#Catherine in a sundress

[dandygoblin]

Cat in that sundress cause she should wear them more.

Like imagine becoming one of the most powerful people ever and you can't even wear your favoured clothes (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

[lasudio]

VeronaHills, Round Six: Hart

Candy clicked the front door behind her and made a beeline for the amorous novel on the bookshelf. She slipped out the red velvet bookmark and reoriented herself in the romance.

A very stunning, very available single woman on a solo trip to the city was Candy's own story, but the finer details were more grit than glamour. For one, she had visited a private specialist. She'd had an abortion. She'd had many feelings about it; shed tears that ran the gamut between relief and the thought of what could have been. But it was not to be. She was sure about that.

The novel's lovers were eloping on the gentleman's private island in the tropics. He wore linen trousers and nothing else. The lady allowed her thin sundress straps to slip down her shoulders.

Candy curled up and followed the narrative with great interest.

Rhett - not one to read - chased another dream. He'd fumbled the ball with fiery hot muso Roxie Sharpe when he broke down crying about missing his mother (thankfully she didn't seem to notice, being entranced by her own basslines). And while he couldn't quite keep up with Catherine Viejo on the ice rink, he more than surpassed the bar in bed with her. He felt blessed by the love gods with the gorgeous women of Riverblossom Hills. Who was next, he wondered...

[shions-new-blog-of-stuff]

"When I Needed You the Most"

Canon x OC, Injuries Warning

Leon lay in the hospital bed, looking out the window. The sun shone brightly.

For once, the mission was a success. Leon suffered a broken leg but he didn't mind. He had saved the lives of those people trapped in the office building, and that was good enough for him. Having the time off to recover felt like a breath of fresh air. He wasn't going on any more assignments anytime soon.

Leon looked up to see a nurse enter the room. She was smiling as she handed him the clipboard with the form for choosing what he wanted to eat that day.

"Mr. Kennedy, someone's here to see you," the nurse said when Leon handed the clipboard back to her. She nods and leaves the room.

Leon was taken aback when Catherine walked in, wearing a pink sundress and sun hat. Catherine held a bouquet of flowers in one arm and a box of chocolates on the other. Her hair was tied in a long, fat braid.

"Cath...you..." Leon began, watching Catherine set the gifts on his bedside table.

Catherine smiles warmly and kisses his forehead before sitting by his bed.

"I flew out here as soon as I heard what happened. Had to go through a lot of security," Catherine replied, "But it's all worth it to see you, Lee."

Leon sat up to hug her, which she returned.

"It's a nice surprise..." Leon whispers, burying his head in her shoulder.

Catherine sighs in relief, "I'm glad you made it out."

"Yeah...Had to. So I could see you again," Leon pulls away and smirks, "Can't kick the bucket just yet. I still haven't had poached eggs made by you."

Catherine tilts her head and chuckles, "Oh you."

@squashfics @mishwanders @tradgothprompto @the-resident-vampire @lex-the-flex @notrattus

[devouredher]

♡ wanted plot: bored housewife watching you fu.ck your s.o ♡ potential connections: (step)son/daughter, niece/nephew, son/daughter’s gf/bf/spouse, neighbour, other f.ucked up connections. ♡ alt. muse: astrid, catherine, genevieve. ♡ written with legacy editor / beta users: reply on a new post and tag me.

it wasn’t the first time she has watched them fu.ck their significant other. the first time it happened, it was by complete accident. she had been mortified-- couldn’t face them for days. after awhile, she kept ‘stumbling’ in on them during their most intimate moments. but each time, she stayed a little too long to watch them fu.ck the other. subconsciously she was starting to do it purpose. des.perate to fantasize it was her being fuc.ked instead. today, she got home a little early from the farmers market. a normal routine for her during saturday mornings. it is probably the reason why the couple felt no need to hide, thinking they were home alone. diana forced herself to step away from the large window. but after awhile, she found herself getting on top of the kitchen island to get a better view as she fuc.ked herself with a rather long and thick eggplant. she had pulled the tops of her sundress down to release and play with her heavy bre.asts. her legs spread wide as her feet-- still in her heels-- were planted on the counter. her movements where slow but the faster they fuc.ked their significant other, the faster she fu.cked herself with the vegetable. 

[ascinfocus]

Sexual assault victim describes her complicated healing process

A 23-year-old victim of sexual assault speaks to In Focus' Catherine Frasier about the incredibly complex process of healing from her trauma

Story by Catherine Frasier Produced by Amanda Palmer & Holly Mitchell

According to the 2015 National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey or NISVS, nearly 44 percent of women in the United States have experienced sexual violence during their lifetime. Many survivors do not report their experience to authorities, going silent about it for years, even decades after it happened. The stigma is still prevalent in today's society—they asked for it, they were drunk, they were unconscious and were left with no choice. Oftentimes, victims think they are to be blamed for what happened. Others don't recognize the severity of being sexually assaulted. But when somebody’s agency is taken away, how does one come to terms with the fact years after it happened? One such victim gave us a glimpse to find out.

Ellie: The last time it happened, I was in my brother's room, wearing this Barbie sundress that I've had since I was twelve and just an underwear, watching TV. Then my father came in, got on top of me, pinned me down. I tried to fight back, I screamed, but I was having a hard time getting out. Then I heard footsteps, loud footsteps, and there was my mom, staring at us horrified.

Ellie was a teenager when she was sexually assaulted by her father. She requested us to hide her identity for fear of reprisals.

Catherine Frasier: And how did you feel about that?

Ellie: I don't know. I don't remember. I think I just laid there frozen.

Ellie thought it would be a fun exercise to describe her own assault for an assignment on a major subject. She never thought that it would change her life forever.

Ellie: I think it was such a reckless decision on my part. But when I asked my professor if he'd be fine with it and he reacted with so much grace about it, I felt like it would be fine to finally go into detail about it.

Frasier: That was the first time you ever told everything?Ellie: Correct.

Frasier: Were you able to tell it in the article, that what happened was an assault?

Ellie: I couldn’t really grasp the difference between sexual harassment, sexual abuse and sexual assault. I think it was only after consulting a therapist that things finally became clear to me.

Before she decided to consult a therapist, Ellie suffered from two panic attacks: one in her next class, and the other during her midterm exams, her worst one yet.

Ellie: My steps just felt heavy coming into our building, and I've forgotten the things I reviewed for that exam. I just felt like I was in this quest for survival. It was so hard, seeing myself so distressed. I couldn't ask for help, or to even get out because I was sitting in the very back of the room.

Ellie decided to seek answers for her questions. She was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Frasier: When that diagnosis first came to you, how did you feel?

Ellie: Like I finally have answers to my questions.

Frasier: Did it end there?

Ellie: I think it was the first time that I ever had to confront what… you know, what really happened.

Frasier: What do you mean?

Ellie: I think I’ve repressed that… that memory in my head.

Frasier: And when you wrote that article, it brought back everything for you?

Ellie: Correct.

Paula Davis: Most victims of sexual assault that come to us really have a hard time processing what happened to them. They’re afraid that people would not believe them, or question their version of events.

Paula Davis is a psychologist at Liberty Mercy Hospital in Brooklyn. She specializes in trauma-informed care and somatic therapy.

Frasier: Does it depend on the experience or the person you’re talking to?

Davis: It’s a case-to-case basis, really.

For the past fifteen years, Davis has been seeing victims of traumatic experiences, most of them sexual assault and rape victims.

Frasier: What is the most common thing you see with these people?

Davis: They would often have flashbacks, nightmares, anxiety, intense feelings of anger, sadness, guilt. Some of them have a hard time processing things, so they would withdraw. They question who they are as a person. I don’t think there is an umbrella for what they feel coming into my office.

Frasier: What was the biggest challenge you faced coming to terms with your experience?

Ellie: The guilt.

Frasier: Why is that?

Ellie: It’s just… it feels wrong, you know?

Frasier: Why do you feel wrong?

Ellie: I don’t know. I wish I could’ve… done better, you know? I mean, I know that I shouldn’t feel this way. People will tell me that I don’t deserve any of this, that it’s not my fault.

Frasier: But it never goes away.

Ellie: It never does. If it did, it would be a million times easier.Ellie’s struggle can be sensed throughout our interview—her fidgeting hands, uneasy body language, and especially the disguise she decided to don—a hoodie and cap that tries to hide that internal conflict that comes with being a victim of sexual assault.

Frasier: Do you consider yourself a survivor of sexual assault?

Ellie: I don't know, I think I've always identified myself as a victim of sexual assault, rather than a survivor. Although I did survive it, but I just feel like the word victim is... It's just so definitive to me, like, something ended, you know? It doesn’t register to me at all.

Frasier: Is there something about that word that feels too distant or hard to connect with for you right now?

Ellie: I just feel like there's a disconnect. Like, how did I survive? Maybe it’s just some kind of a self-sabotage tactic, but I just feel disconnected to it, you know? It happened so many times that I couldn't even register it at the time, even though I already knew what it means, but, like, having experienced it myself, like, why couldn't I apply the things that I learned? Watching all these people get interviewed about their experiences, and I couldn't apply them to myself? It’s the irony of knowing about it and just not being able to apply it, you know.

Frasier: Is that why you’re so apprehensive about coming forward?

Ellie: Yeah, I think part of it is... is because of the emotion, like, surrounding such an experience. Like, I don't think it qualifies me... to be a person that could speak up about this issue, you know. And I'm still scared, like... sure, I don't feel as much about it. It's just... Like, just the fear of judgment, of the fact that I wouldn’t be believed because I don't feel... much emotion when I talk about it. It's just very, you know, like... I'm just really afraid that... people would come after me for not feeling so strongly about this whole situation. It makes me feel so guilty, and ashamed of what happened.

Victims of sexual assault may also have a hard time disclosing if the perpetrator is known to them. The closer the relationship is between the victim and perpetrator, the less likely somebody reports that they have been sexually assaulted or raped. Familial relationships with the assailant can also contribute to what research calls a delayed disclosure, like in Ellie’s case.

Davis: I’ve personally seen patients that had family members assault them, or someone they know. They don’t understand the reasons why these people would do something so traumatizing, and at times, it makes things harder for the person to lay things bare.

Frasier: How long do you think it takes for someone to disclose that they have been sexually assaulted?

Davis: A long time.

Frasier: And why does it take so long for that disclosure to happen?

Davis: There is still a heavy stigma surrounding these cases. These people are already facing the preconceived notions that they should’ve fought back, or like they must’ve enjoyed what happened to them. Some are propagated by external factors, like threats or blackmailing. And it’s never easy to address every form of sexual assault.

Most victims of sexual assault do not disclose their experience to somebody, or if they do, it takes them until adulthood, as is the case for victims of childhood sexual abuse or CSA. Research shows that over 70% of victims do not disclose within five years after the abuse happened. Some never do it at all.

Frasier: How do you think you would feel if someone did acknowledge your experience directly?

Ellie: I would honestly see it a little bit better if they acknowledged that. Because, you know, like, something so tragic happens to you and no one acknowledges that. I already know how it feels that no one believes what happened to me. I just want to be… seen, you know. Because this whole thing makes you feel invisible and isolated.

Frasier: Do you think that the time would come where you finally feel comfortable putting your name out there?

Ellie: I don’t know, honestly. I've always wanted to hide from like the rest of the world. I don't want people to know what happened to me, but at the same time I want to let people know what happened to me. But I just don't want the experience to be attributed to me. You know, like, I just feel like if I talk about it, I don't want to put my face out there, put my name out there. Maybe someday, I would. It’s such a complicated process, all of this. do think that the day would come where I would feel ready to come forward, you know, and reclaim that story myself. But I don't think I would probably be ready for that. I just find it hard to embrace this journey. It's such a confusing feeling to have. I am still coming to terms with things, and I just hope that the day would come and I would feel better talking about it, and, you know, people would believe my story a little more.

[fentonsellsflorida]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Catherine Malandrino- Girl's Yellow Floral Sundress, Sz 18 M.

[lialacleaf]

The Spartan and His Pyro- Confession Part 1 - Master Chief x OC

Sometimes a dream is a house on a hill~

If one moment could change the course of your entire life, should you not make sure to make every moment count?

She’d pictured it so many times as a little girl. What her parents would have been like, what she would have been like. They’d have lived in a small house on a grassy hill, and she’d have spent her afternoons running through the tall grass in a white sundress, picking the purple wildflowers that would litter their yard. Maybe they’d have a farm, and she’d feed the cows and the horses in her father’s mucking boots. 

Catherine ignored the metallic taste in her mouth as she coughed up scarlet red. Bodies littered the battlefield, some human, some alien. The scent of charred bodies, some singed from plasma, others from her own flames, wafted in the air.

Her left leg was broken, and her chest burned from the exertion she’d put herself through. She stared up at the sky and pretended she was watching the sun setting in an open field. 

She’d have been like Anne, the princess of her very own Green Gables. Her mother would have baked bread from scratch. Her father would have been a stoic, kind-hearted farmer. 

These whimsical dreams, the places she read in books, were where she went when the horrors of reality were too much. It was what she’d done in the orphanage, it was how she’d survived Halsey’s experiments. It was all she knew, even as an adult on the front lines. Pleasant dreams of a family she would have had if she hadn’t been abandoned. 

~

It had become a problem the longer she fought on the front lines. Maladaptive daydreaming was what they called it. She had argued that it comforted her, that it made it easier to handle the harsh reality she lived in. But little by little, it had become easier to live in the world she’d made up in her head than the one right in front of her. 

She hadn’t seen a problem with it, at least not until she’d woken up from a nightmare one night, and found herself wandering the hallways of a starship looking for a father that didn’t exist. She’d made it four corridors before she’d remembered that her family, her perfect home on a hill, was nothing more than the product of her imagination. 

That had been when she stifled the pretty dream. Locked it away and threw away the proverbial key. Losing imaginary parents wasn’t supposed to hurt as much as losing her real ones, but a lot of things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. 

She didn’t have any maladaptive daydreams after that, at least not until…

“You look exhausted, you should get some sleep,” John’s voice rumbled as he sat on the edge of her bed. She’d been sitting with her knees up to her chest for over an hour, unable to fall asleep after their latest mission. 

“I don’t feel like going to sleep right now,” she murmured, and the Spartan frowned softly at her, worry etched on his face. 

“Then I’ll sit with you.” His body was warm, freshly showered and sporting a clean pair of fatigues. He slid under the covers beside her, pulling her smaller frame into his lap, just like he’d done in that freezing cave. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” He left no room for argument, and she let her head fall down on his shoulder, listening to the beating heart in his chest-

“Cath! Earth to redhead!” Catherine blinked in surprise, the scene fading away from her mind’s eye as Fred waved a hand in front of her face. 

“What?” She looked around Blue Team’s bunk to see four concerned gazes trained on her. 

“You were gone. Checked out. Mentally gone to space.” Fred listed, and Catherine realized with flushed cheeks that she’d been imagining another cuddle session with…with the Chief. 

“Oh, I- sorry. Did I miss something?” she asked, feeling rather flustered that she’d been gazing off into oblivion, somehow convincing herself that in some warped universe John had voluntarily crawled into her bed. She felt her face flush at the thought. It sounded so much dirtier when she phrased it like that. 

“We’re docking with the Infinity in the morning. Headed straight for Lasky and Palmer to deliver a mission report.” Kelly said. Catherine met her stare, and the brunette Spartan raised a brow. 

Don’t look at John, don’t look at John. 

The redhead’s gaze flashed towards their team leader, and she nearly smacked herself as a shit-eating grin broke out on Kelly’s face. She didn’t know why, but she knew something concerning her little infatuation was the cause of her distracted state. 

Catherine would have sworn if the rest of her team hadn’t been present. If Kelly hadn’t read her stupid letters, she wouldn’t have to worry that the Spartan would somehow reveal her secret to the rest of the group. Hell, if she hadn’t written those letters in the first place, no one would ever have known. 

~

At first, she simply allowed them to come. Little sparks of imagination here and there. How would John react if she were injured? Would he carry her back to the Infinity and stay by her bedside?

What would he do if she painted him a picture, or baked him a pie? Her daydreams became more embarrassingly domestic as the days rushed by. She nearly lost her head to an elite’s energy sword because of the distraction, but she couldn’t help the curiosity from settling in. Would he blush? Was he even capable of that sort of thing? 

He was always so stoic, except in the few private moments they’d had. Come to think of it, she got the most out of him when it was just the two of them. 

Her mind couldn’t help but race back to all the times it’d been just the two of them, and how close she had been to him. She never saw anyone else that close to him. Why was that?

Catherine shook the thoughts from her head as she poked the mound of vegetables on her plate, unaware that four Spartans had seated themselves around her until a foot connected with her leg under the table. 

Catherine’s head shot up, her eyes locking with Kelly’s. “Well, Cath? Join us for a spar?” Kelly looked at her rather expectantly and Catherine’s eyes darted around the table. The Chief was looking rather expectant, as if he’d been the one to voice the suggestion first. 

“Uh, yeah. I could use a spar actually.”

~

Catherine felt ridiculous. She tapped her foot anxiously as she stood outside one of the private rooms on the S-Deck. Was she going to be laughed at? No, the individual inside would never laugh at her. Judge her maybe, with that penetrating stare, but not laugh. 

With a deep inhalation, Catherine knocked softly on the door, and waited patiently for it to slide open. 

The metal slid open to reveal Linda 058, clad in a pair of fresh sweatpants, her auburn hair damp from her post workout shower.

“I need your help,” Catherine said, quickly brushing past the Spartan and into her quarters. 

“For once you’ve come to me instead of Kelly?” If Catherine didn’t know any better, she’d say Linda almost sounded…perturbed with her. 

“I…I didn’t want to bother you,” Catherine said, toying with her fingers. 

Linda let out a deep sigh, before seating herself on a round, purple rug on the floor of her room. It was the only stylistic decoration to be seen. “You are never a bother, Catherine, you are family.” 

“Yeah, speaking of family, I have a little problem-”

“I assume you’re referring to your infatuation with John?”

Catherine felt her cheeks warm as she blinked in surprise. “How…how do you know about that?” she asked. 

“Because I have watched, and I have listened.” The slightest of smiles formed on her face, and Catherine felt her jaw go slack. “He speaks very fondly of you. Of the time he spends in your presence, and of the confusion some of your actions bring him. He does not see what the rest of us do, or rather he is afraid to.”

Catherine bit her lip thoughtfully as she contemplated the words. What did the Chief have to be afraid of? She was his friend. And yet, here she sat, afraid to speak openly with him. Maybe there was more to be afraid of than she realized. 

“You were about to tell me about your problem?” Linda urged. 

Catherin swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yeah, that,” she began. “I...keep getting distracted. It’s like I have no control over my thoughts, and they’re constantly spinning up these fake scenarios. They’re pleasant…and addictive. I figured since you're so into meditation and all that you might have some ideas.”

Linda nodded thoughtfully, folding her hands in her lap. “The best way to quiet the mind is to understand it. Picture your brain as two people. Your adolescent self, and your adult self. Both are present, but have different needs. The adult side is a product of the development of the child side.”

“You're saying I’m having daydreams because I have the psyche of a schoolgirl?”

Linda let out a huff that was almost a laugh. “I’m saying these daydreams stem from a need you feel is unmet. What exactly is it you find yourself imagining?”

Catherine felt her cheeks flush even more. Linda wouldn’t laugh at her. Her green eyes met Linda’s hazel gaze. But would she judge her? “I picture a house on a hill.” Her throat felt incredibly dry. “We’d have a dog, and a couch in front of the fireplace. I’d sit in his lap and read, or he would watch me paint. I used to imagine the same scenario with my parents when I was younger. My very own Green Gables like the books I used to get lost in,” she mumbled, feeling her eyes become misty. 

Linda’s gaze almost seemed to soften. “Catherine…John wasn’t made for a civilian life-”

“I know! Ok? I know he’s the Spartan, and the UNSC needs him, and they’ll probably always need him-” There would always be someone that needed him. That needed the Master Chief. “But being close to him feels…right. Even if we could never share a life together. But none of that even matters. We’re just friends. He doesn’t have time for…feelings. At least not mine,” she said with a bitter laugh. 

“You misunderstand me,” Linda said, shaking her head. “I don’t doubt John’s ability to be a good partner. This picture you have in your mind, it’s a metaphor. You want John to be a home.”

A home. Something she’d been looking for since she was a little girl. “A…a home? I mean, Blue Team is my family-”

“This is different, Catherine.” The auburn haired spartan gently placed a hand on her knee. “The best thing you can do is be honest with yourself, and John for that matter.”

“What if I make things uncomfortable? It wouldn’t be fair to the team.”

Linda simply shrugged in response. “It’s your life Catherine. You can live in a fantasy if you want, but you have a perfectly good life in front of you that could be a pleasant reality. The fact of the matter is you have to work for anything that’s real.”

Real. John was real. He was there, solid, tangible. Her parents weren’t. She may never have a house on a hill with them, but she could have a home with John. If that was what he wanted. She just wasn’t sure if it was. 

[scuttle-buttle]

Tan Lines

Beyond the Checkered Flag series

WC: 685

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: nudity, implied sexual content

A/N: yeah so i realized there is a terrible accidental pun about Niki getting sunburnt so please forgive meee

☀️

You sink your toes in the sand and toss your head towards the sky. The blazing Ibiza sun warms you to your core. Beside you Niki places your towels and bag on the ground. He wasn’t a huge fan of the beach, sand gets where it shouldn’t he’d say, but he went because you wanted a vacation.

Laying out your towel next to his, you pull out a bottle of sunscreen. You aren’t so concerned with yourself, but your husband is pale and gets sunburnt easily. He removes his shirt; you pull off your sundress to reveal the bikini underneath. Motioning for him to come over, you slather it on him in globs.

“A bit much?”

“I don’t want to hear you whining when you burn, Niki,” you laugh. He knows you’re right.

You hand him the bottle and face away. “Don't forget to put it under the straps, too.” The cool lotion hits your skin where his strong hands begin to massage it in.

Tugging the skinny strap tied around your back, Niki asks “when did you buy this?”

“Why? You don’t like it? It's all the rage,” you toss over your shoulder. He doesn’t answer. Instead, his finger traces down your spine to the top of your swim bottoms. I’ll take that as a yes. Niki can’t see your smirk. When he finishes you kiss his mismatched lips in thanks.

You take a moment to really take in the sea and sand and people around you. Niki has already laid on his towel, his aviators blocking the sun from his chocolate eyes. The beach is not packed by any means, but you notice several women that are sunbathing without their tops on.

Elena had once mentioned that she herself would remove her covering sometimes - no tan lines, you should try it, Catherine!

When in Rome, or Ibiza, you suppose with a shrug.

Laying on your stomach, you adjust until you get comfortable. You glance at your husband, but he isn’t paying you any mind. Reaching back you untie the scraps of fabric that hold your top in place around your neck and back. The sound of waves crashing lulls you into a dazed state.

After some time the heat against your back becomes too much. Rolling over, you pull the loosened covering off your breasts and drape it over the bag you brought. Normally you were not this brave. Going topless in public? Even during your sex-drugs-rock’n’roll phase you had kept your clothes on. You sigh, content as the sun warms your nipples, the cooler ocean breeze causing them to peak.

Niki has apparently finally noticed your clothing, or lack of, rather, “what the hell are you doing?”

You crack an eye at him. He is sitting up, staring down at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Hmm?”

“Where is your top? Everyone can see you.” His gaze flits around as if looking for a culprit.

“It’s not like it covered much anyway.” You aren’t wrong, the skimpy bikini only just covered your breasts. “Besides, I don’t want tan lines.”

“Catherine.” He sounds positively exasperated.

You match his tone “Niki.” Opening your eyes fully to look at him, you see he is still watching you with an intense expression. “Are you jealous Niki?” He narrows his eyes at you. Niki wasn't usually a possessive man, but Christ you loved it when he got this way. “Don’t worry, my love, I only want you.”

Finally tearing his eyes from you he brings one leg up, bent at the knee. The opposing arm lowers to rest on his hips. The look on his face is somewhere between sour and the way he looks at you in the bedroom. Or the garage…. or shower... the kitchen… backseat of his sedan…. you bite your lip at the thought.

You look down to his arm. The not-so-subtle bulge in his swim trunks is obvious. Oh.

As much fun as it would be to tease him, you can feel your own growing need. You sit up. “I think I’ve had enough sand for today. How about we head to the hotel?”

Niki is standing with your bag packed, his shirt pulled over you, and his hand grabbing yours before you’ve even finished your sentence.

Tag list: @ay0nha @apparrio @livvyshmiv @fictionlandslanddreams @vinylrosess @typical-bistander @ntlmundy @mymagicsuitcase @anteroom-of-death @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lieutenantn @multiversemarielle @trashbin2 @whatawildone @metalbreakfast @laura-naruto-fan1998 @greeneyedblondie44 @godidontevenknowwhat @marchingicenotes7 @loliissmut

[bewitchingbaker]

𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽  /   𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴   𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚂 .   bold   what   applies   to   your   character  

Tagged by: @escapedartgeek​​

Tagging:  @crystalpower @finalsurvivorgrp​ (Catherine) @carterhotels​ (CJ) @siiinfully​ (Harper/any muse)

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 .

long legs   /     short legs     /   average legs   /    slender thighs  /     thick thighs     /   muscular thighs  /     skinny arms    /   soft arms       /   average arms   /   muscular arms  /    toned stomach   /     flat stomach  /     flabby stomach     /   soft stomach  /     six pack    /     beer belly     /   lean frame  /    muscular frame   /     voluptuous frame     /     petite frame     /     lanky frame     /     short nails   /     long nails     /   manicured nails  /     dirty nails   /     flat ass    /   toned ass    /     bubble butt    /   thick ass    /   small waist /    thick waist     /    narrow hips    /   average hips   /   wide hips  /     big feet    /  average feet /     small feet  /     soft feet   /   slender feet  /   calloused hands    /  soft hands    /     big hands    /    average hands   /     small hands     /   long fingers /     short fingers    /     average fingers     /     broad shouldered   /   underweight   /   average weight   /     overweight

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 .

shorter than 140 cm     /     141 cm-150 cm     /     151 cm to 160 cm    /     161 cm to 170 cm   /   171 cm to 180cm   /     181 cm to 190 cm   /     191 cm to 2m    /     taller than 2 m.(in vaster form)

𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 .

pale  /     rosy    /     olive   /     dark  /   tanned    /     blotchy     /  smooth  /     acne     /     dry     /    greasy    /    freckled  /   scarred   /    rosacea

𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 .

small     /    large    /     average     /     grey   /     brown     /     blue     /    green     /   gold    /     hazel     /   purple  /  doe - eyed   /     almond   /     close - set  /     wide - set     /    squinty     /     monolid     /  heavy eyelids   /     upturned     /   downturned

𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 .

thin     /     thick     /     fine   /     normal     /     greasy     /     dry    /  soft  /     shiny    /   curly  /    frizzy     /     wild     /    unruly    /  straight /     smooth    /     wavy     /     floppy     /   cropped   /     pixie - cut     /   shoulder length    /    back length    /     waist length     /     line-up    /      bald     /     jaw length     /     mohawk     /     grey     /      platinum blonde     /     golden blonde     /    dirty blonde   /      strawberry blonde     /     blonde     /     ombre     /     light  brown     /    mouse brown     /     chestnut brown    /     golden  brown     /     chocolate brown  /     dark brown  /     jet black     /     ginger     /     auburn     /     dyed red     /    dyed an unnatural color (not dyed but it is purple most of the time)    /     thin eyebrows    / average eyebrows   /   thick eyebrows

𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 / 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .

no tattoos /    one tattoo     /     a few here and there  /     multiple (markings that are not tattoos but they are all over.)     /     full sleeves   /      thigh tattoo     /     neck tattoo   /     chest tattoo     /   no piercings    /  ear piercings  /     nose piercing     /     lip piercing     /      tongue piercing     /     eyebrow piercing    /     navel piercing      /     cheek piercing     /     nipple piercing  /     genital piercing  

𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

eyeliner   /     light eyeliner    /     heavy eyeliner     /    cat eyes     /   mascara     /     fake eyelashes     /     matte lipstick   /     regular lipstick    /    lipgloss   /     red lips  /     pink lips     /     dark lips   /     bronzer     /     highlighter     /     eyeshadow     /     neutral eyeshadow     /     smoky eyes     /     colorful eyeshadow     /   blush    /     lipliner     /      light countouring     /     heavy contouring     /     powder     /      matte foundation     /     shiny foundation     /   concealer    /     wears regularly     /   occasionally wears   /   never wears

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 .

floral  /     fruity   /    perfumes   /     aftershave     /     cocoa     /   moisturizer   /   shampoo /   scented laundry detergent   /  cigarettes   /     leather     /    sweat /     food     /    incense    /   marijuana    /     cologne     /    whiskey   /    wine     /     fried food     /   blood    /    fire  /   metal   /    ice  /  sulfur /

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 .

jeans  /  tight pants   /     over knee socks     /     tights     /     leggings     /    yoga pants     /     pencil skirt     /     tight skirt   /    loose skirt  /     formfitting dress     /     cardigans   /     blouse   /     button up shirt  /     band t - shirt  /     sweatpants     /   tank top   /     wifebeater   /   cutoff t - shirt    /   designer  /     high street     /     online stores     /   thrift /     lingerie     /    long skirt/     miniskirt    /    maxidress     /    sundress    /    overalls    /   tie     /   tuxedo     /     cocktail dress     /     highslit dress/skirt    /     t - shirt   /   loose clothing   /   tight clothing    /   jean shorts   /     sweater   /     sweater vest    /     khaki pants     /    suit   /   hoodie   /     harem pants     /     leather jacket    /  leather trousers /  basketball shorts   /  boxers/    briefs    /     thong     /     hotpants    /     cargo pants  /  hipster pants    /     bra   /     sportsbra     / binder/   crop top    /     corset     /     ballerina skirt     /      leotard     /     polka dot     /     stripes     /     glitter     /    silk     /     lace    /     leather    /    velvet    /     chemise      /   patterns    /   florals   /     neon colors     /     pastels   /    black  /   dark colors     /     fur     /     faux fur   /   gloves /   mask

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒 .

sneakers / high top converse /     slip - ons     /    flats     /     slippers     /  sandals    /    high heels   /     kitten heels     /   ankle boots    /     combat boots    /     knee - high     /     platforms     /     stripper heels     /     bare feet   /    loafers   /   oxfords    /     gladiator shoes    /   boots /

[bluesylveon2]

My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I had many tests and essays within the past two weeks. One of them sounds like a tragic fanfic backstory (Sorry Armin. He was in it lol)

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 6: Our Last Summer

After Hange leaves the goat house 

Sasha and her friends waited a few minutes after Hange left to make sure the coast was clear. She gave her friends the signal to get out of their hiding spots after a few minutes had passed.

"Was the 'throwing me in a barrel' really necessary, Annie?," Hanami complained as she rubbed her sore head. 

"You were taking too long getting in the barrel, and I didn't want us to get caught by Hange. Sorry about that," Annie replied cooly and got out of the barrel. She turns around to help Hanami get out. 

"Well, at least it got the job done" Hitch jokes as she left her spot behind a crate with Mina. 

Historia laughs at her friend's conversation. She was lucky enough to hide alone. 

While this was going on, Mikasa was busy helping Sasha get out of the barrel and fixing everything in the barn to look normal. 

Sasha zoomed out of the barn to find her fathers as soon as Historia fixed the final piece back to where it belonged.

Everyone sweatdropped, especially Mikasa and Historia.

Looks like we're going running again after all

---

“Sasha! Wait!” Mina yells. Sasha was running like her life depended on it (which it did, in a way). She was tired and exhausted, but Sasha’s adrenaline was too high to stop running. Sasha didn’t know which exact pier her fathers were in, so she was determined to check every pier Kalokairi had. 

She couldn't stop thinking about how this happened. How was there a flaw in her plan? The plan was for her and her friends to wait until her fathers walked past them and jump them before her mom caught them. She didn't think far ahead of where to dispose of the bodies. Probably somewhere in Mike's yacht. Sasha also wanted to slap herself. They must have left through the window or through the hatch on the roof! No wonder they managed to leave without Sasha noticing!

Luckily for Sasha, it only took two piers to finally spot Mike's yacht. There was only one ship nearby and three male figures on it. Sasha had an 80% chance of being right, and it increased the closer she got. 

"Wait!" Sasha yells at the trio. She prayed it was her father's, or else she yelled at total strangers. She noticed how her father's changed their outfits to suit the hot weather. Erwin wore a long sleeve polo shirt rolled up to his elbows with the first button open and shorts. Mike kept the same shorts on but was shirtless to show off his muscles. Levi was also dressed similarly to Erwin, except he unbuttoned his shirt all the way to show off his abs. None of the men seemed to notice Sasha’s call. 

Sasha stopped running once there was no pier left to run on.

Fine, she thought in her head. I have no choice but to swim. Thank goodness for Hitch's beach day idea, or else she would’ve been doomed.

Sasha turned to her friends. It seems as if they read her mind based on the shocked looks on their faces. 

"If Niccolo or any of the guys asks about my whereabouts, give them a random location, but not the beach. Send them on a wild goose chase if you have to."

"But what about our plans for today?" Hitch exclaimed, referring to why everyone had their swimsuits on. 

Sasha took her clothes off, leaving her in only her swimsuit. She hands her clothes to the nearest person, Historia. "We'll move it to tomorrow!" She yells back and jumps into the water. Sasha starts swimming to the yacht. 

The girls could only watch with shock as their friend swam away. Historia, who got over her's first, clears her throat to get everyone's attention.

"C'mon girls. We got a job to do."

---

Levi was the first to hear Sasha swimming towards the yacht. 

"Oi! Sasha is heading over here!" He points out to Erwin and Mike to get their attention. Erwin and Mike look at where Levi was pointing and headed over to meet up with Sasha.

"Were gonna sail around the island. Wanna come? I could use more hands since I let my friend explore the island" Mike yells.

"I thought you weren't coming to my wedding?" Sasha yells back as she swims nears the yacht.

"Well, Four-Eyes wanted us to leave, so we decided to get out of her hair," Levi says with monotone. He, Erwin, and Mike kneel down to pick up Sasha from the water.

Huh, Sasha thought. Levi never used Four-Eyes in front of her before. That was news to her. She always hears everyone refer to her mom as Hange and never any nicknames.

(Levi only referred to Hange at first out of respect to Sasha. He is letting it slide more now that first impressions are over.)

"You're mom freaked out when she saw us? What was that about?" Erwin asked once Sasha was on the yacht. He hands her a towel to dry herself off. 

"No!" She replied hastily. "She's just not thinking straight! She's been so stressed about the wedding. Things like decorations, food-" 

Sasha stops rambling when Mike holds his hand out as a sign to tell her to slow down. She turned red out of embarrassment much to Mike's amusement. Sasha reminded Mike of Hange. Once Hange starts talking, she won’t stop even after the sunset. 

She clears her throat. "Sorry. What I meant to say was my mom would be so happy to see you all as her surprise tomorrow!"

"You think so?" Levi asks skeptically.

"Mhm" was all Sasha says and takes a look at her surroundings. She has been on sailboats a few times. Mostly to travel between the mainland and Kalokairi. She would go when she and her friends rented a boat to explore the island or party. Sasha looks at Mike’s yacht in awe. She wants to buy one day to explore different parts of Greece with her friends and Niccolo. As Sasha was amazed by what she saw, she noticed something that definitely didn’t belong in Erwin’s arms. 

"You took Mom's guitar."

Erwin stops tuning it to look up at Sasha. It was a simple classical guitar to Sasha’s eyes, but it held more meaning to Erwin.

“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it. See-” He turns over the guitar to show Sasha there was more than what she originally thought. Engraved on the wood were the letters H.Z and E.S. “-Hange Zoe and Erwin Smith.” 

Sasha’s opened her mouth in shock. Meanwhile, Levi and Mike just glanced at each other. They didn’t expect that out of Erwin.

Erwin notices everyone’s faces and chuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually know how to play the guitar,” he says as if he can read everyone’s minds. “I bought her this guitar here on the island actually. There was once a shop here, but it is long gone now. I know because I checked when I arrived.” he adds solemnly.

Sasha sits down next to Erwin as he started plucking the strings to see if it was tuned. He starts playing it once he was satisfied with the sound. Sasha, interested in listening, sat with her legs crossed and rested her left elbow on her left knee. Sasha’s head rested on her fist as Erwin played. 

Levi and Mike still stood nearby awkwardly watching the two. The two looked at each other with mutual understanding and left Erwin and Sasha to bond as they prepared the yacht to set sail. 

---

“So what was my mom like?” Sasha randomly asks. Her mom's diary only showed one side of her story. Hearing from her fathers introduces a new perspective. 

Erwin chuckles just thinking about Hange. “She’s a very happy and intelligent woman. Her smile was very contagious, and it can make anyone’s day.” 

Sasha smiles at Erwin’s words. “What is your fondest memory of her?” she asks out of curiosity.

Erwin ponders on Sasha’s question. There were a few minutes of silence before Erwin looks down at the guitar on his lap fondly.

---

"Can I open my eyes now?" Hange asks for the fifth time since they left her house. She was beginning to lose her patience, and she was too excited for the surprise. 

"Not yet." Erwin laughs at Hange’s excitement. 

“Is it a new book?” Hange guesses as she walks blindly to wherever Erwin was leading her.

“No” Erwin chuckles and continues leading Hange to who knows where. 

Hange can feel the surface shift under her sandals as she walked. She could tell Erwin was guiding her on the beach based on the unstable sand, the wind blowing on her sundress, and the sound of waves crashing the shore. Apparently, Erwin had a big surprise for her, and they only knew each other for 3 days! He gave Hange a cloth that morning and instructed her to tie it around her eyes. Of course, Erwin made sure to take off Hange’s glasses first and put them in his shirt pocket before proceeding with his plan. Erwin has been guiding Hange by the shoulders for a while now. Hange wonders what the surprise was.

Suddenly, Erwin stops moving, and Hange follows along. She feels Erwin’s hands moving to untie the cloth around his head. Hange flinched as the sunlight hit her eyes. She felt Erwin gently grab her hand and places her glasses on her palm. Hange puts her glasses back on and waits a bit for her eyes to adjust. 

"Surprise, Hange." She hears softly behind her and looks down. Hange starts tearing up. 

In front of her was a big blanket full of food, drinks, and neatly placed towels that looked like it was set up for a picnic. There was a brown classical guitar in the center. The same guitar Hange kept staring at for the past few days. She never bought it because she didn't know anyone who could teach her. 

Hange put her hands over her mouth in shock as her tears became more prominent now. 

Erwin smiles at Hange’s reaction. He takes one of her hands away from her mouth and guides her to sit down next to him. He picks up the guitar and sets it down on his lap.

"H-how did you know? Erwin, I'm truly grateful for this, for everything really, but…" Hange was too shocked to even talk. "I'm speechless."

"I work spontaneously.” Erwin jokes, “In reality, I asked a few people to help set this up. You know the couple who were selling the guitars?" 

Hange nods. She wasn’t getting over her shock just yet. 

“Well, their children helped me set this up for you. I've noticed you eyeing this guitar for quite some time now.” Erwin continues and gestures to everything laid out in front of her.

“Do you like it?" He asks although he knew the obvious answer based on Hange’s expression. 

“Like it? I love it! Thank you! Thank you!” Erwin quickly puts the guitar away before Hange could accidentally hits it as she jumped on him. She wraps her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. Erwin wraps his arms around Hange to hug her back.

“Thank you.” She says softly next to his ear. Erwin smiles “You’re welcome, Hange.” 

Hange pulls away from the hug to look at Erwin’s face, her arms still wrapped around his neck. Suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed Erwin on the lips. Erwin felt like he was dreaming and kisses Hange back. Oh my goodness, he is whipped for her! This was the first time they kissed since they had met. He wanted to thank God personally for giving him a chance with Hange.

Hange pulls away from the kiss to look at Erwin’s blue eyes that held love to the woman in front of him. Her eyes had the same emotion too. Both of them had goofy smiles on their faces. Her eyes wander over to the guitar laying next to Erwin. She gasps. “You know how to play? Can you teach me?”

Erwin smiles at Hange’s excitement. “Of course,” he said. Hange leans over to Erwin to pick up the guitar. She starts plucking random combinations of strings and going on about how he should’ve got it engraved. 

Their kiss was the pivotal point of their relationship. Erwin, for the first time since starting his career, felt relaxed being around Hange.

---

Sasha was grinning from ear to ear after hearing Erwin’s story. She thought it was cute after hearing how her mom reacted to receiving the guitar. She could recall the times her mom taught her how to play the exact guitar Erwin held in his lap. 

“I’m going to be honest with you Sasha.” Sasha perks up after Erwin spoke. He looks up at the sky and curves his upwards into a small smile. He turns to face Sasha with the same smile on his face. “I’m thankful for you inviting me here. Experiencing all of this-” He gestures to the space around them. “-makes me realize what I am missing out on in life. Thank you for that. You’re a good daughter, and I know you make Hange proud.” 

Sasha smiled back. She would never expect that from one of her potential fathers. Maybe it’s a sign? She prays her mom would be proud of her during her wedding day. The day her family will be reconnected again.

They continue talking and sharing a few stories until Mike walks up to the pair. He cleared his throat to get their attention. “Hey, Sasha. Do you mind sharing some sites around the island? You’re the most familiar one out of all with the island.”

Sasha nodded. “Sure.” She stands up to look around her surroundings. She wasn’t paying much attention to where the yacht was sailing through during Erwin’s story. 

She scanned her surroundings until she notices a familiar cliff she and her friends like to go cliff jumping on. Sasha points to the area and turns to Mike.

“I know a stop.”

---

“Is this safe?” Levi asks. Levi was thankful that Hange didn’t force him to engage in cliff jumping. The cliff itself was 20 feet. Levi watches as the waves crash onto the cliff below them. It seems as if his luck of cliff jumping ran out after meeting Sasha. She’s definitely Hange’s daughter.

Sasha gave Levi a big grin. “Of course! My friends and I used to jump off this very same cliff all the time!”

Erwin and Mike smirked.

“Of course it is, Levi. You just have to not think about it.” 

“I’ve jumped from higher cliffs before. This one isn’t that tall. Just like you. Shorty.”

Levi glared at Mike as if that would wipe the smirk off of Mike’s face. Mike was lucky he was not standing next to him. Sasha was trying hard not to laugh too much and risk loosening her grip with Erwin and Levi. 

“On the count of three!” Sasha started swinging her arms a bit. “One… Two... Three!” she yells and jumps off the cliff. The others following as they were jumping and falling at the same time as her.

Yep. She is definitely Hange’s daughter.

---

The group sailed around the island some more before taking a break near the coast. They were sitting under a tree and eating some food Gelgar had made before leaving the yacht to Mike. Sasha wore one of Mike’s shirts to keep her warm after swimming earlier.

“Who’s Gelgar?” Sasha interrupts Mike while eating her umpteenth sandwich within the fifteen minutes since the group started eating.

Mike swallows the food in his mouth before answering. “He’s a friend I met while traveling around Europe years ago. He’s also the one to watch over my yacht when I’m away. He mostly uses it to sail around the Mediterranean anyway. I trust him. I get the satisfaction of knowing my yacht is safe while I’m on the other side of the world. Gelgar has something he can use to visit other countries and drink the number of drinks he wants. It’s a win-win situation.”

Sasha nods in understanding. It seems like a fun idea to go travel around and see the world. She wants to do that one day. Oh, the number of foods she could eat! It made Sasha’s mouth water. 

Erwin chuckles at Sasha as she continues to eat more food. She’s like Hange, who is hungry for knowledge, except Sasha is actually hungry. 

The group starts sharing stories after they finish eating. This time it was Sasha’s turn to answer the questions.

“So what was your childhood like with Four-Eyes?” Levi asks. He leans forward a bit from where he sat.

Sasha was quiet for a bit to think. She was unsure where to start. She looks up to find everyone staring at her. The look of their eyes reassures her they didn’t want her to rush the story.

“Well, I lived alone here on the island with my mom until I was 2. My mom had hired her current assistant, Moblit, to help her around the hotel and babysit me when I was young. Remember the tunnel I lead you through to get to the goathouse?”

The men nod. 

“That was only one of the tunnels I would hide from Moblit and sneak food in as he searched for me.” Sasha laughs nervously and rubs the back of her head. “Moblit is a nice and reliable guy. I don’t know where my mom and I would be without him.”

Erwin and Mike smile. On the other hand, Levi was jealous of this Moblit guy. He got to see some of Sasha’s milestones growing up. It’s no secret to Levi’s family that Levi dreams of raising a family (with the right woman that he loves. Not someone who he is forced to love). He did a good job watching over Farlan and Isabel’s kids. Plus, his mother wanted her son to give her a grandchild someday. 

Erwin, as if reading Levi’s mind, spoke. “Is your mother dating Moblit?”

Sasha laughs out loud that she had to hold her stomach for support. “Definitely not!” she says as she wipes a tear from her eye. “Moblit is too concerned with mom hurting herself and fixes the hotel. Mom is too busy trying to keep the hotel afloat and raise me! Trust me, those two would put dating each other as the last thing on their minds.”

Sasha continues on and on about her childhood after she calmed down. She talks about how she met her current friends, how she used to run track, her first boyfriend, Hange’s shenanigans, her current friends, her love for food, and her fiance. 

Levi notices how she never brought up the archery medals.

"Sasha," Levi calls out to get her attention. Sasha turns to face Levi. "I noticed the archery medals in the attic. When did you start competing?"

Sasha facepalms. How could she forget something like that?! She places her hands on her lap. "My mom had mentioned it one day when I was 6, and I begged her to find someone to teach me. She managed to find someone on the mainland who gave me private lessons on the weekends. In fact-"

Sasha rolls up her sleeve on her right arm to show off her arms. The males noted Sasha's muscles. She's athletic after all. "-I was pretty much a natural at it. I picked it up really quickly, and I’m a talented hunter. I can even hit a target with my eyes closed!" She starts flexing her right arm and smirks. "I'm a tough person to mess with."

Erwin was impressed. It seems as if he judged Sasha a bit too soon. She was hungry to learn new skills such as archery. Meanwhile, Levi kept staring at Sasha and analyzing what she said. Her talent almost reminded Levi of himself. His Uncle Kenny used to train him with how to fight with a knife (Kuchel almost had a heart attack when she saw them practicing one day. Kenny claimed it was for self-defense.) Levi was a fast learner and is skilled with knives and guns. Levi shook his head to stop thinking about it. Maybe he's just looking too deep into this? Nevertheless, he kept the thought in the back of his mind.

Mike smiles at Sasha’s challenge. He raises up his right arm and starts flexing. "Me too Sasha. Me too." He says as he looks at Sasha’s eyes. They were challenging each other in a staring contest. 

Almost two minutes passed when Mike gave in and blinked. Sasha let a loud whoop and jumped up and down with glee. Erwin clapped for Sasha’s victory, while Levi awkwardly pats Mike's back for reassurance. He's not that much of an asshole.

"Ok ok. You win Sasha. Now, what do you want?" 

Sasha makes an L with her left hand and rests her chin on it. Her left arm was resting on her right arm that she placed across her stomach. She taps her foot as she was thinking.

"Hmmm, what about you tell me a story about you and my mom? Also your views of her."

Mike looks at Erwin and Levi expectedly. Levi shrugs, and only Erwin speaks up. "She asked me the same question before." His mouth opens in an o with realization. Looks like it's his turn to share his story.

"Well your mom is energetic and the most intelligent woman I've ever met. She contributed to my decision of becoming a travel writer."

---

“Everything is all set, Hange.” Mike adjusts his outfit to make himself look presentable to Hange. He wore a pair of jeans he rolled up, a T-shirt, and sandals. To him, he looked like nothing compared to Hange. She wore jean shorts, a flowy long-sleeve blouse that showed off her shoulders, and flip-flops. 

Hange was excited about her lesson with Mike. She had asked him if she can go sailing with Mike after their first night of stargazing. Hange was hoping to at least steer the wheel once. Mike walks up to Hange. She was steadily holding onto the wheel of the yacht. The afternoon sunlight gave Hange a glow around her figure. The wind was perfect for sailing.

Hange had a huge grin on her face. She couldn’t hide her excitement, and she was interested in learning about sailing and the mechanics behind it. Mike had promised to teach her about steer first before going into the complicated parts of sailing. Hange struck a pose when Mike stood next to her. He held something behind his back and out of Hange’s view. 

“How do I look? Do I look like a captain yet?” 

Mike laughs at Hange’s question. She looked far from a captain with her outfit.

“You don’t look the part but-” Mike moves his arms from behind his back to reveal the captain's hat he was hiding from Hange. He walks up to get closer to Hange and places the hat on her head. Mike smiles at Hange fondly once he was sure the hat was placed firmly on her head. 

“Now you do, captain,” he says with a suggestive tone in his voice. Hange snorts and lightly punches Mike on the shoulder. Mike laughs out loud at her reaction.

“Shut up, Mike! You still have to teach me how to steer before I can do anything else.”

Mike walks behind Hange and places his arms over hers. He lightly grasps Hange’s arms and positions them in the correct position on the wheel. Mike moves to place his body close behind Hange’s. He rests his head on her shoulder.

“Ok.” He says next to Hange’s left ear. She shivers a bit from Mike’s voice. “This is what you do.”

---

It was sunset by the time Hange’s sailing lesson ended. Mike instructed Hange how to turn and he had her do figure 8’s and circles near the sea. The two were now sitting on the deck and drinking some wine Mike had brought. They were sharing childhood stories as some music from the radio played in the background. Hange was still wearing the captain’s hat. 

“Wait so you were just born with that nose of yours? There was no accident, and no one in your family had one before?”

Mike shook his head. “Nope. I just had this ability since I could remember.”

Hange nods in understanding. She was curious about her smell now that she thought about it. She can recall the times she was busy in college or exploring the island to even bother taking a bath. Levi used to point it out and even forced her to take a bath once or twice during their time together. Thinking about him did make her heart hurt, but now she’s moved on. She doesn’t need him. 

“What do I smell like?”

“You can smell some musk and vanilla. I can smell it the first time we met. Sorry about that.” he says quickly. 

Hange waves him off and smiles. “Don't worry about it. I think it's really cool and unique! It must be a useful thing to have especially around food!”

Mike chuckles at Hange. “It’s a blessing and a curse.” He can smell delicious foods from around the world, but he can also smell horrible smells like trash. The two continued sharing stories until the song on the radio changed to one Hange was familiar with. She suddenly grabs Mike’s arm and stands up. “Dance with me, Mike!” Mike, who was falling for Hange every second, agrees.

They danced to the music around the yacht. The song was upbeat enough to dance the tango to. Occasionally, Mike would pick up or dip Hange around. This caused Hange to laugh from all the fun she was having. The two were obviously not professional dancers, but they were having fun. Hange was surprised by how well Mike could dance. She felt like a princess dancing with her prince under the stars. 

Mike dips Hange one more time as the final notes of the song play. He pulls her back up and keeps her close to his body. One arm was behind Hange’s back and the other held her head. Their eyes met and their heavy breaths fanned each other's faces. 

“That was...wow,” Hange says in between breaths. “You’re a really good dancer, Mike.”

“You too.” Mike continues staring into Hange’s eyes and Hange stares into his. It was as if there was an invisible force pulling them together as they leaned closer to each other. Mike moves his hand from behind Hange’s head and cups her cheek. He and Hange closed their eyes, and they kissed each other on the lips. 

At that moment, Mike knew there was no turning back. 

---

Sasha smiles after hearing Mike’s story. Maybe Mike is her father? Sasha has a talent for smelling meat from a mile away. 

Erwin checks his watch and stands up. “It looks like we’ve been here for quite some time. Shall we head out?” It was almost 5:30, and they’ve been out for over an hour now. 

Everyone nods and stands up to begin packing their things. Sasha made it her mission to speak to Levi next. 

---

Sasha manages to speak to Levi during the walk back to the yacht. Erwin and Mike were conversing up ahead, so it gave Sasha some private time with Levi. 

“Hey, Levi.” she starts and looks at Levi as they walk. Levi hums in response. “What did you think of my mom?” Sasha was expecting good things similar to Erwin and Mike. Sadly, Sasha doesn’t know Levi well enough to know how he speaks. Bluntly.

“She’s reckless, loud, annoying, and a bit crazy (that is an understatement from Levi). She even asked me to go with her to Kalokairi after five minutes of meeting her!” Sasha wanted to roll her eyes. Levi was also crazy for agreeing to go with her mother. What a hypocrite. (In Levi’s case, Sasha did not need to know why he said yes).

“Yet,” Levi's voice turns from irritated to gentle. Sasha was shocked by the sudden tone change. “She is an intriguing woman.” 

Sasha stops walking and stares at Levi with her mouth wide open. To her, he doesn’t look like a guy to think of her mother fondly like that. His stoic face doesn’t give Sasha much to work with. Levi notices Sasha stopped moving and turns to face her.

“Oi! Stop standing there or else you’ll get flies in your mouth!” he yells and Sasha snaps out of her shock. She runs back to Levi and they continue walking in silence. This time Levi looks at Sasha. 

“Do you want to hear one of my stories about Four-Eyes?” Right. Four-Eyes is a nickname Levi has for her mother. Sasha nods her head.

---

“Get back here, Four-Eyes!” Levi yells as he chased Hange across the beach. 

“You gotta catch me first, Levi darling!” she yells back and continues running away from Levi. 

Hange and Levi were hanging out at the beach on a sunny day. Levi laid down to rest his eyes for a few minutes while Hange was busy making sandcastles. Apparently, Levi slept long enough for Hange to bury him in the sand saved for his head. The worst part was when Hange decorated his body with whatever she could find and took a polaroid picture of Levi. Levi considers himself lucky to wake up to the flash. Hence the situation going on right now. 

Luckily for Levi, Hange accidentally tripped from running in the sand and fell. Levi pounces on Hange and pins her to the ground. He was determined to get that photo. They wrestle on the sand for a bit, but Hange was too stubborn to let go. 

"Stop it, Levi!" Hange laughs as Levi tickles her sides. She slaps her arms around in an attempt to get Levi to stop. 

"You did this to yourself, Shitty Glasses. I'm just returning the favor." Levi continues to tickle Hange. She began loosening her grip on the photo.

"You have such a way with nicknames, Levi. I feel honored!." Hange laughs.

Levi wanted to roll his eyes, but he was determined to get that photo back. Even if he has to change tactics.

Hange didn't see it coming. Levi stopped tickling Hange, grabbed the back of her head, and picked her head up to kiss him on the lips. Hange was too shocked to react.

Hange was still stunned after Levi pulled away. She didn't notice Levi grab the photo out of her hands. He pocketed it away from Hange’s reach.

Hange shakes her head and notices her now empty hands. "Hey, that was dirty!" She exclaims and attempts to search Levi to get the photo back. 

Levi tsks at her many failed attempts. "That wasn't dirty Four-Eyes." He gets off of Hange (much to her confusion) and extends an arm out to help her up. Hange takes Levi’s hand but was suddenly swept off her feet as he carried her bridal style. 

"What are you doing?" Hange squirms in Levi's arms. Levi doesn't loosen his hold on her and starts walking to the ocean.

Oh no, Hange thought. This must be payback from a few days ago.

"Look. I'm sorry Levi! What happened a few days ago was a joke!" She exclaims nervously and tries to free herself from Levi. To Levi, he thought all of Hange’s attempts were cute, but he continued walking anyway. 

Levi stops walking the moment the water hits his knees. Meanwhile, Hange continues to squirm in his arms despite having no progress. She stops when she notices Levi staring at her. He smirks. (That asshole)

"This, Hange, is playing dirty." Levi suddenly drops Hange into the water. She sits up quickly and coughs up some water. She was ready to drag Levi in for revenge but stopped when she heard an unfamiliar sound coming out of him. Levi was laughing! 

Levi laughed like there was no tomorrow. Hange could tell he enjoyed it by the way he wrapped his arms around his stomach. Well, he was laughing at her, but Hange never heard the man laugh since they first met! 

Hange smiles. She'll let Levi enjoy his fun for now.

---

The couple returned back to Hange's house to shower (and maybe a bit more but Sasha didn’t need to know that) after their rendezvous at the beach. They laid in bed together hours after coming back. The house was dark except for the moonlight spilling into Hange’s bedroom. Levi only wore shorts and was absentmindedly playing with Hange’s hair. On the other hand, Hange was wearing her underwear and one of Levi’s button-up shirts to bed except kept the buttons open. She was laying on Levi’s chest with content. It was quiet and peaceful. The only sounds they could hear were their own breaths. Hange could stay like this forever.

Levi was too busy playing with Hange’s hair to notice when Hange started humming to herself. The song didn't sound familiar to him at all, but it sparked his curiosity. 

"What are you humming?"

Hange looks up at Levi from her spot and rests her chin on his chest. She stares into his blue-grey eyes. "A song I used to listen to as a child. It's actually one of my favorites."

Levi continues to stare at Hange. "What is it called?"

Hange smiles. "” I Have a Dream” by ABBA. The tempo is a bit faster than this and more upbeat. I just slowed it down a little bit." 

"Can you sing it for me?"

"What?"

Levi rolls his eyes. "You heard me. I asked if you can sing for me." His face turned red from embarrassment and he looked away from Hange's gaze.

Hange squeals inside. She thought Levi was too cute. She sits up and places a hand on Levi’s cheek. Levi looks up at her with shock. 

"Of course." She leans forward to peck him on the lips. "I'll sing it for you."

Hange leans back and sits criss-cross on the bed while Levi sits up to get more comfortable. She takes a deep breath and starts to sing the first line.

“I have a dream. A song to sing”

Levi was amazed by Hange’s singing. He genuinely thought she was a talented singer, and she should sing to him more often. Heck, she sounds better than Isabel and Isabel is the best singer he knew. 

Levi smiles as Hange continues to sing. He felt as if he could relate to the song in a way. Meeting Hange and spending time with her has been like a dream. She was a dream come true for him. A dream Levi longs for without the responsibilities life throws at him. He felt free and didn't want to wake up. He was happy, content, and in love with the woman singing in front of him now.

---

Sasha smiles sadly after Levi finished his story. Levi spoke about her mother bluntly and with a stoic look on his face earlier. She noticed the light in his eyes, the hint of sadness in his voice, and he had a longing look in his eyes. She never got the chance to ask Levi anything else as they had already reached the yacht. Levi had walked ahead of Sasha and boarded the boat, leaving Sasha to not see the sad expression on his face. 

---

It was already almost 6 when Mike’s yacht set sail again. Mike was busy steering the yacht. Erwin was laying on a bed reading. Sasha was sneakily trying to find a way to speak to Levi after their last conversation. She stood a good distance away from Levi and (tries to) subtly look at him. 

Levi was sitting at the front of the yacht, looking out into the distance deep in thought. Sasha noticed from afar but was too nervous to approach him. She wanted to talk to him more about her mother. Sasha lightly slaps herself on the cheek. Get it together! You already talked to him before, with others around, you can do it again! Sasha looks around the boat to see if anyone noticed her pep talk before walking up to Levi with confidence. 

She was just two feet away from him when he spoke. His gaze was still looking out at the sea. “You know, you’re not exactly subtle when you slap yourself like that. I’m not that much of an intimidating guy to talk to.” Levi turns to Sasha with a small, yet subtle smirk on his face.

Sasha felt all of her confidence go down the drain, and nerves got to her again. She took a deep breath before asking a question that's been haunting her since she read her mom’s diary.

"Did you really love my mom? After you met her, I mean."

It was a simple question, but it took Levi aback. He didn't expect that from Sasha. Maybe she asked Erwin and Mike a similar question?

"I did." That was all Levi says cryptically.

Sasha raises an eyebrow and waits for Levi to expand on his answer. When he didn’t, she decided to lead the conversation.

"So why did you leave and never come back?"

Sasha notes the shock that passed Levi’s eyes. It seems to her that he thought about the question before. Levi took some time to recover from his shock but remained quiet. Why did he not come back? Would Hange really forgive him if he came back days after leaving and begging her for forgiveness? He looks up at the other men on the boat and frowns. 

Probably not. She had Erwin, Mike, and now this Moblit guy who was basically living his dream. That asshole. Levi looks at Sasha expecting annoyance from his silence. He was met with the opposite instead. Levi could see the curiosity in her eyes as she waited patiently for his answer. He was nervous to reveal his reasons.

"I didn’t come back because I-" He stops because of his nerves getting to him. He takes a deep breath. Sasha was waiting with anticipation. "I didn't come back because-"

 "SASHA!!!!" Levi was interrupted by someone yelling from the beach nearby. The man was tall, had wavy blonde hair, and was shirtless. He looked over at Sasha questioningly. “You know the guy?” he asks and uses his thumb to point at the man.

Sasha wanted to facepalm herself. Of all the times! Right before the juicy part too! Niccolo is going to suspect something is up if she does not hurry!

“Yeah. That’s my fiancee calling for me.” She laughs nervously and takes off Mike’s shirt to hand to Levi. Mike and Erwin gather around her confused about the man calling for her.

“I am so sorry, but I have to go. You will be at my wedding right?” Sasha asks hurriedly. She starts running towards the edge of the boat so she could jump in the sea. She could still hear Niccolo calling for her.

“Absolutely.” Mike pats Sasha's arm.

“We’ll be there.” Erwin smiles.

“Promise.” Levi nods his head.

They watch as Sasha swam away from them and towards the shore.

Mike put his hands on Erwin and Levi’s shoulders.

“Let’s head back to shore. I don’t want Gelgar to come back with a hangover before we explore the island some more.

---

Sasha runs into Niccolo’s open arms. He hugged her tightly and spins her around on the sand. “Where have you been, Sasha? I’ve been looking all over for you all day.”

Sasha lets go of Niccolo as he sets her down and rubs the back of her head nervously. “I’m so sorry Niccolo. I’ve just been all over the island.” She laughs and reminisces about her father-daughter bonding time. Today has been nothing but wonderful.

Niccolo didn't want to ruin Sasha's happiness, but who was Sasha with earlier?

©: This is where I insert all rights reserved stuff. This story belongs to me. Do not modify or republish

Author’s Note:

I just realized that I want to write in present tense and I wrote in past tense before. Oops lol.

The next chapter should be out on Sunday! The infamous “Lay All Your Love on Me” scene! I’m excited 😁

[hateswifi]

Jasonette July: Children

Day ten of being committal, I love this one so much. Also not even gonna try sleepin on time. It’s either no sleep or post late.

The Master: Master List

Jasonette July: Master List

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

He didn’t know what to expect at the age of twenty when he heard crying from an alley while on patrol. What he didn’t expect to find was a crying raven-haired baby. His heart melted, maybe its because he saw himself in her or maybe because she is an abandoned baby. The next thing he knew, he was running back to the manor holding a now more calm baby.

“Hey, Brucie! I know you always have those adoption papers on hand, can I have a pack?” Jason says, walking into Bruce’s office.

“Please tell me I’m dreaming, you’re adopted, my adoption dis- habits shouldn’t affect you,” Bruce says, looking up from his work.

“Wait, I’m adopted, I’m so hurt…” Jason says, putting the back of his hand on his head.

“Stop being dramatic, I’ll give you the papers if you show me my grandchild,” Bruce says, opening his desk draw.

“I don’t know her name, but I would love to call her Maria-Angelina, after my grandmother,” Jason said, showing off his soon-to-be daughter. It was at that moment she starts crying. Not even two minutes later, Damian and Alfred burst into the room.

“Another one Father?”

“Master Bruce, I have always supported you, but another one?”

“No, this one isn’t mine, she is Jason’s.” Bruce smiled, standing up to walk around his desk.

“Alfred, I would like you to meet your great-granddaughter and Damian your niece, Maria-Angelina,” Jason says, holding her out.

“She is beautiful,” Alfred says, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. 

Jason loved his daughter even though she was not his biological daughter. As Maria grew older she realized she was missing something, more like someone. Her dad did everything for her, she loved him and he did everything her could to make her happy. But even at the age of eight, she knew her dad was missing someone as well. 

It was when she wandered away from dad while they were at the mall did she realize who she was missing and she found it in a dark-haired woman. She was beautiful. She was on the phone when the woman noticed her standing by herself. She puts her phone away and approaches her.

She crouches down to her height and asks “Are you lost, little miss?”

“Hi, yeah, I’m missing my dad,” She says slowly.

“Hi, my name is Marinette, would you like me to help you find your father? Or would you like me to walk you to security?”

“Could you help me find him?”

“Sure, what does he look like? Is your mom here too?”

“I don’t have a mom.”

“Oh I’m sorry, honey,” Marinette says, squeezing her shoulder.

“It’s fine, I never had one,” Maria says with a shrug. “My dad is tall, he has dark hair with a white patch on the front of his head. He has blue eyes, he big and awesome!”

“Where did you last see him?”

“We were at the book store.”

“Let’s head there then,” Marinette says, standing with a smile. They go down the escalator and walk to the book store. “What do you like to read?”

“I like Charlotte’s Web!” She smiles.

“That’s good.”

“What do you do? My daddy helps with my grandpa’s business,” She smiles, looking up at the pretty woman.

“I design clothes,” Marinette smiles, looking through the aisles for anyone meeting the little girl’s description.

“Oh! That’s so cool! Did you make your dress?”

“Yes, have you seen your dad?”

“Not yet,” She sighs.

“What’s you favorite subject?”

“I love English and art class!” she exclaims, rocking on her feet.

“Ok well, it doesn’t look like he’s here, we should go to security,” Marinette says.

“Aww… I’m having fun with you though,” Maria sighs and hangs her head.

“Well, we still have to walk there and wait for your dad,” Marinette points out as they leave the bookstore. The approach the map and Marinette listens to the girl’s chatter as she looks for the lost child area. Third floor.

“Ready? We’re heading up to the third floor,” Marinette smiles toward the little girl. “Do you know your dad’s name.

“Umm…. Jason Todd I think,” She contemplates. 

“Ok, we’ll tell the people who find parent,” Marinette says, as they step onto the elevator. There was a small back and forth conversation and all too soon, they reach the lost child area. “Hello, this is a lost child, she says her father’s name is Jason Todd, would you be able to call him?”

“Jason Todd, please report to security, we’ve found your missing daughter,” a voice comes over the loudspeaker. They continue their conversation until a big man bursts into the room. The little girl jumps up and rushes to hug him.

“Maria-Angelina Catherine Todd! What’ve I told you about wandering off,” He yells, pulling her into a hug.

“Hi, Dad,” Maria says, pulling out of the hug. “This is Marinette! She helped me look for you.” For the first since he entered the room, he looked up and saw the pixie, she was a sight, standing there in her light blue sundress that brings out her eye. 

He stands up. “Thank you so much for helping her, I don’t know what would happen if she was hurt or taken,” her dad- Jason- says taking her hand. “Please let us take you out as a thank you.”

“No, I couldn't, I just saw a lost child and helped her,” Marinette shrugs with a smile.

“Please, Marinette,” Maria asks, looking up at her with puppy dog eye.

“You have better puppy dog eye than Manon did,” Marinette giggles.

“Trust me, I know,” Jason chuckles.

“So is that a yes?”

“Fine,” Marinette says reluctantly.

“Yay!” Maria says, turning to rush out of the room.

“Kids huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Got any of your own,” Jason asks, a slight smirk spreading across his face.

“No, I don’t even have a boyfriend, but that beside the point, I use to babysit,” Marinette smiles. “What about you? She said she didn’t have a mom.”

“She’s adopted, I found her in an alleyway,” Jason says quickly.

“That’s sweet of you,” Marinette coos. They walk together to a close-by coffee place. They spend time talking and laughing. They leave saying goodbye to each other.

“Hey, Dad, you know how everyone has a mommy and a daddy?” Maria asks Jason nods in response, already knowing where this conversation was going. “Can she be my mommy?”

“Sweetie, that’s not up to me.”

“Can we see her again?” It was at the moment he realized, he never got her number. The next couple of days, though Jason tried to hide it, Maria could see the loneliness in her dad’s actions and the longing in his eyes.

“Dad, are you ok?”

“Yeah, honey, just a bit tired, just as a heads up we’re going for measurements later today at Grandpa’s house,” Jason says, packing her lunch.

“Ok, Dad,” Maria says, hopping off her stool. As she closes the door to head to the bus stop, she hears him sigh. She wishes she could see Marinette again. She wishes her dad was able to make Marinette her mommy, however that worked.

Her dad picked her up and they head over to the Wayne Manor. She rushes ahead of her dad and bursts into the lobby, “Hi, Grandpa! Hi, Great Grandpa!” 

“Hi sweetie, Uncle Damian is getting is measurements taken right now, but you can go in next,” Bruce says.

“Thank you, Grandpa! Will the nice designer make me a pretty dress?” She asks, hugging Bruce.

“Of course I will,” A feminine voice says, coming from the living room. “I’m ready for the princess, as Damian called her.” She giggles.

“Marinette?”

“Maria? Jason? You guys are Waynes? I thought you are Todds,” Marinette asks.

“Well we are, but Wayne is hyphenated,” Jason shrugs. The measurements go well. In Jason’s case really well,  he gets a kiss and a date. 

They start dating a week later, Maria is really happy, especially a year later when they announce that she’s going to have a baby brother. She was happy before she went wandering off but now she couldn’t be happier, she has a mommy, a dad, and a baby brother on the way. The wedding plans, which she was promised to be the flower girl in, was planned for after the baby’s birth. She loved her family and they loved her.

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

Tag List:

@jasonette-july-2k20 @abrx2002 @pawsitivelymiraculous​ @ironspiderstark@thestressmademedoit @bigpicklebananatree @zalladane

Permanent Tag:

@ash-amg @bee-wrecker @damianette-is-life @mjisntme @i-will-be-your-ace @k-poplunardreams @chocolateherringtacofan @toodaloo-kangaroo @i-is-mysterious @zambie-trashart @imnotfluffy @nanakeid

[percy-the-penguin]

Together Apart

1/? First installment here we go! Please note: This is the intro and is pretty boring and I’m not a great writer, sorry.

Some of the queens intros are a bit longer then the others, I love all of them though-

I really hope you guys like it 

I. Catalina de Aragon

It had been three years since Catalina had been reincarnated. She had originally woken up in a house that was unfamiliar to her. She had been extremely confused as the last thing she remembered was passing away due to Heart Cancer. It had taken some digging but she had eventually found out the house was in her name. It was a nice house, two stories with several rooms and a pool out back. She had spent a while just trying to figure out how things worked. Like her phone. Her phone gave her anxiety and she couldn’t even figure out how it worked. She had even thrown it the first time it rang. It was embarrassing when she thought about it. Luckily she had very little need to use it on a day to day basis. She hadn’t even attempted to figure out how to set up her computer, even after 3 years. She figured out how to use a car after a year and had been quite proud of herself for it. She could do everything she needed to function and had even gotten a job as a receptionist/office assistant at a local church. The technology there was easier than at her house. She still didn’t know much about modern life but she was learning and to the former queen, that’s all that matters. 

II. Anne Boleyn

Anne Boleyn had woken up in a small run down apartment, one bedroom, one bath, a kitchen and a living room. After two and a half years she had grown to love it. It was small and cozy and she had everything she needed, including life so she really couldn’t complain. The day she had been woken up she had been extremely confused. She had noticed her scar in the mirror and immediately had a flashback. She had been entrawled and entertained by almost everything and had a blast figuring out how everything worked. Granted she still had trouble in the kitchen...she set the toaster on fire every time she used it and barely managed to stop the microwave from exploding when she accidentally left her silverware in it. She thanked god every day for fast food restaurants. And hoodies. She loved those too and always had one on or wrapped around her waist. She had also figured out different hair styles and her go-to was space buns. It had made her giggle the first time because she thought she looked like a frog. She had gotten really into listening to podcasts and music and had even started a history podcast of her own called ‘Beheaded Through the Centuries: A Look at History from the Receiving End of the Blade’. She mostly covered the Tudor era and beheadings. She had been in and out of different waitress/receptionist jobs due to her tendency not to take things seriously and her kitchen problems. She counted herself lucky that her podcast had picked up enough to cover her along with the few poems she wrote on commission. She figured she probably should start looking for a real job though..

III. Jane Seymour

Jane Seymour had been well..surprised to say the least when she had woken up one day in a small house she was unfamiliar with. She had spent about two hours just walking around. Everything was decorated so nicely. There was a beautiful view of a sparkling lake outside her bedroom window and a forest next to her house. The third queen had picked up modern life quite nicely. If she ever had trouble figuring things out she would go to her neighbor who was surprisingly understanding though she doubted they would believe she was the reincarnation of a long dead Queen. She had developed her own sense of style, usually a pastel or white sundress with sandals. She loved talking walks and had gotten the hang of driving pretty quickly. She would walk to the local market for food and anything else she needed once a week and everyone was very friendly. She had even picked up a job at the flower shop near her house. The only thing she would change was..well, she wished she had company. It got lonely especially in the late hours of the day when she was off work, home alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

IV. Anna of Cleves 

Life had been good in the three years the red queen had been reincarnated. She had woken up in a fancy apartment, something she had been quite shocked existed. It was a 2 bedroom, 3 bath apartment with a lovely kitchen and beautiful living room. She was on an upper floor and the view was absolutely stunning at sunrise and sunset. The view was actually what inspired Anna to start painting. She had her own paintings hanging up around the apartment. The fourth queen was able to pick up this life quite easily. Of course, it helped that her riches from her past life had seemingly been transferred to this one. She had no need for a job but she had been taking shifts at an animal shelter near where she lived to keep herself busy. She had discovered what a thrift shop was and frequented one. She had t-shirts from bands she had never heard and loose jeans that were faded. She liked that style though. She often wore a red baseball cap backwards and had taught herself how to use a skateboard. All in all she was living her best life.

V. Katheryn Howard

Katheryn Howard, or ‘Kitty’ as her co-workers referred to her probably took reincarnation better than any of the other queens. She had been ecstatic to say the least when she woke up in a small apartment similar to Anne’s though a bit bigger, with her head attached to her body. The fifth queen was wide eyed and curious about everything and had gotten very attached to a cartoon series called Steven Universe. She picked up modern life well and had been working as a barista at a coffee place near her home for the past two years. She had been a bit shy to try new things as far as food and clothing but eventually figured out a style. Well, many styles. Her outfit was different nearly every day excluding her choker that had a small ‘K’ charm hanging off it. She had nearly passed out from pure joy when a co-worker dyed the ends of her hair pink. She absolutely loved it. Kitty was always curious to learn about new things and make new friends. She loved it in this life.

VI. Catherine Parr

Last but not least, Catherine Parr. Cathy had woken up in a small house, similar to Jane’s but with a worse view and louder neighbors. They had grown accustomed to the noise after three years and found it a happy reminder that they were no longer dead. They were no longer alone. It had taken them a bit to get used to everything around them, honestly. They weren’t as startled by technology as their godmother but they did have trouble with it. But that was okay, even if they got frustrated sometimes. They had learned everything they could about this new world and had found peace in a local bookshop where they would go for hours on end every weekend. The rest of their days were spent either at home or at the library where they worked as a librarian and tutor for young adults. The first time they entered a mall her brain had nearly overloaded. So many sights and new things. They had lost themselves there. They ended up buying a whole wardrobe and some other small things like bandannas and an adorable penguin plush they named Caesar. Their go to outfit was a formal button up shirt with a blue sweater over that and jeans with a pair of black converse or a blue hoodie with black leggings and the aforementioned black converse. Their hair was in the same style every day. Usually a side sweep tied with a bandanna. They loved it. They. That was something else Cathy had learned. There were more than two genders. And more than one sexuality. They had been fascinated by it and the more they researched the more they realized about themselves. Cathy had recently come out to themselves as non binary. They were proud of themselves for getting this far and doing so well in such a new environment.

[lilietsblog]

Catherine Foundling Found A Way To Combine Pastel Sundresses And Long Sleeves ft. I realized her eyepatch should not be black after I colored everything with pencils and had to use shitty not-photoshop to fix it )= )= )=

[fentonsellsflorida]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Catherine Malandrino- Girl's Yellow Floral Sundress, Sz 18 M.

[reidetic]

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Cat Adams

Category: Angst, kinda.

Summary: Cat wants to play a game. Spencer wants to, too. Songfic based off of Melanie Martinez’s High School Sweethearts.

A/N: I convienently ignore canon when it comes to her. This is pre his prison sentence. Thank you.

CW: Knifeplay. Not nsfw, but not sfw either lol.

Word Count: 2.7k

It'd been a rough few weeks. He didn’t really know how to describe it, but he found it harder and harder to focus on cases these days. He can’t get his mind off of her. Her, the serial hitwoman who’s tried to kill him several times, her. Cat Adams. He’s been obsessing over her for weeks, waiting for her to pop out of the shadows, and he doesn’t know if he’s terrified or anticipatory. It’s been weeks of him trying to find her, to find himself within that. He’s sitting in a coffee shop nursing a badly burnt latte when he realizes that it’s not fear, it’s excitement and he’s almost stunned. Is it the chase? Or is there something there? He shakes his head, attempting to clear the thought, but just like her, it was persistent.

JJ had told him when Cat escaped prison that it wasn’t his responsibility to catch her, that the team would find her, but he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted. He wanted to play with her again, feel the rush of her little games. He’d never admit it out loud, but the part of him that Cat unlocked excited him. The part that made hands steady and his head determined, but for every bad reason. The barista calling out startles him out of his mind and he realizes that it’s dark out, that he’d been here past the shop’s closing. He mutters out a quick sorry and drops a five in the tip jar for their troubles. 

He doesn’t feel great about walking all the way home in the dark without his gun, so he hails the next cab that passes. Spencer isn’t exactly thrilled with the prospect, but at least it was safer than anything like an Uber. The cab pulls to the side of the road, positioning the backseat within arm’s reach. He opens the back door and goes to say thank you when his heart stops. It’s her.

She sees the look on his face and chuckles. “Sit down, Spence. We’ve got someplace to be, and it’s looking like we’re gonna be late. You know how I don’t like to be late.” The gun in her hand tilts to the side almost lazily, and she smiles at him. His body betrays him, and he’s sliding into the car, closing the door behind him.

“Why am I here?” He says, trying not to make eye contact and chooses to look away from her and focuses on the driver, trying to remember her face.

“We have unfinished business. And I intend to finish it.” Cat scoots across the car to him, and hooks her legs over one of his, effectively squashing any chance he had at moving away from her. 

“My team will find me.” But he’s not sure he wants them to, and he finally figures out where he knows the driver from, but decides it’s better to keep the focus on Cat.

“Will they?” Cat pouts and uses the barrel of her gun to push his chin up so that their eyes lock, and Spencer realizes he’s afraid of himself. “Are you sure you want them to, Spencer?”

He shifts his focus away from her and nods to the front. “Who is he?” She waves the gun around, and just simply says, “He’s no one you should worry about, Spencie.” His stomach tightens and he remembers just how much he hates that nickname. 

“You need to take me home. This won’t end well for you, Catherine.” He says her name like a dig, a reminder that no matter how much she kills, he knows who she is. 

She flinches and shoves the gun into his chest, pulling herself closer. “Cat. My name is Cat.”

He ignores her and follows up with, “What’s your plan? What’s your endgame? You can’t shoot me. You won’t kill me.” 

She tilts her head curiously and giggles. “Oh, I don’t have to shoot you, Spencie. You haven’t even questioned why we’re in a taxi. I know you just got out of prison, baby, but you have an eidetic memory.”

He looks around him and realizes all vents in the car are pointed to the back, and when he looks back, Cat is strapping a mask on. It clicks then, that she’s recreating the taxi driver case from 2011, and he sees her smile from behind the mask. 

Muffled, she says happily, “He got it. You remembered, baby. I’m proud of you.” And the last thing he focuses on before slipping under is that she almost sounded sincere.

When he comes to, he’s bound to a chair, rope digging into the tops of his wrists. He looks up and is startled by the view. He’s in a hotel room and in front of him there’s a floor to ceiling window showcasing the second prettiest view he’s ever seen, the ocean beating against the rocks. He thinks for a second that he knows where they are, and then she’s in front of him.

“What is this?” He says, already a little bored but struggling against his restraints for show, for her. 

“This is another game for me to win, Spencie. I thought you knew me.” She pouts and straddles his lap, and that’s when Spencer notices she has a switchblade in her hand. She flicks it open and he’s struck with the thought of how pretty she is when she’s destructive and just how much he wants to be the one to destroy her.

“I’ve beat all your games before. What makes you think you’ll win this time?” He almost smiles up at her, teasing her motives out of her.

“What makes you think you won last time? After all, I’m the one who ended up against a wall.” He balks at that, grappling with the realization that maybe her flirting wasn’t just a game to her. 

“Is that what you want, Catherine?” She huffs at him, and leans back to get a better angle, and slices his shirt open. 

“My name is Cat.” She traces the tip of the knife over his chest and his breath hitches, and he feels himself getting more and more unsteady. 

“What’s your game? Teach me the rules.” He tries to distract her, because he’s not sure he can handle her so close, on top of him, her body heat the only warmth left in the room.

She smiles and hops off of his lap, circling him, keeping the blade pressed against his skin. “Spencie, let’s stop pretending.” She leans down to whisper in his ear and her breath against his neck is almost too much. “Let’s not pretend there isn't a tiny little piece of you that those women you loved never understood, or ever even got to see.” His breath catches and she drags the blade up his neck and suddenly she’s in front of him again. “You know I'm the only one who understands you, baby, knows how hard it is for you to be around all those idiots in public." 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Catherine.” She swipes the knife across his cheek and he hisses, teeth clenched.

“Cat.” She sits in his lap again, legs thrown sideways across him. “Let’s talk about my game, okay? I’m going to tell you how to handle me. I’m going to give you very specific steps to love me good and right, Spencer Reid. And if you agree to love me, you get to live. If you don’t...I guess you’ll just have to join our dear cabbie, won’t you?” She smiles at him and for some reason, she doesn’t look so crazy.

“So what’s step one?” He lets a breath out slowly as she moves the knife back down his neck to trace over his chest. 

“Step one.” She uses her free hand to loop around his neck and up through his hair. “You must accept that I'm a little out my mind.” He chuckles at that, and she looks offended. 

“I already know you’re crazy, darling.” He tries to reach up and touch her when he remembers he’s tied down. “When do I get untied?” 

“You’ll get untied if you win the game, Spencie. Now, onto step two.” Her hand that previously was stroking calmly through his hair suddenly finds its grip and she yanks his head back. “This is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line.” 

He raises an eyebrow at that, and she scoffs. “What does that mean?”

“You ask too many questions, Spencer. But since you’re so sweet, I’ll let it slide. Even the most murderous of women want a fairytale ending, baby.” He finds himself smiling wryly at that, imagining a wedding between two people as fucked up as them. “Can you agree to that?” She’s got the knife against the soft part under his jaw and there’s actual hope in her eyes. It’s now when he gets an actual look at her, sees the white lace sundress she’s wearing, and her perfectly coiled hair sits against her cheekbones, and he almost thinks she’s pretty. Almost. 

“Yes.” He says it so matter-of-factly that she’s surprised. “You’re sure?” She asks, digging the knife point in further. “Yes.” and she smiles, big and bright. 

“Step three. Give me passion, don't make fun of my fashion.” She seems serious about passion, but she makes it rhyme like a joke.

“Passion?” Spencer questions, the word heavy on his tongue.

“Don’t give me anything fake. The only way you win this game is by being honest.”

“I’ve always been honest with you, Catherine.” The irony of the lie doesn’t slip past him nearly as easily as the lie itself did. Like a warning, she shifts and presses the knife against his cheek, threatening to make a matching cut on the other side. “Maybe not always. But starting now, I will be.” She seems satisfied with this, and she relents the pressure. She once again stands up off of his lap and he is more disappointed than he thought he’d be with the loss of her.

“Step four. Give me more.” She’s behind him now, and she’s running her hands over his shoulders. It occurs to him now that in the last hour, she hasn’t stopped touching him. Her skin meeting his felt like fire and her hands felt like silk, his tattered shirt moving like fluid under her fingertips and suddenly, he feels like shutting down. He can’t fall for her game. It’d be against everything he’s ever worked for; it would mean setting free the part of him that he is so terrified of.

She senses his hesitancy, and her hands tighten. “Can you do that, Spencer?” She breathes in his ear, and his skin lights afire and he is overcome with need to touch her, to feel her but she is in control.

“Yes.” It’s one word but it sounds like a beg, like desperation.

“These are the requirements. You must promise to love me. And if you fuck me over, I will rip your fucking face apart; do you understand me?” Her snarl sounds like seduction and he feels her throughout his veins and now he understands why the drugs felt so good, but he knows she could be better.

“I promise, I promise.” His voice sounds weaker than he’s ever heard it, and he knows she hears it too, because she backs off a little, and pulls the knife away from his skin. She straddles him yet again and pulls his hair back, exposing his neck and presses a few kisses to his neck, working her way down to his collarbone, where she sinks her teeth in hard and fast and he can’t hold in the blissful noises he makes. She laughs and looks up and says, “Are you ready for step five?”

He feels his composure build back up, gaining confidence when he realizes that she’s nervous. Her hands are shaking and she’s sweaty, and he realizes that this performance is hard for her. He grins, and says, “Are you, Catherine?”

He realizes a little too late that teasing her is a bad idea, that he’s tied down and she’s got a knife in her hand. She takes it in stride, though, and smiles. “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I wasn’t ready for all of you, Spencie.” She slices the rest of his shirt and pulls it off of his body as much as she can and runs her fingers down his chest and stomach. “Step five. You can't be scared to show me off and hold my hand.” She seems serious, and a little sad. When was the last time someone loved her with no reservations? And not sex, real, true love. He doesn’t know if he can be that for her, but he knows that everyone deserves it.

“How many steps are there?” He asks, and this time it’s genuine curiosity, and she doesn’t get annoyed. She does, however, press the knife back up against his jaw playfully.

“Seven. We’re almost done, Spencer. But I need to know if you agree to step five, baby.”

“Yes. For you, I agree.” And the words ‘for you’ slip out of his mouth like butter and he doesn’t realize the implications of what he says until he watches her grin and her eyes widen.

“You do like me, huh?” Her giggle takes Spencer back to the first night he met her, before he really knew her, when all he knew about Cat Adams was her file. That’s a strange sort of innocence a person carries, being nothing but a governmental file on a tablet screen. 

“Step six. If you can't put in work, I don't know what you think this fucking is.” And he doesn’t know either, what this is. All he knows is that the way she makes him feel isn’t exactly innocent and isn’t something he can ignore. He knows deep down that she is the absolute worst thing for him, and she’ll eventually lead to his demise. But there’s something about the thought of her lips on his that makes him throw all caution to the wind, and he looks her in the eyes and says, “For you.” And they both know what it means.

“Step seven. I think this should be easy for you, Spencie, but you and I both know we love games. If you cheat, you will die.”

“Is that just for me, or do you get a free pass like with Lindsey?” Cat flinches at that, and controls herself with another swipe across his cheek, and this time he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know I only did that for you, Spencer. Don’t pretend like it was for anything else.” He believes her, and the sting in her words is almost worse than the sting of her knife. He shifts underneath her, and he sees that a tear is slipping down her cheek. He wants to reach up to brush it away, but the rope is already burning his hands enough, and she would never want such tenderness. He fears the openness in the room, the emotional vulnerability coating the air like a thick cloud and the façade falls away. Suddenly, they both feel like children playing at being adults. But just as quick as that feeling comes, it’s gone and the chaos returns.

“You won, Spencie. You agreed to all my terms.” With two quick moves, the rope is gone from his wrists. In silence, they sit and stare and neither of them know what to do. But Spencer wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her with all the passion that he promised her, and she returns fire. It’s more of a battle than he expected, and in surprise he shoves her off of him. She looks surprised but when he gets his feet under him and wraps his fingers around her throat, she understands. He backs her up to the window and shoves her into it just hard enough to stun her.

“It may have been your game, Cat, but I won, and you’re mine. Everyone will know.” And her breathing is short and stuttering but he doesn’t care at all. He kisses her again, the grip on her throat unrelenting until she is pawing at her own neck and he finally releases. She gasps for air like only he could give it to her and she says, “I have one more question.”

He raises an eyebrow at her and steps backwards, letting the pressure become equal between them again.

She grins and says, “Promise to love me?”

And all he answers is, “For you, I will.”

 Taglist:@dontkissthewriter @imagining-in-the-margins

[spiltscribbles]

My Saving Grace

Notes: This was written for my beautiful, sweetheart @tedddylupin as part of our server’s Spring Exchange <3 I’m sorry that this isn’t a surprise anymore but I love you and I’m sorry that this is late. I hope that you enjoy it! Thank you to the realist babe @omgcmere for dealing with my shit while writing this. You can join our server here » https://discord.gg/g2ZgKkJ

.-

A Reblog is worth a thousand stars.

.-

It’s a thick, sprinkling spring morning, and Henry’s standing outside the Matin Bleu like he’s done every Easter his family spent in the states. It’s a small, conspicuous bistro fashioned in the French model that lies in the northern Hamptons. Henry knows it’s every nook and crevice, knows the pastel tablecloths and porcelain china, and he noticed when they adopted new silverware two years earlier. He knows this place like the back of his hand, holds it synonymous to his grandmother’s ever-appraising gaze and Philip’s stiff upper lip and the way it sometimes felt like he was being suffocated by the formality of it all— by the unbridled expectations held for a Mountchristen heir. And God, this is pathetic, the fact that Henry can’t even step into a brunch with his family without the ominous sensation that he’s about to step into enemy territory. Like they were one of the new Kingpins ravaging the neighborhood streets, and he needed an actual superhero to come and save him.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he mutters to himself, pulling out his phone to check the time and see if Alex’s near by, admittedly not sure if he could face all their judgmental glances without some sort of backing.

“Your hair’s starting to get mussed.”

Henry starts, turns around to find Beatrice walking closer to him. She’s got on  a  sundress that makes it so flecks of green dance in her almond eyes and a truly massive hat that would make the British royals seethe  with envy. And Henry’s never been so thankful for the sight of her a day in his life.

“You’re late,” he chides softly, leans down for her to hug him   hello and slips his phone back in his trouser’s pocket, inwardly praying that Alex’s at the very least on his way.

“’S the pregnancy, it’s got me in shambles trying to figure out the time,” Beatrice sniffs, snaking her arm through his own as they stroll into the restaurant. Henry doesn’t care if he admits it, everything feels easier with his sister besides him.

“Don’t tell me that works on Louis, the poor sod.” Henry snorts, incredulous, as he pulls out her chair for her to sit in and greets his Grams and mother with perfunctory pecks on the cheek.

“Louis’s great with all of it,” Beatrice beams, hands moving to rest on her still barely-visible belly. “Even with the mommy brain.”

“You make sure he keeps that attitude up once diapers come around,” a cousin crows from further down the table.

“He’s sworn it,” Beatrice assures glowingly.

“Well Bea, where is Louis? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got knocked up by an irreverent tosser?” Philip asks, passing the butter to Martha, who’s rolling her eyes at her husband’s crassness. Henry hopes she knows that she’s not alone on the annoyed by Philip boat.

“Nice to see you too Pip, it’s been too long.” Beatrice glares with a truly mutinous twisting of her lips.

“Well, answer, where is your husband frolicking around if not here with his family?” their grandmother— a woman who the queen of England had to work her schedule around to meet—  presses, voice drenched with disapproval.

Henry takes Bea’s smaller hand into his own and squeezes for support.

“He had to go to the office in the city to oversee a vulnerable account, Grams,” Beatrice answers with a level tone, squeezing back so hard that Henry swears she’s trying to snap his fingers right in half. “He’ll be here before the second course.” 

“Well, if the firm needed him that’s perfectly reasonable,” she clears her throat right then, eyes cutting over to Henry, and he knows exactly what’s coming next. The same old diatribe about how he’s such a failure, such a disgrace to the Mountchristen name. A family that’s been the crown jewels of each and every antiquity in every Major city in the western hemisphere for the past half century. How Philip’s the only one who’s adopted a good head on him, and how Henry should’ve gone into politics or the Marines or become some sort of hot shot investment banker who makes millions on the hour. Not just some frivolous writer, a damn journalist living in Soho like a bohemian tosser. (Her words precisely.)

Henry’s heard all of it before, breathes in to prepare for the worst of the tongue lashing. He’s only mildly surprised when it’s his mother who speaks up in her timid, unaffected tone to stop it before it begins.

“Let us just pick out our soups, shall we?”

“Ahem, yes. I’m famished,” Henry tacks on, gazing at her thankfully, watching as she runs a hand through her blonde hair— the same shade of his own.

“As long as there’s no onions, the little tyke won’t take even the smell,” Beatrice adds on with a small smile, and the moment passes. His Grams goes back to fuming about all she’s heard on the news, Philip’s gone back to tossing barbs with Beatrice, and Henry’s back to wishing he were anywhere but here before discretely checking his phone for the sixth time in as many minutes.

His stomach sinks at the realization that Alex still hasn’t called or even sent a text. 

“And what of you little brother?” Philip asks, tone vacant of any real interest. “You’ve been seeing a new bloke you wanted to introduce us to, haven’t you? Don’t tell me he’s already old news.”

Henry feels the furious flush spilling across his cheeks at the not so subtle implication that for some reason Henry goes through partners any quicker than he or Beatrice had at his age, and he really wishes he hadn’t gone through the standard Mountchristen indoctrination of not using a voice beyond a soft murmur in public because he’d really like to yell at Philip right about now. Yell at  him for being a beyond annoying, homophobic wanker right in front of everyone. Thankfully, the pure anger is belied by the sudden, and crippling familiarity of Alex’s voice cutting through all the rest. And it’s like Henry’s been filled with helium once he turns slightly and finally catches sight of Alex, his Alex. Alex in that dark suit that makes him look like a Brooks Brothers advert, and Alex who’s always the most incandescent  point in Henry’s world without even his realizing it. Even at the start of all of it— at the start of them, when they had first met and Alex was a god forsaken prat about everything— contrary to his core— And sure, Henry admits he was being intentionally pretentious and perhaps a wee bit waspish whenever Alex got on a soapbox and began  one of his diatribes about how heroes are the most incredible, selfless sort of folks in a community. And sure, wherever one of them pushed the other had to dig his heals in the sand and stay firm just to make a point, just to make the other work that much harder and notice him that more intensely. But the last year has incorporated  something totally knew— something uncharted and scary and dangerous— like at any moment they could step on a landmine— but its also been the most miraculous year of Henry’s life.

It’s been a year of sloppy snogs exchanged at midnight underneath a thousand polluted stars and amidst a symphony of honking city horns. A year of tangled limbs and sweaty sheets and laughter pouring out soft lips. A year of spilled hair on shared pillows and shirts tumbling together so many times that they just begin smelling like a cocktail of the both of them, together. And if he’s being honest, Henry doesn’t exactly know what this is, what it means. All he knows for sure is that he could spend the rest of his days merely parsing out all the varying shades of brown that dance in Alex’s molten eyes and he’d be content. And Henry frankly doesn’t care how utterly love sick that sounds.

“Alexander,” Beatrice— Henry’s saving grace— is the one to crow in greeting, excepting his hug before he takes the spare seat besides Henry.

“I’m so sorry I'm late,” he says with slightly labored breaths, as if he had run the entire way here. “The traffic coming up was all levels of awful.” In a tender sort of motion he quickly brings up Henry’s hand— the one he had interlocked with his own once being escorted to their table, and kisses it hurriedly.

Henry is blushing for an entirely different reason now.

“Never mind that Alexander,” Catherine waves off his excuse with a flick of the hand, a thin smile on her lips. Henry knows that Alex reminds her of Arthur, and Henry is both delighted by the notion and so sad that the only times he ever sees his mother with even a slight flicker of life to her vacant eyes is when she’s thinking of her husband who had died nearly a decade ago now. But that’s hypocritical, and Henry knows it. After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to be over that particular wound anytime soon.

“You missed the appetizer,” Philip tells him briskly.

“Perfect, I’m trying to keep this trim figure,” Alex winks and the rest of the table fall into quiet chuckles.

Henry beams, his  chest threatening to burst at the seams. THat’s his boyfriend. An insanely charming, insanely beautiful, supernova. 

Henry clamps his hand on Alex’s thigh out of view from everyone  else and they share a smile before being pulled back into conversation with Beatrice about her Mommy and Me class, and it’s all splendid.

.-

“They liked me,” Alex preens a few hours later, once everyone disperses and goes back home. The sun’s beginning to dip into the horizon and clouds are beginning to gather overhead as they walk the New York City streets, headed to Henry’s loft with interlocked hands.

“They would’ve liked you more if you weren’t so late,” Henry needles just to make a point, not actually mad. It’s kind of a set in stone characteristic of his. Alex is always, without falter, late to just about any function. It use to crease Henry— back before when they were just bickering acquaintances with a rather brutal amount of unresolved sexual tension, but now it’s kinda endearing.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, face going a bit pale. “Luna really needed Nora and I to stay longer at the lab. That sample he collected at the bank robbery last week after The Ranker’s attack  started multiplying, like it’s a living blog thing.”

“So you’re growing some homemade mutants,” Henry snorts, knocking their shoulders together. 

“I’d really like to say that smug isn’t a hot color on you, but your ass seems to make everything work,” Alex sighs, long suffering, as he gives Henry an appreciative once over— special focus paid to his aforementioned ass.

“And I’d like to say that my boyfriend isn’t a pervert, but alas,” Henry laughs ebulliently  when Alex hip checks him, almost not noticing the buzz to his phone. It’s a message from Pez, a tip on none other than  The Ranker’s whereabouts.

“What’s up Henryson, your face is getting all weird. And not even the hot way like it does when I wear my old lacrosse uniform for sexy times.”

“I’ve got to go,” Henry says, by rote as he tries to flag down a taxi with a emphatic hand.

“I knew it, you have a secret boyfriend,” Alex snorts.

“You say that as if I could handle even one of you,” Henry counters, relieved once a cab slows down, catching sight of him.

“So the sudden franticness?”

“The Ranker, he’s over at time square making some sorta announcement.” Henry explains, swoops forwards to kiss him goodbye before swinging open the cab’s door and slamming it shut. “June would have a conniption if I didn’t get some live video!”

Alex’s expression completely drops now, sticking his head through the window and preventing the driver from speeding away as Henry would prefer. 

“Lucky for you that the dude you’re nailing is the editors brother, she’ll give you a break.”

Henry tries his hardest not to roll his eyes at him, wondering if it’ll always be a point of contention that Henry’s work practically demands that he’s at the epicenter of these showdowns between these superheroes and their villainous counterparts.

“Love, you know as well as I that  if the Harold gets a story published before us one more time your sister will have an early death from a certified aneurism.”

“You folks across the pond really like your hyperboles.”

“And you Americans really like making your boyfriends late for potentially groundbreaking news.”

Alex furrows his brows, that familiar dent of worry between them when he frowns at henry. “Promise to be safe.”

“Always,” Henry kisses the tip of his nose before unceremonially pushing him out and directing the driver to take him as close to the action as he possibly can.

~*~

Alex can’t help but watch Henry becoming a dot into the distance, silently willing him not to be dumb and not getting himself into danger. Though he’s pulled out of it by Nora and June’s frantic texting in their group chat, so with a heavy, put upon  exhale he dashes behind the dumpsters across the way and changes into the costume he always keeps in his messenger bag. Taking him five seconds to a normal person’s ten minutes.

“Have you not been paying attention, like at all!” Nora’s voice is the first to crackle through the line of his built in bluetooth, sounding beyond bothered.

“I was with Henry,” Alex says in defense, the roads become nothing more than a dust in his wake as he runs faster than what could have ever been feasible before. “June, don’t ya have any control on which reporter takes which case? Like why can’t he ever just like write something on an old lady’s kitten being rescued by a fireman.”

“Sorry baby brother, but he wouldn’t have it even if I tried, besides he and Pez are like the best duo that the Sentinel’s seen in years.” June says apologetically, and Alex can only roll his eyes. He knows that Henry is too fucking hard headed for his own good, but still, he’d rather if his completely human, and utterly breakable boyfriend weren’t trying to get himself killed every time one of these hotshot villains want to have a temper tantrum.

“Whatever, just give me the coordinates, yeah?” 

.-

It’s only been like five minutes since The Ranker began his weird tirade, but everything’s already  been swallowed into complete chaos, with people screaming, and at least six car accidents, and all topped off by the ranker’s nauseating cackles pounding through the air.

Alex gives a quick once over, sees that Henry still hasn’t made it here yet, and thanks the lord for small blessings. He’s determined to finish this quickly and with no fanfare.

“The City is infested New Yorkers! And I’m here to clean it from the vermin!” The Ranker is in the midst of shouting, but Alex can’t tell from where.

“Three buildings down from Radio City,” Nora tells him. Alex is always sorta spooked on how she could practically read his mind like that, but doesn’t have time to think on it, to busy scaling the building in question and coming face to face with The Ranker— well as much as they could be considering the whole mask ordeal.

“Ranker!” He exclaims once the man in question finally turns around, ugly smirk on his lips.

“Aw, and the greatest vermin of them all,” he says through a small mike that distorts his voice into something low and scratchy, like gravel that Alex would really like to step all over. 

“Shucks, don’t go and start complimenting me,” Alex harrumphs, swinging an uppercut to his lower jaw and dodging the kick he aims in turn. “Would you just leave us alone already!”

“Just as soon as you flee this city! And stop getting in everyone’s way!”

“Way to do what exactly?” Alex ducks when he tries to punch the side of his head, parrying with a swift kick to his ankles, but the bastard is too quick.

“This city doesn’t need you Torpedo! It doesn’t want you!” He bellows.

“Is that why I didn’t get the customary Easter fruit basket?” Alex asks, faux owlish, as he rams into him. The Ranker gathers his footing and jumps off the building. It’s of course too good to be true, and he only has to press a button midway down to land smoothly with boots that have some sort of rocket contraption built into them.

“Oh damn you.”

“Yo Alejandro!  This isn’t being filmed for VH1 so can you just snip out those one liners and just tie him up for the cops or something!” Nora says, exasperation tinged with actual worry.

“I’m trying, but he’s like in new form since last time he showed his face!” Alex defends, jumping from ledge to ledge before landing only feet behind him. At least seven cop cars have already piled up around them, and a ridiculous amount of people staying to watch. God damn it, have they ever heard of self preservation! Alex would like to call them all idiots, but then spots a glint of gold besides an actually decent cop, Amy— and he relents that they might not be actual idiots. To be frank,  Henry’s the most brilliant person he’s ever known, Even if he acts like a doofus.

“Back away!” Alex yells to the throng of onlookers and reporters and officers. “He’s armed!”

“Oy, why we aught to trust you speedster!” A nondescript man shouts from the crowd.

“Maybe because I’m the only person who’s preventing him from squishing you guys like bugs!” Alex replies, screaming now. He knows he shouldn’t let petulant folks like that get in his head, but god damn it, even while rescuing them, they can be so damn ungrateful.

“Alex from behind you!” Nora yells through the speaker, and Alex manages to duck in time when the Ranker throws a particularly hefty slab of stone his way.

“Fucking hell.”

“Are we just going to be running in circles? Or are you going to just give up before I actually have to hurt you,” Alex yells, feet planted on the ground and glaring daggers his way. 

“It’s you who will be hurt you little pest,” The Ranker cackles, brings up his fist and begins pressing a button on his black glove that shoots out a blast of heat, leaving nothing but ruin init’s wake as he begins shooting indiscriminately. First at Alex, (which he obviously dodges with ease),  and then at the building behind him, and two more at the crowds who are competent enough to divide as soon as they see it pointed towards them. 

All of them besides one person. The aforementioned glint of golden that’s too busy scribbling notes into his pad to look up, and Alex’s heart literally lodges into his throat. Like an echo reverberating out a cave he can hear Pez from over head— where he usually stands atop a balcony to get the best photos— screaming Henry’s name, and he can hear Nora and June’s dissonant shouts for him to move before The Ranker strikes again, but Alex doesn’t understand what’s going on, it’s all thanks to instinct when he catapults himself forwards to push Henry out of the line of fire— both of them dodging the blaze ever so narrowly— Alex’s costume searing with smoke— and landing in a pile of rocks from a construction scene happening across the street. 

“Ouch,” Henry mutters, rubbing the side of his head before crouching upwards.

“Are you a fucking idiot!” Alex screams, pops up defensively to guard against anything else that the Ranker decides to aim his way. Alex isn’t sure whether he’s thankful or terrified that he’s no where in sight. 

“Keep me posted if you guys track him anywhere else,” he mutters to June and Nora, breaths finally beginning to even out, despite the fact that he keeps on picturing himself moving only a moment too late and  Henry suddenly gone— like a flash.

“You got it little brother.”

“Stand ready,” Nora warns.

“I suppose I should thank you for the rescue, though I must admit that the unnecessary insult does knock you down a few points.”

Alex can’t help the small, endeared grin that cracks his face  in half, but he tries his damndest to hide it from Henry’s ever calculating gaze— His mind is made for journalism, always working to figure out a situation— measuring the facts, and interconnecting the clues for one lasting crescendo of brilliance that figures out what hasn’t been spoken out loud. Alex is mildly terrified that he’d look into  his ocean eyes and be caught out.

“What? You get rescued a lot? Have a running tally going on which Superhero deserves the crown of America’s darling?”

Alex finally turns around to him, confident in his mask having stayed in place and tempering his expression enough so that it gives off a blasé indifference— and for the record, it’s fucking difficult when it’s trained on the dude he’s in love with.

“You folks must actually  be some sort of extra terrestrial human/alien hybrid if you truly don’t know that Judie Garland could never be knocked off her perch as America’s sweetheart,” Henry sniffs loftily, goes back to his notepad, because of course he’d rather make sure his notes were all still pristine over checking if he has something as serious as a damn concussion.

“Hah, that accent isn’t exactly yankee doodle sweetheart,” Alex says with a good amount of derision, head cocked. But oh, Jesus fuck. His stomach drops out the moment Henry’s eyes go sharp and his features turn pensive when he turns to look straight at him. Alex is such a fucking idiot, using one of his primary pet names for Henry so carelessly, so thoughtlessly. 

Alex is sure that he just let a major hint of his identity drop in front of him, but with some sort of pure luck that strikes, Pez sprints over to them, breaths heaving. 

“For God’s sake Haz I saw you almost get fucking obliterated! Do you know what that wold’ve done to my psyche!” 

Henry’s face goes tight with contrition, all his attention focussed on his best friend now, and Alex sees a blessed opportunity to run off scot free. But of course things are never that easy, and right when he pivots around to race back to June’s apartment where the girl’s are surely waiting, he hear’s Henry’s voice calling for him.

“Torpedo! A moment!” He pulls away from where he was hugging Pez, and steps closer to him, face sporting that inscrutable expression it does whenever he’s particularly serious about something— the one that never fails to get Alex all hot and bothered. 

And just shit.

“Ahem, my colleague and I are reporters for the New York Sentinel. I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak on what had just played out.”

Alex frowns, confused. No reporters make it actual practice to get any sort of information from the Superheroes, it makes much more money for them just to editorialize and demagog about them to sell issues. Obviously Alex knows that the Sentinel is different, it’s headed by his own sister for fuck’s sake, and he knows that Henry is good and true. But still, it’s a surprising request.

“You could obviously stay silent and have the people equate you to that monster,” Henry shrugs— as if it couldn’t make a difference in his world. And God is he sexy all in his element like this.

“No, ah. I guess I just want  civilians to stay vigilant, the Ranker seems to be only growing in strength and resilience. I have no clue what he’s going to do next.” Alex tries to speak in his most presidential like tone, something he’s been practicing since he were a kid considering the whole his Ma’s the mayor of one of the largest cities on the planet thing.

“And I could quote you on that?” Henry asks, hand moving frantically across the page.

“Yeah of course.”

“Spoken like a true hero,” Pez tells him magnanimously and this is starting to feel real slimy— like he’s lying to them outright.

“I should go, begin mapping out what’s going on.”

“Of course,” Henry nods, straightens to his full six foot one stature. “But if you ever need help trying to predict his next move, we’re on call.” He hands Alex his business card and it takes everything Alex has within him not to burst out in laughter— as if he hasn’t had the digits memorized for years at this point.

“Will do,” he winks, but the Superman aesthetic probably crumbles when Alex accidentally trips over one of the rocks that was being thrown around before he has to gather himself and run off into the distance.

.-

In modest terms, the story published on the latest stand off between Torpedo and the Ranker completely blows up. It’s the most viral story that the Sentinel— or any New York based paper— has seen in nearly half a year. Pez chucks it up to the quote they got from the Torpedo himself, but Nora argues it’s because they plastered Henry’s face right on the byline and Alex thinks they’re both right. 

In truth, Henry doesn’t really bother figuring out why this particular story spreads like wildfire, is only proud of it because of how the article makes it so June’s face goes relieved for the first time in too long— Admittedly, Henry is also elated the morning it was released when he had gotten an actual phone call from his Grams, congratulating him for finally proving his Mountchristen lineage, soon followed up by a email from Philip that actually says he had done well. And Henry knows that neither of them should have an effect on him— especially such an impactful one— but Henry would be a filthy liar if he said he didn’t feel like he was riding on cloud nine that entire week.

But It’s begun to die down now, and Henry’s still  trying to figure out what exactly are the Ranker’s intentions for New York, and the world at large. All his subsequent attacks have been  petty crimes in comparison to trying to start an uprising. They were attempts on stealing pieces from the Met or trying to break free some inmates in one of the more unsavory prison complexes. Each one was executed by one of his henchmen, and easily thwarted by the Torpedo. It just doesn’t make sense.

Speaking of which, the aforementioned hero hasn’t once called Henry or left him any other sort of message about the offered help,  obviously wanting to go at this solo. And that’s perfectly fine, but just annoying. Henry knows it in his bones that if they just exchange information they could plot out exactly what would happen next. But whatever, Henry has more pressing issues to worry about. Namely, his and Alex first anniversary. 

Henry goes back to rearranging the breakfast tray— all of Alexander’s favorites delivered from their usual cafe a few blocks down. The both of them knowing full and well that Henry can’t cook for shit. He did however spend half the night baking and icing a small cake that’s got piped on the date of their first night out as an official couple, and Henry picked out the red and white roses— sown together by the stem and placed in a thin vase right in the center— knowing that it symbolized unity, and mutual love. If nothing else, Henry knows that he and Alex are partners through everything, honest to the core to one another and always there for the other when he needs it most.

The most important part of Henry’s world will always be Alexander, and that’s not in doubt.

Gingerly, Henry picks up the surprise, sock clad feet toeing softly into Alex’s bedroom where he’s still knocked out. He had come home from Luna’s lab so fucking late. Henry hates how hard he works for him, tells Alex as much with low complaints mouthed against his skin and caressing hands pulling him closer, and closer still every time he comes home looking a little worse for wear.

And yeah, Henry knows that they’re trying to figure out how these heroes develop their powers, knows that they hope to create immunities against it to prevent from any possible, maniacal villains. But Henry would rather it that his boyfriend didn’t look so god damn worn out near constantly. 

In a voice still quiet and raspy enough for morning, Henry tells him, “Happy one year love.” Peppering small kisses against the width of Alex’s shoulders, and slowly tracks down the dips of his spine— brushing reverently against the small consolations of freckles that dance on Alex’s hip.

Slow and groggy, Alex flips around so that they’re face to face, a hand locked in Henry’s hair and their lips barely meeting for a kiss. 

“You taste like coffee,” Alex smiles, kissing Henry that much deeper. 

“Aw, the sweet nothings you wax about me,” Henry sighs, faux aggrieved as he grabs the latte in question, making Alex sit up, the blanket pooling around their hips and their ankles intwining.

“Man if I could start everyday with a shirtless you and cup of Starbucks I swear to God I would be set  for the rest of  my life.”

“Should I be concerned that I don’t know which of those you would rather have?” Henry goads, nosing against the crook of his neck.

“Don’t be dumb,” Alex snorts, setting down the drink and curving against Henry with a tender sort of care. Henry realizes the reason for the caution when he looks down and sees how his previously concealed side is covered in bruises, ugly splatters of blue and purple that’ll fade to green and yellows in only a few short days.

“Holy shit,” Henry scrambles off the bed, nearly toppling over the breakfast he had set up. But he doesn’t care— He can’t care, not with Alex just lying there, hurt and broken and Henry can’t do a thing about it.

“What the fuck happened!”

Alex winces, like he was somehow fucking embarrassed. And no, just no. Alex can not be embarrassed over this! Okay sure, there are some funny anecdotes of him being clumsy at the lab, or Nora accidentally tackling him a little too hard against the wall. Little spoofs that left small injuries and maybe a scratch or two, but not this. Never to this level. And Henry has no idea how to comprehend it. It’s like he’s drowning, lost at sea trying to figure out how to help him.

“’S nothing,” Alex tries for broke with a small shrug of the shoulder, but even that makes it so he grouses with pain.

“Alexander what happened!” Henry repeats in a voice like a whip, the same one he’s used with heads of states about wars that they’re still involved in, or police chiefs about unjustifiable shootings executed by their officers onto innocent youths. 

“It was a couple of punks when I was walking home last night,” Alex finally admits, worrying on his inner cheek. 

“What did they want!” Henry bellows. “Did you make a police report! Did you get a decent look of them? Or—“

“Baby, it’s fine,” Alex soothes, climbing out the bed so that he could stand in front of Henry, rubbing comforting hands up and down his arms. “It was not a big deal, they got my wallet, but we both know I’m broke as hell.”

“Why are you being so glib about this!” Henry says in a voice that shakes. “Is this why you came home so late last night. Did they threaten you? Was Nora there? Is she alright?”

“Everyone’s fine sweetheart, Nora wasn’t there and they didn’t threaten me. Just wanted some cash.” Alex moves to kiss across Henry’s jawline, each  corner of his mouth too, while he slings his arms around Henry’s narrow waste. 

���’S because of this bullshit zero sum game the Ranker has got going on with that Torpedo prat,” Henry hisses, feeling like a powder keg ready to blow. Alex stiffens slightly beneath him and he knows he’s thinking the same thing. 

“It was just some stupid pricks Henry,” Alex says quietly, there foreheads pressed against each other. “Now please, don’t let this ruin our day. I know your love sick, pisces ass has got a whole romantic production planned out, and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Breathing in deep, Henry nods, just slightly, agrees to go on with their anniversary plans.

“You really must think highly of yourself if you think I’ve spent that much effort on you,” he jokes, and Alex throws back his head in lovely peals of laughter and it’s all alright. For now. It’s all alright for now. 

Henry lets Alex drag him back in bed, lets him map out Henry’s body with his lips and hands and arches up towards him wantonly when Alex laps his tongue around his dick— a promise of so much more. 

Henry lets Alex wash over him, lets him think that this conversation has ended, lets him not worry about how Henry’ll take this in his own hands.

~*~

“Numbers on Henry suspecting that you spend your night masquerading as New York’s Walmart version of Batman?” Nora asks a few  days after Alex and Henrys anniversary while they write down the new growths showing on the mole collected from one of the Ranker’s more recent city attacks— an ugly black blob that only seems to be growing larger day by day.

“Honestly? I dunno. He seemed to buy the excuse that it was a mugging.” 

“But?” June presses, staying a good distance away from them with her lunch, all of them agreeing that they needed to regroup as soon as possible after the latest  incident of the Ranker attacking another jewelry shop on fifth avenue only last night.

“But, I just feel guilty about it. About the lying I mean. Henry and I don’t lie to each other, we’re like the exact opposite! We’re painfully honest.”

“Honest about everything besides what matters?” Nora sniffs, poking the blob with a stick he’s almost positive is meant to be used for mixing people’s coffee and creams. 

Alex tosses her the bird for that one, more than a bit cross over the whole ordeal.

“Alex, you’re only trying to protect him,” she says, dark eyes earnest with understanding. “I know that this is a sucky situation but would you rather risking one of these crazy villains piecing together that he’s like the one person you’d give up the world to save.”

Alex’s cheeks flush, lips pursed as he glances over to June who’s being uncharacteristically quiet.

“You think otherwise?” He asks, waiting for her to meet his gaze from where it’s concentrated on fiddling with her salad instead.

“Am I allowed to have an other opinion?” She asks, lips pinched.

“Course you are Bug, you know that.”

“Well then I think you should just tell him.” She charges, sudden passion vibrating in her tone.

“Did not see that one coming,” Nora intones as an aside.

“Alex, you saw how Mom trying to protect Dad blew up in their faces. She didn’t talk about any sorta legislation or anything she was trying to get past so that he would never be questioned about staying impartial as a congressman, and it only paved the way to their divorce.”

Alex feels like a rush of vertigo has just hit him, like he’s about to be sick.

“This’s different,” he contends, admittedly very weakly— But it is! This is Henry’s actual life at hand! Not the reputation he might garner from a bunch of smug politicians.

June frowns fully now, looking like she’s trying to throw Alex a lifesaver that just keeps slipping out his hands.

“No Alex, no it’s really not.”

The air around them goes taught, and Alex feels very queasy with the revelation that her words ring true.

“Can we put a pin on this you guys,” Nora asks, frantic. “Our lovely friends just blew up a couple of empty vehicles down in Brooklyn and it’s kind of a shitty situation.”

“Right,” Alex dashes to change into his distinctive red suit, tells the girls to stay on call for him.

“Stay safe,” June pleas, like she always does.

“Of course,” Alex promises, like he always does.

And the remaining discomfort from their argument dissipates because of course it does.

~*~

Henry admits that this is perhaps the dumbest, most idiotic, incredibly thoughtless plan that he has ever come up with, and that’s precisely why he hasn’t told anyone of his intentions. Not June, certainly not Pez, and God forbid Alex ever finds out. But the thing is that if this works, Henry could help put an end to this chaos for good, and maybe that’s worth the risk?

 Well at the very least, Henry hopes it’s worth  it as he swallows down hard and steps on a ledge, a perfect position to witness the current battle playing out in the Williamsburg streets. The Ranker— even more humanoid looking from the last time Henry’s seen him— a sort of slimy sheen shining against his black suit while  he’s practically roaring as he thrashes around, trying to hit a beam of light that Henry knows is the Torpedo, moving so quickly that the normal human eye can’t even focus on him before he makes a hundred more attacks. But like every time before, the Ranker seems to get a signal of whatever he’s been trying to do has been complete, and he ends it.

The Ranker  shoves hard enough and fast enough at the Torpedo  That he hits a building so hard that it begins to shake, and escapes as quickly as a blink of an eye.

Henry sees his chance, and he jumps for it— quite literally.

“Oy, Torpedo!” He shouts, knowing that with his superhuman abilities he’ll be able to hear Henry through the turmoil. And as expected, he stands up— shaking off the Ranker’s latest attack— and looks up towards where Henry had called him from— the top of a five story building.

“Here goes nothing,” Henry mutters to himself, eyes clenched shut a he sucks in deep and jumps— feeling the air whip against him with a vicious sort of vindictiveness— like wind spirits were real and they were laughing at how fucking stupid Henry is for playing with fate like this. And all Henry could do is hope that his Grams puts up a nice memorial bench for him once he becomes a splatter on the pavement.

But then— in an instant— Henry feels a body colliding into his own, and the breath being knocked out of him, before the pair of them stop in the middle of an alleyway, and it’s all Henry could do not to lock his knees and puke all over the crisp suit of the Torpedo.

“Mother of Christ it worked,” henry pants in wonderment of himself, one hand slamming against the wall directly behind him, while the other arm is slung around his stomach.

“You fucking maniac!” Is the first thing Henry hears from the Torpedo once they’re on safe ground— though he still looks like he’s swimming in open air if anyone were to ask Henry.

“It— Ahem, it was the only sure way to get your attention,” he defends, admittedly pretty weak but whatever.

“God Henry! Can’t you be like a normal reporter and ask to become a cable talking head!” The torpedo bellows, but Henry is gleeful.

“You remember who I am?”

The Torpedo goes still— stuttering on whatever he was about to say next, as if Henry had caught him in some sorta filthy lie.

He glares with a harrumph. “Course I do, you’re the idiot from before who almost died because he’s stupidly inattentive towards himself. I’m starting to think that’s a trend with you.”

Henry twists up his lips, unamused but reasoning that being cross won’t help him if he’s trying to work with this prick.

“I'm also the guy who gave you my number so we could sort out this Ranker business once and for all.”

The Torpedo rolls his eyes at him, weight slung to his left hip and arms crossed incredulously against his chest. It’s such a painfully Alex move that Henry starts to feel reinvigorated, reminded of why he’s doing this in the first place.

“Listen, I get that guys who look like you probably aren’t that accustomed to what a blow off is—“

“I’m not trying to seduce you asshole,” Henry spits, he admits it might come off a bit menacing but the head on this guy, Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m happily in a relationship.”

The Torpedo looks strangely pleased with this news, but Henry doesn’t spare anytime trying to figure out what that might mean. Working with him is going to be fucking exhausting.

“Alright goldilocks, then why the hell did you want my attention so damn badly?”

“Oh fuck, do you just not listen! For precisely the reason I had told you! I want to put the Ranker away, for good.”

The Torpedo’s mouth hardens into a straight line, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“’S too dangerous for just a normal human.” He says, and Henry’s just not going to stand for it, a fire like rage licking up his insides.

“I think I can decide determine that for myself.” He says, mulish.

“I thought we’ve come to the consensus that you shouldn’t be trusted for your own well being?” He needles.

Henry’s over the small talk.

“Look, my boyfriend— the man I intend to marry one day! Was roughed up by some of the Ranker’s fucking little minions, and the amount of people this must’ve happened to is probably astronomical! So you listen up, I’m not going to just stand around idly by. I know for a fact that we’ll figure out his intentions much quicker together than apart! So for the love that is holy and right will you just stop being a complete wanker and agree to work with the lowly human,” Henry says this all without barely a breath between words, not having noticed just how close he’s gotten to the Torpedo, how their eyes are boring into one another’s now with a sudden, heated intensity. 

A silence lapse between them, but Henry doesn’t stand down.

“You’re intent on this, huh?”

“To a grave degree.”

Another silence before the Torpedo just shuts his eyes, tilting his head like he can’t bother to argue anymore. 

“Fine. Let’s talk it out.”

The tension building in Henry’s chest finally deflates, replaced by a sort of remarkable brightness that makes his insides buzz with excitement.

“Wonderful! I work over at the Sentinel’s headquarters right past the Meat Packing District, on forty-second. Meet me there Wednesday night.” Henry instructs, probably a tad too enthused, but he doesn't care, he finally’s getting somewhere.

“Hold up Goldilocks, i said I’d work with you, not the whole damn paper.”

“Don’t get your pants in a twist, folks work outside the office on Wednesdays usually, and it’ll be late enough that we can take up one of the conference rooms without anyone interrupting.” 

The Torpedo smirks now, and Henry already knows what’s coming.

“You sure you’re not trying to seduce me darling?”

“Wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, I don’t really go for guys in spandex,” he retorts.

“Hey! ’S good material for the shit I have to deal with!” He defends, affronted sounding.

“I’m sure, but I’m running late for a lunch date as it is, so just bring the intel you’ve got on’m Wednesday and we’ll converse then.” Not really sure what to do, Henry awkwardly claps him on the shoulder before exiting the alleyway, an excited smile breaking his face in half as he thinks of all the change they could do now.

~*~

Strange enough, it becomes a sort of standing meeting for the next few weeks— Like Alex and Henry were adding a second date night to their schedules. Well a date night where only one of them knew the other’s identity, and where they spent the whole time perusing through stacks of files ranging from the dates and locations of the Ranker’s attacks within the past year, from any new gang activity that had sprung up afterwards. Also a date where Henry studiously sat as far away from a masked Alex as possible, and who remained stiff for the entirety of the two hours they would talk. 

They end up successfully predicting the two next places that the Ranker targets, and it’s a thrill. Alex however makes it a point that Henry isn’t allowed anywhere near the area until Alex has surely staved the Ranker away. It’s a point of contention between them, but it’s a point that Alex won’t budge on.

He knows Henry, knows how he strives for the public’s safety the same ways Alex does, but where Alex was hit by a molecular transmitter when he was only nineteen— giving him powers and abilities beyond comprehension— Henry’s only got a pen and paper as his main weapons of defense. And Alex knows this vendetta runs even deeper than that for him, knows that Arthur— Henry’s dad who played a hero in Hollywood films— was kidnapped and eventually killed by a Luthor family member, directed by Lex behind bars. 

Alex sees the glitter in Henry’s eyes, the vigor embedded in them. And it what makes him want to lock the Ranker up, more than anything else. 

“You’re intense Mountchristen,” Alex tells him on one of those Wednesday nights, can’t help but gaze at the way Henry sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, and how his brows begin to knit together, intent on his goal.

“Eyes to yourself Torpedo,” he retorts shortly, not bothering to even look up.

Part of Alex really appreciates how standoffish he behaves in front of dudes who are so obviously into him that aren’t Alex, but most of him hates the distance, hates the secrets that they’re both keeping from one another. It feels like the foundation between them is literally crumbling, even though they’re both doing this to ultimately protect the other.

“What a strange and convoluted circle you’ve ensnared yourself within,” Nora says on the night of the Sentinel’s first summer fundraising event, popping a bite sized snickers into her mouth as she lounges on her sectional in a little black dress that makes her look like a million bucks.

“You’re really unhelpful,” Alex informs her bluntly, adjusting is tie in the mirror after replying to Henry’s text that they’re headed down to meet him and June in five. 

“Well you know there’s only one sure fire way to escape it,” she crows, smile going snide as she stands up. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve begun drinking June’s crazy person juice,” Alex moans, really needing her to have been on his side for this. 

“You know they called Van Gogh crazy, and he was a genius who saw what others were too dumb to.”

“No Nor, they called him crazy because he ate yellow paint and cut off his ear as a gift.”

Nora cuffs him on the back of the head. “You’re being crass.”

“Ouch,” Alex squints, rubbing the tender spot. “And you’re being especially mean.”

“Only because you’re so dense sometimes,” Nora sniffs. “Now c’mon we were suppose to be there like an hour ago. What were you even doing all this time.”

Alex goes back to checking his reflection, absently gesturing towards the abrasively yellow binder on his coffee stand that he’s begun keeping here, less Henry accidentally finds it while rummaging around in Alex’s place. 

“Just going over some of the information Henry and I have been gathering, reading through it and everything.”

Nora flips it open, perusing through the papers leisurely. “And what have you guys found out in these little trysts of yours?”

“First of all, shut it,” Alex casts her a glare, just for good measure.  “And not much. There’s no real rhyme or reason to his attacks, except we did figure out that like after a month from the initial incident, there’s another one hitting the same place by some of his mysterious henchmen, like a month later— on the very dot.”

“The very dot?” Nora asks slowly, her voice adopting that tension it does when she’s piecing something together she wishes she wasn’t. Like the time she figured out the dude who owned their favorite frozen yogurt place in Brooklyn was actually the same person robbing a series of banks with his uncanny ability to literally turn into gas.

“Yeah—“ Alex turns around, rigid as he prepares for her next blow.

“Well a month ago you guys have it that The Ranker hit up Time Square, don’t you?”

And like a bucket of ice water pouring over him, Alex understands what she’s insinuating immediately.

“The sentinel!”

“June and Henry.”

Before either of them could take another breath, Alex has changed into his gear and lifts Nora up bridal style, racing to them and praying to any God who will listen that they’re not too late.

~*~

The sentinel is holding a special event to celebrate the continuous and substantial donations by the Richards family to their editorial board, with special honors given to the head of the political dynasty, Jeffery Richards.

Professionally, Henry is thankful for their money flow into the Sentinel’s tireless efforts to get meaningful and factual stories out into the public sphere. Personally? Henry thinks he’s the definition of a complete and total twat, and has wished on more than one occasion to give him a swift right hook for his backwards social views and another kick in the gut for his purely one percent focussed fiscal policies. This is why Henry is shocked to find Rafael Luna, Alex’s practical idol, exchanging seemingly pleasant small talk with him near the champaign fountain. But he supposes stranger things have happened, and decides to take a swig of his gin and tonic instead of worrying about it.

Henry must admit that there’s a certain panache— a peculiar charm—  to American parties that can’t ever be replicated in quite the same way.   The people are more boisterous than their English counterparts, more willing to mingle between groups and laugh hysterically to jokes that really don’t warrant as much. Henry thinks it’s funny, especially when he considers how much less these folks drink in comparison to the upper echelon of London society— the class of folks  Henry was born and bred to become the crown jewel of, up until his unceremonial rejection of those trite ideals. Considering where he is now— working to make an actual difference in this city, and surrounded by the most important people in his world, Henry’s thankful so much for his decision.

Speaking of which, Henry sees one of those people,  catching June’s eye from across the room, matched boredom on her face. She tips her glass his way, a small, comforting smile on her lips before mouthing a dramatic, “save me.”

Henry laughs,  finishes his glass and grabs a flute of the wine  to join her but is suddenly accosted  by a older couple made up of a woman  sporting  such large diamonds hanging  off her ears that Henry’s afraid one of them might just tear off, and a man, obviously her husband, who keeps glancing over Henry’s lips and slightly exposed collarbones in the most unsubtle way ever. Jesus fucking Christ, Henry was so close to home base.

“Elias and I saw you leaving that conversation with the Galloways and simply just had to sweep in,” the woman says in lieu of a greeting. Henry recognizes them now. Elias and Barbra Bellington, one of the Harold’s most formidable backers— He reckons he should play nice then.

“I’m flattered,” Henry says with a pleasant grin, shaking her hand and then her husband’s.

“We read that latest entry you did on that masked fellow who’s been terrorizing this city,” the husband explains.

“The Scarlet one.”

“The torpedo,”  Henry nods.

“Yes,” her husband swallows before averting his gaze from Henry’s lips yet again. “You deserve a pulitzer for  finally trying to figure out who he is. It’s been nearly half a decade with him  ravaging these streets and diverting the funds and work  from our officers.”

“A scoundrel by any other name if you ask me.”

Henry is so fucking confused how they got that from his piece.

“Erm, ahem. Thank you both for the kind words, but truly, It was more about his feud with the latest kingpin, the Ranker, than anything else.” Henry tries explaining, hates it when his work gets boiled down to a few salacious bullet points for the headlines. 

“They’re all the same if you ask me, rotten and only here to create chaos in our communities”.

Henry parts his lips to retort, most likely with a too loud  argument that she’s just flat out wrong, but then his eyes focus back on Luna, watching him part ways with Richards, and he’s always been so god damn curious for his own good.

“I’m sorry but I see a colleague of mine that I actually needed to touch base with on a upcoming story,” Henry coughs while excusing himself.  “You don’t mind if I just step away for a moment,” He’s relieved when they nod congenially and promise to find him later on in the evening 

Henry exchanges congenial nods and small grins with his colleagues as he cuts through the throng, stopping in front of Luna with less nonchalance than he would’ve liked, but whatever.

“Henry,” Luna smiles broadly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “I was hoping to see you here.”

“I was happy to see you around,” Henry smiles in turn, wonders if it comes across as painfully awkward as he thinks it does.

“Where’s Alexander?”

“On his way with Nora, I had to stop by a bit earlier for some business with the rest of the staff,” Luna nods and they both take sips of their drinks, perhaps a bit tensely. “So, ahem. I saw you speaking with Richards?”

Luna’s brows hike up, if only slightly.

“Yeah, he’s a big investor in my lab as well as the Sentinel. Wants to help us figure out this newest wave of super mutants.”

Henry pins him with a one eyed squint, confused as all get out why Richards of all people would want to help with something so— Well so scientific.

“I know, I was surprised too,” Luna laughs, reading his expression. “But it’s true! Even had some of his men collect those mole samples I’m sure Alexander has talked your ear off of. They’re really something remarkable Henry.” He trails off into a deeper conversation on what their existence means, but Henry stops listening, the gears in his brain turning at rapid speed. And God, it’s so obvious. How did Henry not notice this before.

“I’ve— I’ve got to go.”

Luna furrows his brows. “Is everything okay?”

“I— I don’t think so,” Henry admits, racing upstairs to the offices where he’s been meeting with the Torpedo these last few weeks. He’s not really sure what he needs to do, or how he can even get the Torpedo’s attention so randomly, but he feels it in his gut that it’s urgent.

Though he’s stopped midway up the stairs, and it’s like his stomach drops out completely once he realizes by who.

“Richards—“

“Mr Mountchristen, I was hoping to get to speak with you.”

Henry feels himself beginning to quake, stepping further back, bit by bit.

“Is— Is that right,” Henry stammers out, wincing when his back hits the wall andRichards keeps on coming closer.

“You’re bright, I saw the tricks you pulled to get the Torpedo’s attention,” he nods slowly. “It was only a matter of time till you or that scarlet scoundrel pieced it together.” 

“So, I’m right. The samples you’ve been giving to Luna’s lab, they were early archetypes of the beasts you’ve been harvesting.”

“And they say blonde’s are dumb.” Richards chuckles, twining a finger in Henry’s hair, close enough for his hot breath to smack Henry in the face.

“So what? You found an alien to harvest the cells from or are they just growing off of you? And why do it? What’s the point of all this?”

“Hmm, well  seeing that you’ll be dead  soon enough,” Richard snarls, clamping a hand around Henry’s neck, and squeezing for good measure. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you how I purposefully exposed myself to the molecular explosion that ravaged the city a few  years ago. It gave me the ability to multiply at a whim, though alas not quickly enough.”

“It took a month for them to fully form,” Henry realizes, squinting when Richards squeezes harder. He claws against the hand Richard’s is using to obstruct his airway, but there’s no hope. “And what,” he wheezes out, seeing stars glitter the distance. “You wanted to create a little army to take over the city?”

“New York should be so lucky!” Richard yells, crashing Henry’s head against the wall with such force that everything begins to fade into darkness. “Ever since that damn Claremont got her hooks into it we’ve gone down the shit hole!” 

Crack.

Henry’s head cracks the wall again, and everything blurs, stars glittering in the distance.

The last thing Henry sees before completely blacking out is the windows shattering open and a dash of red.

And oh.

.-

The next time Henry comes too he’s met by florescent lighting and white sheets, can feel the cool liquid of an IV pumping into his wrist.

He can hear people calling his name, but he can’t focus on it, can’t focus on anything. All he wants is Alex, and he can’t believe the secrets he’s been keeping from Henry all this time. The secrets henry has been hiding himself.

~*~

Alex has been up a total of forty-three hours at this point, but he shrugs off any of the well meaning suggestions given by his friends or the doctors to finally shut his eyes and go to bed. He can’t. He won’t. Not until Henry wakes up permanently and he looks at Alex with his beautiful, cornflower eyes, and smiles at him with that heavenly grin, and twines their fingers into one another. Exactly how they should be. 

God, Alex can’t believe how stupid he’s been. Keeping these secrets from him, trying to protect him all this time, but it ended up pointless. Henry’s here, golden hair fanned on eggshell sheets and blue veins tracing his pale skin and looking like some sort of modern day sleeping beauty—  an etherial being— that Alex can’t dream of ever touching again.

Alex kisses Henry’s hand, swears that he’ll be honest and forthcoming just as soon as he wakes up and Alex  can look back into those bottomless, blue eyes for all the time to come.

.-

The exhaustion must’ve caught up to him, because suddenly everything goes dark and Alex’s next memory is of a gentle hand carding through his hair. He opens his eyes to find Henry peering down at him, crooked grin looking all levels of endeared.

Jesus, Alex is so lost on him.

“Morning gorgeous.” Henry says, still looking far too fragile for Alex’s liking in that hospital robe and with like half a dozen machines hooked up to him, but it doesn’t stop Alex from kissing him with all he has. 

“You fucking bastard, don’t you ever do that to me again.” Alex pleads wetly, hands cupped around Henry’s face and never wanting to let go.

“Well Alexander, if we’re being fair, I think I’ve still got a hundred other chances to unwittingly make you terrified.”

Alex frowns now, the realization slowly coming over him to what Henry’s words are alluding towards.

“You know!”

“I figured it out Torpedo,” Henry says, soft enough so that Alex has to strain to hear him.

“Bu—But when?”

“I think the between the second time Richards tried knocking me out, and you crashing through the office like some sorta renegade. Also you are not slick Alexander, the way you were checking me out during those meetings was frankly obscene.”

Alex feels his cheeks redden, disbelieving laugh punching out of him.

“I can’t help it, you’re really sexy when you’re all in your element.”

Henry smiles sweetly at him, turning his head to kiss one of Alex’s palms still clamped around his face.

“Says the literal superhero that millions of people around the world thirst over.”

Alex sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, wrestling down a grin.

“So you’re not mad that I kept this secret  from you?”

“Oh I’m furious,” Henry corrects. “But I reckon you’ve got a lifetime to explain your actions to me. And I might have been guilty of the same sort of indiscretion, if you squint.”

“Hah, just like a Brit, trying to absolve himself of the blame,” Alex snarks, kissing Henry’s tongue when he sticks it out to waggle at him. 

“Gross.”

“Think you mean sexy."

“Where’s Richards when you need him,” Henry sighs, faux put upon.

“Not funny,” Alex fumes, is only restrained from flicking him on the ear considering his current predicament.

The laugh that Henry lets out right then is something mellifluous and beautiful and what Alex could listen to on a loop for all the eons to come.

“No but truly, what happened to that prick anyhow?” 

“Tied him up with the evidence we collected, and called Officer Amy to make the arrest.” Alex explains, threading his fingers through Henry’s hair. “He’s locked up now. Probably’s gonna stay that way for a while.”

“So it worked out?”

“Henry, no situation in which you are at all injured is things working out,” Alex reproves caustically. 

Henry shakes his head at him. 

“God, such a softy Alexander.”

That time Alex does flick him on the ear and isn’t even sorry about it.

.-

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