#you toes hurt after tiptoeing everywhere

[ladykailitha]

Skate Circles Around Everyone

Steve knew he should be grateful that the unruly teenagers were out being Christmas carolers, leaving the adults to go ice skating. He knew that. But the problem was that he hadn’t ice skated since Clint Harrington decided ice skating was for girls and fairies when he was eight and got him into basketball instead.

Normally being an idiot on the ice wouldn’t be a problem. Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin wouldn’t care. And Steve hadn’t known Argyle long enough to care what he thought.

No, the problem came in the form of the most beautiful boy in Hawkins. Eddie Munson. A boy who was known to ice skate around pros, but only did it for fun.

For fun.

Fuck.

Steve was never going to live this down.

His only hope at this point is to sprain his ankle on his way to the rink and be forced to sit it out.

But the universe was out to get him and he made it to the rink without any mishaps. And late. Which meant that everyone else had gotten their skates on and where already out on the ice.

He got his skates and was trying to put them on, when Eddie slid to a stop in front of row of benches.

“There you are, Harrington,” Eddie said with a grin. “I thought you were going to bail on us.”

Steve looked up at him, sheepishly. “You wanted me to come, so I did.”

Eddie’s grin got bigger until he noticed Steve skates.

“Why are you wearing girls’ skates?”

Steve looked down at the white skates with a frown. “It’s what they gave me. I didn’t know what kind to get.”

Eddie frowned. “Take ‘em off.”

Steve hurried to do what he was told.

Eddie sat down beside him and put his blade guards back on. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve watched as Eddie chewed out the two attendants on duty. He couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but from the way Eddie was flailing his arms, it was quite the dressing down.

Eddie came back with the right kind of skates. He knelt in front of Steve and put the first one on. “Does that feel better?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“Just tell me if I pull too tight on the laces, okay?” Eddie murmured.

“Yeah, okay.” Steve’s brain had gone off line.

“How does that feel? Too tight? Too loose?” Eddie said after a moment.

Steve wiggled his toes. “No, it feels about where I would tie it.”

“Good.” And Eddie got to work doing the other skate. When he was done, he stood up and dusted off his knees. “Have you skated before?”

Steve shook his head. “Not in over a decade anyway. My dad didn’t like going and my mom stopped going to appease him. Apparently real men don’t ice skate.”

Eddie pressed his palms together and took a deep breath. “What the honest fuck?”

Steve laughed. “I tried bringing up hockey, but he dismissed the sport as Canadian trash, so...”

“Steve I say this with the deepest respect for you, but holy shit your father is a moron.”

“I know.”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s leg. “These are guards, you wear them everywhere that doesn’t have padding to protect it from the blades.” He pulled them off the skates. “But otherwise, you walk like your on tiptoe to the ice, okay?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie helped him to his feet and showed him what he meant. And Steve managed to make it to the ice without hurt himself.

“Good job,” Eddie said with a smile.

But the second Steve tried to step out on to the ice, his knees knocked together and he pinwheeled his arms.

Eddie reached out and grabbed Steve’s waist. “I’ve gotcha. Just relax.”

Steve stopped flailing and blushed at the warmth that came from Eddie’s palms pressing into his sides.

Eddie took his hands and instructed him on how to take the first few glides on the ice.

“You’re doing great,” he said when he had gotten Steve away from the side rail.

“Only because you’re holding on,” Steve whispered.

Eddie got really close. “Then I won’t let go.”

Steve was grateful that cold had already stained his cheeks red, otherwise Eddie might realize his feelings for him.

Eddie navigated them around the rink, skating backwards as effortlessly as most of the skaters were skating forward.

Once they got back around to the benches, having come full circle. Robin came skating up to them.

She nearly crashed into the side. “Whoa!”

Eddie let go of Steve for a moment to untangle her from the side and get her upright.

“Thanks!” she said brightly. “I can skate just fine, it’s the stopping I have a problem with.”

Eddie skated round her, stopping on a dime, every time he passed in front of her.

“Show off,” she said, swatting him the second time he did it.

He did a couple more times and then skated back over to Steve.

“What are you even doing hanging out with this loser when you could be skating circles around the asshole that’s hogging the middle of the rink?” Robin asked.

Eddie and Steve turned to see this blond guy in the middle of the rink doing jumps and spins, and clearly looking down at all the people who are only there for fun.

“Asshole,” Steve agreed.

“I’m having fun helping Steve learn how to skate though,” Eddie said, shoving his hair in his mouth.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s waist and leaned in. “And I would love to watch you outskate this piece of shit so everyone else can have too. And then you come back and show me and Robin how to stop without killing ourselves.”

Eddie eyed the blond dude for a moment, before he turned to Robin. “You’re on.”

“Yes!” Robin said, giving Steve a high five.

Eddie took off his jacket and handed it to Steve. Underneath Eddie was wearing his Metallica t-shirt over a long-sleeved black shirt, chains dangling from his waist.

Steve gulped.

“Hey, Robin,” Eddie said, “got a rubber band or something so I can pull my hair back?”

She pulled one off her wrist and handed it to him. Eddie pulled his hair back in a pony tail so that it revealed the lightning tattoo under his ear.

He saluted them and then was off.

“That was the hottest thing I have ever seen,” Steve said, clutching Eddie’s coat in his hands.

Robin laughed. “Just wait, dingus. Just wait.”

Eddie made a couple of laps to get his feel for the rink. Each rink was different and depending on when the last time the zamboni had been by, the ice could be pitted.

He could feel that it was good ice and perfect was what he was about to do.

Blondie was eyeing Eddie critically. Which was exactly what he wanted.

The guy did a 360 spin, Eddie would do a 720. The guy would leap into the air a couple feet off the ground, Eddie would go twice as high and land better.

Everything this guy did, Eddie did better. And then Eddie looked him dead in the eye before doing a back flip on the ice, landing perfectly on both feet. All of his friends cheered. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle joined Steve and Robin by the side of the rink.

The guy’s jaw fell to the floor. “Who the hell are you?”

Eddie shrugged. “Just some guy having fun with his friends. Friends that you’ve been sneering at all day. So why don’t you run along home and find something better to do with your time.”

The guy hightailed it out of there muttering something about Eddie being Hamilton or Orser.

“Who’s Hamilton?” Argyle asked when Eddie skating back over to them.

“Hmm?” Eddie replied tilting his head.

“The asshole ran out of here talking about Hamilton or some other guy Ostler or Osner something like that?” Nancy clarified.

Eddie mouthed ‘oh’. “Right, Scott Hamilton and Brian Orser are Olympic figure skaters who are known for doing back flips.”

“Can you–” Steve croaked. He cleared his throat. “Can you do that again?”

“The back flip?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded, not trusting his voice.

Eddie leaned in close. “Anything for you, big boy.”

He skated away from them and ran up to the backflip, executing it perfectly. They all cheered. Eddie came back up to them, grinning from ear to ear.

“How was that?” he asked, winking at Steve.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Robin asked.

“I saw it done by the two dudes that other guy mentioned and was determined to learn how to do it myself.” Eddie shrugged. “Scared the hell out my Uncle Wayne a couple of times when I first started, but now it’s kinda my signature thing.”

“It was amazing,” Steve breathed.

Suddenly there were a couple of girls that had also been skating came up to them.

“Oh my god,” the one said. “That was so cool what you did!”

“Can you teach us how to skate like that?” the other one cooed, wrapping her finger around her hair.

Eddie looked between them like a deer in the headlights. “Um, I’m with my friends right now. Maybe some other time.”

The first one tugged on his arm. “Come on, please?”

The second girl batted her eyelashes prettily. “At least show us how to skate backwards, because that was so amazing.”

“Hey,” Jonathan said moving forward. “He said later.”

The two girls gave him the stink eye and both Nancy and Argyle rolled their eyes.

“Just leave him alone,” Robin huffed.

The first girl sneered at her, eyeing her up and down. “Jealous, sweetie?”

Robin scoffed. “You’re not his type.”

The second girl snarled. “And you are, bitch?”

Steve and Jonathan pushed themselves between the second girl and Robin to prevent a fight from breaking out.

Eddie blushed. It was nice to see people stick up for him. But he knew how to end this whole fiasco without so much as another word.

He spun Steve around with his free arm and caught him when he wobbled a bit.

“Eddie?” Steve breathed.

All right so a word was uttered, but as it was his name, Eddie wasn’t going to quibble. He pulled Steve in closer and pressed a kiss on those perfect lips.

The two girls squawked indignantly and the one girl let go of Eddie’s arm. Which was fine with him, that meant he could put both arms around Steve.

The girls stormed off in a huff.

“Wow,” Steve murmured.

He turned to look over at their friends and they were all staring at them, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Do you think they’re going to snitch on Eddie and Steve?” Robin asked timidly.

“Shit,” Jonathan said. “They might to get back at him.”

Eddie just shrugged. “This isn’t the only rink in the area, if we get kicked out of this one, I know where we can go to continue skating. But I really hope not, because otherwise both of my little shows would be for naught, and that would make me sad.”

Steve cleared his throat. “And we can’t have you sad, now can we?”

Eddie grinned and dived in for another kiss. “That’s the best way to keep me happy.”

Steve grinned. “Then I think we’re going to be very happy indeed.” And dived in for another kiss.

*Masterlist

[lanaturnergetup]

out, damn spot

percy/audrey, drabble

written for @thethreebroomsticksfic weasleyweek, here's some percy!

ao3 link here <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Percy’s read Shakespeare before. Of course he has. Muggle or otherwise, he likes to enjoy the classics. So he’s well familiar with Macbeth. And King Lear. And Hamlet. (The tragedies are his favourite.) 

But he’s had no reason to think about it in the context of his personal life. 

Until, that is, the first time Audrey sleeps over at his flat. 

It’s new, this thing with them, it’s tentative and new. So new that he feels like tiptoeing everywhere he goes around her, so he doesn’t accidentally disrupt anything. She’s the only thing in his life that’s unequivocally good, and he doesn’t want to give that up. Work is tinged with a layer of guilt. His family life… it’s coloured at the edge with regret, and he doesn’t know how to toe the line with apologising before it gets annoying. Everything in his life is complicated in a way he doesn’t know how to process.

Everything but her. 

So he takes her out to dinner, a tasteful selection of Muggle wine bars and restaurants. They go to the park. They meet up after work. And she sleeps over, after a perfectly respectable period of time.

And because it’d been going too well, the moment she sleeps over… he has a nightmare. Not a nightmare, not exactly, but he dreams of Pius Thicknesse’s face, and Fred’s body, and the hurt look in his father’s eyes. He wakes up with a start, and leans against the pillow, panting and trying to calm his frantic heartbeat down. He thinks about breathing. Breathe in, hold it, let it out. Breathe in, hold it, let it out, but his damned heart won’t stop going fast, fast, fast, and he feels like it might explode out of his chest.

He wakes Audrey up, because of course he does. Who wouldn’t be awoken by a madman in bed next to him. “What are you thinking about?” she asks him.

He’s too tired to do anything but tell the truth. “My family,” he says. “I’ve made some mistakes…” 

“Did you kill anyone?” she asks. 

“No,” Percy says. “But–” 

“Did you get anyone else to kill anyone?” 

“No,” Percy says again. “But I was awful to them. I wasn’t there when it mattered, and when I got there, it was too late.” 

Audrey rolls over onto her back. “So you were a twat. Who isn’t? You don’t have to go all Lady Macbeth about it.” 

“I’m sorry?” Percy says. He’s so taken aback that he momentarily forgets his panic and fatigue and his regret. (Regret, always regret.) 

“Out, damned spot, out,” she quotes. Her face is wrinkled up with sleepiness, and the look on her face takes a moment for Percy to place. Amusement, he realises. She’s amused. 

“I’m not going all Lady Macbeth,” he finally says. What else is there to say? 

Already, the panic and guilt is leaving him, leaving room for… an odd happy little feeling in his chest, one he associates with Audrey and Audrey alone. 

“Good,” Audrey says. “It’s too late in the night for Shakespearan tragedies. Let’s go to sleep, shall we?” 

And, rolling over and wrapping an arm around her, Percy does. 

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

Midoriya Izuku

He was going to have a talk at some school about stupid hero shit and he was nervous as hell. So he looked up ways to increase self confidence on YouTube and found one where it says to talk to yourself in the mirror. And he did, he would wake up in the morning and head to the mirror talking about how the day is when he hadn't even open the curtains, laugh to his mirror self about how many times you queefed after you had sex and whisper into the mirror about the super super secret operation the heroes are planning to arrest All For One.

The last straw was when he would talk into the mirror giggling at 3 am in the morning, like, bro 😧

Bakugou Katsuki

Stomper. Stomps everywhere he goes like his feet doesn't get hurt from all that stomping??? It only gets worse when the two of you fight and he's too much of a pussy to start communicating like a normal human being and lets out his frustrations with his giant stomping. And both of you live in an apartment and the unit below has complained more than 3432 times and the EMBARASSMENT when the door dings and the neighbour downstairs is telling Bakugou to quiet down ONLY THEN he starts stomping around harder in anger because he's mad why can't the neighbour mind their own business 🤠

Todoroki Shoto

Just because he’s born into a rich family and always had maids to keep his house clean, this man has no idea about the simplest little chore 😐😐 you were out with your friends for a day and came back to the house to catch him washing dirty dishes with just the sponge…no detergent…then putting the plates onto the drying rack with food scraps STICKING on it. Paranoia made you wash all your plates and shit over again, do not trust this man with chores.

Kaminari Denki

Yes yes, it may seem fun and all to live with him BUT his chaotic personality is seriously going to be the death you. There is no resting when he’s in the house bestie. Once, you said something about wanting to eat korean friend chicken and he literally bought plane tickets to south korea that was going to land off in two hours 😃 neway after eating yourself stuffed with chicken, he bought you to walk the great china walls just cuz it was close, then Russia and before you knew it, you toured the whole world and only came back after a year later 🙃

Tenya Ilda

Mans got some OCD and it is not those small ones. You have to place those decorations and knick-knacks exactly on their specific spot, not too right and not too left. And he thinks you have a memory quirk or something?? Cause naw. Then it slowly gets worse like you can't sit on the couch or you'll create an ass mark on it, can't eat the fruit on the table or he's telling you to get those that you've taken in the store, even when it's 12 AM in the morning. And you're fucking done when you have to tiptoe on the floor because you'll ruin the perfect amount of dust he just checked for 😑😐 You left him and his perfect amount of dust the next morning.

Dabi

Istg he's literally so fucking annoying his existence is probably just to piss you off. He leaves the last piece of the toilet paper roll instead of taking a new one just because he's lazy and what's worse is that the single last piece wasn't even whole, it's literally torn in HALF 😐 Also suffocates you under the blanket after he cracked a big obese-typa-fat bubbly shart and shoves his big toe after a day of sweaty socked feet into your nose when you're asleep.

Shigaraki Tomura

He does not clean up after himself?? There are wrappers, plastics, balled-up papers and used condoms all over the place and he doesn't even open the windows to let the air circulate. He also takes out the trash TWICE A MONTH???!! Like, no wonder Dabi moved out the first month of sharing the place with him. Anyway, you packed your bags when you saw an adventurous traveler cockroach wandering near his open, snoring dry mouth at night 😋😋

TAGGING— @otivez @kakashisbook @shrynkk @apchmon

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[gnocchighoul]

Hmm.. kind of a random thing but that's how my brain works sometimes but hear me out! The Bros (plus undatables and Luke if you want) get turned into cats. What type of cat would they be, how would mc react, and how would they react to being a cat.

I had SO much fun writing this one. Thank you for this excellent prompt 💗

This is just the demon bros getting turned into cats, but I might make a part two with the undateables! :D

~

Lucifer

Oh he’s going to be so pissed off. 

Seriously, even as a cat, his murder-death-murder-death stare is beyond intense. He will sit himself high up on furniture to glare down on everyone like the prettiest gargoyle you’ve ever seen. 

Nobody is allowed to come near him. He will swat and hiss at anyone and everyone who approaches, unless they are approaching to turn him back into a demon. 

BUT if you had nothing to do with this curse that’s fallen upon him, then he’ll probably let you near, as long as you’re not like, weird about it. Seriously, don’t baby talk at him, he’s not actually a cat.

Cat-Lucifer will probably just want to constantly stand on your shoulders and wrap his tail around your neck, which isn’t super comfortable because he’s not exactly small and dainty. 

Also, every time you say something stupid he’s gonna bite your ear lol

Tbh he’s probably going to make you carry him everywhere like that and he’s gonna control where you go -- you know, kinda like ratatouille LMAO

Mammon

You know those cats that climb literally everything and anything?

Yeah.

When he first gets turned into a cat, he freaks the fuck out. But when he finally calms down and isn’t meowing up an angry storm, he’s gonna realize that this is a great opportunity. for evil.

He's gonna book it the second he realizes that he can literally be a cat-thief.

Nothing is safe from his grabby little gremlin paws.

He steals so much shit (wallets, Asmo’s jewelry, Levi’s limited edition collectors items--anything he can carry in his mouth or drag around) and then he stashes it all in your room, because unfortunately, becoming a cat didn’t make him any smarter.

Lucifer tasks you with just sitting in your room and keeping track of everything cat-Mams steals so that you can return everything to their rightful owners.

You quickly become used to cat-Mams sauntering in and out of your room every five minutes with his newfound riches.

So it’s a bit concerning when Mams darts out of your room after stashing a wallet in his hoard, and doesn’t come back after thirty minutes.

Naturally, you go looking for him.

You’ve only been searching for about twenty minutes, when pathetic meowing reaches your ears. You follow the sound, and--

You find him stuck in a cardboard box.

(before fishing him out, you take tons of pictures. He’s very upset.)

Levi

Levi is so distraught. He’s literally going to just wail and roll around on the floor until somebody picks him up. 

He’s literally the crying cat meme.

Once he’s in your arms, do not put him down. He’s very sad and his reflexes really aren’t good. You know how you can just kinda toss cats onto the floor and they’ll land on their feet just fine?

He will not. 

Is suuuuper jumpy and only trusts you (and maybe Beel, but he’s lowkey afraid that Beel is going to eat him.) 

You should probably get him one of those bubble back-packs that cats can sit in and carry him around in that. 

He has the worst time as a cat. He just wants to play his video games :(

(But if you give him lots of smooches, it’ll make his suffering a little bit easier to deal with. But like, he’s gonna turn into an overwhelmed ragdoll when u start giving him the smooches)

Satan

Honestly? He isn’t that opposed to being a cat for a little while.

But he’s also like. So hyperactive. Goes from 0-1000 in half a second.

He’s got the zoomies.

He’s gonna parkour his way around the house of lamentation, testing how fast he can zoom, how high and far he can jump (and how far he can fall without hurting himself)

He’s gonna do a backflip off lucifer at the speed of light and then sprint away as fast as he can to go wreck some shit

If you want to hold him, you’re going to have to catch him mid-air. If he doesn’t just squirm out of your arms and actually lets you pet him, he’s gonna stare you dead in the eyes, extend his claws, and then pat your leg with his lil toe beans.

You’re not entirely sure if that means ‘keep petting me’ or ‘stop it right now’ so you just kinda scratch his ears instead

Asmo

Even as a cat he’s beautiful and everybody has to see just how pretty he is. 

He’s constantly striking poses. 

Looking back over his shoulder. Stretching his leggies out so you can see how long and lean they are. Contorting his body in the WEIRDEST ways because he’s even more flexible now.

He does not run anywhere, he struts very daintily and model-like.

He’s gonna be so affectionate. Constantly rubbing his cheeks all over you, and leaning against you, but be careful while you give him pets because if you mess up his fur he’s gonna swat your hands away.

He’s also definitely going to be really annoying and constantly walk in front of your feet and trip you up. Where are you going, why aren’t you admiring him, dammit

You know how most cats hate water?

Not asmo. 

He’s gonna make you fill the bathtub up to his chin so he can float around on his tiptoes with just the upper half of his head out of the water like a crocodile. 

Then you have to blow-dry him until he’s all nice and fluffy and give him a good brush. 

He will absolutely tolerate you dressing him up and taking pictures as long as you make him look nice. He won’t allow you to put him in stupid costumes (he’s gonna bite you when you bust out a lobster costume) but a pearl necklace? Hell yeah.

Beel

Feed him dammit, he’s starving.

Cat-Beel is going to gnaw on EVERYTHING. Furniture. Books. Clothes. Your hands and ankles. 

It’s not anxiety -- honestly he really doesn’t mind being a cat -- he’s just so hungy.

Also he’s MASSIVE. 

You don’t actually know that he’s been turned into a cat until you go to the kitchen for a snack and find an orange & white cat the size of a literal child raiding the fridge. 

Which brings me to my next point -- he’s gonna be SUCH a snuggle bug. Like those really big dogs that insist on sitting in your lap and crushing you. If he isn’t eating then he just wants to flop on top of you and crush you with his love.

You can baby-talk at him if you want, as long as you give him treats and snuggle him. 

He purrs so. Much. 

Will also let u just roll him around and do whatever you want to him dkjncdsn he’s honestly the chillest out of them all

Belphie

God he’s so fucking upset at first, like claws out, hissing and spitting at everyone, full on tantruming upset, BUT THEN. but then. You pick him up and press a kiss to his sweet little triangle head and he bleps and it's all over.

Good luck getting anything done. Cat-Belphie is going to demand your full attention for snuggles CONSTANTLY. 

No, he doesn’t care that you’re trying to research ways to turn him back, he’s gonna plop his little butt on the tome you’re attempting to read until you give him love, dammit.

Honestly, Belphie being a cat isn’t that much different from normal. The biggest difference is that now he can squeeze into weirder places to nap, which makes it very difficult to keep track of him. 

After searching for two fucking hours, you, Satan, Levi, and Beel find him stretched out across the arms of one of the chandeliers in the dining room, like it’s some kind of weird hammock. 

He’s fast asleep. Nobody knows how he got up there. 

(To get down, he ends up yeeting himself into Beel’s arms.)

If Bells isn’t napping, then he’s hiding under furniture, waiting for his next victim to walk by so he can attack their ankles.

(also the most likely to bite u when he wants your attention)

((part 2 with the undateables))

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Hey! A new wlw short story is up on my Patreon. Check it out! And please consider becoming a Patron for more wlw writing and more. As a struggling artist anything helps.

Here’s a free preview:

Headlights Girl

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the land, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they shrank away from my gaze deep into their cages into the nooks and crannies. Most things do.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness and sleep. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There have been stranger kids born in the age of spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for small articles and mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy with fire on his breath. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father calls it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He doesn’t look at me much. And I know what he means. I know what he means when he calls it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They could barely afford to send me to That School. I didn’t want to be there either.

We weren’t the same, not really. None of us are the same age and most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons under flat mattresses. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or have a pig-nose or blackhole for a nose. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he runs away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I’m 16 when I heel-toe my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with a collection of loose clothes, change, a bath towel, sewing kit, a bible written in a language I don’t speak, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he’s at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at Target and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There’s a beer in front of his idle hands and he glances at the bag on my shoulder.

He sighs like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafs through a wad of cash he kept in a safe in the garage. He hands me almost three hundred bucks and we nod at each other. I’m out the door before the midnight bus arrives.

I watch the headlights of the bus approach through dense summer night and think it must be like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I get on the bus and kick my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, I cross my arms over my chest, and watch the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet move like tides. They toss me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I taste the painted deserts toward the west. I dip my toes into the largest cities with lights brighter than my own. I graze my palms on neon signs and hunch my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touches me. They don’t come close enough when I open my eyes and they see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that will smite them.

I find my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gather. I don’t talk much, I don’t like to, and people stare at me whether I’m speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it aches. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’ve never seen a movie in any theatres, but I can imagine what it’s like.

I like the ocean cities best with their pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding white paths, and crushed seashell parking lots. I like the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkles from the ocean water as it sun-dries. I camp out on beaches and bum cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I’m good at taking care of myself once I get in a rhythm.

Sometimes, or often, I dream of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dream of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I am weighted down through the cold to where no human has ever been before. I open my eyes there, I open them all the way, lightning-bright, and in my dreams, the salt doesn’t sting. It doesn’t hurt, instead, I light up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I do something good then. Maybe I do something good and bring the sun to places that have forgotten it.

I meet Mags on the beach. She’s got one eye and five teeth and carries around string and scissors everywhere. She smells like seawater and roasting kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes are neat despite her leather-cracked skin and her arms and neck are covered with tattoos of shipwrecks. She cackles and pulls me aside the first night we meet.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is old creaking wood. I am quiet. “I could give you one.” She offers with a grin that is more empty space than anything.

I shake my head. “Nana.”

“What do you like, kid?”

I shake my head again.

Mags likes me more than I deserve. I pocket her last pair of socks when she’s not looking. She never mentions it and drags me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She takes me to the soup restaurant for something that isn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackles, she spits when she talks, people glare at her as well.

I think she’s normal, not touched by the spirits, but she likes me more than most people and I don’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snort. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snap.

“Lippy-wild thing. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heats the needle before she uses it, red hot and untouchable. She dips it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she calls them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin with color and movement. She shows me on her right foot first, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It takes her six hours to make a little shipwreck right above her big toe. It’s a schooner going under and I’m the only witness to the way she makes the waves come to life and crash against its sides. I can’t look away and I forget to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washes another needle. She heats it red-hot. She dips it in ink and hands it to me.

I practice all over my thighs first, there’s enough meat there and it’s easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looks like nothing but squiggles, a wobbly stick figure on a skateboard, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practice designs in the sand. Mags takes me to the museum on Sundays. They’re free on Sundays.

Something stirs in my chest, even as the guards yell at me about how flash photography isn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I’m shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rots roars to life in my chest.

I stab in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake next, and then finally, something good, something that gives people a reason to stare. I make it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than the others.

I don’t want to leave the ocean city. Mags says she has to keep moving though. She gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackles. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winks as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I want to make her pinky-promise like I’m a kid again and begging one of the other kids to tell me if I’m actually beautiful when I close my eyes. I can’t do that; I wave as she totters up the steps of the bus and is taken away with the tides of her own feet. ------------ I get an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked to them first and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but coach surfing and camping out on beaches is a tiring pastime. Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie run a tattoo shop together. Davies walks like he’s never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie has a throw-pillow that says “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies is nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie has topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’s been asked to leave a number of stores before the children start staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me, it’s not that type of town. I rankle at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. I brush off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie calls me “Shadow” and I think it’s a joke. Davies says I must be possessed by the ghost of a dead star and now I’m nothing but a blackhole: take everything in and let nothing out.

Neither of them lets me touch a needle in those first six months. They have me practice on pig skin and stand by their shoulder as they work. I feel like a dental assistant except I’m the hanging light above shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stand at their shoulder as they draw thick lines and thin dots and make hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They ask me to stop blinking and stand still. I almost walk out and find a new cliff to crash against, almost. No one had ever expected me to show up to something before. No one cared if I went to school or when I got home. And no one kept any tabs on me after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, it didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow.” She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I am eloquent in the morning.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want the desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

I grumble. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before. I tell myself I’ll just try it out, no harm in having a bit of a savings anyway. No harm in seeing what the fuss was about.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with my eyes. I don’t let up though. I put on pants for this, after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder now.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, he had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me now as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “The line’s barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” He chuckled darkly. His grin is crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.

“Look at you go. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun before the new year. I tell myself I’ll only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I don’t have to actually stay. I’ll just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chases after girls with eyes that glow.

I don’t break my lease. I draw cartoon heroes in speedos on tipsy college girls who swear they’re sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I have to give two refunds for a duck that turns out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with nothing but doors ahead of her. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I’m best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It’s dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hide my smile when she goes to my bosses and points at it while jumping up and down. The best thing she’s ever seen. She should pay us double. Where did you get this girl? I try not to blink so they can’t see the wetness under my eyes.

Sometimes I still stand by the bus stop to check who’s coming off. I don’t expect to see Mags again so soon, but sometimes I want to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

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[dork-empress]

Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ��Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

l,

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

[dreadpoetssociety]

That’s Not Some Girl, That’s My Sister

TW: Abuse, physical injuries

Request: 

I noticed you wrote Spencer X Sister!Reader. I was wondering if you could write a Penelope Garcia X Little!Sister!Reader. When their parents died Y/N was just born so she was put into foster care because Garcia couldn’t care for her. Garcia visits her every chance they get and they keep in touch 24/7. What Garcia doesn’t know is that Y/N is being abused at her foster home. When she turns 16 it gets so bad that she can barely move. One day she walks into the bau bloodied and bruised... (1/?) Morgan notices her, (The team doesn’t know she exists) and is like, “Hey kid you alright?” She drops to the floor and Garcia comes out to prep the team for a case and sees her on the floor. She drops her papers and runs over, holding her close. The team, who don’t know Y/N come out and ask what’s wrong and Morgan says that some kid walked in bleeding. Garcia gets defensive and says, “She’s not some kid, she’s my sister and her name is Y/N” They bring her to the hospital and... (2/3) and Garcia does her magic to get her foster parents arrested and she adopts her. And then the whole team welcomes her and it’s super fluffy ending? Sorry this was so long. Thank you so much❤️ If you don’t want to do this request you can delete it, sorry about that :) (3/3)

Note: Remember how I said there would be no fics tonight because I have school in the morning and didn’t do homework? Well, I lied. Please feel free to send me more requests! To those who already have, just know that I am working on ALL of them. Also, realizing now that I didn’t exactly stick to this prompt regarding the part where Y/N walks in and Garcia sees her, but hopefully it is still okay!!!

Penelope Garcia x Sister!Reader

()()()()()()

It wasn’t so much that Penelope Garcia had kept you a secret, but that you had never come up in conversation. Never once had anyone asked if the tech goddess had siblings. The team never found it their business to question after knowing the water of your parents. She also believed that the less they knew, the safer you were from the criminals that the analyst helped to catch.

Unbeknownst to her, however, this was far from the truth.

You never knew your parents like your sister did. You had just been born, and Penelope was deemed unable to care for you, you had no other family, so you wound up in foster care. You’d gone from house to house, family to family, but no matter where you were, you were always in contact with your elder sister. You were allowed to visit each other regularly, and those visits were the only thing you looked forward to. The only times you felt safe.

You were actually just leaving a visit for lunch with Penelope and walking towards her as you passed by a large building.

“Y/N, I didn’t even realized we walked by, but this is where I work!” the blonde said with a smile.

“Really? The FBI is just out here?” you asked.

“Pretty much.” she replied, and then her eyes grew wide and a gasp escaped her lips, “Oh my goodness, Y/N, you should visit sometime.”

“Finally!” you exclaimed, “I have ALWAYS wanted to visit, but didn’t want to invite myself.” your sister laughed.

“I haven’t really told them about you. I was never really sure how, but it seems like a good enough time now that you’re 16.” As you stepped closer and closer to the car, your mood began to drop, not knowing what pain would face you at home this time. You figured you could tell Penelope, but you’d been in many abusive foster homes, the most they would do is just move you to another one, if anything at all, and you could never ask your sister to take you in as her responsibility. From what she’s said, her job is very stressful, and you figured you would just add to that.

It wasn’t long before you were at your doorstep waving goodbye. Sighing, you turned and creaked open he door that led straight to your living hell. Joseph, your foster father, was on his stingy recliner, bottles of various different alcohols surrounded him. He himself, however, was asleep. You hated him. You could not wait for the day that you were set free from this place, the day you could finally fight him back. The man was a drunk, and a violent one at that. And even then, it’s nowhere near as bad than when he was sober. He knew how to hurt more when he was thinking straight. You tried to tiptoe around him to get to your room, but knocked something over, waking him up. Your heart genuinely stopped. You knew what would happen next.

The greasy man woke, and both of you locked eyes as he slowly sat up.

“Now, what the hell did I tell you about making noise?” he slurred loudly as he approached you, “Huh, brat?”

“I’m sorry, sir, it was an accident, it won’t happen again.” you said nervously. It was then that you both looked down at what had fell, and it was a glass decoration, which had now shattered into pieces. You knew you were in for it in that moment.

And Joseph didn’t hesitate. He hit you across the face, knocking you to the ground with your arm landing on some of the glass. You screamed out in pain, which resulted with more violence from the man standing over you.

“Clean it up!” he screamed, “Right now!” you tried to get up to get the broom, but he shoved you back down.

“With your hands.” he said. You looked up at him, tears in your eyes, when he put his foot on the top of your head, pushing your face down. Small shards cut up your cheek. You began to pick up pieces of the glass, one cutting you every now and then. Joseph kicked or punched every so often when he thought you were not doing a good enough job. By the end, you could barely move. You were bleeding everywhere, Joseph had knocked the wind out of you, hit and punched and kicked in any area he could have. At this point, you really thought you were going to die. And for a split second, you were almost relieved by the thought.

Eventually, Joseph passed out again on his recliner while you laid motionless on the floor nearby. It was then that you decided.  You didn’t care what happened to you next, but you were not coming back to this house.

()()()()()()

How you even made it to the building your sister pointed out to you earlier was beyond you.  It had taken you so long to move your body there that it was late at night now. You moved swiftly through the building, and reading the signs with the departments and their floors, you spotted the BAU. How nobody spotted you was also surprising. This was, after all, an FBI building, and you were a 16 year old girl who could barely stay conscious, bleeding from every pore and bruised at every inch.

The elevator brought you to a set of glass doors. There were desks everywhere, but most were empty. It seemed as though the room at the top of the small set of stairs was having a meeting, though, and you thought maybe Penelope was there. You hoped so badly that she was there. You got blood on the handle opening the door.

A man turned around from a coffee machine at the sound of your entering. He dropped his cup quickly and ran to you.

“Hey, kid? You alright?” he questioned, knowing that you obviously were not. You felt everything slipping away from you in that moment, and the world around you went dark.

‘

()()()()()()

“Guys? Get out here, now!” Morgan yelled as he fell with you to the floor, getting your blood on his shirt and his hands. Your whole team came rushing out of the room where Garcia had been briefing a case.

“What happened?” Hotch asked, practically jumping the stairs.

“I don’t know, this girl just came in and just passed out like this.” Morgan replied. Garcia had been behind Spencer, and when she stepped around him, her whole world was destroyed.

“Morgan!” she screamed, “That’s not some girl, that’s my sister, and her name is Y/N! Oh my god.” she ran to your unconscious body, dropping papers and a remote, and fell to her knees to hold you close. Spencer, even though he knew you had only just fell unconscious, walked over and put two fingers to your neck to check for a pulse, and was quite relieved when he found one.

“Call an ambulance,” Garcia sobbed, “please. Someone please.”

“An ambulance coming here would take too long given the traffic. It doesn’t seem to be fatal, let’s take her in one of the SUVs” Spencer suggested. Garcia nodded.

Morgan picked you up, JJ and Emily helped Garcia to the car, while Spencer drove since he would know the fastest route. Rossi stayed behind. You were asleep in the hospital for hours due to the fact that they kept you under in order to remove all the glass shards hidden throughout your skin. Your eyes and arms and torso were bruised heavily, but thankfully nothing was broken.

You were met with a group of people you’d never seen before when you woke up. Searching around the room you realized you were in a hospital bed, and soon enough remembered what brought you there.

“Huh?” was all you said. Penelope shot up instantly, smiling at you with tears in her eyes.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re awake. What happened to you?” she cried. You blinked for a few seconds.

“Garcia, she just woke up, she might not be able to talk about it, yet.” JJ reminded. It was quiet for a moment, until you spoke again.

“Joseph.” you said. You were waking up a little more now, pain spread through your body slowly and you winced with every move. Trying to sit up, you were quickly, but softly, pushed back down by a man in a black t-shirt.

“No, kid, you need to rest.” he said, “Who’s this Joseph? I just want to have a little chat.”

“My foster father.” you sighed. Everybody’s face in the room dropped, especially Penelope’s upon finding out you weren’t safe at home anymore.

“Y/N. . . “ she sobbed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you with it.” you shrugged, which send a chilling pain from your shoulder to the ends of your toes, and you groaned.

“Take it easy, kid.”

“Y/N M/N Garcia,” Penelope replied firmly, “You have not ever been, nor will you ever be a bother to me. Especially, ESPECIALLY, if you aren’t in a safe situation. I would do anything for you, Y/N. We’re getting you out of that house. When you’re in a dangerous situation don’t you ever think not to tell someone, Y/N.”

She thought for a moment, “In fact, we’re going to do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I’m going to adopt you. No more foster homes, we’ll be together more often, you’ll be safe.”

“Really?” you smiled.

“Yes, really. And we’re throwing Joseph in prison.” you’d never heard anger in Penelope’s voice like you were hearing right now. For a moment, you both cried together. You knew now that you should’ve mentioned it sooner, but that also you weren’t going to have to worry about it anymore. All the pain, it was going to go away. Not mentally, not completely yet, but you were never going to go home and be afraid of what would happen when you stepped through the door. Instead, you would be excited, for every laugh, every smile, every story, every memory that you were going to make with your sister. 

“By the way,” you sniffed, “who are all these people?”

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “This is my team! That’s Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, JJ, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan.”

“You,” you pointed weakly at Morgan, “you’re the one who calls her ‘Baby Girl.’” the man laughed.

“The one and only.”

“And you,” you pointed at Spencer, “you’re the genius one right? The one that does magic. Tell me a fact.”

“Uh,” he thought for a second, “V616 is the closest back hole to planet Earth. It’s actually 3,000 light years away. Also, black holes warp time and space. If you put a clock in a black hole, but you stood outside of it, it would actually appear to be ticking slower.”

“Of course.” Morgan says, “Of course you would know that.”

“She asked.” the tall man shrugged with a smirk, “I’ve got plenty more of those, too. And yes, magic tricks.”

You turned toward JJ and Emily, “You guys are like, her best friends.”

The two nodded, “Wouldn’t want to be anyone else.” JJ replied. Lastly, you turned to Hotch.

“Boss.”

“Yes.” was all he said in response.

“Why are you all here though?” you asked, “You don’t even know me.”

All of them were quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say, when Emily spoke up.

“Garcia’s family. So you’re family.” the rest of them seemed to agree. You smiled at your apparently newfound family, “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

Although you ended up falling asleep from the drugs that they gave you for the pain, the next few days consisted of getting to know Penelope’s team. Spencer spent hours telling you things and doing magic tricks, while Morgan, JJ, and Emily told you stories of your sister while she sat and laughed. Hotch visited a few times here and there to check up and say hello.

You began to realize soon enough that a new chapter was about to begin, one without abuse, without Joseph, and with your sister that you looked up to more than ever, and her team that treated you like their own. In the beginning, you were told you might not have enough evidence on Joseph to get him arrested, which all of you found to be complete bull. You were completely laid up in a hospital because of him, but in the end, your tech genius sister “accidentally” happened across some illegal files embedded in his computer, along with multiple abuse complaints about him that just so happened to get the court to allow you to live with Penelope, and Joseph in prison.

[hiccstrxd]

Heaven is you

This was an idea i had for Rayla's birthday and the outline seemed too wholesome to not do it lol. It has family feels and rayllum being soft as always. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness. But this one in particular has brought her an abundant amount of joy, filling her heart with the purest of loves.

Or a recollection of Rayla’s birthdays through the years.

i.

Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness.

She recalls being four and waking up to her mum’s soft voice in her ear, a happy birthday, my love being lovingly murmured in the air. She would pretend that she was asleep, cracking one eye open from time to time and doing her best to contain in her laughter as her mother would start to rub her hair soothingly to wake her up. But she would burst into a fit of giggles before her mum could say anything else — even though Rayla is pretty sure she saw past her flimsy excuse of a stoic facade — and her mother would start to laugh alongside her, tickling her belly and asking her when has her little moonbeam gotten this sneaky.

She hadn’t, obviously.

She’d scoop her in her arms and they would go downstairs where her dad would be cooking her favorite breakfast — he’d always go all out when it was her birthday. And he’d see them still laughing as they approached, he’d see them — his two favorite people ever — and he’d come up to them, lifting her in his arms and making her laugh, telling her that today she chose what they would do because today was all hers. Because he’d move earth and sky for his tiny warrior.

And she remembers the glimmer in her mum’s eyes, her father’s beaming smile, her own expression mirroring theirs; she remembers feeling loved, safe, and content.

ii.

Rayla recalls being eleven and coming back after nearly an entire day of training to a cake on the dining table, a sole candle lit on its center, and a neatly folded paper resting beside it. It was rather late, her whole body ached as the practice had been a vigorous one, but upon seeing the homemade gateau she no longer felt the ever consuming exhaustion. No, she felt lighter, more at ease.

Ethari had been sporting the warmest of smiles, his eyes showing every bit of love towards his foster daughter who they had come to care for as their own. Runaan had walked over to where his husband was and stood right next to him, somehow matching his emotion almost instantly — he had been sort of tense before leaving the meadow — and they had wished her the happiest of birthdays, holding her tightly in their embrace, muttering words of comfort and pride and love.

She remembers thinking that there was still a void in her heart as the aftermath of her parents’ absence, but being there surrounded by her two guardians that loved her an abundant amount and whom she loved as much in return, that showed her day after day their support and their care was enough to bring her solace.

She had felt love all the same.

And she always looked forward to reading her parents’ letter at the end of the end. The words were like a warm hug from afar. She became misty-eyed and held the letter close to her heart for hours as if she was keeping her parents in a safe place near her heart.

iii.

She recalls being sixteen and sitting alone in the Xadian forest. She had been wounded and restless, tired and alone. Everywhere and everything hurt, but ironically she had felt numb from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely remembered what that day was supposed to be.

And the bittersweet afterthought made matters worse because then the pang in her chest was just a little too hard to ignore.

Rayla had felt cold and empty, being alone with her thoughts was as harmful as it sounded and the unbecoming urge to cry was getting hard to suppress. But she ended up shedding tears, letting them fall freely as they have been welling up and contained in since much too long ago.

It was her birthday, and she had tried to forget it, making herself not feel, perhaps then the pain would subdue.

It hadn’t.

iv.

It was her birthday and she couldn’t get the royal physician’s words out of her head. They were spinning, echoing, repeating themselves. And she felt equal amounts of excitement and trepidation all at once.

Congratulations Your Highness, you’re with child.

They have been trying, of course, they have, so the news shouldn’t be such a surprise to hear that their efforts had actually turned out fructiferous. But they have, and she didn’t know how to assimilate them without cutting the appointment short and leaving a very confused physician behind, one who was patiently waiting for a reaction out of her.

Because she was excited and elated and so beyond happy that it was taking a lot of willpower to remain seated and not run off to find Callum.

“Your Highness? Is everything all right?”

She blinked, “Of course.” Rayla offered them a smile. How could it not be, honestly?

And after a couple of recommendations and how they’d like to see her in the span of a few weeks — after all, the babe was still a halfling and the pregnancy was to be monitored constantly for that matter — they bid her goodbye with another well-meaning congratulation on the way.

Rayla couldn’t help the fast pace in which she was walking nor the beaming smile from breaking out.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking nonstop for you. What did the physician say?” She heard Callum’s voice round the corner; the worried tone of her husband of three years was enough to make her smile deepened because he was just the sweetest person ever and she just knows that he’s going to be the best father out there.

And the mere thought was enough to make her heart burst with adoration.

He took a couple of steps forward and placed one hand on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth, “Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words left her mouth before she had time to catch herself, before she had any time to dwell on how to tell him, but after they were out, she knows that there was no better way, no better time. Because seeing those expressive, loving eyes widen in realization, going through every emotion in the span of a second, how his hand stilled its movement on her cheek and how she heard his breath catch in his throat was as heartwarming as if she’d had outlined a grander plan in advance to break the big news to him.

“Really?” He whispered, barely audible.

She hummed.

“You are pregnant?”

She hummed again.

“There’ll be a tiny, perfect mix of the both of us in a couple of months?”

Rayla nodded unable to keep the grin off her face, her arms coming upwards to lace them loosely around his neck and raising herself on her tiptoes to breath small kisses across his cheek — damn those two inches he had gained on her. Their chests were pressed together, and she felt the deep rumble in his chest that soon turned into a peal of boisterous laughter that surely could be heard through the entire hallway. The sound was too contagious to not let out one of her own.

His arms came to encircle her waist, engulfing her in a tight hug, both of them shaking with laughter and happiness and pure delight.

“We’re having a baby.”

“We are.”

They pulled back slightly, faces inches away from each other’s, noses brushing against one another, breaths mingling in their shared space. She wanted to capture this blissful moment in a picture.

And then his lips slowly curved into a smug grin.

“Don’t.” Rayla raised a single brow, looking pointedly at him because she knew where his mind had headed in a matter of seconds. And because she also remembers rather vividly exactly what he had thought about — it had been a very nice anniversary gift, after all. It had carried the promise of fervent love, a burning passion, and a couple’s desire of at last starting a family.

He let out an amused laugh, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I practically saw you thinking about it!” She rolled her eyes playfully and crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff in faux disbelief at her husband’s antics. They locked gazes, grass green meeting amethyst violet, a glimmer in both of them. They couldn’t help the small laugh thereafter.

His eyes softened as the laughter ceased, pulling her closer by the waist and planting one tender kiss on the lips, feeling all the love conveyed in such a small action and trying to reciprocate as much as she was receiving.

“I love you.” She said lovingly when they parted, her hands coming up to cup his jaw in a light grasp.

He brought one hand to his lips, kissing the underside softly, “I adore you.”

Rayla knows that it wouldn’t be easy, parenting — motherhood— never was as the rising self-doubts, the exhaustion of both mind and body, the anxiety of diving into the unknown, and all the possible mistakes that were bound to be made. But, she thinks, as long as they have each other — and everyone else who has been there for that matter — this baby would be raised with abundant love and affection. She'd make sure of it.

It was superfluous to say that this birthday by far had brought her one of her greatest joys. A surprise that couldn’t be topped by any other.

[cablesscutie]

ZKDD Day 19: Crashing Waves

For @favlie - a New Year’s kiss for you!

It is not the New Year for Katara.  For the Southern Water Tribe, the year had started moons ago on the solstice, with the first hint of sunrise after The Longest Night.  But here in the Fire Nation, the year is beginning now with the end of the rainy season.  Everywhere she looks, the land is a green so vibrant that it nearly hurts to look at.  Flowers are shaking raindrops from their petals and every path is dotted with little verdant shoots peeking up from under and around stones.  After months of so much gray, the ocean seems to glitter especially bright on Ember Island, where Zuko has brought her to celebrate.

“We put out candles everywhere,” he tells her.  “The altars people keep for ancestors or house gods get lit up, and then people send these little boats out to sea or release lanterns into the sky if they aren’t near the coast.”

“Wow,” she says, feeling a little in awe of the spectacle of it all.  In her mind’s eye, she can already see the glittering lights.

“Trust me, however beautiful you’re imagining it, it’s more,” Zuko promises, his smile wide and easy - boyish in a way he so rarely seems anymore.  “It’s my favorite holiday.”

“I can’t wait,” she says, and kisses his cheek, then lets him pull her towards the florist stand to pick flowers to decorate the fragile wooden boat.

By sunset, when it is time to bid the old year goodbye, their final creation is flecked with white and yellow blossoms, the petals like licking candle flames already.  As they prepare to make their way down to the familiar private beach, Zuko cradles it gently in his hands, Katara’s arm linked with his.  Their feet press into the soft sand, as they walk down to the waterline.  The shore as far as she can see is already flooded with tiny flickering lights as people release their boats, and from the center of the island,  streams of lanterns trickle up, up, up into the sky, like early stars.  They wade into the surf, Katara’s skirt tied up at her hip, and she can see Zuko trying not to stare too much at how much of her legs are exposed.

“Come on,” she laughs, trying to tug him in deeper, maybe coax him into a late night swim, but he stands firm.

“We have to stay here.”

“Is this tradition, or is the Fire Lord just scared to get a little wet?” she asks, kicking a small spray of water at him.  He laughs and dodges half-heartedly.

“It actually is tradition.  We need to stay where the waves are breaking so we can jump over them and make our wishes.”

“Wishes?”  He nods.

“Yeah.  Seven of them.”

“Do I get to hear yours?  Or are they a secret?”

“You’re supposed to say them out loud.  The rhythm of the waves and the wishes sort of makes a song.”  Katara tilts her head and smiles at the lights spreading across the sea and sky.

“A song of hope for the future.”

“Exactly.”

Zuko carefully lights the little candles nestled inside the flowers-covered boat, and holds it out for Katara to put her hands on the hull with him.  Together, they set it in the water, Katara gives it a nudge with her bending, and it’s off, bobbing slowly over the waves, heading out towards the vast ocean and the other dancing sparks on the water.  He slips his hand into Katara’s, squeezing her fingers and trading twin smiles before they turn to read the waves, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Ooh here it comes!” Katara says as a rounded ridge of water rushes towards them.  She wracks her brain, scrambling to put words to her hopes and dreams for the next year as the first hints of white foam appear.  It curls and crashes, and as it rushes towards their ankles, she and Zuko leap as one, out of the water, their toes just evading the bubbles.  The instant they splash down again, they say in unison,

“I wish for peace.”  They look to each other, and burst into laughter.

“Maybe the Ember Island Players were a little more accurate than you think,” Zuko teases.

“Oh you’re one to talk.  Not everything is a speech you know,” she shoots back, the edges of it softened by her smile.  He laughs and shakes his head, turning back to look for the next wave, and as the edge of the water sharpens again, they jump.

“I wish for Uncle’s good health,” Zuko says.

“I wish for new benders in my tribe.”

They jump again.

“I wish for another year of Gran-Gran.”

“I wish for my council to cooperate.”

Again.

“I wish for good crops.”

“I wish for light storms.”

Again.

“I wish for adventure.”

“I wish for more sleep.”

Again.

“I wish for my friends to be happy.”

“I wish for you to be happy.”

Again.

“I wish to have all of my family together.”

“I wish for all of my years to start and end with you.”  

Katara freezes, turning to Zuko.  “You…”  She trails off, stunned.  Tries again.  “Are you -”  She cuts herself off, disbelieving.  He pulls her to him, arms wrapping around her. All she can see is his face lit by the shimmering sky.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, hardly above a whisper.  Katara pushes up on her tiptoes and kisses him.  His mouth is sweet from wine and honey-soaked pastries after dinner.  His hair slides through her fingers like silk threads, and she grasps them tightly, lingering against his soft lips and reveling in his warm touch - hers forever now.

“Yes.”

@zkdrabbledecember

[1994sunflower]

a little request for the heaven to you series y/n gets her first tattoo and because micheal’s protective over... maybe you could write a little something about that. 💞

this is a little shorter than usual but it’s just the simple, fluffy thing i think we all need after locked out of heaven. and just so no one gets confused on this or any upcoming one-shots, this does not take place during the locked out of heaven time period.

in which you get your first tattoo

“We can still go home if you want.” Michael said for what felt like the millionth time since he had picked you up from your apartment. His hand was gripping yours tightly as you walked down the familiar street that would eventually lead you to a small tattoo parlor at the corner of the college town.

An amused smile sprung to your face. You leaned your head to his upper arm and wrapped your free hand around his arm in an attempt to calm his nerves. You never would have thought that when you were getting your first tattoo, you’d be the most calm one.

But you should’ve guessed when you told him earlier that week.

“No.” Michael crossed his heaving tattooed arms and the intricate artwork on his neck was exposed to you as he lifted his head up surprise. In fact, this was probably the first time you’d seen him so caught off guard. His eyes had a defiant glint to them, as if daring you to contradict him.

Maybe if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have. But you were his girlfriend and he didn’t scare you. You crossed your own arms. “I’m not asking you, Michael. I’m telling you.”

Michael clenched his jaw, “If I said anything that would make you feel pressured to do this…”

You were standing at the doorway of his room and he was sitting on his bed, fuming like he was having a temper tantrum. It was funny to see, really. Having him completely covered in tattoos yet still trying to talk you down from getting one yourself.

It was amusing so you couldn’t help but giggle as you glided to him, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hip like it was a reflex.

“Don’t worry, I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons.” You touched your nose to him with a reassuring smile. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I wanted you to know.”

“I’m just saying this isn’t something you have to do. Just because it’s my scene doesn’t mean I want it to be yours.” Michael’s hands came up to your hair to play with it.

“It’s not something bad I’m getting into because of you, Mikey. It’s not something like drugs or alcohol, just a small little tattoo.” You tilted your head as you stared into his worried eyes. “And because I know you like them so much, I thought you’d want to be a part of the experience.”

He was still silent under you so you decided to sweeten the deal. “Come on, you don’t think I’ll look hot with a tattoo, even a small one?”

Michael looked away, “Fine. But I’m going with you, just in case.”

You had been surprised he had been so open minded about it. Turned it, he had just thought you’d back out before you actually went through with it.

“I’m fine, Mikey.” You smiled up at him to accentuate just how fine, and frankly excited, you were.

But he didn’t look convinced. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“You don’t even like tattoos, you never seemed interested in them before.”

He was right. You’d never been interested in tattoos. Not only was the pain enough to turn you off from them but there’d just never been anything that you thought was worth putting on your body permanently. But then you met him. And you saw the artwork on his skin. The beautiful intricate works that lined his entire upper body. They were beautiful and for the first time in your life you saw tattoos for what they work, pieces of art. You had a newfound appreciation for them and, after much thought, you knew you wanted one too. A small one but one nonetheless.

“Of course I like tattoos, I love yours. They’re hot.” You ran your finger along his arms, fingers and even neck to prove your point. And you knew getting him just a bit aroused from your touch would help ease his constant chatter. For the first time, you wished he would stop talking. Or at least stop trying to talk you out of it.

And maybe it did and that was why his features softened. “I told you before, I don’t want you doing shit just because I do or because you think I want you to.”

His eyes bored into you as he continued. “Be honest. If you weren’t dating me, would you have ever thought of getting a tattoo?”

You closed your eyes in dread. You knew the answer and you knew it was exactly what Michael didn’t want to hear. “Michael...” You sighed in exasperation, pulling away just slightly thought he never let go of your hand.

But you didn’t even have to say it because your reaction spoke volumes. He scoffed and shook his head. “Exactly. This is what I’ve been saying, you’re getting it because I’m influencing you in a bad way and that’s the last thing I want to do, Y/N.”

Squeezing his arm, you stopped the two of you from walking. The shop was so close you could see the door. You leaned up on your tiptoes and place a chaste kiss on his lips. “I know but trust me, I’m not doing it because you’re ‘influencing’ me or whatever you think. I’ve been wanting it for a while now. And yes it might have something to do with the fact that I’m dating you but it’s only because you showed me a new appreciation for them. It’s a good thing Michael. Think of it as…..you’re inspiring me.”

You could see the wheels turning in Michael’s head, rotating from being supportive to still wanting to keep you as genuine to yourself as possible. But his eventual slow nod but it clear that he had figured out that you weren’t attempting to change to please him, it was something you wanted. You knew if it was something more serious, one of the worser things he did in his personal life like drugs or drinking, he’d push a lot harder and probably wouldn’t even have let you get to this point.

You felt his hand come up and push some of your hair behind your ear. “You know it’s going to hurt, right?” His voice was soft and his eyes worried. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

You sighed dreamily up at him. He wasn’t one to show much emotion so to hear such sweet words leave his mouth was a gift for you. You nodded, reaching up to touch his wrist gently. “I know but I think I can handle it.”

How he could treat you so roughly in bed but act as if you were a fragile little thing everywhere else was beyond you. But you watched as his eyes scanned your face, looking for the slightest hesitancy in your expression before he began leading you again.

“Okay, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Which he was. From the moment you entered the shop, he never wandered off even though you knew by the various designs covering the walls and tables that this was definitely the type of place with the type of art he would love to spend time staring and wandering off in.

You didn’t mean to feel intimidated when you went to the front desk but as the tattooed worker leaned over the counter to stare at you, his eyes raking from your head to toe in a way that made you feel like you stood out very much, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your fingers nervously.

“What do you want?” The tone was bored and dismissive, almost mocking.

It was then that the nerves Michael had felt from the beginning were overtaking you. It wasn’t regret you were feeling but more of a disbelief. You were really doing this. And it didn’t help that the first person to great you wasn’t the nicest.

“Oh..I, um…”

Michael had his arms crossed beside you, his eyes narrow and challenging. With the tattoos lining up his arms and the dangerous aura he exuded, he looked intimidating and confident even in this place that was so out of your comfort zone. But it dawned on you that while this was new territory of you, Michael felt familiar with these dealings, with these surroundings.

“What the fuck does it look like?” The worried and sweet Michael was gone when he dealt with others. The cold, threatening and calculating one took his place.

For once you were glad you brought Michael along. He was protective from the beginning, wanting to make sure he wasn’t corrupting you to the point where you were becoming self destructive, wanting to make sure you were confident about everything you were doing especially since it was permanent. But now being there, he was going to make sure everything went as smoothly as possible for you because he wanted you to be as comfortable and safe as possible. And you loved him for it.

Michael was at your side when you signed the waivers and when you were called in to actually get the tattoo done.

The nervousness made each step feel reflexive, even when you sat down, you weren’t exactly sure you were all there. You weren’t sure if you were more nervous because this was such a new experience or because of the inevitable pain.

You watched as the tattoo artist’s eyes shot from you to the much taller and brooding Michael beside you. You tried not to notice the way his eyebrows shot up at the very obvious mismatch between the two of you. Which was only highlighted with the fact that your outfits displayed just how many (or lack of) tattoos you each had in your collection.

Michael sat next to you as the artist pulled up a stool in front of you. “Where do you want it?”

Raising your hand, you lowered your index finger and rubbed the flat, bare skin of the side of your middle finger. “Right here, please.”

The tattoo artist took your hand in his, one hand holding your wrist and the other tapping where you had indicated. You saw the way Michael silently watched his every move, like a ticking time bomb daring him to do or say the wrong thing for him to explode. “Alright, just to warn you though, that is one of the most painful locations to get a tattoo. Especially for a first tat-”

“I think she gets it.” Michael growled from beside you, snatching your hand from his grasp. “She’s here to get it done not get a fucking lecture.”

“Michael!” You hissed through gritted teeth. A deep blush took over your face as you stared at the artist sheepishly, “I’m so sorry about him.”

The man chuckled nervously but nodded. He stayed silent for the rest of the time. You weren’t really mad at Michael, you knew he was just trying to make sure everything went fine and that you were fine with everything. He didn’t want you to feel more scared than you already were. Even if he didn’t even want you to be doing it in the first place.

You felt Michael’s fierce eyes on you, ready to jump in at any sign of regret or that you may need him. But instead, you just took his big hand in yours and loved the way he immediately squeezed your hand. You felt much more comfortable like that so you never pulled away.

In fact, when the buzzing and pain started, you just squeezed him hard. So hard you almost worried you were hurt him but then you remembered just how small you were compared to him and figured there was likely nothing you could do would hurt him.

Your eyes squeezed shut too, the tattoo was small but the placing was painful. You were letting out whines before you could even help it and the blush on your face was a very big indicator of how embarrassed you were. That tinged in with the pain were an awful combination.

“How about you give her a moment?” Michael’s words sounded sweet but his tone was cold and threatening. It didn’t give the artist much leeway except to just nod and pull away from you.

You could finally breathe and you released a big breath as you glanced down at your finger. It was halfway done, it was small so in just a minute or so much, it should be done. It was funny how all that pain was for just a tattoo that would take about five minutes to do.

But Michael’s eyes didn’t even glance down, no they stayed directly on your face. His hands ran up and down your arm in comfort. “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, “Just hurts a lot.”

And you knew that if Michael could, he’d take away your pain in an instant, he’d even take your place. But there wasn’t much he could do besides nod at the artist that was staring at him for his cue to continue. Even if he was years older than both of you, he couldn’t deny the commanding presence Michael had. And he wouldn’t have risked continuing, putting you in pain, without Michael allowing it.

“It’s almost over.” Michael whispered in your ear as the pain continued, making you squeal painfully. But you breathed through your nose as much as you could and closed your eyes again.

Somehow the dark made it feel a little better. Or at least bearable until the buzzing stopped completely and the sharp stabbing pains did as well. The sting was still there even when you opened your eyes again but you didn’t feel like the room was spinning anymore.

It was done. You had your first tattoo and you had the love of your life beside you.

You only really got a good look at it after you left and got back home. Maybe it was the surreal-ness of it all, that you’d gotten something so permanent, something years ago was never even on your radar. Especially getting it all under 20 minutes. It felt like a rush. A painful one but still.

Michael didn’t let you do anything with your hands: not opening doors, not writing, not even pushing the sidewalk button. Even though you tried to explain to him that only one of your fingers (on one of your hands) was sore, he was adamant.

It wasn’t until he set you down on the kitchen counter (the best lit room in the house) that he finally looked down to your wrapped finger. He was close enough that your faces nearly touched as he moved to stand between your thighs. His hands moving down to squeeze your hips.

“What did you get anyway?” He asked, already picking up your hand and slowly pulling down your index finger so he could see.

You smiled brightly as you moved your finger up to his line of sight. Even sitting at an elevated level, you were still just slightly shorter than him. You watched as his eyes took in the twin angel wings, their white color outlined by the black ink and just a hint of blackness seeping into them, tainting the pureness of them in the prettiest way. It was all very representative. Your heart felt full when his eyes darkened and moved up to meet your eyes.

“Shit.”

You smiled brightly, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. “See, I knew you’d like it.”

The kiss you shared then was slow, languid. One of your hands went to his cheek and his went to your neck, but just barely touched the skin there with the pads of his fingers.  

Michael moved so his face was only a breath away from yours. His eyes were still trailing down to your lips, a smirk playing on his lips. “Liking it was never the issue, little one.”

[pointy-hat-witch]

My gift for @smol-fatale for the @fyeahbnha secret santa event!! I had lots of fun writing it! Hope you enjoy it! I never wrote a ShinKami fic so I hope I did them justice! :)

Title: Hot Stuff Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Word count: 7233 words Summary:  In which Shinsou’s Christmas Miracle happens in form of a broken stove and an electrician.

You can also read it on AO3! :)

Shinsou was, generally speaking, a loner by choice, mind you. He enjoyed his own company, living at his own pace. So, when Midoriya slowly but steadily made himself a presence in his life, he initially didn’t notice. And by the time he did, it was already too late.

Together with Uraraka, Midoriya’s almost-sorta-girlfriend(?), they moved into a three bed-room-apartment rather close to their uni. Every now and then, Shinsou asked himself how it ended up like that but whenever he thought about it, he reached to the conclusion that he didn’t really mind, after all. He found these friends, or rather they found him and now they’re his family.

Well, until moments like these.

Shinsou came home from one of his late lectures, and it was already dark outside which was no surprise for mid-december anyway. Because he was hungry, the lecture dragged on as it was and his last meal had been some time ago, he just wanted to fix himself a fast meal and watch a movie before passing out.

So, when he came home he first noticed the silence, the eerie silence. After around a year and half living with friends, he was fluent in reading the atmosphere, that was why he knew something was up. He was certain that Midoriya and Uraraka should be home already and that they hadn’t anything planned for tonight.

“Hello?” He patiently half-shouted into their apartment from their entry hall as he slipped out of his shoes. There was a shuffle in the kitchen and some muffled voices. Something was definitely amiss. Shinsou sighed.

Preparing himself mentally, he left his bag where it was, put on his slippers and slowly made his way toward the kitchen. He didn’t sneak up or anything but when he appeared in the door, both Uraraka and Midoriya jumped up as if he was Satan himself. They pressed their shoulders together, standing as rigid as humanly possible and their faces, hh god, Shinsou would have cracked at least a smile if his gut didn’t say something was awfully wrong.

“W-w-w-what’s up, Shinsou? Home already, huh? Kinda thought you would have come a little later, like you know, you could have gotten a coffee because it’s so late and you would have taken a bus later or even walked, so we didn’t really thought you would be-“ Midoriya continued babbling but Shinsou already zoned out, staring neutrally over to Uraraka.

And, oh, Uraraka. “Why on earth don’t you breathe?” Shinsou interrupted Midoriya as he slowly squinted at her round cheeks, her eyes almost bulging out.

“Baaaah!“ Uraraka pushed out all of her breath she held in and then took a deep breath afterward.

“Sorry, ahhh,” she whined, fanning herself, “I was getting so nauseous and just had to.”

“Why did you feel nauseous?” Shinsou’s voice cut through the air that was as thick as butter.

“Uhhhh,” Midoriya and Uraraka looked at each other in panic but after a couple of silent seconds exhaled defeatedly. Whatever it was, they couldn’t keep him in the dark forever. They each took a step to the side, moving away from each other to show him the disaster.

“What am I looking at, guys?” Shinsou asked, fully aware of what he was looking at. But he needed them to say it.

“We, uh,” Uraraka gesticulated wildly without saying anything, looking at every possible thing in the room except Shinsou and that. Shinsou’s gaze wandered over to Midoriya who’s shoulders were perched up, elbows close to his body while mumbling inconceivable into one of his hands.

“Guys.” Shinsou sighed. “Just, what happened?”

“We wanted to make dinner,” Uraraka whined, “for you, you know? Mondays are bad as they are and you have a full day of classes so we thought we could, uh, make you dinner.”

Midoriya nodded, his hair bobbing with the motion. “And we just got started, like prepping and we needed flour for the batter and it-“

“It just,” Uraraka threw her arms in the air, “the glass container just slipped through my fingers.”

“And fell on the stove.”

“And fell on the stove.”

“And fell on the stove.” Shinsou mumbled, nodding solemnly. Yeah, this was his chosen family. Smashing their ceramic stove plate with a glass of flour. He stared at the abomination. The cupboard right next to the stove was a little higher than usual, so Uraraka had probably stood on her toes to reach the glass and it must have bounced off her arm right in the middle of the stove plate, smashing it into pieces. Everywhere black shards. Leaving the stove irreparable.

“Did you get hurt?” Shinsou asked as he kneeled down to pick up some of the bigger pieces.

“No!” They both shook their heads.

“Then that’s all that matters.” Complaining about spilled milk wouldn’t do neither of them any good. He knew it was an accident, shit happens.

“We’re sorry, Shinsou.”

Shinsou blinked and looked up. Both Uraraka and Midoriya looked at the floor, Uraraka fighting off tears and Midoriya balling his hands into fists.

Yeah, those were his family. If he would have been still with his blood relatives they- no. Shinsou didn’t think about that anymore.

Shinsou shook his head, almost smiling fondly. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t get hurt, so it doesn’t matter. We can just order food.”

Averting another disaster, as Uraraka and Midoriya looked like they wanted to jump on him to smother him with their affection, Shinsou got them to help him clean up the kitchen, before they ordered food, which his friends paid for, and watched a movie until he passed out.

He woke up the next morning with his blanket thrown over him and he indulged himself for another five minutes, snuggling into the heavy blanket. But, alas, even though he only had two classes in the afternoon, he had some homework from the day before, so he had to get up eventually. And the earlier the better.

When he got up, he noticed a small piece of paper on the couch table with his name neatly written on.

Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

 “Dear Shinsou,

we hope you slept well. You looked like you were dead at least.. Sorry again for the stove. Please call the landlord about it. He likes you.

Love,

Your besties!!”

 Shinsou couldn’t decide whom of them he wanted to strangle first. Letting out a silent groan, Shinsou let himself fall back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Today was an even more low energy day than usual, so the thought about calling someone was already taking a toll on him.

They all knew, Aizawa wouldn’t yell at them or anything. He was the best landlord you could get, honestly. Not they often, say, smash their stove plate but if they needed anything done in their apartment he would get it done in a few days. Sometimes, he even just came over to talk and check in if they’re alright, studying and working and all that.

And Shinsou and he may or may not clicked right from the start. They both were low-tension, didn’t talk around the bush and didn’t need to tiptoe around each other. If he could choose, Shinsou kind of wanted to have him as a dad. But that was something he would ever say out loud.

Still, why he needed to call him was beyond him. 

He searched around for his phone blindly, not bothering looking away from the ceiling. When he finally found it, his finger scrolled through his contacts, their landlord a commonly called number. Shinsou sighed. He dialed.

“What did they do now?” Aizawa’s voice was gruff, probably only just gotten out of bed himself, for what Shinsou felt a little guilty. They both didn’t like talking on the phone, but both his roommates and his spouse were notorious in getting them to do it.

“They broke the stove plate.” He cut right to the chase.

“They did what now?”

“Dropped a glass on it. Smashed it.”

“They smashed the-,” Aizawa mumbled in disbelief to himself.

“Do you have an electrician or a company you use for stuff like that? I can call them. And we pay, of course. Our fault.”

“Their fault,” Aizawa pointed out, “but yeah. I know someone. I’ll give them a call.”

They agreed that the electrician either comes until 1 pm or the next day in the evening and their call ended. As short as it was and for some may sound a little standoff-ish, Shinsou liked those calls the most. They weren’t as dreadful as those where he had to make small talk and offend the other person by not being the friendliest customer or something.

When he finally was done with that, he fixed himself a bowl of cereal and then sat down on his desk to get some work done before heading off to uni.

When the doorbell rang, Shinsou almost flinched, hunched over his notes about commonly known phobias. Geez. He rubbed his face as he stumbled over to the door, not thinking twice about making himself any more presentable. He, first of all, didn’t give a flying fuck about what an electrician would think about him, and secondly, it was a apartment with three students, what could anyone expect?

What he didn’t expect, was to look into the bright face of someone his age, grinning around a lollipop.

“Yo!” He almost shouted, as he pushed up his cap a little, grinning around his lollipop even wider.

“Hi.” Shinsou answered in the most monotonous voice he could muster but it didn’t deter the other to smile any less.

“I heard you have a broken stove.”

“Yeah.” He stepped aside, letting the guy inside. “First door to the right.”

“Gotcha!” He nodded, pulling his feet out of his shoes. “Oh, I’m Kaminari, by the way.”

“Uh-huh.” Shinsou wasn’t sure how to handle this ball of energy. Literally. When the electrician took his cap off, clipping it to his belt, his yellow hair showed a black streak in his fringe which resembled a flash of lighting. His steps had a little spring to them, his fingers kept tapping to some rhythm, his eyes darting around. And Shinsou only knew this guy for about ten seconds.

“Oh.” Kaminari said as he entered the kitchen. “Well, yeah, that is fucked. In my professional opinion, of course.” He threw his head back and laughed. He fucking laughed at his own joke. “How in god’s name did you do that, man?” Kaminari walked up to the smashed stove plate, without the glass shards mind you, looking at it in fascination.

“My roommates dropped a glass on it.” Shinsou crossed his arms lazily, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “What can you do about it?”

“That sounds like your roommates are a blast!” He laughed again, pushing his lollipop around in his mouth. “Well, I am great at my job but that,” he pointed at the broken ceramic plate, “even I can’t fix that. Got to get you a new one.”

“Figured as much.” Shinsou groaned. “How long will that take?”

“Not that long,” Kaminari mused, pulling out a folding rule. “Oh, did you take out the fuse?”

“Huh?”

Kaminari laughed, again. “That answers it, hehe. Where is your fuse box?” Though Kaminari laughed again and again and kept a lazy smile on his lips, Shinsou never felt that he laughed at him, he just was … amused. And it kinda made it easier to talk to him.

“Over there,” Shinsou pointed back to the entrance hall, next to the small coat rack.

“Gotcha!” Kaminari hopped over to it, with one look flipped one of the like fifty switches, which Shinsou had only a very, very general idea for what they were, and danced back into the kitchen.

“Didn’t plan on getting fried by a smashed stove today!” He winked at Shinsou as he laid down his folding rule to measure the plate.

Shinsou was frozen on the spot. Did he just wink at him? Was he … no. He was just like that, that wasn’t anything weird, was it?

“Alrighty,” Kaminari mumbled around his lollipop, writing some numbers on his notepad that he pushed back into one of his numerous pockets. “It’s a standard stove plate, so nothing hard to get by. I would say tomorrow, the day after tomorrow the latest I can install the new one. Does one of the days work better for you?”

Shinsou blinked himself out of his own stupor, mentally going through his schedule. “I could do tomorrow evening or the evening after that.”

“Tomorrow it is then!” Kaminari smiled around his now almost vanished lollipop. “Uh, can I have your phone number? Just in case, it doesn’t work out for whatever reason, you know?”

“Sure.” Shinsou nodded, rattling off his number. Kaminari typed at his phone, throwing Shinsou a quick glance, clearing his throat.

“And, uh, I didn’t catch your name?”

There was a beat silence, before Shinsou answered slowly.

“Shinsou Hitoshi. Got it.” Kaminari smiled. His fingers fished out another lollipop, unwrapping it so fast Shinsou has never seen anyone do it before and popping it into his mouth. The other stick wandered into a small container with at least five other empty sticks. Uh, okay.

“Well then, Shinsou,” Kaminari said in his usual loud voice, Shinsou just figured out, “see you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Shinsou nodded as Kaminari slipped back into his shoes and then was out the door after a short wave.

Shinsou didn’t know how long he stood in the entrance hall after Kaminari left. It was kinda like a storm passing by and Shinsou had to process what just happened. Like, nothing bad happened, Kaminari did his job, was friendly, professional. But… but why did it feel like there so much more that happened?

Shinsou shook his head. It was just their wavelengths that were way off and it just was too much all of the sudden, Shinsou figured. Though, if Kaminari felt like so high tension and brimming with energy, why didn’t Shinsou feel drained in the least?

---

Since he only had morning classes, Shinsou spent the afternoon with his roommates. They brought some takeout with them on their way home, so they had some warm food at least. Shinsou was appreciative of them buying all the food, college students being notoriously broke as they were, though it didn’t come up yet, Shinsou planned to chip in with the repair costs, of course. They’re his closest friends after all.

Of course they did speak about the short visit of the electrician and in hindsight, Shinsou ought to know better, but he brought up the topic just to inform them. But he must have slipped in something of the sort that he felt weirdly calm around this energetic guy, because they both brought up sudden plans right after.

So, when 7 p.m. rolled around, he was all alone in the apartment again. And his heart was weirdly pounding in his chest. That was why he literally flinched when his phone rang on full blast. He forgot to put his volume back down after watching a cat video because who the fuck did call anybody these days?

The number was unknown and everything in him screamed to just not pick up. But then his finger was already sliding the “accept” button to the side.

“Shinsou speaking.” He pinched his nose, already berating himself for getting on the phone with a stranger.

“Ah! Hey, Shinsou! It’s Kaminari! The electrician? From yesterday. Because of the stove?” Kaminari’s voice was even louder through the phone, practically screaming in his ear and Shinsou had to hold his phone away before turning down the output volume.

“Yeah, Kaminari. I remember. What’s up?” Shinsou licked his lips, his mouth gone dry all of the sudden.

“I just wanted to check in, if I can come in around half an hour?” There was some traffic noise in the background, he probably just finished up his last customer.

“Yeah, half an hour. I’m here.”

“Perfect! Then I’m just gonna pick up your wonderful new stove plate and come right over!”

“Great.”

Kaminari chuckled and Shinsou’s skin prickled. It even sounded like he had yet another lollipop between his lips, clacking occasionally against his teeth.

“See you soon, Shinsou!” Kaminari hung up before Shinsou could even say anything. He let his phone fall out of his hand on the couch, pressing his hands against his face as he leaned back. What was going on with him? He … was looking forward to seeing Kaminari again? What in the ever loving fuck?

The next half hour went by agonizingly slowly since Shinsou looked at his phone every other minute, both to check the time but also, and he would never admit to it, maybe getting another call from the electrician.

When it (finally) rang at the door, Shinsou had to force himself not to run to the door. Purposefully slowly he opened the door to Kaminari leaning against the stove plate, properly secured in Styrofoam.

“Hey,” he grinned around his lollipop, “I chose the best stove for you!”

“Tha-“

“Out of a range of options!” Kaminari proceeded to put his hands up, motioning finger guns, while winking at Shinsou. And then snorted with laughter himself.

Shinsou didn’t know what did it for him. The absolute absurdity of the situation, the worst pun he ever heard, or Kaminari laughing at his own joke. Maybe all together. But he had to turn his head to the side and snort behind his hand.

“I saw that!” Kaminari yowled, high fiving himself. “Still got it!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Shinsou asked in the least serious way possible.

“Come on! That was funny!” Kaminari grinned, pulling off his shoes as he more or less invited himself in. Well, Shinsou did step aside to let him in anyway.

“It wasn’t really.” He shook his head, hands pushed inside his pockets as he didn’t know what to do with them.

“But you laughed!” Kaminari exclaimed, carrying the stove plate that looked like it weighted nothing in his arms over to the kitchen.

“I laughed because it was stupid.”

“Whatever the reason, I made you laugh!” Kaminari threw a quick glance over his shoulder at him, before putting the stove plate down right in front of the destroyed one.

“You didn’t turn on the fuse again, did you?”

Shinsou shook his head. “Why would we? I think you were the first one to ever touch that box in this household to begin with.”

That made Kaminari throw his head back with laughter. Why, Shinsou didn’t know but it made him feel warm that something he said made Kaminari laugh so earnestly.

“Are your roommates ever home?” Kaminari opened the cupboard underneath the broken stove plate, getting his flashlight to look at the high-tension socket. “Or just to break your stuff?”

Shinsou could see Kaminari’s shoulders tremble as he suppressed his laughter. Taking a deep breath and exhaling silently through his mouth, Shinsou leaned against the doorframe.

“They had some plans. Suddenly,” he added under his breath, shaking his head. “We do lots of stove together, don’t worry. They’re great friends.”

Kaminari’s whole body shook, giggling silently. He pulled out a small screwdriver and undid the lid of the outlet.  There were a couple of silent seconds as Kaminari carefully pulled out the few wires, before coming up again.

“Wanna give me a hand?” He grinned, setting the flashlight to the side, still kneeling on the ground.

“And doing your job without getting paid?” Shinsou answered but stepped up next to the other regardless.

“Ha, you wish!” Kaminari pushed his lollipop around in his mouth, grinning widely. “Okay, just lift the plate when I push it up.”

“And I won’t get electrocuted for sure?”

“Alas, I’m too good at my job for this to happen. An unfortunate circumstance of being gorgeous and talented.” Kaminari shrugged, shaking his head with a mock devastated expression. Shinsou snorted against his better judgment and didn’t acknowledge the knowing grin from Kaminari.

The plate lifted up a few centimeters as Kaminari pushed it from below and Shinsou grabbed it around the edges, raising it up a little higher. It was, indeed, lighter than he thought.

“Great, thanks.” Kaminari stood up and took it off Shinsou’s hands, standing so close to him he could smell the strawberry scented lollipop through his lips. Kaminari put the broken plate flat on the ground, so as to not let any loose shards fall off. Shinsou stepped back to the side when Kaminari lifted up the other stove plate, put it into its designated place and was back on his knees within seconds. Talk about efficiency.

Another few hand movements and the wires were back in place, the lid was screwed back on the socket and Kaminari stood back up.

“Done and done. Just a last check.” He jogged out of the kitchen and Shinsou was surprised that he still knew where the fuse box was. He heard the switch being flipped and then Kaminari was jogging back in.

“Moment of truth.”

Kaminari turned one of the four knobs on the stove plate and with a silent electric vibration one of the four panels slowly turned red. Kaminari grinned self-satisfied and turned it off again.

“Perfect. Everything as it should be?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” Shinsou nodded, a little impressed. That wasn’t complicated in the least and didn’t take as much time as he thought. Probably a lot more expensive than expected, though.

“Great, then I just need you to,” Kaminari fumbled through his pockets to pull out some piece of paper, “sign these papers off. To accept the repair and that stuff.” Kaminari tapped on some boxes Shinsou had to tick and the line he had to sign on.

“Yeah, sure.” Shinsou accepted the pen Kaminari pulled out of another pocket. For a second Shinsou skimmed over the paper, just to be totally sure he wasn’t in some kind of high caliber scam or something but everything seemed to be in order, so he signed it.

“Then we’re done here.” Kaminari folded the paper back into his pocket and saluted Shinsou lazily. “My pleasure.”

“Uh, sure.” Shinsou’s thoughts came to a screeching stop as he realized that Kaminari was about to leave. Like, for good. And somehow it made him anxious. He didn’t want him to leave, instead he wants to hear more bad puns and his contagious laughter.

“Have a nice holiday!” Kaminari crunched the last bit of his lollipop and waved.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. You, too. Don’t get electrocuted by another smashed stove. Or something.” Shinsou pulled at one strand of his hair, unsure where to look.

“I’ll be careful!” Kaminari laughed, popping in another lollipop. “Well, then. See you, hot stove,” Kaminari winked and was out of the door. Leaving Shinsou staring at the closed door.

What the fuck?

---

It didn’t help at all, that Uraraka was literally rolling on the carpet in the living room and Midoriya’s shoulders shook while making a face as to no burst out laughing, when Shinsou told them about his second encounter with the electrician. He never regretted moving in with them more than in that moment.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Midoriya held a finger up before covering his mouth, mumbling something Shinsou didn’t quite get. Uraraka sat up, wiping away the tears that kept on rolling over her cheeks.

“So, what if,” Midoriya looked between them back and forth, “the lollipop was a metaphor all along?”

Uraraka shrieked and fell back down, holding her stomach from laughing so hard. And Shinsou stared outside the window, wishing he was somewhere else but here.

“But jokes aside,” Uraraka said from the floor, spread like a starfish, “you gonna text him or something? Like, you both pretty much find each other … likeable.” They both burst into a small fit of laughter.

Shinsou shook his head. “Why would I?” he sighed. “Sure, mayyyybe,” he fixed them both with a glare and they pressed their lips together, “we kinda sort of found each other tolerable, but,” he leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms, “he just did his job and maybe that’s just his way to talk to customers.”

“Whatever you say, hot stove,” Midoriya snorted.

And if Shinsou threw them both out with a hearty kick in the ass, he would pledge self-defense for his mentality.

---

It wasn’t that Shinsou not thought about maybe texting Kaminari after all since he had his number after he called him. But it didn’t feel right to text him on his work phone just because he felt like his social anxiety wasn’t as bad with his electrician than with everybody else. What kind of reason is that? And then he got flooded with assignments for almost all of his classes due before the Christmas holidays and it kind of slipped his mind.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Shinsou said goodbye to Uraraka and Midoriya who both had promised their respective families to celebrate with them. They were home almost never already, that’s why they had these fixed days they just had to come home. And Shinsou felt warmed to the core, when they tried to get out of it to spend Christmas with him.

It was no secret that Shinsou would spend Christmas alone and he honestly didn’t mind. Christmas wasn’t a holiday he celebrated in the first place but just knowing everyone spent it with people they love sometimes can be pretty lonely. And spending these days with his blood rela- no, he didn’t even finish that thought. He rather felt like the loneliest person on earth than to spend Christmas with them.

So, he had to give his friends a crushing hug, reassuring them that he really didn’t mind, and he would text them as soon as something came up. It still didn’t make them stop crying, even when they were out the door and he waved at them until they were around the corner of the hallway.

His friends were the best.

The plan was to write a little bit on his paper about the impact of forced interaction because of holidays with family members and then watch a movie and order take out. Even if the stove was working again, it didn’t mean he had to use it.

When the doorbell rang at around noon, Shinsou looked up in confusion. He didn’t order anything yet, did he? He stumbled a few meters as his legs had fallen asleep sitting cross-legged for the past hours on the ground in front of the coffee table.

When he opened the door, it was his landlord Aizawa standing in front of him.

“Uh, hi?” Shinsou blinked, mentally going through anything that could have prompted his landlord to show up. They always paid in time, he wasn’t even remotely too loud to bother his neighbors, there was nothing leaking in the apartment…

“For you,” Aizawa held up a plastic bag, a food container shimmering through the almost transparent fabric. “Hizashi cooked a little too much. And we didn’t want it to get to waste.”

Shinsou looked at the bag and back at Aizawa’s tired face. He didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the floor.

“But your husb-,” Shinsou started but shut himself up. Aizawa’s eyebrow twitched up, but didn’t say anything as Shinsou took the plastic bag.

“Thank you, Aizawa.” Shinsou took a quick glance inside, but couldn’t make out anything specific.

“Merry Christmas, Shinsou,” Aizawa pulled up his scarf and nodded. “If you need anything, just give me a call.”

“Thanks, I will. And merry Christmas to you and Yamada, too.” Shinsou answered, raising his hand in a small wave. He looked after Aizawa’s back until he reached the staircase, where his landlord raised his hand one last time without looking back.

Shinsou went back inside and closed the door before leaning against it. He rubbed at his eye with the ball of his hand, squinting against the tear ducts that threaten to open up. Damn. he didn’t need to be around people to know he was loved so dearly.

But he for sure sent Uraraka and Midoriya a text message for snitching to their landlord that he’ll be home alone. But he also thanked them. And then send them a picture with the food container to make them jealous because they all knew what a great cook Aizawa’s husband was.

Taking a deep breath, willing his eyes to stay dry, Shinsou decided it was time for a break anyway. In the kitchen Shinsou turned on the rice cooker and then took a look at the food container. It was still a little warm and just smelled heavenly. Shinsou seemed to be in luck to get a taste of Yamada’s curry to which his growling stomach agreed.

He put the curry into a pot to reheat it, turned the stove on low heat and walked back to the living room to make some room to eat. It didn’t even take him five minutes when walked back into the kitchen, not even being able to wait twenty minutes, he tried to reason with himself if he even needed rice or could eat it crunchy and call it fried rice for a split second, as he stirred the curry.

Though … it didn’t smell any different, like it didn’t unfold its whole flavor when getting heated up. Shinsou dipped his finger into the curry to feel that it had cooled down even more. Blinking, he pushed the pot aside, hovering his hand over the stove plate to feel no heat at all. He turned the knob to the highest number, but the panel didn’t turn red at all, let alone get warm.

This just couldn’t be happening. Shinsou counted to ten inside his head, before turning the stove and the rice cooker off for good. His next action was to look up the landline of the company that had sent him the electrician that was “alas, too good at his job” and hoped they were still open.

Luck was on his side for that matter at least, since the call connected. The free-line signal went on for an alarming long time until someone picked up. A gruff voice answered, sounding like they had their fair share of annoying customers on Christmas Eve already. After getting through the greetings, Shinsou went right to the point. He didn’t brag about being the perfect customer, he was polite, for sure, but he didn’t suck up to them.

“The stove plate one of your electricians installed last week doesn’t work anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he didn’t sound genuine at all, but Shinsou didn’t care. He just needed someone to fix it. “We have someone for emergencies on duty today. As soon as he is done with his current assignment, I’ll send him over. That okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Great. Bye.” And he hung up.

Shinsou exhaled hard, nibbling at his lower lip. What now? Kicking his heels for between half an hour to five hours for someone to come? Working on his paper some more? Order some food already, maybe ruining his appetite?

After an hour he spent playing random games on his phone, upside down on the couch, the doorbell rang yet again this day. It didn’t make Shinsou any less anxious answering the door, though, even if he knew who it would be.

Kaminari stood at the door, cheeks slightly red, his chest rising and falling heavy, almost as if he hurried over here. Shinsou decided to ignore that for his own good.

“Yo!” Kaminari grinned, this time pulling out the lollipop and bowed slightly with his cap pulled off. “I’m terribly sorry about that mistake.”

“Uh,” Shinsou blinked. He didn’t expect such a sincere apology. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get something to eat, you know?”

“Yeah, totally!” Kaminari was back grinning at him and walked in as if it was already his own home. And Shinsou honestly didn’t mind. He even opened the fuse box to flip the switch for the high-tension outlet on his way as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“Your friends coming home for dinner, then?” Kaminari asked as he entered the kitchen, Shinsou slowly following him.

“Nah,” he tilted his head, one hand on his neck. “They spend Christmas with their family.”

“Huh?” Kaminari was already kneeling in front of the counter, looking over his shoulder like a lost puppy. “What about you? Does your family not meet up on Christmas Eve?”

Shinsou clenched his jaw, scratching his neck. “No.”

Even if he found Kaminari sympathetic and maybe even liked him a little bit, he still was a stranger and he didn’t need to tell him about any potential tragic backstory. And fortunately, Kaminari seemed to get the hint.

“Gotcha.” Kaminari pulled out his flashlight, leaning inside the cupboard. “I’m gonna spend Christmas Eve alone, too, you know? Though, some friends come over tomorrow evening.”

Shinsou blinked. “Uh-huh. So… what are you gonna do tonight?”

Kaminari had the audacity to lean back on his heels, looking over his shoulder with a smug grin. “What? You gonna ask me out on Christmas after meeting like three times? Shinsou,” he shook his head, “I’m on the clock, you know?”

Shinsou was speechless. Before he could even say anything, Kaminari leaned back under and this time opened up a small panel on the downside of the stove plate.

“Cat got your tongue?” Kaminari asked from inside, not sounding any less smug than before.

“Does your small talk always end up in something romantically and/or sexually implied?”

Kaminari looked, once again over his shoulder, pulling out his lollipop while smacking his lips lewdly. “I don’t know, does it?”

“Goddamnit.” Shinsou mumbled under his breath. Both done and frustratingly smitten with Kaminari. The offending electrician giggled before closing the panel and coming back to his feet again.

“The wire was a little loose, no big deal.” He said, back to his usual voice. “Should be no problems from here on out.”

“That’s what you said the last time.”

“Oh, did I?” Kaminari squinted at the ceiling as if to underline how hard he was thinking back to it. “Can’t remember.” He finally said, shaking his head.

“But now you really don’t have to worry about anything at all anymore.” He pushed his flashlight and screwdriver back into his pockets, unclipping his cap and putting it back on his head.

Shinsou nodded, scrunching up his face in annoyance or disappointed, he didn’t know either.

“Hey, Shinsou?” Kaminari asked around his lollipop as he put on his shoes.

“What?”

“My shift ends at around eight. Give or take half an hour depending on my last assignment.”

“And?” Shinsou raised both his eyebrows, playing nervously with the small hair at his neck.

“Well,” Kaminari chuckled but it was dry, not with its usual lightness, “I just… fuck.” He whispered to himself.

“What, Kaminari?” Shinsou pushed, his voice steadier than he would have thought with his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

“I just thought, you’re alone on Christmas Eve, I’m alone on Christmas Eve,” Kaminari rattled on, not looking back at him, “and I just, you know, I just thought it would be nice to spend it with someone. Who was funny. Or something. You know?”

Shinsou stepped a little closer, seeing that Kaminari’s neck turned bright red and Shinsou had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. Fuck, indeed.

“You like Chinese food?”

“Huh?” Kaminari turned around half way this time, his cheeks still a little red.

“When you come over, bring Chinese Food. Or Indian. I’m not picky.” Shinsou mumbled, suddenly unsure of what to do or say, kicking at nothing. But he didn’t miss Kaminari’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

“Chinese sounds awesome!” Kaminari stood up, suddenly in a hurry. “I’m gonna call you when I’m on the way! See you later, Shinsou!” He shouted as he ran out the apartment, not even bothering to close the door.

The next few hours Shinsou tried to concentrate on writing his paper, failing miserably. He ate some of the curry from Yamada and Aizawa and it was as good as expected but Shinsou found himself looking more forward to the Chinese Takeout. Or the company with it. So, he only ate half of it and put the other half in the fridge for tomorrow.

He ended up looking at his phone every other minute, writing a sentence, then looking at it again. It goes without saying, but he didn’t get any real work done and he knew he had to revise everything he wrote on the last page.

The doorbell rang for the third time this day but Shinsou’s gut didn’t do its usual gymnastic exercises and before he knew, he was already in the entrance hall, opening up. Kaminari changed out of his work jumpsuit into his casual clothes. A thick coat with a dark purple scarf and hat buried him almost completely. His nose was a little red from the cold as he was overall dusted in light snow. But his smile was wide and seemed to melt the snow and cold away.

“Delivery!” It was almost unsettling that there was no lollipop in his mouth this time and Shinsou could actually see the wide grin, showing off immaculate white teeth.

“Come in.” Shinsou tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, only being betrayed by his trembling hands.

Kaminari stepped in, slipping out of his shoes without untying them, threw his coat with his scarf and hat over the wardrobe and just walked up to the living room. Shinsou followed close by, clenching and unclenching his hands to keep them from shaking.

“Wait a sec,” Shinsou pulled his laptop and books to the side, putting them under the coffee table for now. Kaminari put down the plastic bag with various containers.

“I hope I chose right,” he chuckled as he unpacked everything.

“I think you don’t have to worry about that.” Shinsou hummed as he stared at the various containers, kind of a little bit of everything. Fried rice, fried noodles, chicken, duck, wontons, fried vegetables, to name the usual suspects.

“I just wasn’t sure, you know, what you preferred,” Kaminari sounded genuinely worried, scratching his cheek as his eyes hopped from container to container. And that’s when Shinsou noticed how Kaminari’s hands were fidgeting around, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt, his foot tapping silently on the carpet, shifting his weight from one side to the other.

“Sit down,” Shinsou motioned on the ground. “Be right back.” Coming back from the kitchen, Shinsou put down two glasses and a bottle of soda on the table, before sitting down next to Kaminari, who put down his phone as he came back.

Shinsou turned around to pull down his weighted blanket, holding it up to Kaminari. “You want some?”

“Oh!” Kaminari’s face lit up. “Is that one of those weighted ones?!” Before Shinsou could even nod, Kaminari grabbed at it and weighted it with his hands.

“This feels so strange!” He giggled. Shinsou shook his head almost fondly, taking the blanket back from Kaminari’s hands and putting it over their shoulders.

“Sorry, it’s a little small so we need to-“ – “No problem.” Kaminari interrupted him as he scooted closer, grinning from ear to ear. Shinsou swallowed. The blanket had a nice weight to it on his shoulders, grounding him a little and steading his pulse almost instantly. With a glance to the side, Shinsou saw Kaminari sitting with his eyes closed, slowly breathing through his nose.

“I really need to get one of those for myself,” he hummed, smiling up to Shinsou with his eyes only half open.

“It’s Christmas, after all,” Shinsou said lamely, looking away since Kaminari’s relaxed face did things to his heart he didn’t know was possible, “you just wish for it.”

“Mhm, from you?”  

“You wish.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.”

Shinsou snorted, shaking his head once again. He just couldn’t keep up with Kaminari.

They started to eat, trying everything before settling on some things just one of them liked and sharing other stuff. It was rather silent at first until Kaminari just started to talk about some of his customers, how just absolutely horrible some people can be. And some just unbelievable stupid. At one point he talked about a job where he had to replace a smashed stove for what Shinsou shoved him in the face.

Somehow over the course of their dinner, they scooted even closer, their arms almost touching constantly and Shinsou only ever realized that when Kaminari laughed at one of his anecdotes about Midoriya (he cracked a bowl with milk and cereal already inside and slurping it as fast as possible, so it didn’t spill) and he buried his face in Shinsou’s shoulder, his whole body shaking.  

He had to turn his face away, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. When Kaminari lifted his face up again and didn’t say anything, Shinsou could practically feel his eyes on him, looking through him.

“Hey.” Kaminari’s voice was quiet in contrast to before.

“What.” Shinsou mumbled, not trusting his face to be a normal color again.

“What if I tell you,” he heard Kaminari swallow, “that your stove stopping to work wasn’t a mistake?”

Shinsou felt all his reservation leaving him with a heavy sigh. He turned back toward Kaminari who looked at him with wide eyes, an unsure smile on his lips.

“You win, Kaminari.” Shinsou watched as Kaminari’s eyes squinted at him, thinking about what he meant. So, Shinsou made it a little easier for him.

He raised both his hands to Kaminari’s face, cupping his cheeks and caressing them with his thumbs. Feeling the skin under his hands turn hot and red, and seeing Kaminari’s lips part in surprise, Shinsou was this close to just getting up and leaving his own apartment. This was taking years off of his life.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Any objections?” Shinsou half-whispered, not trusting his own voice.

Kaminari shook his head in between his hands and that was all he needed to know. Shinsou leaned in, guiding their lips together. Both their lips were greasy from the food, tasting like the last dish the other ate, and so unbelievably warm.

Kaminari let out a quiet sigh, leaning closer and Shinsou felt his hands starting to tremble again. But then Kaminari’s hands were on top of his own, squeezing them reassuringly to calm him down. And it helped. Shinsou let out his breath he didn’t realize he was holding in through his nose, holding the kiss for a couple of seconds longer before slowly breaking apart.

“I think I just short-circuited.” Kaminari mumbled, snorting at his own joke.

“You say that as if you don’t have any wires loose anyway.”

“Wow, that was bad,” he snorted again.

“But you laughed.”

“Because it was so bad!”

“Just shut up.”

“Make me.” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows, trying to hold back a grin.

“And that wasn’t bad?”

“Shinsouuuu,” Kaminari whined mockingly, so naturally Shinsou let him suffer for a couple of seconds longer before he leaned back in again himself.

[volgdemagischewinx]

Oh no by all means grouch it's great for soul and body, honest!

I'm also sad you seem to have to tiptoe around the stuff because like, you not enjoying something doesn't take away joy from the person for whom it is special? It's 100% fine to say you don't like something.

To me it's not so much that they're all paired off, and the whole thing where the male and female friend group match perfectly thing could even be developed for a comedy aspect. But more weird to me is that they all RIGHT away were paired off. Like, right at the beginning of season 1 you could tell who ends up with who and I feel that there was no friendship between them first, they all jumped right into the "talking with expectations" stage.

I do think a reboot could use more variety though. And AT LEAST they could avoid the complete boomer ending for them all, for an example, my HC is that Riven had small pox when he was a kid and he can't have kids with a girl because of that. So he and Musa are a straight couple, HS sweethearts, but they're childfree- and it is not a cliche scenario where the man is presented to high heavens as oh so noble to stay with an infertile girl. You know, stuff like that.

Do you have any lgbt ships? I don't like Blicy much because I think Bloom can do better, but I love Mirta and Lucy. I kinda see Riven have a crush on Helia, so that AU works for me too.

Haha yeah, it's partially cause I really prefer to keep this blog a positive space, but also I kind of have this irrational fear that if I say the wrong thing I'll either really hurt someone's feelings, get people to hate me, or both😅. Anxiety thing. Trying to work on that

Anyway when it comes to fandom stuff and ship stuff specifically. It's something that can cause people to get real heated real fast. The Winx fandom is pretty chill in that area, there's a few unpopular ships, but I think we mostly just respect everything. I don't wanna be the person to rock that boat. And I have also been on the other side of things where it seemed impossible to just enjoy the canon ship because people would spread their bitterness everywhere they could

So you know it's kinda like toeing this line between "I don't wanna be the bitter person sucking the fun out of things that bring people joy" and "I don't wanna pretend to never be bothered by heteronormativity in media, or feign interest in things I just don't care about" Still working on the right balance there😂 And with all that in mind I'm just gonna put the rest of the answer under the cut so folks can more easily skip any negativity

Yeah, I've mentioned it in passing before but the romantic development in Winx is non-existent lmao. I don't mind it too much because it just drives home how little importance was placed on the romance/male characters, you know? But it does contribute to my lack of investment in the ships and why I'm so callous about the option of them not carrying over in modern versions

Agreed! I already hate the way they're all paired off in the show, a babies ever after for everyone on top of that would just be nauseating. And I could easily see Riven and Musa not having kids, along with the other things you said

I do, but I mostly try to keep the idea of wanting better(or any) queer rep separate from what ships I like. A lot of fans don't do that and that's how you get fucking Robin coming out of the closet and some people still being salty because he's not dating the guy they ship him with lmao. Provided it was done well, I would not be picky about what ships were used for rep so long as it was there

Agreed on Blicy. I get why it’s popular, but I've never seen anything romantic or compelling about their dynamic myself, and I tend to not be drawn towards villain ships in general. For Bloom I obviously really adore BloomxStella, and while I wouldn't say I ship it, I think the potential is there for BloomxDiapro if the latter was written differently

I also like MirtaxLucy and also FloraxMirta(this I think would be the most likely candidate for a canon one in a reboot). I never considered Riven with a crush on Helia before, but I could be down with that. BrandonxSky is fun for me in AU settings, but I can't really see as a thing in most versions with how I interpret Sky. RivenXNabu could be good. Also MusaxAisha. I love them

[blkmxrvel]

To Kree or Not To Kree

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Romanoff!Reader; Natasha Romanoff x LittleSister!Reader; Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff (brief but there!)

Words: 2222

Request: May I please request a Carol Danvers x fem!reader where the reader is really affectionate, but Carol isn’t really cuddly because she’s not used to physical contact? Like, the reader really always wants to kiss/hug Carol but doesn’t cuz she doesn’t want to make Carol uncomfortable? But when Carol initates small bits of affection, like hand holding, the reader gets really happy, and it kinda makes Carol guilty cuz C feels like she doesn’t give R enough love. Sorry if this is confusing I❤u!!!

Summary: You want touch, Carol doesn’t. Carol loves you, you love Carol more. Natasha stands up for her little sister.

Warnings: Carol is a bit of an asshole but means no harm, Natasha is a #mamabear. Angst-ish, but fluffy nonetheless.

A/N: what????? madi managed to post a request???? bitch ik! im sorry it’s taken me so long I was in a bit of a rut there! but iam back and I really like this one. I sorta kinda tried a new writing style? If yall like it lmk. Enjoy!

Everyone says opposites attract, and with you and Carol, it’s quite obvious.

You’re the kind of person who thrives off of human contact and affection. You love anything that involves contact, hugging, holding hands, high fives, cuddling, the whole 9 yards. It’s what gave you the euphoric feeling that everyone craves.

Carol is literally the exact opposite. She stays away from physical contact as much as possible

She doesnt understand the need for it, she wants her space. She doesnt need to….interlock fingers with yours to prove that she loves you. She may have been human, but technically, her wiring was still Kree.

And do you really think they allowed measly… mortal things like hugging and cuddling to slide?

…

That’s what I thought.

You never made a big deal out of it, though. You knew that was just Carol, and you didn’t wanna be the kind of girlfriend that always nags and is never satisfied.

Don’t get me wrong. You’ve tried. Like that once time at the pier.

It was date night, you and carol, and Natasha and Wanda. It was group date:movie on the beach followed by street food and a walk on the pier.

“Group photo!” Everyone huddled together as Natasha stretched her arms to hey everyone in the photo.

You stood by your girlfriend smiling wide, you took a regular photo and then a silly one. You saw Wanda stand on her tiptoes to kiss Natasha on her cheek, so you figured you would do the same to Carol.

I mean…Natasha sure as hell got a kick out of it. And you and Carol were just as much in love and they were.

So, standing on your toes when Natasha went to take another picture, you pressed your lips to Carol eyes.

Big mistake.

Carol froze up, you could’ve sworn she was about to have a seizure with how tense her body got.

“You alright?” Thinking that you crossed a boundary.

“Yeah, Babe. I’m fine.”

You brushed it off and told yourself you were overthinking.

But you weren’t.

For the rest of the night, Carol basically avoided any contact with you, she didnt hold your hand, kiss you on your forehead. None of it.

You chalked it up to her maybe not being comfortable with PDA. You could get with that, I mean…it makes sense. She grew up in a time where people weren’t so open about two women loving each other, and a lot of people today still aren’t it made sense.

But then….Carol not only didn’t show you affection outside, but inside as well.

Everytime you initiated a cuddle session, she would always make some lame excuse “oh, it’s too hot” or “you’re crushing my bladder baby” and she would always play it off.

That happened a lot, like a lot, a lot.

So eventually, you let it go. You didn’t try to hug her, or hold her when she had a bad day. You knew she wasn’t going to hold up or rub your back if you came back from a particularly bad mission that left you with a nightmare. You knew that you weren’t ever going to have that. But you loved Carol, so you were able to deal.

Not being able to be intimate (not sexually) with the one person you loved most took a toll on you, of course it did.

Everyone could see it, especially Natasha.

Nat was your big sister, she was always the one who noticed even the smallest bit of a change in you.

So you bet your bottom dollar that Natasha heard the sigh you let out when she hugged you longer than usual.

This past mission was….brutal, to say the least. You had made it out by the skin of your teeth, broken toe and bruises and scratches everywhere, but alive nonetheless.

Of course, Carol was relieved that you were alive…and she told you that. But sometimes actions speak louder than words. All she gave you was a little smile and peck on the lips. There was no bruising kiss, bone crushing hug. But, you were used to it.

Natasha though, quite the opposite.

As soon as she saw you, her little sister, walk through the compound doors, she gave you the biggest hug.

All you could do was hug back, let out the biggest sigh, and with that came tears. It had been so long since you’d been hugged so passionately. Since someone’s love for you was shown through body movements and physical contact.

Natasha noticed how you were reluctant to pull away, and how when you did. You looked drained, albeit refreshed.

She knew the mission was tough but this was something else. She knew how you looked when it’d been awhile without physical reassurance.

“When was the last time Carol gave you a hug? Held you? Anything?”

And when you couldn’t give a solid answer let alone a recent one, Natasha was ready to rip off a head. You calmed her down of course, saying how it was okay, but She wasn’t having it.

“Why don’t you just tell her how much hugging and affection means to you? You don’t deserve this.” Natasha huffed and crossed her eyes, eyes sad eyes looking into yours.

“Because it’s who she is, Nat.” You tried to explain. “She doesn’t do hugs or late night cuddles. That’s just her.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yeah? Well you do hugs, and kisses and holding hands and late night cuddles. That’s just who you are. Why are you the only sacrificing and making changes to who you are, when she’s living fine and dandy?” She threw her hands up, eyes wide and expectant with anger.

“Why is she perfectly sane and you’re losing your mind, hell yourself? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

Natasha was pissed yes, but it was coming from a place of love. And you knew you needed to hear it.

“I- I don’t know. I just love her and I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable.”

She sighed. Placing her hands on your arms, rubbing up and down. You smiled. “That’s not love, Y/N/N. You can love Carol all you want, but you don’t love yourself if you’re willing to allow yourself to be hurt like this.”

Natasha was right, she knew that. And she also knew that you weren’t going to say anything to Carol directly. So she took upon herself, as she should.

You slept in between Natasha and Wanda that night. Sandwiched in between your two favorite people family members. Don't…. Don’t tell Tony that.

.

The next morning, Carol jumped up at the sound of banging against her door. It was still dark outside, she didn’t even hear birds chirping yet. Who in the world could that be?

“I don’t care if your decent or not Danvers, I’m coming in.”

The door opened and in walked Natasha romanoff, still in her pajamas, but a wicked look on her face. She sat in the chair facing Carol’s bed, faced hardened and eyes raging.

“Nat what the-”

“We need to talk about Y/N.”

Carol’s eyes widened, sitting up immediately. “I- Is she alright?”

“No, thanks to you.” Natasha raised her eyebrows, attitude spewing from her body language. Spicy.

“What are you talking about?” Carol rubbed her eyes, it was too early to be dealing with yelling and accusations.

“Why haven’t you hugged her? Or kissed her? Or held her after her worst missions? Or told her it was going to be alright when she wakes up screaming from nightmares? Because I’m sure she does. We all do. But unlike Y/N, we have someone to calm us down and make is feel safe? Do you even love her?”

Carol scrunched her eyebrows up at that. “Of course I love her why are you asking that?”

“Are you sure?” Natasha tilted her head. “Because if you did, you would see how tired and sad she looks. How all she wants is a hug and kiss everyone once and a while from her girlfriend! How she just wants to hold your hand when you pass through crowds because they make her nervous and she doesnt want to get lost!”

Carol stuttered. What was Natasha talking about?

“She wants to feel loved. Because actions speak damn louder than words. And you telling Y/N that you love her means nothing if she doesn’t feel it.”

Natasha is pacing around the room now, rage fueling her words. This was for her sister.

“God. She sacrificed the one thing that grounds her the most because you are ‘comfortable’ with physical contact.” Air quotes. “Well too damn bad, Danvers. Sometimes we gotta feel uncomfortable to make the one we love comfortable. And it isn’t even unreasonable, its human! And before you spew that Kree bullshit at me, you have your memories back, and all the feelings that come with it. You know what it’s like. Y/N hasn’t been hugged or held in weeks. She thrives on that. That’s why she probably almost died! Because she just couldn’t think, her body didn’t have enough energy, enough…love to get out of their sooner.” Natasha wiped her eyes, red and puffy eyes before looking at her sisters girlfriend. Her voice cracked all through her rampant speech.

“So before you say, you love her. Do you actions show it? She may be here now, might he huffing it and powering through. But a person can only handle so much before they break. And I’ll be damned if I let you break my sister. So shape up, or ship out, Danvers. My sister comes first.”

And with that…Natasha was gone.

Wow.

Carol just sat in her bed, hair still messy and eyes red and teary.

What kind of girlfriend was she? Natasha was 100% right. She didnt give you enough love, and she feels like a complete ass for not caring. She knew what she needed to do.

The rest of the day went as Normal. You had no idea about the whole Natasha/Carol debacle. And it stayed that way.

You woke up, in a….surprisingly not empty bed. Natasha and Wanda were at your sides, trying to hold in their giggles as they watched TV to not wake you.

Spoiler alert: didnt work.

Natasha asked how you’re feeling, to which you said “better than ever.” They both frowned at that answer. They didn’t even want to ask when was the last time you and Carol slept in the same bed.

You all went your separate ways. It was Sunday, you had training and a debriefing to prepare yourself for. But you needed to shower first. Mentally, you were refreshed, being squished because two bodies and snug like a bug in a rug really gave your mind a boost.

You were sad that it wasn’t Carol on either side of you, but you didn’t dwell too much on it. Not a good idea to think too much.

You walked towards your room, turning the knob to get your things to shower.

You nearly jumped when you saw a disheveled Carol on your bed. Red eyes and a look of pure guilt when she saw you.

“Carol, is everything alright?” She stood up and walked over to you. She played with her hands as she tried to find the right words.

“I just- I.” You reached out to place your hands onto Carol’s, immediately pulling your hands back when you registered just who was standing in front of you.

Carol broke at that. Tears now freely flowing from her eyes as she covered them with her hands.

“You’re scaring me, Car. What’s wrong?” She pulled her hands down and stared at you, the tears never stopping.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled forward and warm, strong arms coming around your waist.

It was an odd feeling, a new one, and it took you a minute, but then you realized.

This is a hug, Carol is hugging you. Oh my god. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

You wrapped your arms around Carol’s middle, squeezing tightly as you laid your head on her chest. She squeezed harder, still crying, while words fell from her mouth.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been the worst girlfriend ever. I put myself before you and I let you not put yourself first. I should’ve hugged you everyday, and kissed you on your forehead when you were sleepy and- and held your hand when were in crowds and let you lay on me when you were scared. I’m so sorry. You’re only human and I denied you of the one thing you needed most. Please forgive me.”

You didn’t let go of Carol, or say anything else. You just squeezed harder, your arms coming to wrapped around her neck, as she pulled your body even closer.

Tears sprang to your eyes when you felt her lips press to your forehead.

Was this a dream?

“This was all you wanted and I never gave it to you. You never go without it again I promise, I love you. I love you and I’m gonna show you. No more Kree Carol, Human Carol from now on.”

You placed a kissed on Carol’s neck, smiling when she sighed in relief.

This was all you wanted, and you finally got it. You’re only human.

[borathae]

Hey... about the drabbles? Could you do one where you're supposed to have a first date with one of them but either you or he gets in a minor accident but has to stay at the hospital overnight and the other person is extremely hurt and therefore angry bc their (hard to get) trust was "used to hurt them" but then they find out and it's fluffy? And could you maybe do it with yoongi bc atm I'm so soft for him like 🥺 Thank you, love your work❤ ~procrastinating anon

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff 

Warnings: low self-esteem, self-hatred, heartbreak, descriptions of minor injuries nothing major I promise, so much pain and sadness; but I promise the ending is fluffy and healing

Wordcount: 2k (I’m so bAD AT KEEPING THINGS SHORT jsjsjs)

a/n: I apologize for the total angst fest in the beginning jsjsjsj. This was not how I actually planned it, but I let my feelings flow free soooo I’m sorry? 🤧😂 also lisTEN I relate so muCH I’m so goddamn soft for Yoongi lately, this man owns my heart 🥺😭 I hope you enjoy this cute little drabble and I love youuu!  💜

Today you were supposed to have your first date with a cute guy, who you had been chatting with for quite some time now. Two months and six days to be exact. Min Yoongi was his name. Min Yoongi was currently working as a music producer, he was the proud father of a brown toy poodle named Holly and had a soft spot for holding hands. His hair was dark, almost black with the ends twisted in soft locks. His eyes, the prettiest eyes you had ever seen, made you giddy just thinking about them. Oh how many hours you have spend getting lost in them when you looked through the many selcas he had sent you.

At first you didn’t even want to accept his chat-request, too scared made you the thought of talking to someone again feel. Quite honestly you had terribly bad luck in your relationships – lovers and friends alike – you got cheated on, got used and abandoned when you were no longer of use, got called ‘not lovable’ and worse things you don’t even want to think about anymore. So downloading “the best dating app on earth” – so your best friend called it – was the scariest thing you had done in forever, followed by pressing “accept” on Yoongi’s request to chat and actually answering his dorky but loveable first message.

Yoongi turned out to be the sweetest and most understanding guy – person actually – you had ever talked to. He listened to your worries and told you without a hint of hesitation that he would love it if things would developat a speed you were comfortable with and that you can take as much as time as you needed.

He agreed on your terms to not rush meeting in person, because god that would make you practically have a full-on panic attack. That was the first time you had honestly smiled in a long time, rereading his message over and over again, you weren’t able to believe your luck.

Time passed and with it your trust grew. You were chatting on a daily basis with him by now, wishing him a good morning and waiting excitedly for his good night phone calls at exactly ten twenty every night. You felt totally comfortable with him. You felt safe to be yourself around him, even if it was just through the phone. You felt sexy when you noticed the way his eyes travelled over your features when phones calls weren’t enough anymore and they turned into video calls. You felt loved and you were pretty sure the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest every time you thought of him was love too.

So when Yoongi asked you if you wanted to meet up in person soon, your heart practically did somersaults in your chest. You had never typed “Yes!” faster in your life and judging by his quick answer neither had he.

The date was settled, two days from now you will meet each other in a little corner café. You couldn’t sleep in excitement, your mind was practically racing with scenarios of your date.

When the time finally came, you spend the entire day getting ready for your date, washing your hair, moisturizing every inch of your skin, picking out the perfect outfit. You showed up an hour earlier than arranged, just so you could mentally prepare yourself for finally seeing him in person. You were so excited.

One hour passed. Half an hour passed. You sent him a quick text asking if he was running late. He went online, typed and went offline before his message was able to reach you.

Two hours had passed since you came here. You quickly send Yoongi another message, asking him if he forgot about today.

Half an hour passed. No answer, no calls, no nothing.

Another thirty minutes pass and here you are still sitting at the corner café and waiting for him.  

Today should have been epic, exciting, remarkable, unforgettable. You were so sure it would bring a smile to your face every time you think about it. How could you be so wrong about that? You trusted him, you believed him when he told you he wouldn’t use you, you ate up his promises of support and comfort without as much as patting your stupid eyelashes.

You call him. It rings once then his voice mail tells you he isn’t available right now. He really rejected your call just like that.

So he just used you. You should blame him and be angry at him, but truth be told you weren’t. You were just hurt, so deeply hurt you have to look down your chest for a moment to see if you were actually bleeding. You honestly feel like you do.

Without any hesitation you block his number, block his social media profiles and delete all of his pictures. And just like that he is out of your life, your ability to trust is ruined for another year and your heart is broken.

Three days pass where your life consists of nothing more than crying yourself awake, forcing yourself to go to work and then continuing where you had left of in the morning when you go to sleep. You would have probably continued your daily routine if an unknown number hadn’t called you on the morning of your fourth day. The caller turns out to be Kim Seokjin, best friend of Yoongi who had stolen your number out of Yoongi’s notebook and who had made it his plan to explain everything.

Yoongi had gotten into an accident on the day of your date. The “idiot” – so Seokjin called him – walked into the busy street and got hit by a car because he was in the midst of typing out a message. He was lucky, nothing major happened. His right shoulder got dislocated and whilst getting thrown across the street he hit his head, resulting in a slight concussion. The entirety of guardian angels must have been with him on that day, so Seokjin said, the doctors told him such an accident results in death or life-changing injuries most of the times.  

As quickly as possible you are the hospital Yoongi is currently recovering at and find yourself standing in front of his room with shaking hands. Would it be awkward between the two of you after everything that had happened? What if you look at him and won’t feel the same warm love you had felt for him before?

A nurse opens the door before you can even knock, eyeing from head to toe before greeting you with a bright smile. It’s now or never. With held breath you enter the small hospital room.

“Yoongi?”you almost whisper, tiptoeing to his bed.

You have to take a deep breath when you finally take a look at him. All the feelings you wanted to push down and forget come rushing back into your heart, overwhelming you. You stumble back, holding onto the footboard of his bed.

He looks just as beautiful as he did through the phone screen, maybe even prettier if you were being honest. Even in his current asleep state he is able to take your breath away.  His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted as steady breaths make his chest heave up and down. He looks so peaceful and calm, despite the white bandages covering the entire top part of his head and his right arm resting in a black sling.

Waking him up feels so cruel, but god, leaving him without having said hello feels so much worse. So you call his name loudly and gently tap his foot. He stirs, licking over his lips and swallows. His eyes flutter open. He mumbles your name, totally confused and still half-asleep.

“Hey”, yousay shyly.

“Hey, wow what a nice dream, these pain meds are awesome”, he murmurs, closing his eyes again.

“This isn’t a dream. I’m really here”, you chuckle.

“Seriously?” he gasps, surprisingly high-pitched for his normally deep voice. He sits up abruptly, hissing when hot pain rushes through his shoulder.

“Careful”, you rush to his side and help him sit up with a hand on his upper back, “you are still hurt.”

You sit down at the corner of his bed, careful not to hurt him.

“Yeah, for a second I nearly forgot about that”, he chuckles in pain, “how do you even know I am here? I thought you blocked me.”

You cringe at his words. So he noticed.

“Uhm, yeah I have. I, I mean had. I kind of had a slight mental breakdown when you ditched me at the café and I blocked you everywhere and deleted all of your pictures and basically locked your memory behind a big steel door in my mind and I swore to myself to never trust again.”

“Understandable”, Yoongi says. He takes your hand, squeezing it gently. You don’t even realise his gesture, too lost in rambling your thoughts out loud. It makes Yoongi tighten his hand around yours just all the more as a fond smile hushes over his face. You are so adorable when you rant like this and forget everything around you.

“But then your friend Seokjin called me”, you continue as if nothing happened, “and explained everything and now I feel like a total idiot for ever believing that you used me and at first I didn’t even want to come because I was too embarrassed, but then I started to miss you and-“, you pause to take a look at Yoongi.

A fond smile sits on his face, his eyes sparkle in adoration. Heat washes over your face as you start to blush vividly. You can’t even look into his eyes right now.

“I was rambling again. I’m so sorry. You probably think that I’m crazy right now”, you cringe, “sorry.”

“Actually I was thinking how cute you are right now”, Yoongi says softly, giving your hand another squeeze.

One you finally feel and one that sends in your body into complete overdrive. Your heart starts racing, your whole face becomes as red as a tomato, you stutter an answer but give up when you can’t even get out one basic word.

“I’m glad that you came”, he breathes.

You smile as an answer, squeezing his hand.

“It’s not an outfit I would normally wear nor is the location nice for a first date, but I hope that, I don’t know, it is still enough to give me a second chance?” he asks, almost scared.

“Of course it’s enough, it wasn’t your fault that you missed our date. I know that now”, you reassure him, making him smile, “besides I think you look cute in that hospital gown. I like the little pandas on the fabric”, you giggle, touching one of the dozens of animals on his shirt.

Right above his heart, you can feel it speed up underneath your fingertip at your gesture.

“Just wait until you see the back, because there is basically none.”

“Oh my god Yoongi”, you gasp at the mental picture of Yoongi sitting here with his butt all bared and naked.

“I’m wearing underwear don’t worry”, he laughs.

“What a relief”, you giggle, lowering your head in giddiness.

He pulls you closer to his body, making you scoot up the bed until he can wrap his arm around your middle comfortably and your back is rested against his side. You are careful not to put too much pressure on his body in order not to hurt him, despite your body wanting to basically sink into his arms. God finally being able to feel his touch, his warmth, his heartbeat is even better than you had imagined.

“Please stop me if this is too fast for you. And also I know you don’t really start a first date by kissing the other person, but-“, he inhales shakily, staring at your lips longingly, “-can I kiss you?”

“Yes please”, you whisper, leaning closer to his body.

His hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, your own cups his cheek. You are staring at each other for as long as possible, mesmerized by the other. Only when your lips brush over his and a gentle sigh leaves his throat do your eyes flutter closed and the feeling of his soft lips on yours drowns you in warmth.

[justjessame]

Avery Emerson Clay: Hook, Line, and ... Have Y'all Ever Been Bait?!

My new schedule began the next morning, tempered only by waking up in Jake’s arms, and followed by a lengthy shower that was definitely Jake’s way of negotiating for me to behave in the way my dad and brother expected me to. Trust me, if Jake was willing to wake me up this way every damn day, I’d be more than willing to go along with Daddy and Clay’s stupid script with less bitching than my tiny body would put out naturally.

If you’d ever seen Jake Jensen fully naked and covered in bubbles, which you won’t because I’d beat you bloody, you’d understand my compulsion to go with the flow.

While being put into a more malleable state, I wasn’t completely devoid of my own personality. I pulled a few choices for attire for my first day as bait. Since I’d be jogging, then running errands to the office, and - God help us all, shopping, I would need a few wardrobe changes.

“Do you really think that is a good idea?” Jake was barely containing his laughter, and I didn’t really want him to. I was pulling on my first costume, the athletic look, and I knew exactly what he was talking about.

I turned to face him and made sure I was wearing the most exaggerated perky look I could force my face into. “Now, Jake, isn’t the point to make Maxi-poo grab my tiny ass?” The shirt was tight and bedazzled with the word “SNACK” across my tits, it was a joke clearly, something my mom had grabbed on one of her and Dad’s many trips. Something NO ONE ever expected me to actually wear in public. “I have another one in here that says ‘JUICY’, if you think that’s better?” I bit my tongue and he shook his head laughing before coming close enough to kiss me.

“You’re incredible, Avery,” I was on tiptoes to keep contact, but Jake was helpful and cupped my ass through the very tight shorts I’d paired the stupid shirt with and lifted me so I could wrap myself around him. “I’m sure your dad and Clay are going to pop a blood vessel between them, but I think you’re fucking amazing.”

With that in mind, I grabbed my earbuds, my cell phone, and headed off for my extra dose of jogging that I fucking hated. Dad stared at my outfit, but refrained from offering any feedback while Clay lamented the narrow choices that it gave for hiding the tracking device and bug to keep me company.

“So I get to keep Jake inside me all day?” I caught Jake’s eye and grinned at how red and purple he could get in public. “Maybe next time lead with that when selling the op to me.”

“Ave,” Clay was tucking the earwig into my earbud, making them one, “maybe try to keep Jake alive by NOT making him a target for Dad’s fucking rage?” His voice was quiet enough that I was fairly certain Dad couldn’t hear him. “You like him, right?”

I sighed, “yeah, I do.” Which sucked, because pissing Dad off was pretty fucking fun, but getting Jake maimed would suck far worse. “Alright, so I jog down the hill and around the park and then back up the bike path,” I thought the best way to fix shit was to pretend I didn’t say anything bad at all. “If I have to do it more days than usual, I don’t see the point in diverting from the same course.”

“Right,” Dad offered, grabbing my water bottle from the fridge and handing it to me. “While you jog, keep the music to a lower level than eardrum bursting, that way not only Jake can hear you, alright?”

I nodded and he walked me out. Dad stayed with me in the driveway while I stretched, talking me through the finer points of some of the self defense shit that I hadn’t touched in awhile. “But I can’t incapacitate him, right?” I groaned, touching my toes. “The point is to get Max to take me.”

“Take you, but not hurt you, Avery.” Dad stepped closer to me. “Make sure he knows you're a Clay, princess.” With a kiss to my forehead and a pat on my back I was off on my run.

Nothing happened during my jog, or my shopping trip. Aside from mind numbing boredom. I hated to shop. Unless it was for my pets or for a purpose. Mindless shopping because I could? Boring. Glancing at the files I had on the passenger seat of my car, I felt another sigh build. Last errand on my list for day one of my ‘routine’, Guardian Incorporated.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Dad’s voice cut in, as I moved through traffic. Throughout the day, Dad, Clay, and Jake had given me mini pep talks. They weren’t as helpful as they hoped to be, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t tell them that. “One more stop and then you can come home.”

“Yep,” I agreed, pulling into the garage after being nodded through the security gate. “One more chore then fetch and yoga.”

Soft chuckles broke through my earbud and I smiled. “Never thought I’d hear you sound happy about the yoga, princess.” The chuckles belonged to all three men in my life, but the comment was fully Daddy.

“Yeah, well don’t hold me to it for long.” I muttered. Grabbing the files and my employee badge, I beeped my car locked and headed for the bank of elevators in the employee garage.

The first couple of days were simple and non-eventful. I jogged. I shopped. I did errands to GI. We added stops and errands that made sense.

Rose was back at work. She didn’t say a word about the missing practice dummy or about my new schedule, which says a lot about how long she’d been with our family.

Jake had moved into my room, there seemed to be NO point in keeping up some stupid pretense in having his things in a separate room, and forcing Rose to keep it in the same state as a room that actually had a person staying in it.

It was a regular day, at least my NEW regular. Wake up wrapped up in the warmth that was Jake Jensen, get a hot shower to make my day a little easier to face, then dress for a jog that I’d rather not fucking deal with - with an earbud in my head with music and three men giving me their version of motivational advice.

Once I was miserable from the exertion, I’d come home for a less pleasant shower, redress in my next costume change, this time for mindless shopping and whatever bullshit “look at me” errands the men in my family devised for Max to find me doing. A bundle of “files” for good measure next to me in the car, and away I’d go, my earwig in place.

Jake, Daddy, and Clay would take turns to tell me how good I was doing or tell me how fabulous I was in all ways shapes and forms. I’d maneuver through traffic and I’d work through the stores and the shiny happy people that I was supposed to enjoy dealing with on the daily. Spoiler: I wasn’t enjoying dealing with these people on the daily.

Off to GI, where I’d be waved through the gate, onto the employee garage, into the employee elevators and up through the floors. Dropping a file here, there and everywhere until I was back in my car and home. Except, today, I made a different choice.

“What if I don’t park in the garage?” I had to ask out loud, the earwig wasn’t a mindreader, thank fucking God. No one answered, so I went on with my idea. “If I go in through the main entrance, maybe Max will see me. I mean it’s not like he has the same access as I do.” Fucking lightbulb moment.

“Try it,” Clay, the voice of reason, or at this point fucking try anything. “Give it a shot, Ave.”

“I plan on it, bro.” I was pulling up to the curb, hoping that I had the necessary shit for the parking meter. “Let’s hope I don’t get a fucking ticket, OK?”

The light chuckles told me they were tense, but hopeful. Could family members and your boyfriend really be hopeful for your possible kidnapping? Yes, I figured. Yes, they could. I grabbed the files and some change from the cupholder and clipped my badge onto the top folder. Here goes nothing.

I was waiting at the first bank of elevators, holding the files and doing the mental math for how long the meter would give me before I’d have a ticket to pay, when I felt it. The tingle that tells you someone is paying attention to you. Close attention.

The mantra started in my head. “Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.” The worst thing I could do was look, right? I mean if Max was actually here, looking would be the tale tell sign that I KNEW.

The elevator dinged open and I stepped onto it, alone. And as the doors were about to slide shut, a voice called out asking for me to hold it. I just managed, and the person who stepped inside was so benign that I doubted highly that it was the Max that my brother was looking for. This man? This linen suited, perfectly coifed, somehow pansy-assed looking man was a black ops burning psycho? REALLY?

“Do you mind pressing 3 for me?” He asked and I shook my head and tapped the button. “Thank you, Miss?”

“You’re welcome.” I stepped to the right, putting a bit more space between us and focusing on the files in my hand.

“That’s not very friendly,” I didn’t answer, but he didn’t really need me to. “I’d think that the daughter of Guardian Incorporated’s founder would want to put on a more welcoming demeanor for a prospective client.”

I looked up to see him staring down at me with a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I’d expect a prospective client to know that the daughter of the founder is in disgrace right now, so pandering to prospective clients isn’t high on her to-do list.”

“Touche, Miss Clay.” He gave a small tilt of his head, point to me. “I guess I missed that tidbit. Whatever could such a striking young woman do to fall into ‘disgrace’ was it?”

I moved slightly closer to him and tilted my head closer too. “I tasered an employee's balls when he muttered ‘nepotism’ at me a time too many.” A shrug of my shoulder and I moved back to my original position. “Now I work from home, unless I’m forced to bring paperwork in that can’t be faxed or digitally sent.”

He was grinning at me with real amusement now. “Pity, I’m sure you add more than just beauty to the workplace, Miss Clay.”

My floor dinged and I exited the elevator. “It was nice to meet you, Mister -”

“Oh, I think we’ll meet again real soon, Miss Clay.” He was fixing his cuffs and I noted that one hand was wearing a leather glove. “Very soon.”

“I can’t be completely sure,” I muttered once the elevator doors were shut and it started to move to the next floor. “But I’m pretty confident that Max and I just shared an elevator.”

[thecardsimagine]

Just some Julian fluff in the middle of Halloween because I realized that he must have a terrible back with him hunching over papers all night long and being tall. So I decided he deserves some care for that!

≿————-————- ❈ ————-————-≾ 

You heard the rumbling of the door and the floorboards before you heard him. With a soft, “Ack!” Julian made his way into the shop, his shoes making a small clack as he took them off and set them down, tiptoeing up the stairs. You stirred, getting torn out of sleep as you noticed his presence in the room. Still half-asleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes sleepily before addressing him.

“Julian?” you called out, stifling a yawn. There was no clock near to know the time, but the moon shone brightly through the window so you knew it was late. You must have been sleeping for a few hours already at this point.

“Oh, my Love,” he cooed as he noticed your awake state, hustling to get to your bedside. “I’m sorry for waking you- AH!”

The moment he sat down at the edge, reaching out to cup your cheeks, he folded together like a piece of paper, one hand pressed into his back in pain. Even with the little light from the moon only, you could see the hurt in his face, immediately alerting you. “Julian!” you exclaimed worriedly, brushing off the blanket and rounding the bed in a hurry.

Sinking to your knees on the ground next to him you looked him over, trying to find out what’s wrong. “What happened? Tell me?” you urged, but you let him take a few deep breaths before demanding the answer. “It’s nothing, just a small - ah - wrong turn. Maybe a twist, I ran into another apple cart you know.”

Confused, you brought up a hand to his and pushing it carefully into the place he was shielding with his palm. There was a terrible flinch shaking through his body, paired with a scream that would make the neighbors wonder what you two were doing in the middle of the night again. “Oh, no, no, please not,” he pleaded as your hand reached up again.

“You know I love it when you touch me with those pretty hands of yours, but that doesn’t really excite me right now.” Laughing meekly, he tried to overplay it with his joke, but one look at you was enough to let him know it wasn’t all that funny.

“Then tell me what I can do,” you asked helplessly, having to watch him as his usual smile changed into the same he had whenever he would talk himself down in the past. “You look like a beaten dog, maybe even worse...”

For a moment there was silence in the room, aside from him taking stomach deep breaths, breathing into the pain. “I-I don’t really know.” Shoulders slumping, you gave him a dissatisfied huff. “But you’re a doctor.”

“Yes, I am. A pretty good one, if I might say-”

“Julian, take this seriously.”

Lips puckering, he averted his gaze, knowing you just caught him trying to make the situation a little less serious. “It’s been like that for a few days, it just won’t go away.”

“Is that why you’ve been away every night until late? So I wouldn’t notice?” you scolded, a little hurt to learn the truth like this. “Well, it worked... at first...”

“Oh, Julian...” you sighed, standing up and hooking your arms under his armpits. Together, and under loud confessions of his pain, you managed to help him sit up, continuing to lend him a hand to get out of his clothes. “Where is it, tell me,” you demanded, putting coat and jacket over a chair nearby before unbuttoning his shirt.

“Somewhere around here,” he confessed finally, vaguely motioning a hand over his back. You had to push him forward slightly by his shoulder to see, making him whine, but you were glad there was no bruise or outwardly visible change on his skin, which probably meant he was mostly alright. “Can you lay down for me, please?” you asked, patting the bed under him.

“N-Not sure, I slept in the chair the last days, it hurt too much-”

“No wonder your back hurts,” you sighed. “Try, I will help with the legs.”

Very hesitantly, and with shaking arms, he moved over, trying his best to lay down. You thought you heard a sob somewhere between the whines and grumbles that escaped him as you helped to settle his feet, laying him on his stomach for better accessibility. But once he was finally down, it was like he sunk into the sheets beneath him, letting out a long, desperate sigh.

You went to wash your hands, bringing back some ointment that worked like a pain reliever if applied. Gently, you scooped out a big chunk, the buttery texture immediately melting in the warmth of your hands as you rubbed them together. With very careful motions you started to massage on top of his shoulders.

However, the further down you came, the more you found him tensing under his usual beloved touch of yours, stirring in his place. “Relax, Julian,” you mumbled, trying to soothe him, though it did little for his nerves. “If you had told me sooner we could have done something before it would start to hurt quite that much.”

Muffled whines came from the front as you reached the area he had directed you too, back stiff as a bread under your palms. You started with small strokes, eventually widening them into circles when you felt him come to terms with your touch. “I bet it comes from all the time you spend hunched over your researches. And because you never let me tiptoe to kiss you, always leaning down.”

A vague laugh escaped him and you could watch his toes curl into the sheets, holding on to the fabric as much as he gripped his pillow with his hands.

“Darling, please. Isn’t that punishment enough?” he asked meekly whilst leaning upwards, tensing his back even more. But his grin was unbothered by how his voice sounded. “I believe you are somewhat enjoying it though,” you joked right back, giving his shoulder a small pat, signaling him to lay down again.

“Maybe we should get a new bed too, that would help,” you sighed. “And raise the entrance door frame, you always get stuck there.” There was a huff into the covers in reply, his head turning so he’d be able to continue to talk to you. “You’d have to raise any and all doorframes in Vesuvia to achieve the goal of me not having to slip through under them.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” Kissing his cheek you felt him finally relax under your palms, the ointment seemingly making an impact. “Feeling any better?” you asked and you heard him sigh much more contently now. “Much better...” he admitted, letting out a long yawn. You continued to massage the ointment in, his back starting to feel more and more sticky as it dried out. “Make sure not to move around too much or you’ll get it everywhere,” you warned him.

But against your expectations, there was no answer to your urge, making your head spin around. Eyes closed, with his mouth slightly open, he rested on his right arm, the back of his hand having the shimmer of drool on it. “Julian?” you asked surprised, turning a little more to him. Not uncharacteristically, his left arm hung down from the bed, a fine meal for the monster under it if there was one. He did not stir, nor did he reply and you smiled, amused to find him completely knocked out for once.

Quitely, you got up, washing your hands thoroughly to get rid of the ointment under your nails and joints. You’d take care of the water in the morning you decided, not wanting to risk to wake him if you were to water the plants with it now. Even though you fretted the thought of having to wash it, you picked up a spare blanket from the pile of pillows and soft cushions of all kinds, tugging Julian in carefully, taking off his eyepatch and kissing his cheek before rounding the bed and climbing in yourself.

One last time you looked at him, his tired form looking as if he was gazing out of the window when really, you wondered what it must felt like to sleep so deeply after being relieved of such a pain. Snickering to yourself, you made a reminder to yourself to ask him in the morning, feeling very accomplished. The sight of him sleeping peacefully by your side was enough to get out of bed for in the middle of the night, even if he tried so hard to keep you from doing it.