This is music… I hear you and your friends singing and chanting all the time… But this is a holiday song, actually it’s one of my favorites,” you say with a sheepish grin as you take the girl and her brother by the hand. Here, you guys can take a look around if you’d like,” you say softly as you look over at Kakashi. He just watched with that formal and withdrawn expression he usually carried, pulling his mask up once more around others. You led them into the living room and smiled a little at everything as the two kids looked around the room with dropped jaws.

You twirled the girl and she giggled as she stumbled into you and she looked up at you. You twirled the boy and he laughed softly as he looked around and then you started to sing, his eyes locked on you as you started to dance around with them in the living room.

“Hark how the bells sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away,” you sing quietly as you dance with the children who were giggling and swaying and with you. Kakashi had heard you singing before but only in soft mumbles, but as he heard you now singing and teaching the song to the children in the room, he felt a pang in his chest, his breath drawn from him, his eyes widening a little as he watched you dancing with the kids in your house. 

“Merry merry merry Christmas, merry merry merry Christmas,” you giggle softly as you sing and the kids mimic you laughing and spinning around the room as you smile wide at the kids and your eyes fall to Kakashi to see if he was irritated or if he wanted you to wrap your little encounter up but you just saw his starstruck eyes absolutely adoring you as you started to dance around with a soft twinkle in his eye, an opaque smile on his face. You grin at him and lift the little girl onto your shoulders, her legs draped over your shoulders as she looked down at you dancing with her brother. Kakashi took the sight in and he sucked in a sharp breath trying to keep himself calm, wishing that these village kids were his own with you as his wife. He looked down at his feet and he listened to the chiming giggles and your soothing singing voice.

“Yeah! It’s just like that sweetheart,” you giggle as you teach the boy some basic footwork that went along with the song, and as most of the shinobi kids did, he caught on rather quickly and he started to sing having caught onto the song quickly. “Hark how the bells sweet silver bells,” you broke out into a fit of giggles before you could even finish the line. You picked the little boy up in the middle of his spin and twirled with them in the middle of the room letting him rest on your bicep. “Say, have you little ones had dinner yet? I think we have more than enough to share,” you say softly as you kiss the side of the little boy’s head and he looked away.

“N-Not yet… B-But we won’t intrude! We’ll get dinner on our o-“

“Nonsense,” you giggle softly as you dance your way into the kitchen with the both of the kids and grab a couple of bowls out of the cupboard. “We’ll feed you… I know you two don’t take too kindly to sleeping in other people’s homes, but just know that if you guys need a place to stay at least through some rain or through the winter or something, our door is always open to you,” you breathed out quietly as you kissed the side of the girl’s head and the little boy’s cheek, spooning a bit of the hotpot into the bowls for the both of them, leaving the heat on simmer. “When’s the last time y’all had a MEAL to eat,” you questioned as you grabbed out two pairs of chopsticks and took them over to the table and set them down in their chairs, their eyes sparkling as they accepted your chopsticks. You gently run your fingers through their hair before looking up at Kakashi. You walk over and lead him over to the table as well, pulling a chair out for him and gently pushing him to sit into it. You walk back to the kitchen, the center of his attention as the kids started to poke around their bowls with salivating mouths. “Well… I m-mean I guess it’s been awhile,” they both whispered before taking small bites. 

Meanwhile, Kakashi’s eyes were locked on you, his eyes sparkling as he watched you make his bowl, his mind running. It raced with how natural you looked with kids, how when you walked he could tell that you could do everything on your own. He adored everything about you, how you don’t look at him like he needs to save you, with how you seem to always have a level head about anything and everything, how selfless and compassionate you were; especially when it came to the kids of the village. He let out a dreamy sigh as you walked back over to him with his bowl and a pair of chopsticks in hand. You giggled softly as you caught onto the gaze realizing this was one of the first times you were able to show him how good you were with kids. You set the bowl in front of him, handed him the chopsticks, hugged him from behind and gently kissed his cheek. “Let me know how everything tastes, alright? I’m not used to making Japanese foods, but I think I’m gettin’ a little bit of the hang of it,” you giggled softly as Kakashi leaned forward. 

“That’s false. She’s an amazing chef,” he ‘whispered’ to the kids and they both giggled and nodded in agreement. Your heart swelled as you squeezed his shoulders gently and made your way back to the kitchen to prepare your own bowl. Like with everything you do, you did it with tact, your eyes glistening as you did so, quickly skipping to the table to meet with everybody else. Like usual, you took your seat next to Kakashi, one of your legs in your lap as you bow a little.

“Itadakimasu,” you whisper softly before stirring everything up, gently scooping up some food and nibbling on it with glistening eyes. “Oh wow… I don’t know how it should taste, but I think this is pretty good,” you say softly as you look at everyone with your friendly grin. Kakashi nodded a little and kissed your cheek gently. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said in that seductive tone of his. “This is VERY well done… And in this very… Comfortable home… I could get used to this,” he said with a soft grin, kissing your cheek gently, his hand resting on your inner thigh causing your toes to curl a little and your breath to waver. 

“W-Well… I’m glad you like it, baby,” you say sweetly, kissing his forehead before pushing his head away so he could eat. The kids giggle as they quickly continue to shovel their food in their mouths, mumbling softly with mouthfuls of food in their mouths. “Hark how the bells sweet silver bells,” they managed to mumble before giggling softly. “I’m never gonna stop saying that,” the girl said quietly. You tilted your head a little and bit your lip a little before speaking up, brushing your curly hair out of your face. The glow cast through the home gave your skin a sort of golden aura and Kakashi couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He bit his lip and continued to eat, that same distant expression on his face upon first glance. You looked at the kids and your heart melted at how they teased each other, how they were so close because they didn’t necessarily have anywhere else to go. 

“You both are precious,” you say under your breath as you noticed they were close to finished eating. “Did y’all want some more or are you both good to go?” You stood up and grabbed their bowls and took them over to your sink, grabbing down 2 thermos jars and 4 large mason jars, filling every container to the brim with the remainder of the hotpot.

“I think we’re okay Ms. Hatake-Chan,” the boy said softly as he hopped down and he helped his sister out of the chair. They made their way to the door and you stopped them with frowning faces, kneeling in front of them with the armful of containers you prepared for them. “H-Huh?”

“Do you little ones have names,” you asked softly as you looked at each of them in the eye. They both shook their head and you sighed softly. “Alright… How about you,” you point to the girl. “We call you Lily-Chan because you’re as pretty as water lilies,” you say and that causes her to giggle and play with her fingers. “And you,” you pointed to the boy. “How ‘bout we call you… Sora- Chan, because Sora means universe in Japanese if I’m remembering correctly… And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, in this universe that’s greater than you,” you say softly as you kiss their foreheads gently and slide the thermoses and the mason jars in their bags. “I hear it’s supposed to be cold tonight, so you guys take care of yourselves,” she said as they both fought back tears. Lily and Sora stood side by side and bowed holding their hands and sniffing quietly.

“Arigato gozaimasu Ms. Hatake- Chan,” they said softly and you picked their heads up to make them look at you. 

“You’re very welcome darlings,” you said quietly as you fluffed their hair and opened the door for them and smiled watching them walk out of your home. You made sure to wait until they were out of eyeshot and then you closed the door and looked over your shoulder at Kakashi who’s arms were crossed as he stared at you. 

“You’re… So… Amazing,” he said slowly as he pulled his mask down and moved his icy white hair out of his face so that you could see him completely. 

“W-Well… I mean… It’s just being a decent h-human being and caring for them kids.. I always do anyways… And it looked like they hadn’t been eating. I didn’t invade space d-did I? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in your own home either. 

“No no no,” he said softly as he took you by the waist and pulled you closer. “If anything it made me realize that much more how bad I want to have a family with you,” he said before pressing a soft kiss into your plush lips, his tongue wasting no time, swiping over your bottom lip, soft groans escaping his lips. You whimpered softly, gently pushing your hands against his chest, allowing him to have the lead. He pushed you into the door and he bit your lip more rough than he had before. You whined as you ran your hand down his side and his back on down to his thigh, trying to force his leg in between yours. He smirked against your lips, his breathing slow and labored, soft growls threatening to spill out, his eyes halfway opened staring at you. His leg slipped in between yours and you immediately started to grind against his leg, his breathing only picking up a little, his free hand now running up your shirt, unclipping your bra in one slick move, his hand gently groping your chest as he let out low moans. His enthusiastic hand worked at teasing your nipples, his teeth bore at you a little as he watched you grinding needily against his stocky thigh. “You like that? Hm? G-Grinding on Sir’s thigh like that,” he said as he jolted his leg up into your cunnie causing your back to arch as you let out a soft cry. 

“Answer me, baby,” he said softly as he bit his lip, one of his hands moving to grip your neck, his finger squeezing a little as he growled near your ear. “And tell me how much you want me inside of you,” he growled before he bit the shell of your ear causing you to gasp, your core hot as you felt you became even more soaked, your lip quivering to the point that you could barely even answer.

“I-It feels so good, f-fuck~ K-Kakashi,” you whined softly, gripping to his shirt. “Baby!~ F-Fuck- P-Please keep teasing my nipples like that, sir,” you whispered softly looking up at his keen gaze staring into you. “I-I want t-to feel you inside of me,” you whined softly before reaching to kiss him again wanting to feel his satiny smooth tongue in your mouth again. You felt extremely needy, your legs damn near giving out under you. “Baby!” You threw your head back and leaned into him, your hips jolting into him, his eyes glistening as he looked you over. He picked you up and took you over to the couch, tossing you on the couch before crawling on top of you, gripping your neck again and pushing you into the couch as he peered down at you. He started to grind into you wanting your legs to pull him closer, trying to fight through his sensitivity just to please you. He couldn’t wait too much longer, however, lifting the shirt you stole from him, his lips locked around your nipple as he lazily pushed his pants down and he pulled yours down too, one hand kneading your breast as his fingers pushed themselves in between your legs, his slender fingers plunging into your tight dripping hole. Your back arches a little and you let out a loud whine as your legs’s hold on his hips firm a little and he smirked a little, the tips of his fingers stroking against your special spot without any effort from him, and every single time his fingers curled up, your toes curled too, and so did your back. Within minutes, the accuracy of his fingers; the pressure, the stroke of his fingers, the way it swiped right against your sweet spot; had you a babbling drooling mess underneath him and the only thing that you could mumble out was “Sir please,” and “More!” He felt how you clenched around him, slowly and surely losing control of your babbles, whines, and loud moans, already practically crying because of how overstimulated that g-spot of yours it. Your legs were trembling and already you were teetering on the edge of cumming for him, but you wanted to hold out for him. He saw how much you were struggling with just his fingers and with one swift movement you were sitting on his face, one leg hanging off of the couch. 

OH, it’d been awhile since THIS had happened. 

You couldn’t even ask a question or catch your breath before you felt his slick slippery tongue enter you, probing your insides to find that spot you loved to have stimulated so much. Your thick thighs suffocated him practically, but you didn’t care, his shaky breath against your drenched throbbing pussy only added to the feeling. Your back arched with each time his tongue fell flat against your slit and lapped up every single las drop of your juices, pushing hard against your clit before diving deep inside of you once again, sucking you down before cleaning you up again, repeating the process all over again. Each time, your leg jolted, your abs tightened, your nails dug into his thighs- making his cock twitch in his pants just for you- and you threw your head back trying to keep your moans quiet but failing. “K-KAKASHI! P-Please I ca-can’t take a-anymore o-or I’ll go c-crazy,” you whined out loudly as you started to bounce a little on his face, your whole body tremoring as you came over his face and his tongue. He decided that a soft laugh and his teeth gently nipping and tugging at your clit would be perfect for the moment and all you could do was orgasm, your eyes widening before clamping shut, your breaths drawn out, your hips grinding into his face, your hand squeezing and stroking at his bulge causing him to push his airy soft moans into your pussy as his tongue continued to circle and plow at your insides. He loved how it felt to have you clenched around his tongue, and he loved especially how it felt to have your throbbing clit grinding into him, your hand pleasing him as he tongue fucked you. All of his lewd noises made it back to you, his slurping, his moans, and the faint drunken mumbles of your name he managed in between bites and sucks, the way his tongue stirred you up making you practically fall apart on the same couch he pleased you on. At this point, you were still cumming, and you couldn’t stop, but the fact that he wouldn’t let up either was new so you weren’t quite sure how to handle it. Your body tried to jerk away from him, your hips jolting up and away from him, your tears streaming down your face as you mumbled please over and over and over again wanting him to stop but wanting more at the same time. He only responded with a harsh slap to your ass before locking his arms around your waist and holding you down on him while he finished basking in your flavor. You figured the only way to get him to stop was to return the favor, so while he was busy eating you out, you took his cock in your hands, sucking on the plush tip that was dripping with precum already. He let out a soft moan into your cunnie and you felt his back arch under you, his cock twitching in your hands as you swirled your flat tongue around his tip to collect any of the escaping precum, your fingers steady stroking the rest of his length, your fingers feeling out every single vein and detail as you continued to try and jerk your hips away from Kakashi’s face. You couldn’t help but to let your moans and harsh breaths dance on his cock as you pleased him and he pleased you. You completely ate his flavor up, your eyes glistening before they shut and you continued to ride his tongue. You sucked hard, your cheeks hollowing out causing his back to arch even more, his dull nails trying to work into your thighs as you teased him by the inch, your tongue pressing him into the roof of your mouth which drove him absolutely insane. He whined out as his legs jerked a little, his arms not budging with letting you go. 

“Please,” you whine softly. “I-Inside,” you slurred out as you took him all the way down your throat, gagging around him, making sure your throat choked his cock out. His eyes glistened as he looked down at you, gagging and choking on his dick, his hips jolting trying to get in deeper but he couldn’t. It got to the point where you felt you were going to pass out so you stopped and came up for air, your soft whines barely audible to him. You tried your best to hold your noises but you couldn’t, squeaking as he pushed you forward a little. He hugged onto you as he slid himself inside, his lips pushing out his soft shuddery moan into your ear as you arched your back and slowly started to push yourself back on him. He already felt like he was going to pass out just from how well your throat choked his cock out and you couldn’t help but to bury your face into the couch as Kakashi gyrated his strong hips, grinding you into the palatial cushion. You couldn’t help but to push yourself back against him, even the slow pace he was known for about to make you cum again. He reached deep inside of you, and you forced him to go even deeper as you grinded your hips against him. He reached under your hair and grabbed your neck from behind, squeezing gently as he leaned forward again to nibble at your ear, whispering sweetly to you, your eyes barely even able to stay open. You clenching around him made him see stars, practically drooling over you, but while you couldn’t keep it together, he had to in order to drive you all the way to home base with pleasure. 

“Do you l-like it like this,” he whispered quietly in your ear, his labored breaths and soft moans melted into your ear again as he slowed down even more, his hips still strong as he reached inside of you. “H-Hm? A-Answer me, Blossom,” he commanded as he pulled your hips against him and held you in place feeling your slick riding all the way down his cock, his back arching a little. 

“P-Please, Sir,” you whine out quietly barely even able to speak that’s just how braindead you were from how much pleasure you were receiving. “M-More! N-Need… More,” you gasped out and he smirked with a soft hum of approval, his hands gripping the arm of the couch now as his legs became a little more stable and solid, his lips still touching your ear, his teeth nibbling away at the outer shell, his eyes glistening as he edged himself at your expense. You looked over your shoulder at him and he truly looked like a divine icon; the way he started to rock into you, a small bulge forming in your stomach because of it, the way every single one of his muscles flexed with even the smallest move, the way that the candles, fireplace, and the faint light from the TV cast a glow on him that was unmatched, carving his features out more, his body blanketed by a body of sweat, his expression quirked with how well you clenched around him. 

“I want you,” he mumbled softly in your ear, his speech and breathing short and choppy as he pounded into you a bit quicker, not meaning to be as rough as he was. “I w-want to e-expand our family,” he breathed out as his moans became more needy, his hips slapping against yours sloppily. Honestly, this was the fastest he’d ever fucked you, and at this point you were stuck seeing stars with your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your golden glow cast by the lights around you only making Kakashi more aroused. It was obvious that he was way more vulnerable, you could hear it in his moans, feel it in every single movement that he made, you saw it in the way that one of his hands moved from death gripping at the arm of the couch to tenderly slap, tug, and caress your beautiful brown skin. Tendrils of his hair fell just before his eyes, his eyes halfway closed, his body encompassing your own as you both fell into a quick rhythm. Your body was on fire with his next words, your eyes widening and glistening with tears that fell down your cheeks from how good he was making you feel; “I-I want to ma-marry you,” he groaned out in a choked moan before he slowed to an almost stop and he turned your head towards him, gently pressing his lips against yours again, his hand riding your side as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers feeling over your soft stomach, all the way up to grope at your chest so gently, even as your back still arched up into him. You both were a mess of moans, drooling over each other as you tangled your tongues, your teeth nipping at one another gently, your hand on one of his, your eyes now completely closed as he pushed you into the couch more, your clammy bodies trembling against one another before pulling away just to stare at each other.

“Please,�� he said softly as he started to pound into you again. “I’m g-going to cum… D-Don’t look away from me,” he said softly, his glazed eyes holding back tears as he gritted his teeth a little. “I want t-to look in your eyes as w-we watch each other… F-Fall apart,” he choked out quietly, towering over you, tilting your head up so that you were staring at him. He fed you sloppy kisses as he pushed against your special spot, and it took another hard clench from you to send him orgasming again, his teeth clamping down on your lip before he pulled away, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his body quaking and vibrating the whole couch as he allowed his body to tense up, his hips to slam into you one final time, sharply chasing after air that didn’t want to come down, choked moans leaving him, his lips barely brushing against yours as he reached his climax, painting your insides white as they overflowed with his cum. Your own body gave out as you came, pressing your body up against his, your nails digging into his hand, your eyes crossing as you drooled out, screaming out his name, your trembling body falling against the couch as you allowed Kakashi to gently and slowly ride out his high, every single stroke hitting you at a different angle making your body twitch and tingle before you felt him pull out. He watched his cum mix with yours as it spilled out of you and he smiled at the bulge he could feel with his tender fingers as he caressed your body. He laid down behind you, his muscular body now completely relaxed as he just tried to catch his breath. He looked up at the movie playing on TV, spooning you from behind, covering the both of you with the throw that you decorated the couch with earlier. His strong arms made you feel protected, and when you were like this, both of your guards were let down and you let the love that you had for one another protect you both. His fingers danced over your skin and he moved your hair as he gently fed you kisses to your neck, your shoulder, and the top of your back as you absentmindedly played with his fingers and watched the movie that was on TV; which by the way was Home Alone. 

“I meant what I said,” Kakashi chimed sweetly in your ear and suddenly those butterflies were back in your stomach. “I want to marry you, Blossom,” he whispered softly. “I want you to be the mother of my kids… I want to spend the entire rest of my life with you,” he said softly, sounding like he was about to cry. You heard his breath shake and you could tell his sincerity and that made your heart absolutely melt for your man. 

“I would absolutely love to be Mrs. Kakashi Hatake,” you say softly, leaning your head back into his body, your eyes peering at him from below. He looks down at you, a blush nipping at his cheeks as you giggle softly, your hand reaching up to caress his tensed jaw. “And I would love to mother your children… I want you,” you echoed back to him softly, a small smile showing itself as he held your hand against his face. He couldn’t do anything but allow himself to truly fall apart, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let himself cry quietly, still kissing your shoulder and neck whenever he could. “Aww… My beautiful boyfriend,” you whispered softly, gently playing in his hair as he wept into you, clinging to you, trembling, completely emotional, raw, and vulnerable. You adored that he trusted you enough to show this other side of himself to you, and you also relished in his confessions to you, having never been told such sweet things before. “Is that what you were thinking about when I was taking care of Lily and Sora,” you ask sweetly, smiling at him over your shoulder. He looks up at you with puffy red eyes, smiling just a hint as he nodded at you. 

“It’s just… How you… Always look after people, especially kids I just… I admire it a great deal Blossom,” he said softly as you giggled. “You invited them into your home, and danced around with them… And fed them and gave them food… And opened your home up to them…. I can’t just… Ignore that. Especially because you’re the life of this village,” he chimed softly. “I have never seen these people so hopeful or lively… I have never seen the kids so open to playing outside… I have never seen people support each other here like they do now until you got here and spread a little bit of your magic around… And yet nobody takes care of the village kids… Ever. You love them, I can see that, and they love you too. Every day I have people coming to me; ‘hey can you tell Ms. Hatake-Chan thanks for’ this that or whatever,” he said softly, his eyes peering deep into yours and you tried to fight back your own tears. You didn’t realize how much of a role you played in the village because it didn’t even feel like a chore. It was what came natural to you, and you loved that you could create such a difference in just a couple of years. 

“I’m just doing what I love to do,” you whispered softly as you kissed along his jawline. “I love you so much, Kakashi Hatake,” you say as you lull him to sleep again, not wanting to until he was at ease. You sat up a little and allowed him to use your chest as a pillow, his arms still holding you tight, keeping you close, and you never felt more safe. “You’re my king… And I’m your queen… You’re all mine, nothing’s gonna change that,” you whispered softly as you watched his eyes close. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled sleepily, a small half smile creeping on his face as he slipped off into dreamland and you divided your attention between the movie and your sleeping boyfriend wanting to watch both of them over until you allowed your drowsiness to take over completely.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 17

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

“Push me off the roof you coward!”

First< Previous > Next

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“So do you want to be Batman or should I?” Marion brings out the two outfits identical in every way except size.

“It’s not actually dressing up,” Marinette scolds fixing her hair.

“Well then you single handedly ruined halloween,” Marion grins coming up behind her, “Everyone wears them for it,”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Marinette watches him warily in the mirror, prepared to defend if-when he makes a move to mess up her hair.

“So Batman or Robin?” Marion holds the outfits up, dangerous close to her head.

“I don’t care,” Marinette stands up, spinning around, using the chair as a shield.

“Coin flip then,” Marion drapes them over the chair, “Oooh foreshadowing!”

“Please tell me you're going to take this marginally seriously?” Marinette leans back on the dresser as he fishes for a coin.

“You’re starting to sound like our manager,” Marion flips the coin with extra flare, “Heads,”

“You should thank Kate for setting this up,” Marinette catches the coin before he can, “Tails,”

She takes the Robin outfit from the chair, ducking Marion as she passes.

“You know I don’t think Kate wants to see me,” Marion takes his outfit behind the opposite curtain, “She's pretty stressed something will go wrong,”

“In Gotham?” Marinette pokes her head out the curtain on the other side of the room.

“I know, crazy right,” Marion also peaks through the curtain, “Where would she get that idea?”

“Who knows?” Marinette cheekily grins before ducking back behind the curtain.

“If we get attacked again I think we might give aunt- I mean,” Marion pauses pulling on his grey turtleneck, “ugh, this is hard,”

“Mari, the outfits are designed for easy use,” Marinette teases, tone sounding half hearted even from this distance.

“What are you calling her in your head?” Marion pulls the turtle neck down all the way.

“Selina,” Marinette answers, as he shrugs on his hooded crop top over the turtleneck, split into two colours to make a vague bat-shape. “Although I just avoid saying it out loud,”

“Great minds think alike,” Marion pulls on his grey leggings, that Marinette had thankfully made into thermals.

“I’m the only great mind here,” Marinette teases, Marion lets out fake gasp as he pulls a pair of shorts over his leggings, “You just like to copy,”

“How dare you!” Marion pulls the curtains aside dramatically, Marinette doesn't even look up from where she's putting on bracelets, “Dishonour! Dishonour on you, Dishonour on your kwami! Dis-”

“Hey!” Tikki flies out of the backpack.

“Sorry Tikki,” Marion looks away from the fuming Kwami, trying to avoid her by pulling on his black and blue boots.

“It’s ok Tikki,” Marinette finishes putting green and gold bracelets up to her elbows, “He’s just trying to be funny,”

“And succeeding!” Marion corrects, smoothing a mask over his eyes.

“Ah-ha,” Marinette stands, black and yellow scarf flaring out at the back.

“You know I don’t think she agrees,” Marion stage whispers to Plagg from his bag.

“Ah-ha,” Plagg says in the same tone, as Marion is pulling on his black gloves.

“Traitors, all of you,”

“Hey look,” Marinette bumps his shoulder, nodding towards someone.

“It’s Jason,” Marion whispers back excitedly, moving to wave.

“MCD doesn't know him,” Marinette grabs his arm, “Let’s hope this isn’t as awkward as it was with Chloe,”

“I thought that was fun,”

“Of course you did,”

"Hi," Jason approaches nervously, completely different to how Marion's met him before, it's cute.

"Oh hello, stranger," Marion grins, ignoring the kick from Marinette, he'll be careful, it's fine he's got this, "Whats your name?"

"Jason," Oh my God he's blushing!

"Jasin," Marion repeats pretending to write on what he was handed.

"Um…." Jason looks like he's about to correct Marion, this will be perfect- "yep,"

Fuck fuck fuck i though he would correct me fuck, Marinette help!  Marinette rolls her eyes at his pleading look.

"Jason, CD," Pointing to the page without writing, "son,"

"Ohhhh Jason,” Marion says, as if he had come to some amazing realisation, Marinette looks like she wants to slap him, “haha, sorry, of course, I just didn’t hear you right, because I don’t know your name, why would I know your name? It's-"

Marinette rightfully cuts off his rambling with a swift kick, that both knew would never actually hurt him. At least Jason looks just as embarrassed as him, neither quite knowing how to start the conversation back up,"

"How about we take a picture?" Marinette says, their saving grace.

"Yeah, that would be great," Jason fumbles for his phone, Marion hopes his mask will cover his blush, as he remembers what Jason had said about him at dinner, the only reason he was blushing.

They take a nice picture together. Then one where Marion throws bunny ears behind MDC. She swats his hand away and he pushes her out of frame. The next picture is one of him and Jason with Marinette rising up, like a threatening blur in the background.

"Aw thats a nice picture" Marion looks over Jason shoulder, they were meant to be with the next person already but they were a design hopeful, babbling to MDC about her designs, "You should send it to me,"

"Of course," Jason seems flustered with his proximity, enough so that he didn't see Marion's trap.

"Great heres my number," Marion quickly writes it down on blank piece of paper, a picture seeming a bit too narcissistic at that point.

"...Waut,"

"Well you have to send it to me someway," Marion shrugs, conveniently ignori-forgetting that pictures were sent through his social media all the time.

"Right... right," Jason seems to be in a bit of a daze when Marion sends him off, standing next to Marinette as the fan leaves.

They watch Jason leave. Marinette starts giggling when he almost runs into a wall.

“Are you ok?" Marion asks, partly for the security guard who was waiting for their ok to send the next person up.

“You are such a dork,” She breaths through her upcoming laughter, “I think I need a minute,”

“Fine but if I get a hopeful fashion designer I’m telling them your new direction is crocs,” Marion huffs, not really insulted, but if he didn't act it she would only up the anti.

“Do it and your casket will be made out of crocs,” Marinette threatens ineffectively, walking to the backstage door.

“I kinda want to see that,”

“You’d be dead,” Marinette calls from the door.

“Minor issue,”

Marinette waves him off, which could have been an aborted swat. He watches as the crowd nearby begin whispering, some offering others to go first to stall for time. Marion plans to shove this in her face next time Marinette claims she isn’t popular. He’s about to take a camera out for evidence when one of the groups, fast tracked but the crowd, approaches.

Marion goes to do his more basic greetings when a gun is shoved in his face. The group made up of armed men surrounding him, one holding a camera.

“Smile for the camera,” The figure pulls his coat back, revealing the frankly disturbing face of the Joker.

“Oh it’s you,” Marion keeps a blank face, evidently confusing him, “Any chance two-face will show up?”

“.... No?” Marion fights to keep his composure as the crowd are threatened by the remaining thugs, pushing them to the ground.

“Pity, what a waste of good foreshadowing,” Marion shrugs casually, that camera is probably filming.

“What,” Marion supposes its a rare thing to see the Joker taken aback, but watching a group of armed men storm backstage distracts him from the sight.

“Nothing, I just made a brilliant joke earlier and you're sort of ruining it,” Marion makes exaggerated gestures, testing his limits, the guns follow him but don’t shoot. “Anyway are you here for an autograph or what?”

“I’m not-” He watches the Joker's face twist in gruesome realisation, “you’re trying to stall me,”

“Stall you from what?” Marion tries not to make his scan of the crowd obvious, “Please go in depth,”

“How about on the way up to the roof?” Chilling smile, but Marion is too used to fear to let it get to him.

“Oh goodie, I hear it has wonderful views,” Marion claps his hands, probably getting weird looks from the goons hiding behind masks, but who are they to judge?

He’s guided to the elevator. The Joker making the mistake of not tying his hands, or gagging him. He feels Kaalki and Plagg tense in his pocket.

“Huh, no elevator music,” Marion observes as the elevator starts to rise, “I just kind of expected it at this point,”

“You are strange,” Marion makes the mistake of glancing over, the Joker does not seem perturbed by that fact.

“You’re telling me that?” Marion tilts his head, “Actually that's quite the achievement,”

The Joker starts to go on about his plan, something about throwing MCD off the roof in front of the crowd for whatever reason, he’s not really listening. No, instead he’s made his own plan. There's no way Marinette was caught, not when she has no one to look after. She must be somewhere in the building, probably as Sparrow. It’s best if Sparrow and Songbird are seen near their other identities as little as possible, so he had to deal with the camera. If she saw the footage, which was probably being broadcast (a brilliant idea, really, no problems with that) she would intercept them. The best position would be on the elevator, but he had to buy time.

The cameras closest so he strikes, hitting it out of the goons hand, mid sentence. In the split second confusion he hits the number panel, lighting up all but a few.

“Huh, that was easy,” Marion says with genuine surprise.

“And here I thought you were being a good hostage,” Marion feels several guns press against him, but it’s only the pistol with the Joker at the end that worries him.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Marion smirks cockily, the threats turning more violent.

No, not threats, promises. Marion debates calling on Kaalki, while he’s still able too. It wouldn’t be great for a miraculous to be seen in a different country, but better than the one that can teleport than Ladybug. If Marinette couldn’t stop them in time she would surely turn to Ladybug and pick him up as he falls, right in front of the crowd and cameras. Not great.

There were other heroes in Gotham, they both knew. And if it was just him at stake he would put faith in them. But it’s not. He’s Chat Noir and there's not enough time to train a new Black Cat, not anymore.

The elevator finally reaches the top. Marion braces to help Marinette fight on the other side of the door. It opens. There’s no one. Great, great, great .

“Well, well, well why don’t we see what's behind that mask and carve up your pretty face, hm?” Joker leads him close enough to the edge of the building that anyone else should be scared.

“That sounds counter productive,” Might as well try plan b, he should have come up with one, but as is he’ll have to wing it, “Weren’t you going to throw me off the roof?”

“Eager aren't you?” Not really  “After, promise,”

That grin paired with the knife inching closer should scare him, but honestly the only thing that truly scares him anymore is someone going for his ring, or Ladybug’s.

“What's the point? I’d be dead soon anyway, sounds like a waste of time,” Marion debates adding a yawn to match the tone, but it seems like overkill.

“A few screams are never a waste of time,” Marion is backed up further to the edge of the roof, able to see the fretting crowd below.

“Sounds to me like you just don’t have any confidence,” Marion says with all the sass he can muster, which is a lot.

“Oh, do explain,” The knife inching closer to the edge of his mask encourages the opposite, but he was never much good with warnings.

“If you really believe your plan will work and I wouldn’t be saved by I-don’t-know, Batman?” Yep that strikes a cord, probably not the best cord to strike with a knife in your face, oh well his wounds will heal soon anyway, “Then you’d throw me over the roof, a few cuts doesn't matter much when your dead,”

He can see the gears turning, debating if there's merit to his bullshit or if it’s just that. Honestly Marion doesn't know either.

“Revealing my identity and stuff is just a way for you to feel like you’ve won when Batman beats you,” He carefully doesn't emphasise the ‘when’, making it sound casual, like a given fact, “Cutting my face is just admitting you think the heroes will win,”

Just a little bit more. He’s almost pulled off plan ‘b’ for bat-shit crazy. He has the horse miraculous in his grip, Kaalki won’t like it but it's hard to put glasses on in mid air.

“Besides, won’t the mask leave a bit more impact?”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

“You really think the Bats going to save you huh?” The grin is unnerving, so Marion matches it with one of his own.

“I do,” He challenges, chin tilted up, “do you,”

He hears a cackle that would have surely appeared in his fear toxin dream if he heard it before. He’s pushed, vest twisted in the jokers grip, trying to stay balanced on the very edge.

“I like you kid,” And yeah, by that smile it’s not a good thing.

“Goodie,” Marion says sardonically, ignoring the shouting below, probably because his torso is all the way off the edge.

“Make sure to scream,” He feels the grip loosen, not having the natural response to grab onto something.

“I won’t,” he sends one last smirk as he’s dropped, weight sending him off balance and off the edge.

He’s in free fall and knows the screaming is not his own. He’s too busy debating the right time to transform. The street is getting closer and closer, no staff or grappling hook to save him.

“Klakki!-”

The air gets knocked out of him at the sudden change in directions. He can feel the arm and hears the glass shattering. For all the speed of a few seconds ago he is not expecting the quiet that follows. He’s leaning forward against someone's chest, both crouched down inside the building he just fell from. He recognises the shade of red first, Marinette had spent weeks with it pinned up all over their room and Marion has been wearing it ever since. He relaxes.

“Are you ok?” He gets pulled back from the chest, his complaints are cut off, a gloved hand tracing over his cheek, he feels the sting so it must be cut.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Probably not convincing, since his crush is the closest he’s ever been and Marion is almost the same shade of red.

“You’re fine?” The disbelief is clear and it takes Marion a second to realise why.

“I mean… Oh no! Trauma!” Marion tries to fall dramatically but the arm still on his back catches him.

“Good thing you’re a popstar not an actor,” Marion feels relief at the stiff atmosphere relaxing.

“Excuse you,” He snaps back up, poking Red Hood’s chest, smirking, “I’d make a wonderful actor,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Red Hood looks away, as far as Marion can tell with the helmet, “You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, are you?” Marion stresses, remembering that he broke through the glass.

“... what?” Red Hood's full attention comes back to him.

“Are you ok?” Marion tries not to get annoyed at the answer, humour then, “After all breaking through a window isn’t much fun,”

You idiot you can't use his line on him ! Not in different identities! What if he figures it out?!

“Yeah.. yeah," He looks away again, "I’m… great,”

Marion smiles, guess things did turn out great in the end.

“CD!” Marion jumps out his skin, both suddenly realising how they looked and stand, Marinette runs right up to him, “Are you ok!?”

“Yep I’m… great,” Marion exchanges a private glance with Red Hood as Marinette frets over him.

“Thank goodness,” She sighs, shoulders sagging, then coming back up to hit him over the head, “Then why are you such an idiot!”

“Natural talent?” Marion rubs the spot, she put some Ladybug strength in that one.

“At least you’re good at something,” She sighs, brushing her hand over the spot.

“Rude,” Marion pouts, even as his head feels better, and his cut is startling to close up.

“If every things ok then,” Red Hood says awkwardly, “I’ve got a clown to go beat up,”

I Forgot!! How do you forget that! Marion yells at himself When your crush saves you from falling to your death…. Less romantic than it seemed in the moment.

“Have fun….” Marion waves, increasing the awkwardness ten fold, “dear god, I am an idiot!”

He groans into Marinette's shoulder after Red Hood left.

“Yes, but blush later, we need to be ready to provide backup,” Marinette pulls him out of the room stepping over broken glass.

“Uh- yeah! Right! lets go,” Marion snaps out of it, running after her.

“You are such a mess,” She insults as they jog, or with their speed, sprint up the stairs.

“Of all people you don’t get to call me that,” Marion needn't remind her of how she spilt orange juice all over herself at breakfast.

“... You just fell off a building, I was talking about your clothes,” Marinette has on her, ‘you’re an idiot’ face, well practiced that one.

“Oh,”

“But yeah you are a walking disaster,” She speeds up.

“Hey!” Marion sprints after her.

They reach the roof, not as out of breath as they should be.

“I thought I told you to stay put?” Red Hood snaps, alone on the roof.

“You didn’t,” They chorus coincidentally.

“I thought you had common sense,”

“We don’t,” They chorus on purpose.

Red Hood just shakes his head, probably smiling under the helmet.

“So the Joker escaped?” Marinette is the first to wipe the grin off her face.

“He was gone when I got up here,” Red Hood shrugs, “Waiting on intel,”

Probably from oracle.

“I didn’t say thank you!” Marion realises, not used to being the one saved.

“You don’t have to,” He looks away again, “Just doing my job,”

“But I want to,” Marion walks into his line of sight “So thank you,”

“Yeah well… thanks too I guess,” He looks away again and it's starting to get annoying.

“For what,” Marion leans over enough that he should be in sight, but he can't see his eye to confirm.

“I like the outfit you designed off me,” Marion freezes, almost stumbling over, “The interview was… entertaining,”

With that killing blow, a grappling hook is sent out and Red Hook is whisked away.

“.... Hey, can I borrow your miraculous?” Marion says blankly when Marinette comes to stand by him, “I need to wish myself out of existence real quick,”

----------------

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Thoughts on the costuming of Bad Buddy (a thread*)

Episode 8 (3/3): The Friends

There's so much I want to write about this week that I've had to break it down into three different posts: one for Ink and Pa; one for Pat and Pran; and one about the Friends. But here's the Friends,

Ooof, this feels like a difficult one to write about...I might get rambly and predictive rather than reflective...but I'll do my best to be succinct. I'm going to start at the end of the episode and Wai in the lighting/sound booth. At first glance Wai's t-shirt looked to be a light shade of green - signifying that he's potentially an obstacle to Pat and Pran's happiness, the cause of conflict - BUT I believe it's actually a pastel/baby blue (and therefore indicating that he's not as bad as he seems 🤞🏽 haha...ha...h...🤡). Hear me out...

Earlier in the episode Pran is in the lighting/sound booth in his sandy coloured top with what looks like green stripes (on the right below - note the dark green headphones too). Aha!, I thought, it's because he's hearing the gossip about Pat and who he might be dating from the people on stage - cue conflict and angst. But later, both times when Pran is backstage speaking with Pat, the stripes are actually a dark blue (on the left below, and even looked black at times). What's my take on this? Well, I think the light in the sound/lighting booth has a green hue to it, changing the colours of the clothes. Why is this important?

Well, Wai in a pale blue actually suggests a support of Pat (and therefore Pran's relationship to him) whether that's now or in the future. It's a weak support, at best, and something has made him drop the curtain to reveal Pat and Pran's relationship...but I'll get back to this in a moment.

Earlier in the episode, when he's looking for Pa and then drinking with Pran, Wai is also in blue (in fact it's the only colour he wears this episode)...but this time it's a richer, brighter shade. There's even a lovely blue light in the fridge to the left of him. (Note also the beautiful lighting behind Pran as he talks - with the red, blue, and mint green lights to his right and the yellow to his left. I love the way Pran is still managing to smile through his reflections about how exhausting their secret relationship is...because, even though he says it's something he tries to avoid, his expression says otherwise. 💛)

Now, here's my (clown) theory: If the rumour is true that Wai was the one to see Pat and Pran in the car earlier, then he might have used the conversation outside the uni to test Pran about his feelings for Pat (by threatening to beat Pat up). Then in the bar, whilst Pran talks about how difficult it would be to date Pa, Wai would know Pran's really talking about the difficulties he's facing in dating Pat. I think (again clowning here) that Wai might actually feel sympathy for Pran and want to help him but isn't sure how. (I would love it if he had actually said to Pran here, "hey man, I know about you and Pat, why don't you talk to me about it" but I don't think he did [silly boy]). Anyway, Wai might potentially reason for himself that revealing Pat and Pran's secret relationship would actually relieve this pressure that Pran feels (not condoning this btw - he was wrong no matter the reason) and enable Pran to live freer. So, I don't think Wai dropped the curtain out of spite or hatred. And adding on to that, I don't think he'll be the one to tell Pran's mum. This is because at some point we will get this:

We get Squad Goals™. The architecture and engineering groups uniting together. And this can only happen if whatever reason Wai has to drop the curtain is acceptable enough for Pran (and Pat) to forgive him (which might not be acceptable to us, because no one should out someone else, do I need to keep saying it?)...so I don't think Wai can be that bad. Btw, I also noticed in the credits that these two moments (below) of each group separately might be just before they meet and join up (above) since they're all in exactly the same clothes:

Wai is still very much in favour with Pran, so I don't think he is an out-and-out villain. He's mis-guided, perhaps, but I think he's done what he's done out of somewhat good intentions (again, not saying it was ok) and I cannot wait to find out what his excuse is. 🤨 @thecookiemonster77 wrote a theory about how the fallout from dropping the curtain might be that Wai becomes gradually isolated from his friends (in a parallel to Pat and Pran becoming accepted) and I like the potential of scenario...but as I've already said, he will eventually be forgiven and brought back into the unified squad.

Now for the other friends. We don't see much of them this episode, just for the rugby practice and at the end when some are suspiciously in the theatre for the reveal. The trailer for episode 9 suggests Pat and Pran will have a hard time with their friends...but I hope their clothes are actually foreshadowing the opposite. Safe and Louis are in both Pran and Pat's colours - Safe in red, and Louis in blue stripes. I've already written about my predictions (or hope) that Safe will be the Best Boy™ of architecture and the voice of reason for the group 🤞🏽 so let's hope they will be supportive.

Korn is also in blue with a bit of pink. He looks taken aback, curious, a little shocked...but despite the ominous dark green t-shirt, I don't think he's going to ostracise Pat like the preview suggests.

First, my prediction was right that the engineering group was going to be supportive of Pat hitting on someone from architecture when they found out. In episode 8 they're in red and pink when grilling Pat and they say that Pat's "so cool" and that they "admire him so much". Sounds pretty positive...

However, in the preview it seems Korn has done a one-eighty - telling Pat that only engineers can sit and that "no outsiders allowed". I'm hoping here that Korn is just teasing Pat and we're being fed a big ole fat red herring. Why is this? Well, going off previous previews, we can't trust a single thing we see/hear but also...I can't help but notice the mint green cap the girl is wearing in the background. A very thin thread, admittedly, but I'm hanging on to it for dear life until I'm proven otherwise 😂🤡

So, circling back to Wai and Pran... Next week there will be animosity between them but they will have to work together on the play. It's interesting that both are in black t-shirts here (Wai's is under a white shirt) - one of the first times Pran has worn black (Wai has worn black with another colour a few times already). And before anyone says, I know it's customary in theatre for technicians/backstage personal to wear black...but it has also been set up in the story so that Pran can wear black here - perhaps symbolising how dark he feels about the situation, how overwhelmed and heavy.

Anyway, whatever is going on I do think there is a lot about the situation we don't know, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed for 'good intentions manifested badly' rather than 'outright spite and dickery'. 🤞🏽🙏🏽✨🤡

[Ep 1] [Ep 2] [Ep 3] [Ep 4] [Ep 5] [Ep 6] [Ep 7] [Ep 8] [Ep 9] [Ep 10]

[katsukisbeatingheart]

capella and rigel

au where you don’t see color until you meet your soulmate. they come to you one at a time the longer you’re together.

word count: 2,530

a.n.: you guys are BREAKING MY HEART you’ve been so sweet and receptive with the last one ( sing to me ) im such a mess ( ´༎ຶv༎ຶ`) i SEE YOU i WILL kiss you i am not playing. anyway!! im posting these soulmate works in an order backwards from which i started - which is funny, because that way it goes from least angstish to most. 

here are the others!

Shinso

Sero

Bakugou

ao3

When the blue exploded, you weren’t ready for your world to change with a rushing suddenness. You were blindsided with the odd experience of a first time that felt like memory.

First off, you didn’t know how you knew blue would be it, but you did.

When someone told you that’s what color that sweater you liked to wear all the time was, you just knew. When someone told you that’s what color some of your favorite fruits were, you just knew. When someone told you that’s what color the sky was, you just knew.

When someone told you that’s what color the ocean was—because it reflected the sky—you cried because you just knew.

There was something revelatory of such a relationship—the rhapsodic truth that two forces of nature could be reflections of the other, even with completely opposing standpoints.

In your greyscale vacuum, you were none the wiser to a life that could promise that yet. From a young age, you hoped and prayed for that day to come, until it became a hapless strain of static that took a backseat to growing up.

In general, you hadn’t known what to expect; you imagined that cats were probably the color of sprinkles on ice cream, trees were balloons floating in the air, and pavements were the color of spring. When you looked up to the night, you thought that stars might be like lighting a candle. You thought that might mean yellow.

And even when it was so dark, you hoped the sky would still be blue.

It tore through every crevice of your vision, crowding your sight and singeing your senses.

Blue wasn’t supposed to come to you in a maelstrom on a previously peaceful Sunday morning. It wasn’t supposed to burn through the pages of one of your favorite books, or weld your utensils together.

It was supposed to bump into you on a tramline station, at a park, in a crowd, and then apologise quickly; it was supposed to be in widening eyes and stuttering breaths that gave you a name you’d knew like an old friend you had yet to meet.

It wasn’t supposed to be in so much pain.

It wasn’t supposed to cause any of it, either.

You’re on your back, starry eyed and afraid all at once, suffering the memory of your first time seeing color. It’s burning you, you realize, and the tears evaporate before they touch skin.

Blue fire is attention grabbing—it’s blue, you know it is—and watching it move like you imagined blue waves would was mesmerizing. It soaked the ground with scorch marks, scarring bedlam and terror into the earth.

Your eyes blown wide catch every moment, frozen in blue.

Though, as more of the hue crops up in all different directions, your eyes are suddenly the only part of you that can’t sit still. If the fire does anything else better than burn, it’s cast light—as it throws your vision farther than usual.

You don’t miss a single detail.

The sea of people around you scatter in fear— there’s chaos but you just can’t move—and you’re anchored to the ground like roots of a tree that didn’t get to choose its growing place. You’re trapped somewhere off centre in a spiraling vortex of entropy simultaneously inhaling and granting your newfound freedom.

Across the street in spots on a mailbox, the smallest pieces detailed the metal in cool colored rivets; in the scorching bed along the stone wall cafe lay crisped, blue calla lilies; the delicate hue accented in little flora shaded your spilled and shattered tea glass.

With the proximity of unimaginable heat, noise, and overall calamity shuffling so quickly around you, you felt encased in time. An hourglass tipped in your throat and the scalding sands ran through your veins. The inferno raged on until you noticed your place in it. It spun in a tempest around you and everything melted away.

Your vision shifts and you find the catalyst to be a tall, dark, and lanky shadow of a man. He contrasted the unyielding light—that he was producing, you agnised—to an almost sardonic degree. He held his hands in his pockets and shoulders in a slouch that said all of this was of no consequence, concern, or effort to him. He looked bored.

That is, until he saw you, too.

Freezing blue eyes glistened back at you in a cacophony of emotions.

There’s comprehension, apprehension, indignation—you try to settle on one, though absolutely fruitless with a whirlpool of your own at your feet.

You tried to speak your disbelief, a sense of joy, a simple admission to life, but your voice died on your tongue. The fumes coiled at your throat, still you held your ground. It was all you could do in your dormancy, and it was all you were going to do on the precipice of eruption.

It was like watching someone conduct a hurricane, what he did next.

His hands hummed an unknown melody to the flames, and you watched and waited and listened to the music that poured out if him—quickly becoming a little more afraid at the prospect of becoming an unwittingly unwilling participant from the audience.

However, the coiling and dissipation of the blue told you that this was the grand finale, and in a voiceless and motionless dance, he swayed out of sight under the haze of blue hellfire—so searing it was cold to the touch.

•.•.•.

When the heroes arrived, the police whisked you away to take your statement and check for injuries. It was like talking—and mostly listening—through a thick pane of glass, though. You said very little, and perceived even less.

What were you going to do? Include in your witness report that the perpetrator was your soulmate? That fact alone changed everything, and you knew that if you were to speak up about it now, the authorities would take you in. You weren’t about to be used as an asset when you had barely any time to process the truth yourself.

Everything was running smoothly, until the heroes came around to check on the injured. An expressionless man with two-toned hair and a nasty scar over his eye stepped before you, an ‘Are you alright?’ soft on his lips, contrasting the sternness in his features.

You took one look at the color of his left eye and fainted against the ambulance doors.

•.•.•.

Waking in a sweating bundle on your bedcovers was not a good way to end the day. It skewed your sense of reality, and you had to wrestle away the idea that the whole thing might have been a dream. The headache didn’t help, but it was proof you know what you saw. And what you were currently seeing.

A lot of everything else was still in greyscale, but your eyes weren’t lying to you as you took in your room. Blue comic books, pens, decals, posters, pictures; the laundry overflowed your basket, spilling in a pile of blue onto your carpet.

Blue eyes in the corner of your room.

“What did you see?” you whispered. He’s there like the shade of gossamer window curtains, a figureless concept of existence, and yet you speak knowing he’s suddenly the most solid thing there.

“You.”

You inhaled sharply, barely a pinprick to the weight in the room.

“You know that’s not what I mean. I’m not a color.”

“You were the brightest thing there. Might as well have been.”

“Impossible,” you laughed, waving your hand absently to dismiss your incredulity. “You set everything on fire.”

“Makes no difference,” he affirmed in a tone that sounded rich, drawled, and deep like molasses and a smoky room. There was silence as his voice drizzled along your skin, a safe distance in the uncertainty. It doesn’t break, even when you speak the opposite of what you should be uncertain about.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yet here I am.”

There’s a flutter by your open window, and you unfold yourself from your stagnant place on your bed. Without argument, you wisp to its side, facing the world like it was unchanged.

His presence is permeable next to you, yet you were sure you had never felt anything as real.

Everything and nothing was the same.

“What do you see?”

“Still you.”

You glance to the side and see an almost facetious simper gliding across his features, even though you knew he was probably being anything but flippant.

“Dabi.”

He shifted almost imperceptibly, coiling with the dark to a time and space closer. He smelled like amber pine and sawdust, collecting evening dew.

“So you do know who I am.”

You picked at the peeling paint along the sill. It was still white.

“I follow the news. I’ve seen your face stuck to faded alley posters.”

“Now what would you be doing in alleyways?” He chuckled lowly through thinly veiled, amused bewilderment.

So he didn’t know who you were.

Just as well, it wasn’t like you lived a life of any consequence.

Truth was, you were simply a curious person with an awkward and clumsy sense of direction—finding yourself on adventures you could easily get yourself out of, only with a little time, effort, and backtracking. Even though you’d much rather see it through to the end, no matter how dark, twisted, or ugly.

The truth wasn’t meant to be pretty.

But he didn’t need to know that.

And if this were to keep up anyway, he’d find out soon enough.

You peered at him through your eyelashes and his shape almost disappeared. Instead, you leaned forward into the open world, trying to catch life as it moved below you. Your eyes spotted grass and trees, and you gasped before you could stop yourself.

“They’re green.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You turned your head to face him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I’ve never seen green before.”

He’s quiet as he stares at you. He had leaned against the wall beside you, hip and head propped like he wouldn’t rather be looking anywhere else. You stare back softly, still not used to the visceral experience in eye contact.

“What do you see?” he asks like holding glass. You’re tempted to keep it to yourself for at least a day longer—safeguard the truth like you were the only one in the world who could see colors. An innocent secret you’d never have to share with anybody.

And yet here was a thread presented to you by the universe, asking to be pulled from the tangle.

You looked at his frayed edges and twisted knots, feeling your own pull tighten like a lifeline.

“Blue,” you breathe. He’s beside you now, angled to the open window, eyes still burning answers and questions—so many questions—across your very surface.

You both stretch out, casting your eyes up to the night sky, in your own world like he wasn’t who he was and you weren’t who you were. Collected in a jar of your own making, you spill your breath across the open air, and he’s there with you like a pooling splash of ink you don’t want out. Oh, the memories you could write with him.

“So these are the stars, huh?” his tone hasn’t lifted from that tedium, but he talks like he’s standing among them.

Tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t tell whether from happiness or nostalgia or disappointment or confusion or another nameless thing—you only knew that you were looking at the stars. You were looking at the night sky and suddenly seeing the stars, and—

“Some of them are blue.”

Dabi traces the bottom hemline of your sweater with his thumb, breathing clearer air than he had in a long, long time.

“There’s yellow up there, too.”

The tears spill down your cheeks, but his hand is there to catch them with cracked fingertips.

“You know,” you begin with a small sniffle, “I don’t remember the night being this… luminous.” His face splits in to a grin.

“That’s your fault.”

You roll your eyes, peeling back to lightly shove against his arm. You had barely touched him, but his heart beats as though he’d been caught in an earthquake. He’s unsteady, and grows more and more terrified by the second of the anchor in your eyes. He’s not strong enough to try and move it.

You watched him pull back, startled by the alertness in his movements. He sweeps his legs up and over the side, perched on the windowsill as though he made to jump through it.

“You’re leaving?”

“I thought you were the one who said I shouldn’t be here,” he grinned, though not without that bitter glint in his already harshly blue eyes. Your lip finds its place pulled between your teeth.

“I think there are still some things I want to see.” You glance to the side, searching for words in the spots of color blooming along the edges of your world. “With you.”

Dabi bridges small gaps between you two—some rickety and many burnt, but still there—leaving space for you to jump ship. His fingers brush warm trails across the skin of your face again, like forfeiting a whittling candelabrum to the shaking hands of a blind man.

You suppose someone like him defies all laws, even the ones of the natural world as he ghosts down the siding of the building, just another wandering shade looking for its way back.

In a day of unforseens, you try and convince yourself that it was the stars that got to you. It’s easier to place blame on things you can’t control, and part of you feels liberated knowing this was just not one of those things you were meant to expect. You let your hopes and predictions solidify the labyrinthian ground you walk on.

But as you lean through the window, you call out to him and realize you’re swallowing your assumptions like antifreeze.

“Wait!”

His head turns to the side to catch you pouring out of your mundane and into his living underworld.

“You have to come back.” The yellow on your sweater burns into your irises, and he has never been more wary of his place in the universe. Especially when it glows back at him through the eyes of a future he didn’t know he even had.

“I want to know what sunrises look like.”

The tempest in him glares up at the beacon your window—no—you provide and he feels a weird, opposing sense of mitigation and incertitude. A ubiquitous tangibility his first instinct declares a malignant impediment.

Still, he can’t help but feel as though a tide were in the process of crashing his lifeboat—a stray piece of driftwood—on to obscure shores.

That can’t be all that much of a bad thing, he considers.

With a small, barely there and imperceptibly honest smile, he places a two fingered tap to the crown of his forehead—throwing an ignition to the wind in a quiet promise.

The light fades, and you clutch the matchstick, watching the blue disappear with him into the dark of night.

[codename-adler]

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt.IV

In times of college finals, aftg is my coping mechanism of predilection. hope it helps some :)

>> Table of Contents,TW and other parts here!

i’ll let you guess what Kevin and Juliet chose for their project

oh, yes

the letters of Hamilton, Eliza and John + Hamilton: The Musical

i will fight you on this

at first, when Juliet suggests it, Kevin stares at her so hard bc really?? a musical??

but then she lends him the 50$ leatherbound official book of the musical (you know the navy blue and beige one? you know what i’m talking about, right?) and reads it all in one evening and wow

lin-manuel miranda? genius. ron chernow? Genius. alexander hamilton? Dumb Genius.

oh yeah and Juliet? Absolutely mind-blowing genius.

as Andrew & Neil grow closer and the match agaisnt the Ravens rounds the corner, Kevin finds himself looking more and more forward to the time spent at the library with Juliet

she is just so focused on their project and so oblivious as who he really is and doesn’t really care if sometimes he is more anxious, if freaks over everything to be perfect, if he babbles on&on&on&on about any bit of history he discovered

she’s just there, smirking, stiffling her laughs and asking for more

they’ve exhanged phone numbers and she installed snapchat on his, and although he never sends her anything, she always has a short video and a funny caption that pop up from time to time; they’re that little reminder that the world goes on outside of exy and that he exists outside of exy

she introduces him to funny videos and he didn’t know absolute dumb shit could make him snort??

his favorite is the peanut butter baby

at first the Foxes give him this judgemental look when he ugly-snorts in the locker room or at Eden’s, but eventually they just get that glint in their eyes as if they were in on the jokes

sometimes, Juliet’s so focused on writing down bullet points in her notebook, peeling the skin off her lips, so unaware of Kevin’s personal hell of a life, that he just wants to spill out everything

although he’s not sure if it’s because he wants her to know him and stay, or because he wants her to reject him and therefore spare himself the trouble of getting attached...

she takes the decision for him

on a Thursday afternoon, on their planned study session, she doesn’t show up

she doesn’t answer her phone either

he even tries out a completely blacked out snap with “r u alive?” in caption

no answer

he gives her space, sending her occasional cat videos he thoroughly researches

if she watches them, she doesn’t say anything

on Monday afternoon, she doesn’t come to class

that’s when the panic Kevin’s been reigning in just... bursts

what if it’s Riko? 

what if it’s the Master?

what if it’s Ichirou?

what if, somehow, it’s the Butcher’s people?

that afternoon’s practice is hell for the Foxes, Kevin is ruthless and an asshole and very agressive

Dan waits for him outside the boys’ locker room as all the other Foxes leave (not even Andrew and Neil want to wait for him)

“Spit out your goddamn problem before I tell Coach to bench you next game”

oh, how Kevin wants to cuss her out

and then he looks  at her face, ready to vomit words, when he sees her worrying her lips

just like Juliet

it shouldn’t be enough to make him tear up, but it does

he still manages to keep as much of the truth to himself as he possibly can

“My EAL partner isn’t responding to my messages or my calls and she didn’t even come to class today and it stresses me the fuck out and what if it’s like with Neil, Dan?” he says in one breath, trying to tear out the net of his racket

Dan recomposes her face and gets that very serious look, the one she usually gets when someone touches her family

“It’s not, Kevin. That’s over. We got Neil back, we got you back, you got Jean back. The team didn’t even know who that person was. The most info we’ve gathered is what you just told me now. Yeah there are some bets but it’s mostly for funsies, nothing even remotely serious. You wanna look for her?” she soothes him.

“I don’t even know...”

“She lives on campus?” she asks.

“I don’t- I don’t know, Dan. I spent months with her and I can’t even vaguely say where she lives! How fucked up is that?” Kevin yells.

“It’s not even remotely fucked up, Kevin. You should know that. Does she have instagram? twitter? Or like, facebook?” she questions some more.

“God, I don’t know. She only sends me stupid fucking videos and I never even respond like the goddamn asshole I am...”

“Shut up. We’re all assholes at the end of the road, ‘kay? You ain’t better or worse than others. Now she sends them to you in text or somewhere else?”

“Sometimes texts... Sometimes the yellow app, the chat one. Why.”

“Oh great, that’s great. We can locate her, with snapchat, if she forgot to turn off the sharing. And if you’re comfortable with that, too. I know you’re not a creep like that. You’re creepy sometimes, don’t get me wrong. But, not a creep.”

“Gee, thanks, Dan.”

“Hey, shush. You down or what?” she says, arching an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he answers, unable to make the fear go away without knowing for sure.

And so it turns out Juliet’s location is, in fact, knowable. Dan grabs one of Kevin’s shoulders as he leaves the court, squeezing her affection into her grip; he nods emotionally in her direction, as far as emotions can translate unto his face.

he doesn’t even know what he’ll do once he finds her, his brain is solely focused on the animated map that brings him closer and closer to Juliet

the more he progresses, the more he realizes he is far from Fox Tower, on a campus area he has never even seen

he stops before a decrepit building, old and moldy-looking

Jackie Kennedy Hall

student dorms? this shabby? she can’t possibly live-

except that she can, because there isn’t another building close and the map has brought him here, and he doesn’t really know her...

so Kevin straightens his shoulders, inhales deeply, and goes inside

he could go on and on and on about everything that is just wrong with the place, from the smell to the decoration, but he makes a beeline for the front desk (he’s lucky there’s even one)

he asks for a way to contact someone, flashes his press smile at the women behind the desk, gives up his ID in exchange for the room number

Juliet Grier, 418

stairs, stairs, stairs, stairs

heavy door, right, 412, 414, 416...

418

what, now?

Kevin hesitantly knocks once, twice

no answer

he knocks again and decides to speak up, in case she didn’t hear

“Juliet? It’s Kevin. Day. From EAL? Can I speak with you?”

still nothing

maybe she isn’t home... no, the map says she’s here. maybe she’s sleeping...

he decides to try one last time

“We really should finish that project, you know? I think we could both use the free time...” he says without his heart into it.

without surprise, no response still

he decides to take a loose paper from his sachel and writes down some words

Greetings Hi,

My friend Dan helped me look for you, but you don’t have to worry about your privacy; it’s because of the yellow app. You should turn that off if you don’t want other people to be nosy. 

You weren’t in class today. I’ll share my notes if you want them. But, you should come to class, it’s better. For learning. 

I’ll wait a few in case you’re asleep. 

Text me or call me or whatever when you’re ready.

- Kevin D. (your partner from EAL)

quick, efficient, to the point

Kevin slips the paper under the door, and waits

he refreshes the map too many times, to see if her location changed or if somehow there was a glitch

it stays put

he ends up sitting on the hallway floor, his back sliding down the wall

he catches up on a book for another class, checks exy stats and watches many, many videos of Jeremy Knox on the court and in interview

some students pass him with a nasty look, eyeing the lack of earphones on his phone

some other students walk by him and will themselves to keep going, because holy shit it’s Kevin Day in Jackie Hall

it’s at least an hour and a half before the doorknob slowly and quietly starts to click

Kevin was absorbed deep into whatever move Knox was making before scoring

the 418 door opens

Kevin gets up in one move, all things Jeremy Knox and exy forgotten

she’s loosely holding Kevin’s paper in one hand, the other clutching a large scarf that covers up the majority of her body

from what he can see, though, she’s wearing sweats from head to toe; her hair’s tied on the top of her head, but most of the curls escaped and it looks unwashed and her curls, dry

her skin’s turned pale, dark circles under her eyes, a haggard look in them, her cheeks stained with dry tears

Juliet looks terrible

“Hi...” Kevin attempts

she finally looks up from the paper and gives him a bored look that could rival Andrew’s

with a rough voice strained from cries and many days without speaking, she asks, “My EAL partner?”

“Well, yes. In case.”

“In case of what.”

“I-”

“I know who you are, Kevin.”

and isn’t that both his most ardent wish and his worse fear?

with that, she turns around and goes back to her dark room, leaving the door open behind her

is that... an invitation?

Kevin’s never been to another person’s place, apart from the Columbia house, Abby’s and Wymack’s

he reminds himself why he came in the first place and decides it would be a waste to leave now, right?

the small studio is a mess, much like its occupant

there are clothes everywhere, on the floor, on a chair, on the bed, on the desk

all the curtains are drawn, no light is on, the only source coming from Juliet’s laptop somewhere amongst her bedsheets

it’s like she made herself a nest and hasn’t moved from there for a long time

maybe even since last Monday, the last time he saw her

Kevin doesn’t understand the scene he has before his eyes

he’s never seen such apathy in someone that is not Andrew

and at this point, apathy is pretty much Andrew’s default state of being

not Juliet’s

Juliet is a soft glow, toothy grins, wild curls, countless jumpers, dumb jokes and references, color-coded notes, an organized mind, unwavering focus and determination, flowing words and warm, kind eyes...

so what is this?

then Kevin realizes he spoke aloud

and Juliet can only chuckle sadly, almost mockingly

“This? This is why I don’t have friends. This is why I don’t mix with people. This is why I’ll never amount to anything in life. This is my dirty laundry, both metaphorically and literally. This is it. That’s... That’s it. This is what I get,” she answers flatly

Kevin’s mind is spinning

he doesn’t understand

he needs to understand, though

“Explain it to me,” he says

Juliet looks at him like a brick just hit him on the head and made him speak Swedish

“Why.”

“Because, surely there’s a way to work with it.”

she laughs

it doesn’t reach her eyes, nor her lips or her cheeks

it’s just a desperate sound

it makes him think of Andrew again

and that gives him an idea, a gut feeling, if you will

“Can I try something out?” he asks

“Kevin... I can’t- I’m tired... It’s not a good idea... I’m tired, Kevin,” Juliet responds, pain noticeable in her voice and her movements slow

“I know, I- I know. Someone I know... He plays this game. It’s really not a game, it’s more like a communication thing. He calls it “A Truth for a Truth”.  In exchange for something I tell you, you tell me something. And in exchange for something you tell me, I’ll tell you something else. It’s made me... work through some things... before,” Kevin explains calmly

Juliet keeps on observing him from her bed, silent

“Look, can I just stay here to do homework? I have nowhere to go right now,” Kevin asks, almost blurting out “Please” before Andrew’s ghost caught it in his throat

she lies back down, burries herself in her covers, a silent “yes”

Kevin ends up falling asleep sitting on the floor, books open, head resting at the end of Juliet’s bed

he wakes up around 2 AM

he’s got multiple texts from Aaron and Nicky, one from Andrew, and one from Dan

“told everybody you spent the night at Coach’s. take care.”

he silently vows to thank her later

now he either really goes to Wymack’s to finish his night there, or... he stays exactly where he is

Juliet is still sleeping soundly

in a haze, he palms for a pillow or cushion, pulls his hoodie on and lies back down on the carpeted floor

he’s only awaken in the late morning when he brutally gets stepped on

“What the shit?? Kevin! How...???” Juliet yells

“Um, ow? No, no, don’t apologize so quickly. You just, you know, crushed my lungs and a couple of ribs, no worries, Jules!” Kevin groans

“Ju- you know what? I’m not sorry. Right now I gotta pee, so you better have a damn good explanation when I get back,” she replies and leaves her room to go to the bathroom at the end of the hall

instead of dread, Kevin feels calm about the upcoming conversation

he doesn’t prepare lies, doesn’t run away, doesn’t resort to assholery

he just stays put where he is on the floor, snuggles deeper into his hoodie, and waits for relief, for the truth

he waits for Juliet

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read Into Me Chapter Two: The Importance of Being Earnest

Steve Harrington x Reader

Catch up on the series HERE

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: Swearing, death illusion

Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I promise that the next one is longer! Also, some of the tags aren’t working for some users, so I’m so sorry if you aren’t getting notifications for this series! If you know how to fix this lemme know!

Tags: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​  @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-whole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unussuallchild10 @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @lilmissperfectlyimperfect​

Steve was so very fucked. He’d been sat at his desk since he got home from school and could not think of a single fucking thing to write. He’d had his notebook open, his typewriter loaded with paper, pen uncapped and waiting to be used, and the most work he’d done was chew on its blue cap. He just couldn’t think.

Writing was not his thing. Reading was not his thing. School was not his thing. He had lines of trophies on his nearly empty shelf-swim meet, track and field, basketball, and baseball for one summer in fifth grade. He could understand how to play a sport. That was competitive, improvisational, and had a core outcome-you won, lost, or tied. The same three outcomes with a million ways to do it, a million variables to get in the way. Math and science were the same, he could swing Cs and Bs in those classes, but English was the opposite. There were too many opinions. Too many options. When he managed to read one of the assigned books for class and not merely the Cliff’s Notes, he found he had nothing to say about it. Everything the author said felt true, even when his teachers were telling him to look for specific things in the narrative. Sure, if someone told him that the conch shell in Lord of the Flies meant something, but if you asked him what he wouldn’t know. And he would believe you if you said that the conch shell didn’t mean anything. His essays were all crap.

He thought about calling Nancy. Nancy would know exactly how to help him, she always did. But Nancy was with Jonathan now and he wasn’t confident that they were still friends at all. If they were ever friends. He didn’t think that they were. They weren’t really friends before they dated. Still, his hand hovered over the egg shell white rotary phone on his desk, a gift from his eleventh birthday. He lifted the phone off its hook, dialling the number off by heart. It took three rings for someone to pick up.

“Eleven?��� Mike Wheeler’s frantic voice came through the other end. Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, the boy was far too attached to that girl, it was honestly concerning.

“Nah dude it’s Steve, your sister around?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s out with Jonathan.” Mike’s voice dropped into one of boredom. “You know, her boyfriend?” he was such a little shit sometimes.

“Yeah, I know dipshit, you wanna tell her I called when she gets back?” Steve huffed back.

“If I remember.” With that, the call went dead. Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. What a fucking waste of time. He’d never hear back now, that kid didn’t like him from the start and would do whatever he could to keep them from being friends.

What was to be done now? He didn’t have anything to say about his spring break! Mr. Lawrence was a bastard for even asking him to write about it. Nothing happened! His parents went to Miami Beach to rekindle their marriage for the hundredth time and left Steve at home alone. He tried to throw a party but almost got busted by the cops with a fake ID at the Pick n’ Save and Tommy’s brother wouldn’t give them any weed to supplement what would’ve been a pretty dry party. He cancelled the party after that and sat at home alone. Nothing much to tell about and definitely wouldn’t fill a page, even if he used the longest words he knew.

Steve stood from his desk, looking through his shelf till he found the heavy yellow pages he’d put on the bottom of his shelf to weigh the sucker down so it wouldn’t fall over as fast. He flipped it open, searching through the numbers till he found what he was looking for, lifting the receiver off its hook again.

Across the street, you were sprawled out on your rose printed bedspread, your head in your hands with Samantha sat on your desk chair, laughing at your pain. “You know it’s not that bad, right? You could’ve gotten stuck with someone way worse.” She said, mindlessly digging through the black jewellery box sat dusty in the corner of your desk. Your mother had sent it from Spain and had filled it with different things she found across Europe. You didn’t care much for the stuff yourself but you kept it on your desk to show that you used it, not that she was ever home to seemed to notice.

Your bedroom was clean and stark white. It used to be pink, to match the rest of your white iron rod and pink padded furniture. You didn’t like the pink that much, and you didn’t adore the white, but you could hide it behind the art you tacked to the wall. Every portrait, still life, and landscape painting you’d been proud of hung proudly in your home gallery. You’d done recreations of your favourite album covers, and splatter art with balloons, and a few charcoal drawings of your grandparents and your father. You’d painted clouds and stars on your ceiling when you were in middle school, and while they had a lot of room for improvement, you left them above your head as a comfort to you. Your father had helped you scrape the popcorn ceiling down flat and helped paint the ceiling sky blue. It was your last project together.

“Oh yeah totally…” you said through your hands, refusing to look at her, focusing instead on the yellow sun spots floating under your eyelids.

“I mean, you could’ve gotten stuck with Tracy Lords again, she’s in that class.” Samantha replied easily, pulling out a green sea glass bangle from the top drawer, running her fingers over the red velvet interior of the box. Tracy Lords was a menace to productivity, at least she was according to Samantha. They had issues, which meant that you did too by association, but she’d done nothing to you except glare and pop her gum at you.

“At least she does her work!” you sat up, letting your feet dangle over your bed. “I don’t think he’s ever done his work on time, he’s always late with stuff!”

“That’s not your problem; as long as you do your work then Lawrence won’t care.” She flashed the bangle in front of your face “You should wear this more it’s nice.”

You shrugged “You can have it if you want.” You didn’t really care about what your mother sent you, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t care enough about you to be home for more than a month out of the year. Besides, where on earth were you supposed to wear any of it? Your mother loved to spend your father’s riches on random, useless crap and you hated the idea of showing off the money your father died for. It wasn’t anything to brag about.

“Nah, not my style, it won’t match any of my stuff.” She put the bracelet back, closing the box with a metallic thump. “But anyway, you’ll be fine. Steve’s completely harmless.” You weren’t exactly sure if you believed her.

The phone on your desk blared loudly. You begrudgingly jumped off the bed, pulling it off the hook. Your grandmother was still at the hair salon and if you didn’t answer, one of her little friends from the old folk’s home might think that she died again.

“Hello?” you asked, motioning for Samantha to move over a bit, closing your white curtains closed again, your eyes scanning the streets with a bored expression.

“Hey is this Y/N?” Steve asked cautiously. He couldn’t quite remember your voice but he had double checked your last name in the year book and the phone book.

“Yeah, who is this?” dread filled your stomach the second he spoke, you were hoping against hope that it wasn’t Steve. You could see him pacing his window from across the street.

“Hey it’s Steve from English?” Fucking hell. You wanted to slam the damn receiver onto its hook. But if you did that, Samantha would think that you were crazy and you didn’t want to seem like such a baby.

“Oh hey what’s up?” you asked cautiously. Samantha was pulling at your sleeve, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ at you. You pulled your arm away, pushing her chair away from you with your foot.

“Oh nothing much, I was just wondering how your paper’s going?” Steve didn’t really know why he called you, he wasn’t certain that you’d even help him if he asked. He hardly knew you, he couldn’t name two things about you. But you seemed smart, you could be of some help if he had the balls to ask for it.

“Oh um…it’s fine. How’s yours going?” your hand came to the back of your neck, rubbing it awkwardly. You wanted to run away, to utterly disappear into another dimension. You didn’t like strangers, especially the whole small talk part. You didn’t feel like you had anything interesting to say about yourself and you hated silence. Your mind just didn’t come up with questions to ask.

Steve’s face burned. He couldn’t admit that he was stupid now; he was hoping that he wasn’t the only idiot in the class. “Oh um it’s good! I’m almost done.” He said, mentally cursing himself for saying that he was anywhere near finished.

“Oh cool. Do-do you want to switch them off tomorrow?” Now you had no idea what this phone call was even about. In the back of your mind, you assumed that he just had a question about the essay, but now you had nothing to grab onto.

“Yeah sure, that works for me.” He said, looking to his empty paper.  He was so totally screwed now. He couldn’t admit that he was an idiot to you, not when you already had everything so clearly understood. You spoke so confidently, it made him feel small and pointless.

“Okay…I’ll see you in class then.” You said. Steve bid an awkward goodbye and you both hung up unsure what the hell had just happened.

Samantha was on her feet, jumping on your mattress “Did Steve Harrington just call you?!?” she cried, following it was it a giddy scream. You hushed her, rolling your eyes.

“It’s nothing to freak out about, you weirdo!” you countered, turning to face her fully with a sullen expression. Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, adrenalin pumping through your veins.

Samantha landed on her knees, looking up at you incredulously “What? He’s cool! That’s cool! Boys never call you!”

“Way to rub that one in.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Talking to people wasn’t your strong suit, and while for the most part you were okay with not having many friends, you lack of experience with relationships made you very insecure. “You crushed one of your spikes on my ceiling.”

Samantha reached up and touched each individual black spike with the tips of her finger, finding the dented one at the top of her head. “It’s true! God, I’ve got more guys calling me and I’m a lesbian.” She lowered her voice at the mention of her sexuality. You both knew that your grandparents wouldn’t be kind to her if they knew, their homophobia a mark of their small mindedness.

“Yeah, well, the guys at this school are all idiots.” You looked back to your paper, pulling your red pen out from behind your ear and crossing out a word on your essay.

“You didn’t think Jonathan Byers was an idiot.” Samantha replied. You cheeks flashed cherry red. It wasn’t fair of her to even mention him. He was a dickhead and Samantha knew it.

“Yeah, well now I know that he’s just as big of an idiot as everyone else is.” You muttered, pulling your desk chair over and taking a seat once again.  You didn’t have the time for stupid boys, anyways. You had work to do.

[stones-x-bones]

Pushing Daisies || Raina and Bex

TIMING: About a week ago  PARTIES: @rainaim and @inbextween SUMMARY: Two soft witches meet in a cemetery. It...goes well? CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions, Parental death mentions

Raina looked up at the sky, a dark curtain of hair falling over her shoulders as she craned back to see the tops of the trees begin to sway in the light breeze that had picked up. Yellowed leaves, pushed from rebirth of green, scattered at each grave that she looked upon. Some had flowers, some didn’t. It was like Knoxville, only there seemed to be more plots here. Which, if Raina had put any thought into it, she’d find it odd. Instead, she found herself confronted by the sheer amount of dead and wilting flowers. It’d been awhile since she’d done a sweep through a cemetery, and though White Crest’s was new, it still deserved the same care. Like back in Tennessee, she began to use her magic to pull water from the humidity in the air and trickle it down onto the small bunches of flowers that rested their petals against granite. She’d gotten two or three rows down, skipping over those that had already died, when she saw somebody. The witch ceased the use of her magic and pushed her hair out of her face. “It’s nice out, ain’t it?” She asked as she approached, awkwardly clasping her hands together in back of her. Raina finally took in her whole appearance-- a little worn down, but brightened up by the amount of flowers she held. “Ah, I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean t’interrupt or nothin.” 

Since her first cemetery run with Eddie, Bex had found herself wanting to return more and more often. Every time she went there were new graves to clean and more flowers to replace. It felt like there were so many forgotten souls in every one and she didn’t have enough flowers or time to possible tend to them all. It made her sad. It broke her heart. She couldn’t enough for the living and now she couldn’t do enough for the dead, either. She’d stopped halfway through her second bouquet to sit, wearied by her lack of sleep and the pain in the side. Her palm pressed against the still stiff bandages, keeping her shirt from rubbing against stitches that already hurt. She held the flowers tightly and looked at the grave in front of her. William Fairfax. She had no idea who he was, how could she possibly? He’d died over a hundred years ago. There probably wasn’t a soul in town who knew he was. That was probably why his grave was covered in moss and there hadn’t been a flower on it since Bex had last made her way through. She plucked out an orange pansy and set it in front, kneeling down, then, the begin to scrape off the moss when a voice caught her off guard. Startled, she turned to look back. “Oh, um--” she looked up at the trees, the wind swaying through them. Clouds drifting lazy in the blue above. “It is, yeah.” Her gaze returned to the young woman curiously. “I-- is this-- did you know him? Are you here visiting someone? I-- I’m sorry if you did. There haven’t been flowers here in a while and I like to put some on all the graves that don’t have them. My friend-- boyfriend-- told me not enough people appreciate the dead and I just don’t want anyone to be that forgotten.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean t’scare you.” Raina offered a small smile. The girl looked worse for wear. The witch wasn’t the type of person to pry or ask a stranger what had happened so she quickly averted her attention to the flowers that the brunette held to her chest. “Nah, I’m not visitin’ nobody.” She thought about her father and how her aunt had arranged for him to be transported back to California. It made her sad that even if she did decide to ever return to Tennessee, she wouldn’t have anything to go back to. Not her parents, not her aunt. Not even her house. Raina smiled at the girl before kneeling down next to a grave that had a few dead flowers and moss grown against the nameplate. She cleared it away and stepped to the side so that the girl could place a flower there. She dusted her hands off on her paint dripped jeans and hummed. “I’m actually new here… this is just somethin’ I’d do back home.” Though Raina couldn’t tell what she should and shouldn’t fear in White Crest, something told her that she was safe here. “You’re right though…” It had taken her mother leaving for Raina to truly understand what loss did to people, and when her father had… Raina took a deep breath. She wouldn’t think of that here. “It’s nice, you doin’ this for people you don’t even know.” She smiled sadly down at the graves that were laid out at their feet. “Mind if I help you?” Raina knew she shouldn’t use her magic here out in the open, or in the company of somebody else she didn’t know-- she’d risked too much already.

“Oh, no! You-- you’re fine! I just wasn’t paying attention. It’s fine,” Bex insisted. The other girl was being really kind, not questioning why Bex was standing over someone’s grave she didn’t know with a bundle of flowers. She’d already had a few people yell at her, but not today. It was cloudy and it looked like it was going to rain-- that always chased people away. She dropped her gaze back to the other girl and gave her best attempt at a smile back. “I-- oh. That’s--” she turned to look back at the grave and watch as the girl cleaned it off. “I didn’t know other people did this kidna stuff. The cemeteries here aren’t exactly--” safe. But that was mostly just at night. Nodding, she came over to the new grave and plucked out a few flowers, placing them gently in front of the name plate. “I just want them to know they’re cared for,” she said, brushing her fingertips gently across the name carved into the stone tablet. Gabriella Rocha. “I’d love some help, actually.” And some company would be nice, but she left those words unsaid. Standing back up, she brushed the grass from her knees, little wet spots staining her tights and gestured for them to move on down the line to the next unkempt grave. “You said you’re new in town? How recently did you get here?”

Raina knew that kindness, especially extended towards the dead, was often unfound. It was important to the witch that such kindness be expressed, and the fact that somebody else was following that line of thought, too, warmed her heart. Raina offered her a soft smile before she stepped to the side, allowing for the girl to place another flower at one of the graves. There were so many, Raina thought. She’d have to buy out the entire floral shop in order to make up for those who’d gone unvisited. “I know I just met you ‘an all, but what you’re doin’ is very kind.” Raina adjusted the hem of her dress as she followed after the girl as she gestured to move onward. “I know I probably implied that already, but--” She looked up to the sky. Heavy clouds hung above them. There’d be a storm later. She could feel the energy buzzing along her skin, the magic vibrating in her veins. “Oh, yeah! I’m very new.” She thought for a moment. “Well, a little over a month now…” She laughed, “so I guess I ain’t as fresh as a newborn calf or nothin’, but new in the respect of not knowin’ much ‘bout this place.” Raina hummed and held out her hand for a flower as she knelt down next to a grave. Yvonne Agron. “I’m from Tennessee, but I won’t bother you with the specifics.” 

“Oh, um-- thank-- that’s nice of you to say,” Bex stuttered through her words again. It wasn’t that she was nervous, simply caught off guard. She hadn’t expected company while on her graveyard walk, and it wasn’t that it wasn’t welcomed, she just wasn’t prepared. Usually when she had company, she had time to prepare, to mentally prep herself for being around another person. This was...surprising. But she was nothing if not adaptable. She smiled. “A month is still pretty new! But um, yeah. This place is--” she looked around the cemetery, watching the other girl set a flower down on another grave, “--different than a lot of other towns. How um-- how are you finding it so far? Is it treating you well? I know it can be a little crazy sometimes, but, like-- it can be good, too.” Who was she trying to convince? What good had White Crest given her lately? She swallowed. “Tennessee? What’s it like there? I...know literally nothing about it except for the state flag and capital and what year it was given stateship.”

“Oh, well…” Raina thought for a moment. She’d been through the ringer, that much was true. Between the mime, the dog-not-dog, and then the portal she’d dropped through with Adam, it was hard to really tell what was good and what was bad. This, the witch decided, was one of the good. “It has its moments. I expect that’s true of any town, y’know?” The older woman offered a smile to her company before she got to her feet. “Overall, I think it’s hard to judge a place based on only livin’ here for bout a month or so… I’m tryin’ to give it a fair chance b’fore I try to act like it’s all terrible.” She wanted to find the good. She had to find the good. Raina, overall, wanted nothing more than to find others like her. When the stranger mentioned that she knew the textbook details of Tennessee, Raina couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Well, you’d be prepared for any kinda test, wouldn’t you?” She hummed. “Gotta say, the food scene is different. People are a lot kinder in places like Knoxville, but that might just be false hospitality. Though, I will admit, I ain’t ever seen lobsters the size of the ones here.” She cleared away some overgrown moss from another grave before turning her attention back to the girl. “How long’ve you been hangin’ around?” She asked with another soft smile. 

“Oh, no, yeah--” Bex said, nodding, “I don’t think this place is all terrible. I think there’s actually a lot of good. But sometimes a lot of bad things happen to those good people, those good things, and it feels like there’s only bad. But-- but that’s not true.” She stopped herself from rambling some more and helped the girl clear off the rest of the next grave, brushing her hand on her thighs to wipe them clean. “It’s nice, though,” she stated, “that you’re willing to give it a chance.” She needed to give it a chance, too, didn’t she? She looked back over at Raina. “Oh, uh-- sorry. I know a lot of random facts, I like reading encyclopedias and fact books, or websites that have daily facts and stuff. I like history the most, but, really, anything I can learn is good. I just like learning.” She set down the last of the flowers in her hand at the current grave. “Yeah, the food here is mostly coastal, lots of fish. It’s kinda hard for me to find stuff to eat here, being a vegetarian and all, but there’s a few good choices! I can tell you the best places around, if you want.” She glanced around the cemetery before making her way over to a nearby bench, ushering the girl to follow her. “Umm, technically I grew up here.” She pointed across the way, towards the ocean, to the island that sat just a short ferry ride away from the main town. “Over on Harmony Island.” 

“Honestly, I understand that.” Raina looked down at the grave before her for a beat of a second too long and she felt her heart sink. She finally managed to look away. “Bad things happenin’ to good people… It ain’t cosmic, like some people wanna believe, but…” She stayed silent for a moment before getting to her feet, “I think it’s important to recognize what’s ‘cause of you and what’s outta your control. Makes siftin’ through the bad and the good a lot easier.” At least, in her experience it had been. She knew that the circumstances with her parents were out of her control, and so she tried not to dwell on them as if they were her fault. What good would it do? Of course, it was easier said than done. Raina shook her head at the apology that seemed to spill. “You got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s good to have interests.” It occurred to her that this girl could probably school her on Tennessee trivia, and Raina had lived there. “You must be really smart then?” She didn’t want to equate somebody’s technical capabilities of learning to whether or not they’d be intelligent, but there was something about her that seemed as though Raina was right. “I don’t mind seafood. Didn’t get much of it back in Tennessee. We had bass, catfish, mostly. Not like the stuff here that I’ve seen at the markets.” Raina followed her to the bench and wiped her hands against her dress as she sat down, uncaring about the dirt that covered her palms. Her dark navy dress wouldn’t stain easily. She looked over at her company when she spoke, then followed her finger to the ocean. “Harmony Island?” She quirked a brow. “Ain’t been there yet, I don’t think.” She’d remember taking a ferry somewhere. She let out a laugh as soon as she realized she hadn’t yet offered her name. “I’m Raina by the way,” She looked over at the girl with a smile. “It’s nice t’meet you.” 

Bex didn’t entirely know if what the other girl said was true, but she wasn’t going to argue. People all believed different things, and that was okay to her. Maybe it just gave her comfort to know there was some sort of divine essence or presence looking over everything, maybe even punishing those who did bad, rewarding those who did good. Or maybe it just made her feel worse. She hadn’t really decided yet. She still wasn’t even sure how her magic fit in with her faith, but she was trying. “Yeah, that’s true. It’s...easier to process things if you look at it that way, I guess.” She rubbed her arm nervously. “Smart? Oh, um, I mean-- I’m really good at memorizing stuff and remembering things like dates and names and stuff like that. But, like-- there’s so many different types of intelligence, you know? Not just book smarts, like mine.”

She looked over at her companion and smiled, softly. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My name’s Bexley. And uh, you probably wouldn’t unless you live there. There’s not much out there except insanely expensive housing and a cemetery.” Bex leaned back on the bench and looked up at the greying sky again. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I hope this place isn’t too um-- cruel to you.”

“There are different levels, absolutely.” Raina had never considered herself that smart, but she knew her stuff. She knew how to study, and that’s most of what had helped her throughout school. That, and her determination. “Everyone’s a ‘lil different.” She offered Bex a smile before stretching her legs out before her. The toes of her shoes were dirty, but she made no move to reach down to dust them off. Instead, she flattened out her feet against the ground and looked out towards the plethora of gravestones that surrounded them. It was quiet for the most part. She wondered how many visitors this place got. “No use in judgin’ people based on what they’re capable of, or incapable of.” She wrung her hands together in her lap, gathering some of the fabric of her dress to keep it from sweeping the ground. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Bex.” She smiled at her company, all the way until it reached her eyes. “Cruel?” The longer she looked at the young girl, the easier it was to tell that she’d been through hardships. Whatever those looked like, Raina was unsure. She didn’t feel sorry for her, but rather, she felt sympathetic. “I hope that you’re not lost to it, either.” She hummed under her breath as she looked towards the tree line. “Sometimes cruelty is just preparin’ us for what’s to come. Sucks, it sure does, but hopefully…” She paused, “it can lead to good things, beautiful things.” She hoped that everything she’d gone through with her father, her mother, even her aunt-- that it all leading her to White Crest served some kind of relief. “That bein’ said, as a newcomer, I’m havin’ the hopes for m’self, and everyone I run into.” 

It was a relief to hear the other girl-- Raina-- say some of the things she was. Bex relaxed a little, next to the stranger not quite stranger on the bench next to her. She wasn’t going to hurt her. Bex never knew these days, who would and who wouldn’t. What would and what wouldn’t. She was tired of it. She scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, trying to wipe away the weariness and the anxiety. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Raina,” she finally gave a true smile, and though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, it wrinkled the fringes of them and scrunched her nose. Her gaze dropped as she looked at her feet, her flats covered in dirt. Her mother would scold her if she came home dirty like this, but she knew she could clean up in the ferry port bathroom. Slowly, she stood, turning her head back to look at her companion. “Hopefully,” she answered, clasping her hands together. “Thanks for talking with me and um--” she motioned back to the graves they’d cleaned. It’d only been a few, but it was still something she had to feel good about. The line of flowers that sat in the yard were bright and vibrant and she hoped the spirits she couldn’t see were at least a little happy someone cared about them. “Helping me with those. Maybe I”ll see you again sometime.” She’d wanted to offer to meet up with her again, but her life was dicey, she didn’t know if she could. “I hope things treat you well, too.” But if even her hope was fading, what good were the words? Bex drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll um-- this was nice. I’ll...I’ll see you around.” The clouds were getting darker, which meant rain. She needed to be home before that. She gave Raina a small wave before she turned to head off, wishing she could’ve just stayed on that bench. There was something about the girl she’d met, something familiar. Maybe it was just the hope they shared, that this town didn’t have to be cruel, that maybe it was preparing them for something better. Maybe it was something more. Maybe she’d never find out. Her eyes looked back at her retreating figure. Maybe she would. She wanted to.

[writersmacchiato]

seeing stars | charlie dalton

Summary: Charlie is in the unique position of falling in love with his fiancée while knowing nothing about her, only that they’re arranged to be married and she already has a boyfriend.

Request: Hi! Could I request a Charlie Dalton x Reader where they're set up for a marriage? And at the beginning they're not really happy about it cause either Charlie has a girlfriend or reader has a boyfriend but they end up liking each other. I'd love for it to have a LOT of fluff. Thanks in advance :) love u + Hi! I was wondering if you could write a really fluffy Charlie Dalton x reader please?? Thank you.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, unnecessary detail about Charlie’s parents that isn’t canon, 2k words!!

You've got me seeing stars, brighter than ever Shining just like diamonds do

The rain splattered against the window, a roaring pour that offered no mercy to those unfortunate to be caught unawares by it. Charlie stared dismally at the passing cars and running people through the mirror, his expression was cold. 

"Just a few more measurements, Mr. Dalton, then we'll be done."

Charlie hummed his acknowledgement, but he wasn't thinking about the suit he was wearing. The heavy material that weighed down his shoulders, tight around the chest, feeling more like a noose than something fit for a wedding. 

"All done then." The tailor stepped away, folding his measuring tape away before making a few more notes in his notebook. "The alterations will be done by the 15th. Plenty of time before the happy day."

Happy day.

Charlie had to physically stop himself from scoffing. "Thank you." 

His father clears his throat, looking up from his newspaper. He manages a tight-lipped smile at his son."Your mother will be pleased."

"Will she?" Charlie said, enjoying the way his father tenses. 

The answer was no. Nothing pleased his mother; not the wealth of his father, the pride of a mother - she took her enjoyment by controlling those around her and bending them to her whim. She was pretty, beautiful back in her prime, but her relevance in high society was fading. A fact she hated more than anything. 

. . .

There are rows and rows of fabric, cards with the names of the color written neatly in cursive. 

"Purple or yellow?" Charlie flashed the two color cards at you, looking at the fabrics in disdain. Why were there so many?

"You can't just say a color! There are shades of purple and shades of yellow." You wrinkle your nose at him, looking between the two he held. "That canary yellow clashes with the plum. A darker yellow, like gold, would look better."

Charlie had to refrain from rolling his eyes. "I don't see how it matters. Or why they're making us plan so many things."

"They planned the marriage and can't even plan this?" 

You catch his eye, both of you straight-faced, before you're looking away with a smile.

Charlie smiles to himself, flicking through the cue cards. It's only as he watches you walk away that he realizes it's the first time he's smiled genuinely around you. 

. . .

You frown at the rich taste of buttercream; a velvety swirl of vanilla that is topped by a fondant white rose. The cake is vanilla bean, a soft and spongy delight that is overwhelmed by frosting. 

Malinda Dalton, Charlie's mother, sighed in satisfaction. "This is the one."

Charlie sits with his arms crossed, looking at you with an unreadable expression. 

"Are you sure? It's the first cake. We've prepared five cakes in total for tasting." 

Malinda twists her mouth to the side, something she does when someone goes against her. 

"It would be rude not to." You speak up with a smile, hiding your smirk at Malinda's side-eye in your direction. "In fact, we'd be delighted. Isn't that right, Charlie?"

"Absolutely." Charlie said. 

The other cakes fall within the same line of the first one; delicious, but entirely too decadent. Malinda goes out of her way to make her distaste known, set on the first cake. You share a look with Charlie.

"I like the red velvet cake the best." You said.

"Really? Me too." Charlie fakes his surprise, noticing how you hold back a laugh. 

An ugly look passes over Malinda's face before she covers it with her picture-perfect smile. "Well if it's what the couple wants..."

. . .

"Listen, Benny, when I say she's a momzilla--"

Charlie only hears the tail-end of your phone conversation, walking in with two glasses of champagne. 

You're wearing a beautiful blue dress, an overlay of gold embellishments. Gold earrings catching the light as you turn away from the phone. There is no mistaking the sadness in your eyes, how much they glitter with melancholy. 

"Talking to Ben?"

"Yeah."

Benjamin Jay West, your boyfriend of two years, or ex-boyfriend. Charlie wasn't sure what relation you still had with him. 

"I'm sorry." Charlie said. "I know you'd rather be doing all of this with him."

Sometimes, Charlie forgets that you have a life outside of this. That you take classes at the state university, that you hang out with friends, that you have a boyfriend you love. This being the bullshit that is high society. 

You don't say anything, but you offer a tepid smile. "I'm sorry, too. I know you don't want this either."

Charlie offers you the glass, watching the bubbles travel through the liquid. It's odd that this is the most you've talked without being forced to. You hold out the glass to his, clinking it gently. 

"Cheers. To being in an arranged marriage like it's the eighteen hundreds."

Charlie smiles, genuinely smiles. "Cheers."

He can't help the small voice that says 'maybe this will be okay'.

. . .

Charlie doesn't hear from you in a week. Which isn't entirely unusual, but there was often something that had to be planned for the wedding that required some form of communication. It was two months away now. Invitations were sent out, RSVPs being received. 

It was odd being outside of your studio apartment. Located downtown, it was close to the university. A graduation present from your parents. Charlie knew the address; had picked you up several times, had seen Ben peeking through the curtains. 

Now, there was no sign of life. 

The flowers on the stoop were wilted, a surprising neglect given your love of them. No lights are on that can be seen from the front entrance. It's quiet and suddenly he can't remember if anyone has heard from you.

The doorbell echoes throughout the building, before he hears the small patter of footsteps. Charlie can't help the way he visibly relaxes upon seeing you, even if your hair is messy and there are visible bags under your eyes. 

"Charlie?" Your voice is tired, a little hoarse from disuse. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried." He said. It surprises him how true that is. 

"Do you want to come in?" You trail away, leading to the kitchen where you put on a kettle and grab two mugs. 

You're quiet, the glittery look in your eyes that he's accustomed to seeing is gone, the air around you is filled with a sadness.

"Ben broke up with me." You said through a croak. "It's stupid. So stupid. I knew it would happen eventually, but I didn't expect it now--"

The kettle starts to whistle and you turn away from him, taking a long time to prepare the cups of tea. Charlie doesn't comment on it. 

"I'm sorry." Charlie isn't sure how many times he's said that now, but it feels insignificant. Not worth enough. 

"I wish I was brave enough to leave him when I found out, but I was too selfish." There are steady tears trailing from your eyes, finally putting a dull sparkle in them that is nothing compared to your usual brightness. 

"I'm sorry." He says it again, like maybe if it means enough something will change. 

. . .

You throw yourself into finishing the final details of the wedding.

Charlie didn't expect it. If anything he anticipated more resistance. It scares him, how eerily perfect your mask is. 

He knows that is what you did; form a mask that hid your heartbreak over losing Ben. You never indulged much information about him. Only small tidbits that slipped out, everything Charlie knew about him was gathered from how you behaved after talking to him. The smile that was radiant, eyes shining with stars. 

His father looks at the venue, carefully watching his wife from the corner of his eye as she walked around with a clipboard in hand. Pen in hand, making notes. 

"You know, all things considered...you're lucky."

Charlie tosses a nasty look at his father, daring him to keep speaking with the sarcasm dripping. "Really?!"

"Your bride-to-be has a good head on her shoulders, she's funny, smart. She isn't like other young ladies her age."

Charlie follows his father's gaze, finding his mother meticulously smoothing out a tablecloth. Despite the burst of anger that rises at his father's words, he sees the reason behind it. They could have set him up with a stranger, someone like his mother who cared about money and status. At least he somewhat knew you before the arrangement was made. You were smart, incredibly witty. He was surprised how often you made him laugh. There is that voice again, louder;

'maybe it won't be so bad'.

. . .

The suit, with its alterations, looked perfect on him. The navy crisped and starched, looking pristine against the bundle of flowers pinned to his breast pocket. His hair was combed, full of gel that crunched his hair in a way he hated. 

There was no denying that he looked every part of the handsome groom, though on the inside he was anything but. 

His feelings had wavered for you over the months, but he was certain that he didn't feel anything close to love. Perhaps he liked how you smiled at him, how your eyes crinkled at the edges. The way you stood up to his mother and father. How intelligent you were, devoted to your studies but never letting them rule your life. 

In different circumstances, Charlie might have fallen in love with you.

Instead he hears the organ begin playing, watching as you walk down the aisle in a white dress that looks extremely extravagant and nothing like you would pick out. 

Your hands are cold in his, your expression empty. The necklace around your neck, a gift from your mother, shines brightly under the light - a stark contrast to the lack of light in your eyes. 

"I do."

Never had two words been more damning, Charlie thinks as he kisses you for the first time. It's brief, awkward, and cold. Pulling away, his hand holds you as he leads the way out of the room. 

The guests in attendance clap politely, showing no real enthusiasm, as if they too know that this wedding is unwanted. 

. . .

Silence.  

The apartment was full of deafening quiet, something Charlie eventually adjusted to. Instead he took note of mundane sounds: the scratch of your pen on paper while you studied and did homework, the soft patter of your socks on the floor, clinking of cups in the morning as you made enough tea for two.

It wasn't an unbearable existence. Charlie quickly beginning to notice your quirks and habits. 

The silence is broken one early morning when he wakes up and sees that you're not in your room or kitchen. Worry picks at him before he sees the open balcony door. You're huddled under a wool blanket, cup of tea in hand, looking at the sun setting. 

"Hey." You scoot over on the small bench, leaving room for him. 

For once the silence doesn't feel cold or tense.

"I love sunrises."

"It's too damn early."

Maybe, Charlie thinks as he looks at your laughing face and starry eyes, maybe it will be okay. 

. . . 

The air is cold, fresh, as the morning dew collects on grass blades and leaves. There is a thin film of fog slowly dispersing as the sun creeps over the thicket of pine trees. 

Charlie opens the door to the back porch, a blanket folded over his arm, with two mugs of tea in hand. The mugs touch the table with a gentle clank. You lean into his side, tucking the blanket under your chin. His hand runs over your arm, nose nestling against your head. 

No words are exchanged as you watch the sunrise, finishing the tea in slow sips before it grows tepid. Pink blends into blue, a soft purple giving way to a peach that slowly slips away until it's only an ebb of yellow and blue. 

"Can't believe in two days it'll be one year." You whisper, playing with the simple gold band on his finger. 

Charlie presses a kiss to your cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too." 

Charlie feels his heart soar when you can't contain your smile, beaming up at him. Your eyes glittering with stars as you look at him. 

[hanadoesstuffbadly]

‘Online’ ch I - RS&t7D University AU

Hello, I was looking for Red Shoes fanfiction when I discovered that there are little to no Modern AUs being written. So i figured, screw it, I’ll do it myself because I love modern AUs.

This is the first chapter and it is very long, so if you don’t feel like reading it, fair enough. I’m planning to write the whole thing anyway because I also love writing and it’s good practise.

Small warning if you do want to read this: Merlin is British. I am British. British people are very sarcastic and very moody all of the time. This entire first chapter is from Merlin’s perspective so there are a lot of British phrases and idioms used. If you are fortunate enough to not be an eternally grumpy Brit, don’t worry, the next chapter will be a very bad written impersonation of an American!!

Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please don’t judge me too harshly, I am but a young peasant girl.

Sooooooooo.... Summary.

Merlin is a twenty year old student at Southend University. To combat his detrimental narcissism, his counsellor suggests online gaming. Merlin tries to cheat by using an ancient game called Fairytale Island, which designs your avatar to match a photograph. This plan falls apart when his laptop explodes, turning his avatar tiny and green. He ploughs on regardless, sure that he will encounter nobody. Little does he know, that a newly moved student from the States is coming online the very same night. :)

(It’s kinda switched so Merlin is the last of the F7 to get his attitude set right.)

With that done... I hope you don’t hate it!

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Merlin couldn’t stand mornings, especially Friday mornings. Because for the duration of his first year of Uni, Friday’s lessons had always begun at the reasonable hour of 2 o’clock in the afternoon. This left Merlin a good half hour to be awake, out of the door and on his bike, zipping past the crowded Southend beaches. In short, Merlin hated Friday mornings because he had not seen one in fifteen months. Needless to say, it was not a welcome reunion.

Approximately twelve minutes prior to commencing with today’s zipping -at the unlawful hour of nine in the morning- Merlin had been idly stirring shredded wheat into a depressing gruel (much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, red-haired cook,) basking in his own tardiness. 

Had he asked for counselling? No. 

Did he need counselling? None of their business.

Did he want to be dragged out of bed at half-eight by six overbearing housemates who apparently believed it was "necessary" or "overdue"; to be packed off to the Resource Centre so that they could “Evaluate any and all emotional or psychological issues which may have arisen for you, as a student whom we have identified as being at risk, before the beginning of this new academic term”? No, he did not!

Contrary to a promising forecast, the sky was a sapphire pool overhead. Thus, the fantasy of motorbiking down empty seafront roads, the brassy drumming of thunder and the gurgle of saltwater smothering his roaring engine (Hans called him a madcap but personally, Merlin preferred the term Raptor-trainer) was squashed. And given that a motorbike charging down the road in the wee hours of the morning was frowned upon, Merlin was forced to content himself with walking at a purposefully counter-productive pace to the bus stop down the hill. Stubbornly, he insisted on himself that he wore a cobalt-blue, long-sleeved shirt with grey trousers; dressing not for the weather he had, but the weather he wanted. This was a stupid idea and the sleeves were rolled up before he reached sea-level. He had to restrain himself from missing a bus entirely. It wasn’t crowded, because of course it wasn’t. Everyone else in Southend had better things to be doing. 

Like sleeping. 

The bus didn’t even go all the way to the college, stopping at least a dozen yards from the entrance like a noncommittal shrug. It took everything in Merlin to not  keep his butt planted securely in his seat; let the busyness of British public transport whisk him away to the Leigh on Sea station; catch a train to Fenchurch street; disappear into Central London; never be seen or heard from again, especially by Dr- as a student whom we have identified as being at risk- LeFey; then inevitably die from water pollution at a ripe old age of thirty-five. It took everything in him, but he walked down to the building, through glass-doors ornamented by a million sweaty fingerprints, and into a waiting room that smelt of Sellotape.

Unsurprisingly, the stately woman at the desk gave him barely a passing glance, handing him a form to fill in with the enthusiasm of an automatic door sliding open. Also unsurprisingly, the assistant behind her paused in rearranging a filing cabinet to brush a couple of sandy hairs behind her ear and chew the end of a pen like it was made of liquorice. She even wandered aimlessly away from her task altogether, sidling up to the front desk most inconspicuously.

Merlin's mood brightened. While he leant down to scribble his name and address on the paper, he winked discreetly in her direction.  In spite of definitely not looking at him, her cheeks turned beetroot crimson and what might have been a giggle or the beginnings of a small heart attack escaped her lips. 

Against all of the shoddiness of his day so far, Merlin grinned inwardly, sizing her up with half of his attention. Tall, slender, twenty-one, twenty-two most likely. Stray blonde curls framed a thickly tanned face, the rest piled atop her head in a bun. In all, not a bad picture, although her wardrobe did leave something to be desired: Bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt reading "Darth Vader was framed", betraying that 

A. She still thought that bell-bottomed anything was a good look, and 

B. That she had never paid more than six quid for a shirt. 

However, her figure and the hang of her hair more than made up for those discrepancies. Perhaps he could get something out of this counselling after all. With this in mind, he cleared his throat loudly,

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he waved the form vaguely in front of his face, "but I have a small problem."

Perhaps knowing exactly what he was doing and being used to it by this point, the woman, Ms Marion- who had decided that underneath a lace cardigan was the place for a name tag- ignored him completely, leaving miss bell-bottoms to round the edge of the counter and come to stand by his side over the offending form.

"What's the matter?" She asked, sincerely.

"Y'see," Merlin began, fixing her with a smile that even Jack admitted made anyone weak at the knees, "right here it's asking me for something that I just don't really get." He pointed accordingly, and bell-bottoms leant in closer. To get a really good look at the text, of course.

"We need your mobile number."

"Oh, I see, now here's the thing." Wearing a look of utter helplessness, he faced bell-bottoms completely. She appeared confused, her face becoming redder by the second. "I don't have one of those."

"What?"

"A mobile number." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't mind terribly giving me yours, would you?"

If he squinted, Merlin was fairly certain he would see her bell-bottomed soul leaving her body and fluttering out of the window. He took her lack of reaction as an invitation,

"Lin Pendragon." He extended one hand, still cloaked in a fingerless glove the colour of wet bark. Despite his housemates deciding otherwise, Merlin was in fact not his actual name, and he would sooner be caught dead than introducing himself with it to an attractive young woman such as this. "Part time Ancient Historian, full time Romantic."

Bell-bottoms took the hand and shook it with unexpected firmness,

"Gowlle Delocks. Part time assistant, full time, um..." She seemed a little lost, floundering like a GCSE English paper "Full time-"

"Doctor Morgan LeFey. Part time tolerator of tardiness. This is not one of those times Mister Pendragon."

Spinning on his heel and effectively knocking the form onto the floor, Merlin faced the speaker, who stood in the doorway of a side-office like a disgruntled flamingo.

One thing came to mind when Merlin looked at the counsellor and that was the smell created when someone burns popcorn in a microwave. Forehead too small; nose too large, a hairy wart taking up most of it; everything that should end in a curve ending in an acute, needle-like point. She looked like a bad imitation of a Picasso painting come to life. Yellow hair that might have been blonde hung from her scalp, which he could almost see for how thin the stuff was; and her olive skin was definitely closer to a pale, sickly green from where Merlin was standing. The murky, sky-blue gown that would have looked excessive in the nineteenth century certainly didn't help. Summed up, she looked like a creature one would throw something at if it approached them on a dark night. Merlin felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

So, he had been forced into counselling by a literal witch. Today was just going swimmingly wasn't it.

Dr Lefey's "office" was exactly what Merlin expected. Save of course for a cauldron,  broomstick and small children in display cases. Indigo curtains rather than blinds hung at each side of a wide picture window that looked out on a garden peppered by horrendous little gnomes. Their China faces were stained green by years of mildew build-up. Her wooden floor she had covered with gaudy, knitted rugs, and the sides of her desk had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to them. On the off-white walls hung various, tasteless frames of all sorts and colours, each depicting a photograph taken by somebody who was evidently not a professional photographer. One such picture especially caught his eye.

"This you, Miss… Lefty?" The question was stupid, of course it was her, every other human being on the planet had at least managed to look like one. The photo showed the woman sitting in a cluster of children underneath a cobbled-together shack, a paper tiara on her head and a wand made out of several plastic straws. "The fairy princess in the mauve cardigan?"

"First," She answered, pushing the door shut behind her with her pointy hip, "It's Doctor Lefey, but you will call me Morgan in these sessions." Merlin couldn't help but smirk internally when she assumed there would be more than one of these nightmares. "Second, yes, that is me in the photograph, November, four years ago, Uganda, a recycling activity. And third," The slam of a hefty file being dropped unceremoniously on to a desk made Merlin jump. "I was the fairy Queen."

"Well, your majesty," he ducked his head in a mock bow, "you've aged..." At first, he searched for an adverb but then realised, he didn't particularly need one.

Morgan gave Merlin that pinched smile that he'd seen Arthur's girlfriend, Gwen, give customers at The Golden Goose Cafe when they told her she had no idea who she was dealing with. Also called the 'booting-you-into-next-Thursday-would-cost-twenty-pounds-an-hour-but-i-am-legitimately-considering-it' face. Merlin ignored her easily. He'd had years of practise doing so.

He plopped himself down onto a teal green sofa with a ketchup stain running up one arm. It wasn't a comfortable seat, but the garish pixie cushion did help somewhat. Morgan paid him no attention, leafing through the thick file which she had retrieved moments before. She paid him no attention for a little too long.

As aforementioned, Merlin was fine with ignoring people. Even enjoyed it sometimes. Unattractive waitresses, bin-collectors, overweight people at the gym, pedestrians. Being ignored, however, was a far less comfortable experience. Probably because it was such a rare one. He coughed into the pasty silence.

"Those your medical records?" The room was quiet enough to facilitate a pin drop sounding like a bowling ball being dropped. A long, controlled intake of breath was easily made out. “Cosmetic surgery?” 

"No." She said shortly, continuing with her browsing, "but they are yours." Merlin quickly stopped ignoring her. "And your birth records and your parents birth records and every other detail of your stimulating life story, Merlin." He short-circuited momentarily.

"That's not my-"

"No, it isn't your given name, but it's what your roommates call you and according to them, the one you prefer going by." Alright, those googly snitches were going to pay later. He recovered from his surprise gracefully as always, but that left him no less indignant.

"I- I wasn't aware that you'd have access to that information."

"Several reliable sources have identified you as being at risk, Merlin, everything in this folder is strictly need-to-know." A smile that could have been genuine spread across her features, and it may have been nice if it weren't so nauseating to look at. He crossed his arms and sunk lower into the sofa, muttering to himself,

"You hardly 'need-to-know' about the name though."

"Obviously, anything said in this session doesn't leave this room and the values and standards of Southend University are to be observed at all times." With quick strides on legs like skipping ropes, Morgan left her desk and placed herself gracelessly on a trademark shrink chair. 

The ‘So, Merlin.’ Was audible on her spindly lips before they left them.

"So, Merlin. First, I'd like you to relax," Difficult, I'm sitting across from a gorgon, I'm a man moments from death, "and tell me about your background, where you're from, your family." He gave her a blank look.

"You just told me that you have a massive file telling you that stuff."

"Yes, but I'd like to know that you also know that stuff. Reviewing your case will prove very difficult if we aren't on the same page. Now, if you please." With an exasperated puff of air into his cheeks, Merlin leant forward so that his elbows braced against his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Fine. I was born in Seoul, South Korea; my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was brought to England to live with an aunt in Ipswich."

"And you were comfortable with this change?" The interruption caused Merlin to blank for a second.

"Wha- I was three. I was comfortable sitting in a tumble dryer with knickers on my head!" This retort was not appreciated, judging by the tapping of Morgan's pencil against a green clipboard that had seemingly materialised out of thin air.

"These are regulation questions, try not to overthink your answers." With this she returned to drawing writing utensils from the ether apparently, a silent signal for him to continue. Already, Merlin's mind was going through fantasies of sprinting down the hill, across the high street and off the end of Southend pier.

"Alright then, the aunt was arrested when I was six-"

"Why was she arrested?"

"Are shrinks meant to interrupt their patients?"

"I'm not a shrink, I'm a University counsellor, why was your aunt arrested?" Nothing about this experience was relaxing. Getting a Frostino with Miss Delocks, the part-time-assistant would have been relaxing.

"Possession of illegal firearms. Just a taser. Five years in prison under the law of the United Kingdom. Happy?"

"Yes, this is very helpful. So, your guardian was arrested and…"

"I went into care, obviously. Seven foster homes over six years. Adopted after my eleventh birthday by Igraine Pendragon and her husband. I moved into their home in York, Summered in Cumbria; went to school with their son. Igraine died when I was fifteen, Uther when I was seventeen. Arthur and I moved out to one of the cottages we own in Leigh two years ago. It was all perfectly fine and now here I am at Southend University in a counselling session I didn't ask for with a counsellor that I'm certain nobody has ever asked for." Okay, the last bit slipped out half unwarranted, but he might as well be honest.

Long, mole-flecked fingers curled and tightened around the edges of her clipboard, leaving dents in the malleable green cork like it was plasticine.

"Right." Came a snarled response from between smiling teeth. "Now, on to some more current information: Who do you live with during your time at the University?"

"Igraine’s son, Arthur, and the five student tenants who rent out rooms." That felt weird to say. For some reason, whenever Merlin thought about the six other occupants of Stanrocc cottage, it was hard to remember that they weren’t all related in one way or another.

“Right, and are you comfortable with these living arrangements?”

“I’m a University student who gets to live in a fully catered house free of charge, what do you think?” The pinched ‘threaten-to-speak-to-my-manager-again-and-I-will-hit-you-with-a-shoe’ smile returned.

“Okay then.” A rustling of paper signalled that the background questions were mercifully coming to a close, as, Merlin hoped, was this entire experience. Unfortunately, the next words out of the witches’ mouth weren’t, ‘thank you for your time, Mister Pendragon, I hope you and Miss Delocks have a splendid afternoon.’ Instead she intertwined her grotesque fingers and looked him in the eye. The fact that he didn’t turn to stone was a shock.

“Now, Merlin, I’d like to know what features you look for when meeting new people.” Alright, not what he’d wanted or expected to hear.

“Is this a personal interview-”

“Just-” Morgan closed her eyes and pressed her lips together until they completely disappeared into her face. “Answer the question, Merlin.”

“I look for the same things anyone looks for. Do they look approachable? Would I want to be seen with them out and about? Those kinds of things.” He darted his eyes from Morgan’s varicose ankles to her sloping forehead. 

“So, you base the value of other people’s company solely upon their outward appearance and draw any and all judgements from those assets?” There were too many words in that sentence, was all Merlin could think in response. When he did finally puzzle out what the question actually was, he gave the woman a jovial nod. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

“Of course I do, how a person looks tells you a lot about who they are, doesn’t it?” 

Morgan must have been writing something down, but it still felt as though her eyes had not left Merlin for a second. An intake of breath through her wide nostrils filled the room.

“To some extent, maybe.” She shifted on her chair and the look in her eye of a person who had gotten exactly what they wanted was unnerving. “Merlin, do you think you feel this way about other people because these mentalities could have been forced on you in the past?” Her nasal voice had become one of understanding and professionalism, the Northern accent thinning considerably. Merlin didn’t like it at all. “Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look?”

Throughout this entire, stupid session, Merlin had been wanting to avoid answering questions. Now all he wanted to do was say something so devastating yet so on point that it would shut this witch up for the rest of her career. And yet his tongue remained still, rooted to the floor of his mouth.

“I see.” The counsellor stood and shook out her skirts with the smug air of a woman victorious. Merlin wanted to throw something at her. Like a shoe. She went around to the back of her desk and retrieved a post-it-note shaped like a unicorn. “I’m giving until the beginning of the new term to combat this problem that we seem to have here." In one motion she ripped away the post it note and was making her way back towards him, brandishing it like a literal curse rather than simply the figurative one that it clearly was. She handed it to him unforgivingly.

"I'd like you to try a social activity that is purely audio based. Interactions with others that don't allow them to see your appearance." The urge to crumple the note into a ball was strong. “I’ll schedule another session three weeks from now.”

"And what if I'm perfectly happy with the way things are? I don't need to change anything." Merlin shot back, and control of the situation brushed his fingertips before Morgan's condescending smile dragged it out of reach again.

"Tell me, Merlin, how many reports do you think I received from your professors and peers of this self-important, judgemental behaviour?" Merlin was already standing as he milled the question over for a full couple of seconds.

"One or two, I'd imagine." He finally mumbled. The witch drummed her pencil against her crossed arms and shook her head. "Well," Merlin started, "it can't have been-"

"Twenty-four." She didn't look victorious now, just a little sorry. That was so much worse. "Twenty-four different people, who you have known for only a year or so. Still think you don't need to change anything?"

Merlin didn't want to look around at her ridiculous face again. He didn't think he even knew twenty-four people well enough for them to report him. Her voice carried on no matter how much he wanted it not to.

"If I don’t see improvement three weeks from now, regardless of how you feel about it, I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely."

The facts stung like poisonous, green smoke in Merlin's head. He pulled at the ornamented door handle, dismissing himself. Then a question came into his mind and forced itself to be asked.

"What activities would you suggest, then?"

"Start an interactive podcast; volunteer for a University chat-line; Online gaming." Merlin's humourless scoff punctuated her list.

"Yeah, no. I'm not an ‘over the phone’ kind of guy." He stepped out into the hallway and noticed Miss Delocks' head spin in his direction. The last ten minutes had dampened any mood he might have been in for going out, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to cheer himself up. He heard one last reply from the witch before he strode off in the assistant’s direction,

"Keep that attitude up and you won't be a "Part-time Ancient Historian" either."

-

In case the presence of a pale pink fiesta with mermaid stickers running along the doors wasn’t indicative enough, the loud guffaws and scattered shouts told Merlin that his housemates had company. This was before he even reached the top of the hill. Night was creeping across the sky already. Merlin would have liked to stay out longer, but the witches’ words had stuck a little too keenly to him, and a college bar surrounded by five beautiful young ladies was not, it seemed, the best place to process things.

Stanrocc cottage was one of a kind really. It was called a cottage because it managed to be too small to be a villa but also too pretty to be a house. The walls were brick, covered in an artsy kind of cement stuff with shells mixed into it, then painted white. Kingfisher blue window frames peeked out from beneath an overgrowth of marble-like gladioli and ballet-slipper foxgloves. The diminutive front garden was mostly taken up by the wild-cherry tree that had looked hurricanes and landfalls in the face, released a string of angry expletives and stayed precisely where it was with zero intention of ever going away. Around its ankles sprung up Snowdrops every Winter, but right now, in the twilight of August, the space was taken up by a hoard of decaying daffodil corpses.

Through one of the windows, a blonde head was just visible. It stood up haphazardly and came to the door when Merlin knocked. Jack appeared in the doorway, but he’d barely laid eyes on Merlin before he was leaning back inside and shouting into the noisy fray, his accent thick, probably from laughing,

“Ee’s back!” With that he left the door hanging open. Merlin entered, a little disgruntled at the lack of welcome, until he got inside and found out why. Seated on the various beanbags, chairs, and sofas, were their usual six occupants, but with them were four less usual ones. Alright, not that unusual, three of them Merlin knew he recognised.

First was Arthur’s fiancée, Gwen. She was a common recurring visitor. Whenever Arthur wasn’t following her around the café, she was following him around the cottage. The other two present were less clearly defined by engagement rings or Facebook relationship status’. 

Upon sitting back down on his very expensive armchair, Jack had one-hundred-and-fifty centimetres of pink-leggings wearing, ashen skinned vegetarian seating herself comfortably on his lap. That one was Viviane… Or Niniane. Merlin never actually paid attention when Jack gushed about her, but he was almost sure her name was one of those. She was Jack’s “study partner'', both of them being up and coming chemists. Funny, because to Merlin’s knowledge, studying didn’t usually involve reclining on each other’s laps; playing with each other’s hair (or her playing with his, at least) and going out on spa trips together. If they weren’t together, Merlin couldn’t blame Jack. All spread-out, round eyes and large lips, she did look a little like a fish with legs.

Lastly there was Briar. Nobody actually knew what Briar was. Was she Hans’ friend? His girlfriend? A kind of omnivorous goat? It was a mystery. Altogether they knew seven things about her: Like Hans, she was German; she took fencing lessons; her wardrobe consisted entirely of ankle-length, floaty skirts and a special talent of hers was tripping over literal air. She slept with a baseball bat, wore purple contacts in her eyes and, while you wouldn’t imagine so from her physique, she had the appetite of a full grown horse. They didn’t even know what she was doing at the Uni. With her legs folded in front of her, she leant on her maybe-boyfriend-maybe-friend’s signature bean bag chair, one hand holding a row of scrabble pieces. The other was surreptitiously burrowing through Hans’ homemade bag of steak flavoured crisps, which famously tasted like dog food to everyone but those two. The curly-headed bag-holder didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was one other girl with them, seated on a folding chair between Briar’s feet and Arthur’s elbow. Merlin gave her barely a passing glance however, taking in a round figure, cherry-pink shorts, and shoulder-length brown hair before he lost interest. 

Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look.

The counsellor’s stupid voice drove through his thoughts unbidden like an off-rail train. He shook his head and shoved them back down into his subconscious where they belonged, ready to be forgotten. 

The ringing of the words, however, was replaced by his stomach gurgling irritably. A muffin and a salted-caramel hot chocolate were not enough to go on for a whole afternoon. His eyes fell on the Chinese food containers strewn about the coffee table and surrounding floor. A takeaway was a rare occasion in Stanrocc cottage. In the entire county of Essex, there were exactly four fast-food establishments that Hans trusted and respected, and thus, would allow them to purchase from. Two of these were fish-and-chip shops; one- Merlin’s particular favourite- did flame-grilled kebabs; and the last one was the Jade Dragon Restaurant. Very expensive- meaning Jack was probably to thank for it- and very, very good Chinese food. It dawned on Merlin a little late that this uncharacteristic treat might have been meant to make him feel better, judging by the sizeable stack of barbecue kebab boxes that could be seen just inside the kitchen door. Nobody else liked barbecue kebabs.

But he was too tired and too hungry to feel bad for not coming back. He’d been busy.

 The energetic game of scrabble had come to a standstill when his arrival was announced. Now ten pairs of eyes were on him and six of them were concerned. Merlin made for the kitchen, the multitude of expectant faces making his chest knot.

 “Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, half-heartedly when he noticed both Arthur and Hans shifting as if to get up. “I’m going to bed.”

 Noki, the second of the triplets, swept up a container filled with Prawn crackers and extended them in Merlin’s direction. He waved them away dismissively.

 “Really, it’s fine, I’ll grab something from the fridge.” And with that he left the room.

 Much to his dismay, the fridge was a sorry sight, being mostly bare save for half a watermelon and an empty milk carton. It was a Friday, he soon remembered, which meant Hans would be grocery shopping tomorrow. Also, Briar was there.

 Footsteps came thudding along the short passage between the living room and the kitchen. Merlin didn’t have to look up to know that an orange vest with arms was blocking the door.

 “What do you want, Arthur?” Even in the fridge, Merlin could feel the glare in the back of his head. Crossed arms also wouldn’t be a surprise.

 “I want to know where you’ve been, and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us you weren’t coming back?” Merlin finally selected a yogurt cowering at the very back with a best-before date of yesterday. He shut the fridge door with his foot, searching for a clean spoon on the draining board.

 “You know you aren’t actually my dad, right?” He plunged the end of the spoon through the paper covering and started ripping the excess away. “I can go where I want.”

 “No.” Arthur had now moved completely into the room. “But you’re still one of us, mate, and we were all worried. The triplets almost got in the truck to come pull you out of whatever ditch you’d fallen into.” Merlin actually looked him in the face this time. He was scratching his ghost of a goatee the way he always did when he felt in deep water. “You didn’t exactly leave in great spirits this morning.”

 “Lurrk, uum fyrn.” Merlin said through a mouthful of yogurt. The stuff was absolutely repulsive, but it was the best conversation avoidance technique he had without a book to hand. He manoeuvred around Arthur, trying desperately to keep from openly weeping at the foul stuff. The best-before date ought to have been the may-not-kill-you-before date. 

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed behind him. “I can see that. But you’re-“ Merlin dashed up the stairs, discarding the yogurt discreetly in the kitchen bin as he passed it.

Arthur had changed since meeting Gwen. It was like something had been plucked out of him. The thing that had made Merlin feel close to him while everything was happening: The adoption, losing both their parents. It was like Arthur had grown up, changed somehow. And had left Merlin behind.

 And from what he had seen in the other room, Arthur wasn't the only one.

 Merlin emptied the yogurt out of his mouth and gargled mouthwash to get rid of the lingering flavour of overripe strawberries. A knock at his bedroom door interrupted him.

 “What did the counsellor say?” It was Arthur again. Merlin had honestly had enough of today. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He poked his head out, startling his friend who still had his fist raised to knock again.

 “She suggested I take up gaming.”

-*-

Hours later, Merlin turned over his pillow again, trying his absolute hardest to fall asleep. He’d tried relaying a movie in his head, but thinking about the ending just made him sad. He’d tried reading his new book, but Neil Gaiman wasn't particularly relaxing. At last he had just shut his eyes and told himself to sleep, with real authority and gumption. That just made him more awake because his brain hated him.

Eventually he sat up and tugged the string on his lamp. The clock on his desk told him it was 2:26. Merlin’s bones told him that he was actually in a void in which time was a construct of society, and he felt much more inclined to believe the latter. Seeing as somebody, probably Hans, had left a plate of reheated kebabs in front of his door, Merlin hadn’t starved, so he couldn’t explain the hollow discomfort that was plaguing him now.

Actually, he could, he just didn’t want to.

Twenty-four people thought he was a self-important, narcissistic idiot.

Walking around his room to clear his head quickly turned into walking downstairs and into the kitchen to get some shreddies. There were still a few chocolate ones left, them mercifully being the one cereal that Briar didn’t love more than life itself.

As he dejectedly spooned the stuff into his mouth, green smoke came unfiltered through his head again, spelling out: I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely. Merlin groaned and pulled at his bark coloured hair.

Ancient and Medieval History, while not a popular course, was still difficult to get into. Only twelve or so universities in the country even offered it. And even then, Southend alone offered the module on folklore and mythologies. So many essays, so many projects, so much time spent reading about the sordid love-lives of ancient deities. For nothing apparently. All because some people he didn’t know thought he was self-obsessed.

Nothing added up.

And gaming? Really. Podcasts and chat-lines were an instant nope, but gaming. In his entire twenty years, Merlin had played one game and one game alone. And well, that one was…

Next thing he knew, Merlin had left the congealed cereal lonely on the sink and was fighting his way through a wall of cobwebs into the storage room. The lights hadn’t worked in there for years, so Merlin clasped a battery powered torch from Colchester castle like a lifeline.

With his finger and thumb he gingerly shifted bicycles, boxes of DVDs and even a taxidermy rabbit that had gone to holes, until he saw it. The shiny, green corner of a laptop-games-console-hybrid emerged from the darkness. And then was immediately plunged back into it when the torch exploded in Merlin’s hand, the light flickering away with a puff of smoke. Merlin had expected this, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the game and high-tailing it out of the storage room before the shadows could grab his ankles and eat him. Safe in his own bedroom again, Merlin intrepidly opened the game.

Fairytale Island was created by Avalon Games nine years ago. In its entire run, localised in Southern England, it sold about three-hundred consoles. These consoles were box-like laptops, but a more accurate comparison would be an oversized Nintendo DS. The keyboard-space was taken up by the controls, while the screen was above. Graphics-wise, it was surprisingly ahead of its time. What you did was you uploaded a full body photograph of yourself, lined up the limbs and head, and voila, you had your avatar!

This particular console had been bought by an incredible woman named Igraine, for the eleven year old boy whom she had fearlessly rescued. Merlin ran a finger gently over the sticker, feeling the scratchy remnants of its glitter-glue border. On it was a simple little message, rounded off with a clumsy smiley face and the letter I, in wide swirling print.

For the most handsome Prince on Fairytale Island!!!

Obviously his avatar had to change, lest he wanted to continue with the slenderman-esque creature created by his imaginative twelve-year-old self.

Merlin had to stand on his bed to get himself into the frame of his plug-in webcam. Not really knowing what to do with his arms, he did the only rational thing and T-posed. In his pyjamas. In front of a game for preteens. At twenty past two in the morning. 

If one of his housemates came in now he would kill them and dissolve the body in acid.

The screen counted down, readying the camera.

Three… Two… O-ghlowhfsajfhlsdkhlhdsjfh…………….Error………...rebooting, thank you for your patience.

Well. That seemed fair.

Hopping down as quietly as possible, Merlin watched the static clear from the screen like ghost lightning. He should have expected it. Motorcyclists had long said that ‘Love is when you like someone as much as your motorbike.” Merlin was inclined to disagree, because his bike was the one piece of mechanical equipment that didn’t figure it should explode whenever he dared breathe nearby. No bond would ever be able to trump that kind of loyalty.

Reservedly, he fiddled with a Rubix cube until the screen returned to normal. Nothing seemed that wrong with it.

Until his avatar loaded again.

A brief visit to the bathroom mirror was made so that Merlin could examine both his eyes, but when he came back they found the same sight.

Where there should have been a tall, thin, carrot-shaped, Merlinish mage character, there now resided a tiny, stout- if still Merlinish- one. And it was green. Not even a nice green, like fern or emerald or sage. This was a green that reminded a person of snot and nothing else… Except maybe a dehydrated basil plant.

Merlin bashed his head against the edge of his desk. What had that witch done to him? Why was he concerned about this? 

Giving up on answering that question, he looked up to face the diminutive monster that bobbed in place like an excitable pea with legs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he tried to reason. If he didn’t focus, it almost looked like an obese, unwell Gollum. But hey, maybe the other players will like that kind of thing?

Without realising it, Merlin scoffed out loud at himself.

Other players? This game had a range of a thousand kilometres squared and was being handled by a technopollyon (a word that was not a word until Merlin discovered there was no term for a person who inadvertently breaks technology, but there were a multitude of Greek words that he could misuse in its place.)

The chances of another pathetic Englishman within his third of Essex being in possession of and online on Fairytale Island at two-thirty that night, were not worth thinking about. Because they were nonexistant.

With that in mind, Merlin took one last bitter look at his avatar, and continued resolutely on to game.

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Wow! Thanks for reading that!!! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Btw, Gwen, Viviane and Briar are my headcannons for the end credit characters and Morgan LeFey is the fairy princess)

Again, thanks so much. I’m putting the next chapter up at some point, this one from Snow’s perspective.

[yamithediaperdork]

2 tales from the Soul society (bleach)

2 Tales from the soul society

1. The best laid plans

Ichigo hummed to himself as he finished cleaning up the one story house he and Reniji had recently gotten. After getting married the pair had decided to move to the soul society full time, a move that was helped by the fact that Ichigo's bratty ways had recently gotten worse and there was only so many time one could expect to get away with hanging annoying kids by the back of their undies from trees before the law would have to get involved. Still they had a nice place, and Reniji while not at the best possible job, was raking in enough cash for them to live comfortably, all things considered it could of been worse. It also gave the happy pair time to indulge in a shared kink: diaper and age play. Make no mistake, while Ichigo whined and pointed out over and over again just HOW cute Reniji would look in diapers, the red head maintained that Ichigo was the baby of the house. Plus while Ichigo was a good little boy wife (Reniji's pet name for the chore bitch) he didn't wanna shatter his image of alpha male in the house hold by having Ichigo clean his poopie cheeks. It was Friday night and Reniji for a change didn't have to work in the morning and had texted Ichigo as the chore boy finished up what he wanted to do. Ichigo had a impish grin on his face as he texted back, having already decided mentally it was gonna be a daddy and me night, but told Reniji that he just wanted to relax and watch movies, and asked him to get some and some take out on his way home for work. Knowing it wouldn't take his 'daddy' too long to pick some movies and get some food (Fast food really WAS fast food in the soul society, anther point in it's favor) Ichigo made his way to the bathroom closet and dug out his enema kit.

Daddy was a firm believer that while he didn't always enjoy the smell, all big babies like his cutie pie Ichigo should be more then willing to make LOTS of 'presents' for their daddies. Ironically when they had first started all of this, it had been Ichigo who was less then a fan of poopie diapers and enemas. These days however, filling himself up and fighting to hold it in before soiling himself like a big dumb baby was so orgasmic there was 50/50 chance the big baby would cream the front of his diapers while loading the back. The tricky part in all of this was that Reniji thought plastic diapers were wasteful, and so Ichigo would have to somehow get his diapers pinned on and plastic pants tugged over them without letting out the water and sludge from his butt once he took the plug out. of course, only daddy thought that was still a hard struggle, but Ichigo had taken up some 'training' so to speak and while it wasn't always a sure fire thing, he had a high success rate. and had dealt with the clean up involved with his failures. It might of helped if it wasn't for the fact that Ichigo insisted on filling the bag to the brim, and oils and soaps to ensure all sorts of delightful cramps. Still it was a labor of love and he didn't think twice as he mixed his little brew up and shook the bag, before hanging it on the shower rod.

He had of course, already stripped naked, his hairless body a result of shaving and grooming and his modest manhood was twitching and awaiting the fun as he lubed up the suggestively shaped nozzle with one hand while working in a lubed up finger or two in and out of his rosebud to make this go as smooth as possible. Mindful that there WAS a time limit here, he forced the nozzle in hard and fast and almost lost it right there, hunched over the bathroom sink and letting out a soft "Oh daddy!" Somehow he managed to keep his load in and gasping softly he opened the valve on the bag, filling his insides with the hot mixture and whimpering as he rubbed his growing belly. "oh fuck..oh fuck..I'm getting pregnant with a mud baby just fer daddy Reniji." Ichigo coo'ed stupidly at his reflection, his eyes going dim as his hornless took him over. Somehow he manged NOT to give in and jack off, eve if his cock head was dripping a almost steady level of pre which meant he had to keep dabbing at it with a wad of tissue. The bag filled him quick enough and Ichigo giggled, rubbing his belly a few times and savoring the cramps with his eyes closed, before moving onto the next stage of operation: present for daddy.

The terrycloth diapers Reniji got Ichigo were slightly stained, there were some things that all the elbow grease in the world just couldn't get out and Reniji insisted that Ichigo wasn't getting new diapers till the old one's were too worn out to use/too filthy to keep using. 'hehehehe two birds one stone!' the big baby giggled, having gotten them and the large diaper pins ready before stuffing his guts. pre powdered and everything, Ichigo tugged the nozzle out and willed his hole to close as he plopped back onto the diapers, tugging them up and getting the pins in. Ideally he'd like to say this present for daddy to see happen, but his tummy was cramping and gurgling, so Ichigo would have to take what he could get. Moaning softly and his tummy sloshing, Ichigo went for the cherry on the cake so to speak, tugging up a pair of plastic pants he'd claimed to have lost but had been working on in secret. working to stitch onto the back of the clear pants in jet black 'poo poo pants'. 'Daddies gonna squeal when he see's dat!' Ichigo thought proudly. he toyed with getting a diaper shirt on, but between the size of his tummy and the diaper butt, he'd of had to struggle and it would of popped open when he bent over anyways. He could of slid a top on at least but figured fuck it, lots of babies ran around in just their diapers and it wouldn't be like Reniji wasn't gonna be washing him soon anyways. decision made, Ichigo toddled towards the hallway in from of the front door and turned around,bracing himself on a small table for key's and the like and waited, his butt facing the door and listening for the sound of daddies keys.

Reniji was having a good day, and actually was looking forward to a nice lazy night. he didn't wanna tell Ichigo and break the little cuties heart, but he semi needed a break from wiping the big babies butt. truthfully he would of maybe liked to go out for drinks, but had just picked up a bottle of sake along with some stir fry and picked out a action comedy. He'd also run into two of their old friends, Toshiro and Kenpachi (though with Kenpachi, friend might of been pushing it..) and they had semi invited themself over for a few drinks. 'I'm sure Ichigo won't mind company for a little bit.' Reniji thought, listing to the other two captain's argue over who drink more behind. "Guys, for the record, Unless you wanna go and get your own bottles, take it easy." Reniji called playfully over his shoulder, then slid the key's into the lock. they might of lived in a ok neighborhood but Reniji still didn't want someone just waltzing in.

Hearing the key's in the lock Ichigo gave a Cheshire grin and mentally giggled, while in a soft voice went "it's showtime~" and relaxed his control, letting out a massive wet fart and then more.. as he heard Reniji start to speak up."Hi sweetie I'm home! hope you don't mind but I ran into some friends...of..ours.." Reniji said before his voiced dropped off, and he facepalmed. Looking over his shoulder, and helpless to stop the torment of sludge that was escaping out of his bottom, Ichigo saw Toshiro looking at him amused till the smell hit him, then the platinum blond was holding his nose and waving a hand, and Kenpachi who just broke out into loud laughter. Blushing big time time and shaking, Ichigo gave a weak little wave and a soft "Oh..uh...Hiiii..." "nice huggies poo poo pants!" Toshiro grumbled, still holding his nose and Kenpachi just laughed harder. "-sigh-.. can you guys give me a few, apparently I have to put the baby down to bed..or at least change him." Reniji said, going from annoyed to smirking. "DADDY!"

2. Anger leads to bad choices

Ichigo hummed softly, he was once again cleaning the house, and it had a been a few week's since the disaster that had been the so called lazy night. Toshiro and Kenpachi had agreed to keep it to themselves, but mostly because who would believe them? Reniji had been a little bit less then pleased with Ichigo for fibbing, but Ichigo had gotten away with just having to go to bed in the spare room (AKA his nursery) without a diaper change and listen to the adults have fun. Still some babies never learn their lesson, so while Ichigo was shaking his hips and singing a few of his favorite pop songs from the human world, he was wearing thinner set of diapers and plastic pant's, that puffed out the back of his diaper shirt and poked out the leg holes. it was a pale blue diaper shirt with a big yellow star on the front, though the star was currently hidden by the black apron Ichigo was wearing while he dusted. the apron was a basic black and held extra wipes and a spare duster, as well as the music player that the big baby was listening to as he rocked that jam. He was currently in the living room, and had opened the curtains to let some sunlight in under the impression that the kids on the block were still away at some semi form of a summer camp, a assumption that would prove to be VERY wrong.

It was Kul who first noticed the sight of the big baby dancing in plain sight, and he'd crept across the lawn of Mean mister Ichigo, who was prone to yell at kids to stay off the awn and give them wedgies if they didn't listen. the reason why he kept kids away became clear as the close Kul got, the clearer it was the block grump was a silly big baby. Kul was small for his age and had a shaved head, but despite his tiny size he was somewhat known as the block tough guy and a semi hero to bullying victims. so naturally, seeing the biggest bully of them al was just a big dumb baby, he couldn't keep it to himself and waved over anther boy, Toji. "What is it?" Toji asked, raising a eyebrow as Kul put a finger to his lips. "And are you crazy? this is grumpy pants yard!" Toji added, lowering his voice to a hiss. Kul just grinned and pointed at the window, and Toji paused and then broke into a grin. "No friggen way.." "Go spread the word." Ku said.

Ichigo somehow missed the gathering of fan's outside the window, at least till he was wrapping up the final song on his play list and was paying the duster like it was a guitar. As the music faded and he dropped down to one knee, he opened his eyes wide as the sound of laughter and clapping filled his ears. Looking back at him, pointing and laughing, were all the kids on the block, and more, as apparently news of his little show had gotten out. they were pointing and laughing and chants for a encore broke out. His face turning Crimson Ichigo went to jump up but the padding had gotten damp from a combination of a wetting or two and the sweat he had worked up and instead he stumbled and plopped on his puffy butt instead. Naturally this only made the kids laugh harder, and some of them were taking pictures now as tears started to fill the big babies eyes. "Stop it! stop it!" Ichigo whined and pounded his fists on the floor, trying to glare at them and scare them away. Instead they giggled and d'awwed, and he heard at east one kid comment the big baby was having a tantrum. "I'll show you a tantrum!" Ichigo growled, and rolling onto his hands and knees, he crawled over quick towards the couch and used it to get to his feet, as the hoot's of laughter turned into sounds of worry. "I'm coming out then and giving you all wedgies so hard you'll be tasting your undies for a week! No! a MONTH!" he vowed, and on his way out the door shut the curtains. waddling out the door he never once paused to think about the fact he was STILL dressed like a big baby, or that he hadn't grabbed his keys when Reniji had installed automatic looking doors.

the kids had started to scatter as the front door flew open and Ichigo darted out onto the lawn, eyes filled with fury as he scanned the gathered crowd. "All right! who's fi-" he started, when he heard the sound of the door clicking shut. such had been the force when he'd opened it it had banged off of the wall and bounced back closed, and the loud click was the lock sliding into pace. "-st..Oh shit.." Ichigo whimpered. "pffft..did you just lock yourself out, diaper baby?" Kul asked, in a loud voice. "I..uh..Noo! I just.." Ichigo whined. "Well, if you're NOT stuck out here in your thick diapie wipies, go back inside baby man." Toji called. the other kids gained back their nerve as Ichigo's  anger was replaced with a trembling bottom lip, and he turned back, waddling towards the door, and letting out a LOUD fart. "Ah geez, the BABY is gonna crap himself..Now I DO hope he can get back inside!" a little girl called out. "S-Shut up! no I'm not!" Ichigo whined, even as anther fart erupted out of his backside. He tugged at the door handle once, twice and then a third time and sniffled, as the laughter grew. "awww poor baby Ichigo locked him poor widdle self out! he'll have to wait till daddies home to wet him in~" "Oh man,m he's gonna smell like a sewer by then!" "Yeah, sorry BABY butt, but while i have a little brother, your butt's WAY to big for his diapers!" as the taunts came faster and faster, Ichigo felt tears sliding down his cheeks and sludge flood into the back of his diapers. "STOP BEING SO MEAN TO WIDDLE ME!" he bawled, sinking to his knees and bawling for daddy. "..ah geez.. ok guys I think he's had enough.." kul said, coming over and holding a nose, but patting the big babies head. "there there, your big brothers and sisters will look after you." Kul said with a smile. Ichigo, just whimpered and sucked his thumb and the crotch snap of his diaper shirt popped opened.

The last thing Reniji expected to see as he came into view of his house was Ichigo of all people, surrounded by kids from around the block and clapping his hands and giggling happily. He was naked save for what looked like a rubber sheet that have been mangled into a somewhat passable diaper and his eyes were basically bank as he coo'ed and giggled, calling the kids around him big brother and big sister. '..this is going to be a interesting story.' Reniji thought, and strolled up.