black hair is political

The Black girls who u refuse to reblog are still valid and still matter.

Size 20 Black girls
Scene/alternative/nerdy Black girls
Black girls with acne or scarring
Dark skinned Black girls who aren’t fuckable to u
Monoracial Black girls with Black features
Disabled Black girls
Black girls who say “fuck respectability politics”
Black girls with 4c natural hair
Black girls who critique the Black community and the damage it has done to us..

Like. Black girls matter whether you like us or not.

Not So Boring: Part 2 (Riverdale & Teen Wolf) ~ Jughead Jones

“So wait…let me get this straight.” Jughead pointed to me, “You and your cousin are banshees,” He then pointed at Isaac, “you’re a legit werewolf,” he then points over to Stiles who was balancing spoons on his nose, “and you’re…” He trailed off.

“An idiot.” Isaac finished, causing Stiles to punch him in the shoulder only to injure himself.

We had just explained to Jughead about the supernatural and why we were really in in Riverdale after he took us to this nice little diner, with awesome milkshakes.

“Well he’s taking it a lot better than Liam did.” Stiles thought aloud and Isaac and I nodded as we thought back to when the baby beta had first become a werewolf.

“Wait. Who’s Liam?” Jughead questioned from the other side of the booth.

I rolled my eyes, “He’s another beta, like Liam. But he was turned by Scott, by accident…kind of.”

“Hey, Jughead…” A new feminine voice called out as we turned in the booth, towards the sound to see a black haired girl, a blonde haired girl, and a red-headed boy walking towards us. “Hey, new people. I’m Veronica Lodge, nice to meet you.” The black haired girl introduced, I smiled politely at her.

Veronica then pointed to the other girl who waved slightly, “This is Betty,” and then over at the boy, “and this is Archie.”

“I’m (Y/N), this is Stiles, and Isaac.” As I introduced my two friends I noticed Issac’s eyes seemed to be kept on Betty the entire time, he was watching her with soft eyes and wonder. The Lahey boy then sniffed the air, looking around.

“I smell something.” He muttered to Stiles and I causing our eyes to widen.

“What is it?” Stiles asked through a fake smile while looking at the Riverdale residents.

Isaac sniffed again, “I can’t make it out entirely. It smells like…like salt.” The three of us exchanged glances knowing we had to go and figure out where the scent was coming from.

“Hey, Stiles. Don’t we have to go and call Scott? Make sure everything is okay with him?” I asked aloud, trying to get us a gateway out of here.

“Oh yeah,” Stiles stuttered, he was a terrible liar. “The accident was hard on him.”

Betty frowned slightly while Jughead looked at us suspiciously, “Oh no. What happened?”

Isaac, Stiles, and I traded glances before Stiles and Isaac yelled out,

“He fell down the stairs.”

“He was in a fire.”

I mentally face palmed.

The two boys glared at each other before Isaac spoke again, clearing his throat, “He fell down a flight of stairs.”

“Into a fire!” Stiles quickly added, I wanted to tape his mouth shut.

Isaac gritted his teeth as he looked down at the three high schoolers, “Yes, Scott fell down the stairs…into a fire.”

I nodded, “And that’s why we need to call him. ASAP.”

“So we’ll just be right back.” Stiles said as we stood up, scooting out of the booth, the Riverdale kids watching us curiously.

“It was nice meeting you.” I addressed the three, catching Jughead’s eye as he frowned.

“See ya!” Stiles said, before practically running out of the building, Isaac and I quickly following him.

I hit Stiles on the back of his head as soon as we got outside.

“Ow! (Y/N)!” The Stilinski boy whined, cradling the back of his head.

“A fire? Really?” I questioned the boy, frowning as Isaac sniffed the air, before catching the salty scent.

“This way!” He yelled before taking off, his blonde curls bouncing, Stiles and I hot on his heels.


Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 || Pt. 4 || Pt. 5 || Pt. 6 || Pt. 7 || Pt. 8 || Pt.9 || Pt. 10 || Pt. 11 || Pt. 12 || Pt. 13

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: You were always there for him. You cheered him on, supported him, but apparently, you were just a distraction.

Word Count: 1548

Originally posted by bwiseoks

“I’m sorry” were the last words you could ever remember him telling you. 

That day you were so fired up with feelings of anticipation and excitement; it was only a few days before your boyfriend was to debut after all. For as long as you could remember, music always had such a strong grasp on Yoongi’s heart. He practically breathed music, hell he probably was made of music itself. 

You had always known about how his parents didn’t take too kindly of his passion for music, but you had always been there for him. You, along with his older brother, were the only support he had until he auditioned for an entertainment company called BigHit. Although he placed second in his audition, he still managed to grab a spot as a trainee. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you were to claim that you were beyond ecstatic. You were practically bouncing off the walls when Yoongi had told you that he had made it. 

You both knew what it meant for your relationship when he became a trainee. He had to work hard and spend most of his time moving towards his dream. This meant less time spent with you, but you knew how much this meant to him. You loved him so much that you prepared yourself for the lack of dates, the lack of communication, the lack of affection shown towards one another. You prepared yourself because you wanted him to fulfil his dream, even if it meant putting a strain on your relationship. 

Keep reading

The Interviewee

Request: hey you ^~^ i wanna say you’re one of my favorite writers 😹💜 i think i have already read everything hahah can you do one like, reader is interviewed by dan (like he did with the thg cast) and she says that she knows him and phil, but then after that, later she sees dan in the hotel and go talk to him and things just start working out between them…

Requested by: anonymous.

A/N: Love the idea, super cute!

Pairing: Dan x Reader

Warnings: none.

Originally posted by dannyhowell

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. How are you?”

You smiled brightly at the two before you. Fixing your dress, you scooted to become more comfortable and gripped the microphone with practiced ease. “I’m well, thank you. Thank you for having me.” You thanked the two boys before you, a warm, welcoming presence evident in your smile.

“Thank you for coming. I am Phil and this is Dan.” The black-haired one greeted, reaching out to shake your head. Politely, you leaned forward shaking ones and then the others hand. You laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear; “yes, Daniel Howell and AmazingPhil, i’m big fans of the both of you.” You complimented.

The brown haired one, Dan, smiled brightly but albeit shocked. “You watch our youtube channels?”

“Yes, it’s why I came for the interview.” You explained, sending a dazzling smile his way. You couldn’t help but giggle slightly on the inside when you saw his cheeks light up with ever so slight blush. “Well, it’s a pleasure. We are also fans of you, but we are here for the fans to hear about your new movie, M/T.”

“What can fans expect from this new feature film?” Dan composed himself, reading off the card and asking the questions precisely written on the card before him.

“Fans can expect a thrilling, horror-flick of a girl and her partner trying to discover the secrets hidden well deep in the mental hospital.” You smiled, explaining the filmed you been working ages on. You were very excited for your new film to come out, as you thought it had a lot of potential and you were proud of it.

“Wonderful!” Phil smiled. You let your eyes wander to Dan, catching the way he carefully watched you. Sending him a little wink, you turned back to Phil for another question.

Walking through the lobby halls, you organized yourself. After a tiring but exciting day of interviews you were ready to crash on your bed. Though, that was the plan, before you caught sight of Dan, the one who’d interviewed you earlier and who you’d had a major crush on for months on end. Smiling, you decided to walk up to him.

“Hey Dan, didn’t know you’d be here.” He spun, shocked to hear your voice. You smiled brightly up at him. “Y/N?” He questioned, clearly shocked. You waved, a sheepish smile upon your lips. “That’s me.”


“Thank you for the interview by the way.” You interrupted him, shaking your head with a smirk. He flushed, embarrassed before clearing his throat. “Thank you for coming.”

“Well, I should get going.” You reached out your hand, he hesitantly, shocked, reached out and grasped your lithe hand. His brows furrowing when he felt you slide a piece of paper in his hand and quickly let go, you smiled before waving and walking away. Staring down, he read the number before him and couldn’t help but chuckle quietly when he saw your little doodle of a smiley face. He looked up, watching after your back before cheering.

Green eyes of envy Jerome X Reader

“Shoo kitten I have important business to attend. I don’t need you hanging around my shoulders.. You’re getting in the way.” Jerome stared at me his green eyes glimmering with anger and what I read to be hate. Nodding afraid I backed out of the room Jerome and the others were in. This new group of obsessed cultists that built Jerome up to be a god, having broken Jerome out of Arkham for the whole Bruce Wayne circus thing. Now he was just an uppity, cocky, brat! None of the Gotham officials knew where he was only the fact that he was gone. This made it so we could live fairly comfortably in the mansion of one of the cultists. 

At that moment they were all chatting about their great come-out called “Panic! under the disco” the name being a close rip-off but was accepted due to Jerome’s enthusiasm. Unimpressed I stormed back to the room Jerome and I shared slamming myself down on the bed weakly hitting one of the pillows.  Mockingly I insulted Jerome with childish remarks like “Rotten Ginger” and “Bitch baby blah blah blah” things he would probably not like to hear. “Oh darling!” He cried happily his footsteps coming down the same hallway I had just stormed down. I sat up acting happy “Yes Jerome?” I said pretending to be happy. He poked his head in the door smiling his usual wide smile. “Oh there you are” I watched him stroll confidently sitting down on the bed in front of me crossing his legs like a child. “I need you to put on the most ravishing and..” he came close to me whispering deeply. ‘and revealing” I smirked watching him put on his show of explaining that I was going to be the main bait. Great. I loved being bait. Like the good girl I am I nodded happily snooping around in the closet for my tight black dress that had crossed strings all the way down the dress stopping in an arrow just before my… girly parts. I absolutely despised wearing revealing clothes it made me feel unattractive and like a caged animal only there to let greasy eyes fantasize about the things they would like to do to me. Jerome watched me put on the dress smirking like an asshole. I carried on flicking my long black and purple hair behind my pale shoulders. walking into the bathroom that connected to the right of our walk in closet. 

Jerome didn’t follow only saying “We tango in five!” then left the room. I rolled my eyes applying my make-up faster then I was comfortable with. I settled with a mediocre smokey eye and the overrated winged eyeliner everyone and their grandma wore. When I was satisfied I grabbed a pair of black flat and ran barefoot out the door. I saw black SUV we used as transportation creeping down the driveway. Knowing Jerome would never have them stop for me I began to run at the van the gravel below my feet seeming to rip my sole to pieces. When I got close enough the back door swung open and I was able to dive in panting.  I heaved out of breathe looking at Jerome who sat smiling smudgy in the front seat. “I hope you brought other shoes doll, those flats just won’t do.” I looked down worried knowing that I was most likely going to be a cause of one of his legendary melt-downs. He sat up suddenly in his seat peering angrily at me. Without me being aware what was going on a par of heavy black heels was thrown at me striking me hard in the face. Jerome laughed clapping his hands. “Strike one!” turning his attention way from me to the road ahead. I held my stinging cheek breathing deeply to avoid crying. Jerome got off on tears, mine would only get him going more. He had become such an asshole ever since he had his face flailed off, just because he had come back from the dead and has all these new followers didn’t mean he was so high and mighty. I shook the thoughts away pulling on the heels. “Stop huffing and puffing dear it’s not attractive.” I glared at his face which was gazing still out the window. o my surprise he turned his head seeing my hateful glare. I dropped my head hoping he wouldn’t say anything, he didn’t having been interrupted the the SUV having it’s breaks slammed. 

Jerome bounced up and down excitedly in his chair. “Woo! you ready boys!” He slammed the drivers shoulder. They all jumped out hollering sneaking in through the back to go planting some bomb or do whatever they had planned for the nights festivities. I grunted opening the door and getting out. My ankles wobbled in the heels Jerome had struck me with due to their height and weight. I wandered up the side of the building towards the entrance. It was spray painted with cults and gang sighs, a type of art work that had seemed to be marking every corner of this city. I didn’t know how I felt about that to wbe honest, now I was no goody-goody I had killed more people than most war vets but still I imagined a mother holding her sons hands walking down the street, her son would smile and point to the bit of graffiti asking innocently ‘what is that mommy?’ she would only frown having a feeling that her sons infatuation could lead to involvement and then blam! death by gang member. I wouldn’t want my kids to end up this way. Coming around the front I spotted the doorman, he was young and handsome, easy to woo. I smiled walking up to him. “Gee it’s awful cold out. Do you mind if I step in and warm my hands.” Gently I swirled my hands around his belt feeling his heartbeat quicken. “Su-Sure step right in” I winked walking past him. “Thank you” I would make sure he would live on past tonight. Inside the club was the same as the rest of them baring music, flashing decorations, dumb young people blah, blah, blah. I made my way to the bar ordering three shots of tequila, salt on the rims or each. 

The bartender was quick and courteous serving me them up quick so I could down them all feeling the unwelcome burn of hard alcohol. I grimaced at the taste. I took money out of my bra and slid it a crossed the table thanking hi before turning around and mapping everything out. Jerome was no where to be seen only a mass of bobbing heads none of them having the fire red hair he did. I grew lonely at the thought of him not being around but then again I didn’t really ever want to see him when he was around. He had become to cruel ever since he came back to.. dead. almost. 

I squinted looking harder, nothing. “Hello miss?” I heard a smooth voice say. I turned to it looking at the face addressing me. He was a thin guy handsome strong jawline, thick black hair. I smiled “How-do-you-do?” I said politely warming up to the stranger. He blushed almost shocked to have my attention. “I’m doing goo-” he dropped his head embarrassed, chuckling to himself quietly. “The real reason I came over here was to ask you to dance. You’re so beautiful and.. alone. It do sent seem right” Now this sounds pathetic but my heart seemed to skip a little. He had the face of a kind hearted man that understood other struggles. I quivered a bit. “S-sure”  He led my carefully out to the dance floor reaching the far right corner where it wasn’t to crowded. We faced each other getting into a casual dancing routine, polite and friendly. Neither of us talked very much but we often exchanged looks smiling like fools whenever his happened. A part of me wanted to lay my head on his shoulders to feel his heart beat as well as the sway of his body, but I didn’t not wanting to ruin the moment. I opened my mouth to ask him his name but before I could get it out a voice cracked over the loud speakers. “Good evening ladies and gentleman what a great-” The voice cut out. Squinting i looked towards the speakers that seemed to be projecting the voice. Jerome was standing in top of the tallest speaker microphone in hand, DJ bleeding out next to him. Jerome’s stare seemed to radiate disgust and hate. “Oh Y/N?” he said in a matter of fact tone. I tugged on my new found friends shoulder urging him to leave with me. “Hey someone stop her!” Jerome yelled something like panic wavering in his voice. I grabbed onto the strangers hand harder pushing our way through the mass o confused people. 

None of his men could catch us so we were out of the club and out of sight by the time they reached the front door. “You need to get in your car and hurry home” The stranger nodded knowing who Jerome was. Before he turned to leave he closed in on my face slowly planting a warm kiss on my lips. I shivered this being the first compassionate kiss since.. well.. never? He walked away without saying another word leaving me out in the wet night air. I giggled like a little girl twirling around on the sidewalk until something cold stopped me. Cringing I knew exactly what it was.

 “Who’s your new boyfriend?” the voice writhed. Sighing I turned around “Jerome-” he cut me off with one finger grabbing my hand and leading me to the alleyway we had parked in. “Let’s talk doll?” Nervously I stopped dead in my track knowing this could end in one of his famous torture cessions. He glared back at me snarling. “I said let’s talk.” he yanked harder on my arm forcing me to follow behind. “ladies first” he said opening the passenger side door ushering me in with a big smile. Nervously I gt in feeling a bit relieved to be off my feet, He got in the drivers side silently fuming as he started p the car. I avoided his gaze instead focusing on the city lights that whizzed by. He headed in the direction of the home we were currently staying in., hopefully if all things went right we would hash out of anger in the bedroom between the satin sheets like we always had but I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be one of those times. We had just reached the gravel driveway when Jerome slammed on the breaks. He looked at me smiling sickly “I apologize I haven’t had my drivers license since.. well.. never!” he shrugged happily for a moment until his grin faded. He started the breathe heavily staring uncomfortably into my eyes. 

I tried to look away wanting to focus my attention on the night sky but his gaze held me still. We stayed put for a few seconds until in some fit of rage he pulled out a pistol and stuck it to my forehead. “ya know I should kill ya’ doll embarrassing me in front t of all those people?” he snaked towards me a mulishness grin overtaking his face, he was hurt though something in the deep part of his eyes told me so. I wanted to scream at him expressing how horrible he had been to me but that would only make him want to blast me even more so I took his cruelties. He stared st me not blinking until I nodded acknowledging him. Slowly he took the gun down looking out the front window chuckling to himself.

 I wiped a tear off of my cheek sneaking a look at him, his eyes were widened with the night sky, his fists pulsating on the steering wheel. Suddenly he began to laugh harder thrashing his fists and head off of the wheel yelling nonsense at no one in particular. He grabbed my hair pulling me closer to his face. Seething in my ear. “Why did you do this to me?” His hand shook as he held onto my hair. “I-I’m sorry I-” I shook my head slightly trying to loosen his grip but it was no use. “You will be sorry Kitten- I you were stronger than this” I opened myself up a little hoping to deescalate the situation. “You’re cruel to me Jerome. You treat me like one of your thugs that you can just throw around all you want. I’m not though and you know it.” He let go of my hair looking coldly into my eyes. “Since when have you become so entitled?” He asked ending with a horrible laugh. I rolled my eyes getting out of the SUV before getting out all the way though I chucked the blasted heels he had previously thrown at me. They hit him and he gasped, I didn’t see his reaction due to the door slamming him out of my view. 

I started walking the sound of the cold gravel crunched under my feet. I focused on the sound instead of the possibility of Jerome starting up the car and running me over. “Y/n wait!” I heard him yell beginning to jog after me. I started in a full run hoping to get far far away from him. His pace quickened behind me I was always a slow runner and plus he had shoes on so it wouldn’t be long until he caught up to me. Again I tried to focus on the night sky as I ran but it was no use the feeling of his hand latching onto my arm. “gotcha” he said  His fingernails dug into my skin, I winced at the pain kicking him as hard as I could in the shin. He growled loosing his balance and falling to the floor. I took off in a full sprint distracted when I heard him cock his gun behind me. I ducked hearing it fire three times. I stayed flat on the ground feeling the dust form the rocks get into my eyes. I blinked rapidly trying to rid myself of this pain. Jerome walked up to me sticking out his left hand, his gun still in the right. I grabbed it and he helped me up. “What is the matter with you?!” I said mad. 

He shrugged looking into my face. “You think?-” He shook his head looking for the right thing to say. “Look I haven’t been the nicest guy- I know- but seeing you kiss” He growled violently kicking rocks, “I dont want to talk about it! the point is- I’m sorry! Just stop doing this and be my doll again.” I was shocked at his words he looked defeated his face morphed in sadness. I nodded grabbing his hand.. “Why did you kiss him?” he said suddenly walking back to the car. I shrugged “I don’t know” he scoffed “I don’t know?, I don’t know!” His hand wrapped around my throat. “How do you not know. You act like it’s nothing but you don’t have to live with it. You don’t have to live with that-” he busted out laughing striking the car with his fists until his knuckles bled. Pan icing at the smudged blood on the car window I ran up behind him and hugged his waist as hard as I could hoping to calm him down. He stopped breathing heavily. “Oh doll you kill me” he said hopelessly. 

I unraveled my arms and grabbed his hand skipping the car ride home walking him the ten feet to the house. I opened the front door letting us both in. “Who was he? huh? Some stud? Business broker with his life in gold?” Hr groaned leaning up against the kitchen table that sat to the right of the door. I shrugged again saying ‘I don’t know’ he winced at my words flipping the table over. “Stop saying that! You’re my whole world and this is how you-” he laughed. I dropped my head all to be lifted up when he was quickly in front of me. “I need to speak with you in the bedroom.” He growled walking away. I grew excited watching his broad shoulders imagining them without the white button up shirt he was wearing. I smiled skipping behind him entering the bedroom just as he was sitting on the desk in front of his bed a devilish look on his face. He snake up to me whispering in my ear. “I’m going to make you forget all about him. I’m the only stud in your life. You got that Doll?” I nodded my hear pulsing in my head. 

His hands made their way up under my shirt, his skin cold on my body heat. I closed my eyes letting myself enjoy the sensation until my shirt was completely off. His lips kissed my neck smoothly while he continued to grip the rest. I sighed wishing he was always like this. His lips moved up to my ear, nibbling slightly on my earlobe. He began to whisper. “Don’t even hurt me again.” I opened my eyes sadness coming over my whole body until I saw him smirking as he left the room. “Jerome!” I yelled. IT took awhile for him to answer. “Sorry kitten things to do, places to be, doll snatchers to kill. But don’t worry” Jerome poked his head into the room smiling “I will be back when he’s dead” I shivered in excitement as his foot steps traveled down the hall again and out the front door. 

Thank you for reading all more to come Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!

Originally posted by kittycheshirestuff

freezing-and-crimson  asked:

This is kinda rude and pathetic to ask. But your writing always cheers me up and I've been so deep in depression that it's not even funny. But could you write a small drabble about Kakashi x Orochimaru taking care of and raising Mitsuki and Log??? If you don't want to then that's fine ^^ don't feel like you have to write something.


It’s a little startling, just how often Kakashi sees his father’s smile echoed so clearly in Mitsuki’s cheerful grins.

Seeing it always gives the same reaction; his breath catches in his throat, his eyes widen, his heart stutters. It’s not pain, the way it might have been before Pein’s invasion. It’s not the aching, crushing grief he carried for so many years. This is closer to joy, light and effervescent and full, and Kakashi smiles back, even though Mitsuki is thoroughly occupied with Boruto right now.

“You know, one could say that it’s your smile as well,” Orochimaru say, amused, as he comes to lean against the balcony railing. Kakashi almost wants to accuse him of reading his mind, but—well. He mentioned it once, helpless in the face of that small connection that shouldn’t be, and Orochimaru’s memory is hardly lacking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, mostly just to be contrary.

Orochimaru’s expression shades towards polite disbelief, but he doesn’t call Kakashi on it. “You have good DNA,” he says instead, gaze flickering back to their son.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, just a little, because coming from the Sannin that’s absolutely a compliment, but it would probably send anyone else screaming for the hills. Sometimes Kakashi wonders why he doesn’t do the same, except for the fact that he’s always been a little light on self-preservation.

Besides, two pieces of his DNA are currently wandering around the Hokage Mansion. Kakashi might not cop to much, but that’s…pretty incredible.

“Rogu?” he asks, because he knows from experience that it’s never a good idea to let his older son stay out of sight too long.

Orochimaru’s amusement says that he sees right through Kakashi’s casual question, and also remembers that time with Gai, the melons, and the exploding tags just as clearly as Kakashi does, if likely for different reasons.

(Kakashi is scarred, all right? There was definite mental trauma happening that day, even if Tsunade laughed him out of her office when he told her that.)

“Occupying himself,” Orochimaru says breezily, as if that’s any sort of comfort at all. He turns precisely, already stepping back towards their bedroom, and adds, “I’m going to R&D if you—”

“I don’t think so.” Maybe Genma is right about mild insanity and suicidal bravery being the prerequisite for becoming a jounin—not that he has any room to talk, the jerk—but Kakashi grabs him around the waist, dodges the knife-hand blow that would have crushed the windpipe of anyone slower, and steers him back towards the freshly-made bed. “You’re not leaving me here alone with four children.”

The amusement on Orochimaru’s face is well-hidden behind a veil of black hair and his half-hearted struggles. “Kakashi, Sarada and Boruto are perfectly polite children—”

“One is Sasuke and Naruto’s child, and the other is Sakura’s,” Kakashi says firmly. “And Mitsuki is terrifying.”

Conspicuously, Orochimaru doesn’t argue this point. “I just made the bed,” he complains instead, and when Kakashi pauses to eye him disbelievingly, there’s a quicksilver flash of a smirk before a foot is sweeping his legs out from under him.

Kakashi is the Hokage and has been a shinobi for over thirty years now; he’s not about to be taken down by a trick like that, so when he falls he grabs Orochimaru and drags him down onto the mattress with him. There’s a brief but fierce struggle to pin each other—Kakashi mostly wins due to extra body mass and feels no shame in admitting it—and when it ends, Orochimaru is watching Kakashi with narrowed eyes and the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

They’re very pretty lips, Kakashi thinks, gaze flickering to them, and can see the exact moment Orochimaru catches it. His eyes darken, features sliding towards smugly amused, and—

Well. Kakashi had never though he’d end up here, that morning when Konoha’s most famous semi-pardoned missing-nin marched into his office with two small children in tow and an aggravated Suigetsu mislabeled my DNA samples so these are yours, Hatake in explanation. Hadn’t even vaguely considered it, but…he’s come to the conclusion that he doesn’t really mind.

Mitsuki’s laugh, loud and bright from outside the window, sounds just like his father’s as well.

Carefully, he tugs his mask off, leaning down to kiss Orochimaru slowly and thoroughly. There’s a satisfied hum as clever fingers curl around the back of his neck, and it’s lazy and languid and full of banked heat.

There’s a sudden groan from the hallway outside their bedroom, followed by an annoyed, “Don’t you know how doors work? I don’t want to see that,” and then hurried steps as Rogu retreats with speed.

Kakashi can’t help but think of that morning, when Sasuke came to drop of Boruto and caught them kissing in the kitchen. Usually Kakashi has to work a lot harder to inflict that level of trauma on his cute former students, so he’s calling this a good day.

Still. Rogu moving with any sort of alacrity outside of an actual fight, even in the face of parental PDA, is usually a bad sign. Kakashi looks down at Orochimaru, who arches a brow right back, and has to sit back with a resigned sigh.

Somewhere in the distance, something explodes. Equal odds as to whether it’s Rogu’s fault or the Terrible Threesome’s.

“I feel like we should ignore that,” Kakashi says lightly.

Orochimaru’s smirk is knowing. “Is the Rokudaime Hokage really afraid of the mischief of children?” he asks, as if that’s a fair question at all.

“My children,” Kakashi reminds him, ducking down for one more quick kiss. “Your children.”

With a hum, Orochimaru concedes the point. “In my defense, I thought I was using the Nidaime’s DNA.”

Like that would have been better. Kakashi lets one raised brow speak for him.

Chuckling, Orochimaru slides out from underneath him, as unexpected but lithe as a snake, and rises to his feet. “I’m required at R&D,” he informs Kakashi, flashing him a sly smile. “Have fun with the children, my dear.”

Kakashi groans and feels entirely justified flopping face-first into the pillows.

Long fingers stroke through his hair, but Orochimaru darts away when Kakashi tries to grab him again. Footsteps—deliberate, Kakashi knows, since the smug bastard can’t be bothered to make noise when walking at any other time—retreat out the door, and Kakashi sighs, smelling smoke.

This is definitely payback for what he inflicted on his father in childhood, he thinks wryly, levering himself up. There’s no doubt at all.

He grabs the spray bottle sitting on the bedside table, straightens his clothes, and heads out to hunt down his children.


@yarashahidi: “Stop bringing politics into football” as though patriotism isn’t inherently political. Patriotism, or a vigorous support for one’s country, implies the country is in vigorous support of you and your existence 🔆 In the words of James Baldwin, “It comes as a great shock to discover that the flag to which you have pledged allegiance… has not pledged allegiance to you”


Nakeya Janice Brown
Born: 1988, California
Currently lives/work between New York & New Jersey.

“My work is the visualization of blackness and womanhood with an emphasis on the politics of hair- one the most scrutinized components of a black woman’s body. My photographs examine the multiplicity of African –American hair through presenting it in various states whether braided, weaved, straightened, or natural. I am intrigued by its ability to communicate dual messages about a woman’s relationship to herself and to society at large. I often employ the female figure and feminine objects to render representations of black feminality and explore the changing language of beauty. Through past memories and personal observations, I use photography to examine how the racialized notion of beauty shape self-perception from a black feminist context.”

― home;

this is my entry for the april @thejilychallenge , with the theme “modern muggle au.”

@clarapotters vs. @childoftimeandmagic :)


The Prompt; “I tripped and spilled the dish on you and started panicking but you ended up comforting me despite the fact that you’re covered in sauce and meatballs how are you so nice” waiter/waitress AU



1.   The place where one lives permanently. London.

2.   A person or persons that make being alive worth it. They know you and all your flaws within moments of meeting you. They love you within hours.

3.   What falling in love feels like?

She keeps picturing the lacy red dress she saw in the shop as she walks into work that night. The twilight haze that surrounded her is supposed to look immaculate, the light setting her hair on fire in the most spectacular way. But her thoughts do not touch upon that subject; her mind is filled with dissertations and Shakespeare and why he is so influential. She is fretting about her university fees and how she can ever fix her relationship with her sister, and she can’t stop thinking about that damn dress.

But alas, that dress cannot belong to Lily Evans this time round. She needs the money to graduate.

London is lit up before long, and Lily takes a moment as she tosses her hair up to take in the view. It would never cease to amaze her.

“Lily, table three needs water and 4 glasses.” Marlene, her co-worker, nudges her gently, adjusting her apron as she fires up a stove.  The kitchen is as busy as it always is on a Friday night, fires roaring up, tall chiefs chopping vegetables with precision, delicately placing parsley on the pasta before them, and waitresses grabbing trays and rushing to serve their customers. Lily sighs gently. Just another day. She nods at Marlene, grabbing the waters before heading out onto the floor, wistfully thinking of how she could be writing instead.

He knows he shouldn’t be taking the Mercedes, because it is just supposed to be a small get together, but everything in his blood feels the need to rebel, to tell the world that Remus has powerful friends. Sirius has tossed him the keys, a fire in his eyes, smoke trailing from his mouth as he exhales nicotine, before shoving the Marlboro packet towards James.

“Remus and Pete said they’ll meet us a seven,” Sirius drawls, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest of the car, while James draws his seatbelt. Sirius doesn’t bother. Sirius is going through enough. His parents have sent him another abusive email. He is still having nightmares. And there isn’t a thing that James can do, and it kills him. At least Peter is emotionally stable. He’s the only one.

James nods, twitching his hand and feeling the car rumble to life underneath him. His fingers vibrate on the gearstick and his urges to smash the damn thing increase. He inhales; not tonight. Remus needs him tonight.

The car revs smoothly along the London roads, and Sirius turns the radio up as loud as it could go, and James doesn’t mind r u mine? Vibrating through his spine as he drives. It’s a normal night. Everything is going to be okay.

The restaurant is situated on a corner, which makes it easy to pull the Mercedes into the park just outside the door, and James can already feel the atmosphere inside. Busy, warm, and a billion amazing pasta sauces wafting towards him.

He looks towards Sirius, Sirius looks towards him, the last of the cigarette between his lips.

“He’ll be okay, right?” His voice makes it sound nonchalant, like of course he would be, but he knows Sirius catches the tremor on the end.

He exhales the smoke slowly, and James automatically falls into time with his breathing.

“We’re all going to be fine, mate.” And then, within a split second, “Now, I want my exotic Italian beer and meatballs.”

James can’t help but chuckle, and they exit the car, smoke still following them.

Pete and Remus are seated, and Sirius is already bounding towards them, while James stays behind to tell the waiter they’re under “Potter.”

He’s distracted as he’s walking towards the table, still thinking of everything that could go wrong tomorrow. Then, he sees a flurry of red hair and uniform brush past him, humming the tune of a song by The Wombats.

She’s not paying attention to anything, just bringing water to tables and brushing strands of hair out of her face, but all James Potter has to do was take one look at her, scribbling the orders with her left hand, and he instantly feels weak at the knees. Nothing is better than her, his jaw has dropped as he walks into a table, before quickly straightening his bowtie and sitting at the table before she can catch him staring.

He claps Remus on the back as he sits, nodding at him in reassurance. Remus’s curly locks fall on his eyes as he smiles, and that’s all he needs to do to thank James. Before they know it, Sirius has started talking about how good Fibonacci’s beer is.

“And I love the theme,” Peter chips in, his eyes glancing around the room, eyeing the numbers that are scattered across the walls, 3s and 5s and 21s, all to honour the namesake of the restaurant.

James can’t help but snort at the theme of the restaurant. Maths was such a mundane thing, but somehow this little Italian restaurant that, amazingly, was filled most nights, makes it endearing.

They talk about pizza (Pineapple did belong on pizza, but Sirius wouldn’t listen to reason) and politics and “No Remus, Earl Grey is not everyone’s favourite tea, you’re just a snob.”

But James can’t help but push his glasses further up his nose whenever she passes their table, and his jaw drops a little every time she has to tuck her hair back.

She makes eye contact with him once, and as soon as he sees the bright green eyes that are so green they couldn’t be real, he knows. He already knows, he’s fucked.  

An hour flies by for Lily, and she’s already beginning to feel light headed. How do people manage to do it? University and working and socializing and having enough money to buy food and pay the rent and have nice dresses and places to wear them to, and still have money to go out.

She blows the hair out of her face and glances back at Marlene from the kitchens, who winks at her as she stirs the sauce.

Lily inhales sharply, picking up her pen and paper and walking over to table 7, where four immaculately dressed 20-something year olds sip their beers and laugh.

She exhales sharply still, realising that one of the four was the one who she has been not-so-subtlety staring at.

He has jet black hair and despite the fact that he’s obviously filthy rich (perhaps to the point of arrogance) he wears glasses, even when he could get laser eye surgery.

Lily can’t help but observe him, her fingers itching to pen a story about him for class. The way his fingers twitch, and the way he always has to be doing something with his hands, like running them through his hair or tapping on the table, or that he has a handsomely square jaw, and his grin was crooked as he laughs at his friend’s jokes.

Everything about people like him is supposed to be stuffy, posh and fake and stiff. But somehow, the boy and all his friends seem like they are in technicolour, bright and real and genuine.

He looks at her, eyes lighting up as he notices someone walking up to them.

“Ready to order, sirs?” Her voice shakes and she feels a little intimidated, although she will never admit it. People who arrive in Mercedes Benz cars don’t come to Fibonacci’s very often.

“Yes, I’ll take the Fibonacci Specialty Meatballs, and this tosser will have the same,” Jet Black Hair says, gesturing good-naturedly to the one on his left. His hair is long, his eyes a stormy grey, his jaw set. If Lily’s heart wasn’t pounding at the idea of Jet Black Hair, she’d have thought Stormy Grey Eyes attractive. She jots down the order in a scribble, blowing hair out of her face again.

“I’ll have the Carbonara, and another beer,” The next one to speak has curly brown hair, and plays with his fork as he speaks. He wears a worn sweater that looks well loved, yet still somehow well-presented and classy. He has rings under his eyes that implies he is both tired and that he has reading glasses, and Lily likes how he looks, and something about the air Worn Sweater gives off made Lily hope he likes Shakespeare as much as she does.

She writes that down too, ignoring the parts of the order that had smudged due to her left-handedness. She’d remember this order. She knows it.

“I’ll have the Margherita pizza, please miss.” The last boy is pudgy and polite, and Lily feels a warmth in her heart at the thought of a 20-something year old, privileged and dumb, still having those manners.

She smiles and writes them down, biting her lip as she did so. She sees Jet Black Hair glance at her and look away, and Pudgy and Polite sniggers at his friend’s antics.

“They won’t be too long,” Lily announces, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

Stormy Grey Eyes begins a conversation again, and Lily goes back to the kitchens, a strange warmth knotting its way through her stomach. Something about those boys feels new and strange and familiar all at once. Something about them reminds her of what a home should feel like.

She can’t stop thinking of his crooked grin and well-balanced manner as she precariously balances the two bowls of meatballs and the Margherita pizza. Her mind is racing and her pulse is thudding which causes her fingers to tremble as she holds the meatballs.

But then she makes eye contact with him as he turns around, and her knees weaken, and just as she reaches table seven her knees finally give way.

It’s a slow motion masterpiece, really, because she’s trying to save Jet Black Hair’s crotch from Fibonacci’s sauce and the food is flying and Jet Black Hair looks horrified and yet dazed, Stormy Grey Eyes has a disgruntled look because he knows he’ll lose his meatballs, but he can’t contain his amusement that food will end up in his friend’s lap.

Worn Sweater has a snarky look on his face as he sees Lily, because he’s been watching her and Jet Black Hair eye-fuck all night, and maybe now they’ll finally get somewhere, and he gets to watch his friend get covered in meatball sauce.

And Pudgy and Polite, well he just looks mortified at the loss of such marvellous food.

The meatballs make contact with Jet Black Hair, spluttering spectacularly on his white dress pants. Lily’s hair comes undone again, but she does not care, and she’s on her knees wiping up sauce off him as her hair gets caught in her mouth and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m so sorry… sir, I’ll get this cleaned up right away, oh god, um-” Her voice cracks and he knows she’s panicking, but he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never had a beautiful girl spill meatball sauce on him before.

“I’ll give you a whole meal replacement, a refund, oh my- Uh, Sir, give me one second–” He finally looks down at her below him, ignoring his friend’s faces, and puts his hand gently on hers.

“It’s okay, we can just get another one. It’s fine, love.” He doesn’t know why he says it, but he does.

Her heart flutters against her ribs as he says the word, but she’s already on the verge of tears. “I-I’m going to lose my job; I can’t afford this- oh my god-”

James shushes her reassuringly. “I will make sure you don’t.”

He grabs all the napkins off the table and he helps her clear the mess onto a bowl without really thinking. Remus and Pete help without thinking too, but Sirius takes a moment to mourn his meal before joining.

“Why are you being so nice—sir,” She’s stuttering and she doesn’t know what’s going on. The boys at table seven just helped her clean up her own mess without even asking for an explanation. How did people like this exist?

“It’s quite alright, miss,” Pudgy and Polite looks at her and smiles, and she exhales shakily.

“Everyone has bad days,” Worn Sweater adds, smiling at her in a way she can’t help but find endearing.

Stormy Grey Eyes is pretending to look disapproving for a moment, but he cracks and unfolds his arms. “It’s fine, love, but I do want more meatballs. Please.” She likes him, even though she knows she shouldn’t.

Lily laughs with a watery smile as Jet Black Hair stands up and helps her with the dishes. A jolt goes through her as he does so.

“Do you want to meet us after your shift?” He asks quietly, breath hitching in his throat. He knows he shouldn’t be so forward, but he can’t stand never seeing her again. He needs to know her, to understand her.

She scoffs, still shaking, but ready to be nonchalant within a second. “Not a chance.”

His heart shatters for a moment, but he feels a bit of paper slide into his fingertips as he hands her the rest of the plates, and she saunters off.

It’s a small note, smudged and practically engraved into the order paper.

I get off at eleven, Mercedes boy.

Lily finally lets her hair out as the restaurant begins to close and Marlene and Lily make their way out. Lily gathers her things, making sure she has her keys and a phone charger, before making her way out the door, squeezing Marlene in a hug as she walks.

“We’ll do coffee this week!” Marlene shouts as she walks towards her car on the other end of the street.

“I’m free Tuesday!” Lily shouts back, looking for her keys again, before remembering both that she walked and that she was meeting with Jet Black Hair and his friends. Her heart flutters inside her rib cage again, and she doesn’t know how to contain it. He’s leaning on his car, while Stormy Grey Eyes is in the driver’s seat, head back as he takes in a drag of smoke. Worn Sweater and Pudgy and Polite are in the back, talking quietly. Worn Sweater looks a little nervous at the sight of a cigarette.

Jet Black Hair looks up and notices she’s there, jolting and smiling with a crooked grin.

“Ah, hello, I’m James, by the way, I didn’t say that before,” He’s scratching the back of his head awkwardly, then holding out his hand for her to shake, and she takes it as she smiles at him.

“Lily.” His hand is warm in hers, and he feels safe, and Lily doesn’t know what it is, but she already feels so at peace.

“That’s Sirius,” James points at Stormy Grey Eyes, or Sirius, who looks up and his smile is one of the goofiest Lily has ever seen, causing her to giggle, which in turn makes him smile wider.

“I’ll forgive you for losing my meatballs, then,” He scoffs, and Lily nods in thanks. Sirius looks like all the boys her mother told her not to befriend, but Lily looks at his eyes again and realised that in some lights, they look just as sad as hers.

“And Remus,” James gestures to Worn Sweater, concern etching itself onto his face. Lily senses that something is wrong, but she doesn’t press. Remus has picked up a copy of The Merchant of Venice and is now reading it, and Lily’s eyes light up at the sight, and Remus absent-mindedly tussles his curls as he looks up at her, smiling.

“I thought you’d like Shakespeare,” Lily murmurs without thinking, but Remus only laughs.

“That obvious? Are you a Lit Student too?”

Lily nods, feeling warm all through her insides, despite the cold London air. “Yeah.”

Remus nods back, glancing at her hand. “And left-handed,”

She looks at her smudged hand, marks spluttering all the way up her pinkie and down the side of her hand, the ink a combination of poetry writing and studying and orders.

James clears his throat, even though it’s obvious he adores that the pretty waitress who flirts amorously is getting on with his friends.

“And that’s Pete,” Lily looks behind Remus, and Pete looks up her and the widest grin spreads across his face.

“Hello,” he says, looking at her with the brightest eyes. Lily knows he’s a grown 20-something-year-old, she feels like he has a sort of innocence that is hard to lose.

“Your restaurant’s Margherita pizza is amazing by the way,” His eyes are wide and admiring and she’s already a little bit head over heels for all four, but when James looks back at her and gestures for her to climb in the back of the Mercedes, but Lily feels a churning in her stomach. Those boys look so at home in that car, even Remus, reading in the back, is completely at home in the situation.

“You can get in Love- Lily,” James stumbles as he says the words, realising he knows her name now. She climbs into the car next to Remus, who smiles warmly as he helps her in, then they quietly begin to talk about what edition of The Merchant of Venice it is, and James is kicking Sirius out of the driver seat, because he feels too jittery to not drive tonight. He glances back at Pete, who’s in a food coma, Remus, who looks content, and Lily, who looks radiant, before turning the key and pressing his foot to the pedal. He sees Lily’s hair flying in the wind like a glorious messy flag, and he feels that stab in his gut again. He knows it. He’s already in deep and they’re not even at his flat yet.

Lily doesn’t know what to think as he turns the key and opens the door, but she walks in to a house that looks modern, boyish, and there are traces of living everywhere. She’s not even sure why she’s here, all she knows is that James’s flat is perfect.

There’s coffee mugs strewn through the lounge room, and there’s handwriting etched into the wall that says Manchester United rules. “It was Sirius,” James says nonchalantly, following her gaze. Sirius bows and Lily laughs again. “You bloody git,” He snorts. “What team do you go for then, Lily whatever your last name is?”

“It’s Lily Evans, if you must know,” She replies, looking around at the football posters and state of the art furniture that was worn with use.

“And I go for Arsenal,” She states, fingers brushing across the kitchen counter.

“Oh thank god, a good team,” James sighs in relief, glancing at his huge poster of the team, and a blush creeps up Lily’s cheeks.

She collapses on the couch to hide her cheeks and instantly feels warm and at home. She hopes James doesn’t think her rude.

He doesn’t. He’s looking at her like she’s the universe, because she’s a mess and she’s beautiful and she likes him enough to sit comfortable in his house.

She stands up suddenly, walking over to the fridge and pouring herself and the five of them bourbon and coke without even asking them where anything was. His chest explodes.

“So do all four of you live here?” She asks, sipping her drink, enjoying the warmth as it slides down her throat.

“No, just me and Sirius, but these tossers are here so often they may as well.”

“Oh yeah, we have our own drawers of stuff and everything, I think they’ll take the next step and actually ask us to move in any day now,” Remus snorts without missing a beat, and Lily high fives him, dribbling with laughter.

Pete breaks open the family packet of crisps and the five of them sit at the kitchen table, pouring more drinks and talking about anything. Everything. Lily feels loved, these four boys who are obviously closer than anything invited her over even after she spilt meatballs on them.

James feels exhilarated, because Lily Evans, whose name rolls so perfectly off his tongue he wants to sing it, is sitting in his kitchen, all coffee stains and smudged hands, her fingers clasping around her glass as she quips at Sirius, talks writing techniques with Remus, and now even Pete has someone to talk to about his love of cheese with. She fits perfectly, and he wonders why she wasn’t there all along.

He talks about F. Scott Fitzgerald with her, and their conversation about The Great Gatsby is so passionate and filled with equal amounts of flirting and friendship that the others pause to watch the back and forth, the exchange of happiness sparking between the two.

Finally, they’re all drunk and falling asleep, and they’ve moved to the coach, all sprawled out as James and Lily high five over how amazing Arsenal is. He can’t focus on anything but his toes are touching hers and their faces are inches apart and he wants to kiss her there and then, 3:47am on the floor of his flat, but he knows he wants to be sober and clear headed when he kisses this creature.

Lily’s hair is already caught in her mouth and she mumbles “Best sleepover ever,” and James chuckles as Pete, who’s snoring, gentle kicks him.

“Can I write about you?” Her voice echoes through the flat, despite the whispering, and he considers.

“Write about what makes you happy, Evans.”

“You make me happy. The four of you. This is what home should feel like.”

James’s mouth drops. He’s a part of someone’s home. The thought consumes him for a moment, but by the time he’s articulated a response, she’s snoring, fast asleep and definitely more than a little drunk.

It’s 5:24 am when Lily jolts awake at the sound of tears. She’s rigid, terrified of the sound, and stumbles. She almost steps on James, not realising how close together they were, but she doesn’t, tip-toeing around his fingers and putting his glasses on the coffee table, before walking, bleary-eyed, to the bathroom.

Remus is hunched over by the toilet, eyes puffy and skin red, marks across his arms where he’s raked his nails over his skin over and over and over again. Lily bits her lip, and sits with him.


He sniffles, unsure of what to say. This isn’t Lily’s problem. But she’s there and she’s so gentle and loving and she’s so into all of them. She just fits.

“I’m so–sorry Lily, you don’t have to deal with this,”

Lily’s eyes widen with concern and affection as she wraps her arms around his shivering figure.

“What’s wrong?”

“It-It-It’s tomorrow,” Remus stumbles over the words as he tries to speak, but Lily is rubbing his shoulders and she’s so at peace with him that his breathing automatically begins to fall into time with hers.

“What’s tomorrow?” Her eyebrows quirk, she frowns, but her green eyes are still alight, despite the earliness, and Remus thinks that that must be some sort of beautiful.


The word drops through the air and cuts silence, and Lily’s heart stops for a moment. Everything made sense. James’ constant glances. Sirius’s hand shaking as he lit cigarettes. Peter’s shadowing of Remus, cautious. Dinner out at Fibonacci’s beforehand to boost Remus’s mood. Despite the circumstances, she falls in love with the loyalty a little more.

Her mind searches for the cancer that someone young like Remus would have, and it clicks.


He nods, and curls himself further into Lily. She’s safe.

She’s patting his hair, and she knows she shouldn’t think it, but he’s a little bit beautiful right now.

“Remus, you’re going to be alright. We all are. I know it’s going to hurt, and I know it’s not going to feel okay for a long time, but you have wonderful people in your life and they are going to be with you every step of the way. Sirius, Pete, James–” Her mind stumbles as she remembers how close she was to kissing him, but she shakes that thought away.

“They’re going to get you through this. They love you.”

He sits up abruptly. “Come with us,” It feels right.  And now it’s like he needs her there.

“Re-Remus, I- I don’t know, you don’t know me- It-It’s not my place-”

“Lily, I can feel something different when you’re around us. You are the missing part. I don’t care that we didn’t meet until yesterday, I feel like I’ve known you forever,” He says, looking at her with deep brown eyes that Lily can’t refuse.

“I need people who like forever’s right now,” His voice cracks, and Lily sighs, content to stay with him, and they fall asleep on the bathroom floor.

James knows that Remus told her the moment he sees them on the bathmat together. He sees the tear stains. A pang goes through his gut. But this is what he needs to do. This is going to help Remus be okay.

He shakes them awake and the five start getting ready to leave again, because they have to be at the doctors at nine.

Lily looks in the mirror, trying to decide how to make I-went-home-with-four-strangers-and-we-all-got-drunk-and-they’re-all-the-best-people-the-world look good, but she decides it doesn’t matter, because she needs to be there for Remus.

He’s supposed to fast, so he’s just drinking water to sober up a little, and James is throwing clothes left right and centre. Leather jacket to Sirius, wool sweater for Remus, hoodie for Pete.

He hands Lily one of his jumpers, because he sees the ripples of her skin against the cool morning air.

She takes it with a smile, and inhales as she pulls it over her head, and all she can smell is the aroma of James Potter. The name sounds poetic in a way. It smells like the rubber of a football, expensive suits and tasteful colognes, a trace of cigarettes. It smells incredible.

They’re in the car and on their way now, and Remus falls asleep on Sirius’ shoulder as he holds Lily’s hand. Lily and Sirius fall asleep not long after, mouths open, hands all touching.

“James,” Pete says quietly, timidly, his voice jolting James out of worry. He sits in the front seat, because James said it couldn’t be Sirius’ turn again.

“Yeah, Pete?” He mumbles, turning a corner and almost hitting a sign. It’s barely daylight and he needs a coffee.

“He is going to be okay, right?” Pete’s voice shakes, everything is shattering. He can’t lose a friend after just gaining one. Life couldn’t be that cruel. He knew he was less than the others, and Pete wished it could be him and not Remus. Maybe then it would be easier to handle. For his friends.

“I don’t know, mate.” James sighs, and it’s long and sad, because he doesn’t know. He wants to tell Pete that they’ll all be okay, but he knows there’s no point. The world is cruel.

“I hope to anything that watches over us that he will be. And if he’s not, then there’s no fucking god. Because a god would stop Remus John Lupin from dying. A real god would know that Remus needs to be alive.”

Pete looks at James with wide eyes. It’s barely 7 am and his knuckles are white and his face is tight. They all care too much.

He pulls into the hospital and a speed bump jolts the three in the back awake, and Lily’s hair is caught in her mouth again and James can’t help but smile.

She glances at Sirius, who says nothing but “You’re getting the coffee, ginge.” She doesn’t complain. She’s just looking at Remus in concern again, and takes his hand again. He looks tired of life.

The waiting room feels tense and a little too quiet, and as lily places a coffee in each of their hands, except Remus, her fingers skim over James’s, and they’re warm and alive. She doesn’t move her hand, only interlocking her fingers with his before sitting down next to him.

He still has messy jet black hair, and Lily feels a stab in her gut as she looks at him. She’s wanted to kiss him all night, and she’s thought of a million different ways.

But she won’t.

Remus is called and they walk in and Sirius can’t help but grip his friend’s hand as the nurse goes over the procedure. He can’t let his friend be in pain. He can’t.

Remus is blinking back tears as he pulls away from his friends to go into the chemo room, and Lily sobs quietly into Sirius’s chest as he goes.

They gather in the waiting room again, because there’s no way they’re leaving until Remus does.

“What kind of music do you like?” Lily asks into the silence, letting the other three think about it for a moment, all grateful for a distraction.

“Arctic Monkeys,” James and Sirius are in unison, and Lily smiles at them. Of course.

“The 1975,” James says, looking at Lily. She smiles. “Gay for Matty Healy?” She asks Sirius, snapping her neck around, eyebrow quirked.

Sirius scoffs. “He wishes.”

“The Killers,” Lily shoots.

“Panic! At the disco,” James fires.

“Green Day,” Sirius slams.

“The Wombats,” Peter pushes.

The room is loud, it’s only the four, and they finally have something to dull the ache.

“All Time Low,”

“Lana Del Rey,”

“Ed Sheeran,”

“The Lumineers,”


The last voice is Peter’s, echoing through the room, before all four of them burst into giggles.

“What? Shake it off is a classic!” Pete says between breaths of air.

“Players gonna play play play play play…” James begins, hand over his heart.

 “Haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate baby…” Sirius joins in.

Within a moment, the four are singing it together, faces screwed up and voices cracking, but it doesn’t matter, because they’re all together.

The nurse walks back into the room and looks at them, face looking sad and tired. James’ heart thuds, laughter dying in his throat.

“He’s finished. Just be careful, he’s weak,” She says, leading them to where Remus is.

He’s okay. James knows that as soon as he walks in. Remus is tired, sick, but okay. Alive.

A week is passed and Lily and James are walking to his flat after she’s finished her shift. Her coffee with Marlene has meant spilled secrets, particularly the one where Lily wanted to grab James’s face and make out with him.

She’d never tell him that, though.

“So Remus is there, doing okay?” She asks, hands in the pocket of his jumper. James loves how it looks on her.

“Yeah, he’s alright.”

Lily stops at a shop window, her hair bright and her eyes alight.

Her mouth drops at the sight of a red dress in the shop window. One week ago. She thinks. And she still wants it so damn bad.

“’It’s so nice,” Lily mumbles, mouth agape.

“Why don’t you buy it?” James asks, looking down at her, because he’s a foot taller.

“I can’t.” She says, eyes hardening. “I have to pay for uni, and rent and groceries. I don’t have money like you do.”

James want to kick himself. He feels so ignorant.

“Besides,” Lily says, gaze lowering to the cobbled street, “I have nowhere to wear it to.”

She looks so sad as she says it, so he files that dress away in head, imagining how she’d look in it, before grabbing her hand and pulling her down the street.

“Come on,”

Lily laughs, struggling to keep up.

“James,” She says, speeding up again. “Slow down, I have little legs,”

James only grins.

James turns the key in the lock cautiously, not sure of what state Remus will be in.

He hears a sigh of relief from Lily as the door opens and Remus in on the couch talking to Peter, while Sirius yells at the football match. Arsenal vs. Chelsea.

James and Lily make a beeline for the floor, where Peter has a family packet of crisps, digging in.

“What’s the score?” Lily asks, hand unintentionally intertwining with James’ in excitement as she sees her team way ahead. “Take that, Black! Your team is full of tossers.”

They begin a heated argument while the game goes on, and Remus and Pete pause their conversation to watch. James’ pulse rises as he realises that Lily doesn’t have any intention of letting go of his hand soon, and he likes that.

He pauses to look at Remus, who only smiles at him, silently reassuring him that he’s okay. He looks tired but at peace. James breaths out.

“Ha! Potter, your piss-shit team is going down!” Sirius yells as Chelsea scores.

“In your dreams, Black,” Lily drawls as she takes a handful of chips. She thinks about getting a drink, but she doesn’t want to let go of James’ hand.

“Shove off, Evans,” Sirius nudges her, and she pushes back. She laughs and wonders how people can be this good.

“Do you guys want to dinner this week?” James asks as things quieten again.

“We had dinner last week.” Remus says, looking confused.

“I know; I just want to celebrate you getting better.”

Quiet, hopeful laughter ensues and they all agree.

“Let’s make it a special occasion though,” Peter says, winking at James.

Sirius goes into wingman mode, because at this point, Evans and Potter are fucking holding hands, why aren’t they making out yet?

“Yeah, suit and tie, fancy dress,” He says as he takes a swig of beer. “You got a nice dress, Evans?”

Lily looks down, but she’s smiling. “Not yet.”

She’s laughing again, and his heart is in his throat because she gets him. He turns to her as she walks to the room she’s staying in his flat. He’s kicked Pete out and Remus and Pete are sharing a room in the 3-bedroom flat. She’s talking to him about Uni and her courses, work and Marlene, her family and her screaming matches with Petunia, but her eyebrows quirk when she sees a box on the bed. He can’t help but smirk.

“James?” Lily’s eyes are wide and green and bright, and she’s looking at the cream box that is laced in a red ribbon, and she can’t contain the blush or the glee. She races over to the bed, and she feels a pang of regret as she undoes the fancy ribbon, but she looks into the box and tears form as she sees it.

Lacy. Red. Cinches in at the waist. The dress, and she now has both a fancy dress and an occasion to where it to. She’s a flurry of red hair as she whips around and addresses James again.

“Was this you?”

He shrugs. “Call it a birthday gift. Or a present, for helping us so much.”

She frowns, puzzled.

“But I haven’t done anything. I’ve just invaded your house and stolen your alcohol, really,”

He laughs at that, pure and whole, because that is both the truth, and it’s not. She’s more than that.

“No, Evans,” He says, heart rate quickening, throat tightening and breath hitching as he gets closer to her. He looks at her, and she looks like heaven in a human. “You fit. You’re like the piece of the puzzle that we didn’t think we’d need until we met you. It works.”

Lily’s blushing so hard it hurts her head, so she hides in her hair and looks down at the dress in the box again.

“It’s in my size and everything, I–” She breaks off for a moment, unsure of how to express it.

She looks up again, and he’s inches away from her, and she wants to kiss him so badly that an ache grows within her heart.

He’s looking at her lips and he wants nothing more than to feel her skin on his, graze his lips on hers.

But they won’t.

“Thank you,” she breaths, and she backs away slightly, looking back at the dress.

“I’ll wear it tonight.”

She walks downstairs in her dress and she looks like the human embodiment of an arctic monkey’s song. She’s a livewire and James’ jaw drops.

It fits perfectly. Her makeup is immaculate and James’ tux is driving her insane.

The five of them get into the car and the wind messes with her hair a little, pulling bits out of her up do here and there, but all it really does is frame her face, and James just wants to kiss her even more.

They walk into the restaurant, and it’s fancier than Fibonacci’s, polished and prim, and James just tips his hat at the waiter and picks a table, because his parents are friends with the owners.

Sirius is almost as used to it as James, because his only real parents are the Potters anyway.

Remus feels alive and in awe that this is still his life. He’s doing okay.

Pete’s still daydreaming about the food.

(But really, he’s been praying to God every night for Remus to be okay, and he walks into this restaurant, relief telling him it’s alright.)

The waiter winks at Lily unsubtly as she orders the drinks, having already memorized the boy’s orders. Sirius is impressed as he remarks “knew there was a reason we picked you, Evans.” Lily just sticks her tongue out at him.

The food is incredible, the chandeliers are made of gold and crystals and are so pretty Lily wants to cry, and James can’t stop looking at Lily.

(She can’t stop looking at him, either.)

Finally, after a three course meal, the five are full and slightly tipsy, so James locks his car and they decide to walk home.

Pete, Remus and Sirius wander ahead and talk about the city as it’s lit up, but Lily and James stay behind, because she’s short and she walks slower in heels.

“Hurry up, you two!” Sirius yells, even though he’s deliberately leaving them behind so they’ll finally fucking snog.

“Thank you, James.” She says it quietly and simply, as if there’s nothing else to say as she locks her fingers in his, and neither wants to let go, but still afraid to find out what will happen if they don’t let go.

“What for?”

“The dress. For the clothes and the friends and the dinners and for being so perfect. For having perfect friends. For letting me fit… For being my home.”

James is looking at her, and he finally understands what she means.

Home is where your heart is right? Well, James’ heart is hers. (and maybe Sirius’.)

Her breath is on his neck and he’s is on her face and they’re gazing at each other as the lights of London begin to blur.

“Under all this, Evans, you look gorgeous.” He whispers. He can’t ruin it.

Her hand is still in his when she says, “You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.”

“You’ve always looked like heaven, though.”

“You’ve always looked like home.”

And, for whatever reason, that sounds right. It fits.

Their lips finally meet under the streetlights of London and the stars around them glisten. Teeth collide and breaths are shaky and fingers run thought messy hair, and he holds her like she’s glass.

They’re wild for each other, they’re kissing under a city of stars, and Sirius looks behind him and the three boys cheer.

They’re home.

 hope you enjoyed. 

Checkmate ~ Part One

Request from anon: Can you write an imagine where the reader is basically the female version of Ciel (eye patch, fiancé, demon butler, etc) and is The Queen’s Eye In The Sky (she basically takes care of things that slip past the underground aka Ciel’s territory) and Ciel gets intrigued because 1. They’re the same age and her company’s as successful as his. 2. He thinks he spots another pawn to play, but is actually the other player. Lady Elizabeth meets y/n’s fiancé, and Y/N’s fiancé and Lizzy fall for each other and get engaged. People then started talking about how cute Ciel and Y/N would be as a couple, and how powerful a business they’d make if they were to marry. The queen hears about this and forces them to be each other’s betrothed (because these two separately were deadly enough, what’d happen if the guard dog and eye in the sky marry?) and y/n now stays at the Phantomhive Manor and even though they promised strictly business Ciel falls for her anyway and vice versa?

A/N: I wrote this with the idea that Ciel and the reader were around 18 years of age.


“Hmm. What a shame. I thought that the Queen’s mighty Guard Dog would have wrapped this case up by now. Oh well. Hannah, fetch me all the information you can regarding the previous murders. I want to solve this case quickly.”

Strolling through the crime scene, you took in the gory scene of the beaten and bloodied young couple before you.

“Isn’t this a bit of an odd place for a woman of such delicate sensibilities? May I escort you away from this gruesome scene, miss?”

You whipped your head around to see a tall, pale butler with midnight black hair smiling politely down at you, extending his hand in your direction.

Beside him you found a young man, about your age, with blue-black hair and a bright, shining azure eye. The other eye was hidden away beneath a black leather eyepatch and his clothing quite obviously indicated his status as a noble.

“Well, well. Ciel Phantomhive in the flesh? Must be my lucky day.”

A smirk crept across your lips as you kept your eye on him, narrowing your gaze as if to size him up before turning your attention back to the butler.

“You must be Sebastian. Thank you, but I am quite all right where I am. I assure you I disbanded any ‘delicate sensibilities’ I had long ago. Pleasure to make your acquaintance though.”

Curtsying politely, you couldn’t help but hid the amusement in your smile as the pair of them stared at you in a mild state of shock.

“What? You don’t realize who I am?”

A playful giggle escaped your throat ad you stepped closer to the two of them.

“No. Should I?”

Ciel’s tone was as icy cool as the glower he shot in your direction, but it wasn’t nearly enough to wipe the grin from your face.

“Are you certain you don’t know me? Because I’m willing to bet my entire, rather embarrassingly large, fortune that nearly every piece of clothing you’re wearing has my name on it.”

Wearing a proud smirk upon your face, you studied Ciel’s face carefully, watching his expression evolve into one of surprise and then flash with anger. Quickly, he opened up his coat, looking inside to read the label.

“(Y/L/N)? (Y/N)(Y/L/N)? You’re the owner of nearly all the textile factories in England?”

“Yes, all but a few mom-and-pop shops, but not for long. Don’t seem so surprised. What? Were you expecting someone a bit older? More haggish-looking? I may be young, but you’ve more than proven that even us young adults can run a succesful business, haven’t you?”

“What are you playing at? I have no time for games. Why are you here? I believe I have this situation handled.”

“I believe you don’t. Why else would the Queen place me on the case? I get what you can’t handle and then some. You can run off to your next mystery, Sherlock. I have this one under control.”

His glower shifted into a blatant glare as he fiddled with the top of his walking stick, balling his fist around it as he twitched with palpable annoyance. You couldn’t deny it amused you to rile him up; it was so easy.

“Master, shall we find the detectives from Scotland Yard? Perhaps we can gather some new information about the case.”

Sebastian peered down at Ciel, no doubt trying to quell his rage by changing the subject.

“Yes. You go on ahead and do that, Sebastian. That’s an order. I want to have a chat with Lady (Y/N).”

Never taking his eye off you, Ciel took a few slow steps forward as Sebastian bowed before him.

“Yes, my lord.”

As he practically dashed off, the silence settled between you and the young earl. Neither of you wanting to break the tension. You simply sized one another up, each of your singular eye’s locked in the others respective gaze.

“I know who you are, Ciel. I know what he is too.”

“Takes one to know one. What did you sell your soul for? This clothing line? Pathetic. What business have you here? Leave this matter to the Phantomhives.”

“It has been left to you for weeks now; the Queen is impatient, so she called me. The Eye in the Sky. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? And as for my demonic transaction, that’s none of your business, nor will it ever be.”

“You’re a daring one, aren’t you? Good thing my butler and I both make a habit of breaking spirits.”

Ciel’s smirked as he casually walked through the crime scene, scanning over the carnage.

“Daring? Perhaps. I prefer the word confident.”

Striding past him, the back of your fingers brushed against the pockets of his coat as you winked in his direction, boasting a proud smirk on your lips.


Hi everyone, I am interested in doing a photo series that explores the politics of black hair. I am a photographer in the DMV area and I am looking to photograph black men and women. If you are interested please send me a message or email me at


kamiiireru  asked:

Oh my gosh! I wanna know who I match up with! I'm tanned, with black curly hair and brown eyes. I'm 5'5" ft tall. I'm shy and polite to new faces, but after getting to know the person I would blabber nonstop! Im also optimistic and is referred as the mom of my group of friends coz of my caring nature i guess? Lol. I love drawing, playing video games, plants and reading! Also Im a nurse but was suppose to pursue as an oncologist. Also, I much prefer dressing comfortably than dazzling myself up.

I’d match you with Underfell Sans.

Red isn’t used to having someone look out for him–not in the nurturing way that you would.  He often ends up with scrapes of nicks, and he’s always used to leaving them untreated, so looking out for his brother before himself.  He isn’t optimistic in the slightest, but your view will end up rubbing off on him and softening his pessimism.  And while you may be shy at first, Red’ll definitely be the one to loosen you up.  He also cares about comfort more than appearance, so you don’t have to dress to impress him.

*Matches are closed.