#i just like to look put together and arrange my outfits carefully around whatever theme i've chosen that day

[gideonisms]

Sometimes I wish I would like put on an outfit or be in a scenario or hear a pronoun and think to myself oh yeah THAT'S the right one like it seems like other people are feeling this sense of self I just don't have. I kind of just feel out of place no matter where I am or what I wear or how I present myself, not really in a bad way, just like, I'm a tourist here (everywhere)

[milknette]

day 30 - roommates

promise me you’ll stay, beyond the sunrise.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

i.

MARINETTE doesn't know how he got her address.

She'd only moved in that day, after a haphazard decision to do so for independence and freedom in her own work. (Though the whole Ladybug-and-unexplained-disappearances thing when living her parents was a huge factor, too.)

Scratch that, it's probably the onlyfactor.

If it weren't for her parents' growing suspicion and concern due to her heroic escapades, Marinette would still choose to stay at home and with them; or at the very least, stay nearby.

She had to move a good distance away— a bus ride or so, in order to rationalize with her parents why she had to move out. ("But why do you have to leave?" "Moving would be easier for me to do my work! It cuts down on transportation time a lot.")

Never mind that as Ladybug, she can move from one side of Paris to another in mere minutes.

The apartment itself is quite modest, with enough space for her to live comfortably (but not much for anything else). Nino, Alya, and Adrien had helped her move in all her stuff, though quite a few were still left untouched inside their boxes.

It's more a reflection of Marinette's need for privacy than their helpfulness as friends, though— since a hefty amount of the items in those containers hold her carefully-curated collection of Adrien Agreste collectibles, limited edition items, and posters.

So. Many. Posters.

(It's been years, but her crush on him has only grown all the more intensely. She's grown out of her stuttering phase, fortunately, but the butterflies in her stomach don't fade, either.)

Exhaustedly, Marinette lies on her mattress.

They only left an hour ago… is it okay to miss them this much?

She's not accustomed to the quiet, especially with the bustling energy of her family and the customers that arrive for their daily dose of caffeine in the early mornings. The lack of aromatic scents of freshly-baked breads and desserts as she lays down is a stark reminder that she's not home anymore.

Marinette sighs to herself.

Maybe she's lonely.

Just a little bit.

It's in that exact moment someone comes knocking on her balcony door. The balcony is a good amount smaller than the one she had at home, only really enough for a few plants and one person—

Or one disguised cat-themed hero.

His smile's bright as she pushes away the curtain and opens the sliding door.

Chat Noir doesn't even wait for a verbal invitation; he walks inside, looking around in wonder.

"Wow, you've already unpacked a lot," he starts, noticing her sewing machine set up on a desk nearby. "You already took it out?"

An eyebrow raised. "Yeah… why?"

"I thought you were setting up your sewing area last," he starts, before absurdly coughing to himself at her suspicious glance. "I mean, considering that it's the only one without a designated space… I thought you'd do everything else first, because it's common sense, right?"

Hmmm.

"That was the original plan," she finally admits. "But I have commissions to work on, so I decided to keep it there. Temporarily, at the very least." Chat Noir nods, before Marinette gestures at him. "So… how did you find out about here?"

"What do you mean?"

"My apartment?" She asks, leaning upon the door frame. "I don't recall telling you where I was moving."

"Oh…," he pauses, sifting through her boxes. "Uh, superhero, remember? Ladybug and I make it a point to know where everybody is at all times. To protect the citizens of Paris and all that!"

Well, that's not even the slightest bit true, but it's not as if Marinette can rebuff him.

So, she nods in fake understanding instead and shrugs.

"That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though?"

Chat Noir smiles. "I figured that you'd meowss the company. You moved pretty far from your friends." He sounds almost sad at that revelation, and Marinette almost feels sorry.

(What would he be so sad for? It's not like she moved far away from him.

Though she wouldn't really know, if she did.)

"Well, I can't say that I don't appreciate you showing up." She smiles, eyes bright.

It's a sweet moment.

Until:

"You can help me unpack everything else."

(They spend the rest of the night unpacking things, but Marinette insists that one box be left alone. When Chat Noir accidentally sees a peak of an all-too-familiar model's poster flap out from its cover…

he thankfully decides against mentioning it.)

.

.

ii.

Chat Noir makes it a point to regularly stop by her apartment.

(Even at times he should be busy and on patrol— though more often than not, Marinette can't find it in herself to be angry at him.)

She still doesn't see her friends and family that often, but being with him, she finds, lessens the loneliness a lot; to the point that she finds herself more fulfilled, if anything.

At first, she figured that he'd get tired of him— seeing him both as Ladybug and Marinette, and so often, but it's the complete opposite. They talk about and do everything together, with her learning so much more about him than she'd ever expected to.

If anything, Chat Noir is good and fun company, even though she'll never admit it to his face.

It's a few months into their arrangement of random meetings when Marinette makes the mistake of going to her apartment straight home as Ladybug.

"… milady? What are you doing here?"

She pauses as she reaches for the balcony door, belatedly noticing that Chat Noir follows right after her. He's perched on the balcony railings, staring at her with confusion and almost suspicion.

Oops.

"Chat?! What are you doing here?" She points at him accusingly, almost stumbling backward. "I thought you said you were going straight home after the akuma!"

"Yeah…," he starts, eyebrows knitting together. "But I always stop by Marinette's to check on her if she's doing okay. She just moved away recently, and I just want to make sure she doesn't feel lonely or sad or anything." He pauses, realizing how his statement may sound. "I mean, speaking as a superhero, you know… I can't risk her getting akumatized! Especially since she's Multimouse and all…"

"That's actually… pretty sweet of you Chat."

He smiles softly, before suddenly narrowing his eyes. "That doesn't explain what you're doing here, though?"

She halts, evidently caught off-guard. "I— uh—"

"Ladybug… visiting Marinette… in her apartment… that means…"

"Wait, don't connect the dots—"

"Marinette's planning a surprise for me!"

"I'm not—

Wait. What?"

She's never seen Chat Noir look so excited.

"I knew she was planning something for me! You know, last time I came over, we were talking about birthdays, and I told her it was some time around this month… is that what the two of you were planning all this time? Ack, this is pawsitvely exciting my tails on end!"

Ladybug wonders how he can be so smart but so dumb at the same time.

(Well, whatever the case— it works out well for her.)

Ladybug smiles. "You know I can' tell you that!" Her voice is a notch higher than usual, as she playfully and awkwardly punches his shoulder. "… pal! Now go home and let us plan your surprise, okay?"

"Can I get a hint?!"

"Uh. Cats." She stops, almost similar to the way a robot would if they were to malfunction. "Yup. Cats. Like you. Now that's all!"

She pushes at him, before he finally relents and leaves the balcony.

The next day, Chat Noir comes to Marinette's apartment, and sees his surprise:

A cat-themed party.

Marinette looks absolutely exhausted, but seeing Chat Noir's bright smile— she doesn't quite mind it.

"Happy birthday, kitty: however old you are, and whenever your birthday really is!"

They spend the rest of the night celebrating together.

(Adrien's birthday happens a week later, and she's surprised to find out that he wants to spend it treating her out, just the two of them. She wonders why he doesn't want a birthday party, and he explains that he already had one— and nothing could top how perfect it was.

They spend the day going around together, and end it as he drops her off at her apartment. Alya and Nino insist it's a date.

Marinette vaguely wonders to herself if it was.)

.

.

iii.

Chat Noir stops by when Adrien doesn't.

Marinette rereads the text over and over again:

I'm so, so, sorry, Mari. My dad's not letting me out until I finish all the work I do. Let's hang out another time, okay? Miss you, Alya, and Nino a lot!

She sighs, walking over to turn off the oven. The scent of passionfruit macarons makes their way around the apartment, as she carefully puts them into a container. Her outfit, a nicely-fitted red dress— the one Alya calls the first date dress, shines in the room light.

It's a strong inner debate as to whether Marinette should call her friends, but she ultimately decides against it.

(It'd be mean to burst into their lives with last-minute plans, and she especially doesn't want to disappoint them with the news that her dinner-with-Adrien-and-confess-your-love plan had failed spectacularly— before she could even do anything about it.

Marinette figures that she'll just disappoint them later on.)

She raises the container of sweets to her face. "So, what should I do with this…?"

"I'd like to try them."

She almost drops the macarons as a sudden voice bounces off the walls, clutching her heart in evident surprise. "Chat? What the heck, don't scare me like that! How long were you standing there?"

He looks almost sheepish. "A few minutes… I tried knocking, but you seemed so distracted in your thoughts so I just came in." His expression turns concerned. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs. "Just a little upset, but nothing new, really."

"I'm sorry."

Marinette shakes her head. "What are you sorry for? It's not your fault." She sighs to herself, before offering the container to him. "Anyway, do you want to try this? I'm not sure if you'll like it because it's passionfruit, but…"

"Are you kidding me, I love passionfruit! It's my favorite flavor!"

He beams, before quickly taking a bite of the snack, and breathing dreamily to himself. "These taste amazing." Then, a pause. "But are you sure I should eat this? Didn't you make it for someone?"

Marinette laughs softly, then walks over to sit on the couch, gesturing for him to come next to him.

"Chat, do you love anyone?"

The question is upfront and straightforward, and he's evidently surprised by it.

After the initial shock, though, he smiles to himself. "Of course I do. She's the purrfect girl, andI think about her a lot more than I should," he says, staring at her for a good moment.

Marinette doesn't know how to describe how his stare makes her feel.

"I love someone too," she finally admits.

The words hang in the air, and Chat Noir doesn't know what to say.

"He's a lucky guy," he finally breathes, a sad look in his eyes.

"You'd think," she laughs to herself, almost bitterly. "But I don't think he feels the same way, or if he ever will."

"What do you mean— who wouldn't fall in love with you?! You're kind, and sweet, and pretty on a regular day but tonight you're absolutely stunning…"

"Haha, thanks kitty," she mutters, before holding on to her dress. "I even dressed up for him today…"

A quiet pause.

"Wait… the guy you were supposed to meet today is the one you're in love with?'

She nods silently. "Adrien Agreste. He's a good friend of mine, it's just that my feelings are something so much more than that…"

Marinette isn't looking at him directly, so she's surprised to notice him abruptly stand up.

"Sorry, I have to go."

"Chat? I'm sorry if this was too much but…"

"I'll see you around, Marinette."

It's the lack of a playful nickname that gets her.

Almost frozen, she somehow manages to nod.

And Chat Noir disappears into the night.

.

.

iv.

The next time they patrol, Chat Noir tells Ladybug they need to talk.

"Are you sure I can't reveal my true identity to anyone?"

Her answer is instantaneous. "Of course. It's too risky." She pauses, then almost careful: "Why do you ask?"

(Things have become more awkward since the last time Chat Noir went to her apartment; when he just left her without explanation and stopped showing up completely. They still meet as heroes, but it's become much more strained since then.)

He sighs to himself. "It's just… I'm in love." Chat Noir pauses, then immediately backtracks. "Not with you, of course. Not anymore. I respect that you love someone else, and I've finally fallen for someone different. And I don't want to reveal too much but… she loves me back."

Marinette feels happy for him, of course, but can't quite explain why her stomach churns uncomfortably at the idea of him being in love with someone else.

"Then, what's the problem?"

He laughs bitterly to himself. "She fell for my civilian identity."

Oh.

"So you want her to know you're the same person?"

Chat Noir pauses for a moment, as if in thought, then shakes his head. "No," he finally says. "I just want to be sure she loves the entire me, and not just the perfect character I keep up in real life. I want her to fall in love with Chat Noir, too. Because this identity's just as much a part of me as Adr— as my civilian self is."

Silence, again.

"As a superhero and the Guardian, I cannot stress the importance of keeping your identity secret. Even if it is someone you love." He winces, and she presses on. "But as your friend, I want you to be happy, kitty. So, do what you must." She smiles at him. "I know you'll do what's right."

The superhero smiles back, then abruptly gets up.

"Then if you don't mind, milady… I have somewhere to be."

By the time Chat Noir arrives at Marinette's apartment, she's already home.

"What are you doing here, Chat?"

"… for two things. Do you mind if I come in?"

She doesn't exactly willing to do so, but lets him in anyway.

"The first part is an apology." He looks at her, evidently ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry I just left like that back then. I shouldn't have left without an explanation, and it was one of the worst things I've ever done. I'm so sorry."

"As you should be," she only says, before sighing to herself. "And the second part?"

"An explanation."

"Better keep it short."

"I can summarize it in three words."

She looks up at him, suddenly intrigued. "Which is?"

"I love you."

(The dots connect themselves even without Marinette willing them to, and she catches on before Chat Noir even realizes the situation they're in.

Knowing about her address, his birthday celebrations, his love for passionfruit, the mysterious person he was in love with—is in love with, and his abrupt disappearance after her confession…

How did she not realize it before?)

The faces of two people Marinette love dearly start blending into one.

She never knew it would be possible to feel so much for one person.

Marinette starts laughing, tears in her eyes, as everything becomes that much clearer.

She smiles.

"I love you too—

Adrien."

(He almost falls off the balcony.

Fortunately, however— this time there's somebody around to catch him.)

.

.

v.

He knocks on the correct door, this time around.

And with him, a ton of boxes and containers that tower almost menacingly around his figure.

"Sorry I had to use this door," he starts. "But my stuff wouldn't fit through the balcony."

Marinette laughs, before putting her hands to fold in front of her chest.

"That's a lot of boxes," she observes. "I don't recall you having that much of a problem with my stuff back then."

"That's because I only stayed the night."

"And now?"

He smiles, then presses a sudden kiss to her lips.

"Hopefully, I'm staying the rest of my life."

She huffs at the sudden surprise, then smiles back softly.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that."

[zenonaa]

Shared Activity

Fashion galas weren’t really Aoi’s thing. Swimming galas, yes, but while she appreciated the fashion gala that she had been invited to was to raise money for charity, as she examined her reflection in her bedroom’s full mirror, she thought she would feel more at ease in a swimsuit than a sparkling beaded mermaid gown with a high halter neckline and tulle skirt that hid her high heels from view. Her outfit was certainly pretty, but as Aoi lifted her head, she steadied herself even though in actuality she hadn’t been wobbling. It just felt that way.

Aoi breathed in and turned away from the mirror. All that was left to do now was her makeup, though Aoi wouldn’t be the one applying it to herself. That duty belonged to her girlfriend, Sakura. She walked over to the vanity, where Sakura was getting everything ready, and craned her neck curiously.

A makeup bag rested on the vanity desk, and peeking into it, Aoi didn’t recognise half the contents and that was being generous. Sakura reached in and rummaged through it.

“What’s that?” asked Aoi as Sakura took out a small, circular tub. “Face scrub?”

“Makeup primer,” corrected Sakura, holding it in one hand with her fingers spread. “It’s a jelly that you apply to your skin which causes the makeup to sink in so it’s less cakey.”

The mentions of ‘jelly’ and ‘cake’ grabbed Aoi’s attention, but then her shoulders wilted.

“Aw, I like cake,” said Aoi with a pout. Sakura grinned.

“I know. We can buy on one the way back from the gala,” said Sakura.

Aoi twitched her head up and balled her hands into fists below her chin. “Or bake one...?”

A hopeful note hung off the end of her tongue.

“Or bake one,” said Sakura warmly. She unscrewed the lid off the tub and smeared some of its jelly onto her fingers. “Please sit down, and we will get to work.”

As requested, Aoi seated herself on the chair by the vanity, facing away from its mirror and toward Sakura. Aoi wrinkled her nose and Sakura pressed the cool jelly against her face. Sakura massaged it in, and once that was done, Sakura cleaned her fingers with a wipe and delved her hand into the makeup bag. Its contents clacked together while Sakura sorted through it for what she needed next.

“What are you searching for?” asked Aoi, sitting with her hands cupping her knees.

“Foundation and concealer,” said Sakura. She pulled out a tube that Aoi squinted at.

“Isn’t that lipstick?” said Aoi.

“This is the concealer,” explained Sakura. “The container is similar though, so at a glance, they do appear the same.”

“Oh...” Aoi eyed it, then flashed Sakura a smile. “You’re so smart, Sakura-chan. I’d probably have smooshed it all over my lips without reading it first.”

Laughter shook Aoi’s shoulders as she rubbed the back of her neck, showing a lot of teeth. Sakura smiled and retrieved a small bottle of foundation from her bag. She squirted it onto an egg-shaped sponge, then pressed it against Aoi’s nose, eyes, and forehead, blending it in with little repetitive taps. It smelled faintly like paint. The sponge hopped over to Aoi’s jawline too, but Sakura only dabbed a light layer of foundation there.

Next, Sakura used the concealer under Aoi’s eyes, a shade lighter than the foundation, and she applied a little to Aoi’s eyelids.

“What’s next?” asked Aoi, once Sakura clicked the lid back onto the concealer tube.

“Eyeshadow,” said Sakura. She carefully extracted a tray of different colours. “Which do you want?”

Aoi’s lips contorted as she surveyed them. Circles of different shades covered the tray. Some were dull, but others were vibrant. They sat cosily in the black tray, uniformly arranged.

“What do you recommend?” asked Aoi, still studying them.

“Whatever you want,” replied Sakura. Aoi frowned and folded her arms over her chest. Her head tilted to one side in thought.

“... Plain is pretty boring.” remarked Aoi, gently pursing her lips. “Like, I don’t want to look like a photoshopped version of myself. So if I’m going to wear makeup, I want it to be arty. I want something bold. Blue and bold. The theme is mythical, so why not, right?”

Her eyes sought Sakura’s pair. Sakura bobbed her head and put the tray down.

“I have eye glitter,” said Sakura.

“For my eyes?”

“Eyelids.”

Aoi gasped, clasping her hands tightly. The corners of her lips shot up. “Yes, please! That sounds perfect.”

Sakura got to work, applying a special primer to Aoi’s eyelids as well as a gradient of blue and green eyeshadow, and then, with a soft, dampened brush, she gently stroked blue glitter across Aoi’s eyelids. After that, Sakura used a pencil eyeliner, and Aoi struggled to keep still as Sakura drew a smoky outline onto her.

“I’m nearly done,” Sakura promised. Aoi tried to stop her eyelids quivering so much with little success. All this sitting around had her squirming, but Sakura didn’t complain.

The rest of the makeup application was easier to sit through. Blush. Highlighter. Contour. Sakura gave Aoi bright blue lips, then she set it all with powder and spray. Finally, Sakura used mascara on her, and with that done, she stepped back and graced Aoi with one of her small but radiant smiles.

“You’re finished,” said Sakura. Aoi turned to the mirror on the vanity and widened her eyes.

“Oh, wow! I look magical,” gushed Aoi, barely resisting the temptation to touch her face to make sure it was really hers. She dug her nails into her palms and leaned closer to the mirror, holding her breath and inspecting her reflection in silence for a while. Sakura waited patiently, perfectly content with admiring Aoi from where she stood nearby.

Time continued to pass, as slowly as it seemed to. The light on the television flickered. The fan blowing out air still shook its head from side to side. Aoi had to tear her gaze away from her reflection and looked at Sakura with bright eyes.

“Thank you so much,” said Aoi. She winced a little. “Sorry if I took up too much time. You still have time to do your makeup, right?”

“Plenty,” Sakura assured her. “I generally don’t use much.”

“Some time, could you teach me? I’d love to do it for you.”

“You can do it now,” offered Sakura, prompting Aoi to jerk her head back.

“Really? Aren’t you worried I’ll mess up?” asked Aoi. She averted her gaze, grimacing slightly. “I’ve never really done it before... it’s like everyone’s in on a secret except me.”

Sakura stretched out a smile and gave a nod. “It’s fine. It would make me happy.”

That was incentive enough. Aoi and Sakura swapped places, so Sakura sat on the chair and Aoi stood beside her. Sakura stooped her head a little, hands folded on her lap.

“Let’s see...” The contents of the bag clattered as Aoi sifted through the makeup bag. She held up something pencil-shaped and cocked her head. “Eyeliner?”

“Brow pencil.”

“You didn’t use that on me,” said Aoi, turning it over in her hands.

“I don’t think you need it, dear,” explained Sakura. “I must admit that I sometimes impulse buy makeup products mentioned in my magazines.”

“Like me and donuts!” Aoi gave a good-natured giggle and put it back. She rifled through the bag again. “Right, so foundation first...?”

“Primer.”

“Oh! Yes!”

Aoi found the foundation. She stopped and started a lot as Sakura talked her through each step. Eventually, they were done, and both women regarded their reflections together.

Sakura’s palette had the warm hues of a fire, which went with her black dress. While Aoi’s sequins helped make her dress resemble that of the tail of a mermaid, Sakura’s dress was embroidered so that the texture looked like the scales of a dragon, and the bottom edge of her dress was frayed, like wisps of smoke. Aoi grabbed Sakura’s hand and squeezed firmly, tugging her off her seat.

“Let’s go!” Aoi said. “Hey, do you think the gala will have cakes? Or donuts?”

“We’ll get some after if they don’t,” said Sakura, and Aoi beamed.

“I love you, Sakura-chan!” Aoi pecked her cheek, and holding hands, they left their apartment together. The press would be bloated with photographs from the event, but spending it with Sakura, Aoi wouldn’t need them to remember their time there together.

Also the donuts they got afterwards were delicious.

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 31

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          At precisely six there was a knock on Harry’s door, and Harry looked up from where he was tying his tie to the reflection of the door as it opened. Eggsy came through softly, stepped carefully over the haphazard piles of discarded clothing because of course the great gentleman Harry Hart was secretly a mess of a human being. It was one of the many things he loved about the man- another of which being how secretly sentimental he was. And, going by the way he was dressed, the two of them were of the same mind when it came to this evening.

           ‘Y’ready to go, Professor?’ Harry finished arranging tie and began to button up the waistcoat, his getup a familiar shade of brown, and smiled at Eggsy in the mirror.

           ‘Just about, Mister Doolittle.’ Eggsy flushed at being caught out, despite already having caught Harry at the same thing, but simply shrugged in reply. His dark green coat and red scarf were left loose and open, he’d left his hair a bit more messy than organised, and he’d worn an older pair of khakis. Eggsy thought the look was complete as it was, but Harry had other ideas- he ventured into his closet and emerged with a pair of hats. Harry placed the brown fedora upon his own head before lightly tossing the flat black hat toward Eggsy like a frisbee, who caught it easily before putting it on. Catching a look at himself in the mirror, Eggsy frowned and shook his head.

           ‘You look brilliant, Harry, but this hat just… it don’t work for me.’ Eggsy flipped it between his hands before throwing it back to Harry, who smiled softly before putting it away and tossing something else from the closet in Eggsy’s direction. He caught it, and grinned to himself as he pulled it onto his head. ‘Much better.’ The black snapback (why did Harry have such a thing hidden in his closet? He couldn't picture the man wearing one himself) could have taken away from the outfit, but the ease with which Eggsy carried himself made it work.

           Confidence, after all, is half of fashion. But, their amusement and mutually intentionally themed clothing aside, the pair were ready for their excursion. Harry offered his arm, and together they walked from the house to the restaurant- heads ducked intimately toward one another as they conversed along the way. They were greeted with familiarity by the woman at the counter and took their usual table against the wall, Eggsy refusing to sit before Harry had as some sort of bid to even their playing field. Neither of them were allowed to be the gentleman who held out the chair for the other- all or nothing. 

           They ate dinner in comfortable almost-silence, feet knocking lightly beneath the table, small smiles gracing both their lips. Eggsy inwardly blamed the flush of his ears on the chill, despite having been inside long enough for the warmth of the room to soak through; and Harry blamed the size of their table for their ankles ending up entangled, despite having sat at the same spot in the same fashion numerous times without it becoming an issue.

           ‘Oh, look, they’ve dressed up and everything!’ The librarian cooed over them as they entered the room, intending to take seats in the back for the convenience of the exit (just in case, mind) before being corralled by various staff to the event display. It was a table with various books and films derived from Pygmalion, which Eggsy impressed Harry by knowing the source material so well, with a small poster of the film they were going to be screening. The group demanded pictures of the two, and though Eggsy scuffed his feet and refused to meet anyone’s gaze, Harry could tell that he was right pleased by their attention- but absolutely not expecting Harry to go along with it.

           And if there was one great joy in Harry Hart’s life, it was doing the unexpected and damning the consequences.

           So with one hand he reeled Eggsy in, and while he had the younger man off-kilter he pulled one hand to his waist and the other held within his own at about shoulder height. He smiled gently at Eggsy, mirth at the corners of his eyes, before beginning a waltz about the table. 

           ‘Come now, Mr. Doolittle, I’m certain that dance is a skill necessary for all gentleman.’ Harry smiled, and Eggsy mentally thanked his gymnast background for helping him not trip over his own two feet. 

           ‘Somehow, Professor Higgins, I don’ think the library’s a proper place for this lesson.’ Eggsy didn’t bother to hide his grin as he successfully managed to match each of Harry’s steps, and neither of them paid mind to the library staff idly filming them. At least, they paid no mind until a polite cough threw off their rhythm, the man letting them know that they were due to actually start the film in about five minutes, and perhaps they’d like a refreshment before settling in? 

           Harry flushed up the back of his neck at having become so wrapped up in the moment, ducked his head and tried to angle the fedora so as to better hide his face, but Eggsy would have none of it and instead pushed the hat back until it sat far back on his head. They intended to sit in the back, no one to worry about ruining the view for, so what point was there in removing their hats? 

           Somehow the scarring on Harry’s eye seemed less tense, and Eggsy was glad for their reprieve. Neither of them knew what to do with proper downtime besides fill it with other tasks- but perhaps this was a good compromise on both their parts. As they took their seats, Eggsy made no move to remove his hand from Harry’s, and set the entwined pair on his lap as he leant into Harry’s side when the opening credits began.

           Both men would swear that they had paid very close attention to the film, but each spent the evening sneaking glances at the other. Midway through the film, Harry tensed as he was struck by the worry that he’d made Eggsy Other to his roots, changed him in such a way that he could no longer relate to his people outside of Kingsman- but as quickly as he had tensed, Eggsy had squeezed his hand. Had turned an inquiring eye to Harry before chuckling to himself and leaning up to Harry’s ear.

           ‘Don’ be an idiot, Harry, you ain’t done nothin’ I didn’t want to do. I could go back to the estates if I wanted- it ain’t like I’ve forgotten how to live like that- but I don’t want to cos you’ve shown me how much more there is. Not cos I don’t know how.’ How he had known where Harry’s mind had gone was anyone’s guess, but somehow the thought was comforting as opposed to terrifying to the secret agent.

           ‘If you say so, dear.’ It was not lost on Eggsy how domestic the statement was, as he settled back into Harry’s side, and he took comfort that the moment had not caused Harry any discomfort. There was no hitch to his breathing or tightening around his eyes or lips, the entire exchange had remained comfortable. The rest of the film passed in silence; though Eggsy caught Harry mouthing along more than once, which brought no small amount of joy to him. Here was a super spy who had seen to the toppling of dark underbellies and the deaths of who knew how many unsavoury sorts singing along to My Fair Lady under his breath. Maybe he was more amused than he ought to have been, but it was something Eggsy was sure no one else had seen (except, maybe, Merlin) and wasn’t that a privilege?

           When the lights came up, and the other people began filing out one of the librarians approached them a bit sheepishly, apologising for filming them earlier without having asked.

           ‘It’s fine- didn’ expect to be recognised, or to end up low dancin’ around a table, but who really knows, y’know?’

           ‘Actually,’ Harry interrupted, ‘I would appreciate being sent a copy, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.’

           ‘Harry, what d’you need a copy of that for?’ Eggsy was as pleased by his request as he was confused; he wouldn’t admit to having slipped a note to one of them asking for a copy before they’d even sat down.

           ‘Well, perhaps I want to prove to Merlin and Roxanne that you’re perfectly able to not trip over your own feet when swept up into a dance.’ The others giggled at them as Eggsy playfully slapped at his chest with one hand before thanking them for their trouble and the screening.

           ‘It was our pleasure, you and your husband are just darling. Wonderful to see people so in love.’ Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Eggsy squeezed the harm still wrapped in his own briefly to cut him off before thanking them again and heading for the exit. They’d barely made it to the corner when Harry stopped suddenly beneath a lamppost, forcing Eggsy to stop beside him.

           ‘Why didn’t you allow me to correct them?’ He looked far more confused than upset, and Eggsy took that as a positive.

           ‘If you told them we wasn’t married, after that show we put on as nothin’ but ourselves, it woulda been awkward. I ain’t ashamed of us an’ how we are with each other, an’ they can think what they like. We know who and what we are to each other, yeah? So who cares ‘bout the rest?’ Eggsy talked his way around the obvious answer with that little white lie snuck between- they’d never actually defined what they were. Which was to Eggsy’s benefit, as he was trying to change the parameters somewhat desperately to be more romantic, but he had a plan damnit.

           ‘I think there’s a bit more to it than that, my dear boy.’

           ‘Ain’t there always?’ It wasn’t an answer, but it was enough for Harry to begin moving again.

[luddyskrimsonbootytrash]

Their Last Case [TEW Fanfic]

Disclaimer: I wrote this story long before the actual game came out and when we didn’t know more of Stefano than one picture and a little entry on the Bethesda website. Also: Sexual Themes and Slight Abuse Warning.

Joseph could barely hold his eyes open. He couldn’t differentiate between reality and dream anymore. Was this the real world? Or another trick?

He coughed and tasted blood in his mouth. Then he heard a voice. A voice that became familiar. Was familiar.

“We’ve big plans for you, Joseph. I bet you will love them.”

He wasn’t able to respond. He could barely breathe.

“Don’t worry. We’ll send you back into STEM immediately. You’ll feel better there.”

Joseph woke up in an empty grey hallway. He sat up moaning and rubbed his head. As he looked down on himself he noticed that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He should search for something to put on…

“My favorite piece of art.” A brunette tall man, wearing a suit and a red scarf, appeared behind him.

“Stefano…” Joseph stood up. “Do you want to kill me again? Last time did really hurt…”

“According to your outfit I would prefer the other kind of art.” He went around him, gently stroking from one shoulder to the other. “You’re such an unconventional beauty, Joseph Oda.”

“They said they’ve got big plans for me.”

“Did they?” Stefano stopped in front of him. “What could be bigger than being part of my art?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.”

Stefano stroked with one of his red gloves over Joseph’s cheek. “You’re mine. They should know by now.”

“They consider me theirs.” Joseph grabbed Stefano’s hand. “But if I had to choose it would always be you. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I do. I know that they keep your body.”

“My body…” Joseph sighed. “I need clothes.”

“I don’t think so.” Stefano stroked over his chest. “I want to draw you like that.”

“Not today. I have to find out what they want to do to me.” Joseph played with his suit jacket. “I don’t want to face it naked.”

“That’s probably a good point. I’ll lend you some clothes. After I am finished with you.” Stefano pinned him at the wall.

“Please don’t be too rough. What if I have to fight?”

“It’s a pity… but I won’t allow anyone else to kill you.” Stefano dragged Joseph into a rough kiss. Their tongues fought while Stefano slowly put a finger into him. Joseph moaned out loud. He got used to it. He even found pleasure in it by now.

When they first met he hated Stefano. On their second met it was all the same. But he learned to love him. All that was left in his life was Mobius. And Stefano. And between those two he definitely preferred the crazy artist. Because despite every kill, every rape, every hurt… Stefano always treated him with love. Made him compliments, claimed him to be his property. And sometimes he could get really sweet. Things that Joseph missed in his former life. The one he loved… he could only watch and do nothing, slowly breaking apart on it.

At first, he was sure that Sebastian would come and safe him. But with every passing day that hope got lost more and more. His former partner had absolutely no reason to come back. At least no reason to come back for him…

So he just enjoyed being Stefano’s muse. Once, on a very good day, they even had a romantic dinner together. Joseph had to smile as he thought about that evening and wrapped his arms tighter around his lover. Maybe they would do that again one day. Not that he would dare to hope it. Hope had become his worst enemy.

“Enough now.”

They hadn’t finished fucking when suddenly a Mobius agent appeared. His face was hidden by the suit. It made Joseph uncomfortable every time.

“Excuse me, don’t you see we’re busy?!” Stefano gave him an angry glance.

“Mister Oda doesn’t have time for you today. He has got something to do.”

“Yes, he has! Being fucked by me.” Stefano snickered and rammed hard into him. It made Joseph cry in pleasure and pain.

The Mobius agent put out a device. Within two seconds Stefano laid unconscious on the floor. Joseph landed on him since they were still connected but the agent ripped him off with a painful pull.

“Put this on.” He gave him some clothes. Joseph’s heart stood still for a second. It was his old uniform. Even the badge was still there. He hadn’t seen this in ages.

“Why…?”

But the agent was already gone as he looked up. After he checked Stefano’s breathing, he put on the clothes. Carefully, he gave him a little kiss on the forehead, before he left the hallway.

Union was dark today. Or maybe it was just his imagination who told him that. He lost his sense for reality a while ago.

“Joseph! Oh my god!”

His senses froze as he heard that voice. No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be real.

He turned around and all he could see was a masculine chest since he got hugged hard. It felt so real… he could feel the body warmth, smell the scent of booze and cigarettes that always covered him…

“I thought I lost you forever.” Sebastian smiled at him and it made Joseph walk back a few steps. Yes, he did look different. Like he aged for some time. Like the loss of everything broke him even more apart. But this couldn’t be him.

“Don’t think I’ll fall for this!”, he screamed. He did fall for this trick way too often.

“W-what are you talking about?” Sebastian went a few steps towards him.

“Don’t touch me!” Never again…

“Okay! Okay, I won’t touch you. But we have to get you out of here!”

“Why can’t you just stop?” Joseph felt tears in his eyes now. “I don’t want to do this again! I won’t fall for this again! Just leave me alone!”

“What… what are you talking about?”

“I know how this works Mobius, I haven’t forgotten!” Joseph now screamed at him. “You used this way too often to ever convince me again! Sebastian will never come to get me! Whatever you want from me, just say it! But stop pretending to be Sebastian!” He put up a stone and threw it right into the man’s face. It left a bloody mark.

“Joseph!”

“Don’t you dare speak my name with his voice!” He threw another stone but this time the guy ducked.

“Joseph, listen to me!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Joseph could feel nothing but rage. Why did they have to do this over and over again? Playing with his hopes and desires? Always pretending to be Sebastian when they wanted him to do something and then making fun of him for really thinking his partner would come back…

“Joseph! It’s really me!”, the guy shouted while ducking under all the stones Joseph threw. “I came back into STEM because Kidman helped me! I’m here to find my daughter!”

Joseph stopped. “Lily…”

“Do you know where she is?!”

“Everywhere. And nowhere to be found.” Joseph had to laugh. “That’s a good move… yeah, you would have come back for your daughter.” Now tears were dropping from his eyes. “If you are real then please find my body… and kill it.”

“What?!” Sebastian was with him in seconds and held his shoulders. “I won’t kill you, listen to me! We will go home. Together.”

Joseph couldn’t stop crying anymore. “I can’t leave. I’m connected. My body can’t survive without STEM.” He hated himself for slowly falling for the trick again, actually believing this man to be Sebastian.

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t stay awake for long. Being outside is nothing but pain. Being inside is nothing but pain. I just want to die… but I can’t. I can’t die in STEM. Stefano killed me so many times… and yet I’m still here.”

“Fuck…” Sebastian hugged him again and Joseph closed his eyes, enjoying this moment. It felt good to be held like this. No fear of getting stabbed in the back for wanting to much affection. No fear of being turned into art again. Just a simple warm hug.

As Sebastian let go of him Joseph immediately pushed him back on him, not wanting to already end it.

“Joseph… we need to go. There’s this psycho guy… and this monsters everywhere…”

“Don’t worry. They won’t hurt me. I’ll protect you.” Joseph closed his eyes. “Just let me dream for a few minutes.”

“Joseph… there’s a huge monster right behind you.” He felt Sebastian’s heart beating faster.

“I already said that you don’t have to worry.” Joseph looked up. “Why can’t you just notice me for once?” New tears were dripping down his cheeks.

“Joseph… it’s coming closer…”

Joseph sighed and turned around. Obscura was standing there, focusing them with her camera eye.

“Leave.”, Joseph said. With a slow blink of her camera lens Obscura turned around and left.

“Why… why does this thing listen to you?”, Sebastian asked, taking a step back.

“Now it’s you who doesn’t trust me, huh?” Joseph looked down. “Too bad. I just wanted a hug.”

“I… I just need to know why…”

“Why?” Joseph looked at him. “Why I try to make the best out of my situation?”

“How? Are you… evil now?”

Joseph had to laugh hard on that. “There is no good and evil in Union. This is hell, Sebastian. You just have to arrange yourself to reduce the pain as much as you can.”

“You have an arrangement with that psycho?!”

“You could call it like that.”

“You said that he killed you many times!”

“He did.” Joseph felt tears in his eyes again. “But he also protected me. He… he can be nice sometimes. And he isn’t like Mobius. Mobius just wants to hurt me.”

“But he is hurting you, too!”

“What did you say there, ugly old man?!” Joseph’s blood froze as he heard Stefano’s voice behind him.

“Stop hurting Joseph!” Sebastian aimed a gun on Stefano’s head.

“Bring it on.” Stefano grinned and put out his knife.

“Stop it!” Joseph stepped between them. It was a dumb move and he knew it.

“So you’re cheating on me…”, Stefano growled, coming way too close.

“No!” Joseph shook his head. “He isn’t here for me, just for his daughter!”

“I’m not dumb. Mobius doesn’t use this guy all the time because of nothing! You love him. You love him more than you love me!”

“No! No, that’s not true!” Joseph felt tears in his eyes again. Was that Mobius’ plan? To separate him from the only one left?

“It is true and you know it!” Stefano slapped his face.

“Please, please, please!” Joseph begged on his knees, desperate not to lose him. “I love you! You know that I love you!”

“You don’t love me, you just don’t want to be alone!” Stefano kicked his face. It crooked his glasses.

“I love you.” Joseph crawled onto his shirt. “I love you!”

“You’re such a wretched creature…” Stefano spit on him. “You don’t deserve to be my art.”

“Please…”

“Don’t ever come back to me! We’re done!” Stefano turned around and just left. Joseph couldn’t stop sobbing. That romantic dinner he secretly hoped for… it would never come. He had to throw up and spit mostly blood on the floor.

“Joseph…” He felt Sebastian’s hand on his back.

“Are you happy now…?” Joseph sniffed and wiped over his mouth. “You took the last thing I had.”

“You…. You actually love this guy?”

“I don’t know!” Joseph sobbed in tears, finally looking at him. “I love how he was there for me. How he treated me like I was something special. How he gave me compliments. How he protected me from Mobius. How he allowed me to hold him sometimes… yes, I do love him! In this crazy, fucked up world he was the only one who cared for me!”

“You deserve better than that.”

“There is no better than that!” Joseph screamed at him. “I have been alone for my whole life! If I have to life in this hell, I at least don’t want to do it alone! Now it’s over… he will never invite me for dinner again! The only thing I dared to hope for…”

“Joseph…” Sebastian hugged him again and Joseph just cried on his chest. “I didn’t want to ruin this for you… but you do understand that this isn’t a healthy relationship?”

“It’s not like I have many choices here.” Joseph looked up at him. “I can’t protect you anymore. Leave now.”

“I won’t leave you behind.” Sebastian took his hand. “Not again.”

“You can’t save me. So at least save your daughter, yes?” Joseph forced himself to a sad smile.

“At first I need to know something.” Sebastian placed one hand on his cheek. Joseph noticed that it was bandaged. “Is he right? Do you love me?”

“I love you.” It felt so good to finally say it. To at least put this weight from his chest.

“That’s all I needed to know. I’m going to get you out of here, you hear me? I don’t care how hard it will be. And once we’re out I’ll invite you for dinner.”

“Seb…” Joseph felt even more tears dripping down his cheeks.

“It’s a promise, Joseph. Listen to me? I’m going to cook for you. Put some candles on the table. Hold your hand the whole evening…”

“Stop it.” Joseph moved away from him. “I knew you were Mobius.”

“I’m not Mobius, Joseph. I just want to make you happy.”

Joseph buried his head in his hands. “What have I done to deserve this? I always tried to be a good person. I just wanted to be loved. Why is that such a crime? Why do you punish me like that?”

“I’m not punishing you.” Sebastian hugged him again. “I’ll set you free. I’ll free both you and Lily and then we…”

“Stop it!” Joseph moved away from him again, breathing hard. “If you really want to help me then you’ll have to kill me. There is no other way.”

“There has to be.”

“Look at me!” Joseph stripped all of his clothes away, allowing Sebastian to look at his oppressed body. Almost every inch of it was covered with punctures, penetrated with not only needles from syringes but also wires, hoses and other devices.

“Joseph…” He could see a few tears in Sebastian’s eyes.

“Please… I just want this to end.” Joseph lowered his head. “Even if you’d manage to put me off all devices without killing me… I wouldn’t be able to do anything. My body is too weak. I don’t know if I would be able to speak or recognize something. So please… set me free.”

Sebastian nodded in tears. “I’ll… make it quick for you.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiled a little, taking his hand again. “I know it’s much to ask for.”

“I don’t want you to suffer.” Sebastian hugged him tight. “But it’s hard losing you again after I just found you.”

“At least you did find me. And in any other life I’d come with you, waiting for you to fulfill your promise.”

Sebastian grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. Joseph twitched in surprise and then closed his eyes. A kiss from Sebastian. One thing he never dared to hope for. And now it was happening. So sweet, so gentle, so loving. He never wanted it to stop. Wanted to stay like this for all eternity. But of course it wasn’t possible.

Sebastian slowly separated from him. Joseph turned away so that he couldn’t see his deep blush and put his clothes back on. Then he turned back to Sebastian and smiled at him.

“Ready for our last case, detective?”

[leaughrilke]

repeat the sounding joy

superbabies christmas special, pt. 2

find it on: ao3 ff.net

. . .

2020

. . .

“Kara?”  Lena’s hoping that her wife is home or, at least, in range to hear her—she was supposed to be done with Supergirl duty by now, but a little wiggle room is always penciled into the schedule Lena’s memorized, kept logged in the back of her mind.  Except—well.

This particular event is not wiggle room applicable.

Finn is nearing seven months and they are entering their first holiday season with him and Lena will be damned if their holiday card is not perfect.  Kara was the one that talked her into matching sweaters to begin with and now that Finn has managed to both vomit and poop all over his outfit, it’ll be Kara that comes up with a solution.

So long as the photographer Lena’s arranged to come by their apartment isn’t running early.

She’s not sure why she worried; Kara’s never been late without either calling ahead or having Alex do it for her and, so far, Lena’s not gotten a call.

“Alright, little man,” she sighs, fixing the top snap of the clean shirt she’s just dressed him in.  “Maybe Mama won’t notice that you’re a little out of sorts, hm?”

Finn coos back, parrots, “Mama!” and wiggles in Lena’s arms, obviously aiming to get back to his toys on the floor of his room.

There’s a brief rush of wind, a cool draft, and when Lena turns, Kara’s next to her.  And, bless her, holding a clean Finn-sized sweater.  “I figured it would be a good plan to keep extras on hand,” she says, stepping closer to tickle one of their son’s feet, grinning as he shrieks with laughter.

“Always so smart.”  Lena kisses her wife’s cheek, passes Finn off to her seamlessly.  “I need to wash up before Lenore gets here and I believe someone was missing his mama and would appreciate some quality time,” she says cheekily.

“How’s my man?” Kara asks, shifting her son to rest on her hip as Lena slips out of the room.  “How’s my Finster?”

Lena hurries in the bathroom, the doorbell ringing just as she reaches the bottom step of their stairs.  Kara’s just about to answer it when she notices Lena, turning quickly to flash a smile and a thumbs-up at her.  The movement elicits a giggle from Finn—they really lucked out with him, Lena thinks.  He’s always smiling, always happy.  She’d always been nervous thinking about having children, both for fear of a perpetually fussy baby as well as what her name would bring down on them.  But Finn?

Finn is wonderful, even smiles at the photographer when Kara opens the door for her.

“Hello handsome,” Lenore greets him before focusing on Kara and Lena.  “And hello moms!  I love the matched set.”

/

The shoot goes smoothly, with Kara and Lena selecting three shots for the Danvers family holiday card, as well as one for the L-Corp newsletter Lena started a few years earlier as a way to humanize her with her employees.

“Admit it,” Kara says later, after they’ve gotten Finn down for bed and are getting ready themselves.

Lena turns to raise an eyebrow at her wife, carefully pulling the backing off her snowflake earrings and setting them on the dresser.  “Admit what?”

Kara floats over, wraps her arms around Lena’s waist and rests her chin on her shoulder.  “You loooove the matching sweaters,” she teases, pressing a kiss to the skin exposed by the fallen strap of Lena’s nightdress.

“I will admit no such thing,” Lena smirks, turning in her wife’s arms and leaning up for a real kiss.  “We did the matching sweaters this year and never again.”

“Mhm,” Kara hums as she steers them both to bed.  “Whatever you say, babe.”

. . .

2022

. . .

“Finn, honey, please put your markers down.  Auntie Lenore is coming over so soon!  Don’t you want to be nice and clean then?”  Kara leans down to pull the offending items out of Finn’s death grip, whipping around to glare at Lena when she snorts at the exchange.  “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all, sugarplum,” Lena responds, saccharine sweet even as she narrows her eyes in challenge.  It’s not her fault that Kara chose to be on Finn watch this year; Lena would have been more than happy to switch with her, barring feeding Maia who had apparently developed a distaste for bottles recently, but Kara had insisted.

The funny part, Lena thinks, is that same trademark stubbornness reflected in Finn is what’s starting to get on Kara’s nerves.

But Finn is sweet at his core, even if his terrible twos mask that sometimes.  He lets his mother wrestle the pens away with minimal fuss, even if he does look over imploringly at Lena, knowing that she’s the ultimate pushover when it comes to his baby blues.

“Nuh uh, kiddo,” she says firmly.  “Mama said coloring time is over.”

“Draw,” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip in a horrifically accurate recreation of Kara’s puppy dog pout.

“C’mon honey,” Kara huffs, picking up their son.  “You know that’s not fair—Mommy can’t resist that look.”  She pokes his cheek lightly, earns herself a damp raspberry from Finn in return.  “Where’s that smile, hm?"

Finn does start to smile a little begrudgingly, always an easy win even now.  Looking at them, Lena starts to understand that appeal of the matching sweaters—snowmen this year, as opposed to the previous theme of snowflakes; Kara and Finn look like a matched set, Maia looking much the same in Lena’s arms.  All bright and blonde and beautiful, all strong, all powered—sometimes Lena feels a little left out of their club, sometimes feels a little out of place when Maia and Finn fly up out of her reach to play, when only Kara can join them easily.

The sweaters are a tangible reminder that she’s not a separate entity from them, not really.  She may not be exactly the same, but she is part of the family, a part of these giggling, happy children.

Maia coos happily, begins to play with Lena’s fingers and rings.  “Are you excited for the photos, love?” Lena asks her, smiling when Maia turns her big blue eyes on her, a wide toothless grin her answer.

/

The card turns out a little messier than previous years, not quite as picture perfect as their first holiday card with Finn—he was grumpy through the process, so Kara had to tickle him to get a smile.  The movement sent Kara’s glasses slipping down her nose and she tried to catch them by turning her head up.  Lena’s a blur, caught half in motion as she turned to look at what was happening next to her.

Maia, of course, was the only one looking at the camera.

. . .

2025

. . .

Their first card with Stella is a different ballgame—quite frankly, Lena is close to just calling it.  It wouldn’t be a tragedy to miss one year, especially with Stella still so worryingly small, still so colicky and fussy, with them still so sleep deprived.  They had enough photos from the months leading up that could easily sub in for the card.

“It’s going to be fine,” Kara assures Lena when she voices her same argument for what has to be the fourth time today.  “Finn and Maia are pros at this and Stella took a nice, long nap, so she’s should be good.”

“I just—,” Lena starts, pulling her hair out of its bun.  “It just feels wrong to be focusing on this so much, considering how difficult this year has been for us.  Is that ridiculous?”

“Of course not,” Kara says soothingly.  “But this is our normal, right?  We should try and stick to our normal as much as possible, that’s what Dr. Neuhaus said.  Babies can sense when people are stressed and we have been so stressed.  Besides,” she grins, pulling an earlier abandoned bag out of their closet.  “I had these customized.”

The sweaters for this year are reindeers, a family of five; Lena saw them when they arrived and burst into tears.  The transition from four to five was much more difficult than they’d ever anticipated and part of her was still worried that the final paperwork for the adoption, stuck somewhere in the grinding gears of bureaucracy, would be denied even when their case worker had all but assured it.

Maybe that had more to do with her hesitance for this card than anything else.  She’s not sure she’d ever recover if they lost Stella now.  She is sure, however, that she’d be a wreck every time she saw the card if they did lose her.

“You’re overthinking,” Kara says at the same moment Stella starts wailing.

Lena still swivels to where, until a few weeks ago, Stella’s bassinet sat, tucked in a warmly lit corner of their bedroom.  They’d just moved her into what had used to be their home office, recently renovated for their unexpected addition and it still feels wrong to have to cross the hall to comfort their crying daughter.  Still feels too far.

“I’ll get her,” Lena tells Kara once she’s reoriented herself, heading to the hall.

Some of this extra fear, Lena’s sure, is because she never had to worry with Finn and Maia.  Finn never ran a temperature, virtually never fussed or cried, slept soundly from the very beginning—all credit to Kara’s genetics.  Maia’s powers manifested so early, Lena hardly had a chance to worry about her, at least not in the way she worries for Stella.

Little Stella, still so small and sickly.  She catches colds and stomach bugs with ease, runs fevers like she’s been training for them.  Lena and Kara hardly slept the first few months with her.

And now, as Lena steps into the low-lit room, Stella’s wails ratchet up an octave.  That’s normal, at least—she always gets worse before getting better.  Her crying sustains even when Lena picks her up, only beginning to quiet when Lena holds her close.  They’ll have to figure out a better pose than they were planning; it would have been Finn holding Stella, Maia on a step behind them, and her and Kara at the back, but that won’t work if Stella’s fussing.  She likes being close to her or Kara.  Small adjustments, Lena figures.  All worth it.

Stella calms quickly enough, allows Lena to change her and dress her in the family sweater.

By the time Lenore arrives, they’ve all sort of gotten their collective act together.  Kara holds Stella on her hip, Lena seated on the floor with Finn on one side, Maia on the other.  When they’re reviewing the shots after, Lena spots a The Shot, a candid snapped when no one was paying attention.  Finn’s telling her something, his arms a blur as he gestures animatedly; she and Maia have twin looks of concentration as they listen to him, though Lena’s smirking.  Kara is resting her forehead against Stella’s, both of them smiling.

/

When the call comes in from their case worker that their final paperwork has been approved, she makes sure to send everyone involved a copy of the newly expanded and legalized Danvers Family Holiday Card.

. . .

2054

. . .

“Moms?” Finn calls, holding the door open for the rest of his family.  “We’re here!”

“Finn!” Maia hisses curled up next to Beth on the couch.  “Why are you so loud?”

“You’re one to talk, sis,” he shoots back with an eye roll.

Nasrin sweeps in, pushing her husband out of the way with a gasp.  “Oh, is that her?” she asks, ignoring Finn’s surprised laugh.  “Boys,” she scolds when her sons scramble for the couch to see their new cousin.

“She’s awake,” Beth assures her, shifting the bundle in her arms so that the newcomers can see her face.  Beth turns, asks her nephews, “Can you be really gentle?”

Cyrus, already taking tentative steps towards the trio on the couch, nods.  His brother, Jasper, follows him closely and says, “Is she gonna break?”

“Yes,” Maia answers just as Beth says, “Of course not.”  Finn glares at his sister as Beth continues.  “She’s just really small still and you guys are so strong!  You just have to be careful and support her head, if you want to hold her.”

Jasper looks back at his mother, easing herself into one of the armchairs.  “Is the new baby going to be this small?” he asks her, eyes on her ever-growing belly.

“Yes, love,” Nasrin hums, leaning back and resting her hands atop her stomach.  “You should start practicing gentle hands now.”

“Where’s Charlie?” Finn asks Maia as he sets his family’s bags down on the kitchen island.  “I have a question for him.”

“He’s supervising—.”

“Allie and Leo?”

“Mhm.  Snowball fight in the backyard.”

Cyrus bails at that, makes a dash for the back door and ignores his mother calling after him to slow down.  Jasper hesitates a moment, looks to his parents for approval and, after Finn laughs and tells him “Go!”, runs after his brother.

“Stell?” Finn asks finally.

Beth looks up again, smiling slightly at the mention of her wife.  “Laying down,” she answers.  “Lena just went to check on her, actually.”

“I’ll go—.”

Before Finn can finish his thought, Kara rounds the corner into the living room, arms piled high with holiday sweaters (this year’s theme, according to his mom’s email, was penguins).  “I thought that was you guys,” she says, smiling brightly at her son and daughter-in-law.  “Did the kids head outside?”

“Maia said the magic words,” Nasrin answers her.  “Snowball fight.”

Kara laughs, sets down the stack of sweaters on the coffee table.  “Good,” she sighs, stepping back to analyze the pile.  “They can work all their wiggles out now.  Have you seen your mom yet?” she asks Finn.

“Not yet.  Maia said she was checking on Stella?”

His mom swivels on her daughter then, eyebrows raised.  “What’s happening with Stella?”

“She’s fine,” Beth cuts in.  “Just healing up slower than she’d like and refusing to slow down at all to accommodate.”

Kara tuts and shakes her head.  “She’s always done that,” she grumbles.  “You too, Birdy.”  She swats at Maia’s shoulder accusatorially.  “Giving me grays, I swear.”

“Gee Ma,” Maia rolls her eyes.  “I wonder where we picked that up from.”

“I have never—!”

“Let’s not tell lies, love,” Lena hums, coming down the stairs.  “Credit where credit’s due and all that.  Have we got the sweaters sorted out?”

“Almost.”

“Perfect.  Lenore’s set to come over in twenty and Stella’s just washing up, so we should be on track.”

“Hi Mom,” Finn says, perched on the arm of his wife’s chair.

“Hi sweetheart,” Lena responds with a grin.  She hugs him tightly before leaning down to hug Nasrin.  “I thought I heard you all come in.”

“We’re sorry we’re late,” Nasrin apologizes.  “Cyrus’s game ran long and I wanted him to clean up before we headed over.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Lena assures her, squeezing her shoulder.  “We always plan a little wiggle-room into these things.”

“Okay,” Kara interrupts.  “We’ve got an extra sweater.”

Beth looks up from her conversation with Maia and asks, “You’re not double counting the newborns?  One for Tess and one for Finn and Nasrin, right?”

“Maybe the company made a mistake?” Lena suggests as she joins Beth and Maia on the couch, arms open to accept her granddaughter when Beth hands her off.

“Actually,” Maia says quietly.

All eyes turn to her.

“Charlie and I, uh, were going to wait a little longer to tell everyone, but I forgot I’d changed the order,” she says sheepishly.  The back door opens and Maia calls, “Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m about to tell them about the thing.”

“Oh!”  Charlie, covered in snow, rushes into the room, grinning wide.  “Really?”

“I forgot I changed the order for the sweaters.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

Kara, resting her arms on the pile of sweaters, extra and all, clears her throat.  “Your news?”

“Right!” Maia laughs.  “You all know that we had already put in the paperwork to adopt again when we got pregnant with Leo,” she explains.  “And, well.  We got a call a few months ago about a match.  We’ve been meeting with her at her foster home for the last several weeks and it’s looking like she’s going to be joining our family pretty soon.”

“What?”  Beth glares at her best friend.  “I’m getting another niece and you haven’t told me?”

“We haven’t really told anyone,” Charlie promises.  “We weren’t sure it was happening.  Josie’s older than Allie was when we adopted her, so we wanted to make sure she had some say in everything.”

“But it’s happening?” Kara asks, starting to tear up.

Maia nods, grinning.  “Yeah, Mama, it’s happening.  She’s coming home with us next week.”

Kara starts crying openly, dropping onto the other side of the couch and hugging her daughter.  Each grandchild’s announcement was met with tears and joy and this arrival would be no different.  Lena, on the other hand, quietly pulls out her phone.

Beth notices the small movement and raised her eyebrows.  “Researching?” she asks jokingly.

“Rescheduling,” Lena whispers back.  She dials before asking Maia, “Do you think she’d be up to meeting everyone then?”

Maia wipes her cheeks and nods.  “She’s been asking about that, actually.  She’s really excited to have a big family.”

“And how would she feel about matching sweaters?”

/

The final product, a sprawling, joyous shot that Kara and Lena frame for their mantle, features all fourteen and a half members of the family.

Nasrin holds the extra newborn sweater in front of her belly, Finn grinning proudly behind her.   Josie, already adored by every member of her newfound family, sits in Lena’s lap, her arm looped through Kara’s.  She took to her grandmothers quickly, but Lena’s memories of her time at the orphanage informed her care and words towards her new granddaughter and earned favor immediately.

Stella’s relegated to the couch with her mothers and Nasrin, a decision she’d protested loudly up until the day of, when she’d collapsed into her seat with a sigh of relief.  Tessa, in her arms, is yawning.  Cyrus managed to avoid his parents’ keen eyes and so Jasper has a pair of bunny ears—Allie sits on Charlie’s shoulders, Leo seated on the arm of the couch, his hand in Maia’s.  Beth’s found gazing down at her wife and daughter, her smile and adoration for them alone at the time.

Small things, little imperfections that Lena, as a child, was taught to hate—they make up the soul of her family.  The pulse, the breath, the things that remind her that this is real, this is the family she and Kara built together.  This is the reality she allowed herself all those years ago when she finally said yes.