#i still think it could be feasible to maybe turn the bedroom into a better use of space and we'd maybe all be able to sleep in it at once

[philosophicallie]

I want a cat. I want 5 cats. they'll help me actually live by being what I need to take care of so I have to take care of myself

[harrytheehottie]

HANDS ON YOU 3

hiii! this is my first piece of writing in like almost a year. this is a story that’s always playing on my mind so here is it’s third installment. you can catch up on part 1 and part 2 🌟 please let me know what you think and enjoy !!! 🌟

Harry always kept in touch.

The last time you saw him was when he was in the city before lockdown. He invited you to his apartment for a catch-up which quickly turned into something more. You always told yourself that you would never do it again but as soon as you saw his name on your phone, the butterflies in your stomach would appear. The relationship wasn’t feasible, he comes into the city for a week, you spend that week pretending like there will be a possibility of more and before you know it, he’s on his way back to London. You would hear from him on birthdays, holidays and anytime either of you got a bit too drunk. It was a nice situation for the both of you, your busy schedules didn’t give you time to want anything more.

The time in isolation did a number on you as you spent it alone in your 1 bedroom New York City apartment. Harry checked in on you a few days after the city went into a lockdown, he just left yours a few days prior headed to LA for meetings before he was set to start his tour in Europe. You were in a daze.

“How are you?” He says over the phone, opting for a phone call instead of a FaceTime.

“As good as I’m going to get, it’s been a rough few days in the city but I'm trying to manage.” You say pacing back and forth through your apartment trying to get some sort of movement. “How are you, are you going to head back home?”

There was a silence on his end, you move your phone away from your ear to see if you’re still connected and as soon as you place it back, Harry begins talking at a rapid speed.

“I was thinking maybe you could come here? There’s a ton of space, I have an extra room you can make your workspace, we have a huge yard, you won’t be stuck in your tiny apartment alone? Not that your apartment is tiny, it’s beautiful, one of the best I’ve ever stepped foot in…”

“Harry?” You say interrupting his monologue, you immediately knew why he opted for a phone call over a FaceTime, he was nervous.

“Sorry, I knew it would be weird to ask, I should’ve never brought it up.”

“I’d love to,” you interrupt him again.

It’s probably not the best decision - you’ve only been around Harry a handful of times since you met last summer. Being isolated in a house for days and weeks on end would be a true fear of any relationship we had. But a house in Southern California sounded better than the last few days going stir crazy in your 800 square foot apartment.

You’d deal with the consequences later.

You spent another half hour talking over logistics. Harry was adamant on paying for your flight and as soon as he brought it up, you opened your laptop and booked it yourself.

“You’re already inviting me into your home, I can buy my own ticket. I’ll be getting it on Friday afternoon, if you can text me the address, I’ll uber over?” You were pacing around your apartment, trying not to think too much about what the one-way ticket to Los Angeles meant.

“There will be no ubering,” Harry interruptes, “I’ll arrange your pick-up, very excited to see you.”

“We’ll see how long that excitement lasts.”

The next few days were spent trying to sort your life out, you were packing everything out, eating the remainder of items in your fridge and cleaning out your pantries of any potential expired foods. You tried not to think too hard about how long you were going to be away for and what that meant for your future. Anything beats the feeling of being alone and if that meant being in the company of your friend who was definitely more than a friend but you were never going to put a label on it friend and his friends then so be it.

&& 

The house that Harry was staying in was far beyond your little apartment in the city. He had more than a few bedrooms to spare, a large bright kitchen that opened up into the living room, a pool in the backyard with enough room to fit a mini putting green.

Harry met you in the living room after putting your bags upstairs for you. You were looking around at all the little things that were just so very Harry - the picture of his mom and sister that was framed on the bookcase, the stack of vinyls near the record player, his shoes scattered around the couch.

“Anything catches your eye?” Harry whispered in your ear causing you to jump a little,

“You scared me!” You playfully hit him on the shoulder causing him to laugh, that same laugh that got your attention in that dingy dive bar in the city, “I was just looking around, I didn’t realize you had a house here so I was expecting it to be sort of empty.”

“I didn’t for a while, then thought it would be kind of nice to have a home to come to rather than a hotel room whenever I’m here for work and it didn’t hurt to try and make it similar to the one back in London as much as I could.” Harry explained.

You didn’t poke any further. You spent time catching up in the living room, Harry telling you about the new music he had been discovering, you told him about your failed attempt at making sourdough, which he promised he “still had it in him from the bakery days and could teach me.”

It surprised you how at ease you were with him, this sense of calm. Your relationship was always in and out, it never had time to develop as anything more than just a hook-up that hasn’t met its expiration date, yet.

&&

“Is that why you always stayed in my apartment in New York?”

“What?” Harry was cleaning up from dinner as you sat on the kitchen island watching him. You were winding down for the night, you were in your set of pajamas, enjoying the view of Harry in his gray sweat shorts that were riding lower than he’d probably like to admit with nothing on top.

“Earlier, you said you bought this house because it was nicer than staying at a hotel, is that why you always stayed at my apartment? You had somehow to keep you company?”

Harry turned off the faucet and turned around to look at you, his eyes meeting yours, “Is that what you think?”

“I’m asking a question,” your stomach flipped, nervous for where this conversation was headed. “I’m not going to be upset, it just makes sense, we’re friends, you have someone to talk to that you don’t associate with work.” You answer him, knowing Harry would have waited for you to answer him before he continued - it was frustratingly annoying how he always seemed to get his way, those damn gray sweat shorts.

Harry moved from his spot by the sink, rounding the corner of the kitchen island before standing in front of you.

“No, that’s not why I always come to your apartment in New York,” he moved to grab your hands that were fiddling with your pants and intertwine them with his.

He was different, this was different.

“I come to you because I like you. I want to wake up with you and listen to you talk about what’s going on at work and the things that drive you crazy. I invited you here because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being in the same country as me but not together.”

You let go of his hands and before Harry could utter his next sentence you moved your hands to the back of his head and pulled his mouth to yours. Your mouths immediately finding the rhythm that they were accustomed to, the familiarity of his lips on yours as his hands maneuvered your chair to spread your legs apart and give him more access. You felt a shift in the air - you and Harry had done this a few times before but this was different, this was answering your questions, any doubt either of you had about the future was slowly leaving you

“I see why you walk around naked all the time,” you teased between kisses as you moved your hands around his torso before going for the waist of his sweats.

“Are you complaining? I can go back upstairs and change,” he smirked before moving to begin taking off your top, his hands immediately moving to cup your breasts, thumbs circling around your nipples as your lips continued to move to the same motion. The sounds of your joint moans filling up the room, your bodies were craving one another and you were going to lose it if you didn’t get any closer,

“Need more,” and before you could finish your sentence, Harry quickly sprung into action moving you off the chair and onto the kitchen island. He wasted no time and began moving to where you wanted him most,

“Fuck,” Harry whispered under his breath, as he just took your naked body as he kissed your inner thighs before moving his mouth to your center. Your heart skipped a beat as he moved his lips to suck and lick as you moved your hips to follow him towards your orgasm. Harry’s eyes never left yours as you watched him slip his index finger inside you, a second following as he sucked on your clit, curling them until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh my, fuck.” you were breathless as he moved his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them.

You were a goner.

You watched Harry take off his sweat shorts and weren’t surprised to see he wasn’t wearing any briefs underneath, “presumptuous?”

“Prepared,” he responded as he jerked himself towards you, meeting him at the edge of the island, your legs waiting for him. You reached down to guide him, the familiar stretch that you always welcomed, Harry slowly easing into you inch by inch. You could feel his heart racing against yours as you clung onto his body, “you feel so fucking good,” he whimpered thorugh his moans.

You moved your hands into his hair, combing and pulling as Harry began slowly moving inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you as Harry buried his face in your shoulder, his whimpers and moans filling your ears with pleasure.

“I’m close,’ Harry whispered as he moved his hips faster his mouth meeting yours, his thrusts become more rapid in succession, you could feel him heading towards his climax, you moved your hands in his hair again and with a slight tug and a quiet, “please” in his ear, he was done for.

Your bodies stayed intertwined as you both caught your breaths.

After a few minutes, Harry moved to let you off the island and handed you the pajamas that now laid on the kitchen floor before moving to find his sweats.

“I don’t want to be too presumptuous but,” Harry paused before leaning down to kiss you on the lips once more, “does this mean I can move your stuff into my bedroom?”

“Hmmm…” you thought, looking at him pretending to have to think about your answer, “you can move my things into your bedroom.”

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

[warmblanketwhump]

close proximity

two rivals, one bed, one snowstorm. what could go wrong? (word count: 1.3k)

A was furious. They’d told B that their university project could wait until tomorrow, that they’d work out the details before class. But no, B just couldn't settle for that – they had to prepare the night before. And now, B was stuck at A’s apartment as a blizzard raged outside.

"Are you happy now? Class'll probably be cancelled, and it won't even be due," A snaps.

B stands in the doorway, arms crossed, stifling a cough. “It’s your fault that I even had to come over here in the first place. If you hadn’t put your part off, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Oh don’t start,” A retorts. “I’ve got better things to do than help you keep your precious 4.0.” A and B had been at each others throats all semester, but this project was the last straw.

The snow was coming down in great white waves, and if A was a crueler person, they'd throw B right out on the stoop. But they weren't heartless.

“Look,” huffs A. “You might as well not skid off the road and blame me for that, too. Sleep on my couch. Or don’t. I don’t care.” With that, A snatches the nearest blanket and throws it B’s way, and B catches it. B looks torn, eyes glancing out at the storm and back at the blanket, then to the storm again. Coughing weakly, they sink onto the couch, resigned to their fate.

“Sleep well,” A mumbles. With that, they head back to their room, burrow into their bed, and promptly fall asleep.

Hours later, they’re woken by the freezing cold biting at their nose. A groans as they sit up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They snatch a blanket from the top of the pile to wrap around themselves, slip a pair of socks over their cold toes, and step back into the hallway.

They make it to their thermostat and are greeted by a dark panel where a warm glow used to be. The blizzard must’ve knocked out power - and hours ago, if it’s this cold.

A turns to go back to their room, but they’re stopped by the sound of a weak sob. They listen again, confused. Someone, sniffling, coughing in short, shuddering breaths - wait, B. That’s who’s here in their usually empty apartment.

A takes a couple hesitant steps. B’s huddled on the couch, the thin blanket pulled closely around them, knees tucked up so they’re a tightly wound ball. And even in the dark, A can see them shivering.

“B? Hey, come on. What’s wrong?” In the darkness, A can make out a small tuft of hair poking out above the blanket.

“M’ cold,” they whimper. A reaches out to feel B's forehead, too warm and speckled with sweat. A’s hand trails down to B's shoulder, feeling the thin blanket that's now their feverish body's only protection against the freezing air. The anger from hours before melts away, replaced by a guilt that punctures A's chest.

“Oh, honey-” The term of endearment slips from A’s mouth before they can stop it, remember who they’re talking to. But B either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care enough to respond, and a weak cough slips from their lips. They've been down here for hours like this.

A sits on the couch and pulls B close under their blanket, rubbing B's arms, their back, their shoulders, desperately trying to warm them up. B just presses closer, and A can feel the heat of the fever radiating off them.

The sudden intimacy just compounds A's guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

B shrugs limply, head buried in the crook of A’s neck. “I was just tired and achy before. I was just going to try and make home if you hadn't offered for me to stay. I figured you didn't really care what I did or how I felt.”

A momentary vision of B sick and stranded in a cold, broken-down car puts a lump in A's throat, and they swallow hard. "C'mon, B. We don't get along, but you can't think that I'm enjoying your suffering."

B snorts softly. "The way we go at it? I was expecting you to pitch me out on the porch." A feels a twinge in their chest - they had considered it. And yet here they were, trying to keep their sworn enemy just a little bit warmer.

Despite the fever, B’s hands are like ice. A puffs warm air onto them, vigorously trying to rub the blood back into their chilled fingers.

B groans with gratitude. "It's so warm."

A sighs. Their options for keeping B comfortable are few, especially with the power being out. And honestly, it makes their heart squeeze a bit to think of B down here, alone and sick. There's only one feasible option - and it's not one that they think B will love, either.

“C’mon,” A says, standing. They hold out their hand to B, who has the decency to look confused as they take it. “It’s freezing and God knows how long it’ll be until the heat comes back. It’ll be warmer with two of us.”

B, still drowsy, is halfway down the hall before they find it in themselves to object. “A, I’m not - we can’t share -"

“You honestly want to turn into a popsicle on my couch and get sicker?”

B drops their protests, and they reach A’s bed, piled in blankets. “It’s a mess," A says sheepishly, "but I promise it’s warmer.”

“You have SIX blankets on your bed? Normally?” A can hear the disbelief in B’s voice.

“Seven, once you bring yours. I hate being cold.”

“So do I - that doesn’t mean I need SIX blankets. Do you even feel a difference after the first three?”

“Do you want to go back to the couch?”

“....no.”

“Then be quiet and enjoy this beautiful, majestic nest I've welcomed you into.”

They help B clumsily navigate the layers, and soon they’re both tucked away, A leaving generous space between the two of them.

“A...” B whispers after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” A huffs.

“You said it'd be warmer. I’m still cold.”

“You have a fever, you kumquat – of course you're cold. These are all the blankets I have.”

B rustles in the blankets for a moment. “You know, it was kind of nice when you hugged me.”

“You mean it was warm when I hugged you.”

“Yes. It was. And being warm felt nice.”

“Are you...implying something?”

“C’mon, A. I’m cold. You’re warm. There's only one solution I can see for that.”

"B, you've got germs and you're technically warmer than I am. Just give it a minute."

B sighs dejectedly, and A can't help but feel an ache of sympathy. Even on the other side of the bed, A can feel B shaking. Though they're loathe to admit it, the bedroom is still cold. And maybe the idea of curling up next to another warm (okay, fevered) body is tempting, even if that body is likely to promptly pass on whatever plague they've got.

“Please?" B whispers a few minutes later. "I'm freezing. Just a minute or two. And then I promise you can shove me off and I'll shut up.”

A pauses for a moment. B's voice is so soft, so pleading, so unlike their usual intolerable self, and A knows they must be truly miserable if they're begging. So they give in.

"Fine. Just until you're warm enough." A scoots closer, pulling B's fevered head onto their chest and wrapping their arms around them. A can feel the tiny shivers that ripple through B's body, and they rub soothing circles onto B's back as their breathing slows. B nestles closer, and an unexpected warmth floods A's whole body. Their hand slowly makes its way towards B’s head, fingers gently running through their soft hair.

Before long, B is completely asleep. But A doesn't let go. Somehow, a small sliver of them has been won over by the least likely person imaginable. And as they drift off, they realize they might not mind at all.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

[five-rivers]

What Was Bound, What Was Loosed Chapter 3

Written for Dannymay Day 6: Core.

.

Ellie took to spending her days in the palace library.

Danny thought he was trapped. Believed he was trapped. So did everyone else. But Ellie didn’t believe it. All cages had keys. Danny had opened hers. It was only right that she return the favor.

(Of course, she wasn’t happy about being stuck herself. There were still things she wanted to see on Earth. She missed the stars.)

The books were old and new. Some were in English, others were in languages she couldn’t even begin to recognize. Most of them had nothing to do with what she was looking for. Like in any library, they were on a wide variety of subjects, all spread out.

Still, she searched. The stack of tomes that had to do with ghostly kingship and the laws of the Infinite Realms grew progressively larger. Occasionally, one of the shades would attempt to put the books back, but they were easily dissuaded, having no will of their own.

She was making progress. Not a lot, but some. Enough to keep her going.

.

Vlad knew when to quit.

Oh, maybe it didn’t seem like it, he was easily as obsessive as any ghost, but he did. Sometimes, a plan just wasn’t feasible, and he had to cut his losses.

Cutting his losses, in this case, meant getting incredibly drunk on ghost wine. Fright Knight didn’t approve, but who cared what he thought? Fright Knight was part of the reason he was in this situation in the first place!

If he had just been warned this would happen, he’d have been able to make arrangements, to find some way to keep his portal open, or to stay in the human world, where his life was.

But no. They were all trapped here. No way out.

When hundreds of ghosts all said the same thing, Vlad was inclined to believe them. Danielle, as motivated as she was, was simply experiencing denial. Or, perhaps, bargaining. He had to admit he was never exactly clear on the stages of grief.

Then, there was Daniel, who seemed to be firmly trapped in the ‘depression’ stage, more of a ghost than Vlad had ever seen him as. He lingered in corners, at the edge of Vlad’s vision, quiet, sad, always flanked by Fright Knight and that other ghost, the one with the clocks.

There were parts of him, his Obsession reasserting itself, that yearned to reach out to Danny, but… He didn’t even know how to begin.

.

Danny felt like a pale, wandering shadow of himself.

Most of the time, he slept, exhausted by the demands the Zone made on him and the continuing changes he was undergoing. The expanding circle of vitality, of rejuvenation, of reconstruction and growth, that so many ghosts were celebrating had to draw energy from somewhere, after all, and even though Danny was absorbing just as much as he was expending, that process made him drowsy in and of itself.

Pain, too, plagued him. His missing eye ached, and sometimes it seemed as if the crown was burrowing into his skull, not merely resting on it. His hand hurt from all his attempts to take off the ring.

He could hardly care for himself in even the most basic of ways. Clockwork often had to remind him, or help him, and he was always so excruciatingly gentle.

Then Vlad and Ellie came.

Their arrival was a relief. Ellie was a friend, was family, and hadn’t been complicit in his betrayal and binding. Vlad had been an enemy, and not even an honest one at that, but essentially everything they’d been at odds over was moot, but he was familiar.

Despite the relief, despite his desire to connect with people who hadn’t hurt him, at least not as badly as everyone else, he hung back. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

So, he lurked and lingered. When Ellie went to the library, when Vlad moped and bothered the shades that ordered the kitchen, he followed, he watched.

Clockwork and Fright Knight, of course, followed and watched him in turn.

At least, this is what happened when he was awake and aware enough to do anything. Danny was under the impression that being awake and independently mobile at all this soon after being… coronated… was unusual, perhaps even unnerving. Normally, he’d be curious, excited about new abilities and what they might mean. Maybe he’d even throw around a quip or two about how awesome he was but…

It wasn’t the time, and he didn’t have the willpower to reach for even that dubious coping mechanism.

In the too-numerous times when Danny was both awake and not well enough to follow Ellie and Vlad around, he liked to sit in the garden. It was almost peaceful there, by the fountain, although the plants had a distressing tendency to reflect his every change in mood.

Today was one of those days. He was too dizzy and lightheaded to drift after Vlad or Ellie, even if neither of them moved very much, but he didn’t want to stay in the bedroom, or, worse, the throne room. His core seemed to pulse, sluggish and painful in his chest. Or perhaps that was his heart. He couldn’t really tell with this mixed-up form. It could even be both.

Another slow wave of transformation swept out from him, making his extremities tingle. He watched, tiredly, as it briefly interacted with the walls of the palace and the scattered shades before moving on. The shades… another aspect of all this that Danny wasn’t comfortable with, but couldn’t bring himself to learn more about. They were sustained through his power, but what were they? Extensions of his will? Aspects of his personality? Constructs generated by the palace? By the Ghost Zone itself? He didn’t know.

As much as he should try to learn, he couldn’t help but think of them as yet another imposition, another burden he was being forced to bear.

This wasn’t a healthy mindset. Jazz would tell him as much. Jazz wasn’t here.

“Danny!”

He looked up, his one eye already searching for Ellie. Fright Knight stepped forward, as if to protect him, but Danny snarled at him, annoyed. He wasn’t going to let him get in between him and one of the few people he could currently stand. Clockwork stayed back, passive, but he looked… worried. Uneasy. As if anticipating a disaster.

“Danny!” exclaimed Ellie again, bursting from a bush, a thick book raised above her head. “I found it!”

“Found what?” asked Danny, leaning forward slightly as Ellie joined him sitting on the edge of the fountain.

“A way out!” She opened the book and started flipping through it, obviously looking for a specific entry.

Both Clockwork and Fright Knight looked extremely tense, now. They probably didn’t want him to find this, didn’t want him to leave. Would they try to stop him?

He hunched his shoulders. He might not be well, but he could fight and make it hurt.

“Here!” said Ellie, triumphantly. “Look at this.” She tapped a picture of a bright, spherical object.

“The core of the Infinite Realms?” asked Danny, reading the legend of the picture.

“Uh huh. Apparently, it’s what determines what the Ghost Zone is like as a whole and controls the rules and laws and stuff. Like, even when it comes to what ghosts act like, and what they can physically do, or how the Ghost Zone’s physics behave. But the important part is that you can go talk to it and petition it and stuff, and sometimes it’ll listen. I bet we can get it to listen to you and make it so that the Ghost Zone doesn’t need a king anymore.”

Danny felt a flutter of hope. The book was old from what he could see, and, ignoring Ellie’s paraphrasing, the language was fantastical and couched in metaphor, but still if there was a possibility…

Near their feet, small, bright flowers began to bloom, each no larger than the head of a pin.

“Daniel,” said Clockwork, in a careful, soft tone. It wasn’t pity, not quite, but it was the verbal equivalent of being handled with kid gloves. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then what is it like?” asked Danny, hunching his shoulders and leaning protectively over Ellie.

“What do you think the King of the Infinite Realms is?” asked Clockwork.

Danny shrugged. Clockwork gave him a small, pained smile.

“The King of Ghosts and the core of the Ghost Zone,” said Clockwork, “they’re the same.”

Danny shook his head, unwilling to let this scrap of hope slip through his fingers so easily.

“Please, Daniel,” said Clockwork. “Why do you think it was so vital that you be crowned? The Realms cannot exist without their core.”

It made sense. A horrible, horrible sense.

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Ellie. “The core’s supposed to be the basis the whole Zone is built on. That can’t just be one person.”

“The library has some books on the subject,” said Clockwork. “But you can see how Daniel is changing things.”

Danny felt his hope collapse and doubled over, hands on his head, face almost touching his legs. A scream bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it. All those people, everywhere, his responsibility, his… Not just the people, everything. Everywhere. Not just his responsibility, but relying on him, modeled on him, dependent on him, centered on him.

He wasn’t just the Ghost Zone’s ruler, nominal or not, he was its heart.

“Danny?” asked Ellie. He looked up.

There were blast lines in the ground, radiating away from him. The fountain was cracked and leaking water. Fright Knight had, evidently, grabbed Ellie and leaped away, into the air.

Clockwork hadn’t left, still leaning towards Danny. There was a jagged, dripping slice across his shoulder. Danny gasped, reaching towards him.

“It’s alright,” said Clockwork. “It’s alright.”

“I can’t be,” said Danny. “I can’t be. I’m—I can’t be part of the Ghost Zone. Not—Not like that. That’s not—I can’t be what the Ghost Zone is built on, it doesn’t make sense, I…”

“It’s alright,” repeated Clockwork. “Would you like to go inside? You may feel better if you eat something.”

“Don’t want to bother Vlad,” mumbled Danny. Didn’t want another person to see him crumbling like this.

“We can send something up to your room,” said Clockwork.

He did feel tired. The fountain was repairing itself behind and underneath him. He groaned as the ground beneath him pulled together as well.

“I don’t want to be the core of the Ghost Zone,” he said, knowing that what he wanted was not and never had been a consideration. “I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to be in charge of anything.” He grabbed the edges of Clockwork’s robe, ignoring the moisture despite the pang of guilt it brought him. “I want to go home. And I…” His words failed as he reached for Clockwork’s injury. “I don’t want to do this.”

“This is nothing, Daniel,” putting a gloved hand over the wound. “I have had far worse.”

It started to rain. Great, heavy droplets of water tainted with just enough ectoplasm to glow.

It was one way to hide tears, he supposed.

[lluvguts]

Cool Blue ; Chapter Five

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

sneak us through the rivers

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ warnings: sexual tension, heat cycle talk, touching

☽ fic masterlist

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

Luca slept through Lorenzo's gentle wake-up of kneeling beside the cave bed and prodding one caring hand against his shoulder. Ever since he was a child the action became normalized, with Luca curling around his father's touch along with a quiet yawn and a sleepy lopsided grin at his level eyes. But now, with the blues of his bedroom brightening as the sun hung above their home, he wouldn't budge. Lorenzo cleared his throat and removed his hand from Luca's shoulder for a moment, seeing how his son looked like a stone at the bottom of a river.

"Hey, Luca," Lorenzo rubbed his back. "You slept through the morning chores. I think the goatfish are missing you."

He stirred in the stifling water making his scales feel congested and stiffened when his eyes opened to his father wading next to him. Now that he was awake, the uncomfortable heat radiating off his skin made Lorenzo pull away with a frown.

"Luca, are you okay?"

"Giuseppe?" Luca slurred, disoriented. He rolled onto his other side to face Lorenzo, who was now floating back to the far wall of his room, gingerly tracing the ripples of warm water that chased his movements.

"Daniela!" Lorenzo cast a fearful look to his son then darted from the room. Though Luca's room was separated there was still the mouth of the cave entrance that had no means of a door and allowed Luca's grandmother (or, alternately, anyone) to peek her head inside at Lorenzo's little shout. Daniela soon followed.

"Y-You said he still had a few months!" Lorenzo returned clutching the hand of Daniela, while grandma Paguro trailed behind wordlessly, smirking to herself.

"All I said was that seventeen was the normal time for this, Lorenzo," Daniela said in a frustrated whisper, her dark tail making rivulets in the water.

Luca blinked at the three of them, now in his private space, then growled. He couldn't really stop himself from doing so, he had been sleeping peacefully enough until they all decided to ruin the dream he was having.

Oh, cod. The dreams he'd been having...

Daniela bent down to look Luca in the eyes, taking hold of his shoulder. Luca winced and placed his hand on top of his mother's. She clicked her tongue in response.

"Yep. Scales are hot...He's sensitive to touch...Been sleeping away most of the day already," She murmured more to herself than to her concerned husband.

"Will be be alright?" Lorenzo piped up, leaning toward Luca.

"Oh please, Lorenzo. You went through your heat too, remember?" Daniela sighed and looked back to him with a scowl. Lorenzo flushed and averted his gaze away.

Luca found his voice. "My...what?"

"Your heat cycle," His grandmother added in, being the third and final family member to join Luca at his bedside. She snorted. "It means you're going to be ready to find a mate soon."

"Mother! I said we should ease him into it! Does that sound like easing to you?"

Mate? A mate? Or...mating? He squirmed at the thought.

Three very different pairs of eyes, all holding separate emotions, glimmered back at him. Luca felt their gazes burning into his scales and crawled away from the ledge of the bed to the point where his dorsal fin brushed the rock wall. The stone cave was smooth and cool to the touch. So silky against his tender scales and spines it made that odd pain burst through his abdomen again until it blossomed into an even more peculiar sort of pleasure. It soothed his feverish scales and reminded him of the practiced hands that had been all over him in his dreams, and as his parents argued only inches from his trembling body he bit down on his tongue to keep quiet.

"Are you in pain, Bubble? Where does it hurt?"

"Oh, poor thing, look at him shaking. Great job, Daniela," Luca's grandmother chided with a light chuckle.

Not for what you may think, Luca thought with an internal groan of discomfort.

"What did I do wrong?" Daniela turned to growl at her mother.

"He's your son."

Daniela's tail flicked angrily. "Well what did you do when it was my time, mother?"

The older woman examined her scales, and, without missing a beat, "Sent you out to the breeding grounds. Don't point the claw at me, missy. You and Lorenzo had a fairly nice time."

"Breeding grounds?" Luca shrieked. His back was fully pressed to the cave wall now, to his parents it only confirmed their assumptions on his fear but really Luca was doing it because it felt better than the boiling water around him.

Even the word sounded primitive. Luca had seen--not by choice--a few of the goatfish going through a particular season of...breeding, and if what he'd been forced to watch while sheperding was anything remotely close to how it was for sea folk, he didn't want in on it. Well, he knew how it was for sea folk, of course. Daniela had been hell-bent on initiating that conversation much earlier than Luca would have preferred.

"Can we talk about this later?" Luca begged, sliding back down onto his kelp bed with his claws raked through the fins on his head. "Please? I just want to go back to sleep."

"Go back to sleep?" Lorenzo chuckled. "Son, you've been sleeping this whole time--"

"Oh, nonsense," Daniela put her hand on Lorenzo's snout, quieting him. "He'll need all the rest he can get if he really is in heat. Besides, it'll keep him away from the neighbor's. I think they have a young girl around Luca's age, and that's the last thing we need."

"Uh, I'm right here?" Luca said angrily. His whole body felt like it was spinning on a wheel of emotions with no axis, just one blending into the other.

Lorenzo gave Luca a sympathetic smile before he was pulled away by grandma Paguro into the cave channel outside his room.

"Don't worry Lu," Daniela took hold of both Luca's hands, squeezing them. "This'll all be over in a few weeks."

"But," Luca looked to her algae dress swaying with the water, feeling his face warm up. "You're saying that...all of these things I'm feeling are just because of the heat?"

"Yes, baby." She tapped the back of his hand reassuringly. "I know it's confusing, but I promise after you get just a little bit more rest, we can explain it later. Okay, Bubble?"

Luca had a million things to say, and he wanted to say them now. He wanted to tell his mother that he thought he was going crazy because he'd had the best and most vivid dreams of his entire life. Well, maybe not say exactly that, but it was definitely up there. Or the fact that every time he moved, a starburst of pain cramped in his stomach, low and threatening, but all that came with it were thoughts dirtier than the time uncle Ugo decided to make whale for dinner. He wasn't supposed to think things that vile!

And, most of all, the beautiful land monster boy he'd met at the cove. With his tanned skin that reminded Luca of the tender underside of the brown conch shells he used to collect. And the sun kisses on his skin! Each one like a splash of color gifted from the fish in the sky! His eyes, bright expectant shards of sea glass Luca wished he could touch. Alberto, marvelous and witty, painting the rocks that lined the pool at the cove. Luca, marveled and wincing with feeling. Just thinking about him made his stomach ache. It made him ache all over. But it wasn't a sorrowful, sore pain.

It was an ache of need. Of want. Once his train of though passed through thinking innocently of Alberto's kind eyes and lopsided grin, it focused more heavily on the way Alberto bit his lip and the lean muscles that made up his body until he had to catch his breath because his mother couldn't catch him like this.

So all Luca did was nod at his Daniela's words, all worked up again, and wave weakly as she swam out of his room.

He fell back onto the bed, chest heaving.

This was impossible. And she had said it was going to last weeks?

"Oh, sharks. I'm so dead," Luca groaned, digging the flat part of his hand to his belly. He traced one of his gills with his eyes closed, savoring the feeling and the memories of the night before. Luckily for him, the entrance to his bedroom was facing out into the hallway, where there was only silence.

A considerable amount of silence.

Then an idea broke through his hazy thoughts of Alberto. Luca flipped himself over and swam to the mouth of the cave, glancing at either side of the hallway. No one was in the rooms beside him, and from the eerie quiet they all must have left the house so he could sleep.

Guilty bile rose in his throat, but Luca didn't care. There was no feasible way he was falling asleep. He checked the hallway one more time before taking an old blanket made of sea moss and throwing it on top of his bed, along with stuffing a few lumpy pieces of coral he'd stashed away underneath that until it formed a lumpy version of himself under the covers.

He didn't believe that what was burning in his chest for Alberto was just because of some stupid sea monster thing.

/ / /

"Alberto! How are you already here?" Luca popped his head out from under the still water to stare at his friend. "I didn't think you'd be wandering around."

When Luca had snuck back to the wide rock opening to the cove underwater, he could already smell Alberto from above. His salty scent, mixed with other delicious things too overpowering for his sensitive nose, but he could find it anywhere. There was a sweetness lingering in Alberto's scent, it was honey and flower petals.

Alberto smiled apologetically with his hands on the straps of his bag. "I wasn't wandering around. I came to see you." He undid the latch on his bag, the very one where all of the fun paint colors came out of if Luca was correct, and produced a towel. Luca's brows were pulled low as he watched from the edge as Alberto crouched down to him and dunked it into the water.

"What're you doing?" Luca pointed at the towel, once light and radiating weird land monster smells but was now dull and soaking in sea water.

Alberto's face went pink, a color Luca loved looking at, and shrugged. "I, uh, thought that this might help with the sun." He knelt down on his bare knees and draped the dripping towel across Luca's shoulders. "You can come out of the water now. Now it shouldn't hurt as much."

Alberto helped Luca up until they were both sitting, cross-legged, staring at each other. The towel was heavy with the weight of the water around him, but was nice against his scales. He pinched the corners of the towel and nestled deeper inside of it.

"Thank you," Luca whispered with dark cheeks. When he looked at Alberto now the words mate and heat and breeding grounds appeared in his head unannounced and his skin crawled with the indecision of everything spinning around him.

"You good, Luca?" Alberto leaned closer toward him, growing concerned. Luca wanted to smack him, with his face inches from his nose the stench, albeit a lovely one, rippling off his tan skin was too much. They were things Luca did not know the names for in the human world, but all the same he smelled intoxicating.

Luca took in a deep breath, his gills still clogged with sea water, and nodded uneasily. "Is it okay if I try something?" He rushed to ask in his preheat, head-pounding state.

"Uh, okay?" Alberto sat back normally. "Are you gonna take me to Atlantis or something? Hate to break it to you, Luca. I might be an expert at swimming but I don't think I can breathe underwater like you."

The arrogance rolled off Alberto in waves, and Luca fought to keep his head steady.

"No! That's not what I meant! It's not even called Atlantis, you know. And if I wanted to take you, the water pressure is too deep for your ears. You'd probably die or something."

"Then what did you mean?"

Luca scooted closer, claws still gripping the towel like a cape. "Sorry, it's just that...you're the only land monster I've seen. Ever. So, like, there's a lot of weird things about you that I need to know about."

Alberto snorted. He placed his arms behind his back and looked to Luca with a glint of a challenge in his eyes. "Like what?"

"Like your stubby claws, for one." Without hesitation Luca grabbed for one of Alberto's hands, crawling to sit beside him and examined his fingers and nails chewed down to tiny stubs. "They're so weird. You can't do anything with these."

Alberto only watched with a smug look to conceal his awe.

"I'm gonna skip the whole no-tail thing," Luca continued, scanning Alberto's body. He drank in his skin and the shiny stuff that looked like water beading along his temple and around his tank top. It seemed cool, and he wanted to touch it but he kept his hand back.

"Alright, have you had your fun already? I know I'm not as amazing as you are," Alberto asked while Luca crawled closer to pat his fluffed up curls. "Not everyone can be a sea monster."

"Okay, now this is weird," Luca commented on Alberto's messy hair. His hands moved slowly to his forehead, checking to see Alberto's flat expression when his claws grazed the sides of his face.

"...What?" Alberto asked, leaning closer. "So, you're touching my face?"

Luca blushed and let his hands rest on each side of his jaw, holding him in place. "You don't, uh, feel anything?" If he could only slip his fingers beneath Alberto's ears...that was the most delicate part. That was where he'd scent him.

His breath hitched, and all he'd done was touch his cheeks. Scent him? He couldn't, he wasn't a sea monster. But...something in him wanted to. It really, really did.

"Am I supposed to feel something else? All I feel are your slimy paws on my face."

Luca hissed playfully. "Slimy? It's a natural coating. I'd dry up out here if I didn't have it...And they aren't paws, Alberto. They're hands just like yours."

"My fingers aren't webbed." Alberto held up one hand to make his point.

"Whatever."

"Why are you asking anyway?"

"Because," Luca let his gaze drift over Alberto's face, shiny with sweat and dotted in freckles. "Because it's supposed to, uh--"

"Does it...feel differently for you?" Alberto stared with new knowledge at Luca's face. "Is that why?"

Luca couldn't breathe. He only nodded. Alberto registered the breath Luca was holding, his yellow eyes wide and pupils blown.

"Ah, okay," Alberto whispered. He sat up straighter and lifted one hand off the grass, placing it directly on Luca's cheeks, his thumbs just grazing the base of his audial fins. His thumb and index fingers gently took hold of them, feeling their slippery texture almost in the way Alberto might relish in the softness of velvet. His touch was soft, tentative and curious but most of all wholly him.

All of the sea water that was dripping down Luca's face had dried up, and in its place was the shock that Alberto was touching him, not just touching his hand or his shoulder, but his hands were--

He couldn't even finish his line of thought. When he was touching him, the pain that had pooled in his stomach lightened. But it didn't stop the tingling that spread all through his legs and up his spine.

Alberto hummed his interest, gauging Luca's pinched face for any sort of reaction, before letting his wonder get the best of him as he slipped his fingers behind his fins, just above his gills.

"Hmm," Eyes shining, dark pools leaving Luca helpless as to what Alberto was doing. "These gills are interesting. They don't feel like the normal ones you see on a fish or a shark. You know, my Papa taught me all about marine biology, but maybe it's a bit different in your case. Though this seems to be the same..."

To refer his point Alberto ran his index finger in a slow, agonizing circle there on his skin.

A pathetic little purr rose in Luca's throat, and he hurried to correct his mistake by slapping his hand over his mouth.

He spoke around his own hand covering his lips. "Mngh! I'm sorry! I just! You're--"

Alberto shushed him and peeled Luca's hand away. "S'okay. Sensitive, huh? I guess I didn't think of that."

Luca bit his lip and nodded, clamping his tongue between his teeth. "Very."

His gaze lightened a bit, flicking over to Luca's cheeks tinged a deep, flushed blue. He let his eyes roam down to his throat, where he could see his frantic pulse beating away, trying to keep himself under control. And, finally, to the dappled line of brighter, more opalescent scales that trailed down Luca's waist until they disappeared into the hem of his mossy shorts.

Luca knew those what those markings on his skin were, such a light blue it teetered on the edge of pink.

They were signs of a sea monster in heat.

Luca swallowed hard, his throat much too dry, while Alberto's green eyes soaked him up. Alberto's next words were chosen carefully, softly spoken, barely a puff of electric air around his warm scales. When did they get so close?

"Is it...a bad sensitive?" Alberto pressed, genuinely interested, and lifted the pressure of his hands off of Luca's gills. "Or a good one?"

Luca snapped his jaws tight, he could feel the blood drumming in his throat at that. Somehow he found himself drifting to Alberto for the curve of his chest, both arms on him created a little curve for Luca to hide in. His heady scent drove him further, enough to rest his temple on Alberto's collarbones, lungs burning to keep his breathing normal. Alberto stiffened around Luca's touch, but only for a moment. He sighed and his fingers resumed their teasing touches along his neck.

"A g-good one," Luca breathed out. That painful burn pooled in his stomach, making those pink scales itch and Luca couldn't help but put his hand there on his belly to suppress the cramping. But that wasn't all that was bothering him. He realized, as the pads of Alberto's fingers pressed on his gills, on his scent glands, a warm pleasure bubbled up like molten honey hidden in his shorts, and he knew he had to scoot away before it was too late.

What would he think of him then?

That he was just some gross, horny little fish seeking comfort from everything that didn't make sense and find the answers in the arms of a boy?

But Alberto wasn't just some boy, Luca chided himself. As much as he wanted to side with the rational portion of his brain the other, more primal parts of him knew that there was someone here, there was a boy here, in his space.

A strong, tall boy who had his arms wrapped around him and could probably smell the heat on him.

But that boy also was so tantalizingly close, the dull ache in Luca's stomach erupted when he buried his face into the crook of Alberto's neck. Alberto's scent changed in an instant. A deeper, muskier smell that had a spike of fear that dissipated in an instant. He growled, and nudged his nose up to the base of Alberto's jaw, tasting his richness in the air.

Luca's tail whipped out from behind him and latched onto Alberto's bare ankle, tugging lightly and flaring up his fins to display. He would make such a good mate, Luca thought deliriously, letting his mouth part. He would leave such lovely marks on his skin to show for it.

"Luca, are you alright?" Alberto tensed, and his grip on Luca loosened.

Luca wriggled uncomfortably with the heat that trembled and throbbed between his legs, opening his mouth poised on Alberto's neck, only thinking of the blood rushing through him and the need to be full. His teeth kissed the sweat on Alberto's neck, and Luca let out a whimper in surprise.

"So pretty...you smell so good, Alberto." Luca mused. The heat wasn't allowing him to think clearly anymore, his head was muddled with Alberto's scent and the overarching desire to claim him. He rose off his knees, while Alberto held his breath in confusion, and Luca pressed his full weight onto Alberto in one sloppy motion. His hips stuttered as they met Alberto's waist, relieved to have some friction, and Luca already knew the other boy could feel what had been dripping there. "P-Please, I need you."

Alberto gasped and shoved him off, harshly. Luca fell back into the hot grass, the towel around his shoulders stank of mildew and heat. He blinked back at Alberto, who was scrambling up on his feet, chest rising in uneven bursts of air. As he stood he blocked the sun and his entire front half was bathed in shadow. But the absence of the sun did not hide the blush that blistered along Alberto's nose, not a delicate rose in bloom but like an aggressive blaze that colored its path. So much that it reached the tips of his ears.

Neither spoke for minutes. Both breathing heavy, one in shock and the other in embarrassment, sweat dripping from their skin. Alberto felt the spot Luca had left on his neck, then shuddered when he saw the unhinged glint in Luca's yellow eyes.

"I'm sorry...I can't control it," Luca whispered. His breath caught on the wind, raw with shame and a tumult of conflicting emotions, and he wouldn't be surprised if Alberto didn't hear him.

Alberto took another step back when Luca crawled out of the towel and went to the edge of the pool. "What do you mean you can't control it? What the hell were you even going on about?"

Luca, eyes streaming, slipped into the water without a sound. The cool waves lapped at his hot scales and they soothed him, but only on the outside. There was something twisting around inside of him that wouldn't go away, even if he wanted it to.

He couldn't control the way he felt.

He glanced over his shoulder before murmuring. "I'm in heat."

[ironmandeficiency]

rain clouds

pairing: maxwell lord / reader

word count: 2813

summary: i don’t even know what to say abt this one except it’s filled with yearning

a/n: this was gonna be super soft and happy but then it got soft and sad and then soft and happy again. posting from mobile yet again. tbh idek if this makes a lick of sense, we will see

warnings: mentions of shitty parents (maxwell’s dad & alistair’s mom), hints at child neglect & cps, anxious max, don't worry it gets fluffy

maxwell lord hasn’t had a day off since he founded black gold cooperative. that business was his baby long before he had a living baby with his ex wife, and loved both just as much. there was no such thing as a “sick day” to max; any day spent sleeping or healing is a day lost in the pursuit of greatness, the pilgrimage to the top of the corporate food chain. the only one he would ever make an exception for is alistair, and even then work would sometimes interrupt.

there was a time, almost too long ago for him to vividly remember, where maxwell did more than work. when he actually got his hands dirty in something that didn’t have anything to do with corporate schemes, and laughed with genuine glee more often than scowled. it was a long time ago now, and no one would ever believe it if they were told that maxwell lord ever got dirty with, well, dirt.

“come on! you gotta try this, it’s great!” the memories of his only friend have become worn with constant reminiscing, his mind unsure as to what’s real and what he imagined to fill in the gaps left by age and new priorities.

maxwell had found a secluded section of the park down the street from the apartment you both lived in, one safe from the eyes of bullies and adults alike. his feet were bare as the day he was born while making leaps and bounds in the abundant mud puddles from yesterday’s rain. he did his best to not let what little joy he found be dwindled by circumstance — his shitty father and reticent mother and the lingering ghost of poverty — the way others lost theirs. max believed himself different than that and carried himself as such no matter what others said.

you were still on the sidewalk, watching your best friend with awe and curiosity. the idea of traipsing through mud barefooted was exhilarating, but you knew that if your clothes got dirty, your mother would hang you out to dry alongside the clothes you were wearing. how did it feel to have the mud between your toes, the rainwater soaking into your skin? you didn’t remember, but you would like to.

to be honest, maxwell didn’t expect you to join him. he didn’t think you would ever try to break out of the box of propriety your family shoved you in, not now or ever. but the next thing he knew, he heard another set of feet splashing around in the puddles he had just vacated, making a path to where he stood. a playful shriek he knew as yours rang through the air and he immediately turned to you, wanting to see your face as you enjoyed yourself for the first time in a long time. “maxwell, this is wonderful! why didn’t you get me to do this earlier?”

you never looked more beautiful to him than when the afternoon sun shone on you, your smile bright and laughter clear and joyous. you were free as lady liberty, splashing around like there wasn’t a single other thing you had to do. then you take his hand and max swears that he’s seeing stars. before you know it, you’re dancing in the mud to the song of the birds in the trees. is it just max’s imagination, or do you tell him you love him?

your lips are on his and it’s magic. his shirt is being gripped in tight fists and his hands are magnetized to your waist, holding each other tight enough to need a crowbar to separate you. there’s nowhere he would rather be than back there with you…

but it’s been far too many years since he’s seen or heard from you, there’s no telling if you’re even in the country still at this point. it took a long time for him to not dolefully gaze at every door you could walk through once he left for college, hoping to see that radiant smile and hear you say his name so reverently.

but these days, reverence is the last thing maxwell thinks he deserves, not after the dreamstone debacle. hell, he isn’t even completely convinced that he can adequately take care of alistair despite the low standards his father and his ex-wife have presented him with. despite these doubts (and the perplexing way that everyone acted as if he never almost took over the world), he was just given full custody of alistair when the school called cps on his ex-wife for neglect. it was a terrible way to get a second chance at doing right by his son, but it’s a second chance nonetheless.

after seeing sense and liquidating black gold while he still could get something to survive with, he and alistair found a two bedroom apartment in a nice part of town. it was miniscule compared to what he had but it was a sight more than what he could have ended up with. besides, max had no time to be frivolous when he had his son to protect.

back to the grindstone he went. he knew that people would recognize him if he kept his current appearance and name, so he retired the lord name and decided on another fresh start. he slowly adjusted to using lorenzano after so many years rejecting it, got the blond removed from his hair. he found a job in financial advisory, and ironically enough, he was damn good at it. he knows what he’s doing when it comes to money that isn’t his, who’d have thought?

he actually knew a couple people from work that he almost considered friends. honestly he wasn’t sure what that word meant anymore, didn’t remember the feelings that were supposed to be associated with having them. but it was enough, truly more than enough; because this progress meant that he was dragging himself out of the grave he dug, because he was taking care of his son first and foremost.

alistair was put into a new school; nothing fancy, just the nicer public school that was a pleasing midpoint between work and their apartment. the first day he attended, alistair came home with so many good stories about the friends he made and the games they played at recess. within a few months he had been contacted by his teacher who had nothing but praise for little alistair lorenzano. his little boy was excelling and max couldn’t have been more proud than he was during that phone call. seconds after he hung up, he found alistair in his bedroom and wrapped him in a massive hug, making sure to emphasize the fact that max was proud of his son.

and then there was his neighbor. they lived across the hall from him and max would only catch the tail end of their arrivals and departures to their apartment. he did think it was rather odd, their strangely adept ability at avoiding him. if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was on purpose.

it wasn't intentional — not quite.

you had been avoiding your neighbor, but it had nothing to do with the oil commercials or dreamstone debacle — your new neighbor made you sad. the feeling would hit every time you saw him. his mere presence dusted off long-worn and cherished memories of a time where the sun felt warmer on your skin, where smiles came easier than heartache.

it took a long while before you realized why: it was because this mystery man reminded you of a love long lost to the dagger of circumstance. something about his walk, or maybe his hands during the times you’d see him open his apartment door, reminded you of what an older maxwell lorenzano could have been. the section of your heart that housed your thoughts of maxwell had been wrapped in caution tape with every hazard sign known to man flashing around it for many years, not wanting to venture there for more than a few moments in fear of hurting yourself even more.

if only you realized it was really max that you were so adamantly avoiding.

three months went by of max wondering why he still has yet to meet his neighbor. not that it was imperative to his daily survival, but his curiosity was all but tearing him apart at the seams. he didn’t know what else to do; yes he wanted to know his neighbor, but how did he go about that when they never saw each other?

“just knock on their door, daddy. be their friend, like you tell me to do when i go to school.” the childlike innocence alistair speaks with betrays the actual feasibility of the idea. maxwell was overthinking everything! people talked to their neighbors all the time! this could just be a simple “hey are you doing okay?” and the chips would fall where they may.

maxwell ruffles his son’s hair affectionately, pulling him into a small hug. “you know what? that’s exactly what i’m gonna do. thanks buddy, i’ll be right back.” it’s only across the hall, max isn’t gonna be gone long.

it’s been years since he’s done anything this casually daring. everything he did for decades was all high risk yielding high reward. talking to his neighbor should seem simple in comparison — it presented no drastic consequence if it went belly up, he almost never saw his neighbor anyway. that wouldn’t change after he finally sated his curiosity, certainly not.

once alistair’s homework is finished and is entranced by the television, maxwell decides to head next door, being sure that the house keys are in his pocket before shutting the door. he probably should have thought it out more than he did — he had no idea about his neighbor’s work schedule or if they had kids or a spouse, if they were a serial killer or an introvert. or even worse, if they happened to be someone who remembers everything he’s done. that would be his luck, his first true attempt at making a friend being thwarted with the magnitude of his past sins.

he doesn’t hear his own front door open, alistair’s head poking out to watch his dad. “knock, daddy!” he whisper-shouts and nearly shakes maxwell out of his skin. the little boy laughs at his dad’s startled expression before nodding and shutting the door back.

max went to knock but realized with his knuckles only an inch from the wood that his hands were peculiarly slippery. when did maxwell’s hands get so clammy? there was nothing to be nervous about. he was just going to attempt to make a friend, like his son simplified.

but the thing is, maxwell knows that it’s been decades since he’s had a friend. the last time someone outside of his son was kind to him not for the zeroes he wrote in checkbooks was you, and sometimes he even doubted that you were real. there are hazy memories of him as a teen that splashed in mud puddles and kissed a being of pure sunshine with the innocence of youth. he hopes they’re real, for his sake and for the sunshine he romped around the park with. maybe memories of him are keeping you sane the way your memory did for him.

as his thoughts spiraled, maxwell lost his nerve. with a heaping dose of irrationality, he didn’t want to disappoint whoever was on the other side of the door. turns out, there was no one on the other side.

“excuse me, did you need something?”

your first instinct when seeing a man almost knocking on your apartment door, on a normal day, was not to be so polite. but you were having a strangely good day and there was no reason to bring down the positive energy with an abrasive attitude. plus, the man looked so conflicted. he seemed to need a friend.

“i, uh, live across the hall, have been for a few months and never got to meet you.” a small gesture to the side shifted your attention to the door across from yours — and the little boy who had the door cracked just enough to see the interaction between you and who you think must be his dad.

this man’s voice, something about it was familiar. he moved from in front of your door and extended his hand towards you in an effort for a decent introduction. “i’m maxwell lor-lorenzano.”

maxwell lorenzano. you never would have thought that out of all the people to have graced this apartment building, he would be one. his hands were still softly strong and shoulders still broad. his eyes were still the same striking shade of brown, but there was a lot more pain there, a lot of experience that was clearly pushing him down by his shoulders and into the depths of anguish. yet there he was, keeping his head above water and still being kind. this truly was your max.

you take his hand with a soft smile, squeezing it gently as you give your name. “it’s been a long time, max.”

max couldn’t believe it. after all these years, it was you.

you had moved in across the street from him in his early teenage years and had become acquainted when walking to school and home. the two of you trekked through high school together, ignoring the cruelty of classmates and focusing on getting to the future, to freedom. hope of being friends after high school was abundant in the beginning, but soon your paths sent you further and further away from each other and towards a future neither of you were sure you wanted without the other.

“it really has been a while. i- i uh,” he could barely string a sentence together anymore. his shock and joy of seeing you again had his brain melting into goo and his tongue an almost immovable weight. “i missed you.” the blood rushed to your face the way it always did when you were with max. even when stuttering over his words and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, he was still charming.

max noticed your attire and the wet umbrella in hand and was immediately taken back to that day spent in the park after it rained, when he . the sunshine on his skin, your smile that never failed to take his breath away…

a soft smile was on max’s lips but his eyes were somewhere else. “max? is everything okay?”

“do you remember the day we went to the park, when we splashed in the puddles and-“

“and when i kissed you? i could never forget if i tried.”

you really did kiss him! it made him want to do it again, as many times as you would let him. but that brought one little stipulation with it: alistair.

what would you say when you found out he had a son?

before max’s thoughts could dampen your reunion, you continued, and with every word, you solidified your place in his heart. “maybe we could do that again some time, just like we used to. and you could bring your son too, if you’d like.” you were jumping out on a limb by assuming that the little boy was his son, but with the apparent protectiveness max displayed around him when you see them together, what else could he be?

“that sounds so fun! can we, dad?” alistair made his presence known by pummeling into max’s legs, nearly knocking him over with an excited hug. you grinned at the affection, watching max’s eyes fill with warmth as he gazed at his son. “i don’t see why not. just change into some play clothes and get your raincoat from the hall closet.”

alistair shoots with glee and is immediately running back to the apartment, excited to change clothes and play in the rain. you watch max’s eyes as they light up at alistair’s happiness, that flicker reminding of you of when you were younger and the world was kinder to you both.

here was your second chance with max, another opportunity to be with someone who never stopped loving you even as the seasons changed and the zeroes increased. “i’ll let you guys get changed, come knock when you’re ready to go.”

feeling an uptick in bravery, max placed a quick peck to your cheek before he turned toward his apartment. “will do, see you in a few.” the risk he took was well worth seeing you grow bashful at the affection, eyes flitting to your shoes before back at him, a soft smile across your lips. you watched him walk away before going back into your apartment, waiting for the rest of your life to begin at the rapping of knuckles on solid oak.

maxwell lord taglist & others: @phoenixhalliwell @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @obirain @themarcusmoreno @captainrexstan @battletales @stardustsunrisekisses @senator-nahberries @max--phillips @jedi-mando @veracruz-djarin @andysficrecs @purelypascal @whovianwar @iv7867 @kaermorons @princess76179 @pedropasscals

[maybeimamuppet]

guess who?

hello friends, happy Wednesday!! this work is a birthday present to myself, so before we get into it: spoiler for the title, its a baby.

trigger warnings for:

pregnancy/childbirth (literally as non-graphic as I could possibly make it)

mentioned infertility

mentioned miscarriage

pregnancy complcations

otherwise, please enjoy!

-

Janis sighs heavily as she toes off her shoes. It’s her birthday, but she still had to go to work and had an exceptionally long day teaching angsty middle schoolers. All she really wants is a lot of food and a good cuddle session with her wife, Cady.

Their pets come up to greet her as she takes off her jacket, demanding their daily scratches. Janis obliges, rubbing Elvira’s head and scritching behind Daffodil’s ears. Daffy shakes her head once Janis stands back to flip the light on. Her collar shifts, and Janis suddenly notices the note tied to it.

“Aww, Daffy, a message for me?” Janis coos, bending down again to untie it and petting them both one more time. She’s not sure if her wife is home, since all the lights are off except the one in the kitchen. Maybe this will explain things. She unrolls it and reads,

Happy birthday, my love. First present for you in the bedroom ;) Love, C

“Hmm. Caddy?” Janis calls as she heads that way. She quiets when she opens the door. It turns out Cady is home, she’s just asleep. She’s on top of the covers and wearing one of Janis’ jackets, which is their usual formula for a special night. The jacket is buttoned, which is a bit odd. Cady usually leaves them undone to show off whatever cute lingerie she’s picked. But she’s covered their bed in rose petals, that’s a nice touch.

Janis doesn’t want to wake her up yet, so she changes out of her work clothes in the dark. She hears a sleepy groan come from behind her as she tugs a comfy shirt over her head, turning around to find Cady mid-stretch.

“Hi, lovey,” Cady yawns as she reaches for her. “Happy birthday.”

“Hi, baby,” Janis chuckles affectionately, coming to cuddle her and flipping a light on. “Thanks. How was your day?”

“Good! I got a lot done, and Daffy and I had a nice walk,” Cady replies. “How about you, how was your day?”

“It was fine,” Janis says with a small yawn. “Long.”

“Aww. Would your present make you feel better?” Cady asks, stroking through her hair. Janis perks up a little at the reminder.

“Oh, yeah, what do I get?” She asks excitedly.

“You’ll just have to unwrap it and find out,” Cady purrs, gesturing to herself.

“You just woke up, are you sure-whoa, okay,” Janis replies as Cady starts kissing her hungrily. Janis kisses back for a long moment before she starts working her way down, kissing and nipping at her neck.

She undoes the buttons one by one as she works her way down Cady’s chest, until eventually she feels something other than her soft skin against her lips and pulls back in confusion. It’s another message, painted across Cady’s tummy. The top of whatever it says is just barely peeking out.

Frowning confusedly, Janis undoes the rest of the buttons in one go and pulls the flaps of the jacket apart, revealing the words,

Guess who?

Janis gasps and claps her hands over her mouth, letting out a happy sob. “Are you for real?! We-we’re gonna be mamas?”

Cady gives a watery chuckle, already crying too. “Yeah, Jay, we are. I’m for real. Are you excited?”

“Oh my god!” Janis sobs, pulling her wife upright to hug her tightly. “Of course I’m excited, there’s a baby in you! When did you find out?”

“I’ve known for about two weeks, kind of, but I found out for sure yesterday,” Cady says. “I took a bunch of tests after you went to bed, and they’re all positive.”

“Is that why you were crying? You never told me what was wrong,” Janis says, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Because nothing was wrong,” Cady giggles. “But yeah. I didn’t want to tell you yet, or it would’ve ruined my whole plan.”

“And when you said you got food poisoning last week, that was...” Janis suddenly puts several pieces together.

“Morning sickness,” Cady grins. She leans over to her bedside table and opens the drawer, pulling out a little stick. Janis takes it with shaky hands, staring intently at the Pregnant+ on the small screen. “I’m already showing a little, look.”

Cady turns to the side and pulls the jacket away. She’s right, the slight swell of her belly at the bottom is already a tiny bit bigger.

“Isn’t it early for you to be showing?” Janis asks, looking back and forth between the test and her wife.

“A little, but I’m small,” Cady replies with a shrug. “I’m about five weeks, that’s pretty normal for someone my size, I think.”

Janis reaches tentatively to feel her tummy, but pulls back just before she touches. Cady takes her hand gently and rests it on her lower abdomen.

“There’s a baby there,” Janis mumbles.

“Yeah, there is,” Cady chuckles, drying the leftover tears from Janis’ cheeks. “Our baby. Breathe, sweetheart, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m not!” Janis insists. “I’m just... happy. And scared. We... we’re having a kid.”

“Don’t be scared yet, we have time to prepare. Everything’s fine,” Cady comforts. “You’re gonna be such a good mom.”

“So are you,” Janis replies. “When do we get to see them?”

“A couple weeks. There’s not really much to see right now, they probably don’t even have a heartbeat yet,” Cady says. “But soon. Unless... unless something goes wrong again, then we’ll need to go in sooner. But I feel good about this one.”

“I do too. They say third time’s the charm,” Janis replies, rubbing her thumb gently over her belly. She feels as if the weight of the world is resting beneath her hand.

This was their third time trying for a child. The first time, none of their embryos had implanted successfully. The second, Cady miscarried in the third week. They’d spent months mourning their losses each time before they were even willing to try again.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Cady replies, leaning in for a kiss.

“Do you still wanna...” Janis asks, gesturing to the emerald green lingerie Cady still has on.

“Oh yeah,” Cady purrs, pulling Janis back on top of her.

“Cool,” Janis breathes.

————-

Halloween rolls around exactly two weeks later. It’s Janis’ favorite holiday, and this one is made extra special by the fact that she gets to see her child for the first time. She’s distracted through her whole day at work, wanting to be done so she can go home and then to the doctor with her wife.

“Christ, lovey,” Cady jumps as Janis throws the door open. “Hi.”

“Hi, sorry, are you okay?” Janis apologizes frantically, coming to hug her and protectively resting a hand on her tummy.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Cady giggles. “I take it you’re excited?”

“Of course I’m excited, Peanut,” Janis says happily. “We get to see our little peanut, I wanna go!”

“Okay, okay,” Cady laughs. “Our appointment isn’t for two hours, Jellybean, we have time.”

“And the place is forty-five minutes away, it’s late and a holiday so there’s gonna be traffic,” Janis says rapidly. She pauses with a sigh to calm herself.  “I just want to make sure they’re okay.”

“I’m sure they’re fine, Jay. I feel fine,” Cady says soothingly. “I feel good, actually.”

“Good,” Janis breathes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you’re excited,” Cady chuckles. “Let’s go.”

-

Two hours later, Cady is checked in at the doctor and they’re sitting eagerly in the waiting room. Cady is fiddling with Janis’ fingers to distract herself.

“Sarkisian-Heron?” A nurse suddenly calls from the doorway nearby. Janis leaps up happily and holds out a hand for Cady. They follow her back and get Cady prepped, lying her on the uncomfortable table as Janis stands behind her.

The doctor comes in a few minutes after the nurse leaves, knocking on the doorframe as she enters. “Hello, ladies, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Cady chuckles anxiously. Janis squeezes her hand gently.

“Let’s get right into it, shall we? How have you been feeling, anything you’re concerned about?” The doctor asks, making conversation to distract Cady as she begins the scan. Janis winces slightly at the process.

“I don’t think so,” Cady hums. “I’m exhausted and I’ve been… really sick, but I’m not worried about anything.”

“Sounds typical so far,” the doctor says pensively. “When did you have them implanted?”

“Sometime in September, I’d have to check to know when exactly,” Cady replies. The doctor’s eyebrows suddenly lift high on her forehead, then furrow. “Is something wrong?”

“How many embryos did you have done?” The doctor asks, shifting again slightly and seeming to ignore the question.

“Just the one, this time, that’s all we could do,” Cady sounds more frightened with every word. “Are they okay?”

“They are absolutely fine. You’re having identical twins,” the doctor says.

“What?!” Janis and Cady yelp at the same time. Cady hears Janis fall to her knees behind her, but is in too much shock to even check if she’s okay.

“Twins?” She breathes anxiously.

“Identical?” Janis chokes in about the same tone.

“Mmhmm,” the doctor replies, turning the monitor to face them. There’s two black forms in a sea of grey static. “You’re actually rather lucky, usually the process for determining what type of twins are present is more involved. But since you only had one embryo done, identical twins are the only type feasible for you to have. Your first baby, baby A, is here. And this is baby B up here.”

“Twins,” Cady sobs happily. “Oh my god. And they’re both okay?”

“They’re perfectly fine. Their heartbeats both look strong and their development is on track. You have two healthy babies growing here, congratulations,” the doctor says.

“Janis, look,” Cady sobs again. “Are you okay?”

Janis perks up from the ground, having previously buried her face against Cady’s side where she’s attempting to process everything. She looks up at the monitor to see what Cady’s pointing to.

“We’re having twins,” Janis says as her own tears start pouring down her face. “I’m-I’m fine, Butterfly. Those... those are our babies. No wonder you’re already showing.”

“What does this mean? For us?” Cady asks the doctor, holding Janis’ hand so tightly.

“Well, for you specifically it means you’ll have to be a bit more careful. More frequent scans, take a few extra vitamins, eat more calories daily. Your babies seem to be sharing a placenta, so we’ll need to monitor them for twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome, but I have no reason to believe that anything should happen.”

“Okay,” Cady breathes anxiously.

“And it does also mean your chances of delivering prematurely are higher, but again, that’s not anything to be concerned about at the moment. Your babies are healthy, and we’ll do everything we can to deliver them when the time is right for them.”

“Okay,” Cady says again, trying not to worry. Janis leans in to kiss her cheek and her fears fade for the time being.

“Can we hear them?” Janis asks shyly. “The heartbeats?”

“Of course,” the doctor says, flicking a switch to turn sound on. A rapid pulsing sound fills the room. “Here’s baby A.”

Cady turns to look at Janis happily, and Janis leans in for a kiss on the lips this time. “That’s our baby, Janis.”

“Baby A,” Janis murmurs back. The doctor shifts and suddenly a second pulsing sound overlaps the first. “And… and baby B.”

“They both sound perfectly healthy,” the doctor says as she presses some buttons to take photos. She prints out copies of a few and hands them to Cady, along with several informational pamphlets. “Congratulations again, ladies.”

She leaves then, leaving Cady and Janis alone to process everything and then leave.

-

Cady drives home when she sees how hard Janis is shaking. Janis doesn’t speak the whole ride home, she just clutches Cady’s hand and stares at the ultrasound photos.

Janis turns to her once they’re home again. “I know this is terrible timing and I don’t want to worry you, but can I please have some alone time?”

“Of course, my love,” Cady replies, popping up on her toes for a quick kiss. “I’m gonna walk Daffy and make sure we have everything for Karen’s party on Friday, I’ll check on you in an hour?”

Janis nods. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jayjay.”

-

Exactly an hour later, Cady knocks on their bedroom door carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. With a touch of pumpkin spice, since it is Halloween. Janis pokes her head out from under the duvet. She’s spent the entire time staring at the photos.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Cady asks gently, handing one mug to Janis.

Janis takes it with a sigh. “I’m-I’m terrified, Caddy. We’re having twins, two babies. What if something happens to you, or to them? Or... or what if I can’t take care of them? Or tell them apart? Two kids is gonna be way more work than one, and I don’t know... any of what I need to. I want to be what you need, what they need. I just... I don’t know how.”

Cady takes their mugs gently and pulls her into a hug. “Oh, mpendwa. I’m scared too, you know. I’m small, this pregnancy is risky. You’re right, there is always a chance something could happen. But I’m so, so excited too. Because I’m doing this with you, my love. I’m carrying your babies. We’re doing this together. I have you to help keep me safe and help me raise these babies into great humans.”

Janis doesn’t say anything, just cuddles in closer and rests a gentle hand on Cady’s belly.

“And yeah, two is gonna be more work than one. But we can do it. We’ll learn what we need to and deal with stuff as it happens. Take it one day at a time,” Cady says, nuzzling her nose into Janis’ hair. “For today, we have two healthy little peanuts inside me.”

Janis grins at that. “I love you so much. And them. I’m excited too, I don’t want it to seem like I don’t want them. I get two mini-yous to love on. I’m just… really scared.”

“I love you too, darling,” Cady chuckles. “But you realize they’re more likely to be mini-yous, right? You have more dominant features.”

“Man,” Janis grumbles jokingly. “Oh well. We’ll just have to wait and find out, I guess.”

Cady reaches to hand her back her drink, taking a sip of her own. “Speaking of finding out, do you want to find out the sexes?”

“If you do,” Janis replies. “It doesn’t really matter to me. And it’s not a guarantee of who we’ll be raising, anyway.”

“I want to wait, I want it to be a surprise,” Cady says. “And you’re right. It always felt kind of creepy to me that people make such a big deal over the genitals of an infant.”

Janis laughs. “It is a little weird. Surprise babies it is.” She takes another drink. “Can I do something?”

“Sure,” Cady says confusedly. Janis suddenly dashes away and comes back with some black washable paint and a brush. She gently tugs up Cady’s shirt and writes,

Guess who? (Times two!)

Cady laughs when she sees it, and goes to stand by a blank wall so Janis can take a picture.

“Smile,” Janis says, pulling a goofy face to make her laugh.

“You’re such a dork, I love you,” Cady giggles. Janis snaps a few photos.

“There,” she says happily, letting Cady come see them. “I love you too.”

Cady smiles contently when she sees the pictures, then clicks the phone off and sets it on the nightstand. “Now comes the fun part of all this, you know?”

“Mm?” Janis hums confusedly, finishing off her delicious beverage.

“Now we have to tell everyone,” Cady says casually, finishing hers too.

“Oh, shit.”

—————

They tell their families on Thanksgiving. Every year both of their families have Thanksgiving dinner in their apartment. Usually Damian and his mom join them, but his mother couldn’t make it this year so he went back to Illinois to be with her.

Cady is very clearly pregnant now, and has to wear one of Janis’ oversized sweaters to hide her belly before they want it to be noticed. Paired with some dark leggings, nobody would ever notice anything about the outfit.

Janis and Cady both make anxious small talk with everyone as they help prepare the meal, and grin excitedly at each other as they go to set the table. They made special name cards for everyone this year. In between Janis and Cady’s spots are two mini plates, with ‘Baby A’ on one place setting, and ‘Baby B’ on the other.

Their dining table isn’t big enough for everyone to sit and have all the food on it at the same time, so they leave everything in the kitchen and call everyone to come grab their plates to load up buffet style.

Their moms seem to notice something’s amiss first, and Janis’ mom gasps when she sees the little plates. She makes a beeline for that side of the table to see what the name tags say, and shrieks excitedly when she reads them. Everyone else rushes to see what she’s looking at.

“Oh my god!” Their moms both nearly-yell excitedly at the same time, running to hug them. Juliana follows quickly, shaking a concerning amount in her excitement.

“I’m gonna be an auntie!” She squeals. “And there’s two!”

Cady smiles widely as Julie hugs her gently and feels her tummy. “You’ll be the best auntie, Jules. I can’t wait to see you with them.”

“Do you know if they’re identical?” Janis’ mom asks. She’s an identical twin herself,  Janis’ aunt Alice is her sister. Janis and her cousin, Veronica, both take after them and look nearly identical themselves.

“They are, I’m hoping you can give me some tips,” Cady chuckles. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

They both look up to see Cady’s dad visibly holding back tears, but they break through as Cady reaches for him.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just so happy for you,” he chokes, hugging his daughter tightly. “Twins, holy cow, binti.”

“I know,” Cady chuckles. “I love you. You’ll be a great grandad.”

Everyone crowds around both Cady and Janis in a group hug, sharing their love too.

“Okay, let’s eat. I’m eating for three now, I’m starving,” Cady jokes, taking her plate first and heading into the kitchen.

—————-

On Christmas Eve, Cady is finishing wrapping some final presents on their bed, cuddling Elvira on her lap as she works.

“Caddy?” Janis asks, entering from their living room. Cady checks to make sure anything that’s for Janis is hidden before she says she can come in.

“Yes, my love?” She asks, putting a last ribbon on a present and setting it aside.

“Can I paint on your tummy? I got this app on my phone that says what size the babies are,” Janis asks shyly. “Like, fruits and stuff. I thought it would be a cute way to track until they’re here.”

“Aww, Bluejay, of course,” Cady says as Janis rushes to grab her paints before coming back. “How big are they now?”

“It says they’re the size of peaches,” Janis responds, mixing some pink and a touch of orange together and brushing it over her wife’s belly.

“Aww, how cute,” Cady coos. “Precious little peaches.”

Janis just smiles happily at her, leaning down for a kiss before she adds some green leaves.

Cady just relaxes and enjoys the soothing texture of the paint. “This is nice. Oh, do you have any name ideas, by the way?”

“Not really, yet,” Janis replies. “But I have some rules.”

“Rules? Okay, shoot,” Cady says, looking up at her confusedly.

“The names can’t rhyme. That’s just gonna be annoying as they get older,” Janis says, adding some little details. “And they have to be spelled in a way that makes sense. I’m very tired of explaining that it’s Janis with an S, and I’m sure you’re tired of people calling you Caddy when they first read your name.”

“Yeah. You’re the only one I like calling me Caddy,” Cady grins fondly. “Okay, those are good rules. What if... are you okay with them starting with the same letter?”

“I can live with that,” Janis hums. “What letter?”

“I... no, never mind,” Cady says.

“No, what? I wanna know,” Janis pouts, adding two little happy faces on each peach.

“It’s stupid. But my favorite letter when I was little was L,” Cady mumbles. “I like the way it bends.”

“That’s not stupid, baby, it’s cute. L works for me,” Janis says.

“And I think we should each name one twin,” Cady says. “And then switch for middle names?”

“Sure. Do you have any names picked?” Janis asks, resting everything down on the palette and cuddling her wife while they wait for it to dry.

“Not first names,” Cady says. “But I want one of their middle names to be Rhys. Or Reese with the E’s, if they’re girls.”

“Of course, I love it,” Janis says, leaning down to kiss her.

“What about you, do you have anything?” Cady asks as she kisses her back sweetly.

“Um... since we’re doing L, could we name a boy Luca? After my dad?” Janis asks.

“That’s perfect,” Cady says, sounding choked up. “Luca Rhys. I love it.”

“Why are you crying?” Janis asks worriedly, cuddling her closer.

“I don’t know,” Cady sobs. “We just... we just named one of our babies, maybe. And-and you, I just love you so much!”

Ah. Hormones. “Oh, baby, I love you too. I love all three of you, come here,” Janis says, kissing her temple. “This probably isn’t a great time, but I have middle names picked already too.”

“What did you pick?” Cady sniffles, luckily calming down pretty quickly.

“Damian, if it’s a boy,” Janis says. “I have to. I couldn’t do it as a first name, I can’t handle two of them. But... I owe him so much.”

“I like it,” Cady grins through her tears. “What about for a girl?”

“Juliette. After my mom,” Janis says, wiping her tears away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” Cady sniffles again. “So, Luca Rhys and something Damian, or something Reese and something Juliette. I like it.”

“Good,” Janis chuckles. “The paint should be dry now, do you still want to take your picture?”

“Yeah, might as well,” Cady chuckles. “I want to remember this. Crying because we chose a name and I’m in love with my wife.”

Janis laughs. “Go stand over there, Sunshine.”

Cady does, finally looking down and seeing Janis’ work. “Oh, Jayjay, they’re so cute! The little faces!”

Janis takes a picture then, finding Cady’s candid moments somehow even cuter than her posing. “There, got it.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Cady says confusedly.

“You didn’t have to,” Janis says lovingly. “Come see.”

Cady starts to, but freezes suddenly as her eyes go wide.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Janis asks frantically.

“Come here, come here,” Cady says excitedly. Janis does, and Cady grabs her hand and rests it against the side of her tummy. Janis is confused until she feels a little pop beneath her.

“Is-is that...” She asks, already starting to cry as well.

“One of them is kicking,” Cady laughs through her tears. “That’s one of our babies.”

“Does it hurt?” Janis asks in wonder, resting her other hand on the other side. At her touch, the other twin sets off and starts kicking too.

“It feels like a tiny little kick, yeah,” Cady chuckles. “Little jolt. But that’s so exciting, Jay. This one must really love you, they only kicked when you came over.”

Janis bends down and peppers kisses all over the top of her belly. “Hello babies. I love you both so, so much. But it’s not nice to kick your mother, she’s doing a lot to get you here. And don’t kick each other, either.”

“You’re such a dork, you’re so cute,” Cady chuckles, threading her fingers through Janis’ short hair.

“I love you so much,” Janis says, leaning up again to kiss Cady’s lips this time.

“I love you too. Merry Christmas, love,” Cady whispers against her.

“Merry Christmas, Peanut.”

—————

They tell all their friends on New Year’s Eve. Every year they have a party to celebrate, and do their holiday gift exchange then as well, since they’re all with their families for the actual holidays.

Cady and Janis stayed in New York this year, so their friends already sort of know something is up. It’s still safe for Cady to travel, but she was uncomfortable doing anything that might strain their babies. Their families did Christmas and Thanksgiving all in one, instead.

The party is at Damian and Aaron’s apartment this year. Damian opens the door to find them both holding large stacks of presents. They got everyone little things individually, and then the baby announcements from both of them.

“Hey, gu-whoa,” Damian greets as he opens the door. “That’s a lot of presents, here.”

He takes about half of each of their stacks and carries them into the living room. Janis takes what’s left of her wife’s and follows after him. There’s a lovely tree and menorah set up, and he helps her arrange everything among all the other presents.

“Oh no wait, keep those separate,” Janis says. He looks at her confusedly but does so, resting all of the most important gifts to the side. “It’s a group thing, they’re all the same, I don’t want them to get mixed up.”

“Ah, okay. How was your lonely Christmas here?” Damian asks, finally able to hug his friends now that all the gifts are in their proper places.

“It was kind of nice, actually, we just watched Christmas movies and cuddled the pets all day,” Janis responds. She hopes he won’t ask her why they had to stay behind. She can’t lie to save her life.

“Living the dream,” Damian says instead, making Janis breathe a sigh of relief. “Caddy, why are you all the way over there?”

Cady’s been watching them and trying to figure out how to hug people without revealing their secret too soon. “Oh, just admiring the view,” she teases, approaching from the side and leaning in very gently. Damian hasn’t noticed anything amiss, somehow. “Are we the first ones here?”

“No, you’re the last, actually,” Damian chuckles. “The Plastics all went to help Aaron in the kitchen.”

As if on cue, Gretchen and Karen follow Aaron out of the kitchen then. The girls both squeal when they see Cady and come to hug her before moving to Janis. Aaron follows suit too.

Regina didn’t come with them, so Cady heads into the kitchen alone to greet her while Janis helps with everything in the living room. Cady finds Regina alone and sipping a glass of champagne.

“Hey, Gina,” she says quietly, pouring herself a flute of the non-alcoholic variety. Regina whirls around with a quiet yelp.

“Oh, Cady. Hi, sorry, I didn’t hear you guys get here or I would’ve gone out with everyone,” she says once she sees it’s just her friend.

“It’s fine,” Cady chuckles as she takes a sip. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted a minute to thank. Reflect on the year, you know?” Regina says quietly.

“I get that,” Cady says meaningfully. She can suddenly see the gears turning in Regina’s brain as she looks her up and down oddly. “What?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing, sorry,” Regina says hastily, taking another drink.

“It’s fine, but really, what is it?” Cady says.

“Are you pregnant?” Regina asks quietly.

Cady chokes on her drink and looks around to make sure nobody else can hear them. “Um, yeah. How could you tell?”

Regina squeals excitedly. “You’re wearing a loose dress and flats when heels would clearly go better with it, you’re not drinking real alcohol even though New Year’s is the only time you drink, you didn’t go home for Christmas, and you keep touching your stomach.”

“Do I?” Cady asks. Upon looking down she notices her hand is, in fact, resting gently on her tummy. “Oh. Oops.”

“Congratulations!” Regina squeals. “Can I do your maternity pictures?”

“God, yes please,” Cady says in relief.

“Yay! Come on, you have to tell everyone else, I need time to fight with Damian about who gets to throw your baby shower,” Regina insists happily, putting her drink back in her hand and pushing her gently towards the living room. Cady pauses to grab one more glass of actual champagne for her wife before she goes.

Janis looks at her as she comes back, checking that she’s okay. Cady nods and comes over to her. “Here, love. Regina knows, but she won’t tell anyone.”

“How did she find out?” Janis asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

“She’s a therapist? She read me like an open book in thirty seconds flat and asked me point blank, I couldn’t lie,” Cady chuckles. “Get D to do the presents now, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Okay,” Janis replies. “Damie!”

“What?” Damian groans from the couch, where he’s cuddling his boyfriend and finally eating his snacks.

“Can we do presents now pleeeeeeeeease?” Janis begs, trying her hardest to make it seem like she wants to receive her presents and not give them.

“Fine. Who wants to go first?” Damian asks, hauling himself back upright and heading to the pile of presents. Cady and Janis both keep quiet, deciding they should probably go last.

Karen eventually volunteers Gretchen, who looks at her aghast. It turns out she took up crocheting over the past year and made everyone blankets in their favorite colors. They all get different baked goods from Regina, who explains that Gretchen has been teaching her how to cook and bake. Karen gives everyone very expensive face masks that are somehow perfectly catered to their skin types.

Damian and Aaron go next. Damian gives everyone fun socks with different animals on them. Cady’s have lions, Janis’ have turtles, Gretchen’s have cats, Karen’s have mice, and Regina’s have bunnies. From anyone else it would be a lame gift, but Damian is a professional. Aaron handmade each household a wreath for their doors. It’s a little late to use them now, but they promise to next year.

There’s a noticeable energy shift when it comes to Cady and Janis’ gifts. They try their hardest to act natural as they give their individual presents. Cady made little dishes in a pottery class she had done as a special date with Janis, and Janis painted mini portraits of all of them based on photos she had.

Janis then corrals everyone to sit together on the couch, somehow without arousing suspicion. Regina is on one arm and Aaron is on the other, with Gretchen, Karen, and Damian all squished together in the middle.

“This is from both of us but don’t open them yet,” she says as she hands out the packages. Cady is sneakily filming behind her, and turns to grin at her as Janis comes to hug her from behind. “Okay, read the cards first.”

She and Cady had made the cards by hand, decorating them with different cute designs. They all say the same thing, however: ‘Happy Holidays from Janis, Cady, L. & L. Sarkisian-Heron’.

Damian makes it to the end of the message first, and his brows furrow in confusion as he tears into his package. They shoot back up his forehead when he pulls out a t-shirt that says ‘Best gay uncle ever’ and everyone else follows his lead, pulling out matching ones with their respective sexualities and auntie or uncle titles. They watch them all process everything until it finally clicks in their heads.

Janis tries to count how many times Damian shrieks “Oh my god!” in ten seconds, but she loses count after twenty.

“How is this happening?” He demands, wrapping both of them in a tight hug. “Are you adopting or is one of you pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant,” Cady laughs as he takes a step back, adjusting her dress so her bump is revealed. Damian squeals and hugs her again, and everyone else joins in to make it a big group hug.

Regina, as always, breaks away first and heads back after just a couple of minutes. Gretchen follows to make sure she’s okay, holding her girlfriend’s hand as Regina reads through the cards again. Suddenly, she clocks the second initial.

“Guys, wait,” she says, patting Gretchen’s shoulder excitedly a few times. “There’s two initials here. Are you having twins?”

“Yes,” Cady says. Everyone screams and rushes to hug her again. She peeks up at her wife around everyone and grins happily. “They’re identical, the embryo split.”

“Oh my god!” Damian sobs. “I’m gonna be an uncle! To twins! And you guys are gonna be moms! To twins!”

“Aww, Dame, don’t cry,” Cady chuckles. “Your nieces or nephews should be here in May.”

“Oh my god,” he says quietly again. “Shit, guys, happy fucking holidays.”

Everyone laughs at that and scatters slightly, finally letting Janis and Cady breathe. Damian excuses himself to the kitchen to recover. Janis follows as Cady lets everyone feel her bump and answers their questions.

“God, Jan, congratulations,” he sniffs, wiping his nose on a tissue.

“Thanks, Damdam,” Janis chuckles. “You seem more excited than us.”

“I am! I’m so excited, I’m gonna be an uncle,” he says happily.

“Oh, yeah, um. About that,” Janis says. “Caddy and I were hoping you’d be more than their uncle.”

“What do you mean?” He asks confusedly.

“We want you to be their godfather,” Janis says.

“Really?” Damian asks, his eyes brimming with tears again.

“Yeah, of course,” Janis says, handing him another tissue. “Stop crying, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs. “Of course I’ll be the godfather. God, I can’t wait to meet them. These are gonna be the cutest little dorky babies ever.”

“Hey!” Janis says as she comes to hug him tightly.

“Jan, we called ourselves the art freaks for ten years and Caddy is the biggest math nerd to ever live, you’re gonna be raising dorks in some form or another,” Damian says.

Janis purses her lips, realizing he’s absolutely correct. “I guess you’re right. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so excited,” he says happily.

“Good,” Janis says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’m gonna go find the mother of my children, I love you.”

“I love you too! All four of you!” He calls after her.

-

The excitement wears off just a touch by the time the countdown begins. Cady and Janis share a sweet kiss as it reaches zero and the fireworks go off around the city.

“Happy New Year, my love,” Cady whispers when they break apart. “It’s the year of babies.”

“The year of babies indeed,” Janis murmurs back.

—————-

They go shopping for baby things the next week. Technically, they’re supposed to be shopping for things they’ll need in their new house, since they’ve decided to move out of their tiny apartment and into a house that has enough room for them to raise two small humans. But, Cady passes by the baby clothes section on the way out and just can’t resist.

Janis follows and is instantly reeling at the sizes of everything. She nearly plows down a mannequin because she’s too busy staring at a little tiny bathing suit.

“Aww, Jayjay, look,” Cady says, weaseling her way around the racks to something she’s spotted. Janis leaves their cart where it is and runs after her. Cady heads to a rack with onesies that say ‘Thing One’ and ‘Thing Two’, patterned like the characters in the book. They have numbers that go all the way up to eight. Janis is suddenly very appreciative of the fact they’re only having twins.

“They’re cute,” Janis says. Cady grabs them in the newborn size. “Will they actually be this little?”

“Probably smaller, actually, we should be looking at preemie stuff too,” Cady says thoughtfully. Smaller? Janis tries to imagine something smaller than the onesies in her hand. It doesn’t quite compute.

“I have more rules,” she says suddenly, leading them back to the cart.

“Okay,” Cady chuckles. “What?”

“If they’re girls, we’re not putting them in those stupid bows that are the size of their faces,” Janis says.

“Agreed,” Cady says. She’s always found those tacky. “But can we do little ones?” She asks as she brushes a hand over a pack of more reasonably sized headbands.

“If you want, Butterfly,” Janis says, grabbing it and plopping it into their cart. “Have you thought any more about names, by the way?”

“Actually, yeah,” Cady says, resting a hand on her belly. “I want to name mine Leo. Boy or girl, I think it works for both.”

Janis grins happily. “I love it, that’s so cute. Leo Damian or Leo Juliette, it’s perfect.”

Cady comes over for a cuddle. “What about you, have you picked a girl name?”

“No,” Janis whines. “I can’t pick one.”

“You will. You’ll pick something perfect,” Cady comforts. “Let’s go home, I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, Peanut. Let’s go nap,” Janis chuckles.

—————

By Cady’s birthday in February, they’re officially in their new house farther upstate. Damian and Aaron helped with most things, since Cady couldn’t really do much. She packed most of their things and moved the lightest stuff, but she spent most of the move napping.

Damian also helped Janis do their nursery. He had begged to help, and Janis was all too happy for the extra hands. He put together all the white wood furniture Cady had picked while Janis painted the walls.

Cady had only gotten to pick their furniture and textiles, the rest is a birthday surprise Janis has been putting together. She painted the walls Cady’s favorite color, a pale yellow, and designed an accent wall for the one opposite the door to the room. She’d spent weeks doing paintings of different safari animals, and found a company who sized them up into big stickers. By the time everything’s pasted up, it looks like a scene straight out of Kenya.

Damian helps her push the cribs against that wall, with a nightstand in between and a lamp on top. The two-in-one dresser and changing table goes against the opposite wall, and Janis puts the bookshelf and the massive rocking chair in the corner next to it. The other corner has all the baskets full of soft toys and teethers they’ve acquired over the last few months.

Damian hangs the grey curtains patterned with little clouds from the curtain rod, while Janis unrolls a big matching rug. Cady had fallen in love with the little cloud pattern, so all the fabric in the room has it. The rug, sheets, changing table, lampshades, everything.

Janis had also come up with a cute way to make homemade mobiles. She and Cady had stitched little clouds and stuffed them, then hung them with fishing line from dowels that Janis had hot glued together. It’s a perfect touch.

She nearly breaks her neck hanging them over the cribs while Damian adds the soft grey baby blankets to the crib railings, and then the room is complete. Janis looks around as she and Damian catch their breaths, and comes to hug him for comfort.

“Damian, my babies are gonna be in those,” she mumbles anxiously, pointing to the cribs. “I’m not ready to be a mom.”

“Well, you’re not, yet, so that’s good,” Damian teases. “You’re gonna be a great mom, Janjan. You half raised Julie, and you’ve got the right instincts. You’ve taken great care of everything and everyone so far; I would bet all the money I’ve ever seen that you’re gonna be the greatest mom in the world. Well, Caddy is first, but you’re, like, a super duper close second.”

Janis whacks him on the arm affectionately. “Thanks, D. How do you always know what to say?”

“I still watch a lot of Drag Race, Rupaul is very wise,” Damian jokes. “And I just know you. Go get your wife, she should see this.”

Janis squeezes him one more time before leaving to go Cady-hunting. She finds her in their bedroom packing their hospital bag.

“Hey, baby,” she says quietly as she comes in. “Why are you packing the bag now?”

“Because we have no way of knowing when our babies are going to be here and I’d rather not have you do it in a panic while I’m in labor or something,” Cady shrugs. “I just wanted to get it out of the way.”

“Ah. That’s a very good idea,” Janis says. “Can you take a break for a second, though? I have another present for you.”

Cady nods eagerly and reaches for Janis to help her up. “Lemme go pee first.”

Janis grins affectionately as she does her cute little waddle towards the bathroom. Her belly is rapidly approaching the size it would be if she was full term with one baby, and their little ones are constantly pressing on her bladder. Cady’s already tired of it.

She covers Cady’s eyes when she comes back and leads her down the hallway towards the nursery. Janis steers them carefully around Daffodil, who’s trotting along beside them to see what they’re up to.

“Okay, ready?” She asks once they’re in the best place to view the whole room. Cady nods happily, so Janis takes her hands away.

Cady immediately starts crying, spinning around to look at everything. “Oh, Janis, this is perfect!” She heads to the far wall to look at the animals. “Did you paint these?”

“Yeah,” Janis says, coming behind her and lifting her tummy to hold the weight for her for a second. Cady gives a relieved sigh and leans back against her. “But they’re stickers, so once they get too old to want animals on their wall we won’t have to paint over the zebras.”

Cady brushes a hand over an elephant tenderly. “They’re so cute, you did such a good job.” She notices Damian in the chair nearby and reaches for him too. “Thank you guys, I love it.”

“You’re welcome, Cads,” Damian says, hugging her gently. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Cady chuckles, wiping the tears from under her eyes.

“I did one more thing, go look in the closet,” Janis murmurs, kissing Cady’s neck and sending her on her way. Cady coos at what she finds and is suddenly crying again.

Several teeny tiny denim jackets, hand painted by Janis with different designs. Teddy bears, little moons and stars, all sorts of things. “God, Jay, these are so cute. They can match you!”

“That was the idea,” Janis chuckles, instinctively going to comfort her wife. Cady puts the jacket she’s holding back on its hanger and hooks it back into the closet. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady sniffles. She tries to hug Janis, but her belly blocks her most of the way. She manages anyway. “Oh, they’re awake now.”

“Can I feel?” Damian asks shyly. The babies haven’t kicked at all any time he’s been around.

“Of course, here,” Cady says, taking his hand and resting it where she’s feeling the most. “That’s your uncle, babies. We’re all so excited to meet you.”

“Oh my god that’s so weird,” he says in awe as the babies kick against his hand. “Cool, but... whoa.”

“It is a little weird,” Cady giggles. “Little aliens. Man, they’re excited.”

“What are they gonna call you guys? Is Janis mother dearest?” Damian asks jokingly, yelping again as another round of little kicks starts.

Cady and Janis look at each other. “I forgot about that, we can’t both be Mom.”

“I forgot too,” Janis says. “I think you should be Mama.”

“That makes you Mommy,” Cady smiles at her. Janis’ eyes well up when she realizes she’ll have two little beings calling her that soon. Mommy.

“I like it,” she sniffs.

“Aww, lovey,” Cady coos. Damian has returned to his very comfortable seat and is genuinely reading through Goodnight Moon for fun by this point. “God, can you two give it a rest for two seconds? I’m trying to hug your mommy.”

Janis laughs at that, brushing a hand over her tummy and kissing her wife. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jay.”

—————-

They decide to do Cady’s maternity photos in late March. It’s getting to be Cady’s favorite time of year, it’s just starting to warm up and all the flowers are starting to bloom.

Janis comes home from work the day before to find Cady in tears on the couch. She rushes over, afraid something is wrong or she’s in pain. “Butterfly, what happened?”

“I’ve gained so much weight!” Cady wails, sitting up and crawling into Janis’ lap. Janis is confused, Cady has never been particularly insecure about her body, but the hormones have really been getting to her lately.

“Oh, baby,” Janis hushes. “That’s normal. Does your dress for tomorrow still fit?”

“Yeah,” Cady sobs. “But it’s so much, Janis.”

“Angel, it’s normal for you to have gained weight, I promise,” Janis says desperately. “A good eight of those pounds you’ve gained are just our babies, and they also need nutrients and fluids to grow and be healthy. And the rest of those pounds make up my beautiful, lovely, amazing, strong, adorable, kick-ass wife, who I love very much. I won’t hear any complaints about her body.”

Cady cuddles into her closer with a sniffle before she starts sobbing again. “I love you so much. You’re so good to me, I don’t deserve you!”

“Butterfly, shh, please, I hate when you cry,” Janis says, holding her wife as close as she possibly can. “I love you so, so much. I don’t deserve you. Come here.”

“I’m sorry, these hormones,” Cady sniffles. “Daffy lost her favorite ball under the couch yesterday and I cried for two hours.”

Janis chuckles and kisses her cheek. “I think that’s perfectly reasonable. Did she get it back?”

Daffodil comes trotting down the hallway with her favorite toy in her mouth, seeming to know she’s being discussed. Janis takes it from her and throws it back down the hallway, and she scrambles to run after it.

“Crazy dog,” Janis mumbles affectionately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Cady sniffles. Elvira comes hopping up on them then, bonking her soft head against their intertwined hands for pets. “Hi, Ellie.”

Elvira purrs happily as they scratch behind her ears, her eyes shutting contently. Once they stop, she opens them again and meows indignantly. She looks to see where their hands have gone, and notices Cady’s resting on her belly.

Ellie inches closer, sniffing at her tummy curiously. She brings a gentle paw up and bats at it a few times, so Cady takes her hands away so she can sniff more. Elvira changes her angle and bats gently at it again.

“Can you smell your siblings in there?” Cady giggles. Elvira suddenly looks up at her with wide eyes and a questioning meow, seeming to realize what’s happening. “Yeah, there’s babies in there! I’m surprised you didn’t notice earlier.”

Janis laughs at their kitty’s reaction. “I wonder if Daffy knows.”

“She doesn’t seem to, I’m not sure,” Cady hums. “Daffodil! Come here, puppies!”

Daffy comes trotting back down the hallway, still occupied with her ball. She approaches them on the couch and drops it on Cady’s lap, wagging her tail hopefully.

“Oh, you still want to play?” Cady chuckles. “Come here first, what’s in here?”

She taps carefully on her belly, getting Daffy’s attention. Thinking there’s a treat, the dog sniffs at her belly curiously. She seems suspicious when she realizes there’s no treat, but keeps sniffing. Her tail starts wagging harder when she realizes, and she licks Cady’s tummy excitedly.

“Yeah, there we go, you guys finally put it together,” Cady laughs. “Okay, here you go, go play.”

“Silly things,” Janis tuts affectionately as Ellie heads off to join Daffodil on her adventures.

“I always wonder what they get up to,” Cady says. “Anyway. Have you picked your girl name yet?”

“No,” Janis whines. “Help me, what names were you thinking about before you picked Leo?”

“Lydia,” Cady says. Janis pulls a face.

“That’s pretty, but I hooked up with a Lydia at a party my sophomore year of high school,” she explains.

“Really?” Cady laughs. “Okay, not that then. Um... Leah, but if we’re doing Leo that would be too close. What about Lucy?”

“Lucy is cute, but...”

“It doesn’t feel right, I thought the same thing,” Cady says. “How about Luna?”

Janis thinks about it. “I like Luna a lot, but it still just… I don’t know.”

“I understand, love. Laura and Lily are the only other ones I came up with,” Cady says.

Janis buries her face in her shoulder. “I’ll think about it, I’m running out of time.”

“It’s only March, love, you still have plenty of time,” Cady says. “Don’t stress about it, whatever you pick will be perfect.”

“I’ll think of something before your baby shower,” Janis says confidently. That gives her a little less than a month. “I should get started on dinner, what are you craving today, babe?”

“Noodles,” Cady says instantly. “And cuddles.”

“Noodles it is,” Janis chuckles. “I’ll cuddle you while we eat.”

“Okay,” Cady says happily. “Oh, can you add grapes to mine, please?”

Janis looks at her in confusion. “What?”

“Grapes.”

“No, I heard you,” Janis says. “Why?”

“I dunno, ask them,” Cady shrugs, pointing to her belly.

“Little weirdos,” Janis chuckles lovingly, leaning down to kiss either side of Cady’s tummy.

“I love you,” Cady says quietly.

Janis comes back up to kiss her before she goes. “I love you too, baby.”

————-

Cady wakes up the next day feeling much better. She’s not quite back to herself, but nowhere near as upset as she was yesterday. She checks the clock and finds that it’s only about ten, so she has a few hours before she even has to start getting ready. They’re not even meeting Regina until four.

Janis is still deep asleep, and so are the pets who are resting at their feet. Daffodil is supposed to be part of the shoot, so Janis tried to give her a bath the night before. It just about worked, but they were both totally exhausted by the end of it. Elvira is just always asleep.

Cady heads to the bathroom and also grabs a book from her shelf to read while she waits for her little family to wake up. Janis makes a sort of snuffling sound in her sleep and scoots closer so she’s pressed against Cady’s leg. Cady just strokes through her hair and keeps reading.

About half an hour later, Janis finally wakes up. “G’morning, Butterfly.”

“Good morning, Bluejay,” Cady chuckles back. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Janis yawns. “Your leg is comfy.”

“Thanks,” Cady giggles. “What should we have for breakfast?”

“Whatever you want, we have pretty much everything,” Janis responds. “Eggs, pancakes, fruit.”

“Something with fruit sounds nice,” Cady says. “I’ve been craving a lot of sweet stuff.”

“Don’t people say that your cravings say what you’re meant to be having?” Janis asks.

“Yeah, but everything is kind of contradictory,” Cady says. “I’ve heard that if you crave meat and stuff it’s supposed to be a boy, and sweet stuff means it’s a girl. But I’ve also heard the opposite.”

“Huh,” Janis says. “Okay, come on, I’m hungry.”

-

Several hours later, after both breakfast and lunch, it’s time for them to get ready. They’d decided on periwinkle as the color scheme for their photos. Cady has a soft white dress with periwinkle flowers, and Janis has a coverall jumpsuit the same shade. Daffodil looks very dapper in her matching bandana.

“So what do you think they are?” Cady asks as she brushes out Janis’ hair to style it. Janis had done Cady’s hair and makeup, and now it’s her turn to be pampered. Cady’s hair is just in her natural curls down her back, and she has a flower crown to match her dress. Cady applies a few products to bring back Janis’ natural wave and pins small chunks from the front to the back of her head.

“Think what are what?” Janis asks confusedly.

“The babies. Do you think they’re boys or girls? Biologically, anyway.” Cady clarifies.

“Oh,” Janis says. “I don’t know. I think they might be girls.”

“Really? I’ve been feeling like they’re boys lately,” Cady says. “They kick so much.”

“You’re probably right, then, they are inside you,” Janis chuckles. “We don’t have too much longer until we’ll find out.”

“True,” Cady says. “One more full month.”

“Do you think we’re ready?” Janis asks quietly.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cady answers. “I don’t think we could ever be ready. But I think we can do it anyway.”

Janis tips her head back once Cady finishes her hair, looking up at her face upside-down. “These babies are making you rather poetic.”

Cady laughs and bends down carefully for a kiss. “I’ve just been spending too much time around you. You read poetry for fun.”

“And you do calculus for fun,” Janis retorts. “God, Damian’s right, our kids are gonna be dorks.”

“And we’ll love them anyway,” Cady says. “Come on, we should go soon.”

————-

They meet Regina at the scheduled time in a massive field of tulips. For whatever reason, Gretchen has connections to a tulip farmer, who agreed to let them take their photos in his fields so long as they didn’t trample any.

Regina is taking practice shots of her dog, Nutmeg, when they arrive. Nutmeg is sitting very patiently and even smiling for the camera.

Daffodil gets very excited when she sees her best friend and auntie, and makes a beeline over to them. Nutmeg breaks away too, and they both head trotting back to Regina after a quick meeting.

“Hi, Daffy, how’s my favorite little retriever?” Regina asks, flopping the dog’s ears around.

“Hey, Gina,” Janis calls as they head up after her.

“Hi! Oh, look at you!” Regina says excitedly, coming to hug them and feel Cady’s tummy. “Okay, I was thinking we should get the shots with Daffodil first so she and Nutmeg can go play, if that works for you?”

“Yeah, we should probably get them while she’s still nearly clean,” Janis says. “Daffy, come here!”

Daffodil comes running over to them for her photos, but looks longingly at her friend the whole time. Luckily, she’s quickly released again to go play, having been on her best behavior the whole time and getting her part out of the way quickly. They got several adorable photos of her sniffing and licking Cady’s tummy.

Regina is an excellent photographer. She lets Cady and Janis just do what comes naturally to them and then moves herself to get a good shot, and makes small talk while she works. They almost forget they’re even having photos taken in the first place.

“Cute! Janis, can you go find the dogs? We should get some of Cady solo and then bring you back when golden hour hits,” Regina says, resting her heavy camera against her shoulder.

“Yep,” Janis says as she tugs her shoes back on. “Come find me if you need anything.”

She heads into the small forest nearby to hunt for their puppies, since they’d gone that way a while ago.

Cady is a little less natural at posing when she’s alone, so Regina guides her through some of the basic ones.

“Do this,” Regina says, demonstrating how Cady should hold her belly. “And then think about how cute your little muffins are going to be.”

Cady does what she’s told, the prompt getting a genuine smile out of her. Who will they look more like? What will their personalities be like? What will they sound like?

“Perfect!” Regina says, letting Cady come see a few snapshots. Cady grins happily when she sees the few she’s allowed to.

“These are great,” she says. “Have you three ever thought about kids?”

“We’ve talked about it,” Regina says quietly. “We all agreed that we’re not ready and probably never will be. We’re just excited to be aunties.”

“You guys can babysit these two anytime,” Cady chuckles. “But I understand. I’m not sure I’m ready either.”

“Cady Sarkisian-Heron, you were designed to be a mother,�� Regina insists. “You’ve been taking care of all of us since we were in high school. You’re gonna pop out two cute-ass babies and raise them into great humans.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that, I’m so emotional lately,” Cady sniffles.

Janis makes a reappearance then, emerging from the woods followed by two wet dogs shaking themselves off.

“So, it turns out there’s a river in there,” she pants once she reaches them. “They decided to go fishing.”

“Nutmeg! What are your other moms gonna say?” Regina tuts. “I have towels in my car, hang on.”

She passes the camera to Janis and heads towards where they parked. It’s a very expensive, fancy camera, and Janis holds it like she’s been casually handed the Ark of the Covenant. She hasn’t done much in the way of photography since her classes in college, but she decides she can take a few little snaps of her wife. For practice.

“Hey,” she calls to her wife. Cady turns to look at her over her shoulder. Click. “Guess what?”

Cady turns to look at her fully, tilting her head in confusion. “What?”

“I love you,” Janis says. Cady’s face splits into a wide smile. Click.

“I love you too, Jay,” Cady giggles. “Look at you go, little miss photography.” She comes to lean on her wife’s shoulder.

Regina comes back then with the towels, bending down to dry off the dogs. Cady and Janis kiss sweetly above her. “No being cute while I don’t have my camera, stop it immediately.”

The two of them break apart sheepishly, giggling as Nutmeg shakes the rest of the water off her once she’s been toweled dry. Regina dries Daffy as well, and then stands up and takes her camera back.

“Okay, just a few more of you two now that the sun is starting to go down, and then Gretch and K and I want to take you to dinner?” She says, stretching her spine out.

“Ooh, yay,” Cady says happily. She needs to sit, so Janis leads them to a bench she found while she was hunting for their dogs. It has several hills behind it that are absolutely covered in natural wildflowers, which Cady loves.

They get several with Cady and Janis leaning their heads together, grinning happily at the camera. Then Cady rests her head in Janis’ lap, and Regina gets a few candid shots of the two of them talking while Janis plays with her hair.

“I think we’re done here,” Regina says, looking through a few of the shots she’s gotten. “I’ll edit them a bit and get them to you in a couple weeks or so.”

“Thanks Reggie,” Janis says as they both hug her. She tenses slightly at the affections and huffs indignantly at the name, but does return the hug. “Do not call me that. But you’re so welcome.”

————-

Cady and Janis both spend a majority of the month of April in tears. Cady cries because she’s in a great deal of pain. Her body is shifting in ways it wasn’t really designed to, and she can’t take any painkillers that actually work because they might hurt the twins. Janis cries because she can’t stand seeing her wife in so much pain.

“Butterfly, can I do anything to help you?” Janis asks desperately as her wife lies weeping in her lap, where she’s been for most of the day.

“The heating pad? And rub my back?” Cady sniffles. “I just want to be held, mostly.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Janis says, tucking Cady in carefully with their favorite blankets and running off to the kitchen. Cady can hear the microwave whirring as she heats up the pad.

Janis comes back carrying their heating pad and a mug of Cady’s favorite tea, with the perfect amount of milk and sugar. She hands it to Cady as she sits up, then wraps the heating pad around her shoulders and pulls her close.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting so much, baby,” Janis says softly, rubbing her lower back gently.

“It’ll be worth it,” Cady sniffles. Janis thinks she might be feeling better, but her lower lip starts trembling and she bursts into sobs anew. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Oh, Peanut, it’s okay,” Janis comforts. Cady’s been nesting, stressed about making sure everything is clean and soft for their babies to come home to. Janis forgot to unload the dishwasher and Cady snapped a little. “I get it. There’s a lot happening to you right now, I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I’m still sorry. I didn’t mean it and I shouldn’t have done it,” Cady sniffles. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kitkat. I love you so much,” Janis says. “Baby, be honest with me, can you handle having your baby shower tomorrow? I can call D and have them move it to another day.”

“I’ll be okay,” Cady sniffs again. “We don’t know how much longer we have until the babies come, and I miss everyone. I’m excited.”

“I’m excited too, Sunshine. We get a whole day just to celebrate you,” Janis says, working her way up to massage her shoulders.

“And you,” Cady insists. “You’ve done so much for us the entire time I’ve been pregnant. I couldn’t have done this without you. I can’t wait to see you be a mommy.”

“I can wait a little longer,” Janis jokes. “I’m still terrified. But I’m so excited to meet them.”

“I am too. I love you so much, Jay.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

-

They spend the rest of the evening cuddling, and Janis eventually falls asleep halfway through a movie. Cady cuddles her as close as she can around her very large tummy and plays with her hair.

She almost jumps out of her skin when Janis suddenly sits bolt upright. “Layla.” Is the first thing out of her mouth.

“What?” Cady chuckles affectionately.

“Layla,” Janis repeats. “I wanna call mine Layla if they’re girls.”

“That’s beautiful, my love. Layla Reese,” Cady says. “I told you you’d pick something perfect.”

“Luca and Leo or Layla and Leo,” Janis says. She leans down to kiss each side of Cady’s belly. “That’s you two. You have your names now. Mama and I can’t wait to meet you.”

Cady smiles contently down at her. They’d decided earlier that baby A would be either Luca or Layla, and baby B would be Leo. “Leo’s up here,” she says, guiding Janis’ hand to where they were in their last ultrasound. “And Luca or Layla is over here.” Janis kisses each spot several times.

“I love you so much, little ones,” Janis whispers. “I can’t wait to finally hold you.” Luca or Layla suddenly kicks against her cheek. “Hey, don’t kick me!”

“They know your voice,” Cady giggles. “They only kick when you talk to them, whenever I try they won’t do anything.”

“You’re their mama, you’re gonna be their favorite parent for, like, a minimum of five years,” Janis says. Leo kicks in agreement. “See?”

“I love you, loser,” Cady giggles.

“I love you too, dork,” Janis retaliates.

————-

Janis is awoken the next morning by Damian entering their house in a flurry, with far too much energy for ten in the morning. She pads down the stairs in her pajamas to shut him up.

“Damian, shush, Caddy’s still asleep,” Janis says.

“Oh, oops,” Damian whispers. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. She’s having a rough go of it lately, she’s in a lot of pain, but she’s managing really well,” Janis responds as she’s wrapped in a hug.

“Poor thing. Those babies need to come out soon and give her a break,” Damian says, adjusting his ‘best gay uncle ever’ shirt.

Janis chuckles. “We need them to stay in a little longer, it’s still way too early.”

“When is she due again?” Damian asks as he picks his box of decorations back up.

“June, technically, but it’s dangerous if they get too big, so she’ll be induced sometime in May if they don’t come on their own by then,” Janis says.

“Wow, only a month? Shit,” Damian says. “I’m so ready to cuddle these babies.”

“I am too,” Janis chuckles. “I’m terrified, but I just want to meet them. Where’s your boy toy, by the way?”

“He’s coming later, and Reggie said she’d be here in about ten minutes,” Damian says. “We wanted to make sure we have enough time to set up.”

“Nice,” Janis says. “Can I do anything?”

“Absolutely not, this is your day,” Damian says, batting her hands away from his precious box of treasures. “Go get your wife.”

Janis heads back to her bedroom obediently to wake up her wife. Cady looks so much more peaceful when she’s asleep, Janis really doesn’t want to disturb her. She lets her stay asleep for a while longer before she decides to kiss her awake.

“Wake up, Butterfly. It’s your day,” Janis purrs softly.

Cady yawns and rubs at her eyes like a cat. “Jayjay? Timessit?”

“About ten thirty,” Janis responds, looking at the clock. Apparently she’d let her wife sleep in a little longer than she’d thought. Even asleep, Cady is easy to lose track of time with.

“Ten thirty? Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, it’s so late!” Cady says with much more energy, trying to roll herself out of bed.

“Because there’s two humans growing inside you and you need to rest,” Janis responds, grabbing her hands to help her up. “Everything’s fine. Damian’s downstairs getting everything ready and Reggie will be here to help him in a few minutes. There’s nothing you need to worry about today.”

“Okay,” Cady breathes, calming herself down. “Do we have snuggle time?”

“I made sure of it,” Janis says. “But you should eat first. Babies need calories.”

“Okay,” Cady says, sounding much less frazzled. She follows her wife down to the kitchen, but stops to greet Damian in the living room. “Hi, Dame.”

Damian turns around from where he’s hanging a banner up. “Hey, Cads! How are you?”

“Exhausted,” Cady responds with a yawn. “But this looks great!”

“Thanks,” Damian says. “Go get your wife, I got this.”

Janis makes them some quick eggs and toast with fruit on the side. Cady gets a lot of extra fruit. Regina shows up in the middle of their breakfast, also having several boxes of activities and decorations.

“Hey, Gina,” Cady greets from her spot on the couch.

“Hey, Cady,” Regina responds, trying to catch her breath as she rests down a heavy box. “Christ.”

“You guys got a lot of stuff,” Janis comments around a mouthful of egg. “We didn’t invite that many people.”

“Damian went absolutely ape shit at Party City last week,” Regina says. “Wants to give you guys a rager before you have too many babies to party anymore.”

“Hell yeah,” Damian cheers as he comes down from his stepladder to check that his banner is even.

“Oh, Christ,” Janis groans. She’d let the two of them run wild, she just hopes they didn’t blow too much of her money.

“Sounds fun,” Cady cheers. “Let’s go get dressed.”

Janis kisses her cheek and takes their empty plates into the kitchen before following her wife back upstairs. The color scheme for the party overall is yellow and green, since Janis and Cady didn’t want to buy too much into the whole blue and pink thing. However, the invitations did say to wear pink or blue depending on what you think the babies are, which they both think is cute.

Cady wears the same dress she wore for her maternity photos, since it’s soft and light, and the flowers are close enough to blue. Janis still doesn’t have much in the way of pink clothing, but she borrowed a pink button down from Damian to go over her black ensemble.

Once their hair and teeth are brushed and some makeup is applied, they head downstairs. Regina and Damian made a lot of progress while they were getting ready. Streamers are hanging from the walls, the tables are decorated, and Regina is even stuffing a piñata.

“Reggie?” Janis asks. “Why the fresh hell did you buy a baby shaped piñata?”

“It was the only baby-related one they had!” Regina insists. “I know it’s bad.”

Cady laughs so hard at the idea of whacking a cardboard baby with sticks that she nearly falls over, Janis has to grab her.

“That’s great, I love it,” Cady giggles, wiping tears of laughter from under her eyes. “This all looks so good!”

Damian comes in from their backyard, where he’s been decorating and setting up the outdoor activities. “Why, thank you!”

They finish a few minutes later and take the two of them on a short tour before the guests come. Cady starts giggling at the games they’ve come up with. They’ve changed ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ to something along the lines of ‘get the spoon in the baby’s mouth’, with velcro spoons to attach to a large cartoon baby.

Janis gets a chuckle out of a water balloon toss, called ‘don’t break the water’. There’s also a few calmer things, like decorating play-doh babies or leaving a message on a poster with one of the maternity photos in the center.

“Also, if you’re okay with it, I thought it would be fun to try some old wives’ tales since you’re not doing a gender reveal,” Regina says once they’ve seen everything. “Just the normal ones like the ring test and stuff, not the ones with, like, your pee or anything.”

Cady laughs. “Yeah, that sounds fun. This is amazing, thank you guys.”

-

Janis and Cady greet all their guests, which is mostly just their old friends from high school and college who could make it to New York, and any family who could make the trip.

Cady is surprised when her cousin Emma comes in, Janis decided to surprise her. Emma brought her wife Alyssa, and their son James.

“Oh my god, hi!” Cady says happily, hugging both of them as tight as she can. They still live in Indiana and haven’t been able to visit for a few years. “Hi James!”

James is a little over a year old, and just waves as he cuddles shyly into Alyssa’s shoulder. Janis looks at him for a moment. Soon she’ll have her own babies to cuddle like that.

It turns out Cady had a similar surprise, since Janis’ cousin Veronica enters soon after, flanked by all three of her girlfriends. Janis remembers that one is technically her wife, but she can’t remember which Heather married who.

“Vera!” She calls happily, running to hug her cousin. “You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“I told Cady,” Veronica says. “And obviously I’m coming, my favorite cousin is having a baby!”

“Two, actually,” Janis says.

“Shit, dude,” Veronica responds. “I forgot about that. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Janis chuckles. Veronica hugs her back for a second and then leads her girlfriends to check out the party. “This is bad.”

“What’s bad?” Cady asks worriedly.

“I can’t tell the Heathers apart,” Janis says anxiously, chewing a thumbnail. “I memorized the colors they wear, but now two are in pink and the other is in blue.”

“Oh,” Cady chuckles. “Well, you’re in luck, I memorized the hair in case of something like this. Chandler is the one Veronica married, she’s got red hair, and she’s the other one in blue. McNamara is blonde and she’s one of the ones in pink, and then Duke has dark hair and she’s the other pink one.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Butterfly,” Janis chuckles. “I think that’s everyone.”

Cady closes the door and pokes out a hand, which Janis takes with a squeeze and a kiss to her knuckles. They head into the party hand in hand.

—————

Several hours later, the party is over and Cady is sound asleep against her wife, surrounded by all sorts of adorable gifts. Janis wishes she had the strength to carry her up to bed, but carrying three people is too much even for her.

Regina and Damian are both spending the night in the guest rooms, so Cady and Janis don’t have to worry about taking down any of the decorations. Janis hugs both goodnight and then wakes her wife, leading her up the stairs to bed.

They had a good day.

—————-

The next day is very bad.

Cady wakes Janis up around nine in tears. “Baby, what’s the matter?” Janis asks in concern.

“Something’s not right, Jay,” Cady sobs. “I can tell. They haven’t kicked since last night. They-they always kick in the mornings, something’s wrong.”

“Hey, I’m sure everything’s fine,” Janis soothes, trying to hide her own panic. “I’ll call the doctor and see if we can get you in for a scan.”

“Okay,” Cady sniffles.

-

The doctor tells them to come in right away for an emergency ultrasound, which doesn’t make them feel any better. Cady is desperately holding back tears and clinging to Janis’ hand like a lifeline.

The doctor’s brow quickly furrows as the babies come into view, and Janis almost collapses in worry. Something isactually wrong.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” the doctor says in that tone of voice. “You’ve developed twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome, from what I can see here it seems to be about a stage three.”

“How-how bad is that? What does that mean?” Janis asks shakily, trying to comfort her wife and herself at the same time.

“Before I explain, I don’t want you to panic too much. There are steps we can take, you have a good chance of having two healthy babies,” the doctor prefaces. That’s never good.

“But?” Janis chokes.

“But, stage three means that one or both of your babies’ hearts are affected,” the doctor says apologetically. She flips the monitor at an angle so they can all see. It’s obvious just looking that something isn’t right. “Here. TTTS just means that the twins aren’t sharing blood vessels evenly. Baby A has too much blood and fluids, things like that, going to them, and B isn’t getting enough.”

“But are they okay?” Cady cries desperately. “Are my babies alive?”

“Yes,” the doctor responds calmingly. Cady gives a sob of hope and clings somehow tighter to Janis. “But I am worried. Baby B’s heart is very weak. If we don’t take action soon you run the risk of losing them both. I’m going to send you for a corrective procedure right away.”

“Procedure? Like… surgery?” Janis asks, her face blanching. How did everything turn around like this?

“Nothing terribly invasive. Just a laser to sever some of the shared vessels, she won’t even have to be opened up,” the doctor says, taking a few pictures and ending the scan. “It’s not without its risks, but it really is your best bet here.”

“What are the risks?” Janis demands.

“Jay,” Cady says gently. Janis looks at her and takes a deep breath.

“Sorry.” Janis apologizes.

“It’s perfectly understandable. Giving news like this is the worst part of my job, I get all sorts of reactions,” the doctor says calmly. “To your wife, there is almost no risk. However, there is a chance that it will be too traumatic for the babies and you’ll lose them both.”

“No,” Cady sobs desperately. “They have to- I need them to be okay.”

“The chances of that are very low,” the doctor comforts. “With the surgery, your chances of both being born healthy is about seventy-five percent. If we do nothing, their chances of survival drop to about ten percent.”

Cady dissolves into broken sobs behind Janis, who is hollowly trying to process all the information she’s been bombarded with over the last few minutes.

“I don’t care about the risks to me, just save them,” Cady weeps. Janis pulls her up and cradles her so tightly, letting her own tears drip onto Cady’s hair as her wife cries into her shoulder. The doctor leaves with a quiet apology to send off the referral, leaving them alone to process. “Janis, I-I-I can’t lose them. They have to be okay, I can’t-I need them to be okay.”

“They will be,” Janis says with false confidence. “We-we’ll get you the surgery, everything’s gonna be fine.”

They both know there’s always a chance something will go wrong, but for now they need to believe that everything will be okay.

—————

The next day, Cady is prepped and readied for the surgery. Janis can only be there in the beginning, as she’s put under anesthesia. Cady is crying and clinging to her desperately. Janis knows she can’t do anything. She’s never felt more tortured.

“I love you so much, it’s gonna be okay,” she murmurs, kissing Cady’s forehead as she’s wheeled away.  She’s absolutely terrified herself. Janis spent the night before frantically researching TTTS and was horrified to discover they were only two stages away from their worst nightmare. The fifth and final stage is the death of one or both babies.

Janis heads back to the waiting room, past where all their friends and family are waiting for news, and out the door into the parking lot. Everyone looks at each other in concern, but Damian is the one to get up and follow her.

He doesn’t say anything, just follows after her while still maintaining a bit of distance. Eventually she reaches a sort of garden area and turns around to him with tears streaming down her face.

Damian reaches for her, but Janis just starts pacing, letting out choked sobs every time she pivots. Damian finds a bench and lets her get it out.

“It’s not supposed to be like this!” Janis screams eventually, startling some exhausted looking medical student walking by, along with a few birds. “Everything was supposed to be okay this time! Why-why is it not okay?”

She hunches over with the force of her cries, and Damian rushes to wrap her in a hug. Janis clings to him desperately and sobs into his shoulder.

“It’s not-it’s not fair,” she weeps quietly. “It’s not fair.”

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” Damian says gently. “You’ve both been through too much already, this isn’t fair. But it’s gonna be okay. One way or another. We’re all here for you.”

Janis doesn’t respond, she just bursts into another round of sobs. She continues weeping desperately until she tires herself out after a while, so Damian hands over some tissues.

“You ready to go back in?” He asks quietly as she blows her nose. She nods hollowly.

“I should. I need to be there for news,” she whispers.

“If you’re not ready that’s okay,” Damian says. “Someone would text us if they heard anything, and we have time before she wakes up. We can wait here if you need more time.”

“No, I-I need to be there for her,” Janis mumbles. “I’m fine.”

They both know damn well that nothing is fine here, but Damian nods and leads her back to the waiting room.

-

After what feels like an eternity, the surgeon comes out with an intern that Janis doesn’t recognize. The intern calls for the ‘father’ of the Sarkisian-Heron babies, and Janis dashes over.

“Is she okay? Did they make it? Where is she?” She asks desperately.

“Father only,” the intern snaps.

“She’s my wife! My wife just had surgery because our babies might be dying, I don’t have time to deal with your petty, homophobic bitch ass. Where the hell is my wife?” Janis calls.

The surgeon steps up with a weak grin then, gesturing for Janis to follow her. “Everything went exactly as planned, there were no complications. Your wife and children are completely fine.”

Janis gives a heavy, shaky sigh of relief, feeling like the drama of the last day or so is escaping her chest. She’s led back to where Cady is resting, going to sit by her wife’s sleeping form and taking her hand gently.

“She should wake shortly,” the surgeon says quietly. “And my apologies for Sarah’s behavior. I would also like to thank you, I’ve been waiting for someone to call her out so I can report her ass to HR.”

Janis gives a weak grin, the closest to a smile she’s come in more than twenty-four hours. She looks back down to her wife and kisses her knuckles gently. “Happily. Thank you, for-for saving them. And her.”

“Just doing my job,” the surgeon replies. “We’ll be back to check on everything in a few minutes.”

Janis nods and the doctor leaves. Cady stirs a few moments later, her eyelids fluttering before she finally opens them with a good bit of effort.

“Are they okay?” She whispers, squeezing Janis’ hand lightly.

Janis nods and brushes tears from her own face. “Yeah, baby, they’re okay. The doctor said everything went perfectly, there were no complications. Our babies are both fine.”

“Thank goodness,” Cady says with tears brimming in her eyes. “I couldn’t handle losing either of them now.”

“I couldn’t either, Peanut,” Janis says quietly. “But they’re okay, we don’t even have to think about that now.”

“I love you,” Cady whispers.

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

——————

Cady is officially cleared to go home six days later, and is to be on strict bed rest until the babies are born. She’s taken an emergency medical leave from work which will stretch into her maternity leave.

But, in typical Cady fashion, she didn’t want to leave her work, even temporarily, without a goodbye. She wrote notes during her very long stay in the hospital, to all of her students as well as the substitute professor who would be taking over for her in her absence. Janis and Damian delivered them and cleaned her office out for her while Cady relaxed at home.

Janis, on the other hand, still has to go to work until her ‘paternity’ leave kicks in.

“Jayjay, it’s gonna be okay,” Cady comforts a nearby panicking Janis. “Everything is good now, I’m gonna be fine. And Damian offered to come keep me company, I’m not going to be alone.”

“But what if you go into labor and I’m not there? Or something else happens?” Janis asks worriedly.

“Jellybean, I’m not even having braxton-hicks contractions yet, these babies aren’t coming for a while,” Cady chuckles. “But you won’t be far, I’ll call you right away if something happens.”

“Okay,” Janis mutters, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Go teach those kids,” Cady replies, shooing her out the door from bed after a quick kiss.

Cady has a lovely day watching musicals with Damian and cuddling their pets. Janis texts periodically to make sure everything is okay.

And it is.

-

They keep this system all throughout May. Their families have long since left back to Illinois, but at least one of their friends spends the day at their house with Cady so she doesn’t get lonely, and to keep her safe if anything happens.

Until, in a beautiful fit of irony, Cady goes into labor on Mother’s day.

She and Janis had a lazy Sunday, celebrating their last Mother’s day with just the two of them with a long snuggle session and waffles for dinner.

Cady started feeling off at around six in the evening, but played it off as being uncomfortable due to the fact that she’s a small, heavily pregnant woman. Janis pampers her with lots of loving kisses and nice back rubs. Cady tries to focus on them instead of the bursts of pain popping up periodically.

She’s concerned when they don’t stop. Janis heads to bed around eleven, but Cady stays behind an extra few minutes to grab a snack. She’s Googled the difference between phantom and real contractions, and learned that phantom ones tend to go away after eating something.

So, Cady has some veggies and lets Daffodil out for a late-night frolic through the backyard. She’s finished her carrots by the time the puppy comes back to paw at the door. The contractions don’t seem to have stopped. Uh oh.

Daffodil leads her up the stairs to bed, so Cady follows and lies down next to her wife. Maybe sleep will help. Elvira is already there, and nuzzles in between both of them while Daffy takes her usual place on the ground beside them.

-

Cady is woken up no more than a half-hour later by a much more severe pain. On instinct, she reaches for Janis’ hand to squeeze.

“Ow,” Janis groans tiredly. “Whassamatter?”

“I’m in labor,” Cady says quietly, the realization finally hitting. Janis nearly clonks their heads together as she sits bolt upright.

“Are you serious?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.

“Yeah,” Cady says, trying to hold back anxious tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Janis asks in concern, stroking a hand over Cady’s cheek.

“No,” Cady whimpers. “Well, yeah. But… I’m scared, Jay.”

“Of what? Everything’s gonna be fine, we’ll take care of you,” Janis says gently.

“They’re not ready, Janis,” Cady sobs. “I’m only thirty-four weeks, it’s too early. They’re gonna be too small, they’re not… they’re not gonna be healthy.”

“Oh, Peanut,” Janis frowns. “They’re gonna be fine, I promise. They might be a little small, yeah, and they might need some stuff to help them out for a while. But it’ll be better for them to be out, they’ll be easier to monitor and help, and it’ll be easier to make sure all of you are healthy.”

“But what if they don’t look like you?” Cady wails suddenly.

“Then they’ll look like you, and they’ll be perfect,” Janis comforts. “Shh, angel, please. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Cady sniffles and leans into her shoulder. She winces and scrambles for Janis’ hand again when another contraction hits.

“How long have you been having contractions, baby?” Janis asks, wincing but not complaining at the series of pops her knuckles give.

Cady looks at the clock, it’s just a few minutes past midnight. “Six hours,” she says sheepishly.

“You what? Butterfly,” Janis demands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know at first, they weren’t that bad,” Cady replies as Janis goes to put clothes on. It’s just leggings and a sweatshirt, but is slightly more presentable than her pajamas.

“Okay, tell me when your next one starts,” Janis says, holding her hand gently and bringing up a timer on her phone. Cady does, and they time the next few. They’re long and getting closer together. “I think it’s baby day, Cads, we should go to the hospital.”

“Okay,” Cady sniffs again. “God, I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore.”

Janis laughs as she hands Cady some clothes to change into and grabs their bag. “I don’t blame you, Peanut. You’re almost in the clear.”

Cady changes clothes carefully and takes Janis’ hand to be pulled up. “Baby time.”

“I can’t wait,” Janis says, kissing her sweetly before they head to the car.

Cady texts their families on the way so they can plan out their travels, and then texts her friends to let them know as well.

spacecadet: Hey, turns out it’s labor day! We’ll keep you guys updated :D

damecupboard: AAAAAH NO WAY

ilikemouses: but it’s mother’s day???

georgewashington: She means the babies are coming, honey.

ilikemouses: oh

ilikemouses: oh!! yay! 📷📷📷📷📷📷

fetchen: yay!! we’ll go get daffy in the morning!!

a-aron: and dame and i will get ellie. good luck guys!!

“Okay, everyone knows. Our parents found a flight for tomorrow morning, somehow, and Julie’s already in town for work,” Cady says.

“Oh, is she? She didn’t tell me,” Janis says, turning into the hospital parking lot. “God, she’s gonna lose her shit when she meets them.”

“Just make sure she’s sitting before you let her hold them,” Cady chuckles affectionately.

“That’s a good plan,” Janis says. “Let’s go get you some drugs.”

“Yay,” Cady says weakly, following her to the doors.

-

Since they’re not an ambulance and it’s after hours, the doors are locked. Janis pushes a buzzer she finds, and jumps a little when a voice buzzes out from the speakers, asking what they need.

“Um… we’d like to come have our babies, please,” Janis says, not knowing how else to respond. Cady bursts out laughing behind her as the doors click and then swing open.

“You’re so cute, oh my god,” she giggles. “Oh, I shouldn’t laugh, ow.”

A small team lead them to where they need to be and help get Cady hooked up to all the monitors and finally pumped full of painkillers. She pulls a face when she has to don a hospital gown, and it only deepens when she finds out she can’t take it off until the babies are born to keep everything sanitary.

She and Janis are left alone once everything is sorted and instructed to try and get some sleep. Cady settles in and looks over to the monitors, watching her babies’ heartbeats pinging steadily.

Janis lies on her uncomfortable cot in the corner, and they both try to sleep.

-

By three in the morning, it’s clear sleep is not coming easily for either of them.

“Jayjay? Are you awake?” Cady pipes up.

“Yeah,” Janis yawns. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t sleep,” Cady grumbles. “Will you stay with me?”

Janis rolls out of her spot and comes over to her. She knows she’s really not supposed to, but neither of them are used to trying to sleep apart. She shifts all the wires and tubes carefully and lies on her side, while Cady inches herself over to the other side of her bed.

“They’ll probably be here in the morning,” Cady whispers, resting a hand on her belly for what could very well be the last time.

Janis nods against her shoulder and links their fingers together on top of her wife’s stomach. “I can’t wait to meet them. And hold them.”

Cady leans her head against her wife’s. “And I can’t wait to see you hold them. I love you.”

“I love you so much,” Janis responds. “You’re doing such a good job. I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Thanks,” Cady chuckles. “I’m so lucky to have you. Goodnight, Jay.”

“Goodnight, Butterfly.”

————-

They manage to sleep until about nine the next morning, when Cady wakes up with a pained gasp.

“What is it?” Janis asks frantically. The monitor shows that the babies’ vitals are still fine, but the one that tracks Cady’s contractions has suddenly gotten a massive spike. “Oh. Breathe, baby, you can do it. I’m here, you got this.”

“Shuck,” Cady breathes when it comes to a blessed end. “They’re gonna be here soon. Like, really soon. Ow.”

Sure enough, the doctor comes in to check Cady out, having been alerted by the large spike. A nurse gives her another smaller round of pain medication in the meantime. “I’d say we have about an hour,” the doctor says.

“Only one?” Janis squeaks in fright. “I’m not ready.”

“Oh, you’re not ready?” Cady teases. “Come here.”

Janis comes to lean into her wife, ironically needing comfort herself now. “What if they don’t like me?”

Cady laughs. “Janis, you’re their mommy. They’re gonna love you. They already do, they know your voice. They’ll learn your touch and your smell and what you look like. They’re gonna love you.”

“I should be comforting you,” Janis whines.

“It’s okay, my love. I get it,” Cady says softly. “But yeah, I could use you right now.”

Janis takes a deep breath and calms herself. She’s had seven months to prepare. She gets to meet her kids today. Cady needs her.

“Okay,” she breathes, her voice still a couple octaves higher than normal. “I’m okay, we got this.”

“Yes, we do,” Cady chuckles. “Panic later, I need you.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Janis whispers to herself, coming to give Cady hands to squeeze and lots of moral support.

Cady’s water breaks after another fifteen minutes, and it’s officially go time.

————-

At exactly ten in the morning on May 14, 2029, their first baby enters the world. The second twin follows three minutes later, and Cady collapses back against the bed with a final pained cry.

“Are they okay?” She asks weakly as two loud cries split the air. Janis brushes a hand over her cheek and leans down to kiss her forehead.

“They’re perfect, baby, you did it. Look,” she sobs happily. Cady tips her head up to see the doctors holding two tiny, squirming babies. “Those are our daughters.”

“Girls?” Cady whispers with a sob of her own. She reaches out for them and brushes a gentle hand over each small head.

“Mmhmm. Two beautiful baby girls,” Janis replies happily. She gets to cut the cords, and her hands are shaking so hard she can barely manage it. Cady reaches out again, wanting to hold her babies, but they’re whisked away before she can make contact.

“No,” she cries desperately, trying to sit up to get them back.

“Baby, hey, it’s okay,” Janis hushes gently, resting her back down. “They just need to be checked out and then you’ll get them back, I promise. They’re right over there.”

“Go get them,” Cady pleads as the doctors get to work patching her up. “Please, Jay, go make sure they’re okay. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Janis says, kissing her forehead one last time before she heads to see her children. The older one, Layla, is being weighed and measured while Leo is cleaned up. Janis looks on in wonder as her babies cry. She can’t totally see their features, but they clearly got her dark hair, and a lot of it.

Leo’s lungs are slightly weak when they evaluate her, so she’s quickly fitted for breathing tubes. They both get hooked up to monitors to make sure they’re absolutely safe, then are put into their first diapers and tiny little hats, and are finally tucked back into Cady’s hospital gown for skin-to-skin contact.

“Oh, hi,” Cady breathes happily when she has her babies back. She kisses each of their foreheads gently. “I’m your mama. Welcome to the world, little ones.”

Janis smiles through her tears and leans down to kiss Cady’s temple. The twins quiet once they’re back with Cady and can hear her heartbeat again.

“God, Jay, they’re so tiny,” Cady whispers.

“They’re perfect, baby,” Janis replies. “You did such a good job.”

Cady doesn’t say anything, just leans her head against Janis’ and looks down at the babies resting on her chest. She can’t really tell whose features they have from this angle, but she smiles when she sees the tufts of dark hair peeking out from under the soft beanies.

Suddenly, she feels tears soak into her shoulder again and hears Janis sniffle quietly.

“What’s the matter?” Cady asks quietly, concerned for her wife.

“I love them so much,” Janis sobs quietly. “They’re here now, and I can… touch them, and hold them, and-and see them. They’re so beautiful.”

“Aww, Jay,” Cady coos. “You girls haven’t even been here for fifteen minutes and you’re already making Mommy cry.”

Janis gives a watery chuckle and reaches to brush a tender finger over each baby’s soft cheek. “Their skin is so soft.”

“They’re… fresh babies,” Cady surmises as an explanation. Janis laughs again. “Don’t laugh at me, I still have baby brain.”

“Sorry,” Janis chuckles. “I love you so much. I’m so proud of you.”

Cady turns her head for a kiss and smiles happily as Janis presses their foreheads together afterwards. “I love you, Jay. I’m so lucky I get to have these little squishies with you.”

Janis tries to hold back more tears and kisses her wife again. They continue sharing ‘I love you’s and cooing over their daughters as Janis tenderly cleans the sweat from Cady’s face and brushes out her hair, then re-ties her ponytail and helps get her out of her hellacious hospital gown and into the comfy pajamas she’d packed.

“Much better,” Cady sighs happily when she’s back in familiar fabric and not covered in sweat. “We should let everyone know they’re here, where’s your phone?”

Janis grabs it from its forgotten place on her bed and comes to take a picture of her wife and daughters. Cady smiles happily and holds the babies up slightly so they’re visible.

Janis makes sure nothing important can be seen and sends it along to their families, and then a different message to their friends.

gaylien: Sent a picture: y’all have some mcfucking NIECES

reginald: Janis, really? Your wife just gave birth and that’s how you let us know? Congratulations, though, guys. They’re adorable.

gaylien: nobody here has gotten any decent sleep in a solid 24 hours can you blame me

damecupboard: Oh my god they’re so precious!!! Good job Caddy!

fetchen: aaaaahhhhhh yay!!!!!!! congratulations!!!

ilikemouses: yay babies!!! congrats guys! 📷📷

a-aron: congratulations! they’re so cute!!

damecupboard: Jan what are their names

reginald: Oh, yeah, we want deets!

gaylien: layla is the bigger one on caddy’s left and leo is the little one with the breathing tubes

gaylien: i’ll give you guys more pics and info later, i’m gonna go back to my family

damecupboard: Wow Janis used a comma

Janis laughs and comes back to Cady’s side to show her the text thread. Cady smiles at everyone’s reactions and laughs when she reads the last message.

“You girls already have so many people who love you,” she says softly, carefully adjusting Leo’s nose tubes.

“So many,” Janis agrees quietly, still in awe at the beings they’ve brought into the world.

“Do you wanna hold them now? It’s been long enough,” Cady asks. Janis nods and goes to grab the soft baby blankets on a counter nearby to swaddle them with. Cady hands Layla over first, and Janis wraps her up expertly. She practiced on Elvira, so she’s a total pro by now. Cady takes her little burrito back and hands over Leo for her turn.

Janis hands her back once she’s been carefully swaddled, still a little anxious about holding them. Cady cradles both in her left arm and looks down at their faces. Janis leans in next to her and looks as well, trying to puzzle out their features.

“They look just like you,” Cady says happily. “Your hair, your face shape, your lips.”

“But your nose,” Janis replies as Cady runs a tender finger down the bridge of Leo’s. “And your ears.”

Cady is about to repeat the brushing motion on Layla’s tiny nose when the baby suddenly gives an adorable sneeze and both sets of eyes fly open in surprise.

“Oh my goodness, bless you,” Cady giggles. “Oh, Jay, look.”

Janis does, looking down to see two pairs of wide crystal blue eyes blinking up at them curiously. She grins excitedly and gives an involuntary squeal.

“Your eyes,” she says happily. Cady leans up for a kiss before gesturing for Janis to hold her arms out. Janis does, and Cady rests Layla carefully in her right and Leo in her left. Janis feels tears start pouring down her face again as she holds her babies for the first time. “Hi, sweethearts. I’m your mommy. God, look at you. I love you so much.”

Layla yawns suddenly, showing off her tiny pink tongue. Janis giggles and carefully brings her up for a forehead kiss.

“Am I that boring already?” She asks as the baby drifts off in her hold. “Looks like it.”

“That one’s still looking at you,” Cady chuckles, pointing to Leo. Sure enough, when Janis looks, her smaller daughter is still awake and looking around the room curiously. Janis brings her up for a kiss too.

“My little bumblebee,” Janis says happily.

“Bumblebee?” Cady chuckles affectionately.

“She was baby B. So now she’s baby bee. Baby bumblebee,” Janis explains. Cady grins widely and gives a coo when she hears it.

“You’re so cute,” she says. “What about Layla?”

Janis looks back to her other daughter to see what name suits her. “Ladybug.”

“Perfect,” Cady murmurs happily, watching her little family. Janis notices her stifle a yawn and watches her eyes start fluttering slowly.

“You should rest, Butterfly,” Janis says quietly. “You’ve already done a lot today.”

“I don’t wanna miss anything,” Cady says. “You’re so good with them already.”

“They’ll still be here when you wake up,” Janis replies. “We get plenty of time with them, now.”

Cady nods with a smile and shuts her eyes, drifting off quickly after her morning of hard work. Janis is left with the babies in her arms. Carefully, she stands up and hooks her fingers around all the monitors and devices the twins are hooked up to, and wheels everything over to the chair in the corner.

Layla wakes again at all the commotion, so by the time Janis is settled she has both twins awake and blinking heavily at her. She shifts Leo over so they’re both in the same arm again to see both at the same time.

“Hello, sweet girls,” she murmurs softly so she doesn’t wake Cady up. “I love you so much. You’re so incredible already. I’m so excited to see who you turn out to be.”

She takes the moment of them being awake and relatively calm to see if there’s any differences in their features. Janis can tell they’re almost perfectly identical, but there do seem to be a few key things.

For one, to Janis’ delight, they got Cady’s freckles. Just a few, speckled over their cheeks and noses. And, their freckles are in different places. Leo has one just on the tip of her nose, and Layla has one almost perfectly beneath her left pupil.

Leo also seems to have longer hair, and Janis grins when she spies the slightest hint of a curl to it. It’s too early to tell, yet, but she hopes they have curly hair like Cady’s.

And then there’s the eyes. Janis still smiles involuntarily whenever she sees them. They’re almost exactly the shade of Cady’s eyes, a perfect reflection of their mother’s. Layla’s are a tiny bit wider and closer together than Leo’s, but Janis can tell that’s not going to be particularly noticeable to anyone who isn’t staring intently at their faces the way she is.

Layla suddenly starts fussing slightly, trying to move in her swaddle and giving a quiet cry.

“What’s the matter, Ladybug? Oh, shh, you’re okay,” Janis says quietly, bouncing both babies slightly. Leo seems fine and content to be along for the ride. “I know, it’s different out here, huh? We all have a lot to get used to.”

Layla appears to realize that this is one of the voices she’s been hearing all this time and goes quiet after a few minutes.

“There we go,” Janis says contently when she stops fussing. “Maybe I can do this after all.”

She brushes down each of their noses gently the way Cady did, and watches their eyes gradually flutter shut as she continues. Eventually, she has two sleeping babies in her arms, and stares at them contently as they rest.

-

Without totally realizing it, Janis winds up cradling her daughters for four and a half hours straight. Every once in a while one baby wakes up and fusses at her, but she hushes and rocks and cuddles them until they drift off again.

Until they both kick off at once. Janis rocks and bounces them both, but they won’t go quiet again.

Trying not to wake Cady unless she absolutely has to, Janis stands and heads to the window, continuing her efforts.

“Shh, angels,” she hushes, bouncing both gently. “Mommy’s got you. Look out here, this is called rain. A lot of people don’t like it, but I do. It reminds me of your mama.” The babies quiet a little as she speaks, so she decides to keep going. “Your mama taught me how nice rain can be. She taught me how to dance in it, and showed me how peaceful it can be. You two and Mama are the only sunshine I need.”

Janis whirls around when she hears a sob come from behind her, finding Cady awake and crying gently.

“I love you so much,” Cady weeps, reaching for her family. Janis comes back to her side and hands over Leo, making it easier for her to bend down for a kiss.

“I love you too, Sunshine,” Janis murmurs against her lips. “So much. Did you have a nice rest?”

“I did, thank you,” Cady says with a sniffle. “Did you sleep at all?”

“No,” Janis says sheepishly. “I couldn’t stop looking at them, I just held them the whole time.”

Cady smiles at her contently. “That’s adorable. But you need to sleep too, we’re not going to get much for a long time.”

“I know,” Janis says. “But they’re so cute, I just… I don’t want to let them go.”

Cady reaches for her again, so Janis bends down for more kisses. Cady eventually scoots herself over again, inviting Janis to crawl in next to her.

“They already sound different,” Janis murmurs happily as she looks down at the babies resting in each of their arms.

“Do they?” Cady chuckles, leaning against her.

“Mmhmm. Leo’s cry is higher and more squeaky,” Janis says. “Layla’s is lower pitched.”

“How cute,” Cady hums. “Our little family.”

—————

They stay that way for a long while, through the first feeding, during which they learn that neither baby will eat properly. Janis and Cady just roll with the hits as they come. This is nothing compared to what they’ve already been through.

An hour or so after that, a voice rings out through a speaker on the wall. Janis perks up when she hears Damian’s name, and he enters with Aaron just a couple minutes after Cady lets them know they can come in.

Janis looks up from Leo’s tiny face when he enters and, for the first time, rests her down in her cot. Damian catches her when Janis flies into his embrace.

“Damian, I have babies. I have daughters,” she mumbles into his chest. “And they’re-they’re so perfect.”

“Congratulations, Jan,” he says back.

Janis steps back after clinging to him for a moment and heads to pick her baby back up. Cady reaches an arm for a hug from her friends, leaving the other resting over Layla, who’s sleeping on her chest.

“Gorgeous, how are you?” Damian asks, bending to hug her gently.

“Physically, woof,” Cady chuckles before she looks down at the baby resting on her. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”

“Aww,” Damian coos. “And who’s this little angel?”

“This is Layla,” Cady says contently. “She’s the older one, and the bigger one. Layla Reese Sarkisian-Heron. And Janis has Leo. Leo Juliette Sarkisian-Heron.”

Damian coos over the little one excitedly. “She’s so cute.”

“Do you wanna hold her?” Cady asks.

“Can I?” Damian asks anxiously.

“Of course,” Cady laughs. “I need to do skin-to-skin with Leo anyway. Just wash your hands. Jayjay, can you swaddle her for them?”

Janis gives Leo to Cady and gently takes Layla, kissing her little cheek and wrapping her in her blanket again. Damian and Aaron both wash their hands thoroughly and sit on the bench under the window. Damian reaches out, so Janis rests Layla gently in his arms. His eyes suddenly go very wide.

“What’s wrong?” Janis asks with a slight chuckle. The monitors stay stable, so she knows the baby is fine.

“Nothing, sorry,” Damian breathes. “I just realized that this is, like, a person. That you made. You guys made this person.”

“That we did,” Janis laughs. Layla’s eyes flutter open slowly at all the new voices. “That’s your Uncle Damian holding you, Ladybug. What do you think of that?”

Layla pokes her little tongue out at him, making everyone laugh. “That’s about right. They look so much like you, Janjan.”

“They really do,” Aaron agrees. “I think it’s the hair.”

Janis heads back to her wife and other baby a few feet away, curling protectively around them. “They’re healthy and they got Caddy’s eyes, that’s all I care about.”

Leo wakes too, blinking at her against Cady’s chest. Janis rests her head next to her, so her nose is almost touching the baby’s. Cady giggles and brushes her hands over both of their heads.

“You are one of the most precious things in my life,” Janis informs the baby seriously. “You’re so small, but you run my whole life now.”

“Five pounds of raw power,” Cady chuckles. “And cute chubby cheeks.”

Janis kisses one of said chubby cheeks and then pulls back to rest against Cady’s shoulder, but Leo lets starts to cry when she does. Janis rests her face back down and she goes quiet again.

“I told you they’d like you,” Cady whispers. “She wants to see her mommy.”

Janis just grins slightly. “Maybe one will be a mommy’s girl.”

“I think so,” Cady says. “But they both love you. We all do.”

“I love you too,” Janis says, tipping her head up to see Cady.

Leo drifts off again after a few minutes, so Janis gives Cady a quick kiss and heads back to Damian and Aaron.

“Oh, are we the first ones to visit, by the way?” Aaron asks suddenly, sitting up from where he’s been leaning against Damian’s shoulder.

“Yep,” Cady confirms with a kiss to Leo’s forehead. “The Plastics had work and our families aren’t in town yet.”

“Yes!” Damian cheers quietly. Janis looks at him in confusion. “We’re the first to meet them. And we got them presents, so we get to give them their first ever presents. After they’ve been born, anyway.”

“You got them gifts?” Janis asks quietly. “Aww.”

Damian carefully hands Layla to Aaron and grabs a bag that Janis had somehow missed. He pulls out a stuffed giraffe and a stuffed elephant from himself, and pacifiers with matching miniature stuffed animals on the end from Aaron.

“Aww,” Cady coos from the bed. “How sweet. They’ll match their room, too. Their first stuffed animals.”

Janis takes the giraffe over to Leo and Cady, deciding that should be hers since she was technically a quarter-inch taller than Layla. Layla is more than a pound heavier, so she gets the elephants.

“So cute,” Cady says happily, resting the giraffe next to her on the bed. Another voice suddenly rings out through the speaker on the wall, letting them know the Plastics have arrived. Cady calls them in, and they come parading through the door with even more presents.

Regina pouts when she sees Damian and Aaron, realizing they beat them there. She hands Janis a gift card and ties a balloon to Cady’s bed rail, explaining that she didn’t know what to get in terms of an actual present, so they have a thousand dollars to spend on whatever they might need for the twins. Janis chases her around the room to try and give it back, making everyone else laugh, but Regina refuses to take it.

Gretchen gives them even more handmade blankets, this time teeny tiny and pastel rainbow patterned. Karen brought a whole cheesecake.

“Oh my god, thank you,” Cady laughs at both gifts. “Oh, these blankets are so soft! Look what Auntie Gretchen made you, Bumblebee!”

Janis takes Leo and wraps her loosely in the new, impossibly soft blanket. She smiles as the baby brings her hands up and squishes her own cheeks in her sleep. Cady takes the cheesecake and a fork and just goes to town. Nobody judges.

“Can I hold one?” Karen asks shyly. “They’re so cute! Baby emoji, confetti emoji.”

“Thank you,” Cady chuckles around a mouthful of her delicious dessert. “And of course you can hold them, just wash your hands.”

Karen does, and Gretchen and Regina follow rather more apprehensively. Karen sits by Damian on the bench, and he hands over Layla. Janis gives him Leo to meet instead, and Gretchen and Regina sit on either side of their girlfriend to peek at the babies.

Karen proves to be a natural with babies, cradling Layla perfectly and being careful of all her monitors. Gretchen and Regina are a bit less natural. Gretchen tenses quickly when Damian passes Leo over carefully, but relaxes once she has a solid grip on her and is positive the baby is okay.

After a while, she hands her to Regina, who also immediately tenses. But Regina doesn’t relax.

“Damn, Reg, you were less tense in the spinal halo,” Janis jokes from where she’s cuddling her wife. “She’s only five pounds, she can’t hurt you.”

“But I can hurt her,” Regina mumbles anxiously. “And I really don’t want to.”

Karen helps adjust Leo so she’s resting more comfortably, and rubs a spot on Regina’s back that always helps her calm down. Very gradually, Regina loosens up and holds the baby like a normal human would.

“What are you looking at, you little punk?” She coos when Leo wakes up and stares at her.

“She wants to see her Aunt Reggie,” Janis says. Regina snaps her head up.

“They are not calling me Aunt Reggie,” she insists. Janis pouts at Cady, who chuckles quietly and nods at her. Janis grins victoriously. “God, you look like Janis.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Janis says. “But it’s not all me, they got Cady’s eyes, and nose, and ears. And size.”

“Hey!” Cady says, flicking her gently. “I’m not that small. And the doctors said they’re a good size for preemies.”

“I was kidding, Butterfly,” Janis says, leaning in for a kiss. “All three of you are perfect.”

————-

Cady and Janis continue watching as their friends coo over their daughters. Janis takes a long moment to watch Regina and Aaron in particular. She never thought she would have kids, and certainly never would’ve thought that Regina George would be one of the first people to meet them. And, in another universe, she and Aaron might be in each other’s places. Janis is very glad she lives in this one.

Everyone stays as long as they can, but eventually do have to leave to get back to their own responsibilities. They’re left alone until their own families arrive. Janis stands by the door and waits, catching her sister as she comes barreling in, being trailed by their parents. “Hands washed and sit down, then you can have one.”

Juliana listens immediately, quickly but carefully cleaning her hands and running to sit on the bench. Janis gives her Layla, since Leo is a little more delicate. She trusts her sister, but still wants to be careful.

“So precious,” Julie says quietly, calming down quickly for her own standards. “I’m gonna buy you guys so much candy.”

“No,” Janis says immediately.

“Legos?” Julie compromises.

“Sure,” Janis agrees.

“And puppies, and then I’m just gonna leave them,” Julie chuckles. Their mom sits down by her and peeks at the baby’s face.

Janis hands Leo to Cady’s dad, who instinctively starts rocking her gently. He tears up quickly as he looks at his granddaughter.

“What are their names?” Cady’s mom asks quietly, running a tender hand over Leo’s head.

“Julie has Layla Reese,” Cady says, watching her parents both start crying quietly as they hear the middle name. “And you guys have Leo Juliette.”

Janis’ mom also tears up when she hears Leo’s middle name. Julie hands her Layla, and she takes her with a sniffle.

“Nice job, binti,” Cady’s dad says quietly. “Proud of you.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Cady chuckles thickly, wiping her own tears away. She’s still quite hormonal, and watching everyone cry was too much for her.

“I can’t decide who they look more like,” Janis’ mom says. “So much of my Janny, but then those eyes. All Cady when they’re open.”

“Ha,” Janis says. “They’re not all me. My mom says so.”

“You’re such a child,” Cady laughs, kissing her tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you so much,” Janis murmurs back against her lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Cady asks in confusion.

“For them,” Janis says thickly. “For doing this. Giving us a family. I love them so much it hurts.”

“We were a family before,” Cady says. “Now it’s just… bigger. More love.”

“More love indeed,” Janis agrees.

I didn’t think I could love you more.

-

LOL PRANKED ITS TWO BABIES

anyway. I hope you enjoyed! I know babies aren't everybody's thing, but if y'all would like to see more of Leo and Layla please let me know and I will absolutely do more.

request status is still paused, but I am hoping to reopen them in a couple weeks.

thanks for reading!

lots of love,

ezzy

[cassandraclare]

The Anniversary Party

Someone asked me about the flash fiction this month, and I realized I’d sent it out in my newsletter, but forgotten to post it! So here’s the whole Jan/Feb story, in which we get a bit of background on Cordelia and her family. Art by Cassandra Jean, of course! This is the last of the flash fiction stories, and it’s been a pleasure to share them with you!

THE ANNIVERSARY PARTY

FRANCE, 1899....

Cordelia did not like Menton very much. She should have, in theory. Menton was a pretty seaside town, a jumble of pink and yellow buildings along a small harbor, mostly slips for sailboats and some fishing boats. The air was warm and Mediterranean, the fish was exceptionally fresh, she could see Italy from her bedroom window across the far side of the harbor. What was there not to like?

They had come for her father’s health—why else did they go anywhere, after all—and Cordelia could understand why Menton had a reputation as a healing destination for the sick and the elderly. Indeed, her father’s health had rebounded since their arrival a few weeks earlier and he was in a period of good spirits, willing to dance with her in the parlor and even managing to drag a smile out of Alastair on occasion. Alastair had entered a turbulent adolescence, as Cordelia overheard her mother say to her father. Cordelia hoped that when she was Alastair’s age she would maintain her composure a little better than he was managing.

But Menton’s charms quickly faded for her. Its popularity with the sick and the elderly meant that the town’s population had a large proportion of both, and while Cordelia wished them all well, they did not offer her much in the way of companions or even adults interested in conversation with a girl for whom French was her third language, and not very strong. The beach turned out to be made not of sand but of large round pebbles—Cordelia had never heard of such a thing, a beach made of rocks, very uncomfortable on bare feet, not pleasant to lie on, and offering no opportunity for building castles or digging trenches.

Worst of all, her parents continued to be as antisocial as ever, making no efforts to reach out to the local Shadowhunter community (the closest Institute being in Marseilles). And so Cordelia was alone. Sometimes she was alone with Alastair, but he mostly ignored her, and even so they were both duly sick of each other’s sole company after a week.

The only source of relief was the knowledge that this, too, would pass—the Carstairs family moved constantly, obsessively, for the sake of her father’s health. Cordelia could never understand the logic of it, except that she agreed that it was worth doing anything if it meant her father’s wellbeing. In this case, it was a bit of a relief. She knew they would not stay in Menton more than a few months.

This was, she felt, why she was so alone. Her family never stayed anywhere long enough for her to meet anyone her age, much less make friends. Her only real friends in the world were Lucie and James Herondale, and only because, Cordelia knew, Will and Tessa Herondale had always worked very hard to make sure that their children saw the younger Carstairs. It was still a rare treat to see them, as the Herondales ran the London Institute, and thus were usually in London, and occasionally in Idris, while Cordelia and her family were all over the map.

And here again, the Herondales came to her rescue, this time in the form of a letter her father read aloud at the breakfast table.

“’Good morning, Elias and Sona,’ – I say, how would he know what time of day we’d read it, the man is mad as a hatter—”

“We are reading it in the morning, though,” Cordelia said. Her father gave her an indulgent smile and went on.

“’It is a capital day here in London, and I hope it will be a capital day in Paris six weeks hence, when Tessa and I will celebrate our nineteenth wedding anniversary. As it is not the custom of any known culture to make a to-do out of the nineteenth wedding anniversary, we have decided to throw an enormous party.’”

“A ball!” cried Cordelia, but a worry poked at her. Would her parents attend such a thing? Her father was frowning at the letter, but possibly he was simply trying to make the words out better without his glasses.

“It’s not a ball,” said Alastair, who had stopped halfway down the stairway to listen.

“’A ball, if you will,’” her father read on. “Well done, Cordelia.”

Cordelia stuck out her tongue at Alastair.

“’We would love if you and your darling children would join us…if you would do us the pleasure of responding…,’ et cetera, et cetera…” Her father scanned the letter. “And then it has the date and the address and all that.”

“It started out strong, but it ended in something of an anticlimax,” Alastair said.

“Can we go?” Cordelia said eagerly. “Can we please? I would so like to see Lucie and James. And maybe  I’d meet some of the people Lucie talks about in her letters!”

“I would like to see anyone at all other than you lot,” said Alastair mildly. “No offense intended.”

“Alastair!” Sona scolded, but Cordelia was not about to let Alastair distract from the main point. She redoubled her efforts in the direction of her father.

“Papa, can we go, please? You’ve recovered so well, surely a trip of only a few days would be possible. Don’t you want Shadowhunter society to see how well you are?”

“Hm,” her father said. He looked at her mother, who looked back. They exchanged a series of incomprehensible looks with one another.

“If you think it would be a good idea,” Sona said to Elias. Cordelia’s father gave Cordelia a long look. Cordelia tried to catch Alastair’s eye, but he’d turned away and was looking with disgust into the middle distance, a typical expression for him these days.

“I think we could manage a train trip and a few days in Paris,” her father allowed. “I do adore Paris.”

Cordelia threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

#

Cordelia spent the next weeks in a state of constant dread. She didn’t dare remind her parents of the upcoming trip, lest they remember that they had intended to cancel and not attend after all. It had happened before, but never before for an event in which Cordelia had a strong investment.

But when the event was a few days away, her father brought up the timetable of the Calais-Méditerrannée Express train at breakfast. Tickets were bought, bags packed, and still Cordelia could barely believe it when she found herself the evening before the party, pulling into the Gare du Nord in an elegant blue train car, clutching her hands in her lap in anticipation: Paris, at last she was in Paris! She would see her future parabatai, and her brother, and the cream of Shadowhunter society, and she would do so in Paris.

The next day found her gazing into the full-length mirror in their rooms at the Hôtel Continental on the Rue de Rivoli and wondering that she was even the same girl who had been miserably pining away a few days before. Her mother had helped her select her dress, a frothy lemon confection of lace and silk. She wasn’t entirely sure it suited her, but it was very elegant.

Even Alastair regarded her with something in the neighborhood of admiration when he came in to fetch his gloves. “You look surprisingly mature,” he told her. Cordelia thought that was probably equivalent to a full swoon, for Alastair. For his part, he was clearly aiming at “mature” as well, having put on a brown sack coat with only one of its buttons buttoned, and having dared to apply a dab of pomade to his black hair, which, Cordelia had to admit, did make it shine compellingly.

“You look like you’ll be trying to impress someone at the party,” Cordelia teased him. “Anyone in particular?”

“Everyone,” Alastair sniffed. “Everyone that is anyone.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes.

Her father was in high spirits as they entered the carriage a short time later, joking and laughing. Her mother was quiet, watching her husband with a smile and a considering expression, and that is how they were for the entire ride to the Paris Institute.

#

She had been practicing her French, and when the imposing figure of Madame Bellefleur greeted them at the Institute door with a paragraph of rapid-fire enthusiasm and questions, she understood them: welcome, how was their journey, isn’t it frightfully chilly tonight. She began to think of a reply, and found that her entire speaking ability in the French language had departed her brain in exactly that moment.

Her father’s French was fluid and expert, and Cordelia felt a little rush of pride as he said, “Madame Bellefleur, dear! You are looking as lovely as ever, Odile. But what has become of you, that you’ve fallen so far to be working the door?”

Madame Bellefleur laughed, a hearty chuckle that made Cordelia like her immediately. “I sent the maid off to enjoy herself. I like answering the door, Elias — it may be the Herondales’ party, but it’s my Institute.”

Inside, Cordelia slipped away from her parents as soon as it was feasible and went to look for her friends. It took her all of five minutes to become hopelessly lost. Unlike any Institute she had been in before, this one was laid out as a labyrinthine series of interconnected salons. Each looked much like the last, and was crowded with adults, none of whom Cordelia knew, and most of whom were speaking in rapid French. She had not spotted a single Herondale, and the clatter and chatter of the party guests was beginning to make her feel less like a young sophisticate at the ball and more like a little girl who had lost her mother at the market.

Out of nowhere came a whirlwind of petticoats, which turned out happily to be Lucie Herondale, throwing herself into Cordelia’s arms with great force and a squeal of delight. “Cordelia, Cordelia, you must come, Christopher is going to teach us how to eat fire!”

“I’m sorry?” Cordelia said politely, but Lucie was already pulling her toward the door to the next salon. “Who is Christopher?”

“Christopher Lightwood, of course. My cousin. He saw a man eating fire in Covent Garden and he said he’d worked out how to do it. He’s very scientific, Christopher.” Lucie’s progress was stopped short, and Cordelia looked up to see a tall, slender older girl, with dark hair braided atop her head and a striking look. She was wearing a lacy blue dress without much enthusiasm. She raised her eyebrows and stared Lucie down. “And this is his sister Anna,” Lucie said, as though she’d planned the encounter.

“Christopher will not be eating any fire,” said Anna, “or indeed anything other than the canapes tonight.”

Lucie said, “Anna, this is Cordelia Carstairs; she’s going to be my parabatai.” Cordelia felt a rush of affection for her friend—she felt so alone so much of the time, but she wasn’t, not really. She was going to have a parabatai; neither she nor Lucie would ever fully be alone again. Or that’s how she had come to understand it would feel.

Anna, however, merely arched an eyebrow. “Not if Christopher burns the Institute down, she won’t.” She turned her piercing gaze onto Cordelia. “Carstairs?” she said curiously. “What Carstairs?”

Cordelia knew what that was about. She gave Anna a smile. “Jem Carstairs is my second cousin. I only know him a very little bit, unfortunately.” Jem, who had been Lucie’s father’s parabatai, had a long and tragic story that ended with his having become a Silent Brother. He was Brother Zachariah now.

Would he be here? It was strange to imagine among the sparkling, laughing conversation, the clinking of glasses, a parchment-robed silent figure drifting about. But why wouldn’t he be? Lucie spoke of him all the time. Cordelia felt a little frisson of nerve at the thought of meeting him again—eagerness but also worry.

“Any Carstairs is welcome,” Anna smiled back airily. “And obviously any parabatai of Lucie’s is essentially a member of the family. Speaking of which.” She turned back to Lucie. “Don’t encourage Christopher, Lucie. You know how he is.”

“It wasn’t my idea!” Lucie protested. “It’s Matthew who set him on it. You know how he is.”

“I don’t,” said Cordelia mildly.

Lucie gave her a look of wide-eyed horror. “Oh, dear, what kind of host am I? Here is my best friend in the world, and I haven’t even introduced you to everyone! Anna, we must go.” She reached for Cordelia’s hand again.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Cordelia said to Anna.

Anna tipped her glass in Cordelia’s direction with a small smile. “Likewise.”

“All right,” Lucie narrated as she pulled Cordelia into yet another salon. “Matthew is Matthew Fairchild, he’s the consul’s son but don’t worry, he’s all right and not a bit stuck-up about it, and anyway Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Henry ran the London Institute when my Papa was young—he lived there, you know—and they’re over there, actually, hullo Aunt Charlotte!” Lucie waved a hand madly.

Cordelia looked over and quickly spotted Charlotte Fairchild—even someone as socially deprived as she was recognized the Consul—who was in the middle of saying something very serious to a group of equally serious-looking people, and didn’t notice Lucie’s wave. It was funny; Charlotte was tiny, bird-like, and towered over by the men around her, but she had a presence that dominated the room regardless. It was an admirable way to be, Cordelia thought.

Next to Charlotte was a red-headed man in a Bath chair, who did see Lucie wave, and waved back madly himself with a grin. Henry Fairchild. He was too far away for them to speak, but Lucie pointed at Cordelia and raised her eyebrows. Henry raised his hands and exclaimed in pleasure, and Cordelia waved too, a little less madly than the others.

“Is that Matthew with them?” Cordelia said. “The tallish one with his father’s hair?”

Lucie snorted. “Oh no! Matthew would be so offended. That’s his older brother Charles. He’s, well….”

“What?” said Cordelia.

“He’s a little dull.” Lucie had the good manners to look ashamed at her admission. “He’s very interested in politics and Shadowhunter business and all that, and he treats us all like children.”

“We are children.”

“Yes, so is he!” Lucie said impatiently. “But you wouldn’t know it from the way he acts.” She sighed. “He’s an all right sort, though. Next salon!”

With rapid speed Lucie took her through the remainder of the people Lucie considered it important for Cordelia to know. Her Aunt Cecily and her Uncle Gabriel—Gabriel also turned out to be among the group surrounding Charlotte—who were Anna and Christopher’s parents. Her Aunt Sophie, who had worked at the Institute as a mundane and then Ascended and married Gabriel’s brother Gideon.

Gideon, Lucie explained, was not here, because Thomas—oh, it was a shame that Cordelia was not going to meet Thomas, and also Thomas would never have allowed Christopher to get within a mile of fire to eat it, if he had anything to say about it, but anyway Thomas had broken his leg and Gideon had stayed home with him.

“Also there are the older girls,” Lucie said darkly. “Barbara and Eugenia. But they’re not much like us. They’re not even here; they had something else tonight. Can you believe it?”

Cordelia wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to believe it or not believe it, having never met either girl, so she only shook her head understandingly.

“Lucie!” A woman with heaps of curly scarlet hair was advancing on them at speed. “I need someone to help me put out the silver. Congratulations, girl, you’re hired.”

“Bridget,” Lucie protested. “Bridget was my nursemaid, when I was young enough to have a nursemaid,” she explained to Cordelia.

“And now your repayment of my kindness to you continues,” Bridget said sharply, “with the putting out of the silver. Come along.”

“I can help,” offered Cordelia.

Bridget looked offended. “I’ll not have a guest doing work at a party. This one here is hosting the thing.” She dragged off Lucie, who gave Cordelia a beseeching look of apology as she vanished into the crowd.

This left Cordelia back to meandering a bit aimlessly. Perhaps, she thought, she would go back and speak more with Anna, who had been so kind. Perhaps she would seek out her own family and see how they were making out.

Where were her family, though? After a few minutes’ wandering she spotted her mother, who seemed to be unusually in her element, animatedly telling some story to a captivated audience. But she couldn’t find her father, or Alastair, anywhere. It was a large party, surely, but she would have expected her father to be with her mother, or if not, captivating his own audience. Cordelia had been able to tell that he was the second-most excited to go to the party after herself. So where was he?

Perhaps, she thought, he had slipped away to the library. She wanted to get a look at the Institute’s library herself, anyway. She managed enough French to ask directions from one of the waitstaff.  It was down an iron spiral staircase, and Cordelia allowed herself to feel like a princess descending a tower.

The library had a tremendously high ceiling, which gave it an airy feel, but on the ground it was crowded with ancient, heavy oaken bookshelves, all of which were piled so densely with books that they were bent over by the weight, and it was astonishing that they had not already collapsed. Cordelia loved the place immediately. It was crumbling, in the most beautiful way possible. The light was warm and orange, and dust motes floated in it. It smelled pleasantly of must and old paper, and here and there were chairs of cracked, heavily aged and stained red leather.

Down at the other end of the room there was indeed a figure seated on the windowsill, curled up with a book, but it was obviously not her father. As she got closer, the dark-haired figure raised its head to peer at her, and she realized: it was James Herondale.

Part 2

“Hello,” said James Herondale. He peered up at Cordelia owlishly, as though he’d just come out of a reverie and wasn’t quite returned to the fully waking world.

“By the Angel, I’m awfully sorry.” Cordelia couldn’t help feeling she had interrupted something. She had met James before, of course—Will Herondale had been nothing if not diligent about making sure that his children and the Carstairs children knew one another—but she would not have described him as a friend, necessarily. He was a bit unknowable, in his odd way.

“No need to apologize,” James said mildly, “it’s me who’s skiving off this party to read.” He sat up rather suddenly, as if he’d only just realized he had been splayed casually across the windowsill and he should seek some kind of propriety.

“Most people don’t skive off parties,” Cordelia said, amused. “It’s usually lessons and chores, that sort of thing. Do you not like parties?”

“I like parties just fine,” James said, a bit defensively.

Cordelia crossed her arms and said sternly, “Well, I am in the library because I wanted to see the Paris Institute library, but also because almost the whole party are strangers to me. But they’re your friends, aren’t they? Wouldn’t you want to be with your friends? Matthew, and Thomas and the rest?”

James gave Cordelia a long look. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “They are my friends, I suppose, but really they’re more like relatives. I’ve always felt out of place among them.”

The thought of James being out of place anywhere struck Cordelia as funny. Compared to herself, he was self-assured, charismatic, effortlessly interesting. Compared to her awkward discomfort inside her own body, he was graceful and strikingly handsome—

Good Lord, Cordelia thought, where had that come from?

It was true, though. Among the pillars and medieval arches of the library he looked as at home as a marble statue, an oil painting of a classical youth at study. How could someone who matched his environment so perfectly be uncomfortable?

“I always feel out of place too,” she offered. “But I thought it was just because my family is always traveling so much. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to make friends.” She looked down at the ground. “Maybe it’s more complicated than that.”

James said, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Cordelia gave a little laugh. “Well, yes. We are. But how often do we see each other? Once a year, maybe twice, if we’re lucky?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see most of the people at this party more than that, anyway. We’re always in London and they’re usually in Idris. Although we’re meant to go to Idris this summer, so perhaps I’ll see them a bit more. And of course, we’ll all be at the Academy this fall.” He sighed. “Maybe I’ll start to think of them as real friends at some point. I just feel so different than them. Like…like everyone else is looking out at the world, at other people, but I am always looking inward, instead.”

Since to Cordelia James appeared to glow from within slightly, this struck her as an odd facet of his personality, but she supposed that the shy and retiring came in all shapes and sizes. “‘All man’s miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone,’” she quoted. “My father always says that.”

“Your father sounds very wise,” said James.

“Actually,” said Cordelia, “I think Blaise Pascal said that, and my father was only quoting him. You’d get along with my father,” she went on, surprised to find herself saying it out loud. But it was true; both her father and James had the same sense of the world being a bit too much for them, of preferring solitude, of seeking refuge in books. “I should go find him,” she said. “Again, I’m so sorry for interrupting your reading.”

James put the book down on the side table next to the window. “Again, please don’t apologize, I’m always happy for the opportunity to talk with you.” Cordelia found herself blushing, a bit, but James didn’t appear to notice. He stood up and said, smiling, “I shall escort you in your endeavor.”

On the way out of the library they fell silent, and Cordelia began to feel a bit awkward. It was usually so easy to speak with James, and yet she was unaccountably tongue-tied. Finally, desperate for a conversational gambit, she blurted, “Did you know that the original Paris Institute library burned down in 1574 when someone opened a Pyxis containing a Dragonidae demon?”

James raised his eyebrows. “I did not know that, Miss Carstairs,” he said, and Cordelia burst into giggles.

The smile was wiped quickly off her face, however, by the arrival of Alastair, who looked grim. “There you are,” he said, but he sounded more relieved than angry. He had a tired look in his eyes. “Father’s not well,” he said. “He’s asking for you.”

“Oh!” said Cordelia. She felt a brief, uncharitable flash of annoyance — her father’s sickness had spoiled so many parties, even Cordelia’s first rune-day. She turned to James. “I should go to him.”

“Of course,” said James. “I’m so sorry to hear he’s not well.”

“There’s an old monk’s chamber down that hall,” Alastair said, gesturing. “Father said he wanted to be someplace cool and dark.” He shook his head, agitated. “Sorry, Cordelia.”

Cordelia wasn’t sure what he meant—perhaps that it was usually her that Elias asked for when he wasn’t well, and not Alastair? She hoped it didn’t hurt Alastair’s feelings. She assumed it was because Elias believed girls made better nurses than boys, though she wasn’t sure that was true.

She left James and her brother there, looking askance at one another, and went down the hall until she found a short little heavy wooden door set in the wall. It swung open at her tentative push, and inside she found only a bit of dim light and a sparsely furnished room, with a small platform bed in the corner on which her father sat, his arm over his eyes.

“Papa,” she said, “I’m here.”

He groaned. “Cordelia, my love. It came on so suddenly.”

Cordelia felt a wash of guilt at having resented her father. “I know. I’m here, Papa.”

She went over to the bed and sat down next to him. The room was suffused with the strong smell, herbaceous and strongly bitter, that she associated with his episodes—the medicine that the Silent Brothers gave him to keep his health under control, she assumed.

“I’m sorry to ruin your party, Cordelia,” her father said after a moment. His voice was throaty, his words slow, as though it pained him to speak.

“No,” said Cordelia gently. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. I know you had looked forward to the party as well.”

He looked up from his arm and gazed at her fondly. “I already feel better now that you’re here.” He reached out and took her small hand in his larger one. “You’ve always been my best charm for getting well.”

Cordelia rubbed his hand anxiously. “What can I do, Papa? Is there anything you need?” She glanced around the room, looking for anything that might be helpful. Her eye fell on one of the room’s few decorations, a small shelf with a selection of cloth and leather-bound books arranged haphazardly across it. “I could read to you,” she said. That was what she would want if she were feeling ill, after all. To be read to would be the greatest act of love she could receive, so it only made sense to offer it here.

“Yes, that would be very nice.” Her father closed his eyes and smiled, as if in anticipation.

Cordelia went to examine the shelf. Doubtfully she said, “Well, in English we have either the 1817 classic How to Avoid Werewolves—”

“You mean, socially?”

“I’m not sure,” said Cordelia. “Your other option is the classic travelogue of the Shadowhunter Hezekiah Featherstone, Demons With Whom I Have Had Relationships.”

“Should you really be reading that second one?” her father rumbled.

“Papa!” said Cordelia, scandalized. “I don’t think they are romantic relationships.”

“Well then,” said Elias, settling back on the bed, and Cordelia thought he did already sound like he was feeling a bit better, “surprise me.”

#

James thought, it wasn’t Cordelia’s fault that he had been left alone with her older brother. It was only an unfortunate side-effect of the situation.

Though only a couple of years apart in age, James had always thought of Alastair as impossibly older than him, and Alastair, for his part, had treated James as impossibly younger. James supposed this was a natural result of being an older sibling. Certainly he could not imagine taking anyone fully seriously who was only his little sister’s age. In this circumstance, however, it left him unsure what to say to Alastair, or whether to wait for Alastair to speak, or whether to simply bolt from the room at top speed and assume Alastair was too slow to catch him.

Alastair ended the mystery by saying, in an odd tone, “My apologies for all this. My father is often unwell.”

“It’s all right,” James said, feeling strange to be reassuring an older boy. Tentatively he said, “Your father is a hero, after all.”

“What?” said Alastair, thrown off guard.

“Your father,” James said. “He killed the demon Yanluo.”

“Not by himself,” said Alastair.

“No,” said James, “but still. My father says an experience like that can leave scars. It’s a kind of sacrifice that heroes make, taking those scars so others don’t have to.”

He had meant it kindly, but was dismayed by the way Alastair’s face shut down. He became a blank, and when he looked at James, it was clear that he had ceased to regard James as being present in the room, or indeed, existing at all. “Quite,” he said. Without further comment he headed down the hallway toward the library..

“I’ll see you at the Academy,” James offered, one final try. “This fall. I’ll be starting.”

Alastair turned back, and in the same oddly neutral tone, he said, “That’s right. I suppose you will.”

After Alastair departed, James stayed where he was for a while, alone in the narrow, whitewashed corridor of the Institute. There was a party shaking the very rafters of the building, and yet here there was only silence. James thought of Cordelia, comforting her ill father, of Alastair stomping off for the sake of stomping off, obviously with no destination in mind.

His father had always made such an effort to get the two families together, the Herondales and the Carstairs. He had told so many stories about them, and was always encouraging their spending time together. And James had always been fond of the Carstairs, especially Cordelia. But now he thought, it’s odd, really, how little I know them as people.

He thought of the cousins, the parents’ friends, the Enclave members celebrating above. Other than his own family, he knew so little about any of them as people. And while he felt safe here, in the quiet, in the dark, he could tell that the world would not let him remain there for much longer. He would be out in the world, and he would need friends, and family, to help get him through.

Perhaps at the Academy, this fall.

[script-a-world]

How could I create enough living spaces for an earth with 90 billion population? Could there possibly be a lot more reclaimed land, man made islands? How about with populating currently mostly uninhabited or barren places, making what are currently towns into a big city? What would the poverty line be? How does all this affect animals and plants?

Tex: So originally I was going to say “be incredible inhumane and pack people tighter than sardines in a can”, but after a lot of math, it turns out this isn’t even remotely possible. I’ve left some margin for error, but you can read for yourself below how I’ve done things.

This is a formula that’s been calculated and re-calcuated for years, though admittedly I don’t really understand the point of the exercise in packing the planet with as many people as humanly (hah) possible.

In terms of sheer brute numbers, you could physically compile not only the current world population (as of this writing, ~7.7 billion), but also the all the previous generations put together (~101 billion people), in about 10,800 km2 - “which would easily fit inside Jamaica, Qatar, Kuwait, The Gambia, or Connecticut.” (WaitButWhy).

This doesn’t calculate for living space, as in the area an individual person needs to use such facilities as a bedroom, a bathroom suitable for washing oneself and not just a powder room, and possibly a kitchen (something of varying inclusion historically, see: Rome). It could be argued that bathrooms could be outsourced to a communal area as well (see: outhouses and public toilets).

What you would like to include for a residential unit varies by what you’d like to include in it. Insider posted an article titled “25 photos of tiny living spaces around the world”, where the sizes of a microapartment can go as small as 15 square feet (~1.39 m2; National Geographic). Quite likely the most basic amenities like showers, toilets, and washing facilities are outsourced as communal spaces - these are often apartments, though depending on the landlord they can be just as cramped.

Technology has enabled these microapartments, single room occupancies, and even capsule hotels to have a comparative level of luxury. As many college students who live in cramped quarters can likely tell you, it makes a substantial difference in living quality to have such things as hotplates, microwaves, laptops, and miniature TVs when space is at a literal premium.

We’ll take Hong Kong as an example, since they were technically already listed in the Insider article with their “coffin homes”.

The country has a population of ~7.5 million, with a land mass of 1,104 km2. 7.5 million divided by 1,104 km2 = 6,793.478261 people per km2. This is going to be a reference number, and we’ll be using it again later to do comparisons.

Now, to fit the same population per coffin home apiece, let’s take that same 7.5 million and divide it by 1.39 m2 - this comes out to 5,395,683.453 people per m2. That needs converting to km2, which multiplied by 1,000,000 (to cancel out the m2 in the stoichiometry) now results in 5.39568345x1012 people per km2 for coffin homes.

To compare these two numbers, I’ll take a percentage - if we assign the coffin home number (5.39568345x1012 people per km2) as A, and the original Hong Kong land mass number (6,793.478261 people per km2) as B, we can more easily calculate the percentage of each value to each other according to the following steps:

Plugging in the numbers, we get A (coffin home) as 7.94244604x1010% of B (original Hong Kong). That’s several billion percent more people per square kilometer than the original density.

This means that if we squish people into coffin-sized homes as that Business Insider article mentioned, 90 billion people - living requirements outside of a bed excluded! - could exist on 6.4780814x1016 km2.

Earth’s habitable land mass as of 2019 is 104 million km2 (Our World in Data), and this makes the amount of land required for 90 billion people - presumed as a single layer and only on Earth’s habitable land - 6.22892442x1010 percent more than the amount of habitable land on Earth.

Now, a converting everything into multiple levels might work, yes? Skyscrapers are classically 10-20 levels, and 40-50 in the modern age (Britannica), but I’ll go whole-hog because of the scale of numbers we have and go straight toward the largest number I know - Coruscant at 5,127 levels (Wookiepedia).

6.4780814x1016 km2 divided by 5,127 levels is 1.2635228×1013 km2 per layer. This single layer is still 12,149,257.7% more land required than there is habitable land on Earth.

Now, I don’t know if you’d like to expand this to non-habitable land, but either way, you would still need to calculate in the amount of space required for other requirements such as bathrooms, areas to cook/eat, medical services, transportation, educational spaces (provided you haven’t somehow squished everything into a helmet for “flash training” à la Star Wars clone troopers, detrimental to mental health as it is), places for people to work at jobs that can’t be done from their bed, and agriculture and manufacturing.

If you assume that these coffin homes are “only” a third or half of the cumulative living space, you would still need to multiply your required amount of space by at least 2-3x of the coffin home requirements.

Because of this, your question doesn’t account for the more humane theory of optimum population, as the above types of raw arithmetic calculations are inherently unable to factor in intrinsic values such as happiness with one’s life, enriching interactions with others, or the relaxation that comes from being around nature.

I would have to assume that the level of technology necessary for packing people like sardines in a can would need to be, at minimum, space age, but there are still space requirements (aside from the above-stated) for things like utilities and like… how big the walls are. I did not calculate for walls! This would realistically place people in mid-air and that’s not even feasible because you need to construct the coffin homes you’re wanting to shove people into.

My questions to you are these - what prompted you to consider this many people on a planet sized and shaped like Earth? Is it critically important to your plot, or does this have some function of novelty that appeals to you?

Is this plot based on Earth, particularly of a parallel or observable future, or is it based on some fictional world like Coruscant from Star Wars? How does this kind of world factor into your story, and how would it impact the plot if it were removed?

90 billion people on Earth - of any timeline or parallel universe - is so exceptionally far over the maximum carrying capacity that it’s flatly catastrophic to the environment, if it’s not equally as disastrous to the people from the way they would need to be treated in order to make your idea feasible.

This amount of population is far more sustainable on a substantially bigger planet, so I’m deeply curious why you’ve picked Earth. Is it because it’s the most familiar one for you, or something else?

Utuabzu: As Tex says, density is your friend. Theoretically you could pack billions of people into just a few towering megacities if you built them right, but at that level of technology you have to ask yourself why. It’d be a similar level of effort to build colonies in orbit and on other bodies in the solar system, with the added bonus of not having all your eggs in one basket and gaining access to more resources.  Thinking about the reason for having that many people on Earth will lead you to a much better idea about how they’d accomplish it. If Earth is like the capital of a galactic state, then likely you’d have one huge gigacity wherever the government actually is, and the rest of the planet would be fairly normal, maybe even better protected as nature reserves and parks. If space travel (and contraception) are unworkable, you’d probably have vast sprawling slums clustering around every city and constant food and water shortages. Reclaimed land is certainly a possibility, and can take multiple forms, but be wary of using it in earthquake prone areas as liquefaction is a nasty thing.

As for currently uninhabited places, they’re usually uninhabited for a reason. Now, technology might be able to overcome that reason, but you’d need to consider why people would bother when they could instead use the same tech to add to the carrying capacity of the major cities that already exist and that people already want to live in.

Another thing to consider when siting your megacities is local culture and geography. It’d be a lot easier to convince New Yorkers to cover their region in huge skyscrapers than Parisians, while the geology of Cape Town (largely bedrock) is better suited than that of St Petersburg (swamp) to supporting very tall structures. Consider climate too. The hotter or colder the area, the more energy will be needed to heat or cool buildings, while past the Arctic and Antarctic circles seasonal depression would seriously impact residents’ lives. Unless heavy use is made of green roofs and greenspace, a city of this size would produce an absurd heat island effect, maybe even enough to start affecting weather patterns.

Any city of this size would need to produce its own food and water, otherwise its hinterland would have to be unworkably large. Here, hydro/aero/aquaponics, desalination and recycling are your friends, with the added advantage of helping to offset some of the environmental strain the city will inevitably put on the planet.

[writingblock101]

Magic Touch (Dick Grayson x Reader)

Finally wrote for Nightwing. I can’t believe it took me this long. Anyways, I don’t know how I am writing this much, I keep getting random inspiration. If you have something in mind, send me a message and I’ll see what I can do. Enjoy! 

Summary: After a bad fight with Deathstroke, all Nightwing wants to do is go to his apartment and be with you. 

Word Count: 2,200

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish​

Red Hood walks over to Nightwing and hauls him to his feet with an arm pulled over his shoulder. 

“Come on, Wing, we’ve got to get you back to the Cave.” 

“No,” Nightwing mumbles, stumbling over his own feet while his side bleeds profusely. “No Cave.” 

“You’re going to bleed out--” 

“No. Cave.” 

Red rolls his eyes. 

“You’re still arguing with Bruce, aren’t you?” 

He’s silent, answering Red’s question. 

“Of course you are. What did that moron say this time?” 

“It’s not important,” Nightwing mumbles, leaning heavier on Red as dark spots danced in his vision. “Take me to Y/N.” 

“Y/N?” Red asks. “Who the hell is that?” 

“Y/N can help me,” Nightwing says then sprouts off an address before losing consciousness. 

“Shit,” Red groans, pulling Nightwing over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. “Fine, we’ll go to… Whoever the hell you’re talking about.” 

. . . 

You always wrote it off as healing fast or a strong immune system. It never struck you that your fast healing was actually a metahuman ability until you started dating Dick who made a habit of showing up at your apartment battered beyond belief. 

At first, you thought he was being cheesy when he said cuddling with you always took the pain away until you both realized Dick was healing miraculously fast. After multiple experiments, you and Dick discovered that Dick was not miraculously healing by himself, but you were transferring the energy to him to heal him.

While the healing was not instantaneous, between your knowledge of medicine and your ability, you significantly speed up the process, so it wasn’t a huge shock when Red Hood knocked at your door with a bleeding, unconscious Nightwing thrown over his shoulder. 

“Are you Y/N?” He asks. 

“Um… Yeah,” You blink, opening the door further and allowing him inside. “What happened?” 

Before Red could answer, Nightwing seemed to regain consciousness and caught sight of you. 

“Y/N,” He mumbles, trying to worm his way out of Red Hood’s grip. 

“Woah, Wing, hold on,” Red grumbles, carefully putting Nightwing on the ground but supporting his body weight. 

Nightwing shrugs him off and stumbles over to you. Red tries to catch his arm so he wouldn’t tackle you, but Nightwing is faster and already has his arms around you, most of his body weight leaned against you. 

“Wing! Don’t--” 

“He’s okay,” You reassure Red Hood, staggering for a moment then shifting your feet to better hold up his body weight. 

You wrap your arms more securely around Nightwing, running your fingers through his sweat and blood-soaked hair. He sighs in relief, his body relaxing under your touch as energy flows between you two. You feel a few broken ribs through his suit, placing your hand on his side and slowly starting to mend them back together, then your hand touches something wet. You look down to see your hand is covered in blood. 

“Okay, let’s get you on the couch,” You say, Red coming over to help pull Nightwing off of you and settle him on the couch. “Can you get the top half of his suit off?” You ask, pushing Nightwing’s dark hair off his forehead. “I need to grab my supplies.” 

You stand to grab your med kit when Nightwing’s hand catches your arm. 

“No,” Nightwing mumbles in protest. “Stay.” 

You roll your eyes with a fond sigh. 

“You’re going to bleed out on my couch if I don’t stitch you up,” Then you lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right back, Dick.” 

While you gather your medical supplies, Red helps Dick out of the top half of his suit and takes his helmet off, figuring if you knew who Dick is, you probably knew who Red Hood is. You come back and start prepping the medical supplies. Jason holds his hand out to you. 

“I’m Jason,” He introduces. “Dick’s brother.” 

“Y/N,” You shake his hand then chuckle. “But I guess you already knew that.” 

Jason shrugs while you frown at Dick’s side. You place a hand above the large gash, letting energy flow into Dick until his side stops bleeding then threaded your suture and begin stitching up his side. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Jason frowns. “Are you a meta?” 

You shrug, still focused on stitching up Dick. 

“Yeah, a little bit. Nothing instantaneous.”

While you stitched Dick up, you kept at least one hand on his chest, transferring energy to curve the pain. Dick mumbles something to you that you don’t catch. 

“What did you say?” You pause, leaning toward Dick’s head to hear him. 

“I said Deathstroke’s swords are sharp,” Dick mumbles. 

You chuckle, pulling tight on one of the stitches. 

“Yeah, babe. I’ve heard he’s known for that. I thought you and Slade were on good terms?” 

Dick shrugs. 

“I stopped him from completing a contract. He wasn’t happy.” 

Once you finish stitching Dick up, you check him over for any other dire injuries. Other than his side, everything else is fairly manageable: a handful of broken ribs, bruising, and a few smaller lacerations. 

“Alright, Dick, let’s get you in the shower so you can get all this blood off you,” You help him off the couch, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulder. 

He kisses your temple as a silent thank you then you both move down the hall to get the shower started. While Dick sits on the toilet, carefully peeling off the rest of his suit, you start the shower and grab Dick some fresh clothes. 

“Do you think you can shower?” You ask, running your fingers through Dick’s hair then cupping his cheeks. 

He looks up at you with a smile. 

“Yeah, but,” He pulls you closer to him by your belt loops. “It would be more efficient if you joined me,” Dick adds with a coy smile. 

You shake your head with a grin, running your hands down his shoulders. 

“Okay, first of all, shower sex wouldn’t be feasible right now because you have fifteen stitches in your side. Second of all, your brother is still standing in our living room.” 

“I could be quiet, babe,” Dick promises with a wink and presses a kiss to your stomach. “Besides, your touch always makes me feel better. Doctor’s orders and all,” He slips his hands under your shirt. 

“You’re ridiculous,” You tell him, then tilt his head up and kiss him. “Get in the shower, horndog. I’m going to go be a good host.” 

Dick whines when you leave the bathroom, but you ignore him, rolling your eyes before walking back out to the living room where Jason is looking at various framed pictures. 

“So, you guys are dating?” He asks, pointing at a picture of you and Dick. 

Dick at his arms wrapped around you from behind and was kissing your neck while you laughed. 

“Yep,” You nod. “Have been for a while now.” 

“Huh…” Jason trails off. “I didn’t know Dick was seeing anyone.” 

“We weren’t trying to keep it a secret, but with how swimmingly the whole family dynamic thing is going right now,” You gesture vaguely to the air. “News about our relationship went on the backburner.” 

“Yeah,” Jason chuckles. “It’s never easy.” 

“Siblings,” You roll your eyes, then walk to your kitchen. “Do you want anything to eat or drink? Maybe a sandwich?” 

“Yeah, a sandwich would be great,” Jason sits down at the island while you get out bread, ham, cheese, and mayo. “So… How did you two meet?” 

“Dick crashed through my window,” You point at the french doors that led to a Juliet balcony in your living room. “Or, well, Nightwing I guess. Anyways, in very Dick Grayson fashion, of course, once the threat was apprehended, he started flirting and got my number to “fix the window”,” You smile, thinking about the cheesy lines Dick fed you. “We’ve been dating for a little over a year now,” You hand Jason the sandwich.

He takes a large bite and chews for a minute before opening his mouth and asking: 

“So… the meta thing… You can heal?” 

“I can… Speed up the process,” You explain. “I can’t instantly make things heal, but I can do little things, like stop the bleeding and lessen pain. Over time, I can heal broken bones, so I’ll be able to heal Dick’s ribs over the next day or two.” 

“Where did it come from?” 

You shrug. 

“Dunno. Honestly, I didn’t know I could do it until I started dating Dick because I don’t get injured as much as him.” 

“Do you think you could um…” Jason shifts and grimaces as his body tweaks. 

“Oh!” Duh, of course, Jason probably sustained some injuries given Dick’s stab wound. 

You quickly round the island and place a hand on Jason’s side, feeling his broken ribs shift. Jason sighs with relief, pain melting out of him. 

“Shit, you weren’t kidding,” He chuckles. 

“Yeah, I’ve been getting better at it,” You tell him. “I don’t know if you have somewhere to go tonight, I know you don’t live in Bludhaven, but if you want to spend the night here, you’re more than welcome. We have an extra bed and bathroom and I’m sure I can dig up some clothes that will fit you.” 

Jason quirks an eyebrow. 

“How do you know I don’t live in Bludhaven?” 

“Dick talks about you guys a lot. I’ve heard about all of you.” 

Jason nods, not saying anything. You don’t pry for him to respond. Whatever issues Jason has with Dick or vice versa is not any of your business. 

“I think it would be better for you to stay the night,” You nod your head toward Jason’s ribs. “At least let these heal a little.” 

“Yeah, I probably will then,” He nods reluctantly. 

“The guest bedroom is to the left and the bathroom is across the hall. The towels are clean, and I’ll bring you fresh clothes.” 

Jason stands up and grabs his helmet off the coffee table, then turns back to you. 

“Thanks… for all of this,” He gestures to the room.  

“Of course,” You smile then he disappears around the corner and you go to yours and Dick’s room to dig up a pair of sweatpants Dick defiantly stole from Jason and an old t-shirt that has always been too big on you. 

After dropping off the clothes in the guest bedroom, you poke your head in your bathroom to find Dick brushing his teeth with a towel wrapped around his waist. You frown at the deep bruising across his chest and step into the bathroom, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back. 

“Everything okay with Jason?” Dick asks, toothbrush half hanging out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, he’s staying the night.” 

Dick spits in the sink, his eyebrows raised. 

“How did you manage to pull that one off?” 

“I partially healed his ribs,” You slide your hands up Dick’s chest, resting them over the deep bruising on his sides, transferring energy over to him. 

Dick chuckles, turning so that he’s leaning against the counter, his hands on your hips. 

“That’s what always gets them,” He kisses the tip of your nose. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask, still holding your hands over Dick’s ribs. 

“I’m okay,” He pulls you into a close hug. “Especially now that I’m with you,” He quips and kisses the top of your head. 

You lean against him, running your fingers up and down his back. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” You admit into his chest. 

While Dick is a very skilled fighter and careful out in the field, his tendency to prioritize others over his own life always sends him home battered. Some nights were closer calls than others. Given the amount of blood Dick lost on the way to the apartment, tonight was one of those scary nights.

“Hey,” Dick tilted your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ll always come home to you.” 

“I know,” You smile and you believe him. “I just worry.”

You know Dick will always come home to you, but you still can’t help but worry. He leans in and kisses you deeply, running his hands up your sides before breaking away and pulling your hands off him, forcing you to stop healing him. He presses a kiss to both of your hands. 

“I’m okay,” Dick promises. 

“Let’s go to bed,” You pull him into the bedroom and toss on one of his shirts. 

Dick changes into boxers then crawls into bed, laying on your chest. You kiss the top of his head, running your fingers through his hair and down his back, watching as the muscles relax under your touch. You send an extra surge of energy into Dick, easing the pain away enough for his eyes to flutter shut. 

While Dick claims to be okay, you know he has the tendency to hide his pain from you, but it’s okay because you’re always there to help him. As long as by the end of the night, you’re able to hold him, you’re okay. 

You look down at Dick fondly, running your fingers through his hair before kissing his head again and whispering: 

“I love you.” 

You feel his arms tighten around you then you drift off. 

I really like Deathstroke, he’s a cool villain. Also, if you want to be added or removed from my tag list, send me a message! And like I said at the top, if you have a request, hit me up. Until then, I’ll just be writing whatever random inspiration I get. 

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Twenty- One - Ghostlight

To my grandmother Mina, who inspired this character. Thank you for never leaving me alone. I am who I am because of you.

The next morning was not an ordinary morning. It was a morning heavy with doubts and despair. For how can a parent endure the threat of having their own child ripped from their arms? How can someone deal with such a loss?

Victor, however, was characteristically proficient in setting his feelings aside, focusing only on the solution. He would have to find a way to keep his son safe, and he would have to find it fast, as he couldn’t bear to see his wife like this, riddled with worry. As soon as he felt her breath become even and deep, the exhaustion of the day winning over fear, he decided he would use the quiet of the dark to think of a solution. He spent the night on his leather sofa, whiskey in hand, surrounded by every legal book he owned, in search of an epiphany. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. He would sleep later, enjoying the glow of his happy wife, when they had solved the matter at hand.

As the sunbeams started to touch the wooden floors of the spacious living room, Victor rose his eyes from the pages filled with legal terms, sighing both in exhaustion and frustration. The lawyers would know better than him, anyway. At that moment, his most pressing matter was waking up his family and feeding them properly, but not before texting his assistant to schedule a meeting with his personal legal team at the earliest opening.

He was surprised to find the bed empty and neatly made. He entered the bathroom only to find it untouched, no fog from a hot shower, no towels used. In fact, the bathroom smelled like it had just been cleaned.

“Andy?” He called again, hearing some noise from the other side of the hall.

The laundry room was warm compared to the rest of the apartment, a strong scent of fabric softener lingering in the air. Victor was surprised to see several baskets filled with folded freshly clean laundry on the laundry room’s counter.

“You did all this? How long have you been here?”

“Owen needs his soccer gear clean by tomorrow.” She answered from behind the dryer’s door.

“You didn’t need to do all this. You could have asked the housekeeper.” He helped her hold it, taking a few steps back to stretch it.

“I couldn’t sleep and you weren’t there.” Andrea focused on folding one of Owen’s t-shirts. “And there is no use thinking about that woman, there is nothing I can do about her. This, I can do.”

“Ok, forget about the laundry. Come here.” Victor took her hand gently.

“I mean, I can’t make him stay, but I can do his laundry, right?” Her voice faltered slightly.”At least I can do that. I get to be his mom for now.”

Victor slowly wrapped his arms around his wife, enveloping her in a soothing embrace.

“We will solve this, there is nothing to be worried about.” He held her tightly, whispering into her hair.

“She’s his grandmother, his blood. No judge will refuse her custody.” She spoke into his chest, and he could feel her tears staining his sweater. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“There is plenty we can do. We’ll talk to the legal team today.”

He swayed gently, almost lulling her to calmness. It was evident that this was extremely painful for her, her last shot at motherhood, and still they were struggling. After a while, he felt her relax a little. He gently took her chin and lifted it, making her look at him.

“Go take a shower and get dressed. I’ll prepare a nice breakfast for us and get Owen ready, ok?” He kissed her temple, as his hand guided her by the small of her back towards their bedroom.

Andrea entered the bedroom and stepped into the shower, hearing his husband turn on the mixer in the kitchen. She couldn’t care less about breakfast, she wasn’t even sure she would be able to eat. Part of her was angry at Victor for being so calm while she felt like the faintest breeze would make her fall apart. She understood what he was doing, he was being strong for her. He was putting aside his own feelings for her benefit, he was ignoring his own fear to deal with hers, but that was not what she wanted. Part of her wanted him to cry with her, so she wouldn’t feel so unhinged. So… alone.

With a sigh, she turned on the hot water, letting it slide gently over her body, washing away the tension and the tears. Victor was in fight mode, that’s what it was. He would not let that woman take their son, and Andrea would fight for him too, with all her might, but… She wasn’t sure they should. Pamela was Owen’s family, the family he didn’t know he had. If he was at the orphanage and she showed up, it would be a reason for joy, not sorrow. Who were they to take him from his biological family, under the pretense that they got to him first? What if Pamela really had turned her life around, and wanted to give a good life to Owen? With his grandmother, he would learn more about his mother, about his past, about his culture. He would know where he got his red curls from or his sweet brown eyes. Although Andrea and Victor could provide him a good future, all they had from his past was some old pictures and his mother’s suicide letter, which she probably wrote in desperation. Maybe Rebecca would have forgiven her mother if she was in a better place mentally.

On another hand, although she hated to admit it, she felt exhausted. She let herself believe that she could be a mother, only to fail miserably. Her body was the first to betray her, with a bleeding womb and lifeless eggs, and now society was failing her as well, taking away her adoptive son. Maybe she should accept the fact that it would never happen, and stop trying altogether. She made herself sick for feeling this way, but she couldn’t help it. She had gone through so much hurt, fought so hard already. Laying down the sword and relinquishing the battle seemed like the only feasible option now. Maybe the wise choice would be to let go of Owen and just embrace her fate.

Her heart shrunk with guilt as she walked into the kitchen to find Victor and Owen happily bantering, preparing breakfast together. They were so happy. If there was a higher power, how could it not want them to have that?

“Mom! Mom! Look what I did for you!” Owen showed her a plate of pancakes, bananas, and pecans carefully placed on top of the stack, resembling a smiley face. “Dad made the pancakes, but I cut the fruit.”

“Good morning, my little Bug!” She held him tight, fighting away tears. “That looks amazing!”

“You weren’t feeling well last night, so I wanted to surprise you!” The boy smiled widely at her. “Are you feeling better today?”

Andrea mustered all her strength, wanting to keep that smile on that sweet little boy’s face. Now, more than ever, she didn’t want him to see her sad.

“I’m feeling so much better just looking at you.” She pulled him to her, giving her son the tightest hug. “I’m starving, I could eat you and your pancakes.” She pretended to bite him, Owen laughing loudly as he tried to evade his mother’s attack.

It was a morning heavy with doubts and despair, but they would try to fill it with happiness and love. For that boy, the parents decided to put their own anguish aside and live in that happy moment, jesting and laughing, discussing whatever childish topics he wanted to talk about.

Victor and Andrea looked at each other, both catching the other’s worried gaze. With a smile, they held hands, fingers locking together in reassurance. Whatever battle they had ahead, they would do it together, for the sake of their happiness. For the sake of their son. For that brief moment, they allowed themselves to hope. They weren’t alone. They had each other.

The lawyers were already waiting for them in LFG’s conference room, as instructed. Andrea sat on the chair beside him as Victor observed her carefully, trying to remember if he ever saw her this defeated, eyes sunken and sad, a tired expression, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Victor’s stomach shrank with worry, but he swiftly used the feeling to feed his fury instead.

“Did you see the documents I sent you this morning? What is your insight?” He asked the lawyers, unwilling to waste any more time.

“We still need to study the adoption laws more thoroughly, but so far we found no inconsistencies.” One of the lawyers spoke carefully. “According to the law, the grandmother has parental rights, she is the child’s next of kin.”

Victor grew agitated, as that was not the answer he was hoping for. In his mind, there shouldn’t be a law that would allow anyone to remove a child from his family like that, adoptive or not. He fought the temptation to rub his temples, wanting to look strong in front of his wife.

“In that case, what can be done?”

“As I said, we will analyze it in more detail, but so far, all indicates that the judge will decide in her favor.” The lawyer explained. “We need a good strategy in court, evidence that the child’s best interest is to remain with the adoptive family, instead of a blood relative. That letter you sent us may win us the case.”

“What letter?” He heard his wife ask. He chose to ignore her question.

“Let me know when you have something else.” He got up from his chair. “We are done for now.”

The lawyers quickly followed his lead, all leaving the room. Andrea, however, sat in place, eyes gazing at him coldly.

“Is it the suicide letter Rebecca left?” She insisted.

Victor sat down again with a sigh, taking his wife’s hand.

“You don’t need to worry about this.” He gave her a reassuring look. “Leave it all to me.”

“You are going to use the suicide letter that Owen’s biological mother wrote right before her death?” She sounded disgusted. “Do you realize Owen will probably be in the room when they read it?”

“As a last resort.” He was adamant in his decision. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“Will you really use such a hurtful event for Owen just to win?” She removed her hand from his, not looking him in the eyes. “Do you know what that will do to our son?”

“I will do whatever it takes to keep him with us, where he belongs.” He declared coldly. “I thought you wanted that too.”

“So you’ll scar him forever just to win? What if he doesn’t belong to us? No matter how hard it is for us, he found his family. He has a grandmother.”

“Yes, he has a selfish and abusive grandmother, whom his mother tried hard to keep away from him!” Victor got up, feeling his blood start to boil. “Is that the person you think our son should be with? Is that the family you think he should have? The same person that scarred his mother so deeply she felt no choice but to end her life?”

“She turned her life around, she wants to do well by her grandson.” Andrea replied. “She made a mistake, she paid dearly for it, she lost her daughter, her own family, and she will have to live with that pain. Who are we to say she doesn’t deserve a second chance?”

“You are defending her?” Victor asked, incredulous. Andrea confirmed it with her silence. “You are a fool to believe a single word that comes from that woman’s mouth.” He shot back bitterly.

“And you are selfish to think you are entitled to decide important things about other people’s lives for them. Victor!” Her eyes were pleading. “I am not defending anyone, if anything I’m defending Owen! I love that boy, I would give my life for him, but I can’t just decide he’s better off with me! I have to think about what’s better for him, even if it hurts me. I have to consider what he needs!”

“What he needs?!?” Victor almost yelled. “It’s incredible how gullible you can be! She walks into your office, tells you some pathetic sob story, and you fall for it? You should have fought for our son right then, put her in her place, instead of holding her hand and showing sympathy!”

Andrea paused, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You blame me for this?”

“I’ve seen you challenge adversity with a strength I could never find in another woman. I’ve seen you turn your life around, fight for what you want, face your abuser with commendable determination.” Victor spoke softly. “I don’t understand why you won’t be as strong for your son. For us.”

Victor had never touched a woman in anger, and he would never lay a hand on the person that he devoted his entire life to. However, at that moment, looking into her eyes, he felt like he had slapped his wife hard, so much that he could almost feel his hand sting. Still, he couldn’t feel sorry for what he had said. Her apathy was infuriating. She didn’t even fight back, try and prove him wrong. She simply blinked away a few tears and turned to the door.

“You know, you say I always see the best in things. Wishful thinking, you call it.” She spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Andy…”

“I can’t see anything good now.”

She wasn’t quite sure how she left that conference room, she felt like floating out of her own body, legs moving on their own accord. She arrived at LCG, hoping no one would notice she had been crying. Entering her office, she sat at her desk, her mind way too busy to work.

This had happened before, she could remember, this conflict of ideas. Victor was adamant in what he considered to be the right thing and left very little leeway for other options. He would easily mistake Andrea’s inertia for lack of interest, not considering that she wasn’t so quick to assume she knew what was right, she needed the time to consider the feelings of everyone involved.

In Andrea’s eyes, Victor’s inflexibility didn’t make him a bad man. She actually loved that her husband had such solid values that he expected people to follow, especially himself. He was a steady pillar in her life, doing whatever it took to keep her safe, and although sometimes it would lead to arguments, Andrea was thankful for that. It was one of the things that made her love him, how selfless and loving he could be.

But this time, things had gone too far. His determination was blinding him, and he was lashing out in the ugliest of ways: he was blaming her. It was so unfair, she stood up for him so many times, how could he tell her she never fought for him? It was like Victor couldn’t see her efforts, would not acknowledge her love, unless they were provided in his own terms. Again, like she did before their wedding, Andrea wondered if she was the right person for him, if they belonged together. She almost wanted to punch him for being so oblivious. How could he not see that she would go to the moon and back while bleeding herself dry for him?

“Is everything ok?” Diane asked as she walked into her office, interrupting her thoughts. “Henry called asking for you, says he saw you leaving the conference room crying.”

Andrea felt his eyes water once again.

“We had a fight.” She confessed.

“How bad was it?”

Andrea’s heart tightened in her chest.

“The worst ever.”

Diane sat on the chair facing Andrea’s desk with a sigh.

“Look, you and Victor are in a lot of stress right now, with that bitch wanting to take Owen.” Diane spoke calmly. “Emotions run high, people say things they don’t mean.”

“He blames me for it.” Andrea declared bitterly. “He says I didn’t fight hard enough.”

“Damn.” Diane whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Goldman says he canceled all his meetings and asked to be left alone. He’s not even taking calls.” Diane’s statement only made Andrea feel worse. “He’s probably beating himself up for it. You know he doesn’t believe that.”

“Maybe not.” Andrea shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I think the best you can do is give you both time to calm down and reflect. Focus on work, maybe, let him cool off. You can talk to him later.” Her friend advised.

Andrea stared at her phone, considering her friend’s words. She should call him, talk things through. Even if he believed she should have been harsher with Pamela, even if he thought she wasn’t fighting hard enough, he would never hurt her like this willingly. He loved her, she knew that much. They could sort things out, with a cooler head, and everything would be ok. She would be able to show him her perspective, and she would listen to his, and they would make a compromise. They had to. Their marriage was at stake. However, it was probably wiser to wait for the dust to settle.

In the meantime, she would try her best to focus on work, although her mind kept wandering back to the CEO on the top floor. She couldn’t help but glance at her phone, hoping it would ring, his face appearing in the called ID. However, a watched kettle never boils, and for Andrea, the kettle was her phone that kept stubbornly silent. Eventually, the clock on her computer signaled lunchtime, and on a normal day, her husband would call her to see if they could have lunch together. However, her phone didn’t budge.

It was overwhelming. She was at risk of losing her son and her marriage was hanging by a thread. She felt like she had no place to fall on. She was losing her footing, her ground, her pillar. Tears came without her realizing, and she released them with loud sobs that she stifled with her sleeve. She was exhausted, she couldn’t do it anymore. She needed her husband. She didn't care for an apology, she just needed to hold him; she needed them to be well again, at least as well as they could.

She got up and took her purse, decided to go to LFG and invite her husband for lunch. She had no idea how that would go, but she would take a chance. The moment she closed the door to her office, her phone rang.

Several floors up, Victor was in a debate with himself. He missed her, he was worried about her, but the guilt and the shame were freezing him in place. He had acted imperiously, making all the decisions by himself, disregarding everyone around him. Andrea could be at fault, but he was at fault too. She didn’t deserve the things he had told her.

He recalled their moment in the laundry that morning. It was clear that Andrea’s reticence wasn’t because she didn’t love her son. She loved him deeply, he was sure of that. She simply wanted him to be happy, even if she was unhappy. Victor wanted to win, while Andrea wanted Owen not to lose. Because he had lost so much already. This was her dream, to have a family, and she would willingly give it up so Owen had the family he needed. That’s how selfless she really was.

He couldn’t help but clench his hands in anger, what an idiot he had been. Now, more than ever, it was important that they were in this together. She needed him and he needed her. It didn’t matter who folded, he didn’t care if he took the first step, there should be no place for ego or pride in their relationship. He almost lost her once, he couldn’t lose her now. He wouldn’t. He took his phone, ready to call her. But before he could, he heard a knock at the door.

“What now?” He replied, frustrated.

It was her. Her eyes were swollen, her nose red. She had been crying.

“Andrea…” He wanted to go to her, to hold her, but for some reason… He didn’t.

She let out a loud sob, like someone had stabbed her in the heart, tears falling freely. That was enough to make Victor jump from his chair. He didn’t want to make her cry like that.

“Please don’t cry.” He hugged her tightly. “I hate to see you cry.”

“Victor.” She looked up at him, her lip trembling. “Your aunt called.”

Victor stared at his wife, confused. What did his aunt have to do with anything?

“She said…” Andrea trailed off, her throat too tight to speak. “Mina passed away this morning.”

He felt the floor sway under him, taking all the strength he had not to fall apart there and then. And despite their argument, despite all the hurt there was between them, she held on tight to him and kept him steady, giving him solace as emotion took over reason, giving him strength as his body shook. That’s when I knew I had kept my promise.

Life is like a play, I read somewhere. We are the characters that God created, and although we don’t have a script, we do have a role. Mine was to love that little boy. Even though he wasn’t mine, he was the thing I had of mine the most. And the scene I replayed the most in my head, during the whole play that was my life, was the one of a lonely boy leaning on my kitchen counter, after seeing his mother leave the house to live in another country.

“Everybody leaves me, Mina.” He said in a very low voice, almost like he was ashamed to admit it.

“That’s not true, Hummingbird.” I caressed his raven hair. “Your mother isn’t gone forever, and you can visit her whenever you want.”

“Why can’t I go with her?” He asked bitterly. “It’s not like he cares about me. She was the only one who cared. And now she’s leaving.”

“You shouldn’t fill that little heart of yours with the worries of adults.” I smiled, although my heart was breaking for that little boy. “And hey, I know I may not be much, but I’m here. I care.”

“I care for you too.” He looked at me with honest eyes. “You are my best friend, Mina. Without you, I would be alone.”

“My sweet hummingbird.” I hugged him as tight as I could. “Hey, let’s make a deal. I promise I will always be here for you, so you’ll never have to be alone. For your whole life, Victor, whenever you feel alone, you can come to me, just like you do now.”

“You won’t be here my entire life.” His eyes were sad. “You will die, eventually.”

“Then I promise I will only die when I know you’ll have someone else that will never leave you alone.”

“You can’t promise that. You won’t be able to keep it.” He challenged me.

“I can and I am. You’ll see.”

As I watched her caress his cheek, his hair, whispering comforting words, I knew my boy would be ok. Even in the darkest of times, my Hummingbird would be safe, because he had his light.

As for me, I was just a ghostlight, shining on the stage of this Universe, waiting for another play to come.

[angelsswirl]

Vellichor

The One With The Pregnancy

"Just keep breathin' and breathin' and breathin' and breathin'."

Jisoo's conflicted.

On one hand she finds you, her pregnant mate, extremely sexy, but on the other hand you, her pregnant mate, is just so mean.

Sure Jisoo maybe deserved part of it because she did get you pregnant on accident. Just Jisoo things.

But also, it takes two to tango and if she's not mistaken you were most definitely there when that happened and you were not complaining. In fact, you were doing the complete opposite.

"Baaaabbbbbbeeeee!" You whined from the bedroom.

Jisoo sighed, you were going to be the death of her.

"Yes?" Jisoo inquired as she entered the bedroom.

You were sprawled under the comforter comfortably. Jisoo knew that this was the first time you had been pregnant. She knew that this pregnancy was hard on you. It was one of the reasons the doctor had put you on bedrest.

"I wanna cuddle." You pouted.

"Yes! I can do that!" Finally! A feasible request.

Jisoo all but jumped into the bed with you. Seconds later she feels a weight landing on her side.

She looked down at her daughter and frowned, "I know you have a big girl bed now, but I still don't like the idea of you just getting out of it whenever you want to."

Lia shrugged, "We cuddle?"

"Only because you're cute." Jisoo lifted the three year old over her and inbetween the adults.

Lia happily snuggled against your round belly.

You sniffled.

"Oh no." Jisoo mumbled.

You sobbed.

Lia frowned and looked at Jisoo, "I hurt mommy?" Her bottom lip jutted out and wobbled a bit. Jisoo had told her she had to be careful now so you could grow her little sister, she didn't want to hurt her little sister.

"Oh no, baby, you didn't hurt me." You said through aggressive intakes of breath. You sobbed even harder.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Jisoo is thinking about crying too now.

"She's so warm and I love her so much and she called me 'mommy'!" You're hiccuping now.

"She's been doing that for months..."

"But it makes me so happy."

Jisoo should have just been happy with her unfeasible tasks.

~•~

The day you went into labor was the most terrifying day of Jisoo's life. It's too early and things were moving too fast and you looked too scared.

Jisoo felt helpless.

But almost an entire 9 hours of screaming and you cursing her out, she's holding a very tiny semi-healthy baby girl in her arms.

And she cried. She absolutely sobbed.

For a few different reasons. She cried for her mate. She went through so much to give Jisoo this seemingly impossible gift. She cried for her newest daughter. She was finally tangible. Jisoo could hold her and kiss her and love her. She cried for her oldest daughter. She would have killed to be in that room when Lia was born. She missed the first ten days of her life. She didn't get to name her (she definitely wouldn't have named her Lia) or hear her first cry and she never knew how much she desired that until now. But probably most of all, she cried because she was happy. She was just so happy.

"I think we made a deal." You said tiredly. You observed your mate with your child, a small smile covering your lips.

"Huh?" Jisoo mumbled distractedly. She was preoccupied with trying to pour every single ounce of love she could conjure into one single look, so this baby could possibly understand.

"We made a deal. I bet that if she looked like me the most, I got to name her, and if she looked like you, you could name her. So, what's her name?" You asked, your hand lazily rubbing Lia's back as she slept next to you on the hospital bed.

"I-I she's like twenty minutes old, she doesn't look like either of us?"

"That's a lie and we both know it. Your genes are unnecessarily strong, have you seen Lia? I'm sure it's like looking in a mirror. That baby you're holding looks like you. Now give me my baby's name."

Jisoo's not gonna lie. She had been planning on losing the bet. She had not planned for this turn of events.

She racked her brain for every name she had ever thought was cool, "Ryland?"

"Out of the ordinary, but I can live with that." You shrugged.

"Don't worry, Babe. You can get the next one." Jisoo smiled that charming smile that she assumed you loved.

Spoiler Alert: They all end up looking like miniature Jisoos.

"I'll hold you to that. I do get middle name privileges now, which is what I was really concerned about."

"Hey!"

"Ryland Irene Kim." You smirked to yourself. Jisoo scowled.

"No."

"Awe, that's cute. You think it's up for debate."

Jisoo pouted for the rest of the day.

~•~

Ryland is discharged from the NICU about a month later. Jisoo freaked out then too.

"Does Baby know me yet?" Lia asked as she peered into Ryland's crib. She had taken to calling the newborn 'Baby' instead of her name because well she's a three year old and that's what three year olds do.

"I don't think she knows much of anything, Kid." Jisoo answered.

"She knows Mommy."

"Well, Mommy is her food so..."

Lia looked horrified.

"Oh uh sorry not like that. It's-uh-the baby is not eating your mom I could have said that better..."

Luckily, you walked into the nursery behind them. You picked up Lia and  set her on your hip. You briefly explained what Jisoo had meant with a very useful cow analogy.

Jisoo stared at you in awe. She had never really found it necessary for alphas and omegas to get married if they were already mated, but somehow you had managed to change her mind without even talking to her.

She'll look for a ring as soon as she can.

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [20]

Masterlist

A/N: I write this as I sit in bed, knowing full well that I should be on the bus right now on my way to my lecture, but that doesn’t matter. Thank you all for your help last night, it truly did help me calm down a lot. Also I’d like to apologise for clearly being over dramatic (but God has punished me because I am actually a little ill now Oof). Anywho, enjoy the chapter and enjoy the gif of Claes which may or may not suggest acts that you shall do to Dracula which most definitley would not be in line with the current traffic laws

Oh, also a warning - there’s quite a few sexual references in this one and also an almost handjob.

~^*^~

Now, while Dracula was the most sophisticated, high maintenance, gentlemanly gentleman that you had ever had the pleasure of meeting, he definitely had some weird quirks. For one, he truly enjoyed showers and baths. He didn’t need them, considering his body didn’t sweat and nor did he reek of death (only to the human nose, apparently - dogs could smell him from miles off). He said that he simply liked the convenience of it. One of humanities greatest inventions, he had proclaimed.

Currently, you were indulging in his most recent quirk. Back pressed against the door of the bathroom, you could hear the shower running and another sound. Music. What you originally would have expected to be beautiful classics like Gymnopedie No. 1, maybe Clair De Lune or something along those lines, was actually...

Lil Nas X’s Old Town Road.

You were in hysterics. Your stomach had knotted with the force of your (almost) silent laughter, tears were threatening the corner of your eyes and your jaw ached. You didn’t have any idea just how Dracula had found it, or why he liked it so very much as to put it on repeat, but listening to him hum along the tune was spiralling you down into painful bouts of laughter every second that you heard it and continued to think about the bizarreness of the entire ordeal.

Maybe you should have laughed a little further away, since a certain male had heard the laughter that you had genuinely tried to conceal. He wanted to catch you off guard for being so inconsiderate to both his wishes to bathe and his music choices.

Back still pressed firmly against the door, you had to lean further into it just to support yourself and when whoosh. Down you went as steam billowed out and onto your back you went. It was Dracula’s turn to laugh now. You scowled, laugh immediately disappearing from your features as you pushed yourself up to look at him. Regret hit you. In just a towel, secured to his waist by his hand, he loomed over you as he continued to chuckle. His other arm extended over your head, holding the door open and holy shit, you didn’t realise the expanse of the muscle he had. Beads of water rolled down his skin, a thin layer of heat steaming off of him, as if to physically scream ‘look at how how I am!’ And you chocked on air. His hair all wet and falling into his face, his chest puffed out as his laughter continued. Dear heavens above, you should have stayed in the bedroom and far, far away from him when he looked like this.

Which one of you was the cannibal again? You couldn’t remember.

“Do you no longer find my taste in music amusing, or is there something suddenly bothering you?” He teased, eyes looking over your form. All that you wore was one of his much too oversized shirts. You had told him that you enjoyed to sleep in it because it was comfortably, but the truth was that it swallowed you with his scent and you loved it. You hadn’t even realised that the music was no longer playing.

“I-“ you were lost for words, gawking at him.

“Oh, you see something you like?”

“No- I- you know what, I think I’m gonna just got for a quick jog to, uh, I don’t know- Scotland. Yes, Scotland.”

“Darling, you would never make it out of this room. I wouldn’t let you.”

“Drac,” you huffed, “please stop doing things that make me feel a burning need to mock you because I don’t like your cockiness when you get me back.”

“Well, how is it fair that you get to have your way with me, but I can’t?”

“Dracula you had your way with me before you,” for the last word of your sentence, you brought up your fingers to use as air quotes, “died.”

“And I hadn’t even started.” He smirked, “now, is there something that you wanted?”

“No, you can return to your shower. Maybe try a different song, though, Old Town Road gets old fast.”

“I think I have an even better idea.” His hand that held the door fell and hooked around your waist, pulling you into the room. You gently yelped in surprise as he pulled your chest flush to his. You could feel the water soaking the shirt immediately and you tried to wiggle your way out of his grasp. The door shut behind you, “stop moving or I’ll drop the towel.” You froze.

“Oh, c‘ mon Drac, Barefoot Contessa was about to start.” You pouted.

“You were very clearly more interested in me than in the television. Now, as you can see, I’ve left the water running.”

“Good for you. Your water bill will be high this month.” You retorted.

“Care to join me?”

“Hah, no.”

He dipped his head down to your mark, which had scarred over nicely. Pushing the hair away from that side of your neck, he pressed a kiss. You shuddered, balling your hands into fists. He wasn’t about to win. You couldn’t afford to let him win again. He pressed a second kiss against it, and when you still showed signs of resilience, his tongue flicked out. Sweet Jesus. A blissful and intense tingle spread through your shoulders and down your back. Your knees buckled and you pressed your hands to his firm chest to keep yourself upright.

“Much better.” He hummed, “have I persuaded you, yet?”

“No.” You breathed.

His mouth began to work against your neck, kisses here and there, his tongue occasionally trailing a quick stripe across your skin. If just his kisses like this drove you haywire, what the fuck would you do in much more intimate circumstances? It became apparent quickly that you wouldn’t be able to stand much more of this abuse and-

“Okay fine! But no funny business. We are meant to be going out today.”

“I won’t promise to keep my hands to myself, but I’ll definitely obey your command, my darling.”

You watched him as he used his fingers to bind the towel to his body. The room was filling with steam once more and you were choking on the humidity. Mostly. His eyes glossed over you, a sheen of something over them. His fingers trailed from your waist, down your hips and to the hem of his your shirt.

“How about we dispose of this for the time being?” His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Your heart thundered in your chest. This man. He’d certainly be the death of you - figuratively or quite literally, you weren’t sure.

“Alright.” You whispered. Your eyes locked with his and with a slow, yet swift movement, he pulled the material up and over your head. It landed somewhere but he was otherwise occupied now, looking your body over once more.

“You didn’t even wear underwear to bed?” He raised his eyebrow, “my goodness. You minx.”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “it’s much more freeing.”

He chuckled deeply. A pink tint adorned your face and he knew that you were a little embarrassed to be so bare before him. He hadn’t realised up until this moment when his eyes scanned you that he’d accidentally left a pink blossom on your neck which was beginning to bloom purple. A wicked and smug smile crossed his lips.

“Go and get in,” he whispered the command and you did so, not without trailing your fingers against his torso as you moved past him. He turned, enchanted, taking in the back angles of your body. You truly were a goddess. There was no other explanation that was feasible.

His eyes became greedy, watching the way the glass began to steam once more as hot beads of water began to cascade over you. You sighed at the feeling. Ducking your head under the jet of water, your hair became wet immediately. When you threw your head back with a gasp, Dracula very almost lost all control. The way your hair stuck to you perfectly, strands accentuating the curves of your upper body, water streaming from the ends and washing over every single curve of you.

Your cheeks were now red from the heat of the water and you were tugged backwards suddenly by his hands. Your back became flush with his chest and his lips came down to attack your shoulders. His hands ran against your skin, careful not to touch anywhere he’d know you’d like a little too much. How had he ended up this lucky?

“I didn’t even need a shower today. I had one last night.” You grumbled, but you were savouring his touch.

“You’re keeping me company.” He hummed against your skin.

You turned in his arms, wrapping your own firmly around his neck so that you could stand on your toes with support. You were a little closer his height now. His hands trailed along your back, feeling every inch of skin yet he remained adamant to not touch you where you were beginning to crave it most.

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” You began to press kisses to his collarbones.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to, either, yet here we are.”

He drove you backwards and your back hit the wall, behind where the water was coming from the shower head. The wall was freezing and eased your body where the heat was making it uncomfortably hot. You lowly groaned at the sensation and Dracula began his kisses on your neck, your shoulders, and the first few inches of your chest. Your fingers knitted into his hair, your lips parted slightly and shit, a familiar warmth spread to your gut.

“Drac,” you gasped and he stopped, pressing his body into yours. What kind of game was he playing?

“Yes, [First]?”

“You know, we could totally just...” you trailed off, hoping he’d be able to finish your sentence himself. You bit your lip, anticipating his response.

“Well, we aren’t.” He chuckled lightly, “wasn’t it you that just said no funny business? Look at you now, practically begging for me.”

“You’re the one who started this.” You pouted.

“Actually, you are. Had you not been outside of the bathroom at all, I never would have felt the desire to have you join me. But if you’re going to get greedy and expect more than I’m willing to offer, then I suggest that you go and get yourself ready for our outing.”

“Alright.” You almost pushed past him, stomping out of the shower and plucking up the shirt at you neared the door. If he was going to play games with you, you would finish it. Even if that meant by yourself.

“Oh, and [First],” he called and you snapped your head around to look at him sharply, he was grinning, “don’t do anything that you would prefer me to do. I will know, and there will be consequences.”

~^*^~

An hour later and you were finally ready to leave. You had eaten, and gotten yourself dried and dressed. Due to the intense August heat, you had opted for a sundress that showed off the bottom halves of your legs and exposed your arms and your chest and your back. Dracula liked it very much, but he had put up a fight about you wearing it outside where other men could so freely look at you.

One thing that had genuinely shocked you was Dracula’s newest addition to his résumé - driving. He had surprised you approximately a week ago by picking you up from the gym in a shiny, brand new Jag. Apparently he had felt the need to learn this skill to fit in a little more and to make his way to you when he found out you had gone northward without the papers reporting on a large black beastly hound walking the length of the M1.

He couldn’t have looked more bougie if he tried. His suit, a little more causally worn than usual with the first two buttons undone and exposing his chest just a little, the suit jacket right over the top and open to show no waitcoat like usual. He had opted for some glasses today and had your mouth been open, you’d be drooling all over the centre console.

“Stop looking at me like that, I’m finding it hard to concentrate.” He stated lowly.

“Don’t look so fucking good them.” You crossed your arms and looked ahead instead at the streets of London rushing by.

“I can’t help it. It’s my thing.” You scoffed at his words.

“It is not your thing, you do it on purpose.” You huffed at him.

“I’ve been caught.”

“... why don’t we just pull over for like ten minutes?”

“[First], I am not pulling over.” He told you, “get a grip of yourself, woman.”

He laughed. He was not getting away with toying with you all morning. He had made it his mission when you had woken up to ignite every inch of your skin with his touch, he had hovered his lips over yours, he had done everything in his power to make you feel weak in the knees and you had finally had enough.

Reaching over, your hand came to rest right between his legs and his laughter faded with a soft “ah,” and he couldn’t help the smallest moan that left his lips. His head automatically threw back and he had to will himself to keep his eyes on the road. He spoke your name dangerously. It was a warning to stop. He’d had his fun, it was your turn. You began to slowly and tantalisingly move your hand along his length. He drew in a breath. It had been a very long time since this had occurred and the sudden recollection of the feeling drove him so quickly to the edge of insanity that he thought he would crash the car. A shaky breath left his lips, his eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your smirked proudly. Who knew vampires still worked anatomically? And could still feel the pleasure?

Well, you learnt something new everyday. This was your TIL.

A fire began to burn in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the feeling of your hand. He genuinely wanted to cry. Eyes flickering to the rear view mirror, he made sure that there wasn’t a car behind him and slammed on the breaks. Your body became restrained against the seat belt and you knew to take your hand away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He growled, turning to face you. Fuck, how did anger make him even more attractive than to begin with?

“Well, my boyfriend once told me that his dick would kill me, so yes, yes I do.” His face softened. You had never called each other official names yet. It just hadn’t been discussed.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I know. He’s a right catch. The only problem with him is that he’s spent all morning riling me up and I’ve had nothing to show for it.” You dramatically sighed.

“He sounds like an arsehole.” Dracula mused, playing along.

“He really is. I still love him, though.”

Before Dracula could lean over and crash his lips to yours like he wanted to, a car behind him honked and he was forced to simply smile and gloat over the fact that you had finally confessed that you loved him, too.

~^*^~

The first half of your outing went swimmingly well. Dracula was all smitten, insistent on holding your hand as you wandered around the shops just looking at everything. You were pulling him around like an excitable puppy, into every store to show off some of the greatest things humanity had created since the 1800s.

When it came to around lunchtime, Dracula inquired into your current hunger status, and you had denied his offer to eat. You hadn’t been shopping in so long and you always found it fun to just see what things were on sale.

It was, however, in the midst of the lunchtime slump as most people made their way to the food court that the worst was destined to happen. His voice had called out to you, as Dracula had his back turned towards you. It didn’t look as though you were together considering the space and the fact that you were looking away from each other. Your head snapped over.

“Hey, what’s a pretty thing like you being out alone? Wouldn’t you prefer some company?” You clutched your bag and you heard the click of Dracula’s shoes as he turned to look at the commotion behind him.

“Actually, I’m uh, I’m-“

“Here, I’ll treat you.” His hand came out and grasped your wrist.

“No, really-“

Dracula’s hand suddenly planted over his and you looked over to see a deadly look on his face. If looks could kill. The eyes of the gentleman currently trying to steal you away from him flashed with fear.

“She isn’t interested.” Dracula spoke very clearly, very slowly and made sure to make himself look as tall as possible. You shrunk down a little.

“Come on, man, don’t get involved.” Clearly whoever this man was, was an idiot.

“Don’t get involved?” Dracula scoffed, “some filthy vermin has its hand on something that belongs to me. So I suggest that you remove it.” With some force, he squeezed and you felt the pressure in your arm. It released as Dracula pulled the man’s hand off of you.

“Fuck this.” He grumbled and slumped away as quickly as he could.

Well, that was the trip ruined. Dracula’s mood had soured. Just as you needed his good mood to help you with your shopping, it had very quickly wilted. It wasn’t going to stop you, however, as you tugged him into the first of many clothing stores. Within minutes, he had almost become your personal shopping cart, carrying all of the things that you wanted to try on. His face was gloomy and blue and you must’ve looked a right sight. A tall and handsome man with the hump and a grumpy face, wrapped around the finger of a cheerful and upbeat girl as he carried all of her goods and let her do as she pleased. Quite the sight, indeed.

In the changing rooms, he became the epitome of boyfriend as he perched on the leather chair that he had picked, waiting for you to do whatever you had to do. Every few minutes or so, you’d pull back the curtains to reveal the clothes you had in and he’d grunt in response or make a blunt remark. His sour mood became old quick and you knew that you were going to have to further piss him off just to make him happier again.

So you bought the clothes that you liked and moved on to the next store, deciding to pick a few more revealing items, more form fitting and lower cut. Every time you moved on to a new store, the amount of ridiculous items began to outnumber the clothes that you’d actually wear. It wasn’t until you drew back the curtain and was standing there in a dress made of fishnet that Dracula snapped. He couldn’t believe you’d stand there in public, your body on display with just your underwear protecting your most intimate features. It accentuated your curves so well and he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you so revealed. Especially not some lowlife like the man from earlier.

He almost tore your arm off, storming past the cash register as he threw the money down, and then he ripped off his jacket, placing it around you and warning you to do the buttons up. He didn’t speak a word to you in the car.

Holy shit, you were in trouble.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026

[getfit182]

01/26/2021.

Officially my first day back in classes as a student teacher, and my first day of class is tomorrow. So, today, I have Maroon 5′s Songs About Jane playing in the background. For all of undergrad and now for grad, every first day begins with me playing this album in its entirety. I end the day with blink-182′s untitled/self-titled album. It’s a very weird ritual. Probably the only ritual I follow for first days. Something about both of these albums just settles me. The albums are so familiar, but I feel like I discover something new about a song each time I go through them on the first day of a semester. 

Maybe it is a little childish to say, but school really provides the structure I need to better attain my goals. I go to sleep on time. I eat breakfast. I drink more water. I do more writing. There is a clarity that comes with attending a class and just immersing yourself into the work and text. I’m probably not explaining this very clearly, but I promise I am 100% happier in school. I’m also really looking forward to this next class. It’s very much right up my ally in terms of my research interests!

This semester is another doozy with four jobs, but I’ve planned my schedule to be completely free on Mondays, unless one of the kids needs me. I told myself I wouldn’t work another 60 hour week this semester but... here I am. Can’t help it aha. But! That means that on Mondays, I will be on my bike (and hopefully, doing more extensive walks). 

For the other days, I really need to think about when to fit in the spin bike. My partner, who is a very dedicated morning person, is always up at 5AM, making coffee, reading the news, and then slowly getting ready for work before leaving the apartment at 7:30AM. I am in such awe of that. I’m always asleep until 8AM, mainly because he’s knocked out at 9:30PM and I’m still reading at 11PM. A supposedly bad habit is how sometimes, I just stay in bed until 9, 10AM. That’s two hours gone when I could, ideally, hop on the bike. So I will do my best to get on it in the mornings, and workout with a more stable routine. 

Speaking of the bike, my partner and I had a long conversation about me “hiding” myself when I exercise. I told him that, for some reason, I feel more comfortable exercising when he’s not home (which is a not a feasible schedule to adhere to, since his work is pretty random). We talked about how I don’t mind being stark naked during sex because our sex life empowers me, but having him walk in while I exercise makes me feel kind of ashamed that I weigh 70 pounds more than my partner. He really emphasized that he never means to inflict that thought on me, and I emphasized that he doesn’t; it’s solely me telling myself that. We struck up a sort of deal that he’ll do his best not to walk into the bedroom when I’m on my bike, but I told him that eventually, I’ll get more comfortable with him seeing me be a sweaty mess, and that he shouldn’t limit himself in our home because of my insecurities. Hearing him say that he doesn’t mind that I am heavier than him or that he doesn’t really care if I’m sweaty or dry heaving on the bike really makes me feel a lot better haha. We didn’t have a normal relationship for the first three years, and even though we’ve been living together for over a year now, I didn’t expect this really to be an issue. But turns out it is, so I’m working on it and he’s really just encouraging me to come out of my comfort zone, and I am so thankful.

I’ve done some very good cooking this past week, and hopefully, if I can get myself to a Korean market soon, I want to to make budae-jjigae, or Korean army stew soon. It’s been pretty chilly, and it snowed a little last night, so a stew would be very nice to slurp down.

Anyways, I hope everyone has a very good day. I’m in the mood to keep writing so I might fuck around and come back on here and write again when I finish journaling and thesis writing.