#anxiety makes you worry about everything and sometimes imagining the worst scenarios in your head

[canisalbus]

I was on Pinterest this morning and I saw this and went “MACHETE wait- he wouldn’t drink from a puddle even in an apocalypse” then I’m like- apocalypse machete wouldn’t last five minutes, he’d cringe at the thought of mud getting on his heels(tm) and Vasco would probably act like a hunting dog, he might do pretty well ina full on apocalypse or war or something, and he would carry machete over all the mud puddles Q^Q

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[fandom-imagines-stories]

There With You

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2532

Summary: A panic attack during the Victor’s tour leaves the reader gasping for breath backstage. Her fiance is able to calm her down, but now she’s afraid that what’s real and what’s pretend will blur together.

Notes: This is another kind of comfort fic based on my own experience, so I hope someone out there can connect with it. I love reading things to help calm myself down, so I hope that my comfort imagines can do that for somebody else. Plus Peeta is one of my comfort characters, so it works out. (Also, the reader has taken Katniss’ place in this scenario. Still love Katniss, but this fit the story)

Warnings: Panic attack, anxiety, the like (This is not a depiction of every kind of panic attack. This is just what I have experienced in the past)

-

None of this was supposed to happen. There wasn’t supposed to be two of you. There weren't supposed to be riots. The romance wasn’t supposed to be real.

Then why was he the only one keeping you from sprinting off that stage?

Peeta’s fingers were intertwined with yours as he spoke to the crowd, keeping you grounded. You tried to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the hundreds of eyes staring up at you. You looked up at the screens and saw her looking back at you. Her. The first person you’d ever killed and you couldn’t even bring yourself to think of her name.

Your breathing hitched and you could feel the squeezing, twisting grip around your throat. No no no not now. Not in front of the entire crowd. What would President Snow do to you if you broke down in front of an entire district? What would he do to Peeta?

“Thank you.” Peeta finished up his speech and a few people in the crowd reluctantly applauded. His eyes locked on your face, seeing a single tear fall down your cheek and he quickly led you off the stage.

He knew that District 9 would be the hardest for you. He still remembered the knife and the blood and the gore. You had killed her to save him. And now you had to live with that for the rest of your life.

The doors closed behind you and you immediately fell back against them, clutching your chest with your free hand. You ripped open the buttons on your high-necked dress, foolishly thinking that it would make it easier to breathe. The invisible hand had closed around your throat, knees crushing down your chest. When you closed your eyes, Clove was on top of you, choking the life out of you slowly, whispering all of the ways she was going to torment Peeta once you were gone.

“Let’s get her out of here.” Haymitch said, his expression a mix of worry and unease. He knew the image of a weak Victor would mean more problems that you weren’t ready to deal with. He remembered what it was like to be under the eye of the Capitol.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. Peeta, I can’t keep-” You gasped in between shaky breaths. Your vision was blurred at the sides and you were gripping the door to keep from collapsing. “I-I-”

“Shh, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now.” Peeta said, putting a hand on your cheek. “Can you walk to the train?” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to bring your hands away from the door. Peeta looked back at Haymitch and Effie for a moment before turning back to you. “I’m going to carry you, okay?” You must have nodded because he kissed your cheek before scooping you up in his arms.

Your hands released the door and instead latched onto the lapel of his jacket. Every part of you was shaking and the weight on your chest was only getting heavier.

“P-Peeta.” You cried, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’ve got you. We’re almost there.” He tried to hide the crack in his voice, trying to be the strong one for you, but seeing you like this split his heart in half. Haymitch and Effie huddled around you, trying to block the two of you from any prying eyes or cameras.

You didn’t notice when they finally got you onto the train. In your head, you were still on that stage, staring out at the little brothers of the girl you murdered. You thought for sure you were suffocating. Every breath was becoming harder and more painful than the last and the blackness at the edge of your vision was growing.

Peeta sat down, holding you in his lap and gently stroking his fingers through your hair.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You aren’t in the arena. You’re here with me.” He buried his face in your neck, gently pressing a kiss to the place between your shoulder and your spine. “You’re with me.”

“I’ll never leave that arena.” You whispered, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he even heard you.

This was far from the first attack you’d had since winning the games, but it was certainly the worst.

Haymitch and Effie just watched you with sympathetic eyes for a moment before leaving the two of you alone. Peeta held you tight until your breathing started to return to a steady pace. While your vision cleared, your body couldn't stop shaking and you couldn’t seem to pry your hands away from his jacket.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffed, trying to wipe panicked tears away on your sleeve.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have made you go out there with me. I knew what it was going to be like for you and I should have-”

“They wouldn’t have let you go out there alone.” You shook your head. “There’s no hiding from them, Peeta.” You repeated your words like an echo, over and over again. “I’ll never leave that arena.”

“Then I’m right there with you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and stood up, keeping you pressed against his chest. “Come on, we should try and get some sleep before we reach the next District.”

He carried you to your compartment and tucked you under the covers. He crawled up beside you without you having to ask. It had become an unsaid thing between the two of you. You kept the nightmares away as best as you could and when one of you woke up afraid, you weren’t alone.

-

Peeta had proposed for the cameras the day you left for the Victor’s tour, but it was all for show. The Capitol ate it up. When you really said yes, it was a week prior, just the two of you in the calming quiet in a meadow outside of the fence. It meant more that way.

Of course, Effie had picked out an extravagant ring for you to wear on stage and everything. It was gaudy and heavy and enough jewels to feed three districts for a month. But like the faked proposal, it wasn’t what was real.

You twisted the small bronze band around your finger, examining it in the faint light coming through the train windows. You had been awake for about an hour now, but Peeta’s peaceful sleep kept you from stirring. You rested in the warmth of his embrace and listened carefully to the slow, comforting sound of his heart beat.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Rise and shine you two.” Effie burst through the door and Peeta instantly went rigid beneath you, jolting up and pushing you behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but his expression frightened Effie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I-”

“No, Effie, it’s okay. Really.” He said apologetically, his expression softening. “We’ll be out for breakfast in a second.”

“Alright. Don’t be long. I know they want to do a feature on engaged life. A little romance might be just what you two need.” She gave you both a small smile before walking out, the door sliding shut behind her. Peeta laid back on his elbows, blowing out a low sigh.

“I didn’t mean to scare her. I just heard the door open and all I could think was that someone was here to take you away.” He pulled you back down to him and gently pressed his lips to yours. Truthfully, he’d been in the middle of a nightmare when he heard Effie enter. He thought that the images in his head were becoming real.

“She’ll be okay.” You concluded, drawing circles on his chest . “Effie is tougher than she seems. And she knows what we’ve been through.” Despite her bright and sometimes obnoxiously optimistic attitude, you knew that Effie wasn’t a mindless pawn from the Capitol. She saw what the games did to you. She saw the children behind the victors.

Breakfast was mostly had in a settled quiet. While neither of you said anything, Haymitch glanced over at you and you nodded to let him know that you were okay. It was that silent understanding that was the foundation of your relationship with your former mentor.

“They’re doing an update interview to see how the Capitol’s darling lovebirds have been enjoying their tour.” Haymitch said gruffly. “Which means lots of blushing and doe-eyes from you two.”

“That won’t be hard.” Peeta noted, looking over at you. He meant it sweetly, but something about it sent a shiver of dread down your spine. You ignored it, giving him a small smile.

“It’s comforting to know we won’t need to convince anybody of the whole hopeless romantic thing.” Haymitch made a face. “You two do a wonderful job of making me nauseous all on your own.” Effie smacked him with her rolled up napkin.

“I think it’s wonderful.” She mused dreamily. “How something like that could bring you together.”

You stiffened, keeping your eyes on your plate, pushing your eggs around mindlessly with your fork. Sometimes you forgot that this was still all a TV show for people to gawk at. You would be the star crossed lovers from District 12 for the rest of your lives. No amount of real emotion you felt for Peeta was going to erase that.

The other three seemed to notice your shift and finished their meal in silence. Haymitch excused himself to the dining car for likely the rest of the day and Effie left to work on the speeches you’d have to read in front of District 8. You hadn’t eaten a bite, opting to sip slowly at your coffee instead.

“Just a few more days and we’ll get to go home.” Peeta said, noticing your empty stare and untouched meal. You just nodded, not really hearing him.

-

“So tell us, Peeta, when did you know that you wanted to propose?” Caesar grinned into the camera.

“Honestly, I knew the moment we stepped out of the arena that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” Peeta gave your hand a squeeze and looked at you with complete and utter adoration. Caesar gasped in awe, eating up the fluffy romance that Peeta was perfect at portraying.

Is that all this is? The thought penetrated your mind before you could stop it. A performance? Is everything he says for the sake of the camera?

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive you for not including me in the moment, Peeta.” Caesar pouted. “But it was just so sweet I can’t stay mad at you!” The two laughed and you forced a loving smile. “Really, proposing in front of the bakery just before you left for the tour- why, it’s probably the most romantic thing I have ever seen.”

“I’m glad it came off that way, because I was a nervous wreck!” Peeta exclaimed and they laughed again. You had to admire his acting ability. Maybe that’s what scared you so much.

He’s just performing. Is he performing with you?

“I think we all want to know,” Caesar beamed, turning his attention to you, “what was going through your head, Y/N? When Peeta got down on one knee?”

You pushed any doubt from your head and just focused on everything you knew was real. “Honestly, Caesar, I can’t think of a happier moment in my life. I never knew what I was missing until we found each other.”

“Don’t these two just make you believe in love, Claudius?” He gushed to his costar. “We’ll let the two of you get back to your tour, but I can’t say how excited we are to have you all to ourselves here in the Capitol.”

“We can’t wait.” Peeta grinned. You both smiled broadly, waiting for the little red recording light to turn off. As soon as the cameras were gone, Peeta lifted your hand up to his lips. “That went well.” He muttered against the skin of your palm.

“Yeah. I think they definitely believe that we’re the perfect couple.” You hadn’t meant to say it so bitterly, but as soon as the words left your mouth, Peeta’s expression changed.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes were different, the charisma that was there with Caesar was gone. His worry seemed to stem from something real, but you just couldn’t convince yourself that it was.

“Nothing.” None of this is real. It’s all just the games. What if you’re still in the arena? What if this is all in your head? You broke away from him, trying to hide the panic growing and growing inside you until it was all you could feel. You could hear him saying your name, but it sounded garbled and far away, like he was whispering in the rain.

What seized you now was unlike you’d ever felt before. Not only was it the dark panic that blurred your vision and tightened your throat until you couldn’t breathe- it was a complete disconnect from reality. It was like you were trapped inside one of their screens and you were banging on the glass, trying to get out.

-

You didn’t realize you had fainted until you woke up in Peeta’s arms. His was sitting up, cradling you in his lap like he had before, only now you were in your room and you had a blanket draped around your shoulders. You jerked away, your mind still terrified that even this wasn’t real.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“This isn’t real. None of this is real.” You whispered in a panic, still trying to push away from him. This was the Capitol. They were in your head. “You aren’t real.” As hard as you shoved against him, his strong arms were locked around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you closer.

“I’m right here. I’m real. Just breathe. Come on, stay with me.” While his voice was soothing, your vision was still blurred with hot tears.

“We can never escape this. Every second of our lives belongs to them. Nothing is real. It’s all theirs.”

Peeta pulled away, taking your hand in his. He slid the bronze ring off your finger and held it up.

“This is ours. It’s not Snow’s, it’s not the Capitol’s, it’s ours. It’s real and it’s ours.” He put the ring back on and moved your hand to his chest. You could feel his heart beating beneath your fingertips. “I’m real,” He looked at you with a gentle and yet intense love, “and I am completely yours.”

You wiped away your tears and laid a hand on his cheek. “Peeta-”

“And no matter the nightmare, no matter the fear, or when your mind takes you back to the games, just remember I will always be there with you.”

He pulled you back to him and the two of you remained- away from the cameras and away from the Capitol. At least for now, you weren’t victors. You were a boy and a girl who had saved each other.

[thishintoflove]

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

[yoditorian]

close to what

frankie morales/reader

as part of @din-damn-djarin‘s birthday song challenge, i picked dancing under red skies by dermot kennedy. it’s a favourite song of mine, i think it’s beautiful, and i felt like it fit this idea i’ve had swirling around for a little bit. this fic is extremely personal to me but it’s also not pretty. i don’t want to romanticise addiction or use it as a plot device, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

the support group and hospital drop-off box is drawn directly from my own experience. my inbox and ask box are always open if you need to talk, but i am by no means a professional. if you are struggling with themes of this fic a quick internet search should help you find resources local to you 💛

main masterlist

word count: 3.2k // warnings: addiction, PTSD, nightmares (inc. death mentions), recovery and relapse, therapy mentions, hospital mention, references to past substance abuse, implied reader is in addiction recovery, swears probably, ‘they’ as a pronoun in reference to the reader

Your ringtone is obnoxiously loud in the darkness of your bedroom but at least that means you don’t have to worry about where it is, reaching out blindly towards your nightstand where it blares by your head.

“You’re from the group thing, right? He’s mentioned you a few times.”

You don’t recognise the voice on the other end, maybe you should have checked who it was before answering. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second and glance at the time first, 4:03am. No call at four in the morning can involve good news. But it’s the name on the screen that has you wide awake in a split second: Frankie. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, putting whoever it is on speaker while you fumble for the lamp on your bedside table. An old sweater hangs over your bedpost, the logo of a sports team you’ve never heard of cracked and faded beyond recognition, and you tug it over your head in a panic.

“I don’t know, he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I just- he won’t come out. He won’t listen to me, he always listens to me.”

There’s a stifled something and a quiet knock. But no sound from Frankie, just the shaking sigh of the man you’re speaking to. He tells you his name quietly, Santiago, and you remember Frankie mentioning his oldest friend. An image pops up in your mind as you wrestle your jeans on, a fuzzy picture on Frankie’s phone screen, passed to you over the sticky table in a diner, of two men standing knee-deep in a river. Soaked to the bone but grinning ear to ear. Pope’s got him, if no one else has. That’s what he told you.

You stay on the phone with Santiago on the drive over, convincing yourself it's out of concern for him instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach. Frankie still makes no sound in the bathroom, the door stays locked, and you try not to think too hard before you have all the facts.

The Santiago that meets you at Frankie’s front door is a far cry from the man in the photograph. He looks exhausted, on the verge of tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not faring much better. 

“Last door,” He breathes, “Down the hall.”

You follow his instructions, finding the only closed door in the hallway and tapping lightly on the painted wood. Listening for a moment, you can just barely hear a shuddering breath. That’s better than nothing, at least it means he’s alive.

“Frankie?” You try, praying that he’ll relent when he realises it’s you. Santiago stands at the other end of the hall, wringing his hands together, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he whispers frantically into it. He barely catches himself from crashing to his knees when the bathroom door clicks softly. 

“Can I come in?” You have to ask him. All this has to be on his terms, he has to set the boundaries. Anything less than that is dangerous, you won’t risk him hurting himself. 

He says nothing, but the door pulls back just a fraction of an inch and that’s all the confirmation you need. You push the door open enough to slip inside and shut it softly behind you again. 

Frankie’s sitting on the floor, his back against the bathtub and legs stretched out in front of him. A quick look over proves he’s not hurt, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief if it weren’t for the little ziplock bag between his knees. 

He’s very pointedly not looking at it, or you, instead choosing to glare at a spot on the ceiling. You maneuver yourself to sit opposite him, against the wall with your knees tucked up against your chest. 

“Did you take any?” It almost feels wrong to break the silence that’s settled over the two of you.

You wait with bated breath until he gives the slightest shake of his head. He hasn’t touched it. Okay, that’s the worst case scenario eliminated. It’s enough to have your heart rate calm a little, it doesn’t make things better by a long shot, but at least it’s something.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask, picking at a loose thread of your sweatshirt. 

His chin falls to his chest and he pulls his knees up towards him and you’re sure this is it. This is where you lose him. But Frankie takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, he musters the courage to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t see pity, not like he thought he would. You don’t look disappointed or upset or angry, the way he was so sure you would be. You’re just waiting, letting him take the reins, he stores the knowledge away. In case he ever needs to dig you out.

“I don’t know what happened,” God, his throat is scratchy, “I just- I had a bad night. And I called Pope, and then-”

He breaks off with a heart-wrenching crack in his voice and you can’t help but reach out to him. Just a hand, stretched across the space between you. He holds onto you like his life depends on it.

“And I remembered I kept a bag on top of the medicine cabinet. And now you’re here.”

It’s to the point, simple, methodical. Like he’s back in the army and giving a flight report to his CO. You wonder if that’s what he needs right now, maybe spelling things out is better for him than asking what it is you can do. It’s easier, sometimes, when someone just tells you what’s going to happen. 

“Do you want to take it?” You have to know, for his safety if nothing else. You need him to tell you if there’s going to be a problem, if there’s a risk and he needs more than you. He knows you’re not going to walk out the door and give up on him if he says yes. 

It has to be his choice. 

Frankie shakes his head again, a grimace on his face like he feels sick at the thought, and you squeeze his fingers between yours. You need him to understand that he hasn’t failed, that he won’t fail. Tripping up and falling behind are part of the process, and you know he knows that. He’s been going to the support group longer than you have. Recovery is messy and far from simple. He’ll get back to where he was, one bad night isn’t going to ruin him.

Your lower back aches from the hardwood floor but you show no sign of discomfort, waiting until Frankie is completely back in his own head before you make any move to suggest where to go from here.

“There’s a drop-off box at the hospital, you fancy a drive?” You keep his hand in yours, terrified that he’ll slip back if you let go. 

God, he hates this. He hates that he can’t even look at you for more than a few seconds without his resolve threatening to crack. He hates that you’re not angry at him for any of it, not even a little bit. He deserves anger, he deserves your disappointment.

You were never supposed to see him like this, that much he’s sure of. Or, he convinced himself of at least. He’s been going to group and therapy and he’s kept up his tests and he’s stayed far away from anything that might even tempt him a little. And that was before you even showed up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a nervous smile and eyes the size of dinner plates. But he’d been by your side in a flash, asking you to give him a hand setting up chairs, and that was it. 

Frankie knows the ins and outs of recovery, you don’t need to tell him that he hasn’t failed. But he can’t help feeling like maybe he never really started in the first place, leaving that one bag out of sight. Life had been busy enough to preoccupy him, between everything else he kind of just forgot about it. He let it gather dust and it should have stayed that way. 

And then, it felt like he was falling out of the sky. And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Nightmares aren’t an unusual thing for him, or for any former soldier, but the memories they stem from seem to warp into something else entirely when he’s too tired to pay attention. Sometimes he’s alone in the helicopter, sometimes he’s with family, sometimes strangers. It was his team tonight. A vivid memory of a time he almost couldn’t save them. 

The crash never happened, he knows that. He’d righted the bird and got his team to safety the way he knew he could. But that knowledge doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, from drowning him in fear when he imagines what might have happened had he not done his job. If they’d crashed in the middle of nowhere. Would any of them have died on impact? Would they have been left stranded, wounded and starving? He’s woken up in a cold sweat too many times, each ending more horrific than the last.

Tonight had been the last straw. And Frankie had found himself in his bathroom, patting along the top of the medicine cabinet, before he could even realise what he was doing.

He’d called Santiago, still blinking back images of his best friend’s bloody and lifeless face, just to hear his voice initially. But he hadn’t managed to explain anything past the sob lodged in his throat, and he’d heard the jingle of car keys before he could tell Pope he didn’t need to drive all the way across town at two o’clock in the morning. 

At least nobody had called Will, because that would have meant that Benny would have shown up too. Maybe even Tom would have dragged his ass out of bed. Frankie didn’t need to disappoint all his friends in one night. 

Santiago is bound by friendship, best and oldest, he’d never say anything if Frankie didn’t want him to. And you, you’re bound by- well, you’re not really bound by anything. You could get up off of his bathroom floor right now and never look back. Get to your feet, and walk right out of his life. But you won’t. 

He knows you won’t because you’re still holding tight to his hand, even though the angle and distance has you leaned forward awkwardly. You’re still looking at him like you believe in him, even though he almost threw everything he’s worked so hard for down the drain. You’re here, despite everything. Despite only knowing him for a couple of months, despite getting a call from a stranger at four in the morning, despite everything he’s done to be undeserving of anything good or kind in his life.

You’re here, still, looking at him like he can do anything. That’s something. That’s enough for him.

“I don’t even want to look at it.” Frankie croaks, and keeps his eyes steady on yours even as his voice wavers. To anybody else, he might sound unsure. But you hear that steely determination underneath it all, the same one that’s convinced you to keep moving any time you’ve faltered. 

“That’s okay, I can take it.” You waste no time in snapping the little bag up in your free hand, and stuffing it in your back pocket. A phone rings in the hall, hurriedly answered, and you suddenly remember the other man waiting outside.

Frankie’s still looking at you, dark eyes unsteady and unsure, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him. He comes back to you, slowly, and takes a few shaky breaths. 

“Do you want him to come with, or?” You leave the question open. His choice, entirely, the way everything tonight has been. He lost control for a moment and fought, tooth and nail, to get it back. You can’t take any decision about this away from him.

He shakes his head, loosens his grip on your hand, and asks you to give him a minute. It hurts, leaving him alone on his bathroom floor. But he’ll come out, you’re certain of that much.

“Is-” Santiago cuts himself off when you emerge and pull the door just shy of closed behind you, like he’s afraid to even ask the question. Let alone know the answer.

“He’ll be okay. We’re taking his last stash to the drop-off box.”

Santiago’s whole body sags in relief, and you can’t help but lean against the wall for support yourself. The little ziplock bag in your back pocket is a weight you don’t think you’ll ever stop carrying, even after it’s disposed of, but you’re more than happy to bear it when Frankie steps out of the bathroom and Santiago tugs him into a hug that almost breaks his ribs.

It’s easy to forget, when you get that low, that you have people. But they’ll always show up when you call. 

You leave them to their moment and shuffle back through to the main room, your car keys and phone left on the kitchen counter where you’d abandoned them. You’re not sure why you bother checking your messages, maybe it’s to keep your hands busy, maybe it’s so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on Frankie and his oldest friend. They speak in hushed tones as your thumbnail scratches back and forth across a crack in your screen protector. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie’s voice is rough, muffled into the other man’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” Pope squeezes him just a little tighter before pulling back far enough to look him in the eye, “Be sorry you didn’t tell me they were so pretty.” 

It should feel odd, the way that he speaks as though the last few hours haven’t even happened. How a simple, harmless joke is all it takes for Frankie’s heart to settle. Pope doesn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him, 

“Didn’t I?” A shy, shaky smile settles on his features as Santiago stifles a yawn, “Crash here tonight, you’re not driving anywhere on no sleep.” 

Ever the caretaker, even in the wake of his worst moments. It’s a hard habit to break after all they’ve been through. Something tells Frankie, even as Pope relents and walks through to the living room to find a blanket and settle on the couch, he’ll still be awake once they get back. 

You’re quiet when he follows you out of his apartment, quiet as your footsteps echo in the stairwell, quiet when you cross the street to your car and unlock the doors. Part of him still worries that you’re disappointed, that you’re angry or upset or that he’s fucked up so bad that you’ve already decided to drop him home without a word and he’ll never hear from you again.

But another look at you out of the corner of his eye as you plug your seatbelt in disproves any other theory he might have. You’re quiet because you know that he doesn’t need you to talk, that he just needs you right here beside him so he can be brave enough to take the next step.

The radio is playing some acoustic, folky sounding song that neither of you have heard before, and it’s comforting to just sit and absorb the peace of the night as you drive. You’re conscious of Frankie’s eyes on you, although you’re sure he’s trying to be subtle about his staring. His seemingly unwavering attention does little to quiet the voice you’ve been hearing in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

He still can’t quite believe it. That you’d wake up, in the middle of the night, and haul ass across town for him. For him. Something about it somehow makes ribcage feel like it's about to burst and cave in at the same time. But now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the tiny baby crush he may or may not be developing on you. 

You don’t miss the way he tenses when you pull into the hospital parking lot, muscles locked so tight that a stiff breeze could shatter him into pieces. He turns to you when you say his name softly, and his eyes are wide with a terror so familiar that your heart breaks in your chest.

“I can’t do it.” He chokes the admission out like it’s poison, and in just four words you can hear every ounce of hatred he has for himself in this moment. He thinks he’s weak, because he can’t even throw a little plastic bag into a hatch, because he can’t even bring himself to move. 

“That’s okay. Did you want me to?” You offer, it’s plain as day on his face that he doesn’t know how to ask you.

You’re grateful for the unusual warmth of the night when you step out of the car, comfortable enough not to need a jacket at this time of day. The sky is just starting to turn that odd shade of blue-grey, the barest hints of dawn on the horizon. Another day, just like tomorrow will be. Sometimes, the next day is all you can hope for. 

The metal handle is cold when you wrap your hand around it and haul the creaky hatch open, you fish the bag out of your pocket and don’t even pay it a second glance as you set it on the little shelf and let the door snap shut. Gone. But you can still feel it eating away at you, you can still see how it weighs on Frankie’s shoulders when you shuffle across the concrete and climb back into the car.

He says he’s not hungry when you ask, and you don’t push it. He’ll eat when he’s ready. He’ll live when he’s ready. You don’t mind, you’ve got a better idea anyway.

“Where are we going?” He asks when he realises you’re heading completely the opposite way from his apartment building. You shoot him a smile, turning your eyes back to the road before you can read too far into the look in his eyes. 

The beach is dead, just like you thought it would be, and you’re grateful as you shut off the engine. 

“We are gonna throw rocks in the sea.” You say and part of him wonders if you’ve always known exactly what he needs. 

If someone had told Frankie, twenty four hours ago, that he’d be skipping pebbles on the sea with you at sunrise, he would have laughed. But here he is, flecks of the rising sun on the sea reflecting on your face, and you’re smiling at him like that as a breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this is all he needs to find the courage to stare right down the barrel of his faults. He doesn’t know how you do it, maybe you can do it together.

You reach over and take his hand when you spot the lone tear tracking its way down his cheek. 

“You’ll be alright. I promise.” You smile just as the sun finally breaks fully over the horizon, sky streaked with orange and pink. 

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie can’t help but smile back.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

[wh6res]

taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation 

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life. 

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age. 

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more. 

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else. 

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance. 

assurance that he won’t get hurt. 

an assurance of faithfulness. 

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets. 

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky. 

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that. 

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate. 

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered. 

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump. 

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there. 

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil. 

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter. 

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer. 

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it. 

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company. 

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high. 

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired. 

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan. 

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine. 

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms. 

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!” 

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away. 

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question. 

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway. 

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt. 

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care. 

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…” 

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.” 

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people. 

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off. 

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle. 

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar. 

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you. 

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created. 

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing. 

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face. 

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places. 

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them. 

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?” 

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time. 

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already. 

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine. 

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining. 

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements. 

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort. 

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water. 

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you. 

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore. 

[bytheangell]

Married to the Dark

( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Vampire!Alec, Rated Teen, No Archive Warnings) (Read on AO3)

To say what follows Alec's suggestion of Simon turning him into a vampire is a ‘discussion’ is being generous. Everyone speaks at once, an overwhelming cacophony of voices trying to be heard over each other. When they do unify to take turns it’s only to shout at Alec one at a time, to tell him over and over that he’s being drastic.

Like Izzy hadn’t almost been de-runed to protect Meliorn and save his life.

Like Jace and Clary haven’t put themselves in the position to die for each other more than once.

Like drastic measures for the ones they care about isn’t par for the course around here.

“Listen, Alec. I know you love Magnus. We all do, and so does he. No one expects you to do this just because you can. He’d never ask you to give up your life,” Jace argues.

“And I’d never ask him to give up his,” Alec counters, immediately on the defensive. “It hasn’t stopped him before.”

“At least take a night to think it over. We’ll reach out to every contact we have, every resource. Give us the chance to find another way,” Izzy pleads.

Alec’s tired. He’s so tired; tired of being afraid, tired of regretting the decisions that he’s made, tired of regretting the decisions he didn’t make, tired of constantly being at odds with everyone around him. He’s just tired. Too tired to argue any longer or shout back, even though he feels like he should be screaming right now, as loud and demanding as the thoughts in his head are.

Instead, he sighs.

“Fine. We’ll reconvene in the morning.” Alec chooses his words carefully, not agreeing to wait. He already knows that the moment they leave he’s going to march himself over to the Dumort to see if he can’t get some other vampire to agree in Simon’s place. The sooner he can get the others out of his hair, the sooner he can get started - he’ll need a few hours to set his affairs in order in case things go wrong.

Hell, he needs his affairs in order in case things go right. Because worst-case scenario he dies permanently, but best-case scenario he dies temporarily and comes back a vampire, and he needs to make sure things are in order for Izzy and Jace to take over in his stead, for the Downworlder Council to still run without him to helm it, and a number of other bureaucratic red tape issues that come to mind.

The group disperses, each of them giving Alec parting glances full of concern, and he does his best not to meet them with looks of bitterness and defiance. He knows they’re trying to look out for him but they don’t know what’s best for him. They don’t understand the desperation in his soul that tears him apart more and more every second he fails to save Magnus.

Alec knows what he needs to do. As the people closest to him leave the room Alec thanks them for being here for him, he thanks them for understanding, though they don’t realize he’s saying it in the hopes of them understanding what he’s about to do next. He hugs each of them goodbye - possibly for the last time - and tries not to show the sense of potential finality he feels with each lingering embrace.

“Alec?”

Simon’s voice startles Alec, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize the vampire hadn’t followed the others out of the room.

“Listen, I’m sorry I put you on the spot back there,” Alec says, coupling the words with another heavy sigh. Simon hates blood, and his own death and rebirth are still fresh enough to probably be pretty traumatizing to relive like this. And that’s outside of asking Simon to not only break the accords but to stand back and passively watch him die… it was impulsive and entirely out of line. An ‘I’m sorry’ really doesn’t cut it, Alec realizes, but he doesn’t have time for much else just then. “That was… it’s a lot.”

“You’re telling me,” Simon says, with a laugh that doesn’t quite sound genuine. A moment later the forced smile fades entirely into a deep-set frown. “You’re doing this tonight, aren’t you?”

“Simon…”

“Don’t lie to me, Alec. Those were goodbyes.” Simon doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Yeah, they were,” Alec answers anyway. “Obviously, I don’t expect you to be the one to do it. I’ll find someone else, just don’t tell the others.”

“That’s the thing,” Simon says. “I don’t want to, but I also don’t want you to go to anyone else. If you are going to go through with this… I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Alec feels hopeful for the first time since Magnus left.

“But you need to really think about it because this isn’t some solution you run with on a whim. Most of the vampires I know never would’ve chosen this life. I know I wouldn’t have.” It’s strange to hear Simon so serious.

They haven’t talked about Clary’s decision to bury Simon as a group since it happened. Alec assumes he and Clary have, but Alec isn’t particularly close with either of them. Instead of finding Simon’s doubt that he’s thought this through annoying, Alec takes the concern to heart.

“Do you regret it?” Alec asks. This isn’t a conversation he particularly wants to have, but it’s one he knows he should before he finalizes the decision he’s already entirely set on in his mind.

“Sometimes,” Simon admits. “Sometimes I’m pretty sure I won’t last long after all of you… after you’re gone.”

There’s a heavy pause, and Alec wonders if Simon’s ever told that to anyone else before.

“I’m not telling you not to do it. I just… I want to make sure you really think about it. I guess that’s my duty as the resident immortal while Magnus is gone.” Simon manages a half-hearted huff of a laugh.

Alec nods. “I know what it means for me. And for my family. I don’t even know if Magnus would stay with me afterward if I did it… if it works. That’s how I know I’m serious about it - because I’d still do it to save him, even if he leaves me for it.”

Alec knows the truth of it. He doesn’t have any rose-colored mental images of riding off into the immortal sunset with Magnus on the other side of all this. But at least the choice is his alone this time, unlike the deal with Asmodeus - whatever happens to the two of them afterward is Magnus’ decision, for better or worse.

One thing is still the same: he’d do anything to save Magnus, even if he loses him in the fallout.

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same to save Clary. Or your sister.” Alec challenges, desperate for Simon to see his side of this, to agree without a fight, and maybe even help him convince the others that it’s a risk worth taking.

“Of course I would,” Simon agrees, after only a moment’s pause.

“What about Izzy?” Alec knows he has no right to ask, especially not now, but he can’t help it.

Simon tenses at the question.

“I know the two of you are… new. But if I do this and things go sideways… look out for her for me, will you? Promise you’ll be there for her, and Jace, too?”

“You want me to kiss Jace?” Simon asks, and though he tries to force the light tone of a joke it’s tainted by the weight of their topic of conversation.

Alec rolls his eyes.

“I’d say that I would, but if you die and I’m the one who killed you, I can’t imagine I’m going to be much comfort,” Simon points out.

“Fair,” Alec agrees, once more aware of the weight of what he’s asking Simon to do and the position he’s putting the vampire in. “But try anyway?”

Simon nods in silent agreement.

“Listen, Simon. I get it. The concept of immortality, the idea of abandoning the life I was raised in by turning myself into one of the things I was raised to hunt? It fucking terrifies me. But if it’s my only way into Edom before it’s too late to save Magnus then I’m going to do it. Maybe it’s foolish and reckless, and the biggest mistake of my life - but it’s mine to make.”

Alec watches Simon shuffle around a bit, bouncing his weight from one foot to the other while avoiding Alec’s gaze. After bouncing back and forth between desperate pleading and trying to force himself to stay calm enough to hold a rational conversation about his own life and potential immortality, Alec knows there’s a lot here to process. This isn’t a decision to be made lightly for either of them.

“Alright,” Simon says finally, more to himself than to Alec. “Fuck. Alright. We’re doing this. Let’s do this.”

Alec’s heartbeat doubles in speed at those words, the anticipation and anxiety ramping up immediately. They’re really going to do this. He’s really going to do this.

“Give me… two hours. I have some things I need to do first,” Alec says.

“Sure. That gives me time to get what I need, too,” Simon says. Alec doesn’t ask what he’s going to say to get the blood bags Alec will need when (if) he turns. He has enough to worry about on his end of things.

Simon’s nearly to the door when he stops and faces Alec again. “And to answer your question… I would. I’d do it to save Izzy’s life, too.”

Alec smiles at that, his first genuine smile since everything fell apart.

Izzy will have Simon. Jace has Clary. Maryse has Luke. Max has all of them. Alec’s decision sits a little easier knowing those who would feel his loss the hardest would be taken care of in his absence, should things go wrong.

Something in Alec settles with that reassurance, and he feels a renewed confidence that things are falling into place because this is the right call. He can do this. He has to do this because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

So Alec gets to work, comforted by the knowledge that everyone he cares about has a person who cares about them just as much, someone he’s certain would protect them at any cost.

Alec has one, too - and now it’s time to go save him.

[shotofire]

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

•Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

-

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were  interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.



[tmngoose]

Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

[sweeethinny]

I always thought about it, and now that I'm pretending to study so I don't have to help with the change, I came to write

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

James was completing fifteen months, and Ginny was a complete mess.

It all started a few weeks ago, when she, the baby and Teddy were walking down Diagon Alley, and a woman stopped to talk to them, talk about how Harry was a great wizard and all those things, but she had also commented, about how James looked like him - and Ginny knew, the child had come out of her, after all - mostly about him being so close to turning 15 months old, the same age Harry was when it all happened.

"Isn't it disturbing to think he was this small?"

So, Ginny then started having nightmares.

Of course she knew that Harry was a baby, but then, look at her little son, who cried every time he was away for five minutes from her or Harry, who was learning to walk, to mumble ''mommy'' ''daddy'', and who still slept among them because it was safer, was disturbing.

She hadn't spoken to Harry, there was no need, her concern was stupid when spoken out loud, so she made sure to keep it to herself.

And when that week came, when it arrived that on Friday her son would be 15 months old, Ginny was plagued with nightmares and more nightmares from Death Eaters entering her home and killing her and Harry, leaving James orphaned. Or, of them killing James, and she being able to do nothing but see that little dead infant body. Sometimes she dreamed of Harry and James dying, the scene of her husband in Hagrid's arms seeming to return in an eternal loop, but this time, their son was together.

Every night she woke up five, six times to see if the little one was still with them, sleeping widely in the middle, with his feet on Harry's shoulders and his head nestled in her, so she could breathe easy and kiss his fine dark hair, smelling the child, before going back to sleep to have another nightmare and do it all over again.

At dawn from Thursday to Friday, she was a nervous wreck.

Harry had gone on a mission and said that he would arrive that day, which had not happened. In all the years together, Ginny had learned to control that anxiety and the fear of losing her husband, it was his job, and you would think the Boy Who Lived would take a vacation from this life of hunting for evil, but it was Harry, and she knew it when fell in love for him. But sometimes it still hurt, especially when she wanted him there to feel safe.

After an awake night, walking back and forth (in their room, where James was sleeping), Ginny wanted to curse that old woman. Who could say that? Tell a mother about her son being the age of the boy who almost died? Especially when that boy was your husband AND father of your son? No. Ginny hated her, completely.

Harry, at least, had arrived home, a little after nine, without much injury and apologizing for the delay.

''They're all idiots,'' he said as he comfortably rocked his son on his hip, seeming not to even realize he was doing it, letting the boy play with his hair and beard ''It seemed like there was just me and Ron, the rest barely made a difference’'

''He missed you'' Ginny smiled awkwardly, the lump in her throat forming as she prepared lunch

''I missed you too, Jamesy'' She didn't need to look to know that he was kissing the boy's forehead ''And you too'' Harry kissed the top of the redhead's head, causing her to smile ''There's something wrong? You didn't say much''

''Just tired, James moved a lot this night'' She lied (or omitted, at least the part that she didn't sleep at all)

That day had everything to be just another ordinary day at the Potter's house, but when you want to find reasons to make sense of your head, you see what you want.

That's why she almost had a heart attack when she saw her son on Harry's lap while they were flying (he wasn't even flying high and James was tied to Harry's abdomen), or when the boy fell out of bed, there was given a scratch on the forehead, yes, right on the forehead, and Ginny's mind was playing tricks right after.

''Gin, he's fine, it was just a scratch from nothing. Aren't you, Jamie?'' Harry sat him on the counter, rubbing the ointment on his son's bruise, as careful as ever, while the boy blinked greedily at his father, seeming to pay all his attention to it. His eyes were swollen from crying and his pink cheeks made her want to cry together, which was absurdly pathetic.

''I should have known this was going to happen, the bed is too high, I shouldn't have left him alone'' Alone. Imagine her child alone in the world, helpless (because in her head, her family could not be there to help for some stupid reason), suffering and being beaten up like Harry, having to sacrifice his life for peace.

"Gin?" Harry looked at her as if he knew what was going on in her head, as usual. "James is fine, and here. We're all here.'' She took her son in her arms, hugging the boy a little too tightly, wanting that warmth in her chest never to go away.

''I know, I was just worried'' She looked at the boy, who still blinked a little sadly, and filled him with kisses, taking a deep breath of his scent and trying to keep his face in memory, before taking him to the kitchen, with the excuse that she was hungry.

Later, however, it was the worst hour of her life, by far.

''James is gone'' She spoke almost in a panic to her husband's face at the fireplace, he had returned to the Ministry a few hours ago, just to sign some papers, and then, when she relaxed and left the little one playing in the living room while tidying up the house, Ginny lost him ''I can't find him anywhere, Harry'' Her eyes prickled, her head creating the worst scenarios, where everyone ended up with a lot of blood and death

''What do you mean?'' Harry moved, seeming to look for something ''Don't get out of here, I'm going'' And then he was gone, and she started screaming around the house, running to look for him again, opening the doors, calling him, going to the garden, to the street, and still, not being able to find anything.

''James!'' She had started to cry, panicking in the yard, opening the broom shed only to find it in the same way as before, with the usual mess.

"Gin!" Harry appeared, white and alarmed as an Auror/Dad should be, wand in hand and looking like a hurricane "What happened?"

''He was playing in the living room, and then ... '' She sobbed, shaking ''I called him, called, called, and when I went to see there was nothing else there. He was gone'' Harry dragged her into the house again, looking ready to hunt whoever was needed.

''He mustn't have gone far, he's just a baby''

''IT'S EXACTLY THAT!'' She exploded ''Someone may have caught him! Or killed! He can be-- ''

'' - He's not, Ginny! '' Harry squeezed her shoulders as if to keep her still ''He's not. We'll find him.''

They went back to looking, Ginny was holding back the crying with all her claw, and when they were about to summon Aurors and the family to help, Harry stopped in the middle of the room, looking on for something

"Did you hear that?" She denied, sobbing silently at the image of her son dead in a ditch. But Harry, seeming to test Auror's years, was centered, his wand drawn and still watching for something. He reached out to open one of the tallest doors in the living room closet, where he usually kept books and things that were uninteresting, sighing when he saw his son sleeping with his blanket, as if nothing had happened. The man pulled the baby, causing him to wake up, and finally let the whole posture fall, sitting on the floor while holding the boy against his chest and breathing hard, letting some tears flow.

Ginny was not so calm, falling beside them and sobbing as she hugged him too, feeling all the tension of that week and the psychological exhaustion that had been, trembling as she stroked the boy's hair, who seemed scared by all that

''Never-Never do that again, James!'' Sobbed irritably ''Heavens, I thought I was going to die''

''He must have been tired of playing and thought it was the most peaceful place.. '' Harry squeezed the boy even more, seeming to notice that his son had done magic for this, which caused a small smile on his face

''Mommy'' James raised his little hands to her face, looking worried that she would cry so hard, then tried to wipe the river of tears that flowed from Ginny's eyes, in the purest form of affection.

''Sorry honey, you scared me'' She sighed, smiling sadly

After all that nervousness, when Harry felt well to be able to let his son return to his toys, the two looked at each other

''Teddy told me what that woman had said'' Ginny could play dumb, but it was almost impossible

''He's so small Harry'' And without realizing it, she started crying again, rubbing her husband's face

''I know, it's also scary for me to see this, but there's nothing to fear Gin, I'm here, alive, and James too'' She nodded, being hugged and comforted by him ''Nothing is going to happen to him. Nothing''

''That old idiot, who does she think she is to say something like that, to me?'' Harry laughed, kissing her head as they both looked at their son ''He did magic ... we should give some gift to him?'' She asked.

''I don't know, do you think? I didn't get anything good when I did it the first time.'' Ginny rolled her eyes, annoyed that he was talking about it right now

''Don't talk about it when I just had the worst experience of my life. I forbid you'' She said, listen to Harry laughing, still with his chin resting on the top of her head, hugging her protectively

''You could have told me''

''That was stupid'' She shrugged, finally calming down

''But when it disturbs your sleep, you tell me'' One more tender kiss '’I was also afraid, if you want to know .. But I think our similarities end there. James will have parents who embarrass him in front of his friends, and his girlfriend ... ''

''..Or boyfriend''

''Yes. We'll be here, Gin. Safe and sound. I promise.'' As if feeling his parents feelings, James walked, still a little unsure, to them, smiling and throwing himself in the middle, a little jealous that he wasn't getting attention.

She looked at Harry too, who was doing some foolish thing for James to burst out laughing, his green eyes shining as he looked at his son, looking free of any worries that might take their sleep.

As the little boy grabbed his father's glasses and put them on his face, staggering around the room and making them both laugh, Ginny felt safe, happy that that little bundle was growing at full throttle.

They were safe, and James would have his parents to embarrass him and participate in important and ordinary moments, for many years.

[our-heroes-rise]

slip of the tongue

pairing: todoroki x bilingual! reader

request:  Hi, I want to request a scenario for Todoroki. It’s about a reader who is actually his gf, but she talks portuguese as maternal language. When she got nervous, she start to panic in Portuguese, and she’s nervous to meet Shoto’s mom. How he will help her( something like that). I hope you like this idea. 🇧🇷🇧🇷✌🏻✌🏻

hero name: @todoroki-vivian

a/n: hi, lovely! omg yes, you can aboslutely have a todoroki request, i adore this boy. and i loved this idea so much! it was so darn cute. as someone of mixed race who grew up with a heavily hispanic family i think it’s always fun to imagine bringing home one of the bnha boys/girls. seeing how they’d react to be introduced to the sort of music, food, and p a r t i e s that i grew up with. i’d be completely useless teaching them any g o o d spanish though cause my mother never taught me when i was a kid :’). i only know a couple of phrases and the bad words lol. i don’t touch on any of that here because i’m not too familiar with portuguese culture and i don’t want to offend anyone by getting something wrong because i am uneducated on the subjectttt. there’s only like two words of real portuguese in here and they are from google translate because i wasn’t sure what the difference was between the spanish pronunciation and the portuguese pronunciation. OKAY after that whole thing i hope you enjoy this little scenario, i had a lot of fun writing it and it was super duper cute. thanks for requesting baby hero!

word count: 1,717

warnings: none! this is all fluff :)

Your knee bounced with the subtle rocking of the train cart, heel occasionally tapping against the floor when the wheels ran over a bump in the tracks. No matter how hard you tried, no amount of slow deep breaths or mental reminders that everything would be fine, it would go well, would calm the ever growing bundle of nerves buzzing within the pit of your stomach. It crawled beneath your skin, flinching at the tips of your fingers which picked at the worn plastic seal of your seat, pinched at your bottom lip.

You watched the blur of winter barren trees whirl past the window, not really watching at all, thinking of every way not to mess up this very important day. This very, very important day on which absolutely nothing could go wrong because this was - it was his -

A comforting warmth pressed into your shoulder, calloused fingers wiggling their way through the gaps between yours, bringing a halt to your incessant fidgeting. Striking blue and grey find your gaze, softened by the unspoken question of concern knotting his brows.

What’s wrong?

“I’m just - It’s dumb, really,” you laugh softly, able to recognize how terribly ridiculous you would sound now that the words sit at the front of your mind. “I’m just overthinking things. I’m okay.” For extra reassurance, you give his hand a small squeeze, offering a smile.

Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to buy it.

“You’re not okay if something’s worrying you,” Todoroki says, head dipping to catch your eyes as you try to look away to hide your apprehension. “It might help if you talk about it.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth once again, a soft sigh blows through nose, and you lean further into his shoulder, grateful for the gentle heat that bleeds through your jacket sleeve, soothing your nerves. You drop your attention to the spot where your fingers are now intertwined sitting atop his thigh, his thumb tracing over the ridges of your knuckles, saying he’s content to wait for as long as you need.

Well, at least until the arrival of your last stop where you would inevitably have to step off the train and face the anxiety tearing through your head.

It’ll be fine, stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine, it will be fine, it will be -

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You blurt suddenly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as the eyes of a few curious strangers flicker over to you. Your face sinks further into the protective cocoon of your scarf.

His thumb pauses briefly before picking up its mindless pattern again. “What do you - ?”

“I - I mean, what if I say something wrong and end up sounding really stupid in front of her.” And the dam came crumbling down. “Your mother. The - like - the most important person in your life! I’d end up making a fool of myself in front of the most important person in your life. Then she might think ‘what’s Shoto even see in her? he could do so much better’. Which, you could, by the way. You could do worlds better but you’ve settled for me and sometimes I don’t really get it because - well - I’m me - “

“I don’t see a problem with that. I like you for you and if you are what settling is then I will gladly never settle anywhere else.”

“But what if she - “ your fingers tighten around him at the thought “- what if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for you? What if she thinks we should break up because she thinks I’m rude and annoying and uneducated?”

“Uhm. . . Y/n.”

“What if she thinks I’m a bad influence on you? I don’t want to make her hate me forever, that would be the worst feeling ever because I know she means so much to you.”

“Y/n. . .”

“That would just put so much strain on our relationship and I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about what happened, ever. You don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than that, Sho. I just - “

“Meu Amor.”

The name strikes a chord in your throat, catching you breathless, butterflies swooping in to replace the recoiling knot in your stomach. You whip your head around to find the corners of Todoroki’s lips pulling up in a small fond smile, eyes light with amusement. To begin with, Todoroki wasn’t big on pet names, preferring to use your given name, claiming it was sweeter than any silly nickname could be. Though throughout the seven and a half months you two had been together, he had referred to you with the occasional ‘love’ or ‘hon’. However, the number of times he had used that name could be counted on one hand.

Three. It was three times including right now.

He asked you how to say it while you were teaching him random phrases, goofing around in the middle of what was supposed to be a study session, the question being enough to make your face burn. His pronunciation had been rocky the first time, mouth working awkwardly around the words, throwing you into a fit of flustered giggles that had him pouting adorably at you, mumbling not to make fun of him for trying. But, now? Now his near perfect pronunciation left you wondering how many times he had practiced by himself. 

Meu Amor was the Portuguese phrase for My Love. His love. His love. 

“Y-Yeah?” It’s at that very moment that realize you have slipped out of your usual Japanese tongue, rolling through the tumbling hill syllables of your maternal language. “Oh, s-sorry. I. . . I did the thing again,” you mutter, flipping back to Japanese.

Todoroki huffs a short laugh that makes your heart flutter pleasantly as the sound reverberates through your own chest. “It’s okay, I think I got the gist of what you were saying. It’s cute when you do that, anyway.” He says the last part softly, meant for himself. You press your cheeks further into your scarf, hiding your own shy smile.

Todoroki takes a minute to speak, gazing at the same window you were just a moment ago, lost in thought. 

“Y/n,” he finally says. “Meu Amor, -” four times “- frankly, my mother could care less about who you are. I think you could introduce yourself as a high school drop out with a criminal record and her main concern would still be; do we make each other happy? Do you make me happy.”

You allow yourself to absorb the impact of his words.

“And. . . I make you happy?”

He shoots you an incredulous glance, then snorts when he sees you peaking earnestly above the edge of your scarf. “Irrevocably so. Do I make you happy?”

“It’s impossible for me to think about you without smiling.” You give him a bright cheeky grin when his cheeks flare with a noticeable shade of scarlet that crawls all the way up his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Good. Then that’s more than enough.” He squeezes your hand, pulling you closer into his side. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that she won’t absolutely adore you the same way I do once she meets you. If she doesn’t already, of course.”

The statement piques your curiosity and you arch one brow at him. “What do you mean if she doesn’t already? Have you. . . Told her about me already -- In your letters to her?”

“I thought you already knew that,” Todoroki says, frowning in confusion. “She’s always asking about you and how you’re doing. I was pretty sure I mentioned it before.”

“What the heck? Shoto you’ve never told me that!”

“Oh.”

“So - So then she’s okay with us being together?”

“I think she’s more than okay with it,” he replies, his quiet smile returning. “It’s possible that she’s more excited than I am for you to meet her, which would be saying something.”

“That would have been nice to know before I rambled off the entire Portuguese dictionary to the whole train,” you grumble, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, but it sounds like he’s trying to suppress another laugh. And you really can’t stay upset with him for long.

Rough fingertips push gently at the tips of yours to splay your palm out over his, pressing them together. Lightly you run your nails down the long runs of his fingers, memorizing every bump, scratch, and scar, sweeping your forefinger along the wrinkle of his lifeline, then across his heart line. This - the way you were touching him - may not seem like much at all to anyone else, but it was worth worlds to you. It had taken Todoroki months to comfortably hold your hand, even longer while in public, then some to kiss you for the first time. PDA wasn’t what bothered him (not entirely, at least), it was the displays of affection part. Because of the way he grew up, physical affection was a foreign concept, often leaving him lost and a mess of rigid limbs and awkward apologies. But now, he could easily seek your hand in the middle of a crowded train, or wrap his arm around you in the common room, or press a kiss to the top of your head before the start of class. To know that he had made an effort to open himself up to you, allowing you to see this side of him, the side he had only shared with his mother before, made your heart melt and your eyes swim.

Shoto was right, this was more than enough.

A calm voice announces the arrival of your stop and you two stand as passengers begin to climb off the train. 

“Still nervous?” Todoroki asks, threading his fingers through yours once more now that you have both stepped into the morning rush, not wanting to lose you amongst the chaos.

Letting him guide you through the thick crowd, you smile softly, raising your conjoined hands to press your lips to the back of his.

This would always be more than enough.

“No, I think I’ll be okay now.”

[catrasredemption-moved]

Finn Prompt-a-palooza!

Here we go, finally! All four of Finn prompts from my inbox. I hope everyone enjoys!

I love all of the ficlets you've been posting here! Would you be willing to write more stories with Finn, especially when they first come under Catra and Adora's care, getting used to everybody?

Finn liked Catra better.

That was how Adora felt, at least, given the way the child seemed to cling to Catra. And she was trying really, really, really hard not to be jealous, because it made sense that Finn would latch on to the only other person like them.

But she always itched to reach out and comfort them whenever they were scared or anxious. She wouldn’t, because that would just scare them more. But the temptation was strong.

“It’s okay,” Catra assured Finn as he hid behind her leg. They had decided to rip off the band-aid and just introduce them to the entire Princess Alliance at once, after warning their well meaning friends to not overwhelm the child.

“Here.”

Catra easily picked Finn up, letting them stand on her chair and get a better look at everyone. “That’s Scorpia over there, she’s the one who gives really good hugs.” Scorpia beamed and waved. “And that’s Perfuma, she’s the one who restored most of the palace gardens. Those blue roses you like are hers. That’s Netossa and Spinnerella, they’re married like me and Adora, and they travel a lot and bring back awesome snacks. Don’t… Don’t try the chocolate, though. You might be allergic.”

They all grimaced a little, remembering Catra learning that about herself the hard way. “That’s Mermista — she’s the queen of Salineas, and I know that place is all water and it sucks, but she’s still cool.” Mermista threw a mock scowl in Catra’s direction. She stuck her tongue out over Finn’s head. “That’s Frosta, she’s the princess of the snow kingdom.”

Finn’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never seen snow.”

Catra bit down a groan before saying, “We’ll have to visit some time, if Frosta’s okay with it.”

“Of course, Kitty. I know how much you love the snow.”

Brat, Catra thought, resisting another, very mature tongue sticking out. “And that’s Entrapta. She’s the one who makes all the cool robots and stuff.”

“Oh, you like my robots?” Entrapta asked happily, already producing some new project from somewhere. “Wanna see what I’m working on?”

Finn looked at Catra, equal parts anxious and excited. Catra helped them off the chair. “Go on.”

They immediately ran over to Entrapta, watching her with wide eyes, while everyone just sort of stared at Catra. She raised an eyebrow back. “What?”

“Pretty sure they’re all just surprised you can talk to a child without terrifying them,” Glimmer teased. Catra hissed at her.

Finn, meanwhile, was starting to open a little, wandering around the table. Perfuma saw them coming and produced a blue rose, sticking it in their wild hair. They grinned and giggled.

“Can I give you a hug?” Scorpia asked excitedly.

“Little bones,” Catra reminded her as Finn nodded. Scorpia adjusted accordingly so as to not accidentally squish Finn, but they didn’t seem to mind. Adora wrapped her arms around Catra’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder, and smiling as they watched Finn cautiously inspect Mermista, who was being surprisingly patient.

It was going to take awhile, Adora knew, for Finn to really adjust to all of them, but especially to going from no parents to two (possibly overbearing) moms, and an entire gaggle of aunts and uncles ready to dote on them at all times. The wait was worth seeing that smile on Finn’s face as Frosta produced a small snowstorm over their head.

It would be worth it.

* * * * *

Catra and Adora and the first time their child gets a really bad cold?

“Guys, it’s just a cold—”

“They won’t stop coughing! What if they can’t breathe? Or—”

Glimmer rested her hands on Adora’s shoulders, squeezing hard. Catra was still peeking into Finn’s room, watching them sleep fitfully.

“They’re fine. I promise. It’s a cold. Didn’t you guys get colds when you know what don’t answer that, I don’t want to hear about what terrifying medical system the Horde had. Just… trust me, okay? The healer said Finn is okay, they just need to stay hydrated and sleep. Okay?” Adora nodded, chewing on her thumbnail. “Catra, do you — and she’s gone.”

Glimmer sighed, looking into the room. Catra and Melog were sitting on Finn’s bed, Catra carefully checking their temperature with her hand.

“Okay, but if they’re like Catra, then how do we know they’ll be okay?” Adora asked anxiously. “Like, really know? The medicine the healers use doesn’t always work on her, remember?”

“And yet she’s still around to be a pain in my ass.” That got Gimmer a small smile.

“But what if they have some rare disease from living on the streets or—?”

“Adora, do I have to get Bow up here to hug you?”

Adora hesitated before nodding. Glimmer sighed, disappeared, and reappeared with her husband, who wrapped Adora in the kind of tight hug only Bow could give.

“Where’s Catra?” he asked, looking at Glimmer. She nodded to the bedroom. Catra was now scratching Finn’s ears while Melog cuddled against their back.

“Hovering.”

It wasn’t really that surprising that Adora and Catra would be overbearing parents. Their own childhoods still haunted them. Who had taken care of them when they were sick? Who had rubbed their backs when they coughed, checked their temperatures, made sure they stayed hydrated and ate something, even just a ration bar?

Glimmer had a feeling she knew the answer, and it was exactly why they were acting the way they were now. They didn’t want another kid suffering the way they did.

“Okay, but what if they—”

“Adora,” Glimmer cut her off firmly. “Stop imagining worst-case scenarios and just go sit with your kid and wife, okay?”

Not that Glimmer thought hovering was necessarily the right answer, either. But at least Catra would keep her from spiraling into all the ways a cold might kill Finn.

“Right. Okay. Right.”

She threw her arms around her friends before hurrying into the room.

—————————————————— 

Most of the day was a blur for Finn. They remembered people talking, something cold against their forehead, sitting up to drink water. But mostly everything was hot and spinny.

It was dark when they woke for real, feeling a little better. Melog purred against their back, and they smiled, reaching back to pet the alien cat.

“Did Mom tell you to stay with me?”

Melog made an almost amused noise and tilted their head to the other side of the bed. Finn looked, and nearly laughed.

Catra and Adora were both sitting on the floor next to the bed, heads resting on the mattress, fast asleep. It looked really uncomfortable. But it made Finn feel better as they snuggled back down under their covers to sleep. They were sure both women had spent all day worrying and pacing because that was what they always did when they were worried. And Finn was someone they worried about now.

They had someone who worried about them. It made them feel pleasant warm as they fell back to sleep.

* * * * *

could you write something where little finn gets separation anxiety after catra and adora take them in? Thanks!

Adora and Catra were surprisingly busy people. Being the hero of the universe and the person who kept the queen’s life from falling apart were both a lot of work.

(That was how Catra described her job to Finn, anyway, despite Glimmer’s glare and protest that she could keep her life together just fine.)

They always made time for Finn, though. Finn never felt alone or neglected, not like they had when they were living on the streets. No matter how tired their new moms were, they always made a point of spending at least an hour (usually two) with Finn in their room after dinner. They’d let Finn talk about whatever they wanted — what they had learned that day, what hell they’d wrought on the unsuspecting Bright Moon guards, how they were finally learning not to hoard food anymore — until someone fell asleep (usually Adora, on Catra’s shoulder, snoring while she and Finn quietly teased her). Finn felt good. Loved.

“I don’t wanna go to the North. It’s cold.”

“Tell me about it,” Catra muttered, already grimacing at the thought. And they were still in Bright Moon. Glimmer clapped her on the shoulder.

“But you get to help take down the old Horde base! Remember how much you hated that place?”

“Not helping, Sparkles.”

Adora rolled her eyes, ruffling Finn’s hair. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, kiddo. There’s plenty of people to stay here and watch you. Or you could go visit Plumeria. I’m sure Perfuma would love to have you.”

Finn momentarily brightened at the thought before their expression fell. “But…”

“We’re coming back,” Catra assured them. “It’ll just be for a few days.”

“And we can call every night!” Adora added. Finn shifted slightly, staring at their feet.

“I guess… that’d be fun.” They hadn’t spent much time in Plumeria. Sometimes they went with Catra while she meditated with Perfuma (Finn had tried once, and had completely failed at it, but Perfuma assured them it was okay), and it was nice there.

Perfuma, of course, was delighted at the prospect of having her adopted nibling stay with her while Catra and Adora were away. She already had an entire room set up for them by the time Glimmer dropped them off (after lots of hugs from both moms and promises to call and they would always be available if Finn wanted to talk).

“Are you hungry?” Perfuma asked brightly. “We were just about to sit down for dinner. Scorpia’s visiting tonight, too!”

Scorpia was great — Perfuma was great, and Finn loved them both a lot. But that didn’t stop them from bouncing anxiously all throughout dinner, checking their tracker pad every five minutes. Adora and Catra had said they would call, they had promised, and Finn knew they took their promises seriously. Adora had explained once that it was a really important word for them, so when they promised something, they meant it. But what if they were distracted? What if they were tired and fell asleep? What if Adora forgot the charger, or—

“Finn?”

They looked up, blinking rapidly, to see Scorpia and Perfuma watching them with shared concern. “You okay, buddy?” Scorpia asked, tilting her head.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

The tracker pad went off, and Finn immediately dove for it, trying not to look too anxious as they answered.

“…hate the cold—”

“Oh, shush — hey Finn!” Adora said, beaming when she saw the child. Catra was huddled up next to her, wrapped in a blanket and visibly shivering. “How’s it going?”

“It’s warm,” Finn said, grinning back. Catra stuck her tongue out at them.

They talked for almost three hours, until Glimmer yelled for them to shut up and go to sleep and they were getting up at dawn no matter how little sleep the women got. Catra yelled back that she wouldn’t move until she actually saw Glimmer out of bed.

“I should’ve stayed with you,” she informed Finn wryly. “All those two have done is argue the entire way here.”

“That’s all they ever do.”

Catra made a show of putting a hand to her heart, as if offended. “Scorned by my own child.”

Adora rolled her eyes, shoving Catra back. “Talk to you tomorrow, Finn. Sleep well. Love you.”

“Love you!” Catra added.

“Love you too. Don’t freeze.”

Their smile faded when the screen went dark. 

“Finn?”

They jumped, looking at Perfuma. She and Scorpia had left the child to have their privacy while they talked. She was standing in the door now, watching them with a small smile. “Did you have a good talk with your moms?” They nodded slowly. “Good. Can I show you something?”

“Sure.”

Finn followed Perfuma out of the tent and to the Heart Blossom. They already knew where they were going. “I’ve seen the meditation room—”

“But you’ve never seen it at night,” Perfuma said, leading Finn up the hidden stairs. That was true, Finn supposed. The room was flooded with sunlight during the day, lighting up every corner. Now it was softly lit by moonlight, giving it a comfortable, warm feeling. “You miss your moms, huh?”

“No,” Finn said quickly. “I’m fine.”

Perfuma smiled a bit, going to sit in her usual spot and gesturing for Finn to join her. “Has Catra ever told you why she started meditating?” They shook their head slowly. “She… went through a lot of bad stuff when she was a kid, and she used to get really upset and anxious about it. She had a hard time processing those emotions, though, so I offered to help her. Adora did more than I ever could, but I taught her some slightly healthier coping mechanisms, and she really took to meditating after… a couple years.”

The princess chuckled. Finn tilted their head. It was hard to imagine Catra ever being anxious or scared. She seemed so confident all the time. “Does she still…?”

“Feel that way? Sometimes,” Perfuma said. “Don’t tell her I told you, though. I just want you to know that it’s okay if you’re unhappy right now.”

“Do I have to meditate?”

“No,” Perfuma assured them. “But we can talk about it, if you want to tell me what’s wrong.”

Finn blushed, ears drooping. “It’s dumb.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Do you miss them?”

“I… guess, yeah,” they admitted reluctantly. “What if they don’t come back? Or something happens? Or Aunt Glimmer forgets them?”

Perfuma coughed, clearly trying not to laugh. “I don’t think Glimmer would forget them. But I understand what you mean. It’s scary to be away from them, isn’t it? Even though you know they’re coming home and they’re going to call you every night, it’s still scary.”

“Yeah,” Finn muttered. “Like I said, it’s dumb.”

“Of course it isn’t dumb. They’re your mothers. You miss them. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Finn wasn’t convinced. “Adora and Catra used to have a hard time being away from each other, you know.” Thy looked up in surprise. “After the war and everything. They had to learn that the world wouldn’t end if they didn’t see each other for a few hours. Do you think that’s dumb?”

“No.”

“Then why are your feelings different?” Finn didn’t have an answer. Perfuma gently ruffled their hair. “It’s okay to feel what you feel. You should talk to your moms about it. I bet they’d understand better than you think.”

“Okay,” they said quietly, nodding.

“Did that help at all?”

“A little.” And it did. Especially knowing Adora and Catra had been the same way once. Maybe Finn could talk to them about it.

Perfuma cupped their cheeks and gently kissed their forehead. They smiled a little despite themselves.

“And they’re not your only family,” she assured the child with a smile of her own. “We’re all here for you. I promise.”

* * * * *

ooooo I wanna join the Finn prompt too if it's okay? 🥺🥺 I thought of them (+ glimbow's kids too if u want?) accidentally triggering their moms with throwaway comments abt the FZ or Prime's ship or smtg? like mb gushing that those places look oh so cool in the books bc they're kids and like... one's a wasteland the other's a battleship, I can see them going "why did aunt scorpia even rebuild!!!" or "damn I wish I went there!!!!" without realizing how much those places actually destroyed ppl 😔

Finn thought space was cool.

They weren’t wrong — it was cool. Adora had spent hours on Darla’s deck just staring out the huge windows, watching the stars and planets slowly drift by. Stargazing was her favorite relaxing activity. It was even better when Catra joined her.

Catra… had complicated feelings about space. It wasn’t the stars’ fault that every time she looked at them she heard the faint echo of all beings must suffer to become pure. Maybe someday she could stare at the sky with the same fondness her wife and child felt.

For now, she was content to lie with her face buried in Adora’s chest, listening to her heartbeat and the reverberation of her voice as she talked about the constellations.

That was where she was now, with Finn’s excited voice rambling on about school. Well, it was sort of school. It was the kids spending several hours with George and Lance a couple times a week learning everything they’d ever need to know about history, with guest appearances by princesses with specific knowledge or experience (Entrapta had been allowed to teach exactly one lesson).

“Grandpa Lance and Grandpa George were telling us about the war today.” 

They had insisted on being “Grandpa” to every single child they taught, after a pointed look at their own childless son and daughter-in-law (not for a lack of trying on their part). To be fair, Adora and Catra had gotten a head start, taking Finn in they were nine or ten. Everyone else had to get their kids the hard way. It made for some interesting age differences.

“They said it’s not really history yet because it’s still in the fairly recent past, but since all of our parents were in it, we should probably know about it.” Catra frowned, making a note to find out what exactly was in that curriculum. Finn knew the overtures of the war, but none of the details. Including the things Catra had done. She wanted to keep that way as long as possible. “They said knowing about the space stuff was important but they didn’t know much, so they asked ‘Trapta’s weird friend to help.”

Catra went stiff; the slim fingers in her hair hesitated for a moment before sliding down between her shoulder blades, gently but firmly rubbing her back.

“Hordak?”

“Yeah, him.”

The image of Hordak trying to teach a bunch of kids would have been hilarious if not for the fact that he knew everything.

“What did he tell you?” Adora asked, remaining calm while Catra tried to breathe through the sudden rush of emotions.

“He talked a lot about planets and all the places Horde Prime had been.” Finn’s voice dropped a little. “He was really bad, huh?”

“The worst,” Adora said, finding a knot in Catra’s back and gently trying to sooth it away.

“He talked about Horde Prime’s ship, too. A real spaceship!” Taking deep breaths was starting to get harder. The hand on her back moved to her head, gently scratching her ears. Catra didn’t want Finn to see breaking down — didn’t want them to think it was their fault for bringing it up. Adora had gotten the silent signal. “You guys were actually on it, right? And Uncle Bow and Aunt Glimmer? What was it like?”

Catra’s control was starting to unravel. “You know, kiddo,” Adora said carefully, “it’s kind of hard for us to talk about that. Like how it’s hard for you to talk about living on the streets, you know?”

“Oh.” The word was regretful, rather than the disappointment Catra would have expected. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! I know it all sounds really cool when someone else tells you about. Like you said, it’s more recent than the things you normally learn about. Sometimes people need more time to heal.”

That last sentence was for Catra as much as Finn. There was a shuffle of feet through grass, and then Finn was on top of Catra, hugging her tight. Adora crushed them both in her arms, smiling.

“Why don’t you go find Uncle Bow and Aunt Glimmer? We could camp out tonight. Set food on fire.”

“You’re supposed to cook the food, not set it on fire,” Finn said with a small giggle.

“I have a natural talent. Go on.”

Adora waited until Finn was well out of ear shot before sitting up, tugging Catra with her. “Okay, breathe.” She rubbed her hand slowly up and down Catra’s spine as she spoke. “Follow me. Just breathe. It’s okay.”

Catra took several shaking, too fast breaths before she managed to fall into rhythm with Adora’s hand. “D-Damn it,” she hissed, pounding her fist into the ground. “Why the fuck are George and Lance letting Hordak teach kids?!”

“I don’t know.” There’d have to be a talk about that. “It doesn’t sound like he got into too many details, though.”

“And he had to bring up the fucking ship. Did Prime just fry all his common sense out of him?”

Adora tucked her wife under her chin, pulling her into a gentle hug. They stayed like that until the anxious purr in Catra’s chest finally faded, until the tremors stopped, until she could open her eyes without seeing a haze of green. Another storm successfully weathered, at least until it returned to haunt Catra’s dreams.

“Am I ever going to be able to talk about it without wanting to throw up?” Catra asked quietly after a moment.

“I don’t know,” Adora said honestly. Catra drew back to look at her.

“How do you do it? You were there too.”

“I hate talking about it. So much. But the only reason I was there was for you. So… having you close by helps.” She smiled weakly. “Guess this means we’re stuck together.”

“Oh, the horror.”

[captainseaweedbrains]

Everlark + 14 (though I like how 25 is actually just cribbed from the books ... I see you, OP)

So I finally got around to writing this! I hope you enjoy it and sorry about the wait! All mistakes are mine. :) 

Can also be read on Ao3: x

Prompt: “You’re supposed to talk me out of this.”

Life under house arrest—“Stay at Home Order, Katniss,” Peeta always corrected whenever she referred to it as such, “We’re not under arrest for anything.”—Fine. Life under their state’s Stay at Home Order with Peeta was far from the worst-case scenario she could have concocted when the world went into lockdown mode. While she never foresaw her casual weekend-with-the-boyfriend trip turn from her usual two-day visit to an almost three-month visit, Katniss couldn’t complain. The tiny apartment was exploding with all types of baked goods—different breads from recipes Peeta’s dreamt of trying for years and finally had the time to “give them the attention they deserve,”; the sweets she’d randomly point to in his fancy cookbooks and challenge him to make for her; and their many attempts (and failures) at replicating what they saw while binging The Great British Bake Off on Netflix. She’d never been as well-fed in her life as she’d been at Peeta’s for the past three months and she loved it.

 Life was pretty good at Peeta’s. Great, actually. And despite the world crumbling around them and her anxiety taking a huge nosedive due to her fear of her mother and sister possibly contacting Co-vid while working their long hours at the hospital, Katniss couldn’t help feeling content here in their little nest of sweets they created.

On days where she finished with her classes on a good note, the apartment still smelling like fresh baked bread and coffee Peeta made that morning, Katniss would curl up on the couch, the soft blanket she kept at his place wrapped around her, and imagine this being their life always—Peeta painting out on the small balcony, humming to himself; Katniss writing at her desk inside, trying to figure out the notes to the tune in her head. Both subtly glancing at each other and smiling when they were caught (they always got caught). She imagined them walking hand-in-hand, after, to the pizza place around the block that sold the greasiest garlic knots known to man, pointing out the new window displays from the tiny shops as they went. Later, they’d return to their place and argue over what movie to watch until one of them caved, both knowing they’d end up tangled under the blankets, food and movie forgotten.

The image of them living together was comforting. It felt wonderful. Katniss couldn’t stop the silly grin on her face as she thought about it, thinking about how right it felt, living here with Peeta.

They’d only discussed living situations once, a few years back when Peeta got offered a position at an art museum in the city that was two hours away from their hometown. The offer was too good to pass up, they agreed. It’d be stupid not to take it. “It’s only two hours,” she reminded him when he still seemed unsure about the distance, her hands cupping his face, her body pressed against him in his lap. “Remember in college, when we were, like, 8 hours apart? Or when you studied abroad for a year in Italy for your Master’s program? We survived that and we’ll survive this.”

“Yeah, but those all had an end date,” he argued. “This is my career. There’s no end date in sight.”

“And there won’t be,” she reassured. “They’re lucky to have you.”

“But what about us?” he asked, his hands rubbing up and down her back. “I know it’s a couple hours, but with work and our everyday lives—we won’t see each other as often, especially when you get into musical season.”

“I’m not worried,” she said, kissing him on the forehead, her hands running through his curly hair. “We’ll make it work.”

And they did. They found him a cheap apartment in a small village where you walked everywhere for things you needed, music playing at almost every corner, the train station nearby for him to take into the city for work. They alternated months and weekends on who visited whom, Facetiming every night before dinner, before bed. It wasn’t ideal, and the weeks sometimes felt so long, the desire to feel his warm arms around her at night hitting her hard at times, but she always seemed to survive until the weekend, tackling him when she’d see him on Friday nights, throwing bags on the ground, squealing in glee when he’d pick her up and carry her inside, their lips locked together.

They’d been dating since junior year in high school, but everything still felt fresh and new, especially when he kissed her. Held her hand. She wasn’t sure if that lingering feeling of newness was because of the distance, though. Most of their years together had been living hours apart. If they moved in together, would that feeling go away? The few months living together didn’t seem to diminish the excited flutter she felt when he’d curl up next to her on the couch, or how happy she felt when he brought home things she had mentioned in passing, like needing more tampons or wishing she’d remembered to bring more hair ties, having misplaced the six she brought with her for her supposed two-day visit days into her Stay at Home Order stay. In fact, their government-mandated time together only seemed to further convince her that they could make living together work and still come out strong.

There was still a wiggle of doubt, though. Part of her worried maybe this was moving too fast, or that he was perfectly fine with their hours-apart living situation. Moving in together was a big deal. It was the step couples made before marriage. Was she ready for that? God, she wasn’t sure. Then there was her job to worry about, the kids she’s taught for years. What would her students do if she moved on, wasn’t their teacher anymore? Would they miss her?

Prim thought them moving in together was a great idea. “It’s about time,” her sister said during their weekly Facetime date. “Your relationship is a fourth grader, Katniss. A fourth grader,” she stressed. “I think that’s long enough to move in together.”

“I know, I know,” she said quietly, hoping Peeta couldn’t hear them from the front room. “But what about my job? This year I qualify for tenure and with the world turning to shit, job security is pretty important.”

“Please,” Prim scoffed. “I bet Rue can get you any choral position in the state. My girl’s got connections.”

Katniss gave her sister a look. “You’re supposed to talk me out of this, Primrose. I can’t just leave you and mom—my job!” She fiddled with the end of her braid. “My students need me. I can’t just leave that for a guy.”

“Do you honestly hear yourself? ‘For a guy,’” her sister mimicked. “Need I remind you that your and Peeta’s relationship is the same age as a fourth grader? God, I asked Rue to move in a month after knowing her. You two move way too slow.”

“So you think I should ask him?” Katniss wrapped her arms around her legs, tucking her knees under her chin. “Is it rude to ask if I can move in? It is his place.”

Prim rolled her eyes. “God, you two can be too much sometimes,” and with that, her sister hung up.

That was days ago and all Katniss kept thinking about was asking him. She thought of doing it in a cute way, like with her toothbrush or maybe joke about her needing space in his closet for her things, but she already kept half her belongings here. She had a toothbrush next to his and drawers for her socks and underwear. Peeta had always kept obvious space in the closet for her shirts and dress pants for when she came straight from work. Somehow without her realizing it, without the mandated Stay at Home Order, Katniss had already started moving in. Maybe Peeta was just waiting for her to mention it.

So later that day when she finished with her classes on Zoom and he came in from painting on the balcony, his hands still a bit sticky with orange acrylic paint, she pulled him down toward her, the couch far lower than his tall frame, making their angle awkward but she didn’t care. She kissed him, cupping his face in her hands, his cheeks warm from the early summer sun. When she finally let him go, she smiled and told him to sit, crawling into his lap when he did.

“I’m not complaining,” Peeta joked, his sticky paint hands leaving finger prints along her skin, “but what was that all about?”

“Let’s move in together,” Katniss told him softly, biting her bottom lip. “I want to live with you, Peeta, and not just while we’re under house arrest.”

Peeta’s smile could brighten any room and right now, it blinded her. “Stay at Home Order,” he jokingly corrected, rubbing a thumb along her cheek. “You’re really ready for that? To take that step with me?”

“I think I have been for awhile,” she confessed, leaning into his touch. “I want to live with you for always. Is that—is that okay with you?”

He laughed and pressed his forehead against hers. “That is perfectly fine with me, Katniss.”

[cass-y0inks]

“First Man”

Ok before we start this little fic was inspired by the song, “First Man” by Camila Cabello. It reminds me of the time on relationship that Dick would have with Marinette growing up. You can choose who she ends up with I probably won’t focus on that you may leave it in the comments, your choice (Y/C)Also I decided that I’m going to make Kori Marinette’s mother figure. Btw I’m sorry that the other part is taking very long but I will try to finish it and post it sometime this week, hopefully. Anyway Enjoy! (Warning long post)

Yes I’m gonna stay with him tonight, I’ll see you in the morning, no of course, he won’t drink and drive. Can you say bye to mom for me?

“Papa I’ll be fine, it’s just for one night. You know I won’t be able to make it in time, there’s to much traffic.” Marinette really loved her papa, she really did but sometimes he would let his anxiety get to him.

“I know my little Angel, just please be very careful. Oh and Y/C, bring her back in the morning unharmed. Capiche?” Her papa really did love his nicknames for everyone, especially her’s. She was his little angel no matter what, even if he did steal the name from her uncle Damian.

Y/C looked over to her phone and gave him a small smile, “Yes sir, understood. We’ll see you in the morning”

“Keep your eyes on the road Prince Charming. Good night Sunshine, sleep well” her papa sended her a small kiss after he said that.

“Good night papa, sleep well to. And tell mama good night for me too. Love you” she hung up after she returned his small kiss.

Oh, you’ll like him, he’s really kind and funny like you sometimes. And I found someone I really like, maybe for the first time.

Marinette was fixing her papa’s tie for the third time it just never stayed put. She was beyond nervous, her whole family was meeting him today, her mama, her great grandpa, her grandpa, and all her uncles and aunties! It’s not that they embarrassed her, it’s just that she really likes Y/C and her family could get a little... out of hand.

Dick noticed the doubt in her eyes when he looked away from the mirror to look at her. He sighed, he knew what that felt like of course. He gently pulled her into a hug and thought of a way to distract her. “Hey.... wh-why don’t you tell me more about him”

He saw how her eyes lit up almost instantly, “Papa you’ll like him, he’s confident, kind, and funny” she looked down at her feet remembering all the jokes he would make when they would hang out. “Almost as funny as you, who knows? Maybe even funnier papa.”

“Excuse me? Funnier that me! No no no, impossible” that he would never allow.

“Fine not as funny or funnier than you” she sighed out. “Thank you sunshine” he said back with his arms crossed on his chest.

“Just way more stylish.” With that she left him with his mouth wide open.

That nigh went great, he wasn’t intimidated at all by her family, and it didn’t change anything.

No, I don’t need a jacket, it’s not that cold outside. And you worry, I get it but he’s waiting outside

“Mari come on, I don’t want you catching a cold!” Dick was trying to get her in a fuzzy-warm light toned jacket before her movie date with Y/C.

“Papa it’s the middle of July, I won’t need I jacket” sometimes her papa would try different ways to stall her even for just a couple of seconds. “Papa I know you worry but he’s been out there for almost 3 minutes. Look if anything happens I’ll call you, ok? Tell mama I love her to, goodbye.”

Giving her one last hug he said, “goodbye, I love ya to sunlight”

I swear on my heart that he’s a good man. I know you’ll stay up late just waiting for me, you held me so tight now someone else can. But you were the first man that really loved me.

“Papa I promise he’s the sweetest guy I have ever met. He cares, loves and protects me. Like you.” Marinette finally had some free time with her parents. Her mama, papa, and herself were at a a restaurant having a peaceful dinner. The restaurant were she and Y/C had there first date, that brought back memories.

Her mama, Kori, was the one to talk sense into him. “Dick you knew that she would eventually grow up and find someone she liked, just like you and me.” Kori saw how he still had a small pout on his lips looking down at his food.” She smiled. “Remember when you first asked me out on a date. We held hands, laughed together, took pictures. Remember what we felt. We felt special and loved, that’s how they feel. Loved.”

Kori saw how he didn’t really move much, she looked over to her daughter and gave her a small smile and nodded her head pointing at Dick. She got the message and took her papa’s and mama’s hands and held them together. She took a few moments to form her words. “Papa, you’ know how you would hold me and mama on our worst days. How it felt like home, like safety... that’s what I feel with him. You worry about me when I’m with him and sometimes loose sleep but I swear that he means well.” Her papa finally looked up at her with teary eyes.

She stood up from he seat and hugged him. “Papa no matter how much I’m with him or he says he loves me please remember, You were the first man that really loved me.”

Now you’re driving to the airport, not just me you pick up anymore. I’ve got eight days off coming up, and I can only come home for four.

“Papa! Over here!” Marinette rushed over to him, following closely behind was Y/C smiling at him. Dick opened his arms and almost fell back when Mari crashed into him. How ge missed hugging her, memorizes coming back. This wasn’t the first time he picked her up from the airport but, it was the first time she came back with someone else.

“It’s good to see you again sir.” Y/C slowly stood out his hand in front of him. Dick eyed him before carefully taking his hand into his and lightly shaking it.

“You to son.” Marinette stared at her papa in shock, ‘son?’ That was in improvement. Last time she checked he was still skeptical about him. Maybe Alfred or mama finally knocked some sense into him.

Yeah I just met his family. They’re just like you and mom. He makes me really happy, I think he might be the one.

To say the least Marinette was, anxious? She really couldn’t explain what she felt. Today she was finally going to meet his parents. Her long time boyfriend’s parents. She could only remember one time she was this nervous. It was when he was going to met her family.

Different scenarios ran through her head, a variety of ‘what if’s’. It felt like the world was spinning in circles. A familiar ring caught off her thoughts, her phone. She took out her phone from her pocket and read the name on the screen. ‘Papa’. Before answering she took a few deep breath’s trying to calm herself down.

“H-hi pa-papa. H-ho-w ar-are y-you.” Damit. Her papa on the other side of the line clearly noticed the stutter in her voice.

“Mari what happened? Are you ok? Do you need help?” She noticed panic in his tone.

This time she took multiple slow breaths and told him what was bothering her. After what seemed like an hour, she calmed down. Venting always helped her out. She was still nervous but she had at least calmed down a bit. She looked down at her phone to check the time. ‘4:52’ he’d be here any minute. “Papa I have to go, but thank you for calling me. I really needed to talk”

“Anytime sunshine. I love you” he sent her a kiss through the other line.

“Love you to dad”

The dinner night with his parents when great. She had a lot of fun throughout the night. His parents almost reminded her of her parents. They were fun, energetic and loving. She had to thank her papa Ofer helping her calm down.

Now you’re on the driveway faking a smile. You wish you could tell him he doesn’t deserve me. So I had to stop the car and turn around to tell you, you were the first man that really loved me.

She was going back to Paris after a few week’s back In Gotham. Audrey Bourgeois wouldn’t be waiting for her all day. She and Y/C had previously convinced her to let her stay a few more day in Gotham, Audrey’s patience was already running out. Everything was in the car by now, all they had to do was say goodbye.

One by one she said good bye to her family all that was left was her papa. Step by step she made her way up to him until she was right in front of him, he wasted no time in pulling her into a tight hug. Once they broke apart she heard a sniff, her papa was crying. And so was she.

“I love you papa/Marinette” they told each other at the same time. Giving him a sad smile she made her away to the car where Y/C was waiting for her in the passenger seat. Buckling up she started the car and drove away. After a couple of feet she looked at the rear view mirror and saw her papa shedding multiple tears from his eyes waving goodbye at her. Before she could process what she was doing she pulled over and got off the car.

Her papa saw her running towards him, and he planned to meet her at the middle. Once she was close enough she jumped into his arms. He caught her and spinned her around. He carefully put her down after a while but didn’t let her go. She felt a few tears running down her face. She got closer to his ear and quietly whispered, “You were the first man that really loved me” she took a short pause before continuing. “I love you papa, thank you”

And before they open up the door,I say I’ve never seen you cry before. You say “you’ve never looked so beautiful before. You know you’ll always be my little girl.”

Today was the day, she was getting married. She would have never imagined every little detail like this, it was a dream come true for her. She had designed her own dress. It was long with loose sleeves and instead of traditional white it was a very pale pink and a floral like pattern. He papa was in a black suit and a tie that matched her dress. She was nervous of course but having her papa next to her helped her a lot. It was a few more minutes before her uncle’s opened up the doors.

She felt a tear landing on her hand. She looked up and saw her papa wiping his eyes. A smile making its way across her face. She raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. Her papa let out a teary laugh. “Papa I’ve never seen you cry so much before.” It was true. He wouldn’t really cry so much, but this was like it almost looked like a small waterfall leaving his eyes.

He let out another quiet laugh, “It feels like just yesterday you were learning you first steps. Now your walking down the aisle, you look gorgeous Mari.” Wiping away his tears he told her, “ You know you’ll always be my little girl.” Seconds before the doors opens he placed a light feathered kiss on her forehead. Time to go.

You’re looking at me, while walking down the aisle with tears in your eyes. Maybe he deserved me, you don’t even know how much it means to me now

This was it, just a few more steps and she’d be at the altar. Y/C was looking straight at her with the biggest smile he ever had. Her papa still had tears in his eyes, as did the rest of her family. Even the baby of the family had to grow up eventually.

Dick didn’t think this day would come, he imagined it yes but for it to actually be here was unreal. He couldn’t control his tears from flowing down his eyes. They wouldn’t be stoping anytime soon. Maybe he did deserve his daughter. Maybe this was a good day. Looking back down at her he saw she was looking at the altar, specially at Y/C. This day was big for her, he knew that. This was her day. Of this was special for her, it was special for him.

They finally reached the altar.

You were the first man that really loved me, that really loved me.

It was the end of the night, everything went perfect. If she had to be honest, she was tired. Yet that didn’t stop her from going out to the balcony where her papa was. She quietly leaned against the railing like he was. They stood in silence for a moment. Her papa broke the silence first.

“Well you did it, you grew up. When will you stop?” He turned to her and let out a chuckle. She giggled a bit and gave him a light hug.

She pulled away shortly, “Papa even if I still grow, I will always be there with you. You are the reason why I’m who I am, why I’m here today and always.” She stoped and looked down for a second then quickly looked back up at him. “You are the first man that loved me.”

Kori stepped onto the with hot chocolate. “Would you like some Mar-” The sight in front of her caught her off. Dick and her daughter were sleeping on a chaise. Her head tucked under his head.

You really loved me

That’s the end. Sorry if I missed someone in the tag list. I hope you all liked it. Goodbye.

Tag list (closed):@virgil-is-a-cutie @caffeinetheory @theatreandcomicfreak @thepeacetea @abrx2002 @fertileleaf @tog84 @kawaiigiantjudgefish @captainartsypants @witchsblackfox @myazel @echpr @drarryismylife101 @dorkus-minimus @dast218 @tired-butterfly @jeminiikrystal @iglowinggemma28 @lilyellowink @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @aestheticandpoetic @daminett4life @weird-pale-blonde-person @tbehartoo @onelargemcbitch @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @crytallized @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @princess-of-fangirls @winter-gardenflower @jardimazul @littleredrobinhoodlum @oodle-n @isabellemasen @luleck @akalovelymaybe @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @finallyaniguana @smolplantmum @if-you-give-a-chat-a-cookie @mystery-5-5 @thesunanditsangel @vixen-uchiha @minightrose @melicmusicmagic @crazylittlemunchkin @queenmj10 @my-name-is-michell @draco-kasai @blackrosee3 @elmokingkong @sassydepression @dragonflyswing @bigpicklebananatree @thetinymoonflower

[sheerfreesia007]

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 47)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 47)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 1,922

Warnings: Anxiety

Tags: @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​, @two-unbeatable-beaters​, @randomness501​, @sevvysaurus​, @paryl​, @fioccodineveautunnale​, @talesfromtheguild​, @secretsihideinside​

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711​

Author Notes: Just another filler piece. We find out a little about how Whiskey felt when the reader was captured.

Gif Credit: Pinterest

         The Kentucky sun was warm as you dozed lazily in its rays that filtered through the window of Jack’s living room. You had handed over your apartment keys to your landlord the day before after you had finished packing the last of your boxes and selling the rest of your leftover furniture that wouldn’t be needed. After having Tequila, Comm10 and few other guys from HQ help you move your stuff into Jack’s ranch you had decided to rest on the couch in the living room where you were currently laying just waking up from a cat nap.

         Stretching slowly you smiled softly with your eyes still shut. The sun felt so good on your skin as it warmed you to the core. You finished stretching and just lay there with your eyes shut slowly waking up fully. You turned your head to the side and noticed your cellphone sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. Leaning over you swiped it up and opened your phone. The picture of Jack kissing your cheek as you squinted your eyes closed and your mouth open in laughter greeted you making you smile widely. Then your eyes noticed the many notifications of texts, missed calls and voicemails from Jack.

         Hey darlin’. Just wanted to see how you were doing. I hope you’re well. I miss you and can’t wait to see you soon. :*

         You’re probably busy with Tequila and the boys moving all of your stuff into the ranch. If there’s any problems let me know ok?

         I just tried calling a few times and I don’t if you’re not around your phone or what but shoot me a text when you get a chance. Let me know everything’s ok.

         I know you can take of yourself darlin’ but just check in with me when you can ok?

         Your smile was wide as you read the text messages quickly, each one was getting more progressively worried as the hours stretched on without a response from you. Your fingers quickly danced across your phone typing out a text easily.

         Sorry honey. Everything’s fine I just fell asleep after the guys left and had my phone on vibrate. Gonna call you in a few. I miss and love you.

         You didn’t have to wait very long for Jack to respond to your text. You smiled as the texting bubble popped up almost instantly.

         Ok, glad everything is ok. You didn’t by any chance listen to the voicemails yet did you?

         You tilted your head slightly as you read the text from him and a smirk began to form slowly on your face. Something was up if you were to believe the anxious vibe under his text. You wondered what was on those voicemails that had him so nervous.

         Not yet, that was my next step.

         Why don’t you forget those voicemails and just call me darlin’. ;)

         You laughed softly knowing that your instincts were on point with his nervousness over the voicemails he left. You felt more eager to listen to the voicemails now than ever. Pulling up your visual voicemail box you quickly saw that he had left you three voicemails. Pressing on the first one you pressed the speaker button and held the phone above you as you laid back on the couch.

         “Hey darlin’ it’s me. I’m sure you’re supervising Tequila and the guys as they move all of your stuff. I just wanted to check in with you and see how you’re feeling. Make sure you rest that knee I know you’re trying to push for a sooner date to come back to work but I don’t want you to hurt your recovery so take it easy.” Came Jack’s deep voice out of your speakers making your heart clench in familiarity. Your whole body relaxed into the couch as you listened to his deep gravelly voice as it floated in the air and across your skin and into your ears. “Alright I was just checking in and wanted to make sure everything’s alright. I love you. Call me back when you get a chance darlin’.”

         You smiled softly as the voicemail ended, Jack was such an attentive man especially since you were laid up on medical leave. You knew it was just his way of showing you that he loved you and you were grateful that he was there to care about you so much. That wasn’t so bad I wonder what’s got him so nervous about these voicemails. You then pressed on the second voicemail and waited to hear Jack’s voice again.

         “It’s me again darlin’. I’m pretty sure the guys should be done now and I haven’t heard anything from ya.” You smiled as you heard the anxious tone in his voice and then some background noise came through the line and you heard Agent Vodka talking to him. “Damn, alright yeah I’ll be there in a few minutes. Thanks Vodka.” You heard him say distractedly as he responded to Vodka. “Listen darlin’ I gotta go into a meeting now but I want you to call me. I need to know you’re okay otherwise I’m gonna call HQ and have someone come round and do a wellness check on you. Understand? Call me. Please I love you.”

         You felt your heart swelling at the anxious tone that was overwhelming in this message. Feeling bad that you had fallen asleep and caused him this much worry over not being able to get ahold of you. You wondered how bad this last voicemail was going to be. You cringed and closed your eyes as you pressed on the last voicemail.

         “Hey darlin’, I’m starting to worry now. I got in touch with Tequila and he said that they left you at the ranch about two hours ago. I’m just hoping you’re there and just can’t hear your phone. I know how you get when you listen to your music sometimes.” He begins saying and you can hear the tired worry in his voice and you frown softly knowing that you were making him feel this way. “I know logically you’re safe at the ranch but I…I can’t go through almost losing you again darlin’. I just can’t. It was horrific when I heard you were captured by the Russians. I went to a dark place when we all found out. And I just got you back and-Fuck! Answer your damn phone darlin’. Please. I’m beggin’ you.” The voicemail cut off there and you felt your heart clench in your chest.

         Blindly you pulled up Jack’s contact and dialed his number. You pressed your phone to your ear and waited listening to it ring. You could feel tears starting to sting your eyes just imagining how torn up he had been when you were captured. Obviously that incident messed with both of you significantly.

         “Darlin’.” Comes Jack’s hushed relieved voice in your ear and you’re suddenly sobbing into the phone.

         “I’m so sorry.” You cry deeply and feel your lungs trying to suck in air.

         “Hey, hey darlin’. There is nothing to be sorry for.” Jack quickly says trying to ease you.

         “But I made you worry and go back to that feeling you had when I was captured.” You cry softly into the phone.

         “Listen to me darlin’. There is nothing to be sorry for. I did that to myself, my brain went into overdrive when I couldn’t get in touch with you and immediately went to worst case scenario. It’s alright darlin’, I’m just relieved you’re okay.” Jack explained easily to you in a firm voice. You nodded as you sniffled into the phone.

         “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was just tired after the guys were here. I’m sorry I should’ve texted.” You apologized again as Jack cooed at you over the phone.

         “Darlin’ it’s okay. I’m glad you rested I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions okay? It’s on me darlin’ not on you.” He said softly into the phone and you huffed out a breath. “We’re a pair of messes aren’t we?” he asked chuckling and you snorted out a laugh as you wiped at your nose.

         “Yeah, but it’s only because we’re separated right now. Once we’re back together we’ll be fine.” You said sullenly and Jack made a sound of agreement.

         “We don’t have much longer to wait though darlin’.” He said warmly and you felt a smile begin to form on your face.

         “How do you do that?” you ask curiously.

         “Do what?” he questioned teasingly.

         “Ease me completely until I forget what I was upset about?” you asked softly.

         “It’s because I’m the best boyfriend ever.” He declared and you snorted in laughter. “Now darlin’, you can’t deny that declaration I am the best boyfriend ever. But honestly it’s because we love each other so much and know that we have each other’s backs no matter what. Besides right about now you should be getting a reminder of why I’m the best boyfriend ever.” You rolled your eyes and smiled affectionately at his words before you heard the doorbell ring. Furrowing your brow you sat up and grabbed your cane.

         “Hold on Jack someone’s at the door.” You said into the phone as you moved towards the front door. You turned the phone on speaker and set it down on the same end table in the hallway by the door and pulled out your desert eagle from the gun box in the drawer of the table before moving to the door.

         “Darlin’ put that back it’s just the food delivery I ordered for ya!” Jack called over the phone and you turned your head to the phone. You set the firearm down on the table not far from you and opened the door to see a young man in a red uniform that had the logo for your favorite Chinese place in town.

         “Evenin’ miss I’ve got a delivery for Curaçao?” he said easily and handed over your food before turning and leaving.

         “Wait don’t you want a tip?” you called out to the young man who turned around with a wide smile.

         “It’s already taken care of miss! Have a good evenin’!” he called back with a wave. You shook your head as you shut the front door and locked it up. You set the food down and quickly slipped your firearm back in the gun box and into the drawer before picking up your phone and sliding it between your shoulder and ear.

         “Already taken care of? What did you do Jack?” you asked warmly with curiosity brimming over inside you.

         “I may have sent over a generous tip to the delivery boy if he could get your food to you still hot.” He said in that warm gravelly voice that made your insides melt. “Now listen darlin’. We’ve both had quite an eventful afternoon already and all I want you to do tonight is relax. Eat your dinner while watching your favorite show. Then take a relaxing bath and pamper yourself. I love you darlin’, I’ll call you when I get back to the apartment tonight alright?” he said warmly to you and you leaned on your cane feeling yourself melt even farther at his words.

         “Alright Jack. I love you.” You said affectionately as you smirked at his words.

         “I love you too darlin’. Now get to! I’ll call you later.” He said teasingly and you laughed softly as you both hung up the phone.

[mikauzoran]

Marichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Fifteen

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...passionately.

Marinette gasped. “You brought me a whole bolt of silk taffeta! Minou, you shouldn’t have! This is too expensive,” she insisted, even as she eagerly ran her fingers over the pastel pink fabric, envisaging the ballgown she would make with it.

Chat Noir shrugged, drinking in the sight of his breathlessly happy girlfriend. “What’s the use of being rich if I can’t supply the love of my life with high-end fabric?”

She looked up from the taffeta and frowned. “This feels like a bribe. What did you do that you’re trying to get me to forgive you for?”

Chat winced at how perceptive she was. Just like Ladybug. He definitely had a type.

“Nothing,” he lied. “It’s more that I was trying to butter you up.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, propping the bolt of fabric against her desk by the sewing machine before coming over to sit on the chaise longue beside him. “I’m listening.”

He inhaled slowly. “So…we know each other.”

She blinked. “Um…yeah? Going on four years now.”

He shook his head, taking her hand in his. “Princess…I mean that…we know each other…when I’m not transformed.”

Her eyes flew wide, and she pulled back, opening her mouth to protest.

His fingertips went to her lips. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m not giving away my identity without your permission—promise—I just… We know each other, Marinette, and it’s really hard for me when we see each other and you don’t know who I am.”

Her instinct was to look away, change the subject, not deal with the problem, hope that it would go away because she couldn’t handle even one more thing on top of the stack she was already precariously balancing, feeling like she would trip and drop it all at any second.

She didn’t look away, though. She forced herself to meet his gaze and see the hurt and longing in his eyes.

“It’s really hard not being able to be your boyfriend half the time,” he explained. “I’m not saying this to pressure you or try to guilt you into letting me reveal my identity. I’m just trying to be honest with you about my feelings. A friend told me that healthy couples are honest with one another, so…I’m trying to be as honest as I can, Marinette.”

She did avert her eyes then, studying the whorls in the floorboards.

A sharp dagger of guilt ripped through her insides as she thought of all the ways she wasn’t being honest with him. Ladybug and Adrien were only the tip of the iceberg.

“May I please tell you who I am?” he pleaded gently. “I just want us to be able to be together. I want to be your boyfriend on both sides of the mask.”

To her credit, she did think about it.

She thought about it for all of five seconds before her head was filled to bursting with nightmare scenarios of Papillon coming after her parents, Chat Noir dead, her identity exposed, all of Paris underwater, the world in ruins, and Tikki telling her “I told you so”.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Chat Noir. I want us to be together all the time too, but…it’s too dangerous with Papillon still at large. Your life, my life, the lives of our families and friends, the lives of all the inhabitants of Paris could depend on your identity staying safe. It would be irresponsible and selfish for us to disregard that kind of risk.”

“You sound like Ladybug,” Chat sighed, carding a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yes, there’s a slim chance that things could go sideways, but I can’t imagine it ever getting as bad as all that.”

She looked at him and tried not to see flashbacks of him in pure white. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t have to imagine the worst because she had already seen it in another future where something had gone wrong…. Only, she didn’t know what, so she didn’t know what to guard against. Wasn’t it better, then, to guard against everything?

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, feeling lost, not knowing what was right, just feeling the weight of her decision, how it could impact so many people. “Someday, Minou, but not today. I’m not ready.”

He blew out a long exhale, giving his hair a slight pull as he mentally growled at himself to be patient.

She hadn’t said no…just not yet. That was progress, wasn’t it?

He had to respect her feelings, her choice.

…But he didn’t think he could go on as they were much longer. More importantly, he didn’t think that she could go on.

He dropped his hands to the side and sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” she repeated, blinking at him in surprise.

He nodded, turning to give her a soft smile. He placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. “I love you. I would never pressure you on something big like this. If you’re not ready, I’ll deal until you are.”

“…I don’t deserve you,” she chuckled as tears slowly began to drip down her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes. “Princess, we one hundred percent deserve one another. Trust me.”

He wiped carefully at her face with his thumb, mindful of his claws, and then leaned in for a quick smooch.

“Let’s go snuggle,” he suggested as he pulled back, tipping his head towards her loft.

She nodded her assent, and they made for her bed, slipping off shoes and gloves and hair ties respectively along the way.

Snuggling became kissing, but before kissing could turn to making out, Chat disengaged, propping himself up on his elbow to gaze down at her, running a knuckle up and down her jaw.

“Why’d you stop?” she whined, eyes half-lidded.

“I finally got up the courage to say something I’ve been trying to tell you for a couple days now,” he admitted, lips wavering between a sheepish smile and a grimace.

Marinette’s eyebrows converged into a deep v of concern. “What is it, Chat Noir?”

He bit his lip, hesitating yet again. “Don’t freak out.”

“Too late,” she snorted dryly, her anxiety suddenly shooting through the skylight. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Everything is fine. There’s nothing to get worked up about, so don’t freak out.”

She pushed herself up to sitting, his words having no comforting effect. “Chat Noir, please just tell me.”

He sat up and took her hands in his. “I love you.”

“Chat,” she whined, voice tight and strained.

“Adrien told me,” he blurted out.

She stared at him, trying to derive meaning from his words.

Individually, they made sense, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of them when assembled in that configuration.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly spit out, words flowing from his lips too fast for Marinette to follow. “He only said something because he was worried about you. He’s afraid the guilt is making you physically ill, and he doesn’t want to be the reason you get akumatized, Marinette. He knows you were afraid about how I would react, but he couldn’t stay quiet anymore, so…he told me.”

“Oh.” Marinette tipped over, covering her face with her hands as she lay back down. “What…exactly…did he tell you?”

“That you two have been making out the past few months,” he clarified, wincing.

“Oh,” she whispered, the word a broken, wet sound as her tears began to fall in tandem with everything Chat Noir had ever been to her—partner, friend, soulmate—crashing down around her ears.

It was over.

She’d lost him.

One of the few people who had truly mattered in her life, and she’d messed it all up with her greed and indecision.

It felt like a chunk of her lung had broken off, leaving a sizeable hole.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Marinette, it’s okay,” he stressed, hands stroking her hair and hands and face frantically. “It’s okay. He told me everything. I know this is Adrien’s fault, not yours, so there’s no need to be upset. It’s okay.”

Marinette’s tears instantly dried, and she lowered her hands from her face to frown up at him in confused annoyance. “Chat Noir, it’s not like Adrien tied me up and forced me to kiss him. I don’t know what he said, but I betrayed you, plain and simple. Yes, in the beginning, it was a series of accidents with Adrien kissing me, but…that was just the first month or so. Yeah, I tried to stop, but…sometimes I didn’t try very hard. I chose to cheat on you…and I’m sorry.”

She forced herself to keep meeting his eyes even though all she wanted to do was shrivel up in shame and guilt. “I know those words are probably less than meaningless, but I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. That and not wanting to lose you were the main reasons I never said anything.”

She shook her head sadly. “Sorry I screwed up. You deserve better, and I would apologize a million times if I thought saying sorry would mean anything at this point, but I feel like it would just be a bunch of empty words after what I did. It’s not like I can ever make it better, make it up to you.”

“Marinette,” he sighed. “Oh, Marinette. Stop. Look. It’s fine. I’m not mad.”

She blinked up at him for a moment before her surprise gave way to indignation and she pushed herself back up to sitting. “What? Chat Noir, nothing about this is fine. You should be livid. I cheated on you.”

He shook his head, reaching out to capture her hands again.

She pulled them away.

“Marinette,” he groaned. “Seriously. It’s okay. I know this isn’t some random fling, and I know you wouldn’t cheat on me with just anyone. You told me from the very beginning that you had feelings for him. The day we started dating you told me that you’d almost let him kiss you just hours before. You could have so easily been his girlfriend instead of mine, so I understand the temptation when he’s throwing himself at you. A few years ago when I was trying to get over Ladybug, if she had started accidentally kissing me while I was dating my one friend, I don’t know that I would have been able to resist either, so I can kind of understand your dilemma. Can we please just blame Adrien for this and move on?”

Deep trenches plowed their way across Marinette’s brow as she tried to understand what was happening.

“You’re not mad,” she observed in confusion. “Why aren’t you mad?”

“Because I love you and want you to be happy,” Chat responded quickly in a minimal effort to keep his identity secret since she was so opposed to knowing.

“No.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not jealous at all.”

A twinge of hurt filtered into her expression.

“You don’t care that I cheated on you,” she deciphered.

“Marinette, of course I care,” he protested weakly, not entirely sure that he cared if this was how she figured him out. “I just don’t…” He bit his tongue. “I’m not angry.”

A troubled look settled upon her features. “But…don’t you love me? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not mad because I cheated on you too,” he blurted out before she could start to think that he didn’t really love her.

Marinette’s eyes went wide before a wounded expression took over, making her shrink slightly as her shoulders rose and she curled in on herself.

“I kissed Adrien too!” he hurriedly invented, falling back on the one person whom he had free reign to throw under the bus.

Marinette’s rapidly changing emotions instantly went back to bafflement as she gawked at her boyfriend. “You…what?”

“I kissed Adrien,” he asserted, deciding that that was his hill to die on now. “A couple times. He told you that we’re friends, right? That I visit him sometimes?”

She nodded, trying to piece things together so that they made sense. She wasn’t having much success getting the edges to line up.

“Well, I mean, he’s very attractive,” he tried to explain, fearing he was doing a poor job and making himself out to be fickle, “and I feel an emotional connection with him because we’re so similar,” he hastily added.

That was better.

“He gets things that other people don’t really understand, so I can talk to him about anything, and we’re both kind of going through a sexuality crisis, so…” He shrugged helplessly. “It just felt natural to experiment together.”

“O-Oh,” she choked, a red stain spreading over her cheeks not just from her earlier bout of tears.

“I think I’m bi,” his mouth confessed even as his brain panicked, screaming at him that there was too much truth coming out in this lie. “I’m kind of freaking out about it, honestly, because my father’s either going to not care or disown me. The first option hurts, and the second one is terrifying, and I didn’t tell you because, even though I know you have queer friends, I wasn’t so sure you’d want to keep dating a guy who likes other guys, and I am devastatingly in love with you, Marinette,” he laughed mirthlessly, choking as a hardy stream of tears broke free and rushed forth down his cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you, and I’m just so scared of being rejected. I know she didn’t mean to, but the whole thing with Ladybug really messed me up, and I was messed up to start with because of my parents, so—”

She didn’t hesitate any longer, pulling him into her arms and squeezing tight.

“Shhh,” she cut him off gently. “Shhh, Minou. It’s okay.”

She eased him down onto the bed with her, petting his hair, nuzzling his face, and making soothing shushing noises. “It’s okay, My Love. I would never push you away for being who you are. I love all of you. This doesn’t change anything.”

“It doesn’t?” he replied hoarsely.

She shook her head, nuzzling his temple as she did so. “No, Beloved. Nothing is ever going to make me stop loving you. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me something like that ever again. I will never reject you.”

“Oh,” he sniffled, feeling calmer as he listened to the steady thrum of her heartbeat and soaked up the warmth of her skin. “Then, I’m glad that I just blurted that out like that because I’ve kind of been struggling with this for…” He tried to think back and remember when he’d first started to notice that he was noticing other guys, but his memory came up blank. There was the almost-kiss with Luka at Christmas, but that was just when it had all come to a head. It had started even before that. “…it’s been a while,” he concluded with a sigh.

“Oh, Minou,” she whispered, a sick feeling rising up in her gut. “I wish I’d known. I wish I could have done something for you. It hurts to know that you were suffering on your own like that and didn’t feel like you could say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled meekly, cat ears drooping as if he’d been chastised. “I mean, I should have known that I could tell you, but I was afraid that—”

“—Chat Noir, no,” she interrupted, cupping his face in her hands. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I understand. I just hope that you know now for next time that you can tell me anything and it won’t change how I feel about you.”

“Thanks,” he sniffled, a watery smile slowly forming on his lips. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m not used to the idea of not having to be afraid that someone’s going to stop loving me. I mean, I know you’re supposed to be able to count on your parents always loving you, but…that’s not true in my case, so if not even my parents love me, I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust that anyone else will.”

“And I’m not doing a good job of proving it to you either,” she sighed, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. “I’m sorry for failing you, Chat Noir.”

“You didn’t fail me, Marinette,” he protested wearily, nuzzling her collarbone. “You’re doing your best, and your best is pretty good. I mean, you and Ladybug are probably the two people who have been the most unwavering in your love for me, even when I was being an intolerable brat, so…you haven’t failed me, Princess.”

“Still,” she whispered. “I can do better. I promise I’m going to do better,” she swore resolutely. “I’ll make you believe you’re lovable.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, blinking away tears. “That’s kind of a tall order. It’s going to take a lot of work.”

“I’ll manage,” she assured, closing the distance between them.

He was more than happy to sink into her kiss and lose himself in her lips.

It started out languid but quickly escalated as they both put all of their stress, fear, frustration, and the intensity of their feelings for one another into the kiss. One kiss became two, and two turned to a dozen until they both lost count, kissing each other breathless as the minutes blurred together.

Chat finally pulled back, and Marinette gave a lusty moan of protestation.

“Oh, were you enjoying yourself?” he chuckled as he propped himself up on his forearms, obviously proud of the effect he had on her.

She gave his arm a light smack. “You’re lucky that smug grin of yours is sexy. …I’m still thinking about kissing it clean off your face, though.”

“Maybe in a bit,” he laughed, dropping his head to nuzzle her shoulder. “I think I need to catch my breath first.”

Marinette took a deep inhale, trying not to squirm as she attempted to calm her raging hormones. A bit of a needy whimper escaped as she breathed out.

He raised an eyebrow in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Her entire face flushed as she gave him a plaintive look, willing him to understand without her having to say anything.

He continued to stare at her obliviously. “Marinette? Are you okay?”

“How are you not as worked up as I am right now?” she groaned bluntly.

His eyes grew to the size of spools of thread. “O-Oh,” he replied dumbly, internally panicking. “I…I’m sorry. I…”

His mind was racing. He didn’t know what to say, how to justify his lack of a physical response to her.

Marinette pursed her lips, trying not to grimace. “Are you…asexual too?”

How believable was it for Adrien and Chat Noir to both be biromantic asexual, he wondered.

“Minou,” she called gently, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “If you are, you can tell me. Or, if it’s something else, you can tell me that too. Whatever it is, it’s fine. It’s not going to make me love you any less, okay?”

He took a shuddering breath and blew it out. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Are you asexual?” she tentatively asked again.

He gulped and nodded.

She patted his cheek and gave him a bolstering smile. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

“Marinette, I know that sex is something you want in a relationship,” he rushed to assure her. “I know it’s a big deal, and I know it’s kind of a deal breaker, so I just want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy,” he stressed, desperate for her to know so that she wouldn’t dump him. “I promise I’ll find a way to make things work.”

“Chat Noir,” she breathed, a darker note of concern in her voice.

Her brow scrunched into a frown.

He tensed.

“I would never make you do something you didn’t want to do,” she explained slowly and solemnly, making sure that he understood. “And this isn’t something you have to figure out on your own. This is something we figure out together as a couple. We’re partners, Chat Noir. We’re in this together.”

He laid his head down on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight in gratitude. “Thank you,” he choked, trying not to let the tears of relief fall.

She nuzzled and pet his hair, shushing him gently. “You’re welcome, Beloved, but there’s no thanks necessary.”

He melted into her embrace, purring softly as she ran her fingers through his hair. He lay there for nearly a minute, soaking up her affection before a thought popped into his head, and he hastily pushed himself up to look at her.

She jumped, startled by his sudden movement.

“Sorry,” he rushed to explain. “It just occurred to me that you might still be…” A scarlet blush leaked out from under his mask. “…uh…uncomfortable. Sorry. It’s not like with guys where there’s a fairly clear physical indicator, so…” His cheeks turned redder. “What do you need?”

After setting aside how mortified she felt, Marinette decided that she was touched that he cared and had thought to ask.

She was still a little riled up, and the prospect of them doing something about that… She was completely in favour. But she could tell he wasn’t comfortable. He wasn’t ready.

“Sorry,” he added before she could reply, averting his eyes as his blush spread down his neck and disappeared under the collar of his suit. “I have literally zero experience with this. I don’t know how this works for girls. I mean, I’ve seen anatomy drawings before, but—”

“—You don’t have to apologize,” she assured, scratching behind his ear. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking. That means a lot to me. I just…need to calm down,” she explained.

“Oh,” he sighed in relief, giving her a nervous smile. “Good.”

There was a beat, and then she gave into her curiosity and asked, “Your parents didn’t ever have ‘the talk’ with you, did they?”

He groaned, looking away as he replied in a resentful mutter, “When I was twelve, they pretty much just threw a book at me, and when I tried to ask questions, Maman told me to talk to my father, but Father was busy, so he kind of gave me the brush off, so…” He shook his head, looking miserable. “I kind of got the impression that sex was gross but you had to do it if you wanted to have children, so people went along with it. But then at school when everyone talked about it, it was clear that it was something they wanted and looked forward to and weren’t weirded out by, so…”

He rested his head on the pillow, his face against her arm, and she could feel his tears.

“I mean…I’ve always been different from other people my age thanks to my upbringing. This was just one more thing about me that was…b-broken.” His voice cracked, and the tears of humiliation and regret began to fall faster.

She wrapped her arms around him again, pulling him back in and just holding him.

“I just kept my mouth shut unless someone asked me why I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. I’ve used pretty much every excuse. I’ve said I was religious, I wanted to wait for marriage so it’d be special, that I’d been touched inappropriately by fans trying to rip my clothes off so I was traumatized, I hadn’t found the right person yet, I had found the right person but she wanted to wait, fears about getting someone pregnant, concern about scandal…I said whatever I had to say to make it socially acceptable for me to still be a virgin. Some people still gave me trouble and called me a prude, but…”

“…When did you find out about being asexual?” she inquired gently.

“About a year ago, I guess?” he mumbled against her skin. “You know Luka Couffaine?”

Marinette blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”

“We’re friends,” Chat explained. “We’ve grown closer over the past two years. You know how some people are, like, the ‘mom-friend’ of the group?”

She nodded.

“Luka’s totally a mom-friend,” he chuckled. “I don’t have people I can talk to at home, but I can talk to Luka. He’s kind of adopted me, so… So, I was telling Luka about something a coworker said about me being a virgin that bothered me, and Luka told me about asexual people…and it just clicked. Things made sense.”

Marinette gave him a squeeze. “I’m really glad you had Luka there for you and were able to figure things out.”

“Me too,” Chat hummed, tears drying. “…Thanks for listening to me talk.”

“Thank you for talking to me,” she countered. “Seriously, Minou. Even though I can’t know your identity, I still want to know everything I can about you. I want to know all the important things, so…please tell me. …If you feel comfortable, that is.”

Slowly, he began to nod. “Okay. I…I’m glad you want to know, that you’re interested in my life.”

“I’m definitely interested,” she laughed, and he chuckled along until they fell into a comfortable silence.

It was a while before Chat Noir spoke again. “…Hey. We’re okay, aren’t we? Things are all right between us?”

He lifted his head to study her face intently.

“Of course,” she hastened to assure, surprised that he’d had any doubt. “I love you, Chat Noir. I’m not upset about the Adrien thing, and it didn’t sound like you were mad at me either, so…I think we’re all right. Do you?”

“Yeah,” he sighed happily. “It’s like a weight off my back finally talking to you about the Adrien thing.”

She bit her lip and reluctantly asked, “So…what exactly are we going to do about the Adrien thing?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “Nothing?”

She blinked, repeating, “‘Nothing’?”

“I’m okay if you keep seeing him,” he clarified. “I know you really do have feelings for him, and I know that he’s crazy in love with you, so…”

Marinette stared at her boyfriend, waiting for his words to suddenly make sense. “You’re okay if I keep cheating on you?”

“It’s not cheating if I say it’s okay,” he rebutted. “Anyone else is off limits, but Adrien is okay.”

She kept staring, not comprehending. “You really don’t mind?”

He winced. “So…I mean…I know it’s not exactly orthodox, but…people can have feelings for more than one person at a time, and there’s nothing wrong with that so long as everyone agrees and keeps on the same page.”

Marinette pressed her lips together into a thin, tight line. “…Chat Noir, there’s a difference between having feelings for two people and making out with two people.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Have you ever heard of polyamory?”

“Vaguely?” She waited for him to go on.

“It’s when a group of people sit down and talk and decide to be in a committed relationship involving more than two people,” Chat tried his best to explain, trying to recall how Luka had described it to him. “You have to talk a lot and set ground rules so no one feels left out or neglected or jealous, but… It’s not cheating because everyone agrees about what they’re going to do and what they’re not going to do, so…”

“You’re…suggesting that I date both you and Adrien at the same time?” she summarized, still trying to wrap her head around the idea.

He nodded eagerly. “That way you never have to feel guilty about anything you do with him, and I won’t have to feel guilty either because he’ll be our boyfriend, so it’ll be okay.”

She gave a start. “You’re going to date him too?”

Chat shrugged. “Sure. If he’s interested. I mean, things between us aren’t exactly…you know…like that, but… Is that okay?”

She thought about it for a moment, reasoning that two asexual guys weren’t going to get up to too much she needed to be concerned with and that it wasn’t like Chat Noir was in love with Adrien or anything, so it wasn’t like he was going to leave her, so…

“Okay.” She started to nod. “Yeah. Okay. So…Adrien and I start dating for real, you and I keep dating, and…that’s it?”

“Yep,” he agreed. “Just don’t leave me for him, okay?”

“Oh, Chat Noir,” she cooed, pulling him in for a smooch. “The whole reason we’re in this mess in the first place is that I can’t imagine my life without either one of you. I couldn’t choose…and I don’t foresee that changing anytime soon.”

“Oh,” he hummed contentedly, savoring the cozy warmth of the moment and her words. “Good.”

“Besides,” she snickered. “I am ticked at him. I can’t believe he told you.”

“Princess,” Chat groaned. “Please don’t. He did it because he loves you and couldn’t bear to see you suffering anymore.”

“And that that slut seduced my boyfriend,” she giggled.

“…You’re joking, right?” He couldn’t quite be sure. “The last thing I wanted was to ruin your friendship with Adrien, Marinette.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured. “I’m mostly joking. I am upset with him, but…he’s too important to me to lose.”

Chat’s heart swelled with happiness at knowing that he was so special to her on both sides of the mask.

“I just need to yell at him, talk it out, get it out of my system,” she sighed, “…apologize, beg for forgiveness, make him hummingbird cake pops… Things between me and Adrien are going to be all right, Chat Noir, so don’t worry. I’m through screwing things up.”

“I love you,” he whispered, unable to contain the large grin of adoration that broke out on his lips.

“Love you too.” She punctuated the sentiment with a kiss.

[pocket-clown]

Arthur learning that his S/O is pregnant may include;

// original request: Hi, I have a request. Can you do "Arthur learn that you are pregnant" (excuse me if this is NSFW idk) I like your blog by the way ;)

Not NSFW at all, thank you for the request anon!! I know jack about pregnancy so I had to Google things like symptoms and whatnot so I apologize for any inaccuracies :-))

Obvious content warning for pregnancy, symptoms of pregnancy, minor angst.

His face is unreadable, the second he hears the news. 

You’d spent the last month and a half or so battling an array of symptoms; at first, it was nothing more than noticing that your period never came when it was supposed to - something you initially shrugged off because hey, it wasn’t always regular. 

But then you started feeling tired. Not just sleepy, but as if you were perpetually fatigued, regardless of how much sleep you got. Even if you spent the day lounging around the apartment and resting in bed, it was like it took every ounce of energy and drive that you had to get yourself going at times, and you felt that you could’ve slept for hours, had it not been for the responsibilities and obligations that an adult life came with. 

It was then, about four weeks after your missed period that you woke up sometime around 1:20 in the morning with some of the worst nausea that you had ever experienced, just barely making it to the restroom in time. Arthur had been by your side the entire time, and he practically pleaded for you to go to the doctor - it was flu season, after all - but in the back of your mind, something was nagging at you, telling you that something more was going on.

So the next day, on your commute home from work you made a stop at Helm’s Pharmacy. Arthur had a prescription that was ready to be picked up and you figured that it would save him some time for you to just get it yourself, but you also grabbed a few of the best pregnancy tests that your small amount of cash could afford, praying that the pharmacist wouldn’t mention it the next time you came in with Arthur.

Once you had actually tested yourself, the double bars on each of the four tests confirming your suspicions, you felt your heart stop. 

How was Arthur going to react? You two certainly had talked about having children before, and he was receptive to the idea - he even seemed excited about it - but those late night conversations and discussions were always in the future tense, when the two of you were better off financially, and maybe even out of Gotham. 

The fact that you weren't sure how Arthur would react coupled with knowing that you two may not even be able to support a child at the time kept you from telling him for about a week, and once you finally broke the news to him you didn’t even bother trying to beat around the bush. 

“Arthur, I’m pregnant.” You’d said out of the blue while the two of you were cuddled up on the couch during one of Murray’s commercial breaks. His hand, which had been combing through your hair as you rested your head on his shoulder, stopped, and you could feel his breath hitch. When you’d looked up at him, you saw that his dark brows were furrowed ever so slightly, and it seemed like he was almost confused about what you had just said - or like he didn’t understand.

“Are… really?” He asked after a moment, his voice not above a soft whisper. It took him a second, but after a moment he was able to pry his eyes away from the television to turn and look you in your own; searching for anything to indicate if you were just joking around, or if you were actually serious.

“Remember how I started feeling really sick a bit ago? I took a few tests a few days ago, and... they were all positive.” You said, moving your hand to sweep away the tuft of hair that had fallen across his forehead. 

Arthur’s lack of response was nothing short of concerning to you, and for a moment you thought that he was upset, or even angry, with you. His green eyes were flitting all over the room, seemingly unable to focus on anything as his mind tried to fully process what you had just told him.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Arthur wasn’t mad - he wasn’t even upset. What he was, though, was frightened; though yes, the thought of having a child with you filled his heart with the kind of warm love he never in his life thought he’d get to experience, it was also one of the most freighted, daunting ones to ever cross his mind. He often wondered if he’d even make a remotely good father - something you’d always assure him that he would - but he still had his doubts; with all of his struggles - his condition, his mental illnesses, and his own lack of a father figure, to name a few - the last thing Arthur wanted was to end up a poor excuse for a father. His mind was running a million miles a second, and if it wasn’t for the soft touch of your hand brushing against his cheek, he would’ve sat in the same spot for the rest of the night as his mind forced him to go over every single worst case scenario it could possibly come up with.

“Arthur? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I upset you, I meant to tell you sooner but -”

“Upset? Sweetheart, why would I be upset with you about this…?” He asked, and you hadn’t any idea that he had been trembling until his hands came to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could pull you close enough so he could rest his forehead against your own. “Are you sure it’s me you want to have a baby with…?”

You knew that his question was rhetorical; it wasn’t uncommon for Arthur to agonize over his anxieties and fears regarding the relationship, questioning if you really were 100% completely and utterly sure that you wanted to be with him, of all people. He’d worry that he was completely imagining you and your voice and your touch, or that he’d somehow tricked you into being with him, even - but each and every anxiety was hushed with kisses from you. Though you knew that you couldn’t do or say anything to completely rid Arthur of said anxieties and worries, so ingrained within him were they, you did everything you could to be there for him whenever they came to surface and needed dealing with.

“Yes! And I mean it, Arthur - I want this - and I want it with you.” You said, and he hummed in response, his forehead still against yours as his thumbs stroked the backs of your hands as he held them in his own

“I’ll work harder - For us.” He spoke after a minute of silence, and his arms came to wrap around you, pulling you tightly against him. 

It’s then, with you in his arms, that the reality of the situation really hits Arthur and he can’t stop himself from tearing up. He was scared, and so were you; you’d both have to work extra hours (you, for as long as you could, until you were too far along), neither of you have ever had children before, and the weight of knowing that you’d soon be supporting one, as well eventually need a larger residence, the costs, the fact that you’d have another life in your hands - it was all so, so much to deal with that neither of you could stop yourselves from shedding tears. 

But you were together, and the two of you had made it through a lot together, already.

This sweet, attentive man always makes sure you’re as comfortable as possible. 

If you thought that his fretting about you in the past was over the top, get ready because now he rarely ever leaves your side. 

As the months go by and your tummy gets bigger, Arthur loves to rest his hands against it, his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your shirt so he can feel your skin. If you’re subtle about it, late at night during those nights you can’t sleep, sometimes you can catch him talking ever so gently and so sweetly to you and your unborn child, unaware that you’re awake. He goes on about how much he loves you, how you love him, how he loves the baby, how you love the baby, how soon you’ll be a family. He talks about everything he’s going to do with the two of you, what he wants to do, his hopes, his fears - all of it. Whether the soft, shaky tone of his voice is from his tender, sleep deprived state or if he’s quietly crying from the sheer, overwhelming amount of love, fear, excitement, and utter disbelief he feels you don’t know, but what you do know is that his words are genuine.

He goes with you to every single doctor’s appointment that you have; every single check up, every single exam, everything. Even if you’re not far along enough that it’s tough to get around, he still insists that you sit and rest so he can take care of chores around the apartment. He tries his hardest to improve his cooking skills, preferring that you eat as best as you can so that you’re as healthy as possible - he doesn’t want you falling ill. He keeps his smoking away from you, as well; he’ll literally leave the apartment, regardless of what time of day it is, to smoke outside so you aren’t exposed to it. He doesn’t want to put you or the baby at any sort of risk. 

You two will have to console each other very frequently. Arthur, at times, has trouble fully coming to terms with what’s going on; never in his life did he ever expect he’d have a child with someone (nor did he think he’d even have a successful relationship), and the weight of the situation tends to wear down on his already fragile mental state at times. Lots of reassurance that everything will be okay, that he is capable of being a good father, that you’ll be by his side, that there are resources that can help the two of you if you need it, and so on, will be needed. 

Regardless of whether it’s hormones, your own fears and anxieties, tears of excitement, whatever it is, he’s by your side whenever you need him to be. You’re in tears because your craving for that very specific type of donut from a market that’s halfway across Gotham is so strong? He’s putting on his shoes, fully prepared to go out and get it for you, despite it being 11 at night and pouring rain. You’re scared because you’re wondering how capable of a mother you’ll be, and if the child will even love you? Your face is cupped in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he tells you that he knows you; he sees how strong and how loving you are in your day to day life, and there’s not a single doubt in his mind regarding how wonderfully you’ll do as a mother. 

There’s absolutely no denying that it’s a tough time for the two of you, but the two of you make it work. 

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