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luminnara · 4 years ago

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alpha!erasermic x pregnant!reader | ABO fluff

Request: Hiya! i’m wondering if you can do an alpha! erasermic x pregnant! omega! reader? maybe when both alphas leave their lunch at home and she goes to bring it to them. the reader and both alphas collectively have custody of hitoshi and eri, and the reader is heavily pregnant. preferably a female reader please, and none of class 1-a have met her. this is my first time requesting stuff so i hope i did okay! 😅

You did wonderfully! I love writing cute fluffy stuff like this, and it’s my first time writing any kind of erasermic thing even though I love them so much, so hopefully I did okay! Idk where exactly this sits timeline-wise, don’t worry about it, it’s omegaverse and I can do what I want lol. I took this prompt and sort of RAN with it, too

*also Mirio has his quirk back in this because it’s fun, and the reader has kind of a dodgy past because i wanted to add a little SPICE*

Warnings: a/b/o, pregnancy, the implications of Aizawa’s scarf and all of its uses

You sighed, resting a hand on your swollen belly. “Those two...”

You had only just gotten Eri out of bed, and, upon heading into the kitchen to fix her some breakfast, you saw two lovingly-prepared bento boxes sitting on the counter. Shota and Hizashi must have forgotten them in their hurry to get to UA earlier that morning, and while you knew they could very easily grab something to eat in the cafeteria, you hated the thought of these meals going to waste.

Besides, your inner omega was a bit miffed that they hadn’t taken your home cooked food to work with them. Was Lunch Rush’s food so much better than yours that your alphas would rather eat at school? You refused to believe that, even if his quirk was cooking. There was no way that he could make your alphas a meal that could compare to the kind you always cooked for them, and maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making you extra bristly about it, but you were determined to march right on over to UA and bring them their proper lunches.

Even if you were heavily, heavily pregnant. They’d probably have something to say about you leaving the house and waddling around Musutafu with only Eri as company, but you were tough enough to fend for yourself. And besides, it was only a quick train ride to the station outside the school, and if you did get yourself into any kind of trouble, the city was chock full of pro heroes and their sidekicks, many of whom you were on a first name basis with.

“Eri!” you called, grabbing a bag to carry the boxes in. “Are you dressed yet? We’re going to visit UA!”

You could heard a thump, followed by the sound of little feet thudding as she ran to meet you. When she appeared in the doorway, her eyes were wide with excitement, her long hair falling around her shoulders messily. “Yes!”

“Go brush your hair and then we’ll go,” you laughed, ushering her towards the bathroom.

“Why are we going?” the little girl called.

“Hizashi and Shota left their lunches,” you explained. “We’re bringing them so that the food doesn’t go to waste.”

“Can we visit Deku and Togata?”

You paused to think. You hadn’t actually met any of Shota and Hizashi’s students before, your alphas always preferring that you stay home and away from the sometimes dangerous school they taught at. Well, you knew Hitoshi, of course, and since he had yet to move into the dorms on campus, he still lived at home with the rest of the family. At least he had remembered to grab his lunch. Would your adopted son be embarrassed to see you appearing at his school? Hitoshi always carried himself in a very collected manner, and the thought of being able to show up and pinch his cheeks and coo at him made you laugh.

And you knew that everyone in Class 1-A would be over the moon to see Eri. The little girl that had been rescued from Overhaul was popular amongst the young heroes-in-training, from what you’d heard, and if you were going to go all the way to UA, you’d be damned if you didn’t let her see her friends there.

“Of course we can,” you said with a smile as she came running back in, her hair significantly less tangled. “Ready?”

“Ready!” she beamed up at you.

“Do me a favor and carry this?” you offered her the tote you’d tucked the bento boxes into and she took it from you eagerly, bouncing towards the door.

You grabbed your purse, made sure your keys were inside, and followed her out, taking her free hand. Together, the two of you made your way to the nearest train station, a few neighbors waving hello as you passed. There were no villains to be seen or head of, and the pros you saw out on patrol all looked happy and relaxed. They all knew who you were, some of the betas and omegas approaching to chat about your pregnancy and ask how things were going. The alphas hung back, calling greetings or offering waves, none of them wanting to get too close to a pregnant, mated omega and risk the wrath of your alphas if their scents happened to cling to you.

The journey went smoothly, Eri sticking close to your side the entire way. You were both excited to be going to visit UA--Eri, because she would get to see Deku and Mirio, and you because you hadn’t been to the school in years--and as you stepped off the train and the gates finally came into view, you let out a happy laugh.

“Ready?” you asked Eri, leading her towards the entrance.

“Mhm!” she nodded eagerly, pulling you forward. “Let’s go! Let’s go let’s go let’s go--”

“Hang on, hang on,” you waddled after her as quickly as you could, fishing around in your purse. When you finally found what you were looking for, you pulled out an ID card, holding it up towards the sensor atop the UA Barrier gate. “You have your card?”

“Yep!” Eri said, grabbing the card hanging from the lanyard around her neck and mimicking you.

“Special ID accepted,” a robotic voice chimed. “Welcome to UA High, (y/n) and Eri.”

The gate opened and you led Eri through it, the big school looming just past it. The special ID cards you both had were a result of Shota insisting that you be able to get to UA if you ever needed to. With the upgraded security measures, and so many of the students living in the dorms, it wasn’t easy getting onto the campus without either a student or guest card. You probably technically weren’t even supposed to have one, but no one was going to argue with Aizawa and Yamada when it came to ensuring their omega would be able to get to them in case of emergency.

This wasn’t exactly an emergency, but it was still an important mission, so you had absolutely no qualms about using your special ID privileges today. You just hoped nobody else would be mad about it.

“Hey, is that Eri I see?” a voice called.

You turned to see a blond haired, blue eyed boy jogging towards you and recognized him as Togata. He was dressed in a PE uniform, and as he stopped in front of you, you could see that he was panting.

Eri immediately set the bag down and rushed toward him, running into his open arms. “Lemillion!”

Mirio laughed as he scooped her into a hug. “What are you doing here? Aizawa didn’t mention anything about a visit!”

“Aizawa forgot his lunch today,” you said, nodding towards the bag Eri had dropped. “So we thought we’d bring it and visit.”

Mirio straightened up a bit when he realized you were there. You had to be absolutely covered in your alphas’ scents, and even if they never told any of the students about you, there was no way that Mirio hadn’t figured it out by now. Besides...your bond marks were very big and very visible, one on each side of your neck just below your scent glands. There was no way Mirio didn’t know what that all added up to.

You had never officially met him, but you’d heard plenty about all of UA’s Big Three, and after he and Deku saved Eri from the Shie Hassaikai, you’d heard even more about him. He was selfless, going so far as to sacrifice his own quirk to keep Eri safe and get her away from Overhaul, and for that, you’d always feel a little indebted to him. He’d luckily been able to get it back, but Aizawa had told you that there had been a long period in which nobody was sure it could even be returned to him.

“Oh, s-sorry!” he bowed to you. “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced! I’m Togata Mirio, I was there at the Shie Hassaikai raid--”

“I’ve heard plenty about you,” you laughed as he straightened up again. “I’m (y/n). I’m the stay at home omega that keeps Shota and Hizashi from starving all the time.”

Mirio’s laugh was probably one of the most raucously happy sounds you had ever heard. “We’re all grateful for that! As for me, personally, I’m really glad Eri has such a great mom now, too. And you’ve got more on the way!”

“Sure do,” you groaned, a hand on your lower back as you tried to lean and stretch it out some. “Due date’s in just a couple weeks. Can’t wait to get ‘em outta here.”

“Well, at least you already know how to do the parenting part!” Mirio was still all smiles as Eri grabbed for his hand and he took it, picking up the tote bag as well. “Come on, it’s my free period so I’ll take you to 1-A’s classroom.”

“Thank you, Togata,” you said, hand on your belly as you followed him into the school.

“It’s no problem!” he beamed at you over his shoulder as he led the way. “It’s almost lunch, too. Perfect timing!”

“Is it really?” you glanced up at a clock on the wall, and sure enough, it was nearly noon. “Wow. Guess we took longer than I thought. But...ugh, I didn’t bring any food for myself or Eri...”

“That’s no problem! Lunch Rush always has tons of options in the Grand Mess Hall.” at your slight glare, Mirio added, “...But I’m sure even his best cooking is no substitute for a homemade meal!”

“That’s right,” you growled, waddling along down the hall.

When the three of you reached the 1-A door, Mirio used his permeation quirk to stick his head straight through it rather than knocking, and judging by the resounding scream of surprise that nearly shattered the windows, he had scared Hizashi half to death.

Mirio pulled back and opened the door, revealing a room full of groaning students, all clutching their ears. Hizashi was the only one who seemed unbothered by the sheer volume of the scream he had let out, clutching his chest instead.

“Why can’t you knock like a normal person, dumbass?” a blond boy snarled.

“Bakugou! You shouldn’t swear in front of esteemed upperclassmen!” a black-haired boy with glasses said.

“It’s not just me you’re swearing in front of!” Mirio said, still smiling, like always. With a nod of his head, he tugged Eri into the room.

Everyone lit up, and you even caught Bakugou’s harsh expression softening some at the sight of her.

“Eri!” a freckly, green haired boy exclaimed, jumping up from his seat.

“Deku!” the little girl yelled happily, letting go of Mirio’s hand to run towards him.

You watched as he knelt down to greet her, the rest of the class all getting up, or at the very least leaning over in their seats to say hello. All except Hitoshi, who looked up, made eye contact with you, started to roll his eyes, and then sighed.

Oh, you were so going to embarrass him today.

Hizashi was still trying to catch his breath, but now, with the students all distracted by Eri, he finally had a chance to notice you. You could see his nostrils flare as he recognized your scent, his head whipping around to spot you standing there in the door.

“BABE!” he rushed toward you, pulling you into a hug.

“Hi, Hizashi,” you laughed into his shoulder, clinging to his jacket as he rubbed his scent gland over your hair.

He immediately pulled back, holding you at arm’s length as he looked you over. “What’re you doing here? Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckled. When he glanced down at your swollen belly, you added, “we’re fine.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Okay. Okay, good. Had me worried there for a sec.”

“They came to bring you lunch!” Mirio said, holding up the bag he had carried in for you. “I ran into her and Eri outside while I was out for my daily jog.”

“Togata here was very helpful,” you said. “He even carried that bag for us.”

“Gotta help everyone who needs it, whenever I can!” the teenager gave you a thumbs up.

“Thanks, Mirio.” Hizashi said, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you up against his side. “Means a lot to me that my family stays safe.”

“Family?”

You turned to see all of Class 1-A staring at you.

Hizashi cleared his throat, the sound practically echoing. “Everybody, this is my mate.”

The room suddenly erupted.

“Who is she?”

“Is she a pro?”

“Can’t believe anybody would put up with him...”

“Bakugou, quiet! Don’t be rude!”

“But, wait...” Deku said, still kneeling with Eri. “I thought Eri’s been living with Mr. Aizawa..?”

The students all glanced to each other before their eyes swiveled to you and Hizashi.

“Oh, Hizashi,” you teased. “You never told them?”

“I, uh...” a slight pink tinged his cheeks as he blushed.

Luckily, before he had the chance to stumble over his words any longer, he was saved by the appearance of a very tired, very disgruntled, Eraserhead.

“What the hell is going on and why the hell are you screaming in my classroom?” he growled from the doorway.

Hizashi turned the two of you to face him, and you saw the anger immediately drain from Aizawa’s face.

“...What are you doing here?” he asked, his bloodshot eyes full of concern. “Everything okay?”

“Hi, Papa!” Eri chimed from her spot next to Deku.

“...Hello, Eri. Why are you also here?”

“You both forgot your lunches,” you said, practically scolding them. “I worked hard on those!”

“So you came all the way here just to bring us lunch? You realize we have an entire cafeteria here, right?”

“Don’t even think about it,” you growled.

“You shouldn’t be walking across Musutafu without at least Hitoshi with you. It’s too dangerous.”

At the mention of his name, everyone’s heads swiveled to look at Shinso. He sighed, slumping back in his chair and dragging a hand down his face.

“You know, if you wouldn’t forget the lunches that I so lovingly put all that hard work into, I wouldn’t even have to go all the way across Musutafu to bring them to you.” you said haughtily, nose up in the air as you stared your alpha down. “And besides...you know better than anyone that I can take care of myself, and Eri, no matter how pregnant I am.”

Aizawa sighed. He knew there was no arguing with you when you got in a mood like this, and besides...you were already there.

And you were right.

Before he could even come up with something to say, the bell rang, signaling that it was time for lunch, and soon, you were walking down the hall between your two alphas, Eri riding on Deku’s shoulders as Class 1-A flooded out along with you.

You ended up sitting in the mess hall with the students, sandwiched between Hizashi and Shota. Shota didn’t seem entirely pleased with it, mentioning several times that he’d much rather be in the teachers’ lounge where it was quieter, but Eri was far too happy to be with Class 1-A for him to actually tear her away from them. She was across from you, sitting next to Deku and a brown haired girl you learned was named Ochako. Mirio had left to go find his own friends, the other two members of The Big Three, and you could see him just a few tables over, laughing loudly with a blue haired girl with a boy with pointy ears looked like he was trying to will himself out of existence next to them.

“It’s so exciting that Mr. Aizawa has a whole family!” Ochako said.

“And with Present Mic, too,” Tsu, the frog girl, said from her spot next to her.

“How long have you been together?” the pink girl, Mina, asked.

“Don’t ask so many personal questions! We should respect their privacy.” Iida said, in true class rep fashion.

When Shota only offered a grunt in reply, too focused on his lunch to actually talk with his homeroom class, and with Hizashi already stuffing his face, you took it upon yourself to chat.

“Oh, I don’t mind the questions!” you said with a good natured laugh. “I met Hizashi and Shota when we all went to school together. Then we lost touch, because I...well, I sort of...chose a different life path than they did.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Hizashi slurped up his soba.

“Here.” you looked up to see Hitoshi had brought you and Eri each a tray of food, setting them down in front of the two of you.

“You’re so good to your mother,” you cooed, reaching up to grab his cheek.

He dodged you expertly, ducking out of the way and going to sit with Bakugou and his friends on Deku’s other side. You narrowed your eyes at him, making sure he knew that he couldn’t run forever, and as Denki watched the exchange, he spoke up.

“...Wait. You didn’t become a pro hero?” he asked.

“I took the hero course here at UA.” you explained, grabbing your chopsticks. “I ended up dropping out before graduation. This is actually my first time back since then.”

“So...” Deku seemed nervous. “Were you, uh...”

“A villain?” you asked.

When he nodded quickly, you laughed and offered a nod of your own.

“Yeah, I suppose I was. My quirk used to be wild, and hard to control...I got so frustrated when I wasn’t making any progress with it that I decided to just leave school. I was mad at everyone, and I fell in with people who felt the same way. One thing leads to another, and next thing you know, I’m running from the loudest, most obnoxious pro hero in the city.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Hizashi, who was doing his best not to choke on his lunch.

“And he never caught me,” you said adoringly, leaning against his shoulder.

“I never caught you on my own,” he corrected.

“Made my ears bleed a few times, I think.”

“Yes, and I don’t regret that.” he pressed a cute, fluttery little kiss against the tip of your nose. “You were absolutely going to kill me.”

“Not absolutely!” you protested.

“I had to rescue him.” Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff and tired, like always. “Had to cancel your quirk and keep you tied down until the others could get to us.”

You smirked at your first memory of his scarf and what it could do, and as you did so, he realized that he had just admitted to tying you up with it in front of his idiot students.

“And that’s when I fell in looooove,” you grabbed his arm, batting your lashes at him obnoxiously.

“Not another word.” he growled.

The students were all staring at you with wide eyes. All except Hitoshi, who was rolling his.

“I guess you could say I was reformed,” you said, grabbing some noodles. “Then one thing led to another, and...here we are.” You patted your belly.

“That’s so romantic,” Mina sighed, leaning her chin on her hand.

“What’s your quirk?” Ochako asked.

“I could show you!” you said eagerly, moving to stand.

“Absolutely not.” Shota held onto your arm and forced you to sit down again. “You are due in two weeks. No nonsense until after the pups are born.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now.

“Fine,” you mumbled with a sigh. “I never get to have fun anymore.”

“But pups are so exciting!” the invisible girl, Hagakure, said.

“Yeah!” Mina agreed.

Then, the rest of the girls bombarded you with questions.

“How many are you having?”

“What day are they coming?!”

“Can we meet them?”

“Mr. Aizawa, please can you bring them in to the dorms??”

“--But Mr. Aizawa, this is the safest place in Japan. There’s no way anything bad would happen to them--”

“--And besides, (y/n) has a super strong quirk, right? She said so!”

“Come on, just let us see the brats when they’re old enough to travel.”

The sound of Bakugou’s voice had everyone staring at the blond boy.

“...What?” he bristled. “It’s not like I care, I just want the girls to shut up.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Bakugou.” Kirishima snorted.

“...maybe.” Aizawa relented, eager to shut them all up.

That was enough for the girls, and they immediately began talking chattering about the cutest baby clothes, the best toys, and then the differences between their own upbringings. You enjoyed listening to them throughout the rest of lunch, and by the time the hour had ended, you were sad to be leaving.

“Hang on, hang on,” Hizashi said as you took Eri’s hand to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” you furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“We told you,” Shota said, standing with his hands in his pockets. “We don’t want you wandering around the city.”

“And I told you, I’m fine--”

“Just stay here for the rest of the day.”

“...What?”

“We’ll all go home together later.” Hizashi smiled. “You and Eri can hang out in the lounge. I bet Midnight would love to pester you about the bump, too.”

You smiled, walking towards your alphas. “Alright. Alright, yeah. That sounds nice.”

As Class 1-A lingered at the end of the hall, watching for as long as they could get away with, Denki elbowed Hitoshi in the side.

“Dude, your mom is--”

“Don’t you dare say hot.” Shinso growled.

“Actually, I was gonna say badass, but that too--”

The purple haired boy glared at him. “Shut up, Denki.”

“What? It’s a compliment!”

#erasermic #alpha!erasermic #alpha aizawa #alpha hizashi #aizawa fluff #erasermic x reader #abo #omegaverse #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #shoto aizawa #aizawa x hizashi #hizashi yamada #present mic #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x reader

4K notes · View notes

cherryatiny · 4 years ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐦𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑟�� 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 <333

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

Letting the last droplets of water fall on your exposed shoulders, you turned the water off, putting the showerhead to its previous place after showering the bubbles of your body. Drying your body with a soft towel you prepared beforehand, you slipped into your underwear, opening the bathroom door and going to the bedroom, being met with the sight of your husband Hongjoong, who was currently laying on your shared bed, watching some things on his phone with headphones plugged in.

His eyes peeked on your exposed figure and as they landed on your stomach, they immediately widened, you could see how he swiftly jumped from his place, falling on the ground from the unsuccessful jump. Collecting himself, he got on his knees in front of you. „What the fuck are you doing Joongie?” Hongjoong was switching between looking at your belly and looking up at your face.

„Oh my, you grew a baby bump, oh my god, that's my baby inside you.” His hands cupped the bottom of your belly, poking it with amazement in his eyes, trying to find out if it's really a baby growing inside of you. „Waah, neither of these feel real, whether the fact that there's a tiny clump of cells growing inside of you, that will eventually turn into a human being or the fact that you're so fucking cute with this cute little bump. Literally, how did a deserve you?“ letting out a small chuckle at his words full of amazement, you kneeled to be on his eye level, looking deep into his sparkling dark eyes and pecking the tip of his nose, putting your hands on top of his. „I have the same question, Kim Hongjoong.“

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

Stirring the veggie mix in the wok, you rummaged through the cabinets, looking for soy sauce to add to the vegetables. Humming to a random song you heard on a radio a few days ago, swinging your hips to the rhythm. „What are you cooking, darling?“ Almost jumping from your spot as your husband Seonghwa unexpectedly wrapped his arms around your waist, you tried to calm your breath still shocked from the unanticipated touch.

„Hwa, baby, you should work on this awful habit of yours, I felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest. Please let me know beforehand before you talk or hug me from behind. Stirred veggies with rice and tofu.“ Nuzzling his face into your neck like a hurt puppy, he apologized for scaring you in a tiny barely hearable voice.

Embracing you in a tight hug that kept you close to him as you cooked. „Hm, wait, what is it?“ Turning your head around to look at his confused face. „What do you mean?“ His hands started to caress your lower stomach, poking and pressing on it. „What are you doing Hwa? It tickles!“ Not stopping his actions you slipped out of his embrace, turning your body around to face him.

„Wait, let me touch it again, I swear it changed,... like the structure of your stomach, it's different.“ Kneeling in front of you he lifted your t-shirt, looking at it and resuming his previous actions. Squirming from the tickling touch of his fingers, you let out soft squeals. „Oh my god, Y/N, it really changed. Could it be the baby? Oh my, right, it must be the baby, your lower belly is rounding.“

„You weirdo, examining the changes in the structure of my stomach.“

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

As you finished cutting some fruit for the boys, you placed the bowls on the coffee table in their living room. Your husband Yunho sitting on the couch watching as you took care of his friends, his hand wrapping around you and pulling you back to his lap, your back falling onto his chest. „Rest baby, you don't need to take care of them, they're adults, even though they sometimes don't act that way.” nodding and smiling at his playful advice. „But I want to, you know I have to train these motherly skills for our baby.” whispering into his ear for only him to hear, you turned around to face the boys who were half-arguing about who's the best character in a show they're watching.

„Eat up, I cut those fruits for you, you need vitamins.” before you even finished your sentence, Yeosang was already stuffing his mouth with watermelon, making you all burst out laughing. „No worries Y/N, you should rest, also can I ask you something?” nodding to Hongjoong's hesitant words, he asked you the question he was referring to.

„I don't want to come off rude or anything, so please don't take it that way, but isn't your baby bump showing already?” the man underneath you quickly straightened up, bending down to look at your stomach because of his hyung's words. „Oh my god, Y/N, why didn't you tell me your baby bump is showing.” turning around to face Yunho's surprised face. „I thought you noticed..?”

Wooyoung and San let out loud laughter at how flushed Yunho was. „Yunho you should've seen how you looked right now, you really didn't notice Y/N's baby bump? I can't with you. Try to use your eyes sometimes. But to be honest, who would've thought that your sperm would grow to this size, impressive.” Those two couldn't stop laughing, Yunho only put on his expression of a hurt puppy as you pecked his nose with reassuring words. „Don't worry Yuyu, it might work out next time.”

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

When Yeosang found out that you're pregnant, he couldn't hide the happiness. He was so excited but so scared at the same time. Buying a lot of educational books and attending workshops, to know how to become the best dad. At the same time, he wanted your pregnancy to be memorable so you two can have lovely reminiscences to remember in a few years. Apart from the basic medical record, you two built up a habit of taking pictures every week, to see how your body changed as the weeks of your pregnancy passed.

„Okay okay, go there Y/N, keep still as every week.” Snapping the picture of your figure standing in front of the white wall from side and front. You sat down on Yeosang's lap, arms wrapping around his neck as you looked at the screen of the camera in his hands, switching between today and last week's photos. „Wah, Y/N look! Your baby bump got visible since the last week. Aww, our baby is growing well inside you.” smiling at his adorable attitude. „Aww Yeosangie, are you crying?” Amazed at how quick you noticed it, he swiftly wiped the tears off his eyes. „No I'm not crying, it was just dirt in my eye.”

„One day, when our baby will be older, I will tell it a story about how its father teared up when it was growing in my womb.“ Giving you a death glare, Yeosang turned off the camera with the photos he took. „Try to embarrass me in front of my child and I'm going to sublime into another galaxy.“ Chuckling at his sarcastic remark you hugged his muscular frame. „Please don't, I'd have no one to tease then, Sangie.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

Looking at yourself in the body-length mirror, you examined your body, hugging your frame and trying to cover the parts you didn't like. Especially the gained pregnancy fat on the lower stomach. Turning around, trying to find the angle you looked the best in. Not aware of your husband San observing your movements, while leaning on the door frame. His voice scaring the heck out of you, as he spoke. „What are you doing, darling?“ Turning around you looked at him, your hands wrapped around your body to cover as much as possible. „I- Don't you think I gained weight, Sannie? Especially some fat on my stomach and I'm not even that far in my pregnancy. What am I going to do? I feel so bad.“ San put on his pout at your negative remarks, approaching you, he stood behind you, looking at you in the mirror.

„Baby, I can't explain how much it hurts me to hear you thinking this way of yourself. You're absolutely gorgeous Y/N, darling, it's not any belly fat, and even if it was, it doesn't matter, it's your cute little baby bump. That's our baby that's showing and you shouldn't talk so negative about it.“ Kissing your temple and shoulders, he dropped on his knees, hands falling onto your bump, caressing it and letting his lips brush against your skin, giving it small pecks full of love. „Please Y/N, I'll do anything I can if it helps you overcome your insecurities. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on. You're also the woman that carries my child, and you have my full respect for that. And this cute little baby bump makes you even prettier honey. Now, should I make you some snacks? You need to eat meals with a lot of nutrients so you and our baby can be healthy.“ Smiling at his heart-warming words, you took his hand that tugged you out of the room, taken aback by how did you deserve a man like this.

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

„Mhm Y/N... I'm so exhausted“ your husband Mingi whined, coming out of the shower after working out. „Do you wanna watch a movie? Come on, lay yourself on me and relax, Mingi. There won't be as many opportunities to do this from now on, so lay down.“ Nodding the tall figure of your husband approached you, sitting down on the couch, you spread your legs to create a space for him to lay in, before turning on the TV with your favourite series playing. As Mingi was about to lay his head on your lower belly, he noticed the slight change in its size. Lifting your t-shirt he saw how your lower belly rounded.

„Oh my god- Y/N! Why didn't you tell me your baby bump was showing omo! Y/N Y/N, that's my baby!“ chuckling at his excitement over your belly rounding, you agreed to his words. „Yes, Mingi, that's your baby. Now lay down please, so we can watch the series.“ Brushing your fingers through his brown locks, you tried to softly push his head to lay in your lap. „I don't want to Y/N. You lay in my lap, I don't want to lay on your belly, what if I hurt the baby? Oh my, that would be horrible, I'm sure that since the baby is growing already, it would feel suffocated by my head laying on your baby bump.“ Raising your eyebrows at his gibberish, trying to hold back the laughter at his cute dumbness. „Mingi, please, respectfully shut the fuck up and lay on my lap, you don't want to anger a pregnant woman by not agreeing with her. You won't hurt the baby, so lay down.“ Putting on his 'scared puppy' expression, he listened to you, laying carefully on your belly, your fingers playing with his soft hair, making ponytails and braiding them as you two watched the series.

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

Clipping your fancy earrings and necklace set, you finished adorning your look with accessories. Looking at your figure in the tight-fitting velvet dress, that perfectly fitted the occasion of Wooyoung's business gala. Your eyes dropping at the baby bump that was getting more visible as the weeks of your pregnancy went on, especially in this dreses. But maybe it was just your detailed eye since no one appeared to notice, not even your husband.

Walking down the stairs to the living room where your husband Wooyoung was, already dressed in a well-fitting tuxedo. Playing some games on his phone while waiting for you to finish dressing and stuff. „Woo, I'm done.“ He turned around to look at you, his eyes widening at the ethereal beauty. „Waau, baby, that dress is breath-taking, absolutely worth the money. You're gorgeous, you look like an absolute goddess. Can you turn around?“ Turning around on your heels, showing off yourself in all angles for him to see, his cheerful clapping, like he was your number-one fan, let you gain confidence in yourself. „I don't remember marrying a model, but you for sure look like one.“ coming closer to you his arms wrapped around your frame, one hand falling onto your lower stomach. Leaning closer to you, Wooyoung whispered into your ear: „Especially with that baby bump, you look so cute, it adds to your beauty.“

„I didn't know you noticed...“ Wooyoung pouted at your words because he didn't know that was what you thought of him. „Of course I noticed, what do you take me for?... I just didn't want to mention it, because I didn't know how you felt about that and didn't want to make you insecure by mentioning your baby bump growing, but I just couldn't help myself, it looks too cute on you.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

Work tired the heck out of you and Jongho couldn't watch your soulless state full of stress anymore. So his surprising gift for you in a form of a wellness trip was very appreciated. Having a week to spend to focus on yourself, your husband and the little bundle of joy in your womb, was the best thing he could give you. So as you two packed your belongings, and Jongho drove you two to the wellness hotel you could finally breathe out.

„Come on Y/N, let's take our luggage to the hotel room and then dive straight into a hot tub, I feel like my muscles are as stiff as rock.“ taking the luggage out of your hand, Jongho took them to your hotel room, your body fell on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed. „Get up, princess, we gotta go swimming and then we can go to a hot tub. Light exercise is important for a pregnant woman and her baby.“ groaning, you took the swimsuit Jongho threw at you and went to the bathroom to change, putting some dress onto it so you're not bare when you walk through the hotel.

Taking a deep breath after the hour of swimming, you thought you'd collapse from how exhausting it was. „Jongho I'm gonna kill you, you told me that we were gonna rest the whole week.“

„But exercising is resting as well. Okay then, if you're so exhausted, you can be glad that you have such a caring and strong husband, who has no problem with carrying you to the hot tub.“ Glaring at him, you could sense that he was just teasing you with his words. You yelped as he suddenly picked you up, carrying you bridal style, before getting into the hot tub with you still in his hands.

As he sat down with you still in his hands, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling yourself into his chest. Not aware of his eyes glaring and examining your stomach. „Baby.“ raising your eyebrows at him, thinking he wanted to tell you something, since baby was one of the many nicknames he had for you. „Baby. There's a baby in you. I can see it, oh my- Can I touch it?“

i couldn't find Mingi's gif from this set, i'm gonna cry

#ateez #dad!ateez #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Rain Check

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2860

Warnings: Lots of sexual tension and pining and ~heated glances~ or whatever but no actual sexy times. Author plays fast and loose with the canonical details of Spencer’s teaching sabbatical, as well as the logistics of grad school. There’s a teacher-student thing going on, but no weird age gap or whatever. Excessive objectification of Spencer’s hands, because really, what else do you expect from me?

A/N: For the “mutual pining” square on my @cmbingo card!

You trail off. Spencer’s staring like he’s waiting for you to say something else, even though you’ve been rambling for a while now.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

“For what?”

“You probably didn’t need to know all of that.”

He blinks, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.

Something about him makes you want to open up; it’s been almost an hour of nonstop conversation, and you haven’t told him what you’re studying or even where you’re studying, but you feel like you’ve known him for years. You’ve talked about your favorite books and assorted high school traumas. He keeps insisting he’s not good at small talk anyway.

“I really like listening to you talk,” he says, soft and sweet. “I just… I like watching you talk, too. I noticed your eyelashes and — and I got distracted.”

Your cheeks feel hot, suddenly. You know the feeling.

“Oh,” you manage.

There’s something about his hands; they’re just very fucking distracting, and every time he tucks his hair behind his ears, you lose your train of thought. It doesn’t help that he keeps absently-mindedly twirling a pen as he talks, long dexterous fingers moving with precise little movements, and — yeah. Distracting is putting it mildly. There’s this constant low flicker of want in your gut.

“It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much in a bar,” he admits, with a self-conscious little half-smile.

“Me too.”

Probably helps you’re not actually inside the bar. You’re tucked in the corner of the deck, leaning on the railing, and even though it’s crowded, you’ve barely noticed your surroundings. Every time you look at him, the rest of the world feels distant, like one of those perfect movie moments where the crowd parts and the hero and heroine walk toward each other in slow motion, meeting in a spotlight as everything else fades away.

It’s just… those moments don’t happen, not in real life and certainly not to you. It’s never as simple as that: see — want — have.

You can’t help but hope that this time might be different.

Spencer’s smiling, and the way he looks at you with those big soft eyes makes you feel like you’re standing in a spotlight. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It’s just unusual, this jittery, excited, not-exactly-stage-fright thing happening in your chest.

You have to remind yourself to breathe.

The pause stretches a bit too long, and in an effort to fill the silence you blurt out, “What are you thinking about?”

He hesitates, and his tongue slides along his lower lip, drawing your attention to his plush pink mouth as he says, “I was thinking—”

“Spence! There you are!” someone says loudly, and you’d be embarrassed by the way you jump, startled, if Spencer didn’t do the exact same thing.

“Hey. Emily. Um… what’s up?” His voice cracks. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar; it’s flattering and oddly endearing.

“We have a case.” The woman seems to be holding back a smile as she glances apologetically at you. “Meet you up front.”

Spencer is visibly disappointed as he turns back to you. He gives you a helpless sort of shrug, and for a second, neither of you say anything.

Your throat feels tight as your eyes lock on Spencer’s parted lips again. It’s been such a long time since you felt this drawn to a person; his closeness feels hypnotic.

“I’d like to see you again,” he says shyly. “I — can you—”

“Phone number?” you supply. His hands flutter and his eyebrows rise, like he forgot, for a second, that cell phones exist. Then he pats his pockets, pulls his out, and passes it to you. Once your number is saved, you give it back with a small smile.

“I’ll probably be out of town for a few days, and then — maybe next weekend,” he says.

“I’d really like that,” you admit, trying to make yourself take a step back. “This was — yeah. I’m glad I met you.”

“Spencer!” someone says, from the door, and he waves them off without turning to look.

“Earlier, when you asked—” He pauses, frowning, shifting his weight like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I was thinking about how much I’d like to kiss you.”

His voice is soft and husky, and it cracks on the last word like maybe his throat is tight too. You feel hot all over.

You never even shook hands; there’s been no physical contact whatsoever between the two of you, and now your head is spinning with the urge to reach out, to touch, to get closer... but it feels like you missed your opportunity for that — it doesn’t feel right, not when you know it’d be over much too quickly. You can tell Spencer feels it too.

Once two magnets snap together, it’s a lot harder to separate them.

“Rain check on that,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, raising one hand in an awkward wave as he steps back.

This is Spencer, by the way. I’m really glad I met you.

The text comes in just an hour or so later, when you’re sitting in the cab on your way home, and you smile so wide it feels like your cheeks might split with it.

The giddiness lasts until Tuesday morning, when you walk into the first session of your six-week-intensive graduate seminar and see Spencer at the white board, writing down page numbers for your reading assignment.

Your eyes lock, and there’s another of those moments where you can’t see anything other than him. It’s not so pleasant this time, though.

Spencer drops his pen, and you promptly forget how to walk, stumbling and spilling coffee down your front. You curse so loudly that the rest of the class turns to stare at you.

To add insult to injury, the only open seat is directly across from Spencer’s.

Fantastic.

You spend the next hour and a half trying very hard to avoid eye contact, and for the most part, you’re successful. He doesn’t seem to want to look at you either.

You do sneak one glance, though, and he’s just as pretty in the harsh fluorescent light of the classroom as he was in the golden glow of the bar lights. It seems really fucking unfair.

If it were any other class, you would consider dropping it, but you were lucky to get a spot; this is big for your resume. It’s a special, one-time-only class, and your advisor had described the guest professor as “a genius, and one of the leading names in his field.”

...fuck.

Spencer dismisses the class. You start packing hurriedly, convinced he’s going to ask you to stay back, but you get out the door without incident. You’re already halfway down the hall when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Can we talk?

It’d be so easy to lie, say you have somewhere to be, put the rejection off for another day, but instead you take a deep breath and turn around.

Spencer is sitting right where he was, except now he’s cross-legged in the chair, twirling a pen and frowning at it like it contains the mysteries of the entire universe. He gives you a twitchy attempt at a smile, eyes wide with worry.

You move closer, sitting down next to him, trying to ignore those fucking fingers as he plays with the pen. This would be a whole lot easier if he would stop doing that, because it’s just like the bar — the same hot, fluttering sensation low in your belly, no matter how much you try to ignore it now.

“I thought you worked for the FBI,” you mumble and he lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh.

“I do,” he says ruefully. “I just — also teach, sometimes?”

“Yeah. I got that.”

His tongue does that slow swipe across his lower lip. You bite your own lip, trying not to stare, and Spencer drops the pen with a clatter.

“Sorry,” he says, shoving both hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry if I — if this is — is this going to make you uncomfortable?”

You frown, looking at him blankly for a second, because that was so not the reaction you expected. “Uncomfortable?”

“Knowing that I — that I’m attracted to you? I’m aware of the power imbalance inherent in the situation and I promise I would never—”

“Present tense?” you blurt out, and Spencer stops, blinking at you.

“Well… yes. I thought that was obvious. I meant it, you know; I don’t just meet people like that,” he says, agitated. “It’s usually difficult for me to talk to strangers, and you’re — you’re just — yes. I’m attracted to you.”

“I figured you would think I was immature, and — I mean, it’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. “I usually try to avoid modeling my life on Van Halen songs.” He gives you a blank look and you add hastily, ��Never mind. Point is, a student with a crush, throwing themselves at a professor? Seems like a recipe for embarrassment.”

“Oh,” he says, as a smile spreads across his face. “So… maybe after the class is over, we could—”

“Yeah?”

Spencer is blushing. Jesus pogo-jumping Christ, you want to kiss him.

“It’s just six weeks. We’ll keep it strictly professional — appropriate — for six weeks.” The words are quiet, all husky and promising, and you can’t tell whether it’s intentional or not, but something about that tone sounds very fucking inappropriate. “And then… we’ll take that rain check.”

You nod and clear your throat. “You’re on.”

SIx weeks, two classes a week, ninety minutes per class. Easy enough.

It’s not easy. Not in the fucking slightest.

Part of you wishes he could be a bad teacher, or something. If he was boring — if he had an obnoxious laugh — something. Instead, every goddamn minute spent in his classroom seems like another reason to fall for this guy.

And yeah, sure, he’s pretty. You catch yourself staring, sometimes: his long lashes, the hint of gold in his eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline, the messy hair… and you’re not the only one. It seems like the entire class is crushing on him by the end of the second meeting, boys and girls alike, and maybe you would make fun of the Indiana Jones-style lash-fluttering that’s aimed his way if you weren’t guilty of doing the same thing yourself.

Once word gets around that there’s a cute new professor in the criminology department, rumors start to fly left and right. You’ve heard other students talking about him, speculating about the apparently “way more badass than you’d think” Doctor Reid. You hear stories about how he got shot once — was kidnapped and tortured — overdosed on heroin — saved a train full of people by talking down a lunatic with a gun — hooked up with a movie star — went to jail for murder — you name it, every story more far-fetched than the last.

Well, he did mention getting shot one time, but you’re pretty sure the rest are too absurd to be true.

Either way, it’s not the looks or the legends that have you hopelessly head-over-heels.

It’s the way he lights up when he gets started on a subject that interests him. It’s the joy in his expression when a student asks a good question, or when they draw the right conclusion; his smile is bright and brilliant every time.

The first time one of those smiles is aimed in your direction, along with a half-shouted, “Correct!” and an excited wave of his pen, you’re just about blinded. It quickly becomes one of the driving goals of your day-to-day life: make Spencer smile.

He’s beautiful, in those moments when he’s grinning and enthusiastic, but the quiet moments are even worse.

Sometimes he stares as you work your way through a train of thought, eyes glinting as he fixes them on you with a breathtaking intensity and this fierce pride. Sometimes, his voice is firm and sharp, and sometimes when he says things like, “Yes, exactly like that,” it sounds so much dirtier than it should.

Sometimes — sometimes — once or twice or a dozen times — you fantasize about that voice. You’re only human.

You never realized there was such a thing as a “praise kink,” but… yeah. That about sums it up.

At first you worry that he’ll lose interest: that you’ll say something stupid or he’ll find someone else, because in your experience with men, they don’t wait around for six hours, let alone six weeks, once they’ve realized they can’t immediately have what they want. Instead, it only gets worse as the weeks pass.

It’s nothing obvious, nothing that could be labeled as inappropriate — you still haven’t touched Spencer, not so much as an accidental brush of his hand against yours when he passes back a graded essay. It’s just that his gaze lingers, whenever he looks in your direction, just a moment longer than it would on anyone else. Every time your eyes meet, you have a hard time remembering that the rest of the world exists. It might as well just be the two of you. There’s this heat between you, this crackling electricity, like touching a live wire every single time, like you can’t pull yourself away to break the current.

It’s the longest six weeks of your life.

“That’s our time,” Spencer says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get your essays marked and returned to you before break, and on Sunday evening, I’ll submit your final grades, at which point—” His eyes flick to you, and you bite your lip. “— my responsibilities as your professor are complete. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Hi,” Spencer says, without preamble, when you pick up the phone on Saturday evening. “This is — um. This is Spencer?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning so hard you can barely say, “Yeah, I know.”

“Right. Um… where are you?”

“Just dropped off a few library books.”

“I got grades done a little early,” he says hesitantly. “Do you want to… meet me at my office, maybe? We could go out for dinner?”

You’ve never been there before, but you know where it is. Open office hours with Spencer always seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, because your self-control only goes so far.

“Sounds good,” you say, voice strained, heart racing. “Be there soon.”

You walk fast.

The building is mostly deserted, at this hour, and as you walk quickly down the hall, the catch and release of breath in your lungs seems too loud for your quiet surroundings.

You might be panicking a little bit. There’s still a part of you that’s just waiting for him to change his mind, to realize how dorky and awkward you are, to find someone more polished or accomplished or… something — fuck, this seems to good to be true.

Spencer has one of the old, cramped temporary offices used by visiting professors, and even though he’s only been here for a month and a half, he’s amassed quite a collection of books in the small space. When you step through the open door, he’s got his sleeves rolled up as he places a couple books gently in a box. He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh, making it even more hopelessly touseled.

“Hey,” you say, and he turns around, wide-eyed and nervous for a moment before a smile — one of the brilliant too-bright ones you’ve become so fond of — transforms his face.

“Hi! Um, I’ll come back tomorrow to finish cleaning, I was just — we could go out, I don’t have to — dinner? Are you hungry?” He picks up a pen from the cluttered desk, twirling it like he just really needs something to do with his hands; he seems just as anxious as you feel. It’s comforting, for some reason. At least you’re both awkward dorks.

“Not hungry,” you say shyly. You close the door, slow and deliberate.

Spencer’s eyes widen and then go dark, all heavy-lidded and heated.

He drops the pen, closes the distance between you in two long strides, and cups your face in his hands before kissing you, deep and urgent, dizzyingly perfect. It’s desperate, after all this time, all that pent-up longing and suppressed electricity surging through you all at once, making you gasp at the sharp incredible sting of his teeth nipping your lower lip.

It’s one hundred percent worth the wait.

You’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss, but you sway closer anyway, trying to follow his mouth, and blink like you’re coming out of a trance. His lips are red and swollen.

“Rain check on dinner?” he asks. His voice is suggestive and smoky — there’s nothing appropriate about it.

When you nod, he just reaches behind you and locks the door.

Smutty bit is now here!

More CM fic here!

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction

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vhenadahls · 4 years ago

Text

the remnants of the life i used to live here in eden

After Tali is exonerated, she decides to give Pippa Shepard a tour of the Rayya.

G, 2600 words.

“Tali’Zorah, in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges.”

Admiral Raan’s voice is still steady and professional, a proper admiral’s voice, but it’s lighter than it’s been the entire time they’ve been on the Fleet. Tali sags forward against the railing in front of her and Pippa, relief exuding from her entire body. The garden plaza erupts with a buzz of chatter, blotting out both Raan’s and Shepard’s next words - not that Tali is sure she would’ve heard them anyways, her own heart is beating so loud. She hasn’t been exiled, and Shepard hasn’t revealed her father’s treachery, and when she woke up on the Normandy today she definitely had not expected this to be the way her day went.

The admirals end the trial, and people start to stream out of the garden plaza, still buzzing with conversation and gossip and thoughts and theories. Tali drags Pippa over to speak with each of the admirals, pointedly keeping the conversation with Admiral Xen blessedly short, and to thank Reegar and Veetor yet again for speaking up for her. Eventually they make it back to the corridor outside the plaza, Garrus trailing behind them. Looking up at the achingly familiar patched-together entranceway, she makes a split-second decision. “Garrus, you go on back to the Normandy. We’ll catch up.”

Garrus looks at Pippa for confirmation. She glances back at Tali, who knows her body language is telegraphing her excitement but that Pippa and Garrus won’t know what it means. After a moment Shepard nods, and Garrus walks back up the corridor to the docking bay the Normandy is in.

Pippa turns to face Tali full-on, a wide grin visible through the viewscreen of her helmet. “Well then, Miss vas Normandy, what’s got you so excited?”

Okay, maybe Pippa’s not so bad at quarian body language as she thought. She pushes that aside and bounces from foot to foot “We’re on the Rayya. It’s my birth ship. I thought I’d take you on a tour.”

Pippa’s mouth drops open behind her viewscreen - Tali’s learned this one, a display of shock or awe for many species, not just humans. “A tour? Really? Is that allowed?”

Laughing, Tali links her arm through Pippa’s and steers her towards the trading plaza. “Probably not, but I doubt they’re going to say anything after today.”

The trading plaza, just a short walk down the corridor from the garden plaza, is also achingly familiar and almost just as she remembers it. The people and items in it are different, of course, but it’s the same design as always. Bank of lockers on the back wall, all different sizes, all full of things someone didn’t need but someone else could use. Rows of desks for anyone to hawk wares, services, whatever it is they can do or make or trade that others might want. It’s loud, crowded, full of people speaking Khelish, people she can still understand if she turns off her translator. A wave of homesickness washes over her, even though she’s standing right in the middle of the ship she grew up on. She won’t live here again, not on the Rayya, even if she does come back to the Flotilla.

Trying to disengage from that feeling, she turns back to Pippa, whose grin has spread even wider. “Where are we now? It looks like a market.” Her eyes dart back and forth across the plaza, head turning so rapidly she looks like a top.

“Kind of,” Tali says, leading the way to the stall of a quilter she remembers from before her Pilgrimage. “We don’t use credits within the Flotilla. Needs like food, water, and medicine are doled out as needed, and you trade for other things. Trade your work, your surplus supplies, information, whatever you have. That’s what this is for - this is where people trade what they can. The lockers on the wall,” she points, “are for people to leave items they don’t want anymore, and someone else can take them. Other people make things to sell here. Quilts, suit adornments, and so on. And musicians and storytellers and dancers can show off their skills.” She points again, to a musician and a dancer attracting a small audience in the opposite corner.

“No credits? How?” Pippa slows, trying to watch exchanges between traders and customers while continuing to follow Tali. “Even when I was a kid on the streets, creds were king. That’s what will for sure get you food in your belly and a safe place to sleep.”

Tali’s heart squeezes painfully, the way it always does when Pippa mentions her childhood before BAaT and the Alliance. She’ll have to ask about that someday. “We don’t have to worry about food and shelter - everyone gets food, everyone gets shelter. You know that’s why we don’t have an incarceration system and our highest punishment is exile - we can’t support those who don’t work to provide for the community, because everyone is given those things by virtue of being quarian. But this sort of thing - things that aren’t necessities, things that make your life happier or easier or the like - those we trade for, because what better thing to offer than something else we value?” They’ve reached the quilt-trader, and Tali holds up her hand in greeting. “I’m Tali’Zorah, and this is Pippa Shepard.”

The quilt-trader nods. “I remember you, Tali’Zorah.” She turns to Pippa, holding out a hand with her palm facing forward, fingers slightly bent, so Pippa can interlace her own with them - a first-time greeting. “Welcome, Pippa Shepard. I am Chenah’Ayyal.”

Pippa looks back at Tali, probably confused, but holds her hand up - Tali would never have doubted she’d be a good sport. The quilt-seller interlinks their fingers, and Pippa won’t be able to tell, no matter how good she’s gotten at reading quarian body language, but Tali can almost feel the approval wafting off Ayyal.

“What brings you to the Rayya’s trading plaza, Shepard?” Ayyal asks, pointedly re-fluffing one of the quilts on her display. It’s reminiscent of Rannoch, qorach and canyons and wide-open sky, in shades of blue and purple.

Rather than answering, Pippa shoots a sidelong glance at Tali. The meaning is obvious - she’s going to let Tali do most of the talking, let Tali choose how others will see a human wandering around one of the Fleet’s most precious ships. She can spin this however she wants.

“I’m taking her on a tour,” she says. No spin. “I want to show her where I grew up.”

Ayyal’s stance becomes guarded, but not angry or mistrustful. Honestly more than Tali had expected, and her stomach unclenches just a bit. She draws one finger down the neat and even stitching of the Rannoch blanket. “This is beautiful. Your stitching is every bit as lovely as I remember. I’ve never seen it fray.”

With the disgusted sound Ayyal makes deep in her throat, the air clears even more. “How can you say that?” she asks, dragging the cloth from under Tali’s hand. “See here, the stitches are off center - everyone will notice! How am I supposed to be happy with anyone displaying this in their quarters? I’ll be a laughingstock!”

Tali tries her very best to muffle a laugh, and the hacking cough suddenly afflicting Pippa spells the same. “Just like a craftsperson,” she says, unable to contain a final huff of laughter. “Thank you for talking with us. Until I return.”

“Until I see you again,” Ayyal replies, and holds up her hand again to Pippa, who readily interlaces their fingers again. “And you, Pippa Shepard,” she adds, and Pippa’s answering grin could power the Flotilla for a week. At least.

Grinning too, Tali links her arm back with Pippa’s and steers her back out of the trading plaza and into another corridor. “So that’s the trading plaza, obviously. Most of what’s right around here is also community areas - a school, an infirmary, you saw the garden plaza, and those sorts of things.” She points out the places they pass as they go, places where she spent her childhood and adolescence. “Schools are clean rooms, because children don’t have suits yet. They’re bubbled - like Raan talked about - but when there’s that many children together, it’s better for the space to be clean too. Infirmary too, for obvious reasons, so those are usually right near each other for efficiency.”

“Name of the day on a ship, any ship.” Pippa peers in through windows when they exist, nodding at each quarian they pass. Tali’s heart skips yet another beat as she watches her. The Rayya might be one of the Fleet’s most important ships, but it’s still dingy and patched-together and shabby compared to the least Alliance ship, let alone the Normandy. But Pippa doesn’t look out of place or uncomfortable at all. She looks excited, interested. She looks like she fits in.

There’s only one reason Tali could be worrying about whether Pippa fits in on the Flotilla, and she is not ready to interrogate that quite yet. Instead, she pulls Pippa down a side corridor, so suddenly that Pippa yelps from being knocked off balance. “This way is to hydroponics - the reason these are called liveships.”

Pippa might be an entire handspan shorter than Tali, but she sure can walk fast when she’s excited about something. “Oh, man! I know I’m not going to understand any of it. But it’s so cool! You figured out how to grow enough food to support seventeen million people in space! Three hundred years ago!” She’s pulling Tali now, stopping dead when they reach an intersection. “Which way?”

Their footsteps echo on the metal floors, familiar and comforting, as Tali leads Pippa through the maze of cobbled-together corridors to the hydroponics observation deck. When the doors open, Pippa hurries over to the windows, pressing her faceplate against the glass to peer at the leafy green plants below. “Look at it! That’s all food!”

Laughing again, Tali joins her at the window. “We all take turns volunteering there, not just those of us who live on the liveships. So everyone has a chance to be part of how and where food comes from and is distributed and all of that.” She gestures to a corner on the far end of what they can see. “I always worked in that corner over there. Helped plant, check irrigation systems, whatever needed doing.”

“Wish I’d had something like that.” Pippa’s smile this time doesn’t actually reach her eyes. “Didn’t really think, as a kid, about where food came from before I nicked it.” Her voice is wistful - the opposite of nostalgic, whatever that is. Tali squeezes her hand, and Pippa turns away from the window.

“Show me where you used to live?” she asks. “If you want to.”

“That was my plan. It’s a deck down, so we’ll just go through here…” she lets her words trail off as they head back into the corridor maze, find the stairs, and go down to the deck where she spent most of her life. The designs painted on the walls, the quilts hung to muffle sound, someone in a familiar suit in literally every corner of the ship - it’s almost like she’s stepped back in time.

She stops in front of the door to her family’s apartment, the apartment that was her home until two years ago. The blank door beckons, but she doesn’t knock. “It belongs to someone else now, another family. They moved my father once I transfered to the Neema, gave him a space more conducive to one person alone and gave this to a family that needed more room.” Her voice is as devoid of emotion as she can make it, trying not to let Pippa hear how draining this is to be back in these spaces that hold memories of her father. And her mother.

Pippa’s hand appears on her shoulder, and Tali looks down at it, trying to let it pierce the haze of remembering. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright to be upset.”

It’s alright. Tali snorts. “My father wouldn’t agree. We don’t have time for sentimentality. We didn’t have time to come here at all, honestly. He would’ve been upset with me for letting my feelings overcome my duty.”

“Hey.” The hand on Tali’s shoulder slides down her arm to interlace their fingers together, three and five. “You’re allowed to care. He cared about you. He didn’t know how to show it, but he did. You care about him, still. You care about your people, about our crew. And that’s a good thing. That means you’ll do what you can to protect as many of them as you can.”

“They didn’t want me to come home.” An unfamiliar person emerges from the apartment door, looks between the two of them, and heads off down the hall without a word. Tali moves back up the corridor, Pippa trailing behind, so they won’t be right in front of someone’s door anymore. She tries again. “They didn’t want me to come home. They were using me as a prop, a piece in someone else’s game.” Her voice is rising, and she doesn’t care to stop it. “They stripped my ship name, Shepard!”

“I know. But you don’t have to accept their reasoning for it.” Pippa leans against the wall below a sign in Khelish telling her not to do exactly that.

Tali narrows her eyes. “How do you mean?”

“The ones who voted to strip your ship name wanted you to feel like you didn’t belong. Like you had no home, no one to stand with you. But you do, Tali, you have so many people who stand with you! And multiple homes!” So quickly she looks like she’ll topple over, Pippa stands up straight away from the wall, hands spread for emphasis. “Raan did what she could for you, Reegar and Veetor spoke up for you. They gave you the Normandy in your name in quarian fashion - that’s not a thing any other species does, you know that. You belong in both places. Both, and. Not neither.” Embarrassed, like she wasn’t expecting that speech to pop out of her, she leans back against the wall.

You belong in both places. No one’s ever made it sound like that could be possible. You go on Pilgrimage, you come home and you stay home. Or you don’t, and you never come home again. But Pippa - the same ridiculous human that Tali followed by chance two years ago, who’s come back from the dead at the hands of a terrorist organization Tali couldn’t hate more if she tried - Pippa thinks it doesn’t have to be like that. She can have a human ship name, an entirely non-quarian crew...and still belong to the Fleet. Two homes.

It’ll take some time to get used to that idea.

“You stood for me, too.” She nudges Pippa with her shoulder. “Don’t forget yourself.”

Another blush spreads across Pippa’s pale cheeks. “Well, yeah. I thought that was a given. Or at least, it’s a given to me.”

“It means a lot, though.” Tali takes a deep breath. “I’m glad to be part of your crew.”

The blush deepens. “I am too, Tali. Um, glad you’re part of the crew.” She looks back at the apartment door, closed now. “You ready to go home? Wait, shit, sorry. You ready to go back to the Normandy?”

Five minutes ago, Tali would’ve appreciated the correction. It still grates a little. But…

“Let’s go home.” She can have both. Or at least she can try.

#mass effect #tali'zorah #shepard #shepard x tali #shali #pippa shepard tag #otp: memories you bury or live by #logan writes fic

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professor-maka · 4 years ago

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On Holiday

I’ve managed a NYE fic instead of a Christmas/Holiday fic. Maybe the start of something longer.

Thanks to @sahdah for the eyes. ❤️

Find it on FFN or AO3.

---

It starts on New Year's Eve.

Blake dares her to kiss whoever ends up next to her at midnight, so she resolves to simply end up alone at midnight so that she's not technically breaking the dare. The balcony is small and secluded, which means if someone isn't already out here sucking face, she's the only one whose found it—or is likely to find it at 11:58. She faintly hears a murmur of anticipation below and knows she's almost survived this one with her first kiss squarely intact. Maka has no wish to kiss a complete stranger, or anyone really, thank you very much.

The soft click behind her surprises her, the sound of a shutting door. She whirls around to see a patch of white faintly shining under the moonlight and little else—there is no light on here, purposefully so. Still, the stark hair is enough to give him away. She knows him... or at least, knows of him. Solomon "Call Me Soul" Evans is a boarding school friend of Kid and Blake, just another spoiled rich kid cruising his way through life. Still, as he slowly steps closer, eyes fixed on the waxing moon and seemingly still unaware of her presence, his face looks so broken that it makes her heart crack just a little in sympathy.

She faintly hears the countdown begin downstairs.

10...

Well, a dare is a dare, and while Maka has been known to achieve work arounds in the past that have made her the undisputed Truth or Dare queen, she also never backs out of a dare. Someone is here, so she will try to kiss him. Really, it might not be so bad. There are far worse candidates at this party. Far worse.

Yeah, okay, so he's a trust fund baby, but so's Kid, and she's never minded that. And anyway, even though she's told herself he's just some spoiled little rich boy, she's noticed he tends to stick to quiet corners and keep to himself during parties, and though they've been around each other many times, he's rarely spoken more than two words to her together, so maybe she's just been projecting.

9...

He isn't far, and as she takes one soft step towards him, then another, the faint clack of her low heels on marble have him spinning in her direction, eyes like saucers in the low light.

8...

She's close now, close enough to reach out and grab him, and she will soon, if he'll let her. Her heart begins to race, adrenaline kicking in, her stubborn will taking over. Maka Albarn never says die, so she will do this—and maybe kill Blake later—but still. She will kill him with her honor intact.

7...

His eyes resume a more normal appearance, and the surprise soon morphs into the look of boredom that's the only expression she's ever seen him wear until less than a minute ago.

6...

"Sorry, I'll just—"

He makes to slide away, so Maka stops him with a hand to one surprisingly firm bicep. His eyes widen again.

5...

"I need a favor," she says, no time to choose her words. His surprise begins to slide into boredom again, and she hates that the clear mask he wears is so damned familiar, hates that he tilts his own head forward just enough for eyes that shine as brightly as the blood moon to be obscured by his star kissed hair.

4...

"What?"

One word and a slight tilt of the head is all the acknowledgment he offers.

3...

"I need to kiss you, if I you'll let me..."

Maka trails off and bites her lip nervously, hands fidgeting with her charm bracelet but eyes never straying from his as she watches that mask drop again, eyes as wide as his suddenly gaping jaw. He snaps his jaw shut, swallowing visibly.

2...

"O...kay?" The word stutters from his lips, and he looks—honestly, she can't even tell anymore, her heart racing past any capacity for reason.

The artist in Maka had long since found him beautiful from afar, like some gorgeously exotic animal who could never belong among the mundane throngs of humanity around him. The acknowledgment had been begrudging but genuine, her creative soul stirred in spite of herself. But a few brief meetings under sterile halogen and distant sightings in the low lights of parties could not have prepared for her for the reality of standing before him under the moonlight as she's about to kiss him, about to feel the warm lips he darts his tongue out to lick nervously, slightly chapping in the cold desert night.

1...

Her heart is going to explode, she's sure of it. Maka has never heard her own pulse in her ears so deafeningly. Her world narrows to her heart beat and his lips as she leans forward, closing her eyes. She could end up kissing his chin this way and she knows it, but not even her boundless courage can face this eyes wide open. Somehow, someway, her lips collide with something soft, slightly chilled, and shockingly eager. A hand that decidedly does not belong to her finds her lower back, and she allows her own hands to snake up until they meet thick hair, slightly stiff with too much product.

The chill of her lips warms quickly with the motion, and then she feels something hot darting between and gasps, though whether from surprise or the pleasant tingle pooling in her belly and spreading clear down her her toes, Maka can't say. The fireworks that explode in light and sound above them mirror that feeling, amplifying it, bolstering it, and driving her to give as good as she gets. Her courage rises, making her bold, and she slides her own tongue along his, relishing the peculiar warmth of it, the unexpected pleasure of such an embarrassing level of intimacy with a virtual stranger.

That thought shocks her back to reality, and she breaks off their kiss, taking a quick step back, breathless. He looks just as breathless, but whatever unreadable expression crosses his face passes quickly, replaced with a bitter smile.

"Star put you up to this."

It's not really a question.

"I chose dare," she admits, still dizzy from the cascade of emotions crushing her.

"Figures." It's a quiet grumble, punctuated by a laugh as bitter as that smile. "Sorry," he adds, smile fading into neutrality, eyes growing guarded.

"Oh, no, don't be! You were doing me a favor!" Her voice is too bright, heart still racing. Why does he look like someone just told him Santa Claus isn't real? Even in the swirl of her own fear and embarrassment, she knows something is wrong here, and she's not coming out as the good guy.

Oh gods, she's dragged this poor boy into Blake's shenanigans and broken him somehow. And now that she's realized that he doesn't deserve—well—whatever that look is on his face, her own fear and embarrassment are swept away by anger. She is going to absolutely murder her godbrother; she feels like she should be on To Catch a Predator, even though they're both 21 and he had kissed her back, damnitall.

"Yeah, okay." He suddenly slouches down in his jeans and button up, looking a foot shorter and, in spite of that habitual mask of indifference, somehow defeated.

"Anyway." Her right hand finds her bracelet again, but she manages to keep her eyes steady and on his, anger simmering. "If you'll excuse me, I have a godbrother to kill."

Maka manages to keep her head high as she marches away, throwing open the balcony door with abandon, her embarrassment come anger fueling her.

Not looking back, she misses his thoughtful frown as he touches his fingertips to his lips, and how his eyes never leave her, lingering in the doorway long after she's gone.

#ProMa writes #been awhile fam #mwah!#SoMa fanfic #soul x maka #soul eater #soul eater fanfic #I did a thing

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years ago

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I’ve been thinking all day about this post that I saw and reblogged about Snow’s desire to have another baby and how that hurt Emma. While it is completely understandable for Emma to feel that way as the lost girl that she is, I don’t think Snow is evil or a bad mother to want another baby. I’ve even read fics where people delete the birth of Snowing’s son altogether, seeing them having another child as a betrayal of Emma. I disagree completely. It isn’t them having another child that is problematic, it’s the way it was written in the show. Snow’s words in the echo cave that what she has with Emma isn’t what she wanted is a poor choice of words, but as a mother myself, I get what she was trying to say. Every mother wants to experience all the special moments as their child grows: the squishy baby against their shoulder, the first steps and words, the gap toothed six year old smiles - all of it. It’s what’s so tragic about the curse and what it did to Snowing and Emma. Snow having another baby doesn’t mean she’s “replacing Emma” because, by that logic, every mother who has more than one child is a bad person. Every mother who has a baby after losing a child is a bad person. That’s ridiculous. Any mother will tell you that ten babies can never replace the one you lost (or the ones you have for that matter). And if the Snowings should never have children as some sort of penance for giving Emma away, then by that logic, Captain Swan should never have children either because Emma gave up Henry.

Soooo, the problem isn’t Snowing having another baby. It’s the show’s writers doing Snowing dirty time and again by sweeping Emma’s emotions under the rug and having David and Snow cater more to Regina than their own daughter. We’ve heard the shows creators and writers use the excuse that they didn’t have time. Well, it wouldn’t have taken much. Dozens of little moments could have done the trick, they just didn’t take advantage of the opportunities they had to include them. So here are some quick scenes I wrote that either tweak canon or add to it and fix what the writers botched. These are written like scripts because I just needed to get them out of me. If anyone is inspired to use these as prompts for fics, feel free!

In Neverland:

Snow: If you can’t leave this place, then I’m staying with you. I’m not losing you again.

Charming: No, you can’t do that, Emma needs you.

(tears fill Snow’s eyes)

Snow: You’re right.

Charming pulls her close

Charming: I have hope that you and Emma will find a way to bring me home. We always find each other, remember?

Later, Emma is alarmed that they are leaving her dad behind. Snow takes her face in her hands.

Snow: We’ll find a way to bring him home - together.

Emma and Snow have a conversation in 3B ( did they ever get this chance in canon? I don’t think they did.)

Snow: (rubbing her belly) I get the sense that this is bothering you.

Emma: Why would it bother me?

Snow: (touching Emma’s arm) You can tell me.

Emma: I know it sounds silly, but I feel like . . . like I’m being replaced. (her voice hitches)

Snow: Oh sweetheart, we always knew we wanted you to have siblings. You could never be replaced.

Emma: But in the echo caves, you said I wasn’t what you wanted.

Snow: (eyes widening) Oh baby, no! That’s not what I meant at all. I meant that being separated from you wasn’t what I wanted - as a mother. We deserved so much more than we had - you deserved so much more. I wanted a chance to hold a baby, see his first steps, hear his first words. I’m sure you understand.

Emma: (chokes on a sob) I do, actually. I wanted all that with Henry, but I knew he needed more than I could give. And the worst part is, these false memories of raising him? Now they’re torturing me.

Snow: (pulls Emma close and holds her) I put you through that wardrobe because I had no idea what the curse would do.

Emma: (chokes out laugh) I would still be a baby now, for one.

Snow: (pulls back and cups Emma’s face) And who knows if Regina even would have let us be together. Your father was in a coma in the hospital. I shudder to think where my precious baby Emma would have been. (She presses her forehead to Emma’s.) Nothing could ever replace you, not now, not ever. Do you hear me?

(Emma nods and smiles through her tears.)

While Charming and Emma are putting together the crib, Snow gets quiet and wistful, then tears fill her eyes.

Snow: You were supposed to be so much younger when it was time to get ready for a new brother or sister.

Emma: (pauses in what she is doing to give her mother a watery smile) I know.

At the naming ceremony:

Snow: David and I thought about all of the many people who have loved us and supported us over the years. There are two special people who have not only been our friends, but also sheltered me when I needed a home. (chuckles) And didn’t hold it against me that I was hiding in their barn stealing their eggs. So we would like to introduce: Prince Lucas!

(Ruby and Granny gasp tearfully, then rush over. Ruby hugs Snow tightly and Granny gently takes the baby.)

Granny: Well, now that he has a name, I can finally finish that baby blanket.

(The crowd in the diner laughs.)

(Now Emma doesn’t have to be reminded of her painful past/awful ex every time she says her brother’s name.)

Emma realizes she’s made her baby brother’s bottle start boiling - ignore my alliteration :) - all the other mothers in the mommy & me class gasp or recoil, but Snow reaches out gently to her daughter.

Snow: It’s okay, Emma.

Emma is freaked out that she could have hurt her brother and runs from the room while Snow shouts after her, frantically getting LUCAS (not Neal) into his stroller so she can go after her. This sufficiently establishes the fear Emma has that she will hurt her family or push them away - Snow recoiling wasn’t necessary just as it wasn’t necessary for Hook or Henry to recoil from Emma to convey the plot point.

Instead of teaching Regina to dance:

Snow: (in her chambers, sees her husband rushing to leave) Where are you going?

Charming: I just realized I never got a chance to teach my daughter to dance, (harkening back to the dream he had in 3b - HELLO writers!) and this is her first ball.

Snow grins at the excitement on his face and in his voice and rushes out with him, baby LUCAS in her arms. But when they get to Emma’s chamber, the door is ajar, and they see someone has beat them to it:

Hook: It’s a waltz Emma, remember? You’ve done this before, and splendidly I might add.

Emma: You did it splendidly, you mean. Remember, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing?

(Hook laughs, and in the doorway, Charming deflates, smiling sadly and wistfully.)

Charming: (whispering to his wife) I forgot, this isn’t her first ball after all, and she already has a teacher.

(Snow touches him in a comforting way. Across the room, Hook looks up and sees them. He catches Charming’s eyes, and a look of understanding crosses his face.)

Emma: Besides, there will be other dances besides, waltzes, right? How will I learn those in only a few hours?

Hook: Well, love, I believe reinforcements have arrived. Someone else would like a dance.

(Emma looks up as her father approaches, a smile beaming across her face. Charming is visibly choked up as he takes Emma in his arms to dance. Hook and Snow exchange emotional smiles.)

Snow: And after the dancing lessons your mother is going to help you get dressed and do your hair.

Emma: (pretending to be embarrassed) This isn’t the prom.

Snow: No, but it is our first ball together. (She’s choked up - they all are.)

In addition to these, I believe the writers should never have done the “darkness was taken out of fetus Emma” storyline. I could write an entire post on this, but all I will say here is that it harmed Snowing’s established characters and did further damage to their relationship with Emma. For no reason at all, really. (And does Emma really seem like a pure snowflake with no darkness in her? Does that even fit her character? Please.)

They also never should have added the plot point in season 6 that Snowing could have gone to little girl Emma and chose not to. Why in the world would them going to her prevent the curse from breaking? That makes no sense! They could have raised her from that point, preparing her for her 28th birthday, when they could have all returned to Storybrooke TOGETHER to wake everyone else up from the curse. The only reason that couldn’t happen was - plot. You change the entire show. So why even include this plot thread? It did nothing but make Snowing look like bad parents. I’m a mama, and let me tell you, nothing would be keeping me from my kid, curses be damned. I would have gone through that portal in a heartbeat, telling Rumple, “we’ll figure it out, see ya!” So - yeah - never should have included this. And Emma’s reaction to this revelation? Completely out of character! Ugh!

Um, so there ya go - “How the show could have been better” by Melanie.

And reading back over this, it’s kind of a mess, but I just had THOUGHTS that needed to come out.

#once crit #fix it ideas I guess?#kind of me rambling about this show that I love but also drives me crazy

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spiltscribbles · 5 years ago

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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.

Buy Me A Coffee?🥺

#RWRB #RED WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #Alex Claremont Diaz #FIRSTPRINCE #TEDDDYLUPIN #I love you baby #SPILT INK

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fanficparker · 5 years ago

Text

Faking, Falling > Part 11

Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Fake dating! Unrequited love switcheroo!)

Word count: ~2.55 k words

Warning: Swearing... And Fluff?!

Summary: No date, but?

<< PART 10 [ MASTERLIST ] PART 12 >>

10:25 pm...

Lying on the sofa, holding your kindle, you were scrolling through a list of books that you desired to read later than actually reading anything.

10:50 pm...

You failed to concentrate on the words of the book you finally chose to read, your mind dozing off with each word.

11:26 pm...

"Ooga chaka ooga ooga..."

The kindle was kept aside while you sang along with the lyrics of the playlist blasting through your phone as your toes tapped along the edge of the sofa.

11:45 pm...

You were lost in thoughts, the music serving only background ambience.

Did he eat something? Or was he waiting for having dinner together? He must have eaten something. He must be hungry. What if he brings a take away home for us to eat? What if he was expecting you to make something for us to eat? He would have told that on the phone if he was looking forward to such a thing.

Maybe you should tell him to eat in case he didn't eat. Picking up the phone and pausing the music, you discovered that you already had some unread messages from him.

Harrison [10:22 pm]: >> Hey don't wait for me for dinner. >> I don't think I can be there before midnight. >> I will pick something for myself to eat.

Harrison [10:28 pm]: >> Also I will try bringing that rainbow cake. >> Although not sure. >> But still :)

You would have replied him to not take efforts to bring that stupid cake but all you were doing was gently biting your finger that had made the way between your lips in an attempt to stop smiling.

11:56 pm...

You finally texted him to not to worry about the cake but didn't receive any reply. So, you instead started looking about the storm on the internet.

'The routes were set back to original by eleven o'clock.' It said.

12:15 pm...

After living alone for years in London all by yourself, unexpectedly this empty house was beginning to haunt you. You wrapped a soft thin blanket around your figure sitting on the sofa, feet tucked under yourself while your eyes roamed all over the place. Sitting there waiting for Harrison, you tried your best to prevent your mind from wandering around bizarre thoughts.

Ghost don't exist. You reminded yourself. The horror movie you saw and laughed about all through your flight duration was finally coming back to you. You closed your eyes for a millisecond and the terrifying face of the lady ghost was clearly visible. You jerked on your seat and opened your eyes, breathing a sigh of relief seeing no-one or that lady ghost in general. But then you heard footsteps. You clenched the blanket tighter around yourself and again closed your eyes shut, keeping your right hand near your heart. The footsteps were coming closer making you sink further into the sofa. Your heart rate was already shooting up.

Ding Dong.

You literally screamed. Your scream facilitated the actions of the person on the other side of the door. The harsh knocking on your door made you re-open your eyes.

"Y/n are you okay? Y/n answer? Y/n?!"

That was Harrison's voice. And instantly the feeling of calmness rushed through your veins. You threw your head back, sighing at your own stupidity. The door knocked again accompanied with Harrison's panicked voice. You threw the blanket to the floor, slapped your head and ran to open the door. There stood Harrison, his hair a mess from the wind that was still blowing outside. You could smell that it was going to rain very soon.

"What happened? You screamed?" Harrison asked, his head peeping inside.

"Everything's fine." You puffed out air accompanied by a chuckle.

"Is it?"

"Absolutely." You said greeting him home and shutting the door. Instead of walking towards the living space, he walked to the kitchen. He kept the brown cake box inside the fridge.

"You don't have to bring it." You said softly.

"No worries." He replied smiling and took out a water bottle. You turned on your feet making your way to the sofa. You folded up the blanket while he sat on the opposite end. Even without looking at him you could imagine his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Water?" He said pushing the now half-filled bottle towards you. You blinked accepting it, attempting to push back the thoughts to your grave. You sat across him, taking a sip. He kept his handbag he had kept clothes to wear on the date on the floor and sighed loudly. You closed your eyes tightly. You hated how his breath sounded-- sad and a little bit of guilt rose in your heart. You could have done something. You could have set up the table, made a little snack, literally anything but you didn't. You heard him tapping his shoes on the floor, still taking deep breathes.

"You're asleep?" You asked looking at him. His eyes were closed and his head was supported by the back cushions.

"Wasn't sleeping, just... ah... resting my eyes," he muttered, eyes still closed, "Long day..." He yawned, sinking more into the sofa.

"You want me to make anything? Tea? Coffee?" You offered. He slowly opened his eyes and straightened his posture.

"Coffee. Please." He almost pleaded. You rushed to the kitchen while you heard him move inside the bathroom. While the decoction was getting ready, you heard the sound of the shower running. Maybe it wasn't too late... You glanced at the wall clock — 01:24 am

You rushed into the bedroom, plugged in your laptop and tossed a cosy blanket on the bed, propping the laptop over it. Securing the bedpost with pillows and setting up the air conditioning to a pleasurable temperature you rushed back to the kitchen. The shower was no more audible. You finished making the mochaccino(you decided to add a little chocolatey twist). You plated the rainbow cake pieces on two plates and placed your little sweet dine in a tray. Decorating the mocha mugs with some whipped cream, you made your way to the bedroom. Upon entering the first thing you saw was Harrison rubbing some moisturiser cream on his washed face. His blonde wet hairs almost looking brown in the dim lights of the room were pointy at the ends. He was in his pyjamas. A little smile spread across your lips at the sight. You placed the tray over the nightstand. The soft thud made Harrison turn and look at you, running a hand through his wet hairs.

"You were watching a movie?" He asked wiping his hand on the towel, looking over at the bed.

"No. We will watch a movie." You smiled broader.

"Which movie?" He asked throwing the towel over the chair. Bad habit. For god-sake put it on the air dryer or in the laundry. You wanted to scold him. But he made his way into the covers inhaling the scent of the freshly washed covers and sighing in comfort. You decided against the scolding thing.

"You decide what we watch. My prime account is unlocked." You said lifting the towel yourself while he excitedly scrolled through your laptop. You returned back to the room after putting the towel in the dryer. He was slurping the coffee.

"This tastes heavenly, Y/n!" He said picking up the mug in the air. You suspected it to be him asking for you to cling your mug into his. You lifted the cup and clung it softly.

"Cheers!" He cheered like a little child. You giggled at his ministrations, getting inside the covers, bumping your shoulders and knees across his. You placed the cake pieces on your thigh.

"What are we gonna watch?" You asked taking in a bit, devouring the taste. You moaned at the taste.

"It's good?" He asked but instead of your answer, he took a bite of the piece himself. "It is. Mmh..."

"Mmh..."

You both burst into laughter. Little cake pieces ashamedly flew out of your mouth into the air.

"That sounded---"

"Sexual?" He said interrupting you. You playfully slapped his arm.

"Kiddish." You said sounding unimpressed. He took another sip from the cup.

"I guess... Inception? Should we watch it?"

You coughed at the suggestion, "I am seriously not putting that much pressure on my brain at midnight."

He again started scrolling through the laptop. "WALL-E?"

"I have watched it too many times. Haven't you?"

"Well... I have too." He clicked his tongue keeping his finished mug and plate on the side table and rolling over his belly. "Why don't you choose?" Finishing off your eatables you laid by his side trying to find a suitable movie along with him but ended up closing off the account unable to decide. His eyes suddenly lit up seeing your desktop.

"Gosh. You got Need For Speed. We should play this!" He said looking at the game folder.

"It's almost three?!"

"Please Please. Been a long time. And it's better to play with a competitor." He looked at you with pleading eyes but his body radiated childish excitement.

"Not in the mood." You yawned.

"I will let you win."

"Oh ho ho. You will lose anyway." You said getting offended.

"Prove it then... coward." He said turning his head to the other side but the smirk on his lips was clearly visible.

"What did you call me?" You asked in a low tone, raising a single eyebrow. He slowly turned his head back to look at you. He shrugged his shoulders.

"You know yourself." He bit his lower lip trying to suppress the giggles that were emerging from the pit of his stomach.

"We'll play it on my play station. And we'll be celebrating my big victory." You stood up and shuffled the items in the cupboard producing the gaming console.

***

"So how is it going so far, Ms. Y/n Y/ln?" Harrison sneered looking at your side profile from the game screen for a second. A soft giggle escaped his lips as he saw you focusing on the game as if your life depended on it.

"Don't disturb me, Osterfield. Your ass is soon gonna be kicked," You replied pushing the joystick to the left while your body tilted to the right.

"And... Boom!" He yelled throwing the gaming controller on the cushion as his car crossed the finishing line. You rolled your eyes at his actions keeping your own controller aside.

"What's the score? What's the score?... Harrison five. Y/n? Huh?" He nudged your elbow making your eyes roll.

"Two," You maintained an unimpressed expression, instantly accompanied by a yawn.

"Nah. Sleepiness won't be an excuse for your poor performance." He said looking at you, remembering how you used the same excuse an hour before.

"It's almost six in the morning div. I genuinely want to sleep. The rain started and even stopped!" You actually sounded sleepy and you rubbed your tired eyes.

"Right," He mumbled pressing his lips into a thin line. He was having so much fun. For the first time in years he wasn't feeling out of place or lonely, he definitely never wanted these moments to end. But on the other side, he should be glad that these wonderful moments do end. They should end because that's the only way he hoped he won't get too attached to your presence.

But wasn't he already? The two sides of his brain were at war. Just three days with you and he was falling down the sky. He thought he had already fallen but somehow landed on a thin wire which he was gripping with his life but now that wire was broken and he was falling again. Falling down from that height must be hurtful. But he wanted to touch the ground, feel the grass underneath his feet, but there were more chances of him falling into the quicksand. And surprisingly falling into the quicksand doesn't hurt, unlike the green floor. But later quicksand would engulf him, choke him and take away his life. Yes, his brain was at war and he knew— wars bring destruction.

He followed you into the bedroom where you got into the covers and he took the responsibility to clear the debris of the snacks and then carefully placed the laptop on the table. He removed his t-shit and you snorted at the sight.

"You like to show off your abs, isn't it?" Your comment was definitely snarky. He wetted his lips and looked at you, your eyes were already closed.

"They are already gone." He said getting inside the covers with you.

"What's gone?" You mumbled shifting lightly in the bed.

"My abs. Ate for two months. No gym either. My next TV show shoot starts in May, I'll have to work extremely hard in the gym to get them back." He said closing his eyes too.

"Your family must be proud of you." Your voice was almost a whisper but he heard it and also heard the fact that it sounded sad.

"What do' you mean?" His eyes fluttered open and eyebrows concentrated in the middle. His eyes met yours and he noticed the tears welling. You instantly turned and faced the other side.

"It's just... I am a loser." Your voice sounded cracked within turn made his heart crack.

"Hey, hey. What are you talking about?" He asked even when he knew and shifted closer to you.

"I sometimes think I should... stop with the designing thing. It's not working."

"No. I have already told you that your designs are amazing and---"

"I just edited the designs of the previous designer. It was just a dummy work." You sighed.

"I have seen your notebook, I have seen your creativity." He said pausing for a moment, "First look at me."

"No." Your voice was extremely scratchy. He shook you by your arm lightly but you didn't budge.

"Please Y/n. Look at me," He pleaded. And you did turn to look at his blue eyes with your teary ones, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

"Hey. Don't cry," His voice was so soft, just like his fingers that wiped off the tears from your face. He then cupped your face in his hands. "It took me at least one thousand auditions to get my first role, and that role wasn't even a speaking one. It takes talent and patience. Be patient, love." He said softly.

"You're so good with this." You said, your tears finally paused.

"Good with what?"

"Talk." You produced a little smile. He giggled at the compliment.

"By the way, I am really sorry." You said. He furrowed his brows at your words. "I was just sleepy and then was crying. I must have annoyed you."

"No. Not at all." He said removing his hands from your face but then he felt your fingers running across his exposed arm, a shiver ran down his spine. You shifted closer to his chest and pressed your face to his body. His hands involuntarily held your back and kept you closer as you cuddled into him. The scent of soap radiating from his body made you feel even calmer. He slowly closed his eyes.

"Thank you for the date, Harrison. I had a great time... with you." You mumbled into his chest while he combed your hairs with his fingers.

Me too... He replied in his mind, knowing he won't get nightmares this time.

@asmilinghopelessromantic // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @xximaweirdoxx // @jjasalem // @cordiebirdy // @wizliar // @justasmisunderstoodasloki // @veronicas-littleworld // @acceptance07 // @ghostspf // @screeching-student-unknown // @fanficscuziranout // @miraclesoflove // @trustfundparker // @emcsii04 // @yourmum792 // @skymoonandstardust // @nxdxh* // @httplayer @lizzyosterfield // @tomhaz // @gioandreolli // @girl1sstuff

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield fanfic #haz osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #faking falling

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loopy777 · 4 years ago

Note

Got any personal headcanon of what Mai’s friendship will be like around the gaang+suki?

Well, if I didn’t, this Ask would be a perfect excuse to create some!

Aang: The comics show us that they get along. Aang is happy to see her when he arrives in ‘Smoke & Shadow,’ although that seems mostly to be about him shipping Maiko. Mai herself greets him with a smile (!), and while she’s no doubt pleased to have extra help in dealing with her brother’s kidnapping, she definitely sees his help and presence as a good thing. I think Mai appreciates Aang in the same way she appreciates Ty Lee and Katara, as nice people who are free to be emotionally vulnerable and who she will protect at all cost. She doesn’t necessarily spend a lot of time with him, but I think she tries to be nice to him when they’re together, in her own restrained way. And I think Aang completely gets the import of even her little gestures; when she half-smiles at his latest trick, he treats it as if he got a belly laugh and standing ovation from her. I also think that he sees her as even more respectful of life than Sokka or Katara and appreciates that. Sure, he remembers the times she threw knives at his face, but he also knows there were plenty of times when she could have killed or hurt him and the rest of the gAang, and instead she chose to restrain them. Although it’s possible he needed this pointed out by Zuko or Toph; I do think he found her intimidating at first, but he tried to get along with her for Zuko’s sake, and found it surprisingly easy. Aang definitely ships Maiko, as he loves their Childhood Friends thing and thinks that Zuko really needs someone with her perspective and practicality to keep him grounded. Mai in turn feels that Aang and Katara egg each other on in ways that works for them.

Katara: I recently wrote a full post about this, but I didn’t say much about Katara’s view of Mai. I think Katara finds Mai to be an affront on all readily-visible levels; she thinks Mai dresses weird, hates Mai’s knives, wishes Mai would actually smile or scowl or show emotion some time, and finds Mai to be stuck up and snooty in the way all people who demand regular access to bathrooms are. At least, that’s how it was at first. Katara just doesn’t get people who don’t display their emotions like she does. But then Katara wound up talking to Ty Lee about Mai. Ty Lee didn’t reveal Mai’s deepest secrets or anything, but the way she was so fond of her really surprised Katara- and the even bigger surprise was Ty Lee’s insistence that Mai had professed admiration for Katara several times. That led to Katara trying to take a closer look, and finding enough in Mai to respect. It did help that Mai apparently was not an enthusiastic follower of Azula; Katara heard about the “Just take the bear” incident, and of course was there for the “Victory is boring” lament. So they get along as much as Katara gets along with anyone who doesn’t meet all her standards- in fact, she gets along with Mai better than she does with Toph. (Mai doesn’t fight with Katara, even when she’s annoyed with her. It would be a waste of time and not fun.) Katara does enjoy the little excursions she gets invited on with Mai and Ty Lee to go get into trouble, even though they always include at least one argument with Mai. But that’s what friendship is all about.

Sokka: They bonded over Boomerang. Mai wanted to learn how to throw it, and Sokka wanted to teach an appreciative audience. She, in turn, showed him some tricks for throwing knives and hiding blades under clothes. That led to a mutual respect- she trusts that he’s practical and kind of knows what he’s doing most of the time, and he trusts that she is practical and doesn’t have time for anyone’s garbage. Practical people unite (to save their impractical friends, usually)! Sokka does have a hard time reading her, though, and can never quite tell when she’s messing with him. Mai actually goes out of her way to mess with him because he’s not an emotionally-fragile little wimp who can’t handle some jabs, and she doesn’t have a lot of people like that in her life. Sokka was sorry to hear that Zuko broke up with her, but shrugged and figured he’d never see again and that’s just how life goes. He was a bit surprised when he went to visit Suki and found Mai there, and was even more surprised to hear that Suki considers Mai a special friend. (Again, Ty Lee was preaching the Mai gospel, this time for all the Kyoshi Warriors.) Mai just raised her eyebrows and said, “What, thought you had finally gotten rid of me? I’m genuinely hurt.” And once again Sokka had no idea if she was being serious or not, but that was okay, because later she showed him how to cheat at cards.

Toph: Just about the only problem between these two is that Mai doesn’t like how ‘fragrant’ Toph is. Otherwise, they get along to a disturbing degree. Toph can sense what’s really going on under the surface of Mai’s outward blankness, and Mai enjoys how much of a blunt little troll Toph is. Mai has even become Toph’s favorite person to talk about her parents with; Mai doesn’t verbally respond much, but it’s nevertheless a full conversation. They get each other on a level no one else quite understands, except Ty Lee. For a while, Mai wanted Toph as “the third” when she and Ty Lee go looking for trouble together, because of that deep understanding, but eventually Mai realized that while Toph is a great fighter and great friend, she’s doesn’t bring anything to the group that isn’t already there. Katara, on the other hand, is different enough to fill some gaps and also adds that bit tension to the personal dynamics that makes things a bit more energetic and exciting. Toph is content with that, because she does think Mai is even more of a Madame Fussy-Bridges than Katara, and anyway all that metal weighing Mai down is a bit odd. Toph isn’t used to the way Mai can become so much lighter so quickly during a big fight. The first time, she thought Mai lost a lot of blood or something. The most defining aspect of their friendship, though, is their ongoing Insult Game. They call each other mean names, but never the same one twice. At first, this led to a solid hour of them insulting each other gleefully while the rest of the gAang tried to cover Aang’s ears. Now, it’s highly strategic and creative, with perhaps a single exchange per visit- and still not fit for Aang’s ears.

Suki: Suki has been training with the Kyoshi Warriors since age 8, and has risen to lead a prominent squad of them that went out into the world to fight the war and wound up in jail. Suki is an old hand at dealing with quirky female energy, and there’s nothing Mai can be or do that will throw her. It helps that Ty Lee is happy to talk about her best friend at any time, so Suki got a full briefing before she had to really spend a lot of time with Mai. She very much appreciates how Mai is the quietest of the new extended gAang, compared to how everyone else feels the need to yell about something at least once a day and usually more like once during every conversation. And yes, Suki very much did get tips on throwing and hiding blades; Sokka ain’t got a monopoly on that kind of exchange. Mai in turn likes Suki for being a practical, level-headed normal person, although she thinks Suki can do a lot better than Sokka. Mai is curious about war fans, but upon being told that their weight is the only thing making them worth throwing, she decided that this style of fans isn’t quite for her. (Oh, but she’s tinkering in her spare time. She’s going to invent the world’s first boomerang-fan. You just watch.) What really endeared Suki to Mai, though, is how she takes care of Ty Lee. Mai is hugely relieved that Ty Lee’s new boss is actually someone really cool and kind and sensible, and she likes that she has a standing invitation to join the Kyoshi Warriors even though she never would because of that awful makeup. Mai respects Suki enough that she never made fun of that makeup out loud a second time, not after how Suki reacted the first time. It was one of the few instances where Mai gave a sincere apology, and Ty Lee made sure that Suki knows what a big deal that is.

And here’s the companion piece of Ty Lee.

#Anonymous

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welcometophu · 4 years ago

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Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 24

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 24

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Pels is still on the phone when the door opens, and Jess and Shane come in. She says a quick goodbye and locks her phone before she stands up to drop it on Jess’s desk. Dad makes a face, and Pels sighs. “There are no texts for you to read anyway,” she points out.

“Hey, Dad,” Jess says. “I can’t see you, but I’m figuring you’re who Pels is talking to.” She slides Pels’s phone to the back of the desk and starts pulling containers from the plastic bag she carries. Shane leaves another bag on the floor near her before digging into the closet and emerging with three plates and three bowls.

Pels sits slowly on the edge of the bed again, reaching out when Jess hands her something. The extremely large paper cup is piping hot, despite the cardboard collar around it, and she inhales the rich, dark, caffeinated scent.

“I just assumed you’re one of those people who can drink caffeine at all hours,” Jess says with a small grin.

She starts unloading the second bag, and Pels is amazed at the amount of food on the desk. “I can,” she says, taking a too-hot sip because it just smells too good to resist. It burns, but it tastes wonderful. “Did you buy an entire restaurant?”

“We were indecisive, and we went to the Asian fusion place that just opened a block past Teas Please,” Shane says. He leaves the plates and bowls on the bed and returns to the closet to find a handful of large spoons. “Plum Pagoda. They have a little of everything, and we might have gone overboard. On the other hand, you’re healing, and you seem to be hungry every time we ask, so we figured storing the leftovers for midnight snacks wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“So, what kind of a mood are you in?” Jess asks. Dad’s leaning over the table, reaching out to nudge the lid for one low, flat container. “Pad Thai? Szechuan chicken? Sushi? Dumplings?”

Dad wiggles his fingers, like someone is actually going to see him and pass him a plate.

Fine.

Pels puts a bowl on top of a plate and hands them both to Dad. “Apparently someone either thinks he knows what I want, or he wants to live vicariously through my taste buds. Please don’t destroy those taste buds, Dad.”

“It’s nice not having to worry about who sees me,” he says mildly, ladling rice into the bowl. “Or rather, who doesn’t see me, but sees what I’m doing.”

Jess quickly opens all the paper and plastic containers, while Shane puts a spoon in each. They stand back while Dad adds the spicy chicken over the rice, along with something that smells vaguely sour and sweet and that Pels thinks might be Thai. He avoids the Pad Thai for now, but places several different kinds of dumplings and a spring roll on the plate, along with a selection of maki. Shane holds out both a fork and disposable chopsticks, and Pels grabs the fork.

“Okay, you’re right, I’m starving, and this is probably going to be round one of, well, more than one,” she mumbles as she takes the plate and bowl from Dad. She grabs one of the salmon rolls and shoves it into her mouth, sighing happily. “Yep. Hungry. Thank you for feeding me.”

Jess ends up on the floor, her shoulder bumped up against Shane’s legs where he sits on the edge of the bed. Pels is cross-legged, not touching either of them, but it still makes her feel vaguely warm inside seeing how comfortable they are with each other.

Okay then. That’s a thing.

“This is good,” Shane says with his mouth full, jabbing his chopsticks at the pile of noodles on his plate. “They have a buffet on weekdays. Which I think is supposed to be for the businesses, but it’s really cheap and it’d be great for students, too. Can’t you just see any of the sports teams there?”

Pels snorts, and has to grab her coffee because burning her mouth is the right idea after snorting spicy chicken.

She starts coughing, because really, it’s not.

Dad pats her back, hard, and she pushes him away. “I’m fine, not choking,” she assures everyone. “Just. My sinuses are burning. Is there water?”

Shane grabs a pitcher from Jess’s very large dorm fridge and pours a glass. Pels wishes it helped more than it does, but at least she no longer feels like she’s choking. Maybe she just needs to slow down a little.

“I am definitely going back,” Jess says around a mouthful of spring roll. “Will Nate be jealous? Are we going to single-handedly destroy the Teas Please economy if we switch allegiance to this new place?”

“We can split our time, I’m sure.” Shane pokes at noodles with his chopsticks. “Not to abruptly change the subject or anything, but—”

“That would be abruptly changing the subject,” Jess points out. She slides away from him, turning so she can see them both. When Pels moves to slide off the bed, onto the floor, Jess scoots backwards. They form a loose triangle with no one quite touching, while Dad stands near the desk, still looking at the food.

“I’ve just been thinking about the marks,” Shane says. “And what they mean for all of us. I’ve been figuring that everything started because Pels is our,” he gestures between himself and Jess, “soulmate. That this is a V relationship.”

“I’ve touched you both,” Pels says slowly. “The marks aren’t… done. Or whatever they’re supposed to do.”

“Which means this equation isn’t stable,” Jess says firmly. “I’m attached to you. Shane’s attached to you.”

“But you aren’t attached to each other.”

They look at each other when Pels points out the obvious.

“It’s not like we haven’t tried—”

“Shane told you about the kisses,” Jess interrupts him. “I’m just—gay.”

Pels isn’t sure she should put her opinions out there, all things considered. “If you’d asked me when I got to PHU if I was into guys or girls, I honestly would’ve answered that I didn’t know,” she says quietly. “Can sexuality evolve? And is this about sex, or is it about something else?”

When they both just look at her, it feels like they’re waiting for her to expand on her thoughts. She feels heat in her face, and she pulls her knees up, arms around her legs. “So. When I just look at Jess it’s like she’s a volcano,” she whispers. “You’re not a mountain. You’re on fire. You’re stable, yes, but you’re also waiting to rumble to life, and when you kiss me, I feel the lava under my skin. And Shane… You’re like bees and honey. There’s this sweetness in my belly, but also a buzzing like my entire body’s come to life. I can feel you both and you’re amazing, but different. And it wasn’t like this before. I didn’t feel like that the first time I saw you. It’s only now, after I’ve gotten to know you, and mostly after we’ve become well, a we. An us.”

Jess glances sideways at Shane. “So you think that even though we’ve been together since forever, maybe our relationship’s changed now because we have you?”

“Maybe?” Pels isn’t sure if that’s what she was saying, or if it’s something else entirely. Magical metaphysics is never going to be her strong suit. “I don’t really know anything about Ritual, or how it could change things.”

“It can’t make us do anything we don’t want,” Shane says firmly.

“But what if we do want, but don’t really think about it?” Pels says quickly, before he can lean too far back. She gestures between them. “What if you—can anything change? Just because it’s all of us here?”

“Fine,” Jess says, setting her plate aside. She crooks one finger at Shane. “Come on. Kiss me.” When he approaches, crawling rather than getting up off the floor, she adds, “Like you mean it. Not like we’re testing it out, but kiss me like you’d kiss me if I was, well—” Her gaze flicks sideways. “Kiss me like I’m her.”

He stops right in front of her, sitting back on his heels as his eyes go wide. “Are you sure? I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with—”

“Just kiss me already,” Jess says. She surges forward, framing Shane’s face in her hands, leaning in to press her lips to his. Pels leans forward as Shane’s breath hitches, his hands coming up to cradle Jess’s head, mouth moving over hers. Jess nips at Shane’s lip, and warmth spreads through Pels as she watches. She curls her fingers together over her heart, trying to keep it from escaping.

Jess sits back with a rough exhale, her pale skin flushed beneath her freckles. “That was not bad,” she admits.

“It was different,” Shane says. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Jess—you’re you. You’re already a part of my life, and even if Pels were my only soulmate, you’d be part of that. Right?”

Jess’s brow furrows, and when she pulls her knees up, it’s almost as if she’s mirroring the way Pels sits. “True,” she says. “You and I are always going to be you and I, no matter what. That hasn’t changed.”

Pels can’t stand the suspense. “But did anything else change?” She holds up her wrist, because she didn’t feel a thing and her mark is exactly the same as it was before they kissed.

Shane’s gaze drops to his own wrist and he shakes his head. “I held Jess’s hand when we were walking to get food,” he says, voice low. “I don’t think kissing is actually that big a difference.”

“So that’s not what the equation needs in order to balance,” Jess mutters to herself. She rubs her thumb against the mark on her skin as if she can somehow push it into being more visible than the scattered ink that it is. “We’re still not stable.”

Pels wants to ask if Jess is attracted to Shane, but she feels like that must be a complicated thing. She’s not sure she understands it herself, and they’ve already kissed, so… she’s not sure what to do next. She hunches over, pulling her knees closer to her chest.

“Hey.” Shane tilts towards her, one hand on her shoulder; the bees spread under her skin and through her chest. “You okay?”

She nods quickly. “I’m not good at this.”

She feels a touch to the top of her head, fingers in her curls oh so briefly as Dad murmurs, “You’re doing better than you think, Pels. You’re right where you need to be.” A moment’s pause, his voice even lower as he says, “You’ve got this.”

When she looks up to find him, he’s gone.

She blinks. “…we’re alone.”

“What?” Shane looks at her, confused.

“Dad has actually left the three of us alone,” Pels clarifies. “He’s not in the room. He’s not watching over me. I’m alone. With the two of you.”

“C’mere.” Shane motions to her, and she meets him halfway, kissing him lightly before she sits back.

When Jess gestures, Pels goes to her instead. This time the kiss is stronger. Firmer. Like Jess is more sure of herself and wants to slip inside of her skin with her. Pels pulls back, an exhalation on her lips and her heart hammering.

Jess smirks.

“We should—” Pels gestures at the food, then gestures between them. “Or we could—?”

“Let’s finish eating.” Jess picks up the spring roll she set down, grinning around another bite. “We have plenty of time, right? There’s no point in rushing anything.”

“I don’t want to push either of you into anything you’re not ready for,” Shane says firmly.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you two kiss again.” When they both look at her, Pels can feel the heat staining her skin. “I just like—I like both of you. And together, I just… I like that, too.”

“I can’t deny I like watching the two of you make out. It’s hot,” Shane admits.

“Because we’re girls?” Jess throws the remains of her spring roll at him.

Shane catches it and pops it in his mouth. “Nope. Because I like you, and you both look happy. Jess looks like she’s found a treasure, and Pels looks about ready to combust. So. I like watching the two of you make out.”

“When we’re done eating, that could be a thing,” Pels says shyly. She focuses on not burning her sinuses again with her spicy food, while also trying to eat it as quickly as she can. “Just practicing the kissing parts. Getting used to it. Since I’m getting the idea that as long as everybody’s got a chance to be kissed, we all kind of enjoy seeing it happen, too.”

It’s a physical thing, sure. She can feel it shivering through her body in ways she doesn’t completely understand. But as Shane leans over for a quick kiss to Jess’s forehead, it makes Pels’s heart bloom, hot and fast and hungry to see more of it.

She eats quickly, more awake and energized than she’s felt in a while. She watches Shane and Jess as she eats, taking in the casual affection. The moments when Jess reaches for Shane—simple things like stealing a bite from his plate, or offering a bite from her own—those affect Pels as much as the physicality of kissing.

She wants to see them like this. Together.

Maybe it’s not sexuality that affects her; maybe it’s emotions.

She sets her plate aside, closes her eyes. That might take some time to process.

“Hey.” Fingers ghost over her knee and she opens her eyes to find Shane sitting close. Jess is cleaning up their plates, packing up what remains of the food they brought home. There is a lot of food left; Pels is pretty sure it could be a midnight snack, and several meals tomorrow as well.

Shane coughs, and Pels realizes he must have said something. “Um. What?”

“You seem lost in thought.” He turns his hand palm up on her knee, and she slides her hand over his. Her is so much smaller than his, but their hands curve together and it feels nice the way the bees buzz under her skin. “Want to talk about it?”

“Still processing,” she admits. “But every time—every step—I’m doing better with this. With all of us. I may not be prepared to go further than we have, but everything we’ve done so far is on the table pretty much any time you want. We can hold hands. Kiss. All of that. Just… I’m good with it. And I really like seeing how comfortable you guys are together.” She flushes because like might not be the right word for it. She’s warm all over when she thinks about how they touch so easily, like emotions flow between them as if Jess really is made of lava. “It’s like you’re already one person. One soul in two bodies. It makes sense. I couldn’t have matched with Jess without you, could I have? Because you’re a package deal. We… we already talked about this.”

In the background, Jess stands in front of the fridge, the door open, a container in her left hand, her right hand lifted as she makes invisible notes in the air.

“Sometimes looking at the exact same thing from a different angle helps,” Shane says. He shifts so he’s sitting against the side of the bed with her, their hands still tangled and their bodies pressed together from shoulder to ankle. “Movie night, or sleep?”

Pels is not expecting the change in topic, and she doesn’t have an immediate answer.

Jess turns around, her brow furrowed and the fridge still open behind her. “What if…? No, that’s not it.”

“Put the container in and close the fridge,” Shane directs.

Jess seems surprised to realize she’s still holding food, and finishes cleaning up. She joins them on the floor, leaving space between where they sit and herself. Pels appreciates it—she’s not sure she could manage cuddling both of them at the same time. She’s not there yet.

Although.

“I am wide awake,” she admits. “And I feel like I could fall asleep at any moment. Would it be okay if I put on pajamas and crawled into bed? We could watch a movie, but then if I fall asleep no one has to move me.”

Jess looks over her head at Shane, and Pels is positive they are having a silent conversation that she can’t hear. They really are one soul in two bodies.

“I’ll be back in a minute; you guys get changed.” Shane pushes to his feet and grabs a pair of pants out of his bag before leaving.

Pels changes into shorts and a t-shirt quickly, her back to Jess, and is under the covers of Jess’s bed before Shane returns. Shane shakes out a sleeping bag on the floor, creating a makeshift bed, while Jess climbs over Pels to lie against the wall. Jess wraps an arm around Pels, holding her safely so she won’t fall off the narrow twin.

It’s almost too warm, and it makes focus on the movie Shane picks difficult. But it’s safe, and every once in a while Jess kisses her shoulder, and that’s just so nice that Pels floats along in soft bliss.

The Healers said she needed rest to heal, and she can’t think of anything more restful than this. She’s going to be fine for class in the morning.

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go-hux-yourself · 5 years ago

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Holdout

Request fill for @thethespacecoyote: Hux trying and failing to keep his pregnancy secret from SL kylo because he thinks he wont want it but when kylo does find out, he's SOFT. YES this is right up my alley let’s do it!

Also on my ao3 here :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

He’d thought he could hide it.

A tall order when dealing with a mind-reader, but Hux was certain Kylo would have neither the inclination nor the interest in the rearing of children, so the alpha was left in the dark about the pregnancy.

It would be a while more before the omega’s lithe stature gave away his secret. A while more for Hux to figure out how to hide it from a Supreme Leader that sometimes shared his bed, but had no greater urge in life than that which to hunt down every last faction the Resistance still had left.

Kylo had let it consume him, as if there were something he needed to prove, and his sole focus had kept him from Hux’s bed for weeks now. The First Order had been keeping very busy indeed; little time for attention on personal matters.

Hux hadn’t even noticed his heat was two week’s past, so embroiled in the detailed movements of the Supreme Leader and their various military incursions was he. Intelligence was coming in from various posts in the galaxy, and Kylo left Hux to delegate as he personally searched after leads. It was an exhausting amount of work, and one that prioritized sleep well over any ideas so strenuous as sex.

One exhausted moment of introspection about how he was sure to stress himself right into heat he was so tired, and Hux realized with dread that he was actually overdue for his own.

One panicked visit with a medical droid whose memory he wiped immediately after, and Hux was blankly faced with the fact that he was just over two months pregnant with the Supreme Leader’s pup.

It was far from an ideal situation.

Unbonded. The solidity of his relationship with Ren tumultuous at most. They got along best between the sheets, though professionally they still butted heads a great deal.

It was clear that his priorities and that of the new Supreme Leader went in opposite directions towards the same goal of conquest. They both wanted the old galactic systems of rule to die. Peace from war. Order. Crime punished, and people efficiently managed into a working system of governance.

Ren thought the destruction of the order of the Jedi would secure that end, and meanwhile Hux sent battalions of stormtroopers after Resistance hideouts to strike hard and fast with confirmed intelligence. But Ren was clear that he wanted every lead chased, every whisper checked out, and it spread their resources far too thin, their net cast just a bit wider than Hux would say was effective. Much of the crew had pulled extended shifts in order to deal with the heavier workload and sifting through gathered intel, and Hux was no exception.

His own duties as General kept him far too busy to add an infant to the mix. The idea of sending his own progeny away from him into the First Order nurseries, and subsequently into his Stormtrooper program, would never be an option. He’d never much entertained the idea of having children but already he was fiercely possessive about the pup inside him. His father might not have wanted him, but he desperately wanted his own.

Hux liked kids. They were moldable, adaptable, and the idea of being the father he never had-- to love, to cuddle, to teach his own child to carve out their destiny- plucked at some sore spot inside of him that would do anything to keep it.

When weighing the possible outcomes of telling Kylo, his mind easily imagined the worst scenarios, hard-based on their once-violent professional relationship. Even in the better-case scenarios, he couldn’t imagine a Kylo that would choose fatherhood over being Supreme Leader; to prioritize time for a pup over waging war. And with his hang-ups over family-- ignoring Hux’s own for the moment- his concerns weren’t just over Kylo’s indifference; he was worried the alpha would actively not want it.

Even now with their sometimes-heated arguments, he wasn’t necessarily afraid of the other man. Kylo had promised to never use the force against him in such a manner again, and while Hux did believe him, the cynical, protective part of himself still decided it wasn’t worth risking the not-yet-visible bump on his middle.

He could take being thrown about by the Force-- the terror didn’t do him any physical harm like the hard edges of console once had- but if Ren were to be particularly upset upon Hux’s insistence on keeping it-- in wanting some say in choosing just who would be siring any heirs to his reign- it wouldn’t take much to make the omega miscarry.

So Hux kept quiet, abandoning any ideas of letting the alpha know, and trying to formulate some plan to keep it from the other man’s notice before and after it was born. He had a lot to prepare, and many plans to make.

He didn’t mention it when Ren returned from some trek through an icy moon, warming himself around Hux for the first time in weeks with kisses and touches he’d sorely missed. And when Ren left on some mission again without even bothering to inform him, he felt vindicated in his choice to not inform the alpha in fair play.

Hux began his plan of discouraging their trysts when his belly began to show obvious signs of the pup there, pleading exhaustion to their workload that he followed up with a jab about how surely their Supreme Leader couldn’t spare the time to fuck him when he didn’t even have enough time to inform the fleet when and where he took off to at a whim. It only helped matters that, in terms of security, Hux’s jab was in-line with current Order protocol for high-ranking officers. As Supreme Leader, that made him the rule, rather than the exception.

It played well right into Kylo’s own petty sense of spite, and he’d declared that two could play at this game; if the man thought he could dictate when they’d fuck, then Kylo could wait until Hux became so frustated for his knot that he’d be begging his way back into the alpha’s bed.

That had been about three months prior, and the past three weeks Hux had been growing considerably concerned that his greatcoat could no longer hide the prominent bulge of his pup beneath his modified uniform. Holo-calls instead of in-person meetings, and general avoidance of one-another was the only thing standing between Hux and Kylo finding out his secret. But he knew that the further along the pup got, the more difficult his plan would be.

Thankfully, one could always count on Kylo being far more petty than he. The alpha avoided direct-contact with him (even if he made allusions to innuendo in order to frustrate Hux on their private calls), but by some mercy of the galaxy, Hux’s secret was still unknown by the Supreme Leader.

He knew his scent must be unmistakable now, and he was fairly certain that the inquisitive little looks he saw Mitaka give him were informed of the fact that their commander was pregnant. It was a credit to his crew that they largely pretended otherwise. Hux did the same, continuing in his duties no matter how his feet hurt or his back ached, trying in vain to keep to his usual routine and workload when his body was busy growing a little person.

If Hux’s crew didn’t know he was pregnant before, then when he’d collapsed from exhaustion on the bridge, they certainly did after.

Waking up on his back minutes later with Mitaka and petty officer Thanisson leaned over him was as disorienting as it was embarrassing, and Hux tried to right himself before the worried voice of his lieutenant gave him pause.

“Sir! General, please, we’ve called for a hover-stretcher--” Mitaka’s concerned voice informed, the other omega’s hands palm-up as if to deter him from getting to his feet. It was clear he wanted to touch Hux to keep him down, but also wouldn’t dare to do so without permission.

Thanisson got to his feet, informing those alerted that Hux had regained consciousness. Mitaka kept his place at Hux’s side.

“Hover-stretcher?” Hux repeated, cheeks growing a bit red as it sank in that not for the first time in his career, he was laid out flat on the bridge of his own star ship. His eyes darted around, passing over Thanisson’s face as the beta was speaking to presumed medical officers on comm. Mitaka’s gaze settled on Hux’s belly more than once, and Hux realized the telling-bump in his uniform was clearly visible in the way his greatcoat had fallen open on his figure. The stretch of modified, regulation pregnancy-attire over his belly was informing of its own, but splayed out on the flat of his back, it became wildly apparent that he wasn’t just pregnant, but heavily pregnant. Hux could curse Ren’s imposingly large stature later for what was surely going to be a pup that would take after its sire’s height, but for now, he focused on keeping his breathing even and deep even as his heart rate sped up. This wasn’t knowledge he could easily take back.

It was telling in the way that the other officers on-deck kept their attentions on their stations and not on the general lying prone on the floor. His secret was thoroughly exposed, even if the crew willfully ignored the spectacle as Mitaka personally fussed. He didn’t know if the crew were doing it for his benefit or his dignity, but the shock of their general effectively passing-out on-duty would have been cause for the exact opposite of focus on their jobs. That they weren’t gawking told him plenty.

The thought made Hux flush deeper.

“You collapsed, sir,” Mitaka informed in a gentle, respectful tone. “Until the medical team gets here...” his eyes darted to Hux’s belly in concerned meaning as he trailed off, still not touching the other man but gesturing for him to remain where he was.

Hux realized with gratitude that Mitaka was trying even now to be discreet, but as it was abundantly clear that the entire bridge now knew that someone had bred their general, not mentioning his belly for what it was was a practice in well-meaning futility. “I’m fine, Lieutenant.”

“But sir, your--”

He wanted to snap at the other man for defying him, but it was clear in the way Mitaka’s eyes continued to bounce back to his belly that the other omega was just worried about his pup. Maybe it was hormones, or just stress, but Hux appreciated the concern deeply. He bitterly thought it was nice that someone else cared about the pup, let alone knew of its existence, and also thought that that person should be Kylo.

The alpha was still hell-bent on waging his one-man wars on minor Resistance outposts than sharing Hux’s bed, though.

He reminded himself he’d chosen this, and that he’d have to step up his plans perhaps a bit sooner.

“Nothing feels wrong,” Hux informed as he managed himself to his knees, eyes scanning defensively over the crew as he possessively touched over his belly with both hands. Thanisson politely looked away; Mitaka awaited instructions. “Help me to my feet, Lieutenant.”

Mitaka stood, uncertain about how or where to touch the general, but Hux just extended a gloved hand to the other man, more than capable of still hauling himself around, albeit a bit cumbered. He pulled himself to his feet with Mitaka’s forearm.

“...Sir?”

Hux felt nauseous, a little dizzy, but the adrenaline of that slight humiliation would be plenty to get him back to his quarters and between sheets that had lost Ren’s scent some time ago. He gave the other omega a look before gratefully removing his gloved hand from the man’s arm. “I shall retire to my quarters for the remainder of the shift. You may send a medical droid there. I leave the bridge to you.”

A look passed between Thanisson and Mitaka, but neither pressed the general on an escort. Their concern was palpable, but the last thing Hux wanted was an audience as he effectively retreated from the bridge. He wouldn’t faint twice if he had any say in the matter, and it was with that focus that his feet brought him without incident to his door, and he deposited himself in bed.

The medical unit that entered his quarters gave him a vitamin-drip and beeped out that he was anemic and overworked, but that his pup was okay. Nothing he frankly didn’t already know or suspect. He’d limited his own caf intake significantly since finding out about the pup, and he hadn’t used a stim in ages. The strain of working without stimulants had simply caught up with him.

It didn’t help that even with all his plans in motion, his hormones craved the alpha that had put him in this state; even as he was sure that Kylo wouldn’t be interested in it. Rather traipse across the galaxy in search of sith relics after snuffing out Resistance cells than spend his time chasing after Hux. Far too busy to indulge in a pregnant omega who was supposed to be his second-in-command with his first priority to the fleet.

He wrapped his arms over his belly reassuringly. He didn’t need Kylo. He didn’t want him. He could manage this all on his own. He could prove he could still keep the Order running as he always had, pregnant belly or no.

Hux considered wiping this incident-- and the record of the pregnancy- from his medical file once the droid was done with him, but considered it an act in futility. Too many eyes had seen what he’d been hiding, reinforcing what they must’ve suspected for months now. Whether it got around the ship or not could be deterred with the threat of reconditioning. Kylo never checked medical records anyway, and the pup would be here in a few short months besides.

He complied with the droid’s orders for rest, but his sleep was plagued with dreams of an uncertain future for his pup; a future both with and without Kylo in it.

Hux tossed in his sleep, waking from nightmares only to hunker down into the pillows defiantly. He placed a warm palm over his belly as if to soothe the pup from his own dreams.

It would be okay. It would all be okay.

Second chapter will be found on the ao3 post for this fic :)

kofi | ao3

#kylux fanfic #kylux #omegaverse #armitage hux #kylo ren #omega hux #alpha kylo ren #fanfic #my fic #all tags detailed on the ao3 post :)#mpreg #im still taking kylux and gingerpilot prompts btw :)#trying to get some short stuff done for funsies :D

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what-even-is-thiss · 5 years ago

Text

Off of Land, Out of Water, Part 2, Help

It’s part 2 of the mer au. Let me know if I need to add warnings. 2,721 words

Abstract: Logan and Virgil relearning some things.

Part 1 Next

2. Help.

Virgil held onto Logan’s arm for a while at Logan’s insistence.

“You didn’t sleep, you shouldn’t be swimming much.” he had said.

For once Virgil didn’t protest.

They got to the school, a low building in more shallow waters where people went to memorize the history of merfolk. Undersea people had no written language so a select few with good memories were chosen as young children to learn trade secrets, history, how the systems of government worked, and yes, any interaction they had ever had with humans. Logan was appointed as a a history scholar but always felt he would be better at memorizing things found in science and math and magic. The masters had insisted, however, for whatever reason, that he learn history. So that is what he did. The names and places of all merfolk from the central Atlantic region, their ancestors’ place of origin, their previous migration patterns, the major things that happened in their politics and history were all in his head. Soon, if he passed this test, he would work as an archivist. Keep relics safe, answer merpeople’s questions about their family history when they came to the school. When he’s older he’ll take on an apprentice and teach them everything he knows. Literally. All that was ahead of him though. For now in this moment he had to start reciting.

And his chest was feeling weird.

“Virgil, I don’t like to use this word more often than I have to, but my chest feels weird.” Logan said casually as they waited outside the stone exam room where people had carved many pictures in the stone walls of teachers being eaten by sharks or stabbed with spears.

“Your chest feels…. weird?” Virgil asked.

“Yes. Strange. Odd. Queer.” He also made a low humming in his throat in mer language to further solidify his point that whatever he was feeling definately wasn’t ordinary.

“Like are you anxious?” Virgil asked, a horrible note of hope in his voice.

“Hardly.” Logan said. “I know everything I should. But my lungs, my inner gills, I…”

Virgil suddenly grabbed Logan’s arm and started pulling him away.

“Virgil! The test!” Logan exclaimed.

“No time for tests! Your stomach is going to start hurting soon! I knew it was you. I just knew it. Oh God, why did it have to be you?” Virgil said.

Logan swore very loudly with a whistle and a click as his stomach started hurting just as Virgil had predicted. His head went light. People made extremely disapproving noises as Virgil pushed them out of the way. They knocked a decorative rope made for graduation season and New Years off of a building. Virgil was moving upwards at a dangerous pace, somehow not bothered by the change in pressure, his black and grey scales and pale skin both began to reflect real sunlight rather than the bottled kind.

“Virgil take me to a healer!” Logan called, trying to fight his way out of Virgil’s grasp.

But it was no use. Even on Logan’s best day and Virgil’s worst Virgil was still stronger, bigger, and had a much tighter will than him. His fear made him unstoppable. Logan could vaguely hear shouts and other confused noises behind him as his skin began to feel gross. Just really, really gross. The shimmering light of the surface became visible. Everything was expanding too quickly. Somehow Virgil didn’t slow down. His desperate grip on Logan’s arm began to draw blood. Logan’s stomach reached critical levels of pain. Oxygen bubbles began forming in his lungs.

“Surface… too… fast…” Logan managed. His vision went blurry.

He blacked out.

……….

“Keep walking, Virgil.” dad said. “The car’s that way.”

“Dad… it…” Virgil started.

He fell to his knees.

“Verge!” his mom yelled.

Through his blurry vision Virgil thought he could see her straight curtain of bleach blonde hair. The boardwalk was hard and yet somehow soft under his knees.

“Mom, what’s wrong with him?” Virgil heard his brother say.

“Be quiet, Roman. We need to think. I told you we shouldn’t bring him to the ocean until he’s grown. I told you!”

“I told him to not touch the water, Jen!”

“What…” Virgil tried. “My stomach… Mom?”

He fell fully onto his side. His lungs were starting to burn.

“It wants him now, John! There’s no one around! That witch made sure of it! Do it!”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen yet! He’s only thirteen!”

“Look at him! The ocean doesn’t care! Do it!”

The air suddenly felt very dry despite the sea spray around him. For some reason Virgil knew this had to do with when he had stood in the waves despite his parents’ warnings. Though why suddenly being sick would be related to that he didn’t know. He felt his heart increase to a dangerous pace as some arms belonging to he didn’t know who began pulling his clothes off of him.

Virgil cried. But he couldn’t cry. Some hands, he didn’t know whose, threw him into the air. He felt water engulf his naked body. He couldn’t move his legs apart. He gasped in a mouthful of salt.

He blacked out.

……….

Logan opened his eyes and tried looking around. Everything was heavy except for his lungs which were horribly light. It was almost as if they didn’t exist. His body hurt. The surface under him was hard. All he could see was blurry grey shapes.

“Vir-gil?” he asked. He tried to whistle out his friend’s mer name but found that he couldn’t. His mouth felt strange. His hair felt strange. His skin felt strange. His tail felt… His…

“H… huh?” he asked nobody in particular.

A hand on his back helped him sit up.

“They’re called legs.” said a familiar deep and ominous voice.

“My teeth are…”

“Not pointy. Take it slow. It’s hard to adjust.”

Logan ran his tongue along his teeth. Most of them were flat. They had become… what’s the word? Omnivorous? Flat? Annoyingly small?

“I’m going to put something on your face now.” Virgil said. “I borrowed them from my younger brother. They’re his old prescription. It’ll be better than nothing.”

Virgil carefully put some kind of glass and wire thing on Logan’s face over his eyes and Logan stopped seeing a blur and finally saw his friend’s face. His black hair wasn’t floating around, nor was it plastered to his head with water. It was dry. Before now Logan hadn’t even known what that word truly meant. He ran his fingers into his own hair. Dry. He looked at Virgil. Down his body. He was…

“You are…”

“Human. Yeah. Try looking down.”

Logan looked down.

“Okay clearly that isn’t natural.”

His friend laughed. “You said you know how full mammals reproduce.” Virgil said. He lifted up his shirt and pointed to the large inverted scar on his stomach. The one Logan had asked about every time he’d seen him for the past ten years. “That’s how I got this scar. From being born. We call it a belly button. Or, a navel I guess.”

Virgil jumped up and went to what Logan recognized from drifting junk he had seen in the ocean to be an ice chest. He looked around and saw that they were under a cliff face, or he assumed it was a cliff face from carvings he’d seen. He also slowly realized that he was physically human now and that according to what he’d heard about human customs....

“You need help putting these on?” Virgil asked, pulling some clothes out of the ice chest.

“Most likely. I’ve never had to… um…”

“You’ll get used to it. Don’t try to understand anything yet. Trust me. It isn’t worth it.”

Virgil gently helped his friend into a pair of boxers and some jeans. He brought out a polo shirt.

“You’re about my younger brother’s size so I brought some of his clothes. Hope you like polo shirts. That’s basically all he wears. Well, except for things with cats on them.”

Virgil instructed Logan on how to put a shirt on, helping him put his arms through the holes.

“Now, before I see if you can walk, word to the wise, don’t take your shirt off in front of people. Almost every human that has ever lived has a belly button, and you don’t.”

“Why?” Logan asked. “What is any of this? What is happening? What are you?”

“Okay, L. Clearly you were lying when you said that you know how mammals reproduce. I’ll have the talk with you later. I’ll have a lot of talks with you later. For right now, I’m gonna help you stand.”

……….

“That’s it. Put your entire body into it.” she encouraged.

Virgil clicked out her name angrily and huffed, but he moved his tail nonetheless.

“That’s good. You’re getting better at pronouncing my name!” she whistled.

“I’ve been thinking about a human name for you. I decided. I’m gonna call you Val in human.” Virgil said.

“If that makes you feel better. I don’t need a human name though.” Val said.

“Am I done yet?” he asked.

“Do you think you can swim next to me?” she asked.

“Ugh, fine.” Virgil spat. “You’re too happy.”

“So you keep telling me, guppy.”

“I’m already an adolescent!” Virgil hissed, showing his teeth.

Sometimes instincts really did override what he’d learned as a human. Even though he was, for all intents and purposes, physically a merman now, he did age a bit faster than other merpeople. A merman his age would normally be figuring out social rules and not have any hormones to speak of. The equivalent of a human nine year old. Virgil, on the other hand, was now supposed to be learning how to be an adult, which he couldn’t do when he didn’t know how to move around or speak in full sentences. He was supposed to be wrestling his younger brother and defending him from their mom, going to his older brother’s music recitals and hating it, learning how to cook from his parents, crying over final exams, worrying about which high school he was going to. Watching Gators football games and cursing as he stabbed himself in the eye with a mascara brush for the first time.

But instead it was like he was a toddler all over again.

Val and Verge swam slowly together in silence to the edge of the reefs where her house was, dangerously close to human civilization. Virgil was exhausted.

“Why am I even here? Why can’t I just stay human?” he asked as she held him tight when he was ready to sleep.

“It’s because of what came before us, guppy.” Val said, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s just something you got caught up in. I’ll tell you soon.”

……….

“I am so heavy.” Logan said, rubbing his injured knee.

He had knees now. He… no, don’t process that. Save it for later.

“Everyone’s heavy. It’s just more obvious on land.” Virgil said, holding his hand out again.

Logan took a deep breath of briny sea air and pulled on his friend’s hand. He managed to stand with some help.

“We can carry you to the car if you can’t make it.” Virgil said.

“No. Cars sound horrifying and I’d rather know that I’m able to get away from it. And your brothers. They don’t sound agreeable. Let me go.” Logan said.

“Alright, but I hope you know that almost nobody learns to walk in one day.” Virgil said.

“I’m not a child!” Logan exclaimed.

“Yeah that’s what I said too.” Virgil said as he let go.

Logan looked down at his feet now trapped in things called “tennis shoes” and took a breath.

“Just focus on not falling down.” Virgil said.

“You’ve already said that. And I have a good memory. I…”

“Yeah, I know L. Just look up. Look at me. Step forward. Just one step for now.”

Logan looked up. Virgil was a lot bigger than him even as a human. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He wanted to take a step towards Virgil to point at him and tell him that this wasn’t fair. He tried to do that but took two steps and fell into Virgil’s arms instead.

“Further than you got last time.” Virgil said.

“You’re never this patient.” Logan grumbled into Virgil’s chest.

“I have a long term memory, you know. Swimming isn’t easy to learn as an adult. Or a teenager.” Virgil said. “Come on, we’ve got another hour before they get here. Maybe I can see you fall face first into the rocks a few more times.”

Logan tried standing up again.

“Virgil, how long were you… before we met?”

“A hundred days.” Virgil said. “Just living with Val, learning how to exist again. It was another year after that I got to visit my family again.”

Logan took a step forward.

“I can’t wait a hundred days. Much less a year.”

He took another step forward. Then another. Then he fell over again. Virgil caught him before he hit the ground.

“Well at least you’re giving me a good arm workout today.” Virgil grunted, lifting his friend up again. “God, Patton is rubbing off on me. I just looked on the bright side of something.”

“I don’t know who that is, but he’s clearly corrupting you.” Logan paused. “That was a joke.”

“I know, dude. You don’t have to tell me every time. He’s my younger brother.”

He sat Logan down on the rocks.

“Well I suppose I know where you go when you leave without any warning now.” Logan said, rubbing his face underneath the glasses. He clicked his tongue in a small curse. Some equivalent to “Crud” or “Shoot.” in mer speak.

“Yup.” Virgil said. “Florida. Lucky you.”

“That sounded suspiciously like sarcasm.” Logan said as he rubbed his suffering knees.

“It was.”

……….

Virgil focused on breathing slowly. He swam up cautiously.

“You’re shaking, buddy. Come on, you’ve been growing. They’re gonna want to see that.” Val said.

“I can’t.” Virgil said, stopping suddenly. “I can’t.”

He turned around. Val grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey, you survived the first day of school and talked to the elders. You can do anything.” She said.

She gently ran one of her hands along his neck and to the base of his spine, a gesture he recently learned was used to soothe people when they were nervous, especially between parents and children. He nervously flicked his tail at that realization. How did Val see him, really?

“They’re your family. They want to see you.” she said. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve become. And next year? You’ll get to visit them properly. Go on.”

She gestured upwards. Virgil swallowed.

“Alright, but I won’t like it.”

“Sure you won’t.”

He swam cautiously upward on his own. It had been so long since that day at the boardwalk where everyone had suddenly disappeared and his stomach had started hurting. The day he had been thrown in to appease the ocean and hadn’t seen his family since. How much did they know? How could they forgive him for not listening? How could he forgive them for not telling him why he couldn’t touch the water? Could he explain everything to them? How he looked like a freak even down there? How badly he wanted to come home? How badly he wanted to stay?

He caught sight of the correct pile of rocks and aimed for it. Two almost familiar figures were peering into the water. He broke the surface.

“Virgil, baby!” his brothers were pushed aside and almost fell into the water as his mom knelt and hugged him around the neck.

Virgil blew the water out of his lungs and smiled with all his teeth despite how embarrassed he was at the size of them. He saw his dad standing behind them and when it was his turn he hugged even harder. If merpeople could cry Virgil knew he would be doing it.

“Hi dad.” he whispered into his father’s shoulder. “Hi.”

Patton and Roman both smiled at him from behind their parents’ tearful babbling. Roman gave a wave. The same one he did whenever a piano recital was over. Virgil sighed. It was alright.

#roman said a thing #mer au #sanders sides au #sanders sides #roman wrote a thing #analogical #platonic analogical #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #fan fiction

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angelofthequeers · 5 years ago

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Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Why yes, as much as I love Lady Noire with all my heart, I’m slightly creeped out by the fact that her outfit is a leather suit that’s so skin-tight that it makes her boobs pop and her belly button visible. When she’s FIFTEEN. (Or 14. I don’t even know their ages anymore).

Chapter 36 | Chapter 38 | AO3 link

His lady. Marinette. His lady is Marinette. How had Misterbug never seen it before? The same pigtails, dark as night; the same angular eyes that shine with a determined ferocity that’s always struck him as familiar, even if he’d never quite figured out why. Even though those eyes are now the cat-like green of his when he’s Chat Noir and her black hair falls down her back in a loose braid, she’s still recognisably Ladybug. And she looks utterly incredible in her suit: a cropped, long-sleeved black qipao top with bright green lining and two small slits up both sides at the bottom, over what looks like black gloves and a tight black suit with thin green lines down her sides and outer thighs. She’s also got a thin black belt with a green paw print on one side around her waist, along with knee-high black boots with green trim around the top and soles that appear to be green with black paw pads if Misterbug looks closely as they run.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is stunning, no matter what guise she’s in. How did he get so lucky as to fall for the same girl twice? All his feelings for Ladybug, died down to background noise since being with Marinette, are rushing back to him in full force, filling his veins with jittery little ladybugs instead of blood and warming him better than any expensive heating system ever could.

Of course, it’s not a hundred percent certain. But honestly, who else could it be? Marinette trips down the stairs and hurts her left arm (although he’s got doubts about that being an accident, after her recent run of bad luck), and Ladybug’s left arm is hurt so badly that she can’t be Ladybug? And every single time Marinette’s been around, Ladybug hasn’t been, and vice versa? The way she’s been odd every time he’s brought up Marinette? How she was conveniently out on a secret mission when Evillustrator was targeting Marinette? No; now that Misterbug’s mind has connected the two girls, there’s no way he can see Marinette and Ladybug as two different people.

But what’s he supposed to do? He can’t just up and tell her. She’d flip out if she knew. And…maybe he’s just a bit scared. Maybe, after Marinette’s confession about the ways in which she used to pursue Adrien, there’s that fear that she’ll not want to be with Chat Noir if she learns that they’re the same people, especially since she’s confided in him without the knowledge that he’s the boy she was talking about. And considering that Marinette is one of Misterbug’s best friends and he’d kill everyone in the room and then himself if anything happened to her, there’s no way in hell he’s going to do anything to risk losing her.

“Um, excuse me, what the hell?” says a familiar voice, cutting through Misterbug’s thoughts. He and Lady Noire have finally made it outside, where there are vines and tendrils covering almost every inch of the place, plunging the courtyard into the quiet, breath-holding atmosphere of the heart of a forest. What the hell is this akuma annoyed about?

“Oh, hi, Honeybee!” Lady Noire says. “Chat and I decided to try switching our Miraculouses for a bit, to get accustomed to each other’s powers.”

“We – did! Yeah!” Misterbug says. “Misterbug and Lady Noire, at your service!”

Honeybee wrinkles her nose. “Eww. Ladybug looks way better in spots than as a mangy alley cat.”

“Luckily for her, she doesn’t have to give a fuck about what you think!” Rena Rouge says brightly as she lands beside Honeybee, while Carapace skids to a halt next to Lady Noire. Honeybee flips Rena Rouge off in response.

“Guys, focus!” Lady Noire easily slips into her role as the team leader. Another sign that Misterbug had missed! Marinette is class president; she’s a natural leader! “What are we up against?”

“A hacked-off gardener, I think?” Rena Rouge says. “Called himself Tangleweed before he ran and got his plants to try and strangle the hell out of us.”

“How do we find him, then?” Misterbug says. “With all these plants, he could be anywhere.”

“Just follow the leafy green road, dude,” Carapace says. Huh. Now that Misterbug looks closer, the vines and other plants do seem to be trailing from a common source outside what he assumes is the school gates, not that he can make sense of what’s up and down in this place.

“Well,” Misterbug says, “everything will be just vine once – ow!”

“Leave the puns to the clown, bugaboy,” Lady Noire says with a charming little smile, retracting her baton after bopping him over the head with it.

“Okay, I take it back,” Honeybee blurts out. “Lady Noire is just as hot as Ladybug, and feel free to stomp my head into the ground whenever you want. I’ll totally thank you for it.”

Lady Noire snorts at that. “I’ll remember your offer. But let’s take down Tangleweed before I go stomping on heads.”

Following the road of plants leads them out of the school and into the streets of Paris, which have also been overrun and choked just like the courtyard. Once they’re out of the school, however, following the plants is unnecessary to find Tangleweed. Unless Misterbug’s sorely mistaken, the massive flower bud on the tip of the Eiffel Tower is most certainly the location of this akuma.

“If this is another Horrificator pod person thing, he better not be slimy,” Honeybee says with another nose wrinkle. “Ick.”

“I’d comment on that, but I’m afraid Lady Noire would hit me next,” Rena Rouge says dryly.

“Damn right,” Lady Noire says with a shit-eating grin. Fantastic. Is Plagg’s bastard energy rubbing off on her? “Well, bugaboy, what’s the plan?”

Misterbug blinks when his teammates turn to stare at him expectantly. “M-Me?” he stammers. “Aren’t you the brains, milady?”

“Sure, when I’m Ladybug,” Lady Noire says, twisting the tip of her boot on the ground coyly. Misterbug’s heart nearly gives out at the sight because this is his gorgeous girlfriend Marinette he’s talking to. “Come on, milord, I’m sure you can think of something.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Rena Rouge mutters.

“Payback’s a bitch,” Lady Noire grins.

“Well, you don’t have to watch me make out with my boyfriend! And ew, Ladybug watches me lock lips. I’m gonna make myself sick now.”

“Guys, focus!” Misterbug whines. Lady Noire falls silent, though her green cat eyes continue to glitter with mischief. “D’you think we can get to Tangleweed ourselves? Or should I Charm it?”

“Not this early,” Lady Noire says. “At least get closer and gather information. The Lucky Charm doesn’t just give you what you want. You have to make do with what you get and figure out how to win the battle!”

“May I just repeat,” Honeybee says, “please crush me into the ground.”

“Come on!” Lady Noire spins her baton. “Let’s go yank some weeds!”

“Hey, that’s my line!” Misterbug complains as he leaps after her, followed by Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Honeybee. It’s easy enough to make it to the Tower; the problems start when they try to scale it and a thick root appears out of nowhere and literally slaps Honeybee out of the air.

“Ah,” Misterbug says. “Yes. Because this was going to be easy, just for me.”

“You know, putting on this suit is probably the best thing I’ve ever done,” Lady Noire says cheerfully and bats a massive tendril of grass away from Rena Rouge with her good arm, wincing as she does so.

“Stop being a bastard and help me figure this out!”

“Fine, fine. Let’s try a distraction! Rena, Honey, keep him occupied. Misterbug, Carapace, and I will try and sneak around.”

“I grow gayer every time you call me Honey,” Honeybee says, then spins her trompo and leaps out onto a massive pink flower. “Hey! Planthead!”

“Look at Honeybee in her natural habitat!” Rena Rouge grins, stabbing a tendril with her flute. Honeybee shoots her a death glare.

“Come on!” Misterbug says. He, Lady Noire, and Carapace take off up the Tower, although Lady Noire noticeably winces every time she’s forced to put weight on her injured arm. Oh. Shit. Misterbug had forgotten about that!

“I’m fine,” Lady Noire huffs when she catches him staring. “Seriously.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that,” Misterbug says. “Look, you can stay on the ground and –”

“Like hell! I can still fight, bugaboy!”

“Uh, am I missing something, dudes?” Carapace says.

“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself even more!” Misterbug says.

“I don’t need you to coddle me! I can – ah!”

Tangleweed seems to have finally clued in that he’s getting a surprise visit from the rear. A vine lashes out and Lady Noire’s forced to dodge with the reflexes of, well…a cat. But she’s unprepared for the follow-up attack, especially as she hisses and cradles her arm to her chest, and she’s knocked off the beam that she’s clutching, hurtling towards the ground with a shrill scream as her staff clatters just out of reach.

“I got her!” Carapace says and dives after her before Misterbug can devolve into a panic attack at the sight of his lady plummeting off the Eiffel Tower. “Shellter!”

No. Focus! She can take care of herself. That’s why you love her. Focus, Misterbug!

Right. New plan. He drops to scoop up Lady Noire’s baton from the stray beam and then continues scaling the Tower, until he’s at the tip and right next to the massive pink flower bud. This close, it looks like it’s pulsating…wait, no, it is. Ew. Good thing Honeybee’s not up here or she’d be pitching a fit.

“Right,” Misterbug says, and takes advantage of Lady Noire not having her baton to add, “Time to nip this in the bud!” He shakes the baton to lengthen it, then jabs at the bud with a bellow…only to be grabbed by the ankles by a vine and hoisted into the air.

“Misterbug!” Lady Noire cries from on the ground as another tendril starts snaking towards his ears. “Use your Lucky Charm!”

Right! “Lucky Charm!” Warm power rushes through Misterbug as he bends up to toss his yo-yo, so unlike the cold energy of Cataclysm, and he’s so preoccupied with this warmth that he almost misses the summoned item that floats back towards him. It’s – “A feather? What am I supposed to do with this?”

Before he can start to think of a plan, though, there’s a low groaning sound that splits the air. The tendril around his ankles loosens, almost as though in shock, and he drops off the creaking, leaning Tower like a stone and is forced to whip his yo-yo off and toss it back at one of the beams to arrest his fall.

“Well? What did it give you?” Lady Noire says once he’s on the ground and can see the reason for his release: the bottom of the toppled Tower is corroded, just like whenever he uses his Cataclysm as Chat Noir. In response to her question, Misterbug holds out his hand to reveal the feather.

“I don’t know what to do with it!” he says. “I mean, I thought of tickling it, but you’d do something totally different! It can’t be that easy!”

Lady Noire hums and looks back at the collapsed Tower. “Well, I’d come up with some convoluted plan, but you’re a simple, straightforward guy,” she says. “Maybe it is that easy. But you can’t just get up there and tickle the akuma without coming up with a plan, which is the whole point of the Lucky Charm.”

“And we have to do it fast, dude,” Carapace says. “I’m gonna change back in a few minutes. And so’ll Lady Noire.”

“Well, the obvious thing would be to have Rena keep it occupied with Mirage while I tickle the flower and Honeybee paralyses Tangleweed,” Misterbug says slowly. “But it can’t be that simple…right?”

“Why not?” Lady Noire says with a small grin. “It’s still a plan. Carapace and I can help Rena Rouge keep him busy until our timers run out. Nice thinking, milord.”

“Alright, let’s freakin’ do this.” Rena Rouge twirls her flute and raises it to her lips to play a little tune. “Mirage!”

Birds. Her illusion is birds. Hundreds of them, flapping around Tangleweed’s vines and vanishing in orange light when the vines touch them, but they seem to do the trick of keeping his attention focused away from the superheroes, as his vines start to lash out at them.

“Let’s go!” Misterbug takes off running for the fallen Eiffel Tower with Honeybee, ducking and weaving through vines and flowers and leaves, batting them away when they react to his presence and try to grab him once again.

“Ew,” Honeybee grimaces when she and Misterbug finally make it to the pulsating pink bud. “Gross.”

“That’s what I said,” Misterbug says. “You ready?”

Honeybee steels herself and nods. “Venom!” she says and catches her throbbing trompo. Then she wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. I’m never gonna be able to look at my weapon the same way again.”

“Get ready to pollinate this plant,” Misterbug grins. Honeybee gives him such a venomous look that he’s surprised he doesn’t drop dead on the spot. “Fine, fine, I’ll lay off the jokes.”

“Just tickle the damn thing already!” Honeybee says. Sticking out his tongue – because okay, Adrien’s technically not yet friends with Chloe again and she doesn’t know he’s Misterbug slash Chat Noir, but it’s so much fun to mess with her – he steps up to the bud and starts to tickle it with the little red feather. The bud quivers, then shivers, then thrashes wildly and falls open to reveal the green-skinned man inside. Honeybee’s on the case straight away, jabbing her trompo into Tangleweed’s arm to freeze him on the spot.

“Nice,” Misterbug says. “Where d’you think the akuma is?”

Honeybee raises an eyebrow. “Probably the shears he’s very obviously holding in his left hand?” she says. Misterbug squints at Tangleweed. Oh. Right. That…would make sense. Biting down on a scathing retort, he grabs the shears and snaps them over his knee to release the evil purple and black butterfly.

“Don’t forget to capture the akuma!” Lady Noire calls over from the base of the ruined Eiffel Tower.

“Hey, I’ve always wanted to do this!” Misterbug swipes open his yo-yo and tosses it at the akuma, capturing it and reeling it back in. “No more evildoing for you, little akuma! Time to de-evilise!”

“You are a massive dork and I hate that I’m in your presence,” Honeybee says. Misterbug grins at her as he releases the now-white butterfly.

“Bye-bye, little butterfly!”

“Nope. Ladybug does it better. Don’t even try.”

“You could be just a little more encouraging, you know,” Misterbug says.

“That would imply that I approve of you being a gigantic loser.”

“Hmph. Don’t be such a hater.” Misterbug throws the feather into the air before Honeybee can retort, and when he calls, “Miraculous Misterbug!” the ladybug swarm surges around Paris, restoring the Eiffel Tower and other damaged buildings and vanishing any trace of Tangleweed’s plants.

“Did you seriously just –?”

“Hey, you told me not to try and be like Ladybug,” Misterbug grins. Honeybee’s eye twitches.

“Not bad for your first time as Ladybug, milord,” Lady Noire says as she bounds over with Rena Rouge and Carapace. She holds out her good fist, and Misterbug, Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Honeybee follow suit and the five of them cry, “Pound it!”

[8:33 pm] miraculass

ladyBIrd: nice job today, guys

what does the fox say: wait why is your name still that

what does the fox say: you’re lady noire now right

ladyBIrd: only temp

catitude: yeah we thought it’d be good to try each other’s powers

catitude: in case we ever have to swap and realise we’re fucked bc we don’t know how to use the other

mess w turt u get hurt: makes sense

honeybeetch: just pls hurry up and switch back

honeybeetch: i can’t stand to see ladybug like this

honeybeetch: i mean

honeybeetch: she’s hot but i can’t handle misterbug

honeybeetch: he’s a giant loser

catitude: :(

mess w turt u get hurt: omg chloe????

honeybeetch: !!!!!!!

ladyBIrd: caRAPACE NO

honeybeetch: FUCK IVE BEEN EXPOSED

what does the fox say: welp

catitude: f

airhead: Plot twist

airhead: Did I get that saying right?

mess w turt u get hurt: SRY

mess w turt u get hurt: i just

mess w turt u get hurt: the timing of honeybee esp after queen bee

mess w turt u get hurt: and how she’s a bitch here but like

mess w turt u get hurt: not nasty

mess w turt u get hurt: and chloe’s been better since mal

mess w turt u get hurt: even said congrats to marinette n adrien at school that day

mess w turt u get hurt: idk how chloe and honey were together after mal but prob rena

honeybeetch: only ladybug can call me honey shellhead

mess w turt u get hurt: only rena can call me shellhead fuzzhead

what does the fox say: aww i didn’t know we were at that stage in our relationship

mess w turt u get hurt: stfu don’t make a big deal of it or anythin

what does the fox say: 0:)

catitude: dw honey we’re not taking the miraculous

honeybeetch: good bc like fuck i’ll give it

ladyBIrd: Honeybee

honeybeetch: ugh fine

honeybeetch: only for u lb

honeybeetch: but thanks for not taking it

ladyBIrd: just

ladyBIrd: stop figuring each other out

catitude: pls

catitude: idk who milady is

catitude: now i feel sad :(

ladyBIrd: ugh

ladyBIrd: you’re a dork

catitude: eat me ;)

honeybeetch: ew get your kink away from me

airhead: Is it too late to give back my Miraculous?

ladyBIrd: yes

catitude: yes

mess w turt u get hurt: yes

what does the fox say: yes

honeybeetch: yes

honeybeetch: anyway later losers

honeybeetch: late night massage calling my name

airhead: My mother will be expecting me

honeybeetch: mine won’t

honeybeetch: not since i told her to gtfo back to new york

honeybeetch: don’t think she wants to talk to me for the next century

what does the fox say: yeah i should start on my homework

mess w turt u get hurt: SHIT FORGOT STUDY DATE WITH GF

what does the fox say: loooool

catitude: f

catitude: let’s take this to dms milady

ladyBIrd: such a gentleman

[8:39 pm] direct messages

Chat Noir: so um

Chat Noir: how’s the arm

Ladybug: sore as hell

Ladybug: freakin broke it

Chat Noir: oof

Ladybug: yep

Ladybug: prob gonna be out of commission for a few weeks

Ladybug: least the cure fixed any damage I did to it when I was transformed

Chat Noir: just treat plagg well

Ladybug: same with Tikki

Ladybug: I miss her already

Chat Noir: same with plagg

Chat Noir: even if he’s a gremlin

Ladybug: he told me to tell you he’s super offended

Chat Noir: let him be

Ladybug: um

Ladybug: ty

Ladybug: for having my back like that

Ladybug: don’t know how I would’ve managed with my arm

Chat Noir: of course bugaboo

Chat Noir: we’re a team

Ladybug: <3

Chat Noir: <3

Chat Noir: hate that i can’t go and see mari

Chat Noir: even if she’s out of the hospital she prob needs rest time

Ladybug: Chat

Ladybug: you’re her boyfriend

Ladybug: why the heck wouldn’t she want to see you

Chat Noir: i mean

Chat Noir: true

Chat Noir: i’m gonna go see her now

Ladybug: good

Ladybug: I’ll have fun with this homework

Chat Noir: ew

Ladybug: yep

Ladybug: thank god it wasn’t my right arm

“It’s really nice of you to do this, Adrien!” Tikki says as Adrien double checks his schoolbag the next morning to make sure that he’s got everything.

“Well, why wouldn’t I give Marinette a lift to school?” he says. “Someone’s got it in for her. They broke her arm! I mean, it was an “accident” that someone tripped and caused a domino effect just as Marinette happened to be on the stairs but come on. I’m going to stick by her and be her ‘lucky charm’.”

“Mhm.” Tikki’s mouth droops. “She doesn’t deserve what’s been happening to her. Uh, from what I’ve seen of her…”

“You don’t have to pretend.” After a night of tossing and turning, Adrien’s realised that this is the right thing to do. He can’t just sit back and pretend that he doesn’t know, especially since he’s got Ladybug’s kwami for the time being. “I know Marinette is Ladybug.”

“Eep!” Tikki claps her little paws over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to –”

“No, no, it wasn’t anything you said!” Adrien hurries to say. “I figured it out yesterday. Ladybug just happening to have the same injury as Marinette? And then everything clicked.”

Tikki sighs and lowers her arms. “I’m just surprised that none of the others figured it out,” she says. “You are one of the least observant lot we’ve had.”

“Hey,” Adrien protests, though he can’t find it in himself to take offence at something that true.

“When are you going to tell her that you know?”

“I don’t know. I want to but…I’m afraid, Tikki.”

“Adrien –”

“She likes me, right? Adrien? Even though she’s choosing to focus on Chat Noir?”

Tikki slowly nods.

“I know I’m just being silly but, like…part of me is terrified that she won’t want me anymore if she knows I’m Chat Noir. What if she decides that she likes Chat Noir better than Adrien and she wishes I’d never told her? That she’ll lose interest because it’s been me all this time and – and I’ll lose her.”

“That won’t happen, Adrien,” Tikki says firmly. “Marinette most definitely will still want you even if she knows you’re Chat Noir.”

“But –”

“Adrien, I’m her kwami. Trust me when I say that she won’t be disappointed at all. Knowing you’re Adrien would probably make her happier because then her heart won’t belong to two different boys when they’re the same person.”

“Right. Right. Just…give me some time? I still have to wrap my head around the fact that I fell for the same girl twice. Of course she’s Marinette! Who else is as brave and funny and gorgeous as Ladybug?”

Tikki giggles. “How about telling her when you give me back? That should give you enough time to sort yourself out.”

“This isn’t fair,” Adrien complains. “I got stuck with the gremlin kwami. Of course Marinette would get the sugary sweet one.”

Tikki laughs again. But at the sound of footsteps outside Adrien’s bedroom, she dives into the pocket of his green hoodie, just in time to avoid being seen as Nathalie opens the door.

“If you’re insistent on giving this Marinette girl a ride to school, you have to leave now, Adrien,” Nathalie says.

“Right.” Adrien grabs his bag and follows her. “Thanks, Nathalie.”

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