A/Ns: So, I've had this particular prompt sitting in a word document for the last six-ish months, just waiting for me to write it. I've been really enjoying writing for these kinds of prompts lately, so I guess that's what inspired me to do this one now. It didn't turn out like I'd originally planned, but it also ended up turning into another somewhat fluffy family fic. I'm not sorry. It was fun to write.
Also, since these prompts are kind of paired, I decided to try and use both of them... It's mostly the first though, even though they're pretty much the same.
Prompt 1: You're colourblind, and I managed to get you glasses that will let you see all the colours, but instead of being amazed, you're just really offended by the colour purple, and you're yelling at me for wearing a purple shirt.
Prompt 2: I'm colourblind, and you gave me these really awesome glasses that let me see colour, and I'm pretending to really hate the colour purple because I want you to take your shirt off. But really, purple is a fucking ugly colour.
The way Bickslow saw the world was different to everyone else. Where everyone saw the brilliant blues, glorious greens, and the radiant reds, Bickslow only saw grey.
Through his eyes, the world was dull, but that was just the way it had always been for him. He'd grown up seeing the world in just shades of white, grey, and black, and so he didn't know it any other way. He didn't know what things were supposed to look like, but he knew that everything had to be a whole lot brighter than what he saw.
The world was full of colour and life, but Bickslow unfortunately couldn't see any of that, and it was because of his magic.
Souls were the only things that weren't in the various shades of grey. They were bright and glowing, but Bickslow had only ever seen them in a few different colours, and even then, he didn't know the names of those colours. All he knew was how they made him feel. Some made him feel warm, others made him feel peaceful and relaxed. Some seemed to draw all of the warmth and light from everything around them, and others just made him happy.
That was the difference between Bickslow and everyone else. Where he saw colour, everyone else saw nothing. But where everyone else saw the bright colours he wished he knew, he only saw grey.
He didn't even know the colour of his daughter's eyes, but Lucy had told him that they were just like his after she'd been born. Even then, though, Bickslow had no idea what that looked like. That was hurt him the most. Until the day Imogen had been born, Bickslow had lived with the knowledge that he would always only be able to see things in greyscale, just because it was something he was never going to be able to change because it was part of who he was as a mage, but after Imogen had been welcomed into the world, Bickslow had wished that things were different for him.
Even to the current day, when Imogen was nearly four and their second daughter was due in just another month, Bickslow still sometimes wished that things were different.
Lucy knew that though. She'd been with Bickslow so long that she knew all about his magic and how his ability to see human souls made it impossible for him to see the world in the same vibrancy that she did, but that didn't change how she felt about him, and it never would.
But as well as she knew that Bickslow had long since accepted that things would never be any different, she also knew that he really did long to see the world in something other than shades of grey. And that was exactly why Lucy was sitting Bickslow down on the lounge that night just after they'd all finished dinner and was handing him a rectangular box the size of her forearm.
Bickslow only stared down at it before looking back to Lucy curiously. "What's this for?" he asked. The over-excited look on her face that matched their daughter's sitting just next to him on the lounge only made Bickslow worry. Neither were as innocent as they seemed, but Bickslow knew that was mostly his fault. Nine years with Lucy only made Bickslow all too aware of just how playful she could be at times. "It's not my birthday or our anniversary," he added. To him, those were the only acceptable times to get actual gifts, even though their anniversary was just a date around the time they'd started dating they'd agreed upon, since neither could actually remember just when he'd asked her out, had their first date, or actually become exclusive. It wasn't exactly like they really celebrated it, either.
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Can I not get you something just because I love you?"
"No."
"Open it, open it, Daddy!"
He turned his attention to the bouncing child next to him and sighed in defeat. He could argue with Lucy for days sometimes, but he couldn't deny Imogen anything. "Fine, fine. I'll open it," he muttered. Bickslow wouldn't have been surprised if he opened it up just to get a face full of streamers or something, but when he did open it, he really was surprised at what was actually in there.
"They're glasses!" Lucy beamed and Bickslow only arched an eyebrow at his long time girlfriend.
"I can see that, Lucy. I'm colour blind, not blind." Bickslow knew that Lucy had been known to be a little ditzy in her pregnancies, and her second was no exception, but come on… He knew what glasses were, and he knew that he did not need them. His eyesight was perfect, considering all things.
"I know that, but these ones," She sat forward from where she was sitting on the edge of the coffee table to gently lift the black frames from the box, then held them up in front of Bickslow to continue, "Will let you see colour."
"Wait, what? How?" That was… That was impossible. His magic made it so. Glasses weren't going to change that, though Bickslow couldn't help but be hopeful. Out of everyone, Lucy would be the one to be able to find a way to give him something so amazing, but some things not even his miraculous cosplayer could achieve.
Lucy smiled and moved the box from his lap to the table. "Well, I started doing some research last year, because I wanted to see if there was maybe something that could be done to let you see colours," Lucy began to explain.
Bickslow frowned and sceptically looked down to the plain black frames in his hands. "You couldn't have found anything though," he said. Thirty odd years on that earth made Bickslow certain of that fact. He'd done his own research, but they all said the same, and what Bickslow knew hadn't changed.
"But I did find something."
"Impossible."
The blonde sighed and rolled her eyes, and Imogen let out a quiet giggle. "And you still underestimate me," Lucy laughed before continuing, "It took a lot of searching, but I eventually came across something about how there used to be some people that could make these kinds of magic glasses. You know, some would be as amazing as being able to allow people to see at all, and others would allow Seith mages to see in colour."
"Okay…"
"The only problems though, were that the family that were known for crafting them were from Sin, and the old advertisement I found in the records was from sixty years ago."
Bickslow scoffed. "Of course."
"But…" Lucy added – she wasn't done yet, and she was almost glad that Bickslow doubted her. "That didn't stop me, so I went to Sin to see if there was anything there."
"You what?! When the hell did you find time to do that?"
Imogen giggled again. "Daddy said a bad word."
"And you did not hear it," he smirked.
Lucy had expected Bickslow to react the way he just had to learning that she'd gone to Sin which wasn't even close to Fiore, and she didn't exactly blame him. She would've reacted the same way if she'd found out Bickslow had decided to take a trip to a country nowhere near their own and she was only finding out six months later. Feeling just a little awkward because she knew Bickslow wasn't exactly going to like knowing that she'd been pregnant with their second at the time, she gave a sheepish smile and rubbed at the back of her neck – a habit she'd picked up from Natsu over the years – and said, "Well, do you remember that job I took just after Halloween when I was gone for a couple weeks?"
Oh, he remembered it well. Three weeks with a three-year-old who missed her mother, and three weeks of trying really hard not to be the annoyingly anxious boyfriend since she'd told him just a month before then that they were having another baby. The only reason Bickslow hadn't tried calling her every single day was because she'd been with Laxus and Juvia so she'd been in perfectly capable hands.
Albeit slightly staticky and slippery hands, but capable hands nonetheless.
"I remember," Bickslow mumbled.
She smiled again. "That was when I went to Sin." So she hadn't really been lying that much, which she didn't like doing. It had been a job, sort of. It had been a job for her Seith mage that he just hadn't known about, and it had been incredibly worth it. Bickslow sighed and dropped his head, and Lucy continued, "But it was worth the trip because the family was still there and they were still making them, so I asked them to make a pair that would allow you to see colour, and they finally got delivered this morning."
"Daddy, put them on!"
He frowned softly when Imogen wedged herself under one of his arms and climbed up to sit on his lap instead. "In a minute, sweetheart," he said softly. Was it bad that Bickslow really wanted the glasses to work? Surely not. Bickslow had wondered so many times just what it would be like to be able to see the colours of everything around him, and he was so close to being able to know what that felt like. But at the same time, he was so far away, because there was a chance that they really wouldn't work.
And that would suck if they didn't, because Lucy had gone to so much effort and trouble to do that for him, and he knew that she'd be disappointed if it all proved to be for naught. Bickslow would be disappointed too, of course, because they really did seem too good to be true, and that was what why he was so hesitant to try them. "You know these might not work, right?" he asked, looking back up to Lucy.
She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. "I know, but it's worth a shot, yeah? You don't have anything to lose, Bix."
Not a single thing to lose. Yeah. Sighing, he finally lifted the glasses up from his lap and carefully put them on. It took a few moments to get his eyes to adjust once he had them on, and he felt an instant strain on them once his vision began to clear up, but as it did, all Bickslow could do was slowly look around the room in amazement.
Everything was just so bright and lively and full of… Well, colour. The colour of the walls, the lounge, the rug beneath his feet – all of it, he could see.
And Imogen's hair, and her eyes - both of which he already knew she'd gotten from him. And Lucy's hair too, and her eyes that he'd heard so much about, and her… Shirt.
He'd been so happy and excited until he'd looked forward to the woman on the coffee table in front of him, looking back at him with eyes full of hope. He had no idea what colour her shirt was, but he hated it.
He'd been able to see actual colour for less than five minutes and he already loathed one.
Seeing him go from the child at heart he was with a look of absolute awe on his face, to seeing him do nothing but stare at her with a slight scowl, Lucy began to worry. "So?"
Bickslow lifted the arm he didn't have around Imogen and pointed to her swollen belly. "What colour is that."
"Purple," Lucy answered, blinking slowly as she tried to figure out what was going on. "You can see that? You can… You can see colours?"
Bickslow nodded, but his eyes stayed trained on the deep colour of her shirt. "I hate it," he mumbled.
"Hate what?"
"Purple. I hate the colour purple." He could recognise that there were a few other things in that room alone that were purple, or at least he thought they were, since they were all just a few shades lighter, and it wasn't exactly like Lucy had ever told him what colours she'd decorated the place in. But Bickslow didn't want to see anything purple. It was just such a disgusting colour and Bickslow didn't understand how Lucy could wear such a thing. "It's gross. I don't like it. Take it off."
Lucy only tilted her head curiously as Bickslow gently lifted Imogen up and off his lap so he could sit back and fold his arms across his chest, all while continuing to glare at her. Lucy knew she wasn't the only one that was confused in the room, because their daughter seemed to be in the same boat, looking between her parents and trying to figure out what was going on.
"Bix, it's a colour. Don't be so dramatic," Lucy laughed as she slowly stood up. Surely he would get over it in time. It was a big adjustment for him, no doubt. Holding her hand out to Imogen, she ignored the pouting Seith mage on the lounge and said, "Come on, Immy. Let's go get into our jammies so we can watch a movie. Daddy can stay out here and sulk."
"Why?" the girl asked as she walked down the hall with her mother.
"Because Daddy is being weird and it's best we don't upset the precious baby when he's in one of his moods, remember?"
"Oi!" Bickslow shouted from the living room. He wasn't being a baby, and he was most certainly not in one of his moods, thank you very much. He wasn't going to deny that he had them, because he did; right then just wasn't one of those moments.
No, he was just feeling slightly offended because his girlfriend was wearing what he was sure was the most horrible colour in all the universes. Unfortunately, though, the giggling from his two favourite girls and from the five souls that had been lazily floating around the living room only proved to offend Bickslow more.
He wasn't being a baby, even if every mortal and immortal being in his home thought otherwise.
He got up from the lounge when his curiosity got the better of him and headed down the hall after looking around the living room and dining area again quickly. Bickslow's first stop was Imogen's room where Lucy was pulling out folded clothes from the drawer for their daughter to put on. But that wasn't what drew his attention – no, that was just part of his everyday life.
It was the colour of the walls.
And the rug.
And the bedspread.
And the pillows.
And still, Lucy's shirt.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he mumbled.
Lucy's head quickly turned to shoot a more than menacing glare over her shoulder. "Bickslow!" He was good with his language most of the time. Sometimes though, he just really wasn't.
"This is disgusting." He turned to look at Imogen as he slowly stepped into the room, his face a mask of disgust as he looked around at everything. "Immy, I don't think I can call you mine anymore. This is… God, this is horrible. I'm in hell right now. Literal hell."
Imogen's eyes began to water and she reached up to tug on Lucy's shirt. "Mummy… Daddy's being weird again," she whimpered.
Lucy rolled her eyes before sending another murderous glare towards the Seith mage. She carefully bent down to pick the girl up, even if she really wasn't supposed to be anymore considering her due date wasn't that far off, then moved her to one arm and the girl's face was turned against her shoulder. Her other arm only forcibly pushed Bickslow back towards the doorframe, and as calmly as she could manage, Lucy said, "I will deal with you later, Bickslow. Get out. Now."
He knew that tone well, though, and Bickslow quickly held up his hands in surrender. He would gladly get out, even if he was definitely going to making a point of coming back without the glasses and apologising to his daughter. He really hadn't meant to make her cry, and he felt really bad for doing so.
But Lucy was no doubt going to give him the serve he deserved in a few minutes, and Bickslow would take it.
Imogen's door slammed behind him and he walked away from the sound of Lucy telling Imogen that Daddy was just having a hard time adjusting to all the new bright and exciting colours, and that he really didn't mean what he said because he loved her very much. So leaving that behind, Bickslow decided to go see what monstrous colours were in their bedroom.
He was pleasantly surprised to see that their bed wasn't purple, and neither were the walls. The sheets were, unfortunately, so those would definitely be having to go. Bickslow stepped into the wardrobe then just beside the door to see just how many purple shirts Lucy owned (and to see how many he'd have to burn), and just about had a heart attack when he saw his clothes that he wore on jobs and missions. The cloak was fine, thankfully, as were the pants and the cloth that went over them.
It was the hood that was the problem. Or more accurately, the fluffy plume that had been on the top of it for years. He was barely able to contain the absolute look of shock and horror on his face as he suddenly shouted, "You let me wear purple?!"
He was truly offended that Lucy had let him wear such a horrible colour for so many years.
"And what's this one?" Lucy pointed to one of the blobs of colour on the page with a smiley face and arms and legs. "Do you remember what this one is called, Immy?"
Imogen stared at the book in front of her before smiling brightly when she remembered the name of it. "Orange!"
"Correct!" Lucy beamed. She turned to Bickslow next to her who was sitting cross-legged and painting his nails black again, and picked up one of the bottles of nail polish from the box in front of him. "Now it's Daddy's turn. What's this one?"
Bickslow sighed in frustration before quickly glancing to the bottle of polish in her hand. He didn't get it as easy to Imogen did. Where she got away with just learning the basics like pink, blue, red, orange, purple, Bickslow had to be more specific. He was a grown man (sometimes), after all. But even if he'd had the glasses for a week now, he was still learning the names of all the colours. He had most of them down by that point, but not all of them. He was fine with learning them too, because he had to, but he hated the way that Lucy was teaching him.
He wasn't nearly four, like Imogen was.
He was nearly thirty-four, thank you very much. Lucy seemed to think he was four though, because she used the same voice she used with their daughter, and Bickslow knew that she got a kick out of being able to treat him like the child he was at heart.
"Mint," he answered eventually.
"Very good!"
She pointed to another colour in the book and asked Imogen what it was, then grabbed a bottle of nail polish and asked Bickslow what it was. Rinse and repeat, over and over again.
"And what about this one, Bix?" she asked when Imogen went to go put her colours book away in her room.
He sighed again and looked to the bottle in her hand, and quickly shook his head. Fucking purple. "I hate you. So much."
"No you don't," Lucy giggled, and she gently poked the tip of his nose just because she knew it annoyed him. "You love me."
Bickslow grinned and quickly leant over so she was caged between the back of the lounge and his arms. "I really don't." He kissed her cheek as she began to giggle almost uncontrollably, then said, "I loathe you." He kissed her other cheek, then, "My life would be so much better without you."
Neither seemed to notice Imogen running back into the room from the hall then, and of course, seeing her parents laughing and cuddling on the floor only made her want to join in. Carefully running through the living room, Imogen began to giggle excitedly over the prospect of same family cuddle time – which she loved, much like everyone else involved – except when she got close, she only found herself tripping over her own feet and landing directly on top of her mother.
Bickslow hadn't even had a chance to remind her to be careful (as he was always having to do in the last few months especially), and he only seemed to remain perfectly still as he watched the blue-haired and red-eyed girl carefully sit up. He looked to Lucy then as he sat up himself and carefully helped her back up too. "Are you alright?"
She held up her hand while continuing to stare down at her other resting atop her belly. As soon as she felt the overly active girl with the fierce kick (that she had most definitely gotten from her, which Lucy took great pleasure in, even if it was a little annoying) shuffle again, she smiled and nodded. "I think so," Lucy said.
Bickslow breathed a sigh of relief as she got up, then slowly made her way over to the kitchen.
"Daddy?"
He looked down to Imogen now sitting on his lap. "Yeah, Immy?"
"Did I hurt Luna?" she asked quietly.
"No, no, sweetheart." Bickslow wrapped his arms around the worried girl and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Of course you didn't," he said. "Luna's fine. We just need to remember to be careful around Mummy because we don't want Luna coming out just yet, okay?"
Imogen nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. She wanted to meet baby Luna, but she knew she'd have to wait just a little bit longer.
"Hey, you know what I haven't done for a while?" Bickslow asked after a moment of just hugging Imogen and giving her the small comfort. She turned to look up at him and he smiled again. "Painted your nails. Do you want me to?"
"Yes, please!" She instantly perked up at that and Bickslow helped her turn so she was facing forwards and was leaning against his chest.
"What colour do you want?"
She reached into the box in front of them on the floor, and after picking up a few of the bottles and then putting them back, she held up a bright purple. "This one!"
Bickslow rolled his eyes, but decided not to comment on it. "Alrighty then," he mumbled. It was his daughter's favourite colour, after all, as he'd found out in the last week. He still hated it though, and all week he'd been trying to convince Lucy to let him burn the sheets and everything else that was purple in their home.
He'd failed, of course.
Two days later, Bickslow was collapsing down onto the bed beside Lucy and doing so carefully to avoid interrupting her nursing their barely forty-eight-hours old daughter, Luna. Of course, Lucy beginning to go into labour that afternoon had been a surprise, but it had been a welcome surprise. Though, trying to explain to Imogen that Luna would be fine and she'd get to meet her baby sister sooner than expected had been a little difficult, but Laxus and Juvia had thankfully handled that and calmed her down when they'd looked after her that night.
But it was two days later, and all was fine. Imogen was asleep in her overly purple room, Luna had been born admittedly a little earlier than anticipated but perfectly healthy, and everyone was enjoying their second night at home with the newest addition to their family.
Well… Most things were fine, because opening his eyes, Bickslow only found that Luna was in a purple onesie.
That, he did not like. He could deal with one daughter loving the colour purple, and he could deal with Lucy having a fondness for it, but he sure as hell wasn't going to survive if Luna ended up loving it, too.
Sighing, he sat up and scowled. "Purple? Really? Are you trying to kill me?"
Lucy gave him a smirk – albeit she was tired and it was lazy, but it was a smirk nonetheless. "Purple is a lovely colour, thank you very much. You never had any problems with the colours I dressed Imogen in when she was a baby," she responded
"That's because I didn't know what colours you were dressing her in. Or what colours I was dressing her in for that matter."
"But now you do, and you're going to get over it."
"Make me."
"Bickslow," she said sternly, gently passing Luna to her father as she readjusted her shirt and got up from the bed. "I do not want three children."
Bickslow pouted, all while trying really hard not to smile because Luna was so adorable and he was so glad that he was able to see the colour of her eyes (which were like Lucy's), unlike he had when Imogen had been born. "I'm not being a baby," he muttered.
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, hun."
He wasn't. He knew that. Luna was the only baby in that house, thank you very much. Well, aside form the immortal babies, but those were a different story entirely.
Knowing that Lucy was going to have a shower before bed, Bickslow waited until he could hear the shower running in the en-suite before he moved. He just couldn't deal with having Luna wearing purple. Carefully, he got up from the bed while keeping the newborn cradled safely in his arms, and silently exited their bedroom to go into the one directly opposite theirs in the hall – Luna's nursery.
"We can't keep you in purple now, can we?" he whispered as he gently laid Luna down on the changing table. "That's just mean. Cosplayer's so mean."
Bickslow reached down to one of the shelves on the station and picked up what he now knew to be a turquoise one with 'OF COURSE I'M CUTE, LOOK AT MY DADDY' on the front of it. Aside from the obvious truth that was printed on it, he had come to quite like shades of blue and green. He also loved the colour burgundy and other shades of red, even if burgundy was just a little purple. That was where he drew the line, though. Down the other end of that was magenta.
Anything between those, he loathed, and with a passion.
He picked Luna back up again and grabbed the purple onesie in his other hand, then made his way out into the kitchen just to shove it in the bin where it belonged. "Ah, all better now."
When Lucy came out of the bathroom with a fluffy purple towel around her and only saw Bickslow lying back with Luna against his chest and wearing a completely different colour to what she'd been in just twenty minutes before, she raised an eyebrow at the innocent smile on his lips. "Turquoise? Really? Is this how it's going to be?" she asked.
Bickslow nodded. "Hell yes, it is."
"Bring it on."
The next few weeks became a game for Bickslow and Lucy. Every time Lucy had her back turned, Bickslow would change Luna into something that wasn't a colour so horrendous, and whenever Bickslow went out, Lucy would enlist Imogen's help (and the babies' help, too, if Bickslow had left them at hope) to search the house to find everything that was purple he'd hidden away and then change her back into something purple.
He'd had to stop throwing the onesies away, unfortunately, but he still hid them. He hadn't learned that Lucy always knew to look to in places she couldn't ordinarily reach, so it worked well for Lucy that he hadn't moved his hiding place.
For the most part though, Lucy just played nice. She did, of course, let Cancer dye the tips of her shoulder length hair violet, and she made a point of making sure the placemats at the dining table were purple, along with the cushions on the lounge and the sheets on the bed, but she never did anything grand. The small things annoyed Bickslow enough.
But that wasn't to say that Lucy wasn't going to take their little game to the next level, because she really was. Nearly a decade with the man had awakened the evil genius she was inside, and Bickslow knew that all too well.
Lucy saved the first of her big plays to the day they took Luna to the guild for the first time. Being a month old, those that hadn't already met her were dying to do so, and Lucy was dying to get out of the house, so it was a win for everyone. Well, it wasn't a win for Bickslow, but he didn't know that yet.
It began when they separated in the guild – Bickslow took Imogen over to talk to Evergreen and Freed, and Lucy stayed with Luna and talked to… Well, everyone else. It had been a great day in all for Bickslow so far, but when it suddenly began pouring rain, his day turned completely upside down.
In a matter of seconds, Bickslow was completely drenched. His clothes stuck to him, his glasses were covered and dripping, and his hair was in his eyes. He lifted a hand to push it all back, and he looked up to figure out just how the fuck it was raining in the guild. As soon as he noticed that the rain was in various shades of purple, he got his answer.
Juvia.
As expected, he turned to see the woman smiling and waving at him and holding her eighteen-month old son against her hip, Laxus snickering next to her, and then Lucy and Luna just next to them. He didn't need to ask or say anything else at all to know that it was all Lucy's doing and was just part of their game, and Bickslow was just going to have to figure out how he could get her back.
It was just at that moment that Bickslow was regretting his decision to let Lucy name Juvia and Laxus as Imogen's godparents.
It was when Luna was three months old when Lucy made her second, and hopefully final, big play. The changing war was still going on, and there were still a few things in the house that Bickslow hated because they were purple, but he'd mostly given up by that point. Everyone knew he loathed the colour and all shades and versions of it, and people still did tease him about it (and he'd only ever tell them to go fuck themselves when they did, or if Imogen was around, he would kindly go tell them to fuck themselves), but he was getting over it.
He'd just come to slowly accept that he couldn't just remove an entire colour from his life, as much as he wanted to.
Lucy's plan went into action when he took a job with Evergreen and Freed. It was just a short one meaning he'd only be gone for one night (he never liked being away from his family for too long, which Lucy quite enjoyed because she missed him when he was gone), but it was enough time for Lucy to make their entire house purple. She'd had help, of course. Virgo and Loke were all too happy to help, along with Juvia and Laxus, and even Mavis, of course, because they all just really liked messing with the Seith mage.
What could they say? After years of putting up with his antics, it was time to get some much deserved payback. So they made everything purple, including the walls and the floors.
All of it could be undone, of course, because most of it was just a case of undoing a few illusions. Everything else was just a matter of taking off covers or changing things out again. And when the next day came around, everyone was just acting like nothing was out of the ordinary.
So when Bickslow opened the front door just before noon that day, he had to rub his eyes to make sure he was seeing things correctly and it wasn't just the glasses playing up.
Everything – absolutely everything – was purple.
The walls, the wooden floors, the books on the bookshelf, the rug, coffee table, dining table, lounge, pillows, curtains. The goddamn kitchen was purple, too. There was even a blond Dragon Slayer on his lounge wearing his famed purple shirt and drinking purple tea, too.
There was so many different shades of purple in the one room that it was making his head hurt, and seeing Lucy with her devious smirk on the armchair with Luna on her lap just had Bickslow shaking his head and sighing in defeat. He could deal with Imogen's room being purple because it was her favourite colour, and he could deal with Lucy wearing the odd purple shirt or dressing Luna in the odd lavender onesie, but he couldn't deal with a purple house.
Or more accurately, he didn't want to deal with it.
Moving into the room and closing the door behind him, Bickslow only pulled his glasses off and carefully put them in a pocket of his cloak. "I give up. You win," he sighed. He couldn't play that game anymore. He knew he had no hope in hell of winning against the Queen herself. So as he made his way down the hall and to the bedroom he just assumed would be as purple as everything else, Lucy only cheered victoriously as she held up Luna, Laxus high-fived his favourite niece/god-daughter, and Juvia and Mavis laughed happily as the First Master had already begun taking down her illusions.
As much as Bickslow loved being able to see the colours of the world though, sometimes, things were just better when they were in greyscale.
A/Ns: So yeah. Second half didn't quite end up how I'd planned, but oh well. I wanted more of the Bix/Juvia friendship, but it didn't happen.
Also, yes. If you follow me on tumblr, you'll know that I recently started shipping Bix x Juvia (Bixuvia). It's a thing, okay, and it's happening. I haven't come across any stories for them, so I have two currently planned. One is actually in the MidKino/CoLu universe (yes, I'm adding a third to that world. It was going to happen anyway, but I'm just adding another ship), and another is just... Something random. I just need to write them because they're precious.
Anyway. I hope you liked this! Reviews are always appreciated, if you ever feel inclined to leave one.
Also, I do just want to add, I do in fact know that colourblindness (any form) does not actually mean completely colourblind. For the sake of THIS story though, that is what Bix is, because it's directly caused by his magic. So before anyone decides to comment on that, I would just like to say that I know this is not a real medical issue.
Until next time!
- April
(And yes, I'm still procrastinating and avoiding my uni work, in case it wasn't obvious enough.)