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songbirdstyles · 5 years ago

Text

lola.

summary: a year in the life with professor harry, post graduation - part 2 of when i’m sixty four

pairing: professor!harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, fluff, some angst? pregnancy stuff!

word count: 18.6k

song inspo.: lola - the kinks

The day is going suspiciously well, so far, and it’s making you nervous.

You’d invited both of your families over for dinner and to break the news and you suppose you’d expected it to go about as horribly as post-graduation dinner had - that’s the last time you’d gathered both of your families in the same place, anyway. You and Harry visited Anne and Gemma quite a bit and you’d gone, on your own, to see your mother (wanted to scope out her feelings for your relationship before bringing Harry to see her again - and, luckily, she seems to be warming up to it) but you hadn’t made another attempt to stuff them in the same room together yet.

Until now.

You’d made Harry swear to you that he wouldn’t tell his mum or his sister about the pregnancy until you could get everyone at the apartment to tell them together, and that’s what this is - you can hear them, laughing together in the living room from where you’re seated on the kitchen counter, watching Harry work over the stove. You’d been out there with them for a few minutes, laughing and sharing stories before you’d claimed you should probably go help Harry with dinner and retreated into the kitchen. Hearing them all seem to get along should make you feel better about the entire situation but all you can think about is how terribly everything will crash and burn when you finally tell them.

“Don’t y’think you should be out there with them? Making sure no fights break out, an’ whatnot,” Harry questions, turning to glance at you over his shoulder with one quirked eyebrow. “Like having you in here wit’ me, but …”

You shrug, picking at the seam of your jeans (that are beginning to fit a bit tighter than they usually do.) Both of you know that your excuse of wanting to keep him company while he cooks is absolute bullshit but you’re getting too nervous, sitting on the couch between your father and Gemma. Keep thinking that you’re gonna say the wrong thing, accidentally spill the secret before you’re ready. But you just shake your head at him, folding your hands on your lap. “They sound like they’re doing good. No need to interrupt their bonding, right?”

Harry merely hums, reaching down to turn off the stove and stirring his pasta sauce once more before resting his wooden spoon on top of the pot. “You need t’bond too. Been in here practically the entire time.”

“I’m just nervous,” you confess, voice drowned out by a sudden bout of laughter that you recognize to be your dad’s, coming from the sitting room. “My mum just started cooling down about our relationship - now we need to drop this on her.”

“We’re going to have t’tell her at some point. Better now, ‘cause she’s in a good mood.”

You ponder that, letting out a deep breath. You know you’re not being too great of a host, now, holed up in the kitchen instead of being out there but you can’t bring yourself to leave - “Are you almost done with dinner, then?”

He hums, turning around and leaning against the counter so you can meet his gaze. “Yeah - just the garlic bread, still in the oven. S’store bought, but I’m gonna tell your mum that it’s homemade, so jus’ back me up with that, would you? Want her to be impressed with me.”

You giggle, pushing yourself off of the counter and closing the distance between you two. Your arms loop around his neck and his hands instinctively land on your waist, smoothing over your skin through the fabric of the loose shirt you’re wearing - you’d been too paranoid to wear anything tight, because you swear your stomach is starting to round out, just a bit, now that you’ve reached the 11 week mark. “She’ll ask you for the recipe, you know. What’re you gonna do then?”

“Not sure,” he shrugs, leaning down to land a soft kiss on your lips when you pucker them at him impatiently. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess.”

“Sounds like a faulty plan,” but you can’t help the grin from breaking out across your face. You press another kiss to his lips before breaking away, deciding to make yourself useful and reaching up into the cabinet above your head to grab a stack of plates. “I’ll set the table, if the garlic bread will only take a minute or two.”

Harry nods as you pick up the napkin holder, resting it on top of the plates and rifling through the utensil drawer to pick up the six knives and forks you need. “If you’re leaving, maybe you should talk to our family. They probably think you’re mad at them, or something.”

“I doubt they think I’m mad at them,” you tell him, bumping the drawer shut with your hip when you have all of the utensils, firm in your hand. “Why would we invite them over if I’m mad at them?”

“To make amends?”

“For what? Haven’t seen them in weeks.”

“You’re missing the point,” and then Harry rolls his eyes with a small smile, turning back to the stove. “Jus’ go. The bread’s gonna be done in a minute.”

So you do - pad out of the kitchen with your hands full, make your way to the kitchen table that’s been stripped of the usual flower vase that usually sits in the center. Marie sits on top of the table, as though daring you to remove her, but you do, anyway - pick her up, ignoring her soft, angry meows, and set her on the ground with a soft apology and an order to shoo. Immediately you rest the plates on the counter, setting the forks and knives down beside it before getting to work - out of the corner of your eye you can see everyone gathered on the sofas, chattering loudly, and hearing them all getting along makes you smile, now.

Also out of the corner of your eye you can see your mother standing up from her spot, pressed between your father and the arm of the sofa. Then she’s walking towards you, the sound of her low heels on the hardwood making you turn your head to look at her from where you’d been folding six napkins in half.

“Hey, mum,” you call once she’s close enough to hear you without your dad’s rambunctious laughter infiltrating your ears. “Dinner’s gonna be ready in just a minute, alright?”

“Alright.” And you expect her to turn around, head back to where she’d come from, but instead she reaches for the plates, pulling the first one off the top of the stack and beginning to place it around the table. “I just figured I’d help you set the table - if you don’t mind, of course.”

You shake your head, feeling a smile tugging at your lips as you fold the sixth and final napkin in half, beginning to rest them next to the plates your mum is setting up. “‘Course I don’t mind.”

There’s only another brief second of silence between the two of you, as your mother meticulously adjusts every plate so they’re all perfectly aligned with the napkins you’re lying out, until she pauses, hand resting on the edge of one of your white, porcelain plates, finally saying, “It looks like you and Harry have a nice thing going here.”

You pause where you’re beginning to lay out the forks and knives on top of the napkins, trying to resist the urge to grin (or maybe cry, if you’re being honest) as you nod slowly. “Yeah, we do.”

“The apartment is very nicely decorated. Did you decorate it?”

“Mostly Harry, actually,” you admit to her, which is mostly true, anyway, and you relish in the surprise that lingers, ever so slightly, in her eyes. “He lived here for a while before I moved in, so most stuff is his.”

She hums softly and you can hear the oven ding from the kitchen, then Harry shuffling to take the garlic bread out, and then your mother says, “Well, I’m very glad you’re happy. I know I don’t always show it - but if you love Harry and Harry loves you, I’m fine with it.”

God, you really could cry at that, and you’re not sure if it’s solely because of the hormones like you’d love to believe. You’d talked to your mother more times than you could possibly count since she found out about you and Harry and this is the first time she’s ever admitted she’s alright with your relationship - it only makes sense that you would get emotional.

But you swallow the lump in your throat, giving her a small smile from across the kitchen table. “Thanks, mum. That means a lot,” and she looks so relieved with your response that you wonder if the sudden slight animosity between you two had been affecting her as much as it had been affecting you.

You wonder if she’ll be fine with it once you tell her that Harry knocked you up - but you’ll worry about that later.

Later comes entirely too soon, though, once you’re seated at the dinner table with bowls of pasta and tomato sauce spread out in front of you. Harry sits beside you, arm thrown across the back of your chair as though he can sense how nervous you’re feeling - you’ve barely picked at your pasta and only taken a bite of your garlic bread (which tastes, for the record, absolutely homemade, and not like it was picked up at the store.) Harry’s an excellent cook and what you have eaten, you’ve thoroughly enjoyed, but you feel like if you eat too much you’ll throw it back up.

“This is delicious, Harry,” your dad declares, reaching towards the bowl of pasta for his third helping in the past ten minutes. “You could be a chef, you know.”

Your boyfriend laughs at that, fork full of pasta hovering barely an inch from his mouth. “M’not sure about that - can really only make pasta, to tell you the truth.”

That’s not true, you want to say - Harry cooks nearly all the meals for you two and he’s spectacular at it. Can recreate any recipe first try and make it better than the original - but you can’t bring yourself to interject into the conversation. You feel like you might throw up, to be honest, so you merely flash Harry a tight lipped smile and glance back down at your plate, collecting a piece of pasta onto your fork.

Harry seems much more relaxed than you - diving into a story about how he used to cook when he was a child - which checks out, of course. You had no doubt that Anne and Gemma would be over the moon about the pregnancy, judging from the many dinners and brunches you’d had with them. It was, really, only your mother who would present any sort of issue, and you’d taken to worrying about it much more than Harry had.

“Y/N,” Anne begins from across the table, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts almost immediately, giving her a smile that, you hope, doesn’t put on display just how nervous you’re feeling, “do you like to cook, too?”

You understand her intention - she’d probably assumed, from your almost complete lack of contribution to the conversation, that you’d been feeling left out - but having five pairs of eyes suddenly on you makes you feel significantly more nervous than before, and Harry’s hand lands comfortingly on your shoulder. It takes just a beat too long for you to reply but finally, you reply, “Um - I’m not too good at cooking, honestly. Pretty rubbish at it, actually. I like to bake, though.”

Harry swoops in, then, squeezing your shoulder and continuing, “She’s great at baking! Should try her brownies some time.”

Have you ever made brownies that weren’t from a box?

You swallow thickly, resting your fork on your plate, and then you add, “I’m best at making things that come from boxes.”

There’s a collective laugh at that, and then your mother pipes up with a story from when you were a kid and she’d tried to get you to help her bake cupcakes for a fundraiser - you’re not quite listening, especially when Harry uses his hand on your shoulder to pull you in to him, lips brushing your ear when he whispers, “I think we should tell ‘em now. Right now.”

You pause, shooting him an alarmed look before he continues, “You’re a bloody wreck, babe, m’sorry. Look like you’re gonna have a nervous breakdown. Wouldn’t y’rather get it over with?”

No, you want to say. You’d rather never do it, but the thought of spending the rest of dinner so nervous you can hardly stand to eat seems akin to torture. Whatever reaction the news garners from your families won’t change whether you do it now or in twenty minutes - why put it off?

So you nod, head jerking up and down once, and Harry squeezes your shoulder again, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of your temple. Your hand nearest him lands on his knee, squeezing onto the fabric of the loose jeans he’s wearing.

“Actually,” and Harry’s voice cuts through the mixture of laughter erupting at the table. He waits a minute, for it to calm down - in the meantime, he glances at you again, fingers rubbing into your shoulder, and your hand smooths over his knee. There’s a lot being said, in the brief second your eyes lock while he waits for the attention to land on him - it’ll all be okay, and then no matter what, we have each other and the everpresent I love you that lingers whenever you look at him. And - finally - when there’s only expectant silence at the table, Harry breaks your gaze, turning back to your families with a small, nervous smile. “We have something t’tell you all.”

—

You’d had today marked on your calendar for weeks, it should be said.

As soon as your doctor - Dr. Ferguson, who Kaitlyn, weirdly, had convinced you to go to - had told you that at your next appointment, we’ll likely be able to tell the baby’s gender, you and Harry hadn’t been able to shut about it. You’d facetimed Anne that night, told her that in two weeks time, we’ll know the gender! And you’d texted your parents the same news - even if they weren’t as immediately excited about the pregnancy as Anne and Gemma, the celebratory Bitmoji they’d sent back made you smile, anyway.

You’d left the house twenty minutes early and still managed to nearly be late, getting stuck in traffic and waltzing into the office with less than two minutes to your appointment. Harry had gone to check you in while you’d perched yourself onto one of the waiting room sofas with cushions that were oddly sticky against your palms, and your knees jiggled up and down as your eyes scanned the room you’d become entirely too familiar with - the wall of pamphlets next to the restroom, the framed photos of happy mothers and pregnant women. There’s exactly one other person waiting in the chair across from you, legs curled beneath her and face buried in a magazine, and you feel oddly uncomfortable staring at her but you feel too nervous to do anything else.

“Said it may be a bit of a wait,” Harry murmurs to you when he’s done signing you in - his arms instinctively wrap around your shoulders, and you rest your head on his with a deep breath. “Somethin’ about her last patient runnin’ late, or something. So - that's good”

You nod, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you lean into your boyfriend. You’re not sure if he’s feeling half as nervous as you are but something about the way he keeps drumming his hand on his thigh, humming softly beneath his breath, convinces you that he might be. So - to break the tension, because there’s something truly terrible about seeing Harry nervous when you’re usually the worrier - you ask, voice hardly above a whisper (out of courtesy for the woman across from you,) “What do you think it’ll be?”

“A boy,” Harry whispers back with not a moment of hesitation, and you furrow your eyebrows at him. “What? I reckon we’re gonna have a little Harry Jr. in there,” and he pats your stomach for good measure.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him, playfully swatting his hand away from you. “I’m almost positive it’s a girl - isn’t there a maternal instinct, for these kinds of things?”

“There’s a paternal instinct too, you know.”

“I don’t think so.” And then you pause, staring up at the smooth white ceiling above you with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “And if it is a boy, I’m putting my foot down on Harry Jr.”

Harry huffs playfully, and there’s a pause between you two before he says, “Should we bet on it?”

You give the words a moment to sink in, and then push yourself off of him, glaring at him and trying (and failing, naturally) to hide the smile that threatens to tug up your lips. “I’m not betting money on the gender of our baby - that’s terrible, professor, really.”

“I never said money,” he interjects, crossing his arms over his chest with one side eye glance at the woman across from, still hunched over the magazine she’s reading. “If he’s a boy, I get a blowjob.”

Your cheeks burn immediately and you raise your hand up, swatting his shoulder with an apologetic glance to the lady across from you, who’s looking up from her magazine with an absolutely affronted look. “Harry!”

But he merely continues on as if he’d been talking about the weather. “And if he’s a girl - well, what do you want if you win?”

Where he was rather blasé about discussing your sex life in front of a poor stranger, you can’t bring yourself to tell him exactly what you’d want if you’re right - so you shrug, focus your eyes on tugging at a loose thread in his sweater. You’d made him change out of the t-shirt he’d been wearing and change into this thick sweater Anne had given him for Christmas - it was December, after all, and he’s terrible when he’s sick. “Well - um - I want you to do the laundry for a month.”

He raises his eyebrow, staring at you with a slightly amused smile, and then questions, “That’s it?”

You can feel your cheeks burning up even more as you continue to pluck at Harry’s sweater. “And - you can’t complain when I wear your clothes.”

“I don’t complain, baby, you know I love when you -”

“And,” you continue, flicking him in the forehead to cut him off. “There’s something else that I won’t say here, because we’re in public, but I’ll tell you in the car.”

Harry raises his eyebrows again and you can’t resist the urge to laugh, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder for a moment to regain whatever semblance of composure you could scrap together. His fingers tug at the ends of your hair as you pull your head back up to look at him, and when your eyes have met he says, “Well, that’s actually quite the long list of things to do if it’s a girl, so I’m changing mine to three -”

Whatever he was going to say (and you had a pretty good guess) is cut off immediately at the sound of one of the nurses calling your name, and your eyes widen with an air of slight nervousness before you both stand - smile at the nurse and follow her down the hall to the exam room that you’ve come to know entirely too well, even if you’re not too far into your pregnancy.

When the nurse leaves the exam room you clamber onto the table, feet knocking into each other you lie back. Harry settles into one of the chairs beside you, pointedly pulling it closer so he can rest his chin on the table. “Are y’going t’tell me the third thing you want if you’re right - which you’re not?”

You merely roll your eyes, turning your head so you can look at him. “Rather like sitting on your face - guess I’ll opt for that, before I get so big I’ll suffocate you if I try.”

He frowns at that, pressing a kiss to your hand where he’s got your fingers intertwined with his. “M’a big boy, you know. I’ll always let you sit on m’face - think I love it more than you do.”

You know he’s wrong but you just press your palm to his cheek, letting him rest his head into your hand before saying, “Don’t think you’re gonna be singing that tune when I’m the size of a whale.”

“Are you kidding?” you’re not, clearly, and he scoffs as if he’s offended by the mere concept of it. “I’ll be singing it until the day I die. I’ll let you sit on my face every single day, jus’ to prove it to you. Don’t laugh - I’m being serious!”

But you can’t maintain any sort of serious composure for more than a moment without grinning, so you rest your head back and gaze up at the ceiling while Harry continues to fuss about how much of a disgrace it is - that you’d ever dream of yourself being too big to sit on his face, but you opt to merely block him out, feeling your own worries starting to swell back up in your mind now that you’re not focused on talking to him. You don’t care, truthfully, if your baby is a boy or a girl. You’d be just as happy with either but for as long as you’d known you were pregnant, you’d sworn up and down that it’s a girl. Blamed it on your maternal instinct and all that, because you simply knew you were having a daughter.

If you’re wrong, does that mean you have no maternal instincts? Are you going to be a bad mother?

The door to the exam room opens again before you can focus too much on it, and Harry’s ranting about you sitting on his face ends so abruptly you could swear he’d never even opened his mouth. Dr. Ferguson gives you both wide smiles, asks the general questions - how’s it going? How’s baby? How’s mom? And you squeeze Harry’s hand when she finally settles beside you, turning the ultrasound machine on, and you reach down to tug your sweater up.

“Generally, 15 weeks is where we can determine the baby’s gender - assuming they’re in the right position to check,” Dr. Ferguson tells you, using the probe to spread the cold gel on top of your stomach. Your fingertips drum against the back of Harry’s palm as she asks, “Do you guys think you want to know the gender of the baby?”

You nod furiously as Harry proclaims, “Yes - definitely. Been talking about it for weeks, haven’t we?” And - because he tends to ramble a bit when he’s nervous - he continues, “I think s’a boy - she reckons it’s a girl. We’ve got a bet going, about it, too -” and that’s where you squeeze his hand and shoot him a glare to shut the hell up.

The doctor merely chuckles at the pair of you, raising a manicured nail to point at the ultrasound screen as she moves the probe closer to your lower tummy. “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Styles - I think you’ve lost the bet.”

There’s a pause after that, the both of you letting the words settle in.

If he lost the bet - then that means -

“It’s a girl?”

Harry’s words come out in barely a breath, and you can feel the familiar prickling in the back of your eyes as you squeeze Harry’s hand.

“You two are having a girl,” Dr. Ferguson confirms, a smile spreading across her face as she watches the two of you - your eyes well up with tears as you turn to look at Harry, his mouth dropped open and upturned ever so slightly in a wide grin. Your eyes meet and you swallow thickly, not bothering to try and hide the smile that graces your features as he stands up, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. Neither of you pay much mind to the doctor as she murmurs, “I’ll go and get your prints,” and slips from the room, but you’re beyond thankful - you need a moment with him, for this.

As soon as the door shuts you let the tears drip down your cheeks, burying your face in Harry’s sweater and wrapping your arms around his torso with a soft hiccup. His voice is soft when he mutters, “Can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby girl - God, you were right.”

Your cold hands slide up his sweater, smoothing up his warm back, and you can feel him jump at the contrast of temperatures - “I knew it,” you can’t help but declare quietly, voice crackling wetly as you sniffle. “Our little girl. I knew it.”

He chuckles, which is mostly a soft exhale into your hair. “Can’t believe you’re turning this into a told you so moment.”

“Only saying that ‘cause you lost.”

There’s no response from your boyfriend for a moment - mostly because he knows you’re right - just his arms tightening around you. “Oddly enough, I don’t quite think I mind losing.” The sentiment is sweet and you pull back, leaning up to press a lingering kiss to the underside of his jaw, and you almost miss the mischievous smile spread across his face, even if the way he’s rubbing your back is ultra innocent. “I get a daughter and my ultra hot girlfriend is sitting on m’face tonight - what more could I ask for?” And, for that, you smack his shoulder again, laughing through the joyful tears blurring your vision.

—

“Are you honestly mad at me right now?”

You huff, sinking lower into the couch at Harry’s mocking tone. Truthfully - though you wouldn’t admit it to him - you are feeling just a bit cross, as you stare at the ten cards in your hands that are nowhere close to being a run of seven. “No,” you tell him, shorter than you’d anticipated. “But you’re three phases ahead of me, and I feel like you’re rubbing it in.”

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, resting his elbows on the coffee table across from you. You’d started out both sitting on the couch, but then you swore you caught him peeking at your cards and banished him to the other side of the coffee table, on the ground, no matter how many times he promised he was just changing the music blaring from his phone. (Which, for the record, you didn’t believe, because he was a firm believer in letting the music play out and never changing it.) “Baby, m’not rubbing it in. Jus’ playing the game.”

“You keep skipping me,” you mumble, barely audible over Ring of Fire coming from his phone on top of the table.

“S’how you play the game. So if you happen to go out, m’not stuck with 15 extra points.”

“You know I’m never going to go out, right?” And just to prove your point, you reach in to grab a card from the deck, rolling your eyes when you see it. It’s another three, your fourth one, and you rest it on top of the discard pile with a pointed glare at Harry.

He merely shakes his head, reaching in to take a card. “I don’ even know why you wanna play Phase 10 all the time, ‘cause you always get mad at me when we do.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, a frown tugging the corners of your lips downwards. “That’s not true! I don’t get mad at you. Just get irritated, because you’re good at it, and you always beat me.” There’s a pause while you wait for Harry to discard a card, and when you look up at him, he’s gazing at you with a slightly guilty look in his eyes. “You’ve got to discard a card, Har.”

And then, instead of putting a card down on the discard pile, he lays down his cards on the table - a set of sevens and a set of tens. Your shoulders slump as you stare at his completed phase and then at the cards in your hand, still a jumbled mix of numbers with absolutely no hope of becoming a run anytime soon.

“M’sorry for this, honey,” Harry tells you, voice faux sweet, and you look back up just in time to catch him placing his skip down on the discard pile, making it his turn again. And, just as you open your mouth to say something, he reaches for the deck and pulls a card. You watch, feeling heat creep up your neck, as Harry slaps a wild card down next to his set of sevens and then presses his final card - a two - into the discard pile - fuck.

“Jesus fuck,” you exclaim, tossing your cards down onto the coffee table. Harry’s staring at you with a smug, satisfied grin on his face, and you could reach over and slap it right off. “How?”

“S’just luck,” he tells you, as if he’s the master at it, as he reaches over to collect your cards off the table. “You’ll get it next time, alright? S’just a game, it’s fine.”

“It’s easy for you to say.” You cross your arms over your chest as Harry mouths the point values of your cards, flicking through your stack. “Mr. ‘I’ve-Gone-Out-Every-Single-Time.’”

He snorts at that, grabbing all of the cards strewn about the coffee table and shuffling them together. “You had two skips, y’know. Why didn’t you skip me? 15 points each.”

“Because I felt bad,” you tell him, frown deepening at the way he barks out a laugh. “Why’re you laughing? Was just trying to be nice.”

Beside Harry, resting on the carpet, is the stray piece of notebook paper he has to add up your scores with each round, and you sigh, reaching for the stack of cards so you can begin shuffling them. “The point of the game isn’t to be nice, baby. You’ve gotta play your skips - that’s why you’re 325 points behind me.”

You can’t put your finger on why you’re getting so worked up over this. It is just a game and you know that but you’ve always been competitive. You’d been rather proud of how, nearly 21 weeks into your pregnancy, mood swings hadn’t been hitting you as hard as you’d expected - but, God, they’re getting you now. And Harry is four phases ahead of you now, and what’s worse than being beaten is that it is just luck, which means yours is being really shitty right now, and you’re tired of it.

You focus your eyes towards your lap where you’re working on shuffling the deck as the song segues to Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, just a bit too loud for you to handle. “I just wanted to be nice,” you repeat, cringing at the voice crack that cuts through your sentence. From the corner of your eye you can see Harry’s head snap up as he hears it, his brows furrowed. “God, I hate this game.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then Harry’s pushing himself up off the floor, coming to sit beside you on the couch. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you to him (as close as he can get, with your rounded tummy between you both) as his lips land on the top of your head, and, as nice as he’s being, you can feel how his lips are turned up into a grin. “Are you going to cry?”

“No,” you insist, but the frustrated tears prickling the back of your eyes are on its way to proving you otherwise as you lean your head into his shoulder.

Harry’s hand smooths up and down your back soothingly as you sniffle into his shoulder pathetically. “Sorry for teasing you,” he murmurs, barely heard against the music, and you nod slowly. “You’re jus’ being nice, and that’s very sweet, even if it goes against the point of the game -” and, for that, you raise your hand up and land it against his shoulder with a firm slap, and he laughs - “but I’m sorry, really.”

You press your cheek to his shoulder, leaning in to press a small kiss to the side of his neck. “It’s just hormones, I reckon. Didn’t mean to get so upset.”

“Should have a word wi’ the little one,” Harry murmurs, sliding his hand around from your back to your stomach. The second he’d started to notice your stomach growing he’d become obsessed with feeling it, which you suppose you should have been expecting all along, really. “Tell her not to make mommy so sad, right?” You exhale a soft giggle at that, and he hums contentedly. “But I guess s’my fault too, getting all the good cards.”

You lift your head up, pulling away slightly so you can look into Harry’s slightly amused eyes, and he’s still smiling softly. “Awfully rude of you to be so good at Phase 10,” you tell him, pouting dramatically as you gaze at him through your watery lashes. You’re already feeling quite a bit calmed down and also fairly silly for getting so upset about something so trivial, but what’s done is done, you suppose.

He nods, and you can see the laugh he’s struggling to conceal as he tries to keep up his serious facade. “It is rude of me,” Harry agrees. “I can be a real asshole sometimes.”

“A real asshole.”

“Should probably make that up to you, right? But how will you ever forgive me?”

You pause, pretending to think as you gnaw at your bottom lip, eyes darting around the apartment as if searching for ideas. “Dunno. You’re really gonna have to work for it, professor.”

The instant effect the name has on him never fails to amuse you as his gaze darkens - hardly noticeable to anyone who doesn’t know him as well as you, but you can read him like a book. Harry’s thumb swipes up to wipe at the tears, still brimming in your lower lash line, as he says, “Lay back f’me, then.”

You grin as Harry unwinds his arms from around you, shifting backwards until you lie across the sofa, instinctively throwing your legs across his lap, just to watch the way he playfully rolls his eyes. His hands smooth up and down your calves, fingertips drumming against your skin, and you push yourself onto your elbows. Wiggle your feet at him, and Harry smiles at you. “Don’t think you’re far enough along to need foot massages.”

“First, I absolutely am, and second, I don’t need them,” you agree, “but I want them.”

“Another time,” he promises, shifting off the couch so he’s on his knees beside it. One soft kiss lands at your ankle and it sends shivers through your body as you watch him, shifting so he’s positioned between your thighs. Harry leads a trail of kisses up your legs, hands following behind his mouth, massaging up your legs until he reaches the soft skin of your thigh.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him, lips attaching to your inner thigh, suckling in a love bite. He loves leaving marks in places only he sees - your ass, namely, and your thighs and your boobs and everywhere else that’s reserved for him. In summer it becomes a problem, when you have to don swimsuits and shorts to bear the heat, but it’s January, now, so you let him go wild with his hickeys.

“Harry,” you groan, reaching down to curl your fingers into his hair. He looks up at you with a bemused look in his eyes, tongue lapping over the mark he’d left on your thigh. “Don’t tease me.”

He chuckles breathily, blowing softly on your wettened skin, and you whimper quietly. “M’not teasing,” Harry assures you, hands working up your thighs until he reaches the hem of your panties, fingers hooking into them to begin pulling them down your legs. “Jus’ taking my time.”

You lift your hips up so he can discard the offending material, tugging them off of your ankles and tossing them onto the coffee table, right on top of the abandoned Phase 10 cards. Fingernails scratch against Harry’s scalp, twirling his curls around your fingers, and you can see the blissful smile that briefly graces his features before he returns to the matter at hand. He grips the bottom of the oversized shirt you’re wearing, pulling it up around your waist, and then he mumbles, “Bloody hell, s’that my shirt?”

You laugh, the noise soft and barely perceptible over the horns in Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You. What you want to say is that, truthfully, his large shirts are one of the few that fit your stomach, so you opt for them most times - but Harry isn’t looking for a response. He just grabs your wrist, drags it to your waist where the shirt is bunched up, and you take the hint to grab onto the material, pulling it up over your stomach. Make sure he has enough room to work, without it getting in the way.

“God,” he mutters, grabbing your thigh to hoist it up, putting your glistening pussy on display for him. “You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” You can feel emotions bubbling in your chest with just the small compliment, and further as he breathes, “Not sure how I got so lucky. M’fucking obsessed with you.”

You’re beyond thankful that he doesn’t look up into your eyes again, because you’re not sure that he’d ever let you live this down - your eyes, filled with tears about to trickle down your cheek while he’s inches from your cunt. But he merely leans in, presses a soft kiss to your clit, and you’re too distracted by the sudden jolt of pleasure to think about the moisture building up in your eyes.

You moan at the same time Harry does, his tongue licking up between your folds. His noise rolls through your body and you toss your head back, hitting against the arm of the sofa with a long whine, cunt clenching around nothing as he laps at you. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you slump against the couch, not bothering to try and hold yourself up to see what he’s doing to you.

But - well, you should’ve remembered that Harry is a stickler for eye contact, and within moments of your gaze being torn from where he’s working at you, he stops. Pulls away so the only place you can feel him is his hand on your thigh, holding you up, and you push yourself up again to glare at him. “No teasing, Harry, please -”

“Y’gotta look at me,” Harry tells you, raising his eyebrows. “Come on, baby. Wanna see your pretty face - yeah, that’s a good girl.”

A soft moan escapes your throat at the pet name, and you focus your attention on not dropping your gaze from Harry’s head between your thighs. He takes a second to make sure your eyes are firmly on him, and then you’re groaning for fuck’s sake, professor, do something, and he’s back to it. His hand that’s not maintaining grip on your thigh joins his tongue at your pussy, spreading your lips apart to give him easier access to exactly where you need him. You watch as his tongue flexes, sliding into your dripping hole, fingers working at your clit.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasp, walls fluttering around Harry’s tongue. Your clit is pulsing with the pressure of his finger, rubbing circles into the sensitive nub, and with your eyes focused on him you can catch exactly the way his lips upturn into a cocky smirk. He’s the only one who can make you fall apart like this and he knows it, and it should bother you but it only turns you on more. “God, Har, keep doing that, please.”

Harry hums softly, “M’not planning on stopping,” as his tongue dips in and out of your cunt, lapping up every last drop of your arousal lingering on your folds. “Tell me how good it feels, baby. C’mon, wanna hear how much you love it.”

What a dick, you think as you stare down at him. Harry’s fingers slide down from your clit to your hole, replacing his tongue, pumping in and out of you. The first curl of his digits brushes against that hidden spot inside of you and your hips roll forward into his hand as his lips wrap around your clit, tongue flicking firstly against it before he hollows his cheeks out and sucks. “Oh - god, Harry! Feels so good, love it so much -”

Your eyes meet his again and he raises his eyebrows, silently egging you on, and you continue, voice high pitched and breathy as you cry, “Please, make me feel good, please!”

“That’s m’girl,” Harry grunts, fingers digging into your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave marks, and then his face is sinking back into your folds - his tongue licks up your folds, nose nudging your clit, and you collapse back against the couch. If he was focused on watching you surely he would see how you’ve abandoned the eye contact but he’s paying attention solely to the pleasure he’s giving you. His tongue flattens as he licks up your folds, two fingers still pumping in and out of your heat so fast and hard you can hear the sounds of your wetness. “Taste so fucking good.”

His voice is muffled against your pussy and you lower your gaze back down to him, chest heaving as your grip tightens both on his hair and the fabric of your shirt, still hiked around your waist. Your fingernails dig into his scalp so hard that you know you’re leaving small, crescent shaped indents into the soft skin of his head but it never seems to bother him - you can hear him whine into your cunt, proving your point.

The hand on your thigh drops and your leg falls over his shoulder - it, instead, sneaks up your stomach and into the bunched up material of your shirt, palm resting overtop of your tits through the sports bra you’re wearing, the one with cherries on it, and his hand squeezes around the mound of flesh just as his teeth graze your clit. Both sensations have you tossing your head back with a sob and Harry pulls away briefly, strands of saliva connecting him to your core, as if begging him to return to where he’d been working at.

You love seeing him like this - nearly unhinged in his quest to get you off, eyes lust blown and pupils so wide they’ve overtaken all the green in his orbs. Harry is so desperate to make you feel good and you can see it in his eyes, as he presses a kiss to the top of your mound before returning his tongue to your clit.

Your pussy is clenching relentlessly around his fingers, hips bucking up into him at a staccato rhythm - you’re going to cum, you’re right there, and he knows it. Harry’s tongue swirls around your clit again and again as his fingers curl into you, hitting the perfect spot inside of you over and over until all of your muscles tense, your eyes roll back, and -

“Fuck, yes,” Harry moans, pulling his head back to watch you come undone beneath him, body spasming with the force of your orgasm. His fingers still slowly thrust in and out of you, forcing your orgasm onwards until you’re reaching down, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from your cunt. “Doin’ so good f’me, yeah.”

You can hardly breathe once you’re finally coming down, gasping for air as Harry rests his cheek to your inner thigh, fingertips dancing up and down your hips. Your clit is throbbing with the intensity of it all and your body feels weak, like you couldn’t move even if you tried, and Harry’s face looks just as self satisfied as you’d expected.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, loosening your grip on Harry’s hair, smoothing your fingers over the skin you’d been assaulting. “Jesus, fuck, you’re good at that.”

Harry chuckles, then, pressing one wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before rising up from his spot, kneeling on the ground, to sit back on the sofa. He grabs the material of your shirt, tugging it back down to cover your body. “Did I make it up to you?” And, when your brows furrow ever so slightly in confusion, he says, “‘Cause I beat you in Phase 10.”

You grin, reaching out for Harry’s hand so you can push yourself to sit up, leaning against the arm of the sofa. His thumb smooths over the back of your palm, watching you with a look of pure adoration in his eyes, and you’re sure yours look much the same. “I guess so,” you shrug, working on the act of faux nonchalance, even if you know he doesn’t believe it.

“Well, that’s good,” he proclaims, leaning forward to rest his body between your legs, pressing a kiss to your lips softly. “Hope I get t’fuck you now. Can hardly wait - was gonna cum in m’pants, watching you get off.”

His words make your stomach flip and your clit pulse, and you want nothing more than to pull him down to you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow. But you cross your arms over your chest, staring into his overly confident eyes as you decide, “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you confirm, relishing in the way Harry’s shoulders droop, how his eyebrows crease in confusion. You shift away from him, swinging your legs over the edge of the sofa so you can focus back on the Phase 10 cards, still set up on the coffee table. “If you win your next phase, I’ll let you fuck me, to make up for you being rude again.”

There’s silence between you two as Harry stares at you, mouth parted in shock, looking positively bewildered until he asks, “Are you serious?”

You nod.

“What happens if you win?”

You both know you won’t win - you’ve been on the same phase while Harry has gone through four - but you pretend to think, already reaching down to the table for the stack of cards. You brush your panties off of them, letting them fall to the floor. “If I win, I’ll let you fuck me, ‘cause I lost.”

Harry nods slowly, and then says, “So I’ll fuck you either way?”

“Well, yeah,” and then you resume shuffling the deck. “But I just like making you wait.”

—

You have to say - you think you’re getting pretty good at grading essays.

Through your entire relationship you’ve loved to help Harry grade stuff, and it’s always been easy for you, because you’ve completed every essay and every exam and done great on all of them (with the exception of 1984, so Harry pointedly does not let you grade those.) And it’s fun, too, turning up music and sitting at the kitchen table, humming along to the tunes and occasionally asking the professor what he thinks about a certain word, or if the flow of a certain sentence sounds too wonky to ignore.

Sometimes, though - sometimes, it’s not too fun.

Harry had been putting off on grading the essays he’d assigned on The Fountainhead, which is, if you recall, the only essay you’d written for his class that made you consider dropping out, with how nitpicky the rubric was. Every year it was a pain for Harry to grade, so you suppose it only figures that he’d put off grading them as soon as possible - which is how you ended up here. There are stacks and stacks of essays spread across the kitchen table that have to be graded before Monday, and one glance at the clock on the wall behind you shows that it’s already nearly 11:30 on Saturday night - which means you and Harry have been grading for just about four hours since your last break to eat reheated pizza from the night prior.

“Do you think it’s time to go to bed?” you question, voice soft and raspy, cutting through the comfortable silence that’s been hovering between the two of you since Harry turned off the music an hour ago, murmuring that it was giving him a headache. “It’s almost midnight, professor. And it’s not good to work yourself too hard.”

He exhales softly, flipping a page in the essay he’s working at that’s getting marked up so much with red ink that the paper hardly even looks white anymore. “Y’can go to bed if you’d like,” he tells you, which is exactly what you’d expected him to say but it still makes you sigh dramatically. “What’re you huffin’ at? I’ll do a few more, an’ come to bed in a little bit.”

You shake your head, placing the essay you’d just graded on top of the finished pile and reaching for a fresh one. You click your pen a few times, squinting at the name printed on top just to check if you recognize it (which you don’t) before getting to work grading it. “One more, alright? And then bed, ‘cause otherwise you’re just gonna be cranky tomorrow.”

“M’never cranky, baby.”

“You are when you go to bed at midnight and then wake up at 7 to grade,” you murmur, uncapping your pen to scribble a comment in the margins of Daniel Garcia’s essay and ignoring the dramatic, scandalized gasp that your boyfriend lets out. “Just finish up that one, and I’ll do this, and then we’re going to bed.”

Harry’s silent for a second and you know that you’ve won - you won’t stop until you do, anyway, so it’s best that he gives in now. “When did you start wearing the pants in the relationship, m’dear?” he questions, giving you a cheeky smile, and you roll your eyes.

“Since you put a baby in me,” you reply, drawing a line through an unnecessary sentence in Daniel’s paper, and then you pat your stomach as if to remind him. “But long before that too, I think.”

“In the bedroom, though -”

“Don’t give yourself a boner, Har, it’s almost midnight.”

He laughs at that, bending back over the essay he’s grading with a grin still present on his lips. You watch as he returns to writing a note on the paper and you look back down at Daniel’s, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth to conceal your smile as your eyes scan over the last paragraph of the first page before flipping it to the next one.

The next five minutes passes in the same vein, Harry occasionally asking for your input on the essay he’s working on, and you do the same. The end of your pen drags along the paper, tracing the Times New Roman font that’s beginning to look entirely too small now that your eyelids are beginning to droop with sleepiness overtaking your bones - the sleepiness that’s only heightened when Harry finally tosses his overly marked essay into the finished pile and leans back in his chair with an almost mocking grin when you meet his eyes.

“M’not sure I’ve ever graded such a horrible essay in my life,” he announces to you, pushing his chair back to stand up, arms stretched over his head. “Got a bloody 26.”

Your eyes glaze over the essay sitting on top of the finished pile, taking in the cover page that’s doused in Harry’s small, scrawled handwriting. Then you glance back down at Daniel’s essay, hardly marked up at all, and shrug. “He’s doing alright. Only taken off 5 points for some grammar issues.”

Harry leans over the table to peek at what you’re doing, and you lean back so he can scan the words on the page. “Might have the highest grade in the class, then.”

“Higher than mine?”

“‘Course not,” and he scoffs, as if the suggestion that any student’s essay could be better than yours was absolutely preposterous. “D’you want me to stay in here with you?’

You furrow your eyebrows as you look up at him, and then you shake your head. “Go to bed, professor. I’ll be done in a few minutes - almost on the last page, see?” And you spread the pages apart to prove it to him.

He nods, and then leans down to press a quiet kiss to your nose before padding down the hall to the bedroom - gives you a departing whisper yell to scream if y’need him - well, maybe don’t, ‘cause we do have neighbors, and then you’re left alone, hunched over Daniel Garcia’s essay. There’s not much work to be done as you read the last paragraph on the second-to-last page - you merely write out a suggestion in the margins before setting your pen down beside you and flipping to the next page.

You take a moment to yawn, stretching your arms high above your head as you squeeze your eyes shut. God, you are tired. From down the hall you can hear the sink turn on and you smile, briefly, thinking of Harry brushing his teeth with the pink princess toothbrush you’d bought him as a joke, and now he refuses to use any other one. Always makes you laugh when you see him using it, ignoring the other clean, adult ones right in the holder beside the sink.

Sooner you finish Daniel’s essay, the sooner you can catch him using it.

It’s motivation enough, and you open your eyes to begin on the last page of the paper you’d been working on for the last ten minutes. Immediately you notice, right in the middle of the final page, is a neon pink sticky note that you hadn’t noticed previously - you peel it off the paper and bring it up to your eyes, squinting to read the words written in dark black pen, a contrast against the bright color.

Mr. Styles -

Thank you for reviewing my essay! I made some of the changes you suggested, so I hope it’s better than it was before.

I hope you’re having a good semester, and congratulations on the pregnancy!

- Daniel

You smile as you read it - whatever critiques Harry had suggested had clearly worked out, as Daniel’s essay was easily the best you’d graded all day. It’s only when you reach the last few words that you bring it closer to your face, making sure you’re reading it correctly - congratulations on the pregnancy?

“Har?” you call, voice soft but still loud enough to reach him across your apartment. You can hear shuffling in the bathroom and then footsteps on the hardwood, growing in volume until Harry’s standing in the doorway of the hall, princess toothbrush in his mouth and his eyes wide with concern. You give him a smile, to assure him you’re fine, and you can hear his soft sigh in relief. “Daniel left you a note.”

You hold it up for him to inspect, and he closes the distance between you two to bend down, eyes narrowing as he reads Daniel’s loopy writing. “Aw - s’sweet,” he says, voice strained with the toothpaste in (and dripping out of) his mouth, and you can sense he’s confused as to why you called him to read it.

“I didn’t know you told your students about the baby,” you say, mainly to his back as he darts down the hall to the bathroom, and you can hear him spitting into the sink before he walks back.

“Yeah - I did.” Harry’s eyebrows crease in confusion as he leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and mouth free of all toothpaste and brush. “Was I not s’posed to?”

No - that’s not what you’d meant at all. Truth be told, it made your heart absolutely swell to imagine Harry telling his students about you and the baby, and you’re getting quite embarrassed with how easily you’re crying lately but you can feel tears in the back of your eyes already. You swallow, pushing yourself up from your chair to pad closer to him, and his hands fall to the sides of your protruding tummy once you’re close enough. “No - I’m not mad. The opposite, really - what did you tell them?”

You know, now, that he can sense exactly how you’re feeling about it. His hands smooth over your tummy through your sleepshirt, and you lean in to rest your head to his shoulder. “Just told ‘em that my girlfriend’s havin’ my baby, and that I’m very happy about it. Might’ve told ‘em that a few times, though.”

“How many times do you consider to be a few?” you question, bringing your head back up to look at him, and the sheepish look on his face tells you exactly what you’d expected. “Do you talk your class’s ear off every day about it?”

“Not every day,” he insists, leaning his head back against the doorway, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “Not every day! Really. But m’students ask about it, and y’know I can’t help myself, sometimes.”

You do know exactly what he’s talking about, and your cheeks are beginning to hurt with how hard you’re smiling. His hands slide up your chest and neck until he reaches your cheeks, pulling your face up so you’re staring at him, cheeks squished together. There’s still a smudge of toothpaste in the corner of his mouth and you bring your thumb up to wipe at it before mumbling, voice slightly incomprehensible due to his hands on your face, “That - that makes me really happy, Harry.”

His eyes soften and you’re expecting him to drop his hands back down to your side, but he merely pushes your cheeks further in and leans down to land a kiss to your lips. “Why wouldn’t I talk abou’ you? Most important thing in my life, you are.”

You bring your hand up to swat at his wrists so your face goes back to its normal shape, and he reluctantly complies. “It’s just sweet. And I’m really tired right now, so I might cry if I think about it for too long, but -”

Harry tosses his head back with a laugh at that, and you watch him with unsaid tears shining in your eyes. Sometimes, you’re not quite sure how or why you got so lucky - but as he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers to pull you down the hall towards your bedroom, you decide you’ll never stop appreciating it for the rest of your life.

—

You’d known from the very beginning of the night that Harry wasn’t fit to go out, and you know you’ll hold that over his head later. A little I told you so to make up for the way your knees are aching, pressed to the cold black tile, and you know he’ll roll his eyes, maybe snip back that you weren’t complaining with m’dick down your throat, baby. But, for now, you merely look up at him with a smug glint in your eyes, and, in response, his grip on your hair tightens.

The second you’d stepped out of your bedroom at the apartment, adding another smooth layer of rouge to your bottom lip, you’d known, just from the look he gave you, sitting on the couch. Tonight was going to be that sort of night, where Harry walked with his hand shoved in his pocket to try and make his half hard boner less obvious through the entirety of dinner, assuring you over and over that he was fine to go out. You’d almost believed him until he’d parked the car in a parking garage right outside of the restaurant and begged you for just a quickie in the backseat before you went in - but you’d refused.

You’d waited for date night for - well, two weeks, but it felt entirely too long. And you hadn’t spent so long getting ready, trying on all of your dresses before finally finding one that made your 30 week belly look flattering, to have him ruin it in the backseat.

You could be quite strong willed when you wanted to, and most times you didn’t. It always shocked Harry, the moments you decided to use it.

“Can I try that, Har?” Your voice is saccharine sweet as you look up at your boyfriend with a smile, taking note of the way his jaw is set as he pokes at his gnocchi. His eyes are stone cold and if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would guess that he’s angry - but the way his ankle is locked with yours beneath the table, heel brushing against his ankle, assures you that he’s not. “Looks delicious.”

You’re already reaching over with your fork to Harry’s plate before he can respond, taking a piece of the thick pasta and bringing it back over to your plate. You take your time chewing it, admiring your boyfriend’s features, illuminated in the candlelight - he’s always gorgeous, like a statue carved from stone, but especially so when you know he’s so turned on he can hardly function.

And you suppose you’re to blame for that. It isn’t as though you haven’t been torturing him the entire dinner, lifting your foot up to drag up his calf, pulling his dress pants up, even going so far as to brush it against his thigh, though you’ll blame it on the thick white tablecloth able to disguise every action. Every single reaction he gave you felt like adding gasoline to a fire, and you were loving it.

“That’s really good,” you tell him, resting your fork on your plate and grabbing your slice of margherita pizza. “The sauce is good, too. Thick and creamy - you know.”

Harry shifts in his seat, and you tighten your hold around his ankle, sliding forward in your seat just a tad. He doesn’t respond for a moment, and then he leans over across the table, loose fabric of his pink button up falling dangerously close to his pasta, and says, “You’re being mean.”

You can’t help the cocky grin that tugs at your lips as you lean back in your seat, increasing the distance between you once more. “How am I being mean? Just trying to enjoy dinner with you - once the baby gets here, who knows how many more we’ll have for a while.”

It’s getting more difficult by the minute to disguise your own arousal, but you try to, anyway. It isn’t nearly as fun to tease Harry when he knows you’re just as turned on as he is, so you’ll hide it for as long as you can.

“S’difficult to appreciate our last date night when I’m so fuckin’ turned on - I can’t even eat my gnocchi.” He pouts, as if it’s an absolute disgrace that he can’t enjoy his pasta, and you roll your eyes. It’s rare you get to see Harry so desperate like this, so needy it’s all he can think about. But he’s reaching over the table to clasp his hand overtop of yours where you’re clutching your fork, bringing the back of your palm up to his mouth to press a kiss to your skin, and you smile down at your pizza. It’s sweet, even if you know he’s only doing it so you’ll agree to leave dinner early to go home, or perhaps run out to the car for a quickie.

“Never said last,” you tell him, pressing your free hand to the front of your stomach. “It better not be the last, professor.”

“Not the last,” Harry agrees, lips still firmly planted to your hand so every word is mouthed to your skin. You watch him with arched eyebrows, trying to anticipate his next move, when he leans over further and says, voice soft and nearly pleading, “Are y’sure you don’t want a quickie? ‘Cause I can read you like a book, honey, an’ I can fuckin’ feel you clenching your thighs, y’know. Can practically smell how wet you are. M’not dumb.”

Fuck.

You exhale a soft shaky breath, and you know he’s got you right where he wants you, if the satisfied smirk on his face tells you anything. He drops your hand and you dig your fingers into the tablecloth, watching as he leans back in the booth.

It’s your move and you’re not sure how to play it, taking the brief moment to run through all of your options. You could go home, spend the rest of the night in the apartment, but you don’t reckon Harry would be able to wait so long. And you’re not too sure your back would appreciate getting fucked in the backseat, so the only other option is -

“Alright,” you murmur, and then your ankle unhooks from around his ankle so you can slide out of the booth. When you’re standing you rest your hand on the underside of your stomach, reaching out a hand for Harry to grab as you tug him from the booth. Immediately his arm wraps around your waist and you lift your head up to reach his ear, voice hardly rising above a whisper, “The bathroom, Har.”

His eyes flutter shut at your words, breathing out a slow groan, and you give him just a second to relish in the subtext of it - the second passes, though, and you nudge him once more. He tightens his arm around you and leads you from the booth, dragging you through the restaurant to a sleek, black staircase, a sign on the wall beside it declaring that the restroom is downstairs. When you’re out of sight from most customers and workers in the dining room, the two of you practically run down the stairs, Harry grabbing your hand to make sure you don’t trip, and you’re nearly breathless when you finally locate the bathroom.

Not a second after Harry pulls you inside, slamming and locking the door shut behind you, your lips are on his. Hands roam up and down your back through your dress and your fingernails dig into his neck, and for a moment, that’s enough - just feeling his touch after feeling deprived, even if you’d been trying to pretend you didn’t need him. But, God, he’s looked so good the entire night, donning a loose pink dress shirt, the first two buttons undone, and black dress pants - it’s not unlike what he would wear to class and maybe that’s why you love it so much.

The moment passes, though, because you know this needs to be fast and merely making out against the cool door won’t do either of you too much good. Harry’s fingers hook in the hem of your dress, beginning to pull the fabric up over your ass but you stop him, fingers wrapping around his wrist and meeting his look of confusion with one of pure seduction.

You slowly adjust your dress again, tugging it back down to the mid-thigh point where it belongs, and Harry watches you - his chest is heaving and his palms are pressed to the door, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this. So far gone already and you’ve barely touched him - it’s a gorgeous contrast from how it usually is, where you’re the one so needy and desperate for him.

The moan that cracks through the air when you drop to your knees in front of him sends a rush of arousal straight to your core. You’d love to have him pound into you right here, against the black tiled walls of the restroom, but when he’s like this? You need him in your mouth - God, you’re fucking aching for it. And waiting will merely make the inevitable pleasure so much better, later.

As if on instinct, Harry’s hand presses to the back of your head, fingertips gently smoothing your scalp as if to comfort you. “Sure y’don’t want me to fuck you? Know you wan’ it - feel bad makin’ you wait.”

You shake your head, leaning in to gently nuzzle at the bulge, so prominent in his pants. Harry’s hips jerk forward at the slight sensation and you give him a soft glare as he murmurs quiet apologies into the suddenly warm bathroom air. “No,” you tell him, voice hot against his dick even through his trousers. “Need you in my throat, professor.” And the resulting moan spurs you onwards, reaching for the zipper blocking you from what you need.

He’s rambling as you tug the zipper of his pants down, fumbling with the button so you can pull his boxers down over his member. You wait a moment before making any type of contact with his length, glancing up to meet his lust blown eyes with a small smirk gracing your lips. Harry’s digits tangle in your hair as you lean in, ghosting a soft kiss to the base of his cock before wrapping your fist around him. “God - gonna suck me off, hmm? Look so good on your knees, y’know that? Fuck, please don’t tease me -”

Your hand pumps up and down his length, hot and heavy in your palm, the head red and angry and already leaking precum. It’s a show of how deprived your boyfriend is as he hisses near violently when you press an open mouthed kiss to the dripping tip of his cock, hand still jerking up and down the base of him.

As much as Harry had begged you not to, you’re tempted to tease him - kitten licks to his dick until he’s begging harder than he already is - but you have to remind yourself that you’re not in your apartment, and you don’t have enough time to be going as slowly as you are. So you stick your tongue out, use your hand on his base to guide him so it’s sitting, heavy on your tongue. His breathing has all but stopped, watching with his mouth dropped open as you take him into your mouth, closing your lips around his cock when it’s nearly halfway down your throat.

The feeling of your lips shutting around his member has a wet grunt escaping his throat, and his fingers tighten in your hair to the point where you reckon you can feel strands disconnecting from your scalp - but you find you don’t truly care. It goes straight to your clit, every one of Harry’s reactions, from the way his fingernails dig indents into your head and his head falls back against the bathroom door with a dull thump that reverberates through you. Normally you wouldn’t hesitate to try and alleviate the pressure growing in your clit - maybe pull your dress up and get yourself off - but the thought of how good it’ll feel if you wait keeps your hands from wandering.

“Oh my god -” you look up at Harry where he’s got his fist, half buried in his mouth, muffling every noise he lets out. His face is coated with a thin sheet of sweat, eyes squeezed shut, looking as though you’d been sucking him off for hours instead of five minutes. “Please, baby - God, feels so good.”

You’ve been giving him blowjobs for over two years and yet, every single time, you need time to adjust to his size - it never fails to make him smirk but he’s too far gone to focus on it now, as you slide his cock down your throat, taking as much of him as you can without gagging. Harry’s fingers in your hair tangle, holding your head to his length though you had no intention of letting up any time soon, anyway - and you’re not sure he’d intended to push you further down on him, nose brushing to his pubic bone, but the way you gag around him has him crying out, entirely too loud even around his fist.

“Sorry, m’sorry - jus’ couldn’t help it -” he’s murmuring, voice strained as he pulls you off of him, letting you bring your wrist up to wipe at the strands of saliva still connecting his cock to your lips. You take just a second to catch your breath before leaning back in, flattening your tongue to lick a thick stripe up the bottom up his member, swirling around his tip once you’ve reached it. “M’really close - gonna cum so fuckin’ hard -”

You’d known from the telltale twitch of his cock when you wrap your lips around him that he’s close, and, as much as you love sucking his dick, your knees are aching and you’d do anything to run home and continue this romp in the sheets. So you continue pumping him, sloppy jerks of the wrist that have moans tumbling off his lips like a mantra, and then you release your lips from around him with a soft pop and stick your tongue out again, resting his head neatly in the center.

Whatever qualms Harry had been holding on to about keeping silent are almost immediately forgotten as his cock thrusts forward onto your tongue, your hand still thrusting the part of him that isn’t resting in your mouth. His head drops forward with a low, throaty moan and you barely get a moment to prepare before he’s cumming, ribbons of milky cum pooling in the valley of your tongue. You can’t help yourself from whimpering at the sensation that you’ve grown to love so much - it helps that his cum doesn’t taste terrible, though you suppose you don’t have much to compare it to.

Your scalp burns when Harry releases your hair, pressing his entire palm to the back of your head and keeping his cock firm in the center of your tongue, though you wouldn’t dream of pulling away until you’ve milked every last drop. He’s panting, chest heaving with desperate gasps of air, and you can’t tear your gaze from him even if he won’t meet it.

It’s Harry who finally pulls away first, shifting his hips backward until his length slides off of your tongue, eyes drifting shut. You reach for his thigh, pinching the soft skin through his trousers until he hisses, glancing down at you like you’d wanted, and you take the brief connection of eye contact to close your mouth, making a show of swallowing the cum you’d collected at the base of your tongue.

“God,” he breathes throatily, hand on your head smoothing down until he’s cupping your cheek, and he smiles when you show him your tongue again to prove that you’d swallowed everything. “Gonna fuckin’ wreck you when I get home.”

You take Harry’s hand when he offers it, intertwining your fingers so he can pull you up. Your knees burn and your back is beginning to ache, and you need him so bad that just his words have you feeling like you could cum in your panties. “Is that a promise?”

There’s that cocky grin you’d expected, spreading slowly across his face as he lands an open mouthed kiss to your lips - a show of love, considering his cock was in your mouth mere seconds ago. It’s a promise that whatever bits of dominance you’d had over him while you were on your knees has dissipated, and you’re more than happy to let him take over. “S’most certainly a promise,” Harry assures you, thumb coming up to wipe at your lip where your lipstick has surely smudged, as you reach down to tuck him back into his pants. “Now, let’s hope there’s not a line, right, baby? Wouldn’t want everyone to know what a dirty girl you were, sucking m’cock like that, now would we?”

And it’s all you can do to shake your head, watching as he feels for the doorknob and undoes the lock.

—

At the time, buying a book of nearly 10,000 baby names had seemed like the perfect idea. You and Harry had hardly talked about what you were to name your daughter, besides that her last name would, naturally, be Styles, and as you approached 34 weeks pregnant, you suspected it was about time to start considering it. Sure, she wasn’t due for weeks, but, realistically, couldn’t she pop out at any moment? You should at least be prepared. And, in the back of your mind, you’d expected to open the book and immediately find a perfect name you both agreed on, because it had seemed like your tastes aligned fairly well in just about every other aspect of life.

Now, though - you can understand why it may not be too great of an idea. If you hadn’t obsessed over her name before, now you were - there were hundreds of names you liked, and almost every single one Harry shot down. The ones that he liked you despised, and the ones you agreed one simply weren’t perfect.

It was all you thought about. The origin of the name had to be perfect, the spelling, it couldn’t clash with her (admittedly unusual) last name and you both had to agree on it.

“Do you like Madison?”

You can see Harry scrunch his nose from where he’s sitting, cross legged on the floor, glaring at the instructions for the crib you’d gotten the week prior. It’s the last part of the nursery to come together, and, admittedly, the most important - though Harry teased, I think the baby is the most important part, actually, and that is exactly why he’s on crib duty. You, meanwhile, sit in the rocking chair your parents had given you, humming to the music blaring from his phone and squinting angrily down at stupid book. Marie sits, curled on your lap, and you absentmindedly stroke your fingers through her fur as you read.

“Y’asked me about Madison last week,” Harry tells you, resting the manual on the plush, cream rug beneath him to examine the pile of disassembled crib lying in front of him. “I didn’t like it then, an’ I don’t like it now.”

You raise your eyebrows, exhaling softly as you flip through the pages of your book, already well worn from how often you’d been searching through it. “Alright, cranky. Sheesh.”

He chuckles at that, running a hand through his locks that fall around his face. You break your gaze from watching him and turn back to your look, scanning your finger down the list of ‘O’ names. Finding one that you like and that you haven’t already asked Harry about is a task easier said than done, and you can feel yourself getting more and more frustrated by the minute with every name you read.

“Ophelia?” you question, trying the name out on your tongue against the background of This Is The Kinks, currently playing The Contenders loud enough that you can barely hear your own voice - but you hear it enough to know you don’t like the name.

“I like that,” Harry says, picking up a piece of crib off the ground and glancing back at the instructions before resting it back on the floor just as quickly.

“I don’t,” you tell him, grinning at his responding snort. “Olivia?”

“Already asked me about tha’ one - s’a no.”

“Oakley?”

“Absolutely not.”

You sit further up, grabbing a section of the book’s pages and pointedly squeezing your eyes shut - Marie stares at you as though annoyed with your movement. “I’m going to flip to a random page,” you announce, voice rising in volume to be heard above The Kinks, “and we’ll pick a name off of whatever page it is.”

You can’t see him but you know he’s rolling his eyes before saying, “That’s a horrible way t’name our child -” but you’re already flipping through the book at random, ignoring whatever he’s calling above the music.

When you decide that you’ve flipped enough, you rest the book on the ottoman in front of the rocking chair and open your eyes, staring down at the page you’ve turned to. Sarah, Sadie, Sabrina - “We’re in the S section.”

“We can’t have our baby’s name be an alliteration.”

“Fine,” you huff, squeezing your eyes shut again, “I’ll flip again -”

“Baby,” Harry calls, and when you don’t react he repeats the pet name until you open your eyes, staring expectantly down at where he’s sitting on the rug. He lets the directions flutter down to the floor before pushing himself to stand, padding across the room until he can grab the baby name book, replacing its spot on the ottoman just in front of you. “We don’t have t’pick a name right now.”

You cross your arms over your chest, hardly able to resist your smile as Harry lifts the book up, flipping past the S section until he’s gazing down at a list of T names and their origins. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting together a crib, professor?”

He merely rolls his eyes, jabbing his finger in the middle of the page. “What about Tiffany?”

The Contenders transitions into All Day And All Of The Night and you bob your head to the change in music, gently kicking Harry’s ankles to try and distract yourself from the stress that’s slowly rising in your chest. “I hate it - and, besides, she might grow up with a complex if she’s named after one of the greatest movies of all time.”

Harry exhales with a small chuckle, finger sliding down the page until it stops again. “Thalia?”

That one makes you pause - it is pretty, and combining it with his last name doesn’t roll off the tongue too terribly. But it isn’t perfect, and you can’t possibly give your baby a name that isn’t perfect. So you shake your head, craning your neck so you can glance at the page with him, dragging your fingers down Marie’s soft back. “Tessa could be pretty, right?”

But he shakes his head, turning a few pages back until you’re staring into the R section. You rest a hand on top of your stomach, as if to ask your daughter what, exactly, her name is, and Harry presses his palm overtop of yours, lacing your fingers together absentmindedly. “I like Riley,” he murmurs, fingernail tapping against the small print of the name and question.

“It’s too similar to Styles,” you disagree, and when he gives you a doubtful look you continue, “The beginnings sound the same - Ri and Sty. Just sounds sort of weird.”

You’re in the middle of reading about the origin for the name Ryan when Harry slowly presses the book shut, and you hardly have time to give him an annoyed glance before he’s telling you, “We’ll look at this tomorrow, alright? We don’t have to find one right now - s’fine.”

“I feel like we’re running out of time,” you confess as he stands up from the ottoman, resting your dumb baby name book on top of the dresser and returning back to the middle of the floor. Marie, meanwhile, hops off your lap, bounding out of the room with her tail high in the air. “I feel like she’s gonna come and we’re not gonna have any sort of name picked out - and we won’t have a crib, by the looks of how this is going.”

“Watch your mouth, lazy butt.” But he can’t help the grin from appearing on his face as he flips through the pages of the small instructional pamphlet with the same degree of dedication you’d put into searching for your daughter’s name. “And y’know she won’t hate us ‘cause we didn’t pick out her name a month and a half before she came.”

You push yourself off of the chair, sending it rocking back and forth with just enough force that it gently hit the walls of the corner it was boxed into, and you maneuver your way through the mess of parts scattered on the floor until you can find a clean spot to sit down in, just beside Harry. He gives you a smile once you’re beside him and leans down to press a kiss to your temple, and you lean backward, resting your weight on one arm and pressing your other hand to the front of your stomach. “She could come next week, you know. Or tomorrow.”

“She won’t,” Harry says, voice sharper than what (you assume) he’d anticipated it to be, because it softens near immediately as he continues, “She won’t, but if she does, we don’t have t’have a name picked out jus’ yet. We’ll find the perfect one, and it’ll fit her, and it’ll be fine.”

His confidence is (unsurprisingly) not at all reassuring to you but you tuck your head against his shoulder anyway, feeling his lips land on your forehead. Your mind is whirring and you can still feel the beginnings of anxiety running its course through your veins, and you know it’ll only get worse until you find the perfect name for your girl - but you feel like you’ve looked at every single one and not a single one is right. Perhaps your superfluous worry about being a terrible mother was the source for it but you don’t want to bring it up to Harry. Not right now. Though he has to be feeling some of the same fear you are, it’s practically a no-brainer that he’ll be the perfect father.

You wish you had the same confidence in yourself, but you’ll work on it later.

“I just want to find the perfect name,” you mumble, muffled against his shoulder and entirely too soft to be heard over the guitar, strumming during the opening of Lola.

“We will,” he promises, and then holds up his pinky for you to hook yours into. A promise in its simplest form, and it makes you smile. “Maybe it won’t be in the book, though - feel like you’ve read every single name.”

You opt not to respond, mouthing the words to Lola as you pick up the directions, eyes scanning over the words without taking any of them in. As expected, you don’t quite understand what any of the guidelines mean - instead, you turn to the pictures, and when Harry pushes himself up, grabbing a small baggie of screws to get to work, you hand them back to him willingly. It was your meek attempt to help, but - well, as Harry had said, you were bringing the most important part of the nursery to the room, so you were fine to sit back and let him do the crib.

It’s only a second, though, of singing along softly to the song while you watch him begin to assemble the crib before it hits you - in plain sight (or plain sound, you suppose) is the name. You’d spent so long buried inside your dumb baby name book that you’d skipped over this because it’s perfect, rolls off your tongue so beautifully when you mouth it, soft enough that your boyfriend can’t hear it over the blaring of the song you’d taken it from.

“Harry,” you call, growing louder in excitement with every syllable. You wait until his eyes are on you, because you want to see his reaction when he hears it - it’s all you can do to pray it’s a positive one, because you know this is it. “What about Lola?”

He pauses, in the midst of inserting a screw into the small hole it’s destined for, and you can see his mind whirring - testing out the name experimentally, the same way you had. And then he says it, loud enough that you can hear, and it sounds as spectacular coming from him as it had from you.

“I love it,” Harry tells you, though you’d already known just from the gleam in his eyes. The excitement that burns through you is nearly fucking overwhelming as you push yourself up (slower than you’d wanted, but your stomach does tend to do that nowadays) and step over the pile of crib parts carefully. His arm hooks around your waist as soon as you’re close enough and you stumble into his arms, winding your arms around his neck to press yourself as close as you can to him - and feeling his face in your hair, repeating the same three words over and over, is feeling strangely akin to paradise.

—

It’s so early in the morning that your bedroom is drowned in thick darkness, like a sheet wrapped around you. Can hardly even be considered morning, you think - as you reach over to tap the screen of your phone, squinting at the way it lights up obnoxiously, you discover that it’s 12:58 AM.

You’re half - no, completely - tempted to curl back into the comfort of Harry’s arms wrapped around you. One is thrown over your torso, palm pressed to the front of your stomach, and the other is pressed between your side and the mattress, hand curved possessively over your boob. He’s a cuddler and you know this, but you tend to move so much during the night with weak attempts to find a position that doesn’t destroy your back that it’s rare to wake up enveloped in him. But now that you’re awake you can feel Lola, pressing on your bladder to the point where falling back asleep would surely just result in an accident later in the night - so, reluctantly, your fingers curl around Harry’s wrist to lug his arm off of your waist.

He groans in his sleep, rolling onto his back, and you push yourself to sit up so you can spend just a second gazing down at him. It’s dark in the room, still illuminated only by your phone screen, but you can see him just enough. He’s a vision when he’s sleeping - mouth parted slightly, hair damp and spread over the pillow you’d been sharing. Hazy eyes take in every bit of his face that you can, blinking away the sleep that threatens to take you back over.

One hand goes to Harry’s cheek, stroking the soft skin and slight stubble dusting his jaw. You swear you can feel him lean into your touch - but then your phone screen finally dims, flooding the room with darkness again, and you sigh before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up.

You rest your hand on the bottom of your stomach, waddling across the room to the cracked door of your bathroom. You make sure to leave it cracked, just a tad - Harry’s a light sleeper, and you can’t be positive that the soft click of the door shutting won’t wake him up. He’s been working himself again, preparing for exams that are already beginning to roll around, and you want him to get as much rest as he can get.

You bring your first up to rub at your eyes before flicking on the light switch, chasing out the darkness from the small bathroom. Eyes still blurred with sleep can’t quite take in your reflection, but you try anyway - your hair is knotted and the heels of your hand is still pressed into your eyes, and the oversized tank top you’d been donning to bed for months stretches taut against your boobs and stomach. It’s weird - and slightly scary - to imagine that, entirely too soon and yet not, your daughter will be here. Not sitting in your stomach, protruding it outwards, but lying in your arms. And you and Harry will be parents, finally, after nearly 10 months of waiting.

It’s too much to think about at barely 1 in the morning - so you tear your gaze from your reflection, head past the mirror to the toilet. You’ll ponder how strange it is to imagine your baby finally arriving later, but not now. Not when you’re forced to clench your thighs together to stop yourself from peeing, so -

Later.

When you’ve finished you wash your hands, making sure the tap doesn’t run too loud, but you swear you can hear a soft groan come from your connecting bedroom. You shut the light off once your hands are dried and push the door open softly, trying to ignore the inevitable creaking noise that will reverberate throughout your bedroom. It’s soft but still present, and you cringe slightly before padding back across the hardwood and rug until you reach your bed. You slowly sit down on the mattress before swinging your legs over and settling back beneath the covers, where Harry hadn’t moved too much since you’d left him earlier.

His breathing isn’t as steady as it had been, though - softly, barely above a breath, you murmur, “Harry?”

There’s a beat where he doesn’t respond, and then he grunts softly in lieu of a response.

So he is awake. You tug the duvet further up your body, shifting so you’re on your side and facing him. The room is still dark and you can’t see him open his eyes, but you can feel his hand move up until it’s wrapped around your torso. “Did I wake you up?” you question quietly, feeling his fingers already pressing soft circles into your hip. “Sorry.”

“No,” Harry tells you, voice raspy and dripping with desire to be asleep. It’s how his morning voice is but you’re not quite sure you can even classify this hour as morning. “Was awake - ‘cause I felt you move m’arm.” You nod, even if he can’t see it, and then he asks, “Wha’ time is it?”

“1.” You shift closer to him, as close as you can with your stomach acting as a barrier between you two, nuzzling your head into the pillow. “Had to pee.”

He hums softly, tilting his head so he can press a kiss to your nose. “I think tha’ means you’re 38 weeks, today. An’ that means 2 weeks until baby is here.”

Huh. You hadn’t known that, but Harry had been better at keeping track of that stuff than you were. “Assuming she arrives on time,” you remind him, eyes drooping shut. “Could come tomorrow.”

“She better not,” he mumbles. “M’not prepared to be a dad so soon.”

“You’ll be great no matter when she comes,” and you mean it. God, he’s been such a great dad so far, and you don’t even have a physical daughter yet. He knows your symptoms practically before you do, has read all of your baby books time and time again and he’s been so good working on the nursery - you can’t even imagine him being worried about her coming. “She’s gonna be a lucky girl, having such a great dad.”

There’s silence and for a second you think he might have fallen asleep - but after a moment he murmurs, “You’ll be the best mum, too - an’ the hottest one.”

You can hardly find the energy to roll your eyes at that but you do anyway, smiling as you hear his low chuckle. Harry’s hold around your waist tightens, tugging you just a bit closer and shifting his body so he can curve around you. You lean forward, puckering your lips softly and feeling him land a soft peck against them. Neither of you bothers to move your heads when you pull apart, merely resting them an inch apart from each other so you can feel his breath, hot on your face, as it begins to steady out again.

He’s an easy sleeper - it’s always been a bit more difficult for you, though. You don’t want to move again and wake him up but you can feel the beginnings of pain settling in your back and lower stomach, and your mind is whirring. 38 weeks feels awfully farther along than 37 and the real reality that you and Harry could be parents as soon as fucking tomorrow is terrifying. There’s so much you feel like you haven’t done yet, even if you know you’ve covered all of the necessary bases - she has a name, she has a crib, she has loving parents. You haven't taken any labour classes - were they necessary? Perhaps you’d made a mistake, not going to any. When the day came, would you be unprepared? Would the nurses be able to tell you’d never practiced any breathing exercises?

You haven’t even packed a hospital bag yet, and you’re not sure what’s supposed to go in it. Tomorrow, you’ll watch a YouTube video while Harry is at work, pack the bag and have it ready to go for when it happens. You’ll practice your breathing, too. Maybe even google some of the best stretches to do, to prepare for labour. It never hurts to be prepared.

“Can hear you thinking,” Harry whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you sigh, eyes opening though you can’t see anything in the darkness. Should’ve known from his fingers, still rubbing circles into your skin, that he was still awake - you just hadn’t thought of it. “Go t’bed, baby.”

You nearly open your mouth to worry him with your concerns - you could tell him about the exercises and the breathing and the bag. Part of you wonders if he feels the same concern but masks it better. He’s been so steady about the entire thing from the very beginning, balancing out your nerves with logic, and you know that’s what he would do now. But it’s 1 AM, and he has to work tomorrow, even if all you’ll be doing is stress-packing a bag. Maybe tomorrow you’ll open a conversation about it, see how he’s feeling. So you hold back, exhaling softly as you bring your hand up to press against his cheek, skin soft beneath your touch. “I love you, professor.”

You can feel Harry’s face stretching into a lazy smile in your hand, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the underside of your wrist. “I love you too,” he tells you, melodic and soft. “G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

You take a second to stare at him - even if you can’t see him, knowing he’s beside you is comforting enough that you allow your eyes to shut. The pillow is soft against your head as you sink into the bed, holding the covers to your chest with the hand that isn’t pressed to his face. It isn’t as though you’d gained too much closure from your very short interaction with Harry, and your tired mind is still threatening to race into another dimension, but it’s easy enough to even out your breathing and let the sleep you’re desperately craving to finally overtake you.

It lasts for a blissful two hours - and in your dreams, you’re lying in a hospital bed with Harry by your side. And you’re staring down at your daughter, a small bundle who looks identical to your boyfriend, and then she’s sitting in front of a birthday cake, and then she’s climbing into a school bus, and then Harry’s helping her with her homework -

It’s, truthfully, a rather nice one, watching dream-Lola grow up. It’s only a strange swooping sensation in your stomach that starts you awake, eyes snapping open to stare up at the ceiling. Harry’s arm is still around you though you’ve turned so you’re resting on your back, covers pushed down so they’re resting just on top of your stomach.

For a moment you reckon you may have actually managed to sleep through the entire night, though judging by the lack of sunlight peeking through the curtains, you haven’t. The insomnia that’s affected you through the entire pregnancy has only been getting worse and God, you’re tired of it. You don’t have a cramp, your back doesn’t hurt and you don’t have to pee.

It’s only when you shift onto your side, reaching for your phone to check what time it is, that you feel it - oh fuck. For a moment you think you’ve peed yourself but no, you just peed two hours ago. But the sheets are dripping wet beneath you, soaking through your sweatpants, and if it’s not pee, then -

“Oh, no.” It’s all you can think, sliding your hand beneath the duvet to feel the liquid that’s gathered on the sheets. Your phone screen, illuminated with a news notification, brightly informs you that it’s 3:28 in the morning, and Harry still snores beside you. “Oh no. No, no, no -”

As if he can sense that you’re seconds away from crying out his name, Harry groans softly beneath you, shifting just enough that you know he’s awake - barely, but you’re not quite all there yet, either. You lift your hand that isn’t coated in liquid to swat at his shoulder, feeling an entirely too familiar lump building in your throat as you do. “Harry - Harry, wake up, wake up -”

He finally jerks awake after the fifth hit to his shoulder, pushing himself to sit up so fast you can hear the familiar thunk of his head hitting the headboard. “What? What -”

You can hardly get the words out but you don’t need to as Harry reaches over to the nightstand, fumbling with the lamp for a minute before turning it on - light floods the room, finally. It’s not immediately obvious, staring down at the comforter beneath you, what’s wrong, and you can see the confusion clouding in his eyes before you throw the covers off of you, exposing the soaked sheets, and that’s when it hits him.

There’s still a second, like the calm before a storm, where all either of you can do is stare at each other, eyes wide and full of horror. She isn’t due for two weeks. And you knew it could happen at any minute but you hadn’t expected it to be this minute - you thought you had more time. But there’s a pile of wetness sitting beneath you, telling you that you’d fucking thought wrong, and that’s when you snap out of it.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry breathes, and then you’re both moving - you gingerly shift so your legs are over the edge of the bed and your muscles are aching, your head is spinning, and your pants are drenched. You need to change.

But you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than sit there, paralyzed, while Harry moves around the room. He’s digging through your dresser, pulling out clothes at random - next to you lands a pair of baby pink joggers and one of his shirts for you to wear. In your head you try to recall the things you’re supposed to have at the hospital when you give birth, and maybe you should run to the nursery, where her clothes and supplies are, and try to pack a bag quickly -

“Baby, we need to go t’the hospital.”

His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away - much farther than barely five feet away from you - and you can’t process a single thing he’s saying. You need more time. You want to go back to sleep and do this in two weeks, when she’s supposed to come, because your heart is hammering in your chest. This isn’t right - it can’t be. “Harry - she isn’t supposed to come yet.”

It’s then that you feel a dip in the bed beside you, an arm around your shoulders. Harry’s breathing is heavy and the panic oozes from every word, every breath, as he says, “I know. But - but it’s happening, baby. S’happening now, and we really need to go.”

“I’m really not ready, Harry. We - we need to pack a bag. We need a hospital bag.”

“I’ll ask your mum to bring you stuff at the hospital,” because he always manages to have a logical response even when he’s stressed. And then he’s gently gripping your chin, turning your head so you’re looking at him, vision cloudy through the tears burning the back of your eyes. “It’s gonna be alright - I promise. Jus’ let me help you change.”

Truth be told, you’re more than content to sit here and panic about the entire situation but you let common sense take over, nodding slowly as Harry helps you up. You work with him to change out of your wet sweatpants, sliding on the fresh pair that he’d gotten you, and you merely throw his shirt over your tank top - you can’t be bothered to take it off.

The two of you slowly make your way out of your room, down the hallway to the sitting room, with your arm around Harry’s shoulders and his firm at your waist. You’re not sure if you need the physical support so much as the moral support - hearing his soft, congratulatory murmurs when you merely slide on your shoes is making you feel significantly better. As Harry ducks down to tie his shoes, you lean against the wall and turn to look at your apartment. It’s quiet and clean, and Marie sits perched on top of the couch, clearly having been recently woken up by your hysterics.

Next time you’re here, you’ll have a baby.

“Are you ready?” Harry questions, standing back up and returning his arm around your waist. You’re thankful he’s managing to keep his composure together because you most certainly can’t. You know him well enough to know just how fucking terrified he is but he’s keeping it more in check - when you’re at the hospital, settled into a bed, you’ll feel better. But for now, the mere task of walking down the hall to the elevator feels daunting.

You give your apartment one last fleeting glance before turning back to the door, hooking your arm back around your boyfriend. “I guess so,” you tell him, which is all the confirmation he needs to haul you out of the apartment.

—

You’re slowly brought back to consciousness, nearly 24 hours after your water first broke, by Harry’s soft voice, cooing besides you - even before you open your eyes to see him you’re smiling, and it only widens when you turn your head and glance at him.

As you’d expected, Lola is lying in his arms. Wrapped in a soft, white hospital blanket and eyes wide open, you still feel a soft urge to cry every time you look at the two of them. Harry’s rocking her so gently, her tiny fist wrapped around his pointer finger, and you reckon you could simply sit here and watch them forever - him murmuring so quietly to her that you can’t quite hear it.

And you’re not sure you’d like to. You like the thought of guessing whatever he might be whispering to your daughter when he thinks you’re not listening, but you’re more desperate to hold her again than to continue watching, so you softly clear your throat.

“Oh!” Harry exclaims softly, scooting his chair closer to the edge of your hospital bed. You reach out your arms for your baby and he maneuvers her into your arms, and immediately you lean down to press a soft kiss to her nose. “How’re you feeling, m’love?”

You smile at him, pushing yourself to sit up against your stack of pillows, and he’s quick to adjust them so it’s easier for you. You can’t tear your eyes off of Lola, and if you weren’t so tired you know the mere sight of her would send you into overjoyed tears again. You offer your finger to her, and you reckon your heart could nearly burst as her small fist wraps around the digit. “My vagina feels like it’s burning,” you confess to Harry, grin widening at his soft laugh. “But - God, she’s really beautiful, Har. Looks just like you.”

And it’s true - she has his nose, and his eyes, and the curve of his chin. You trace one of your fingers down her soft cheek, skin feeling like porcelain beneath your touch.

“She does, a bit,” he says, voice staying at its quiet, breathy level, though she’s clearly wide awake. You can sense that, though you’d just taken her from him, he’s already desperate to hold her again - it’s just the glint in his eyes as he stares at the two of you. So you move over on the bed, leaving a sliver of space large enough for him to inhabit, and he gives you a grateful smile before standing up and lying on the bed. It’s tight, and the bed certainly isn’t meant for two people, but you find that, when he wraps his arm around you and presses a soft kiss to the side of your cheek, you don’t quite mind. “I think she has your lips, though.”

Gently tracing your finger along her soft, pink lips, you think he may be right. “She’s perfect,” you repeat, leaning your head into Harry’s shoulder, and his fingers gently comb through your hair. It’s tangled and sweaty - the result of not showering for two days - and his fingers get caught on the knots a few times before resorting to wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “Can you believe we made her?”

He exhales quietly, and you can hear the disbelief present in his voice when he agrees, “Still feels like I’m dreamin’ - like m’gonna wake up, and you’ll still be pregnant.”

“I hope not,” you tell him, voice dropping even quieter as Lola slowly shuts her eyes, lips parting open just the slightest. “I really don’t want to go through that again - not for a few years, at least.”

Harry perks up, just a bit, at that, arm tightening around your waist as the other comes around to help you cradle your daughter. “Y’want to have another baby?”

“In a few years is the keyword,” you remind him. “Stay in the present.”

But no matter what you say, you can’t ignore the visible joy he’d gotten from your words - furthered only as he rests his two fingers on the bottom of your chin, tugging your face in for a soft kiss. “I love you,” he breathes against your mouth, and you can feel heat creeping up your cheeks. “And I love our daughter - s’our perfect little family.” He pauses, then, resting his forehead to yours. “And Marie.”

“And Marie,” you confirm, giggling before turning your attention back to your baby. She’s proper asleep now, breathing soft and steady, fingers loosening around yours. You rest her arm against her chest, pulling the blanket further up her body, and she nuzzles the fabric in her sleep. Your eyes are already beginning to well again, and you’re too bloody exhausted to turn on the waterworks again - so, reluctantly, you hand Lola over to Harry, and he’s more than glad to accept her back into his arms. “M’gonna try and get some rest - when is your mum coming?”

“She said 6,” he replies, attention undivided as he gazes down at the sleeping bundle in his grasp. He cradles her like she could break at any moment - gentle hands holding her head up, fingers softly tracing her blanket. “S’about two hours for you to nap, then.”

You nod, already snuggling into your bed as Harry stands, rocking Lola gently as he makes his way towards her cot. The last thing you hear before drifting off again is his voice, soft and full of love, cooing, “We love you, Lola - g’night, angel -” and you fall asleep with a soft smile on your face.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #prof!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #wowie

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twistedlymad · 4 years ago

Note

So I been thinking of this lately. How about like Reader have a Dream that she Alice and It’s like Alice In Wonderland with the Heartslabyul Dorm .I have no one to share this XD

I’ve seen a few other stories that had the same concept, where you are the hero and the boys are the villain of their respective dormitories. But, it’s okay, I wanted to try writing this as well!

Truth be told, when I watched Alice in Wonderland as a kid, I didn’t really understand the whole movie, now, after 10 years I finally picked it up again just for this story XD

But, anyways, this was lovely to write! Thank you so much for giving me an idea for this dear anon! I hope you enjoy this little story and I hope you have a lovely day!

Little note: I didn’t fully follow the movie, I added my own version and twists of how things would play out instead! I hope you don’t mind dear anon! Also, should I also write for the other dorms?

(Y/N) in Wonderland! (Ft. Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce, Che’nya and Grim)

Confusion, the only thing in your mind as you wandered the forest named Tulgey Wood. Little critters of all kind surrounded you as you continued your journey, hoping to find a way back home.

You then followed an arrow that pointed at a path that you thought would lead you back to your Ramshackle Dorm. You were so excited when you saw the arrow, you thought the path that the arrow pointed was the way back home! You couldn’t wait to see Grim and your friends again! Oh, how you missed them so dearly!

“I’m going to see Grim and everyone again!” You exclaimed as you ran along the path. You were literally bouncing and skipping with joy as you continued the path.

“Oh, I just can’t wait until I-“ You stopped yourself mid-sentence and let out a loud gasp. In front of you, was a critter with the body of a dog, but its head and tail were brooms! It was sweeping away a path from the other end. It was sweeping away the exact path that you were following.

You stared at the creature intensely as it got closer and closer to you. It stopped sweeping as it arrived in front of your feet, it didn’t want to bother you so the creature took a step sideways, walked a few steps forward so it was behind you and continued its job, sweeping up the path behind you. At last, you were left in a square of the path.

Honestly, you were tired, you had been through so much already, you were forced to shrink down so you could enter a talking-door through its keyhole, you met with a pair of round twins that would not stop telling you all sorts of stories, you were treated as a monster as you accidentally ate a cookie that enlarged you in a small little house, you were ridiculed by flowers when you couldn’t answer what type of flower you were, you met with a caterpillar who spoke in riddles and got mad at you when you asked him multiple questions, you even had tea with a very peculiar man and his hare as they celebrated an ‘un-birthday’.

And now, you were lost in a deep forest, with no directions whatsoever.

You sat down on a rock and let out a sigh.

“What’s the point?” You asked yourself. “I’m never going to go back to Grim and the others.” You continued, negative thoughts filling up your mind. You felt tears coming to your eyes as you thought that you were never going to see that furball you dearly loved ever again, you lowered your head into your hands as you let your tears fall out. The critters that inhabited the forest watched you as you wept, feeling the same feeling of sadness as they saw you cry. They silently wept alongside you, before slowly disappearing, one by one, leaving you all alone once again.

But, then you heard singing. You looked up from your hands to see…

“Che’nya?” You questioned.

“Che’nya? Is that really you?” You asked once again to the figure on top of a tree.

“Che’nya! It’s me! (Y/N)! From Night Raven College!” You said to him, thinking that you finally found someone you knew and you were going to get help. But, something felt off to you.

“Well, whom did you expect~nya?” Who you assumed to be Che’nya replied. You were slightly taken aback, this Che’nya… Didn’t really feel like the same Che’nya that you met at Heartslabyul. And this Che’nya didn’t know who you were? You two clearly had met before.

“Um, no one? I just… Want to go back to the others at Night Raven College.” You said, looking donwards. “But, I can’t find the way back.”

“Well, actually, that’s because you have no way.” Che’nya replied, lousing around on the tree before slowly descending from it to meet with you.

“All ways here are the queen’s way~nya.” Che’nya continued before walking behind you.

“But, I’ve never met any queen until now.” You said, turning to Che’nya. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and immediately turned back to face you with a shocked expression on his face.

“You haven’t?” He asked you, his face slowly lighting up with excitement, a smile slowly making its way onto his face. “Mew have-en’t?!” He repeated once more, his hands cupping his face.

“Ohhh! But you must!” Che’nya said to you with sparkles in his eyes. “He’ll be mad about mew! Twistedly mad!” Che’nya added. (I uh… Don’t mind me :) )

“’He’? But… Shouldn’t the queen be a ‘she’?” You asked the Royal Sword Academy student.

“Well, here, the queen is a ‘he’!” Che’nya laughed a little before starting to sing and disappear once more.

“W-Wait!” You called for him, asking him to stop. “H-How do I find the queen?” You asked.

“Meowl, some might go that way.” Che’nya pointed to his left.

“Some might go this way!” He continued, pointing to his right.

“But, for yours truly, I’d like to take the shortcut~nya.” The Royal Sword Academy student said and pulled on a nearby tree branch, making the trunk of the tree lower down like a drawbridge. Your eyes widen in wonder as in front of you looked like a whole other world compared to the forest you were in.

“Thank you Che’n-“ You said but stop mid-sentence as you looked up to see the figure had disappeared.

“Hmm, I wonder why is the queen a ‘he’?” You said to yourself in a low voice. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll find out.” You said once again as you journeyed into the garden.

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

Okay, if you were honest with yourself, you would’ve enjoyed the lovely greens and fresh flowers of this little garden.

IF IT WASN’T A FREAKING MAZE.

As you continued venturing into the garden, you began to realize how much this garden had reminded you of the rose garden of Heartslabyul. Every twist and turn seemed like they led you to a dead end, yet, at every dead end, there’s a pathway that leads you to more twists and turns.

It’s a never-ending cycle. And you were getting slightly frustrated and dizzy.

“Oh… This is worse than Heartslabyul…” You grumbled under your breath as you took a right that led you to a small little pathway again. As you continued down the pathway, you had heard singing coming out from behind a wall made out of bushes. Splats of red paint landed in front of you from over the wall as well.

You peered over the wall, trying to see who was singing and what was going on, but the wall was too high for you. So, you walked alongside the wall, hoping to find an opening to the other side. It didn’t take much walking to find one.

As you peeked into the opening, you were given quite the surprise to see three boys holding paint brushes and painting! But, something else had caught your eye, you see, they were wearing a very familiar set of clothing, yet you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You slowly inched closer to them, trying to see what they were doing. When you did, you were surprised! They were painting white roses red? It was the exact same thing Cater was doing when you first met him.

Then it hit you. The clothes the boys were wearing were the dorm uniform of Heartslabyul! You were back home!

Or so you thought.

You let a smile appear on your face, thinking that the maze you went through was actually the Rose Garden of Heartslabyul and that you were at the dormitory right now, which means you could find Ace and Deuce and ask them what was going on.

“Excuse me.” You said, catching the attention of the boys. “May I know where Ace and Deuce are?” You asked, hoping that they would lead you back to your friends. They thought about it for a moment and gave you a reply.

But, it wasn’t the reply you were hoping for.

“Which Ace? Which Deuce?” One of them questioned you back. You were shocked, you were pretty sure there was only one person named Ace and one person named Deuce at Night Raven College.

“Um, Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade?” You answered but it sounded like a question instead.

“Which Ace Trappola and which Deuce Spade?” Another boy replied, confusing you further. Were these guys playing tricks on you? What did they mean by ‘which’? Or do they genuinely didn’t know of Ace and Deuce. You decided to go with the latter and tried again with other names of Heartslabyul members.

“Okay, how about Trey Clover? Cater Diamond?” You asked once again and they shook their heads, going back to painting the roses. You lowered your head, trying to think.

“Riddle Rosehearts?” You asked and slowly looked up, only to see the three boys looking at you in horror.

“That’s the queen’s name! You musn’t simply use it!” One of them whispered-yelled to you.

“The queen?” You asked, another boy started to explain to you.

“The que-“ But, he was cut off with the sounds of blaring trumpets.

“The queen is here! Quick, to your places!” One of the boys yelled and the three immediately scattered around like chickens trying to hide from a predator. You looked around as well, trying to ‘get in place’, you didn’t want to get in trouble with Riddle after all. Luckily, there was a vacant spot between two boys, so, you quickly situated yourself there.

“His imperial highness! His grace! His excellency! His royal majesty! The Queen of Hearts!” Someone yelled as the trumpets ceased. ‘The Queen of Hearts?’ You thought to yourself and leaned out of your line a little, trying to get a glimpse of the queen, and to your surprise, it was actually Riddle! Trey, Cater, Ace and Deuce were walking along his side as well.

“Riddle-senpai? Trey-senpai and Cater-senpai too! There’s Ace and Deuce as well!” You whispered to yourself. “I have to ask them what’s going on, is this some sort of new Heartslabyul tradition? Why didn’t I hear anything about it from them?” You questioned yourself and started to walk towards Riddle.

“Ano, Riddle-senpai, what’s going on?” You asked out loud. Loud gasps can be heard from around you. Your three upperclassmen and two best friends turned to look at you.

“You dare to call the queen by his name?” Ace questioned you.

“But, that’s how I usually call him. Ace! Deuce! You guys call him that too!” You replied to Ace.

“Just who do you think you are?” Riddle asked you, menacingly. But before you could answer, Trey had beat you to it.

“Well, your majesty, she isn’t a Heart, nor a Club. She certainly isn’t a Spade nor a Diamond either.” Your upperclassman said.

“Are you from another kingdom?” Deuce asked you.

“Did you come here to spy on us?” Cater added on and everyone started to whisper to each other. You were confused and lowered your head to look at the ground because you felt everyone’s menacing glares and stares on you.

“What? I don’t underst-“ You were cut off by Riddle’s booming voice.

“Look up while you talk, stand straight, arch out your back, broaden your shoulders, turn out your toes!” You were taken aback, Riddle never really used his voice at you before, but in your surprised state, you immediately did as you were told.

“Very good, now, I’ll be asking the questions.” Riddle said. “And you will reply with ‘Yes, your majesty’ or ‘No, your majesty’. Do you understand?” The queen questioned.

“Yes, Ridd- I mean, your majesty.” You corrected yourself quickly, not wanting to face the wrath of an angry Riddle.

“Good, now, where did you come from, and, where are you headed?” The queen asked you.

“Um, I don’t know where I came from? And I’m trying to find my way-“

“Your way? All ways here are MY WAYS.” Riddle boomed at you.

“Um, okay, but your majesty, could you at least inform Headmaster Crowley that I am here?” You asked.

“I’ve never heard of such a person.” Riddle replied, leaving you dumbfounded. That didn’t make any sort of sense to you. Never heard of Crowley? It’s almost as if you were in another world. You began to ponder your brain once more, trying to think of solutions and reasons as to why your friends were acting this way. You were so deep in thought, you didn’t notice a familiar person appearing beside you.

“So, (Y/N), do mew like it here?” You heard a voice ask.

“No, how could I? It’s almost as if everyone has gone crazy here! I thought Riddle had given up his hot headed tyrant-like days. And now, everyone is just pampering him!” You muttered lowly as a reply to the voice, thinking that no one could hear your words.

“What was that?” Riddle immediately turned to question you and before you could reply, the voice had beaten you to it.

“She said you had gone crazily mad, and that you’re a hot headed tyrant and everybody needs to pamper mew!” You immediately looked at the source of the voice, and only did you knew that it was Che’nya, you looked at him in disbelief, was he trying to get you beheaded? But, oh, after hearing what Aruchēmi Aruchēmievichi Pinkā had said, the queen was surely angered, his face getting redder by each second. You immediately snapped back to look at the reddening queen.

What are you doing standing there and looking Reader-san?! RUN ALREADY!

“Your majesty, wai-“ Trey couldn’t even finish his sentence before he got cut off by Riddle.

“OFF. WITH. HER. HEAD!” A red-faced Riddle yelled out, pointing at you. Your eyes widen in horror as you saw everyone rushing over to you. Your legs finally got the danger signal sent from your brain after a second and you ran again, back into the garden maze, trying to get away from the rampaging queen and his subordinates.

“Wait, guys! This is all a mistake!” You frantically yelled, hoping that your words could reach your friends’ ears. Yet, you were ignored.

As you ran through the maze, Ace and Deuce could be blocking your path from time to time, forcing you to take another turn.

Cater with his clones can be found almost everywhere! Yet you still avoided them thanks to your quick and nimble self.

Trey and Riddle were always on your tail, so you couldn’t afford to slow down either.

So you continued to run, navigating your way in the garden maze, trying to shake off your supposed friends. It wasn’t long before you had turned into a long pathway, with a door at the end? No, wait, that door was the exact same door that you had talked to at the very beginning. That must be the exit! So, you immediately picked up your pace and ran to the door at full speed.

“Please! I have to get out before I get beheaded!” You panicked as you reached the door.

“What do you mean? You are outside!” The door replied to you, you stared at it in disbelief.

“What?” You questioned.

“See for yourself.” And the door let you peek through his keyhole. On the other side of the door, was you sleeping in your bed at Ramshackle Dorm!

“I’m asleep?” You questioned yourself as you peered through the keyhole.

“DON’T LET HER ESCAPE! OFF WITH HER HEAD!” Yelled Riddle as he, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce and alongside other Heartslabyul members ran towards you at full speed.

“(Y/N)! Wake up! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!” You frantically yelled to yourself as your vision slowly blurred itself, to the point where you could only see darkness. You were getting dizzy, however, shouts of your name can still be heard.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)!”

You opened your eyes to see Riddle, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce and Grim around your bed. Ace and Deuce each had a hand on one of your shoulders and they were shaking you ever so lightly.

“(Y/N), you’re awake!” Ace yelled out. You were still confused, your head was still spinning quick and you were in a daze.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on Riddle again, making you remember all the events that happened in your dream. Your eyes immediately widen as you remembered.

“PLEASE DON’T CUT OFF MY HEAD!!!!” You yelled as you shot up from your bed, your hands immediately flailing to cover your head.

“I… Uh… Wasn’t going to?” Riddle questioned you, with a confused look on his face.

“(Y/N)-chan, why would Riddle cut off your head if you didn’t do anything wrong?” Cater asked you, laughing slightly.

“I…” You started, confused as you yourself didn’t really know what had happened. You remember all the events ever so clearly, yet, it was all only a dream? But, it felt so surreal.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Deuce asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I’m… Alright…” You replied your friend with a smile. “What are you all doing here though?” You questioned your Heartslabyul friends.

“We need to make tarts for the un-birthday party that’s happening in two weeks, remember? We figured we’d drop by to fetch you.” Ace said.

“The ghosts informed us that you weren’t awake yet, and we didn’t really want to wake you up, but then Dorm Leader Rosehearts, Clover-senpai and Diamond-senpai arrived as well.” Deuce continued.

“We were waiting in the common room, but then we saw Grim-chan running towards us.” Cater said.

“It wasn’t like you to wake up after Grim, so we asked him what’s going on.” Said Trey.

“Only then we found out that you were in a deep sleep and we tried to wake you up.” Riddle said, ending the story.

“Oh… Right… Well, give me a few moments and I’ll join you in the common room.” You said and everyone nodded as they left your room.

“Hmm…What a peculiar dream indeed…” You muttered to yourself as you prepared yourself for the day.

~Bonus!~

A little ‘ding’ sound can be heard in the common kitchen of Heartslabyul, signaling that the goods inside the oven were ready to be served. Trey pulled out all the goods that you and your friends had prepared.

Everything just looked so tasty and mouthwatering! You couldn’t help but drool slightly at the baked goods that laid in front of you.

“Well? Have a taste everyone!” Trey said as you, Ace, Deuce and Grim did a cheer and grabbed small pieces of desserts for yourselves. One bite of the dessert was enough to send you to cloud nine. You savored the flavor in your mouth before taking another bite.

“These taste great Trey-senpai!” You said to the vice dorm leader of Heartslabyul. In return, the latter smiled at you.

“Glad you like them (Y/N).” He said.

“Hehehe, (Y/N)’s right mew know? Trey’s sweets are always purr-fect!” A figure appeared beside you, chomping down on a dessert. You, Ace, Deuce, Grim and Cater let out a small yelp as you all were greeted with a floating head at first.

“C-Che’nya!” Riddle exclaimed, surprised that his childhood friend was there. Che’nya then slowly let his whole body fully appear.

“How did you manage to sneak your way in this time?” Trey asked his friend.

“I have my ways~nya!” Che’nya replied as he grabbed another tart to eat.

“Always unpredictable.” Trey said, shaking his head and going to chat with his dorm members.

Suddenly, a loud crash was heard. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and looked to the source of the crash, you.

Shards of broken china surrounded your feet, as you stood there, frozen like a statue.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” Ace frantically asked you.

“A-Ah… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay, it’s just a plate, we’ll clean it up in no time.” Deuce said, cutting you off and giving you a small pat on your back.

“(Y/N), I think you should rest for now, you look pale and you don’t seem like yourself.” Riddle said, worried for you, you gave him a small smile as a response.

“Alright, I think I should go back to my dorm, once again, I’m sorry everyone.” You said, bowing your head and left the kitchen as quick as you can.

All of that wouldn’t have happened in the first place, you know?

And it was all because Che’nya had whispered a sentence to you.

“See (Y/N)? I told you the queen would be mad about you.”

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years ago

Note

Hi love! Merry Christmas! I hope you are having an amazing Christmas!

I was wondering if as a Christmas gift you could make a cherik rec of enemies to lovers and/or friends to lovers?

🎅��🎄✨

A very, very belated Christmas to you. I had a very nice (though a bit busy) Christmas. I’m so sorry that this took me this long to answer but I took extra care to make this list. There are a LOT of great fics out there with both of those themes. I’m sure that I’ve missed some excellent ones but I do have quite an extensive list for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers

Wasteland – FuryRed

Summary: After Shaw succeeded in his plan to unleash nuclear war, Erik could only watch in horror as the world completely fell apart. Atom bombs. Sentinels roaming the country. Mutants being rounded up and forced into death camps. These were dark days, indeed.

Countless lives were lost in the war that followed, until the remaining mutants and humans scattered across the land- each just waiting for an opportunity to eliminate the other side.

Erik was confident that the Brotherhood would emerge victorious, but what he hadn’t counted on was the human resistance acquiring a mutant as their leader- a telepath, who insisted that humanity and mutantkind could one day live in peace…

Few experience (what you really are) – flightingflame

Summary: Magneto despises the humans that experiment on and enslave his kind. Recaptured after escaping the lab where he spent his youth, he finds himself bought by a rich man whose household is full of mutants. But Charles is keeping secrets of his own, and while he’s a dangerous man, he’s a powerful one to have on your side.

Sink or Swim – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is a struggling single dad of three kids with a burning hatred for Sebastian Shaw, the man who wronged him years ago. He’s tried to move on with his life, but a run-in with Shaw’s rude, spoiled omega, Charles, drags up old anger.

When Charles ends up in the hospital after an accident, Erik goes to confront him only to find that Charles has amnesia. In the confusion, Charles mistakenly assumes that Erik is his mate.

Erik knows he should clear up the misunderstanding, but how can he pass up this perfect chance for a little revenge?

(An Overboard AU)

The Skin Outside Is Taking You For A Ride – blarfkey

Summary: The fights between Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are legendary, and after four years Principal McTaggart is sick of it. After their most recent screaming match in debate club, Principal McTaggart gives Erik and Charles an ultimatum: they must help Raven work on the Senior play and the next fight that breaks out between them will result in expulsion.

Forced to be civil for the first time in their lives, Erik and Charles must reconcile their tumultuous rivalry with the new versions of each other they slowly discover.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Robbers – dsrobertson

Summary: 1933. Bank robber AU.

The Bureau of Investigation are after Public Enemy Number Two, bank robber Erik Lehnsherr. Charles Xavier is fiancé to Special Agent Moira MacTaggart. A closet homosexual, Charles visits the Manhattan pansy club scene and meets Max Eisenhardt. Only as time goes on, Max Eisenhardt turns out to be Erik Lehnsherr. Public Enemy Number Two.

Charles learns exactly what happens when you accidentally fall in love with a male bank robber in 1930s America.

Warning: Bring your tissues for this one.

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

Summary: Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

For the Roses – Nausicaa (ignusphoenicis)

Summary: After an accident left him paralyzed below the waist, former elite track star Charles Xavier needs a new hobby. His longtime rival, the German runner Erik Lehnsherr, might just be that hobby.

Note: Unfinished but worth a read.

Friends to Lovers

Best-laid plans – ikeracity

Summary: Charles decides that the best way to confess his feelings to his best friend is to surprise Erik at his apartment, naked, wearing nothing but a bow. It's perhaps one of Charles's worst ideas--or his best.

For The Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

A Winter in New York – nextraordinaire

Summary: Charles and Erik have been childhood friends for as long as they can remember – Erik, living with his mother in Queens, and Charles in the big mansion in Westchester. For all, expect themselves, it was just natural progression that they'd end up together.

A series of ficlets from the same universe – can be read as separate and are out of chronological order.

Resolutions - Black_Betty

Summary: Charles ends the year with honesty and courage and by finally telling his best friend how he feels about him.

Or he would have, if Erik had bothered to show up.

Love Story – Sophia_Bee

Summary: Charles and Erik are best friends, until they're not. A love story in three parts.

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

Speech Making – phalangine

Summary: Modern Emma AU- Charles Xavier, accomplished matchmaker and headmaster of North America’s preeminent school for mutants, intends to add another notch to his belt: setting up his friend Moira. His oldest friend, Erik, has doubts about this plan.

Charles doesn’t share them.

Made To Be Broken – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles makes a New Year's Resolution:

“No more straight men,” Charles repeated as he began scrolling through the apartment directory for Emma’s name. “No more futility. No more pointless hoping and heartbreak. In 2013, I never want to hear the words ‘exception,’ ‘experimenting’ or ‘phase.’ If, God forbid, I hear ‘bicurious’ even once, I may take a hostage.”

Then he goes into the party, and Erik is there.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) – oddegg

Summary: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

Love Medley – ikeracity

Summary: Charles and Erik have been friends and roommates for two years. They've also, coincidentally, been in love with each other for two years. Neither of them has ever had the courage to admit it to the other, but Erik's new friendship with Magda and an untimely accident forces them to confront their feelings once and for all.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #earnestly answers #asks

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shifty-looking-sheep · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard Characters: Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko, Ashley Williams, Conrad Verner Additional Tags: Mass Effect 1, Fluff, Embarrassment, Teasing, acknowledging feelings, blurting out feelings

Summary:

Kaidan tries to deal with the most embarrassing moment of his adult life, and Ashley tries to make it difficult.

“The Council represents more races than I thought. No wonder they’re careful with newcomers.”

Shepard looked out over the ward arm, awe and fascination shining from her face as the lights of the buildings, skycars, and stars reflected in her eyes. Kaidan quickly looked away as he caught himself staring.

“They probably just want to keep everything running,” Kaidan reasoned. “It has to be hard keeping all these cultures working together.”

Ash quietly snorted. “Or maybe they just don’t like humans.”

Kaidan got ready to jump in with something diplomatic, but Shepard got there first.

“Why not? We’ve got oceans, beautiful women, this emotion called love…” Shepard said, smiling, as she looked back across the ward arms. Kaidan turned to look at her face in profile, etching the silhouette into his brain. “According to the old vids, we’ve got everything they want.”

From someone else, he might have thought it a sarcastic comment; frustrated, almost. But her tone seemed sincere, and her introspective smile made him think she was genuinely hopeful. That was… unexpected.

“When you put it that way,” he said, playfully, “there’s no reason they wouldn’t like you… I mean, us! Humans! … Ma’am…”

Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit! What had just tumbled out of his mouth? The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he looked over at Shepard, but his view was blocked by Ash, whose look of surprise quickly turned to mischievous glee. He speedily looked away in excruciating embarrassment.

“You don’t take much shore leave do you, LT?”

The mirth in Ashley's voice prompted him to screw his eyes shut, thoroughly humiliated and wishing he was literally anywhere else. It was that very specific feeling of self-loathing when the wrongness of something you’ve just said is wedged in your gut. What a complete and utter idiot! Had he honestly just implied, to his CO’s face, that he thought she was beautiful? He felt like a college freshman accidentally letting slip that he had a crush on his professor. To his professor. First, he activates some ancient beacon on Eden Prime, and she has to throw him out of the way, and now he admits he thinks she’s beautiful. He’ll be lucky if he’s not transferred off the Normandy by the end of the Citadel’s day cycle. Or worse, the butt of every joke made in the Normandy mess for the remainder of the mission. He can hear them now: Seems Alenko likes powerful women – surprised he hasn’t made a move on the Dalatrass; Is it just Shepard he’s interested in, or does he chase after anyone with a Star of Terra? What’s Alenko’s favourite sexual position? – CO.

“Alright, laugh it up, Chief,” Shepard said, ever so slightly admonishingly. She turned to Kaidan and he tried to read her expression and failed. Entirely neutral commander-face, but not without empathy.

“I appreciate the thought, Alenko, but we’re on duty here.”

“Aaa…” he paused. She appreciates the thought?! What did that mean?! She appreciates a compliment, or she appreciates a compliment from him? No, for god’s sake he needed to pull himself together and move on from this hiccup. He’d just mortified himself with a Freudian slip; this wasn’t the time to start reading into every word Shepard said. He needed a total reset. She wasn’t a romantic prospect; she was his boss. Mind on the mission, Lieutenant.

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” he managed to croak out, feeling a blush rising to his cheeks.

He heard Ash fighting back a laugh. “I’ll walk drag, ma’am.”

He opened his eyes to glare at her, but she just waggled her eyebrows in response. Thankfully Shepard didn’t see it, and didn’t respond to Ash’s jibe. He didn’t know if he’d expected her to. In their only real conversation so far, Shepard had been friendly and sincere, if a little… detached? Self-conscious of her new rank, perhaps? This had been her first time as an XO, and then promoted to CO almost immediately, so perhaps she wasn’t sure how familiar to be with her officers? Anderson hadn’t exactly been a stickler for protocol and rank, but he’d probably have chewed the Chief out for a comment like that. Perhaps Shepard found Kaidan's slip-up funny as well, but he suspected she just had a higher tolerance for a little off-topic chat than most commanding officers.

The Commander had already turned and was making her way across the walkway to the market area. She was striding purposefully, but not overly quickly. Her earlier comments about the Citadel seemed to imply that this was her first visit, and despite there being a job for them to do, she was still a tourist. He caught her turn to look at a group who were chatting near the entrance to a club: two elcor, two asari and a volus. It wasn’t a stare; just a curious glance. Interested in alien culture then? Or simply not been around so many different races before?

He was pulled out of his musings by the sound of giggling over his left shoulder, and he turned to see Ash’s grinning face shaking back and forth.

Kaidan’s face flushed an even deeper scarlet. He’d been staring again, and now that Ash was on to him, he needed to get it together.

No! Not ‘on to him’. There was nothing to be ‘on to’. He didn’t have a crush on Shepard. He was 32; he didn’t have inappropriate crushes like a 20-year-old. He was just dispassionately interested in an interesting person. It made sense to learn as much as you could about your CO, right? It would help him work with her on the battlefield; be able to anticipate her movements. And knowing something about her background and values would allow him to anticipate what she’d likely prioritise, what advice she’d appreciate, how he could best support her…

So far, she’d been a little difficult to read. Anderson had been an open book; his service history told the story of a driven soldier and born leader. Beloved by those under his command, and promoted steadily through hard work and frequent commendations. He kept an appropriate, professional distance from the rest of the crew; didn’t give personal details but radiated a warmth and genuine friendliness that made you feel like you knew him. He made his expectations of the crew very clear and was a straight-shooter. Clearly not a political man. A soldier’s soldier.

But Shepard… he couldn’t tell yet. She’d been round the ship talking to everyone already; learnt names; checked on everyone after Eden Prime. So, caring then. But she also hadn’t really said anything about herself, and her demeanour was entirely unreadable. Not stony; certainly not icy, but not exactly open either.

He’d looked up her service history when he’d joined the Normandy, since he wanted to know who he was working for. Unlike Anderson’s, hers was a little harder to decipher. She’d joined the Alliance early, excelled in combat training, had a number of commendations from various high-profile missions: she'd kept her CO alive during a raid on a red-sand smuggling base out in the Terminus; single-handedly held off the smugglers until the extraction team could make it to them. It’s the sort of stuff the Alliance made a big song and dance about; they obviously had after her heroics on Elysium. But this earlier heroic moment seemed to have slipped under the radar. Maybe Shepard hadn’t wanted to be made the centre of a media circus? It would have taken a strong will to have denied the Alliance’s media department a new poster girl. The thought made him smirk.

“Seriously, LT?” Ash whispered. “You made it about five minutes there before you got that goofy heart-eyes look again. I feel bad teasing you about it; it’s too easy to be fun.”

He gave her a look he hoped was serious and annoyed enough to put an end to it. He was technically her superior officer, after all. She didn’t seem deterred though, meeting his look head on with a satisfied smirk.

Had he really gone back to thinking about Shepard so quickly? Maybe Ashley had a point. Shit. This was bad.

While he’d been in his head trying to rationalise his now undeniable fascination with his CO, Kaidan hadn’t noticed that they’d made a detour past the group of aliens and up towards the club: ‘Flux’, the sign read. The sound of bass and chat reached them from down the corridor, but not too loud. It seemed that this early in the day it was mostly gamblers and drinkers rather than the partying crowd.

They made it through the doorway into a fairly small bar area. Shepard started looking around, then stopped as her eyes lighted on the bartender who was waving her over. Kaidan and Ash held back by the doors; there was little fear of a fight breaking out somewhere as public as this, and stomping around a bar in full combat armour toting several different guns apiece didn’t tend to make the punters comfortable. A few had already given them some looks ranging from mildly curious to extremely worried.

“So, this is an interesting development.”

Ash was looking at him and smiling, but not unkindly. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, fidgeting with them at his sides before deciding to cross them again. This topic didn’t need to make him feel nervous; he just needed to convince the Chief that it had been a simple slip-of-the-tongue, and they could move on and away from his humiliation.

Ash leaned in conspiratorially. “For what it’s worth, I think you two would be cute together. And your kids would be gorgeous!”

He groaned, and put his hand to his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on.

“It’s not… I don’t... I mean...”

Ashley raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look. “Hmmm, sure.”

Kaidan sighed. “Buy you a drink if you promise not to tell anyone on the Normandy about my foot-in-mouth disease.”

“Oooo, I don’t know about that, LT. I might need to be a pretty fancy cocktail to buy my silence.”

“Worth it.”

It would have to wait for another time though, as Shepard was making her way back to them at the doors. They followed along behind her as they made their way back down the corridor.

“We need to drop by a club called Chora's Den after we’re done with Chorban,” she sighed. “The bartender’s sister is a C-Sec informant, and it looks like she might be in trouble. It’ll give us a chance to drop in on this ‘Fist’ character as well.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Ash and Kaidan replied in unison.

They approached the far end of the walkway and started making their way across the upper market. If their informant was correct, Chorban should be in the lower market. They had no idea what to expect, but he could well be armed and dangerous. Kaidan didn’t like meeting in such a public and crowded place, but he trusted Shepard’s judgement that she could fix this with diplomacy. As they peeled their way through the crowd, Kaidan clocked someone at the top of the stairs looking in their direction. Human, male, possibly in his late 40s, and eyes fixed on Shepard. Kaidan put his hand on his sidearm.

“Wow! It’s you!”

The man waved and took a step forward, partially blocking their way down the stairs. Shepard’s shoulders tensed, but she walked over to the man without taking a defensive posture. Kaidan’s hand remained on his pistol.

“You’re Commander Shepard!” the man said, in a voice dripping in sycophantic joy. “The hero of Eden Prime! I am so honoured to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you.” Shepard shook the man’s hand firmly, a slightly forced smile on her face but a friendly tone to her voice. Kaidan guessed this wasn’t the first time this had happened, considering how high-profile she was. “And you are…?”

“My name is Conrad. Conrad Verner. They say you killed more than a hundred geth on Eden Prime!”

The man didn’t seem like a threat, and Kaidan relaxed a little, but he didn’t like the desperation in his voice, or the dark feeling of dislike he immediately felt for this man.

Shepard shrugged. “I spent most of the time trying to stay alive and help the colonists.”

Conrad nodded, but in that way that makes it seem like you didn’t hear anything the person just said. Kaidan glanced at the time on his omnitool. This wasn’t really a distraction they needed just before they walked into what could be a firefight.

“Hey, I know you’re pretty busy,” Conrad said, “but do you have time for a quick autograph?”

Shepard seemed a little embarrassed, as a slight blush coloured the side of her cheek. Her skin was already a warm coffee-colour, but with the blush she looked… stunning.

Ash leaned in close enough to whisper without the Commander overhearing. “How does it feel to see the competition. For my money, I think you probably have the edge.”

Kaidan turned his shocked intake of breath into a cough, and looked daggers at Ashley. Again. But then, she’d also got him pegged: he had felt the tiniest spark of jealousy. What was happening to him?!

Shepard had just finished signing the datapad that Conrad had pressed into her hands, and handed it back with a smile.

“Anything for a fan. Here.”

“Thanks,” Conrad said, his eyes out on stalks as he stared at the datapad. “I really appreciate it. My… wife is going to be so impressed.”

Ash rolled her eyes.

“I’ll let you get back to work, but next time you’re on Earth, I’d love to buy you a drink. Thanks again!”

Kaidan followed the Commander towards the stairs down to the lower markets, as Conrad walked in the other direction. Ash was typing something on her omnitool, and Kaidan got the ping of a message a moment later.

Figure you’re going to be that guy in 20 years?

Kaidan swung from feeling angry to simply contrite. Kicking up a fuss about a joke was never a good look, particularly if you wanted the joke to go away. And it needed to go away, because if it had been so immediately obvious to Ashley every time he’d unconsciously stared at the Commander, the others were going to see it to; especially if they were primed to look for it. This couldn’t go further than Ash.

He doesn’t have my bone structure.

The Chief barked a little laugh, and Shepard gave her a curious glance, but they continued walking in silence.

As they rounded the corner and entered the lower markets, they could see Chorban up ahead, flanked by some heavily-armed salarian bodyguards. Shepard walked up to him with that same purposeful march, seemingly unperturbed by the heavies. Ash had unholstered her rifle, and was holding it across her body, and Kaidan created a weak biotic barrier around himself, just to let the goons know what they were up against if they decided to attack. They both looked considerably more nervous after taking in Kaidan and Ashley’s preparations.

Shepard was listening to Chorban and asking pointed questions, trying to calmly get to the bottom of what sounded like a ridiculous miscommunication got completely out of hand. She was so direct, authoritative, but not pushy or intimidating. Chorban spilled his guts.

Before Kaidan could really process what was being said, Shepard was already moving away and towards the elevator back up to the Presidium, but as she walked past Kaidan she caught him dropping his biotic barrier and did a little double-take. Odd; she’d seen him use his biotics several times on Eden Prime, but perhaps not that close. He knew his usually hazel eyes turned blue when he used his biotics, so maybe that’s what she’d seen. Her eyes had met his and flown wide before she'd quickly looked away.

As they entered the elevator, she turned around as he walked in, and again she met his eyes and then snapped away. Was that… embarrassment? She was blushing, and it had been several minutes since the autograph incident, so it didn’t seem likely that it was still from that. What was she thinking about?

As the elevator doors closed, Kaidan’s mind was whirring away at light speed. He recalled how she’d got slightly flustered when speaking to him in the med-bay after Eden Prime. After he’d said he carried her back to the ship. No, he shouldn’t read too much into it. Indulging in some puppy-love fantasy about his CO couldn’t lead anywhere good. He got another ping on his omnitool.

Hmmm. Seems you’re not the only one nursing a crush, LT.

As he looked at Ashley, she shrugged and nodded towards Shepard’s back, as she was awkwardly crossing and uncrossing her arms. A reflex he knew well.

It threw a tiny piece of kindling onto the flame he’d spent the last half an hour or so trying to starve of oxygen. He was going to need to buy Ash an insane number of cocktails to get her to keep all this quiet… but the idea that there was something to keep quiet, something real, made his stomach do a backflip.

“Disgusting,” Ash whispered, but this time he didn’t object, he just smiled a little bit wider.

Yup, a shitload of cocktails.

Notes:

I haven't been writing very long, and I REALLY want to improve; if you do have any constructive criticism, it would absolutely be welcomed and I would be really grateful 😁

#mass effect fanfiction #mass effect original trilogy appreciation #mass effect 1 #f!shenko #kaidan alenko #ashley williams #conrad verner #very fluffy nonsense

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jawira707 · 4 years ago

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Miraculous Ladybug New York Special fanfic - On the Plane

Info: I read yesterday that some people wanted a sweet Adrinette fic, where they fall asleep next to each other on the plane like they did in the Startrain episode. So I hoped someone would write that. Then I thought, maybe I should write that. This is my first fanfic in nearly one year I think, but why not, why not...I hope you like it! (Spoilers (even though no major spoilers) from the NY special!)

Word Count: 1462

Summary: Adrien had never fallen asleep on a plane, Plagg was on the Titanic and Mari had no earplugs with her...but luckily, they had each other.

Pairing: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Warning: None

(Disclaimer: this fanfic is not sponsered by Air France, but I want them to know despite my critique they’re still 100 times better than American Airlines. Merci)

Title: On the plane

Adrien had never fallen asleep on a plane. No matter on how many trips he had gone, to the US, to Italy, even to Australia and China - mostly business related traveling in first class because his father insisted on that-, he just couldn’t get used to the dry air and the constant noise of the machine. He vividly remembered being scolded for not trying to rest and being too tired for shootings after they had landed, but luckily Gorilla didn’t care, absorbed in his own little word, listening to his meditation podcast, while Adrien kept moving around in his seat trying to find a more comfortable position. He was tired of scrolling through the entertainment program on his screen and additionally, he started to feel cold.

Looking around in the dark, he tried to find anyone that was not asleep, another classmate to talk to, but all the lights were out and he could hear snoring all around. I should have stayed in Paris, he thought guiltily, I should have convinced my father to let me stay. But how? Another voice in his hand, that suspiciously sounded like Plagg, replied. If Ladybug ever finds out, she would be so mad at him. Putting his head in his hands Adrien felt terribly alone, wishing once again his partner knew his real identity so he could explain to her why everything was so complicated at times.

„You’re here for Marinette and your friends too, remember“ The little whisper in his pocket really came from Plagg this time.

„Sorry, did I wake you up?“

„Sleeping with you is like being on the Titanic. And trust me I would know, because I was there! Do you ever sit still?“

„My leg has fallen asleep“

„I have never heard that human body parts sleep separately…“

„It’s just a saying Plagg“

„Well, then here’s another one. Stop worrying so much! Your friends are happy you came“

„You just want cheese and you know it“

„Sure. I live in France to go for cheese to the United States…“

„But you said-…“

„I want you to have some fun, kid, just relax!“

„I can’t“ Adrien gave back, tiredly. Finally giving up on trying, he stood up and started walking back and forth between the rows. The sun hadn’t risen yet and there were still hours to fly. Yay.

Suddenly he saw someone getting up a few rows in front of him. The person was stretching and didn’t seem to be headed to the bathroom or elsewhere. As he approached, he could already tell who it was. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, already not feeling that abandoned as he had a minute before. Maybe he could talk to her? He just had to be careful not to startle her.

„Hey, Marinette“ he called out quietly.

„Hi? Oh…WOAH…I mean, hi Adrien!“ Marinette nearly stumbled as she turned around quickly, her elbow accidentally making contact with her seat neighbor. Her face had turned the color of deep red, but luckily in the dark, no one noticed. „What are you doing here? I mean, it’s nice that you came, it’s not that I don’t want you here, I just-„

„I couldn’t sleep“ Adrien gently interrupted her nervous rambling. „Why are you up? You’re not feeling air sick, do you?“ He remembered her mentioning this earlier, but Marinette seemed confused.

„Me? Oh…no, it’s a…calm flight“

„I’m glad to hear that“

For a moment there just stood next to each other in silence and Adrien wondered if she wanted to sit down again and didn’t do so out of courtesy. „Well, if you would like to sleep some more…“, he started, but didn’t finish because she shook her head.

„No, at least not here, our principal is snoring like a champion.“

Adrien chuckled at this.

„Oh..Adrien?“ He nodded, wondering why she suddenly sounded concerned. „Sorry, but are you feeling air sick?“ She felt stupid for not asking – he always was so caring, complimenting her and asking how she was doing. Maybe he had walked here not to chat, but to consult one of their teachers which were sitting next to her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Next, she almost flinched away before she realized he had put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

„Ah non. Thank you for asking. I’m used to flying, I just don’t like it. It’s loud and stuffed…I know, I sound like a spoiled child“ He chuckled again,making her heart flutter. „Normally, I fly in first class. I’m more chatty when I get tired.“

„Do you want me to come with you? I mean …sit next to you?“ Wait, did she really just asked him that?!

„That would be great.“

„Let’s go“ Wow, Marinette congratulated herself, maybe it was because she couldn’t really see Adrien’s face and his beautiful, wonderful green eyes in the dark or because she also was exhausted, but she was sure that these were the first coherent sentences she had spoken to him recently. And now he was holding…her hand!

„I will lead you, be careful, there’s a lot of backpacks and jackets lying around“ he told her and she couldn’t disagree with that logic. Nope, it made perfect sense...

As they reached the seats, Adrien sat down first and this time she joined him without any hesitation. „I still can’t believe you convinced my dad to let me come“ Adien started, making her blush.

„Yeah, me neither. But I guess, he realized how important it was to us“

„Oui“ He sounded happier now. „Do you want to play a game?“

„Huh?“

Adrien turned on his screen again. „There’s not a huge selection but there are some quiz games on here…alone it’s boring, but maybe it’s more fun playing together“

„Yes“

Marinette had no clue what he was talking about, but a few minutes later they both tried to answer questions of different categories as quickly as possible.

„Wow, I’m dumb“ Adrien said after the first round. „I have only 4/10 correct answers in the geography section“

„Geography is hard“ she reassured him.

„But I selected France, Paris as the main category“ And then she laughed and he laughed too.

„Well, Monsieur Agreste“ she teased him, again surprised about her sudden boldness, „I guess you have no clue where you’re living“

„True, I have not seen so much of Paris after all, haven’t I? If there was a category „My room“ I would win for sure!“ He kept on laughing, but Marinette realized she needed to change the subject.

„Let’s play this word game…it’s in English though“ „Fine, we should practice anyway“

It turned out Marinette excelled in this game and nearly found all the hidden words. „Can you find another one…one is still missing?“ As he didn’t answer, she turned towards him, realizing he was about to fall asleep, his eyes closed and him leaning back into his seat. „Okay... good night, Adrien“

She smiled and thought about getting up but just then the boy unconsciously moved his leg in front of hers. It’s not so bad, being small after all, she thought. All the tall boys had to be much more uncomfortable in the small space than she was. If she got up now, there was a chance she would wake him up. „Mari…?“ Speaking of which…

“Adrien?“ He didn’t seem to be fully awake, murmuring something unintelligibly.

"What?“

„Stay“

Oh…my…

“Please“ he whispered and she felt his weight against her side. He wasn’t heavy and apparently longing for contact, instead of actually falling asleep on her. His little „please“ moved something inside her and she placed his hand on his arm.

„Shh…“

She couldn’t think too much about this, she realized.Therefore she closed her eyes as well, leaning into him as if to hide away from all her fear, her awkwardness and no matter how little sense that made, it worked. Adrien rested his chin on her head, her ear close to his chest, so that she now heard his steady and slow breathing. He felt so much better and warmer with Marinette in his arms.

The motor noises were still just as loud and the air just as dry, but there were by themselves in their little world, blocking out everything around them.

The little timer for the game on the screen showed 0:00 seconds and the score was displayed „You found 9/10 hidden words“ it read. The 10th word is „solace“.” Then after a few moments the screen got dark automatically, because no one had restarted the game.

Adrien shifted in his seat, pulling Marinette closer to him, sighing contently as he felt her wrapping her arms around his waist.

At the same moment, in a different time zone, the sun started rising in Paris.

And Adrien Agreste was finally asleep.

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Thank you for reading! I’m always happy about reviews, here some little things that didn’t make it into the story:

- Marinette sitting on Adrien’s chocolate bar he placed on the seat next to him instead of eating it

- Plagg nearly getting stuck in the ventilation (a drama, really)

- Adrien and Mari sharing headphones to listen to music on the plane (classic to fall asleep or Jagged Stone to have themselves their own little party, your choice)

I hope you like this little story =)

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #miraculous new york special #new york special #miraculous spoilers #miraculous fanfic #adrinette fanfic #adrinette fluff #ML spoilers

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hoodwinkd1 · 3 years ago

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the stars that shine - Ch 3

Ch 2 here.

Chapter 3: I was sixteen when suddenly

“Excuse me, esteemed guests,” the herald called out. “A toast, from Queen Mother Georgina.”

The room silenced quickly, people putting down their dessert forks and picking up their flutes.

Hollin watched his mother rise, fixing her skirts and simpering at the crowd. “My dearest friends, thank you all so much for joining us for such a wonderful evening to celebrate Adarlan’s future.”

They couldn’t all be her dearest friends, could they? Considering Hollin didn’t recognize over half the faces, he highly doubted it.

“The fall harvest has produced more bounty than anyone predicted, so tonight is to celebrate the hard work of our farmers and all those who financially support them.” She paused for a moment, allowing light applause to flutter through the room.

He caught Dorian’s eye. Although the King looked engaged and supportive externally, Hollin could read the boredom oozing from him. They shared a look, both thinking that this dinner couldn’t celebrate farmers if none had been invited.

“And of course,” Georgina continued. “Tonight is celebrating my son as well. Happy birthday, Hollin. May this year provide even more success for you and the kingdom.”

She raised her glass against his, then sat down.

“Thank you,” he muttered, taking a large sip of champagne. “The dinner is...lovely.”

His mother preened. “Oh, of course my dear. Anything for your sixteenth.” She sighed and drank half her glass. “I cannot believe how grown up the two of you are. I remember, oh it feels like yesterday, when you first rode a horse--”

Her closest courtiers leaned in to hear the story, right as Hollin tuned her voice out. Only one glass, and he could sneak off while pretending to “work the room.”

Luckily, Dorian jumped in as soon as the story ended with him falling on a stable boy. “Hollin, would you join me? I spotted some people I should greet.”

His brother had been more supportive than usual in the past two year. After Hollin had begun his training, with a mortifying first lesson, Dorian had quietly stepped in to help. Although the two of them lacked the easy conversation between many siblings, they had come to some sort of arrangement. Hollin could find Dorian whenever he felt overwhelmed, without fearing judgment or scorn.

“Do you think she’s ever met a farmer?” Hollin wondered, as they navigated past tables. “Actually spoken to one before?”

Dorian chuckled. “I always forget how sheltered she’s been as Queen. Even during the damn war, Mother was too far away to interact with any soldiers or common people.”

“So was I.” The words flew out of Hollin’s mouth before he could think.

Dorian stopped walking. “What? You were a child.” He turned his head sharply. “Hollin, you can’t possibly feel guilty for-”

“Your Highnesses!” A family approached them. Hollin recognized the parents as Ladies Bernice and Nerissa Finnick, who oversaw much of the sea commerce in Rifthold, leading three of their children towards the princes.

Nerissa reached out a deep bronze hand. “Excuse the interruption. If you have a moment, Your Majesty, I would like to request a meeting for next week.”

Dorian took her hand and smiled warmly. “Of course. Hollin, have you met the Finnicks yet?”

Maybe his brother didn’t have his back all the time.

“Yes, Anya and I have had some classes together.” He nodded at the middle daughter.

Anya stepped forward as the adults began some boring conversation. “These are my brothers, Galen and Sebastian.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hollin responded, shaking both of their hands. He hated the formality these parties required, since most of his peers treated him quite casually in other settings. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

Galen smiled. “The food was excellent, so I can’t complain.” Hollin had to glance up to look at him, the whole family annoying tall, tan, and beautiful.

“Have you heard any news from Terrasen?” Anya asked. “From Evangeline?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, whether she simply meant to further the conversation or if she wanted a certain piece of information. “Nothing...particular, but the royal family seems to be doing well.”

“Ah, well. I’ve written to her a few times, but she hadn’t mentioned any plans to return. We all miss her so much,” Anya sighed.

Oh. Apparently everyone on this damn planet loved Evangeline and expected them to be best friends.

“I’m sure she knows she’s welcome here anytime.” Hollin took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more guests to greet.”

He was lying, of course. Hollin snuck into the kitchens as soon as he maneuvered past prying eyes, content to finish the evening with another round of dessert and absolutely no more niceties.

---

Thick snow layered Orynth, as it always did in late winter, but the dining room inside the palace was downright toasty. Evangeline’s gaze kept catching on the massive window across from her, the white powder falling down in countless patterns and twists.

“Excuse me, Queen speaking!” Aelin called out, tapping a knife against her champagne flute to command everyone’s attention. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Evangeline started at the interruption, turning away from the snowfall, as Lysandra rolled her eyes from the seat next to her. “Just keep it brief, Galanthynius. Today isn’t about you.”

Aelin pouted for a moment, garnering laughs from the table, then shrugged her shoulders. “Fair point.” The two women shared a grin before she turned to face the larger group.

“Today is about two of my favorite people,” she began. “Lysandra and Evangeline, I am incredibly happy that we all came together to celebrate such happy news.”

Aedion leaned across the table and caught Rowan’s eye. “‘Two of my favorite people’ and we aren’t even included? Pure misandry,” he muttered. The silver-haired Fae chuckled lightly.

“Exactly,” Aelin shot back. “Now hush, male. Eva, even with the most chaotic group of parental figures, has managed to grow into one of the kindest, wisest, and most genuine young women I have ever met. I hope this year brings you joy and fancy jewelry, both of which you deserve plenty of. Happy sixteenth birthday, my darling.”

Evangeline blew her aunt a kiss. She couldn’t put into words what this entire evening meant to her, how unbelievable it was that the Queen and King of Terrasen hosted her birthday dinner. She glanced down the table, smiling at all of the family and friends that looked at her with such love in their eyes.

“Lys,” Aelin continued. “My best friend. You took care of me, and so many other people in this room, when we needed it most, giving you more than enough practice for this next chapter in your life. I think I might actually be more excited than Aedion for this baby.”

Aedion leaned back in his chair. “Not possibly, cousin.”

“Didn’t I already hush you?” Aelin scrunched her nose. Evangeline held back a giggle at their dynamic. “Anyway, I can’t wait to force Adara to befriend your child, just so we all have another excuse to spend time together. Cheers to these two beautiful women.”

“Cheers!” The whole table cried out, glasses clinking and liquid sloshing.

Lysandra tapped her glass of sparkling juice against Evangeline’s. “I’m a bit sad that you get to drink alcohol while I can't. I always imagined sneaking you liquor on a ladies’ night.”

Aedion put down his juice as well. The couple had agreed that if Lys couldn’t drink, neither of them could. “I always wanted to take her to one of the taverns in Rifthold. Watch little Eva drink her first ale while taking men for all their worth in cards.”

“I’m not that good,” Evangeline laughed. “And anyway, this is a very classy way to have my first, proper glass of alcohol.”

“Proper?” Rowan interjected, bouncing the crown princess on his leg. “Does that mean you’ve had an improper drink before?”

Aelin gasped. “My devious little angel”

“No!” Evangeline scrunched her nose. “I just meant, first drink beyond accidental sips and tasting it from your glasses. You’re all horrible.”

Aedion shrugged. “My first drink was when I was fourteen. Stepped off the battlefield and took a very large sip of something disgusting.”

Lysandra patted his knee affectionately. “That’s a terrible story. We probably all had bad experiences during our first time.”

“First time? Lys, you make it sound like something dirty,” Aelin teased. “My first time was quite romantic-”

“Really? Bringing him up at a nice dinner?” Rowan drawled. “In front of our child?”

Evangeline finally stopped trying to hold back her laughter and huge smile. She would miss this family, miss the ease and joy that came with every conversation during her next round of travels.

----

Evangeline all but threw herself onto the lavish bed, too exhausted to even consider taking a bath, though she most definitely needed one. Banjali might be the loveliest city she had ever seen, if not remarkably warm in the early springtime.

She had a week left in Eyllwe, with most of that time spent travelling. Aelin had pulled her aside before her visit, and asked her if she would be prepared for a visit to Calaculla to demonstrate Terrasen’s grief for the horrors committed there. Evangeline, of course, agreed to the detour.

As if to make up for the depressing finish to her stay, the Ytgers’ had ensured her time in the capital city was as happy as possible. The younger crown prince in particular put in the most time and effort to show her around the city. Evangeline didn’t mind, not when Deji was nice enough to look at.

She sat up at the sound of a sharp knock. “Time for dinner,” Fenrys announced from the other side.

“I haven’t had any time to change!” Evangeline protested, scrambling towards the vanity, eyes widening in shock at the state of her hair. “I thought we had an hour!”

She didn’t love that this trip was chaperoned, but Lysandra and Aedion had insisted. The ship would travel past Skulls Bay, a place where Aelin had apparently made more enemies than friends.

“We would have had an hour, if you didn’t stop for cake on the walk back.” Fenrys opened the door carefully. “Can I come into the sitting room?”

“Ugh!” Evangeline huffed, pulling her hair out of its braids. She walked over to the entrance of her bedchamber and slammed the door between them shut. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

She could hear him pacing around. “If we get any snide remarks for being late, I’m tattling on you to Aedion.”

Evangeline stuck her tongue out, although he couldn’t see her. She didn’t have time for a proper reply.

Seventeen minutes later, the two of them walked down to one of the smaller dining rooms. The Queen stood at the entrance, looking impeccable as always. Evangeline looked...passable, clothed in a fresh, crimson dress and golden hair somewhat brushed.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she greeted. “I hope we aren’t late.”

The Queen waved her off. “Tonight is a rather small affair, do not fret. Lord Fenrys, I hope you don’t mind that we planned on separating the children from the adults tonight? The boys have a couple friends with them and they do hate it when we eavesdrop.”

Fenrys puffed his chest a bit at the use of his title. “Perfectly fine by me. Assuming you can handle yourself, Lady Evangeline?”

“Of course,” she responded, her polite tone at odds with the elbow she shoved into his side when the Queen turned to lead them in.

Kharis, the elder prince, walked up to them. “Good evening. May I escort you in?” He offered up his arm, which Evangeline took with one last wave to the adults.

He steered her towards another door that he opened to reveal a room with a much smaller table. She was met with four pairs of eyes, only one of which she recognized.

“This is Lady Evangeline, from Terrasen,” Kharis announced.

“Oh please, just Eva,” she insisted. “Pleased to meet you.”

One of the girls stepped forward. “I’m Athaliah, and these are my siblings, Jethro and Phebe.”

They all took their seats then, and luckily, conversation flowed easily. The three of them were not nobility, but their grandmother had served with the Queen’s father. Evangeline didn’t quite understand how he had managed to get his daughter on the throne after an alleged rebellion against the former King, but she didn’t think it polite to ask.

Phebe and Deji seemed to have some special connection, joking on a level that suggested intimacy. Evangeline forced herself to feel any sort of disappointment at their banter. Even if she thought he had flirted with her, nothing actually happened.

“Would you like a drink?” The boy of her thoughts interrupted the conversation Evangeline was currently having with Athaliah. “We nicked some spiced wine.”

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. Deji handed her a glass, seating himself next to her on the couch.

“Where will you go next?” Athaliah asked, continuing on. “Back to Terrasen?”

Evangeline nodded. “My ward, Lord Darrow, is expecting me back in a few weeks. We have some additional time, but quite honestly, I’m excited to sleep in a familiar bed again.”

“Our accommodations aren’t good enough for you?” Deji teased.

Evangeline scrunched her nose at him. “Of course not! But I am unaccustomed to this heat so early in the year.”

Jethro called for his sister, the others beginning to play a card game of sorts. She left them alone on the couches, Evangeline scrambling for something to keep the conversation going.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

Perfect. “How far is this ‘something’?” Evangeline brought the glass to her lips, enjoying the slow buzz of the wine.

Deji stood, holding out his free hand. “Not far. I wouldn’t dare make you walk for too long in this heat.”

She followed him out of the room, down the hall, and towards a large balcony that she hadn’t noticed before. He held open the opaque doors, gesturing for her to step out first.

Evangeline let out a small gasp at the view. From this angle, the ocean seemed endless, and the moon looked close enough to touch. Large, swaying trees framed the water’s edge. The entire scene glittered with starlight, more real than a painting, yet more beautiful than real life.

“This is...unbelievable.”

Deji leaned against the stone railing. “It’s my favorite view, especially at night. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see and hear the ocean most days.”

Evangeline joined him on the railing. “You might have ruined me as well. I’ll miss this dearly back home.”

They glanced over each other at the same time, bringing a heated blush to her face. His skin was too dark to show it, but she prayed she wasn’t alone in this feeling.

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted out, then immediately covered her mouth with her free hand. Oh gods, she might as well fling herself from the balcony now. Evangeline wanted to blame the wine, but truthfully, one drink hadn’t clouded her judgement at all. “I’m so sorry, that was--”

Deji cut her off, grabbing her hand gently and holding it in his own. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you.”

He leaned in then, pressing his lips against hers. Evangeline’s eyes fluttered shut, experimentally deepening the kiss and moving her mouth against his.

It was sweet, if not a bit clumsy and filled with nervous giggling. Everything a first kiss should be.

----

Dorian found him in the training ring, one morning. Hollin wanted to get reacquainted with walking up earlier, now that spring had arrived and the afternoons would soon be too warm for exercise.

"Do you need something?" he huffed, talking a second to chug some water. The endurance circuit was quite honestly kicking his ass.

His brother shrugged. "I feel bad that I didn't warn you last time, so I'm telling you in advance now. Evangeline and Fenrys Moonbeam will be staying in the palace for a few days on their way back from Eyllwe, arriving in one week."

Hollin spun on his heel, pretending to grab a towel to keep his face hidden. "It's a bit last minute for royal guests, isn't it?"

Dorian sighed. "They're dear friends, not courtiers. Perhaps we could do a more casual dinner, allow you the chance to get to know both of them better. I'm sure Fenrys would offer to train you a bit as well."

"Is that the purpose behind their visit? Give me training with a feared Fae warrior?" Hollin didn't cover the sarcasm in his tone.

"No, I believe Eva wanted to see her friends here, something she doesn't regularly get a chance to do. Are you done with the questions?"

"Yes. Fine. Whatever." He pushed himself up, abandoning the towel. A bath would do nicely for his aching muscles. "Add the required events to my schedule."

Dorian mumbled something under his breath, but thankfully turned to leave. Right before he re-entered the main hallway, he called out: "It wouldn't hurt you to have friends!"

"I have two!" Hollin called back. "Who needs more than that?"

#tog #throne of glass #fanfic #hollin havilliard #evangeline tog #dorian #eyllwe #sjm #sarah j maas #fic

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter Ten: To Home and Friendship

(Images are not mine)

Rated: PG

~With every small disaster I'll let the waters still Take me away to some place real

'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone Is where you go when you're alone Is where you go to rest your bones It's not just where you lay your head It's not just where you make your bed As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?~

Home.

That wasn't a word I was used to. Not anymore.

"I stand by what I said earlier, Jack. You make an excellent pillo― Oh holy crap."

I gasped as Jack lead me inside the literal bunker that these guys apparently lived in. I wondered if I would ever get used to it, because their bunker was enormous.

We entered through a non-descript entrance, that nobody would have noticed, onto a platform that was less of a balcony and more of a catwalk which I guessed was the second floor, though I couldn't tell exactly because it was a bunker and it probably had more levels than I could see. The wrought iron railing of the balcony was formed into a design of circles atop rectangles. The catwalk ended with a set of steel stairs that curved with the wall.

My feet clanged on the metal as I descended the stairwell. At the bottom of those stairs on my right was a doorway that led somewhere else and on my left was what I guessed was the entryway. There was a big glowy-table-thing with a map on it in the center of the space, surrounded by several chairs. There was this big, greenish panel thingy attached to one of the tan tiled walls that looked like some sort of old timey computer equipment. Through a big gray archway, I could see into another room that looked like a library with a huge telescope at the end of it. On the far left of the room there was another hallway going off somewhere else. Dean stepped off the staircase and spread his arms out.

"Welcome to the Batcave!" He said, grinning. "I see you're impressed." Only then did I realize my mouth was hanging open. I closed it and shook my head.

"This place is colossal," I said in awe.

"Yeah, it's a little pretentious but you get used to it." Sam shrugged, passing me. Jack just stood over my shoulder, watching my reaction.

"True, but if you want protection, this is about the safest place in the world. It's got warding against every evil thing out there. Vampires, werewolves, demons, ghosts, you name it," Dean boasted. Just then, Isaac appeared on the catwalk, as far from us as he could.

"Ha! Then how did I get in here genius!" He jeered. It took every last drop of will power I had not to facepalm right then and there. It was warm in here and the hunters would certainly notice a sudden temperature drop. Was Isaac trying to get us discovered? (I'd say killed but he's already dead.)

"Yep, nothing gets in here unless we let it. Or, you know, bring it in accidentally." Sam shared a look with Cas and his older brother.

"Scooby-dooby-doo!" Dean laughed, shaking his head. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the story behind that or not. Meanwhile Isaac wore a sheepish expression.

"Oh, guess that’s how I got in then." Words cannot express how much I wanted to kick my brother at that moment. After he was finished laughing, Dean looked to Jack.

"Kid, you take Mcfly here, find her a room, get her all settled, then give her the grand tour. I'm gonna hit the sack." Dean turned on his heel with a wave and whistled his way out of the room. Castiel mumbled something about research and crossed through the arch into the library.

"We're gonna find the monster that took your family away, Marty. But until then, think of us as your new one." I looked up at Sam and was reminded again of how huge the guy was. His head was in a totally different weather system than mine and I wondered if it was harder to breathe all the way up there.

"Thanks Sam." I took three steps higher on the stairs and made grabby hands at him. "Come here."

Sam raised an eyebrow at me but obeyed anyway. I took a tiny jump and wrapped my arms around his neck. He stumbled back a bit in surprise but quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around me with a chuckle.

"Shut up, Gigantor. I gotta hug ya’ somehow!" I rebuked, defending my height... Or rather, the lack thereof. I guess his laughter was justified though. My feet were dangling at least a foot from the floor. I let go of him and dropped back to the ground, it felt like falling off Mount Everest. Sam just shook his brown mane, smiling down at me.

"If there's anything you need, like help reaching the top shelf, just ask." I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, whatever Sasquatch. So, what are you gonna do?" I asked. Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

"Put my stuff away. Then I'm gonna go reorganize the pantry, make sure you can reach the cereal," He smirked, and followed Dean's path through the other door-way.

"Way to rub it in, Sam!" I called after him. I heard him chuckle as he rounded the corner out of my sight. Then I rounded on Jack, who had been waiting patiently. "Well, Jack, if you wanna make fun of my height, now's the time to do it. Lead on!" I opened my arms, preparing for insults.

"It is rare that I get to feel tall, but I'm not going to make fun of you," He said, turning on his heel to lead me through the door-way behind us.

"Good. Cause' I might have slapped you if ya had." Jack looked back at me questioningly, but I just shrugged.

I followed him through twisting and turning hallways that I knew I wouldn't be memorizing anytime soon. We kept walking for what seemed like forever. Honestly, I was ninety-eight percent convinced that we might pass a sign that said: 'Now Entering Nebraska.' It didn't help that all the halls looked exactly the same.

"Back at the motel, the night we met, Dean said you had this thing," Jack remarked, turning to face me and walking backward.

"What thing?" I asked.

"I think he called it ‘A Napoleon Complex' or something like that," Jack said, innocently. I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.

"And do you know what that is?"

"No. I haven't looked it up yet. Do you know?" I snorted.

"Oh, yeah. I know," I said. Already thinking of a comeback for the next time I saw Dean.

"What is it?" Jack was simply curious. I smirked at him.

"Do you know who Napoleon was?" I asked him, I was pretty sure of the answer.

"No." Just as I thought. The Winchesters needed to teach their half-angel some history. As for now though, I could give him the watered-down version.

"Napoleon was a French dude, not to be confused with the ice-cream. He was five foot six and when people called him short, he blew them up." I told him. Jack nodded seriously.

"I see, so he was insecure about his height and used violence to compensate for it. Then, the complex was named after him." I had to give it to him, the kid was smart.

"Yep. Never mind the fact that he took over almost all of Europe, he will always be famous for being a human chihuahua." I had to at least teach Jack something remotely accurate. Jack frowned and his eyebrows pulled together as if remembering something unpleasant. I guessed he had come into contact with a chihuahua before, it didn't look like he was fond of them.

"So, Dean thinks you're insecure about your height," Said Jack, returning us to the original topic.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Are you?" I shrugged.

"Not really. I'm just obnoxious." Jack laughed, coming to a stop in front of a black door that looked just the same as the rest that lined the hall except for the plaque with the number 22 etched into it.

"This is my room," He said. "And that's Sam's." He pointed to the door on the left of his which had a 21 on it. "You can pick any of these other rooms." His eyes flicked to the door next to his on the right, room 24. I briefly wondered what had happened to 23. When I met his eyes, he looked at his feet, as if his shoes were much more interesting than me.

"Does anyone live in here?" I tapped the door with 24 on it.

"No, it's empty but you don't have to take that one if you don't want to." Jack glued his eyes to the polished cement floor and ran his hand through his hair, a tick I was sure he picked up from Sam.

"Why wouldn't I want to?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and putting my hands on my hips. I watched as a pink tint started to creep up Jack's neck.

"I don't want you to think that you have to stay in that one just because I want you too," He muttered.

"You want me to stay next to you?" I pointed out. Jack's expression went blank, his eyes wide as quarters.

"Um, I-I-I don't- I didn't mean--" Jack stumbled over his words. His gaze drilled straight into the floor, his hands were fidgeting, and his right foot twisted its toe against the concrete. His body language pointed at nervousness. Why was he this nervous? Was it me? He hadn't been this way before, what was different now? I decided to ease his nerves with a little humor. I stuck my hand into his line of sight and waved.

"Yoo, hoo! I'm up here, Jack." He flicked his eyes up to my face but kept his head down. "Well, not up per-say but you know what I mean," I joked. His smile was still pointed at the concrete. I guessed we'd just have to work on that.

"S-sorry." His laugh was a breathy one. I sighed, planting my hands on my hips.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jack. It's nice to have someone who wants me around, I haven't had that in a long time." I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly way. Jack rocked back and forth on his heels and his mouth did that crooked smile of his. He even flicked his eyes up at me.

"Well, uh, what are friends for?" He sounded like he was reciting something he heard in a movie.

I wondered whether Jack was trying to flirt with me or not. A tiny part of me hoped that he was and another part of me kicked myself for hoping for that. How could I think that way? Jack was two, he was probably too young to understand feelings like that, if he even had them. He probably didn't have them. He was probably just doing his best to make a friend, by going off what he had seen. I mean, the movies are pretty against a boy and a girl simply being friends. Besides if he knew what I was, he wouldn't be standing here talking to me. He'd be trying to kill me. Isaac was right. Any friendship I made here, would never be real. It never could be.

"Right," I said softly. Now I was the one looking down at my feet. But I wasn't doing it out of nerves. I was doing it out of shame. Glancing up at him through my lashes, Jack's smile faltered for only a moment. He grasped the doorknob and turned it and as the door swung inward, Jack flipped a switch and the white florescent lights buzzed to life.

The room was simply decorated, and by that I mean it wasn't decorated at all. The walls, ceiling, and floor were grey and a built-in shelf stuck out from the far wall. In the center of the space sat a full-size bed with a plain white duvet, white sheets, and down pillows. There was a dresser pushed up against one wall, a desk pressed against the other, and a tiny night stand next to the bed, all of which were fashioned out of wood the shade of walnut.

"Um, it's not much, but we can get you some stuff to make it yours," Jack smirked down at me and I ducked past him into the room.

Other than those objects, the room was bare, but I found myself overwhelmed. My chest tightened and my eyes stung, it was so little, but it was more than I'd had in five years. I shrugged my backpack off my shoulders and placed my violin case on the bed. Keeping my back turned, my face hidden from Jack, I blinked rapidly to dispel my tears.

"It's wonderful, Jack. I-I love it." I took a deep breath and pasted a smirk on my face. When I had control of my emotions, I swung back to face him. "Now, how bout' that grand tour?" Jack's brows pushed together.

"Don't you want to put your things away, first?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Nah, I can do that anytime. This place is pretty awesome, I wanna see it all!" I grinned at him, pressing all the excitement I could muster into my voice. Jack grinned back.

"Well, um, what would you like to see first?"

"No idea! What's your favorite room?" Jack's eyes flicked to the side as he thought about his answer for a moment.

"The kitchen," He decided. His seriousness made me chuckle.

"I like the way you think. You lead, I'll follow!" This time, instead of smiling at the concrete, Jack smiled at my shoes! We were making good progress. Now if I could get him to smile at my face, then we would really be getting somewhere.

Jack swung around on his heel and walked about four paces before opening a door on the other side of the hall. This one was labeled with 23. 'So that's where it went.' I thought, as Jack pushed the door open and walked through. Inside was the kitchen. It wasn't the kind you have at home. No, this was one of those industrial sort of kitchens, all polished steel and florescent lighting. (The buzzing of those light bulbs was extremely annoying, but I would just have to get used to it.)

There were pots and pans everywhere. Any sort of cook where you could imagine was in there, hanging on racks, dangling from hooks, sitting on shelves, or habitually left on the stove. What looked like easily one hundred white plates were stacked neatly on the shelves of the giant stainless-steel island that dominated the space. Two ovens, stood side-by-side in a little nook, one of which had a griddle attached to the top. Hovering over the two ovens were large vents of gleaming steel.

To the right of the cooking station was the preparation area and a sink as big as your average tub. I'm not kidding. The thing was gargantuan. Above that monstrosity of a kitchen sink sat an array of porcelain cups, and a tissue box, on a shelf. To the right of that, there sat a large stainless steel shelving unit that was home to various cooking supplies and four white drawers in the middle.

On the far wall, was a brown bulletin board decorated with various notes, covered in scribbles and sketches, tacked to it. Beneath the bulletin was a table crafted from some dark colored wood, that was either oak or mahogany, and was attached to the wall. Affixed to the table were eight stool-like seats constructed from the same dark material as the table itself. Directly to the right side of the door, was a coat rack and six small lockers stacked vertically. The right wall was an archway and set of stairs that lead off into a hallway branching to the right and a different set of stairs to the left.

As I peered around to the left side of the door and past another steel shelf, I laid eyes upon what could only be the freezer/refrigerator combo. It was this enormous floor-to-ceiling white panel with five varying sized doors built into it. The far most door on the right was taller than me so I assumed that was the refrigerator and the other four doors were freezers. Why one would need four freezers, I had no idea, but I found myself liking the concept. Now that I had finished taking in the grossly oversized kitchen, I whirled to Jack and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. I stared him dead in the eyes.

"This. Place. Is. Awesome." I pointed at the refrigerator. "Five bucks says I could fit in there!" Jack's gaze followed my finger and he nodded.

"I think you could," He said. I took another glance around the space. I couldn't help it. The laugh bubbled up from my stomach, filled my chest, and bloomed in my throat. It had been a long, long, long, time since I had laughed like that.

"I went from having nothing, to living in this place! This is amazing!" I flung my arms around Jack. It was quite the feat on my part to refrain from crushing his ribs. I was so excited I could hardly contain it. I was bouncing up and down on my toes like a little girl! Though I guess, in the eyes of Jack and the others, that’s sort of what I was.

"I'm glad you like it!" Jack said, grinning.

"I don't like it, Jack. I love it!" I exclaimed. My stomach growled like an angry bear, just being in here was making me hungry. "Hey, as long as we're here, got anything good to eat? I'm starving!" That last bit was nothing new, I was always starving these days, always craving. But I was never craving food. Jack's throat suddenly looked extremely tasty. Thankfully, his voice broke me away from that train of thought.

"I like ice-cream," He said, brightly.

"Jack?”

"Hm?"

"We are gonna be awesome friends."

No, home wasn't a word I was used to. Not anymore. But I realized with a start, that for the first time in five years, I had one. A real one.

It looked like I was gonna have to get used to it.

Jack knelt down and opened the door on the bottom left of the freezer/refrigerator combo that I then dubbed 'The Wall of Cold Stuff'. He reached in, grabbed a tub of ice cream, then stood and kicked the door shut.

"The bowls are down there and the spoons are in the top left drawer," He said, pointing to the shelf in the back. I made my way over and grabbed two of each. We both sat at the table, across from each other, and Jack served up the ice cream. I then got the chance to glance at the ice cream's label. It was chocolate-chip-cookie-dough.

"This is my favorite flavor. What's yours?" I asked him, shoveling ice cream into my mouth and moaning as the sugary goodness coated my tongue. Jack must have found that funny because he ducked his head and laughed.

"I don't know. This one is pretty good, but I love the mint and brownie ones as well," He told me. I had noticed that Jack always took great care to think about his answers before he gave them. He took and asked every question seriously. I got the feeling that Jack was the sort of person who's curiosity was never satisfied.

"I can vibe with that," I agreed. Jack's brows furrowed, he placed his spoon down on the table, folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that means. Could you explain it?" He asked. I liked the way he behaved when he was curious about something, Jack just dropped everything to learn and focused entirely on whatever it was he was trying to understand. Right now, that thing was me. I found that I didn't mind his undivided attention.

"Oh, um, it means that you agree with something somebody said. Its like saying 'you're right' or 'I agree with you' or 'that's cool'," I explained. Jack nodded.

"I think I understand." I gave him a thumbs up and scooped another spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth, closing my eyes and savoring the flavor with a deep sigh.

"You know, it's been five years since I last had ice cream," I said. Jack froze his ice cream eating with his spoon still stuck in his mouth, his expression morphing into one of horror and pity.

"That's awful!" He said, he'd removed the spoon, but his mouth was still full of the dessert, "No one should have to go without ice cream for that long!"

"My friend, you are absolutely right," I replied, pointing my spoon at him. "Here's to ice cream and sugar highs!" I tapped my bowl with the spoon and Jack copied me, albeit somewhat confused as to what I was doing. Speaking of sugar highs, I could already feel one building up already. It had been way too long since I'd had this much sugar.

"Marty?" Jack wanted my attention.

"Hm?"

"I had a dream about you last night," He said, changing the subject. I stared up at him, pulling my spoon out of my mouth.

"Should I be worried?"

"No."

"What was I doing in this dream of yours?" I asked, straining to keep the nervousness that was building in my chest out of my voice. Jack frowned, picking at his ice cream.

"You said-- You told me you were dangerous and I shouldn't trust you, that you're hiding something."

I bit my lip, my eyes widening with shock. I struggled to keep calm and natural, my reactions could give me away. Just as I'd settled my expression, Jack looked up. "I can trust you, right?" I smiled as genuinely as I could, which was difficult to do with his gaze piercing into my soul like it was.

"Of course, you can! I may be clever but I'm not exactly diabolical," I said, giving my best laugh. Jack smiled and nodded, though I got the notion that he was reassuring himself more than anything. If he was going to say something else, he never got the chance because at that moment, Sam strolled into the room.

He stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of us at the table. Our heads snapped up at the same time and we froze. Jack had his spoonful halfway to his mouth and mine was already there. The three of us just stared at each other for a moment but Sam was the first to react.

"Come on guys, really?! It's six A.M.!" He exclaimed. I shrugged, removing the spoon from my mouth and pointing it at him.

"AM, PM. What's the difference? Live a little!" With that comment alone, Sam figured he wouldn't be getting anywhere with me, so he turned to Jack.

"Jack, come on, be an example." Jack glanced at his spoonful of dessert and shoved in in his mouth, quickly.

"Technically," He pointed out, directing his spoon at me, "She's older than me!"

"Hey!" I protested.

"What?"

"This was your idea!"

Jack shrugged. "I know, but you agreed. I was just stating a fact," he said. Sam sighed, shaking his head. The two of us turned our attention back to him.

"Jack, throw it away and put the container back in the freezer. If you want ice cream, you can have it at dinner. Not at six in the morning," He scolded. Jack swallowed his mouthful of ice cream.

"But Sam, look at how happy she is! Marty hasn't had ice cream for five years!" He tried. I nodded vigorously to emphasize the point.

"It's true, Sam. You only live once!" I said, shoving another bite of ice cream in my mouth. Sam's eyes flicked back and forth between us.

"Fine. Just this once," He sighed.

"Thanks Sam!" Jack and I grinned.

"Yeah, whatever." Sam rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, but I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. When he was gone, Jack sighed with relief.

"I take it you do this a lot," I said to him. He looked at the ice cream with a guilty expression.

"I wouldn't say a lot."

"But often enough for him not to be surprised?"

"Yeah." Jack grinned sheepishly.

"Does he always catch you?" I asked him.

"Every time, yes."

We finished our ice cream and put our dishes in the sink. Then, Jack proceeded to show me the rest of the bunker. Sometimes I would ask about what was in few of the rooms and he would reply with an 'I don't know' or a few times a rather disturbing 'You don't want to know'. To say that his cryptic warning had no effect on me would be a lie. He spoke the words in a light hearted way that just made me more worried. So, I tried to push any speculations as to the contents of those rooms from my mind but kept step slightly closer to Jack from then on.

He showed me a garage full of a bunch of old-timey cars that I found myself figuratively drooling over, a room full of antique electronic equipment he told me not to touch, an impressive gym with an adjacent shower room, an infirmary, a shooting range that looked like a lot of fun, something they called the 'War Room' which was where the glowy table was, the extensive library, and an alcove with an gigantic telescope that Jack claimed nobody could figure out how to use. According to him, the glowy table in the war room could supposedly track monsters, but the Winchesters weren't sure how to use it. Much to my relief.

Jack also showed me a room where I immediately knew I would be spending most of my time. Jack rather confusedly referred to it as 'The Dean Cave'. I later noticed the paper sign tacked on the back of the door that was labeled with said name. Inside there was a flat screen TV, two recliners, a bar that I'd never use, a foosball table which I would definitely use, a record-playing jukebox that I hoped had some decent tunes, and a shelf full of books. The whole room was lit by these cool red and blue lights that looked to be made out of beer kegs. This was a place I could get used to.

"Jack, I think I found my second favorite room," I said, trailing my fingers along the rim of the foosball table.

"You'll have to ask Dean if you can use the T.V. he and Sam are still trying to figure it out." Jack sat cross-legged on one of the ugly plaid recliners.

"Remind me to help em' with that. I'm tech-y," I replied, walking over to observe the jukebox. I didn't know most of the titles displayed on the devices list of records, but my eyes landed on one that I'd know even if it was written in Chinese. "Oh my gosh! Jack, how do I use this thing?!" I squealed, excitedly. Jack hopped up to help me.

"You turn this knob to select which one you want, then you press this button to start it," He explained. I followed his instructions and watched the machine grab the record and put it on that spinning thing before it dropped the needle. I grinned ear to ear as sweet music filled the air.

~Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn't have to wait so long And wouldn't it be nice to live together In the kind of world where we belong?~

"What's this one called?" Jack asked over the notes.

"Wouldn't it be nice, by The Beach Boys! It's one of my favorites!" I was surprised that it was here considering Dean's bias when it came to music.

~You know it's gonna make it that much better When we can say goodnight and stay together~

"I dare you to sing along, Jack-Jack." I grinned and nudged his shoulder.

"No thank you," He said, shaking his head with a pleasant smile.

~Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up In the morning when the day is new? And after having spent the day together Hold each other close the whole night through~

"Awww! Why not?"

"I don't know the words." He shrugged.

~Happy times together we've been spending I wish that every kiss was never ending Oh, wouldn't it be nice?~

"Fine!" I sighed in over dramatic disappointment, flopping onto one of the recliners. "But that excuse is only gonna work once!"

Jack chuckled, leaning his arms on the back of the recliner to look down at me. "I guess I better come up with more excuses then!"

~Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray It might come true Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do Oh, we could be married (oh, we could be married) And then we'd be happy (and then we'd be happy) Oh, wouldn't it be nice?~

"You can't evade me forever," I declared, kicking my feet back and forth to the beat of the song.

"True," Jack agreed, nodding. "But I can try."

"And try you will, young Skywalker," I said.

"I like Star Wars!" Jack noted, suddenly seeming to shift from being older than me to younger by about five years. It was an odd thing to watch.

"Who doesn't?"

~Goodnight, my baby Sleep tight, my baby Goodnight, my baby Sleep tight, my baby~

The music faded away but I maintained eye contact with Jack in a spontaneous staring contest. Why? Because, naturally the first one to break was a weakling and I was not going to take that title on my first day with these people.

"Is this a staring contest?" Jack asked, tilting his head a bit. He didn't blink.

"Indeed. We maintained eye contact for longer than twenty-eight seconds, so it's obligatory," You replied, still refusing to blink.

"I did not know that those were the rules," Jack said, sounding somewhat confused.

"Well, they're not. That's just how my family always played." You were quick to clear your throat and rid your tone of any sadness that slipped past your defenses.

"Oh, I see."

"I take it you two are having fun."

"Agh!" I shot up from my reclined position in shock and whipped to the doorway where I took in the sight of Castiel standing just outside the door frame, the ghost of a smile visible on his otherwise expressionless face. How long had he been watching? Embarrassment warmed my cheeks and I hoped we hadn't looked like idiots.

"Hey Cas! I don't know about Jack, but I'm having the time of my life!" I said. Then I turned to Jack. "Whattdya' say, buddy? Am I torturing you?"

"I've been tortured before, this isn't anything close to what that was like! Don't worry, Marty. You're a lot of fun." He stated, matter-of-factly. My eyes went wide and I tilted my head at him. I mean, what was I even supposed to say to something like that? "Oh, and you I won the staring contest." I found myself nodding slowly.

"Well, good for you. And that's got to be the weirdest complement I think I've ever gotten, but I'll take it." Jack grinned at me in his lopsided way and I turned my attention back to the other angel in the room. "Any particular reason for this visit or were ya just passing?"

"Sam asked me to check up on you two," Cas answered.

"Alright. Well, I was just about to ask Jack to help me find my way back to my room."

Cas simply nodded and walked off.

"So, why do you like that song so much?" Jack inquired as we strode back through the endless identical hallways.

"It was in one of my mom's favorite movies so she was always singing it. I love the tune as well and sometimes, when I'm sad, the words make me feel better," I answered. Jack frowned.

"I don't understand song lyrics. They never make sense to me."

"Would you like me to explain it to you?"

"Yes." Jack nodded and once again gave me all his attention.

"So, that song is about two young people who feel like they're living their lives stuck in place. There's so much they want to do but everybody says they're just to young to do it. They feel like they've outgrown the stage of life that they're in and they just want to move on. By being stuck where they are, they're afraid they'll miss their opportunity for happiness. So they dream about a day when they'll finally be free to do whatever they want, even if they that day may never come around." My thoughtful tone surprised me.

I hadn't meant to put so much of my own emotion into my explanation of the lyrics. If I kept on like this, the hunters would figure me out in no time. But there was just something about Jack, about the way he listened to my every word, that made me want to tell him everything about everything. I was weak around him. He made me let my guard down. I'd have to learn how to keep it up if I wanted to survive.

"Do you feel stuck sometimes?" Jack asked. His tone was sincere but his expression gave me no clues a s to what he was hoping to learn from his question. I nodded.

"I used to feel like I was living a loop, like every day was the same. It sucked." I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. "But then four weirdos in an Impala showed up and my life is finally moving again!"

~With every small disaster I'll let the waters still Take me away to someplace real

Cause' they say home is where your heart is set in stone Its where you go when you're alone Its where you go to rest your bones Its not just where you lay your head Its not just where you make your bed As long as we're together does it matter where we go?~

Lyrics from: Home by Jasmine Thompson

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atomic-taco-muffin · 3 years ago

Text

Kingdom High Chapter 2

Warnings: same as the last chapter

Rating: SFW

Once upon a time... In a far away land, all eyes were on Apple as she made the most important declaration of her life.

“I am Apple White, daughter of Snow White, and I am ready to pledge my destiny,” She said. The students cheered for her. Suddenly everything froze.

Of course you'd start with Apple, always playing favorites. Start at the beginning of the school year.

Oh, fine. Gather round, friends, and let us tell you a story: the story of Ever After High, a high school for the teenage sons and daughters of the most famous fairy tale characters who ever lived. But this year was like no other for the students of Ever After High. Apple's Tale, the story of a Royal.

For it is the year of the Legacy Day; a momentous event where the students pledge to all the magical world to follow the same paths as their fairy tale parents. Apple and Briar were chatting and walking to the school.

“I can't believe it. Legacy Day happens this year and there's just ever so much to do!” Apple said.

“Totally, right! I mean this year's after party is gonna be a page ripper! I heard DJ N-Chant is gonna—” Briar said. Apple ran in front of Briar.

“Briar, it's not just about the party. This is destiny! Future queen! We can't let anyone post embarrassing pictures of us on MyChapter,” Apple said.

“Hey! Daughter of Sleeping Beauty. If I'm gonna be catching Z's for a hundred years, I gotta live it up now! Hm, and come on, no one would post anything bad about you!” Briar said as the two of them walked up the steps.

“Everybody loves you!” Briar said.

“It’s Apple White!” a pig swooned. A prince sighed, dreamily.

“Gorgeous!” Lilly-Bo Peep said. Her sheep bleated happily.

“Can I carry your books?” Tiny asked as he stepped in.

“Why, Tiny! Aren't you the sweetest little thing?” Apple said. She gave her books to him.

“Thank you!” She said.

“See? They love you! Oh-oh!” Briar said as she held Apple’s hands.

“I don't wanna miss a minute of our first day,” she said. Briar walked away to say hi to the other students.

“Hi, everybody! Hey, what's up? Howdy!” she said. In the distance was Daring Charming, standing alone with a hand over his mouth and laughing.

“Hey, Prince Daring! Um, why are you holding your hand over your mouth?” Apple said as she walked up to him.

“Well, you see, I just got my teeth whitened and Headmaster Grimm said I can't show people, 'cause...” Daring said.

“But your smile is so charming!”

“Well, you know...” He flashed his smile and it blinded Tiny.

“Ah! My eyes! I can't see! Ah!” Tiny said as he fell down.

“I’m okay!” he said. Daring and Apple giggled.

“Apple! Daring!” Blondie said. She giggled as Daring clicked his fingers.

“So, any juicy dating details for my Mirror Cast show?” she asked as she opened her MirrorPad.

“Talk to the Mirror!” she said as she pointed it at Apple.

“Ah, Blondie! Daring and I are still not a couple! This is high school,” Apple said. She held Daring’s hand.

“We've got forever after to be together!” she said.

“But you two are the perfect couple. Not too this, not too that, you're just right!” Blondie said.

“Come on, Apple, let's go get some lunch. Charm you later!” Daring said. He flashed his smile at Blondie and she covered her face. He and Apple walked away.

“Oh! Oh-ah!” Blondie giggled as she walked away.

And so that night, back in the Ever After dorms, Apple had a surprise waiting for her new roommate.

“You think Raven's gonna like this?” Briar asked. Apple ran over to her.

“Of course! What future Evil Queen wouldn't love an evil throne, an evil crown, and an evil haunted mirror?” Apple said.

“True. Huh. But why are you doing this for Raven?” Briar said.

“Because she's such an important part of my story! When she poisons me, it changes everything. Then the prince can wake me, and I become queen.” Apple held Briar’s hands.

“That's when I get my Happily Ever After,” she said as she winked.

“I need her!”

“Hey! Maddie?” Raven said from outside.

“Quick! Hide! I don't want Raven to know you helped me,” Apple said.

“I'll go out the window. I've never done that before,” Briar said as she ran over to the window.

“Ha ha!” she said as she jumped out the window.

“Wheeeeeee...!” she said. Apple turned around when Raven opened the door.

“Welcome home, roomie!” she said.

“Huh, good one, Apple. I'm rooming with Maddie this year,” Raven said.

“Not anymore!” Apple shook her head confidently.

“Huh?” Raven asked.

“Man! I am good-looking!” Daring said as he held out his hands.

“ ...eeeeee! Oh!” Briar said. Daring had caught her in his arms.

“Daring? How'd you know I was gonna be here?” Briar asked.

“Catching damsels in distress:” Daring said as he dropped Briar.

“It's kinda my thing,” he said.

“Well, that was A TOTAL RUSH!” Briar said as she stood up and ran back.

“Stay here! I'm going again,” she laughed and Daring readied his arms. In Book End, Briar and Apple were walking together.

“Hey, you wanna get a hocus latte?” Briar asked.

“Oh, that sounds magical. I love mine with nutmeg. How do you like yours?” Apple said.

“Oh, I like a-lot-a-lot-a-lot-a-lot of cream.” The two giggled together and they found Ashlynn at the front of her shoe store.

“Hey!” Ashlynn said.

“Hi, Ashlynn!” Apple said.

“Wanna go on a nature hike later? I haven't been in the woods in days and it just feels so good to get back to what really matters.”

“I got a shipment here; a three hundred new shoes for the Glass Slipper,” the delivery goose said.

“New! Shoes! Ahhh haha! Where?!” Ashlynn said. The delivery goose pointed to the sky and more delivery geese flew by with several packages. They dropped them below and Ashlynn caught all of them.

“It's a shoe thing!” Briar said.

“Well, she is Cinderella's daughter!” Apple said. Briar nodded in agreement. Suddenly the bell rang.

“Ooh, time for our Legacy Day rehearsal. I can't wait for everyone to get a glimpse of the queen I am going to become,” Apple said. Briar followed Apple but accidentally caught a shoe box falling from above. Ashlynn snatched it out of her hands while catching hundreds of boxes. Back at school, some students were gathered together for their Legacy Day rehearsal.

But what Apple didn't know was that Raven Queen had other plans...

That would change the world for the better.

For the worse!

“So, when your magical key appears, you insert it gently into the Storybook of Legends, then stand; shoulders back, and declare your destiny to the world! Have I made myself clear?” Headmaster Grimm said.

“But what if...” Raven asked as she held up a finger.

“No questions? Good. Who will go first?” Apple inched forward and raised her hand.

“Oh! Me! Me! Me! Em! Ah! Uh! Uh!” she said.

“Step right this way,” Grimm said. Apple took the key in his hand.

“My future queen,” Grimm said as he bowed in respect.

“I am Apple White, and I pledge to follow my destiny as the next Snow White!” Apple said.

“Perfect!” Grimm said. Apple turned around and returned the key.

“I know,” she said. Suddenly, there were some girls in the distance.

“Excuse me! Are you Headmaster Grimm?” one of the girls said.

“Yes, I am. Who might you be?” Grimm said.

“My name is Akaya. And these are my friends.” Akaya introduced her friends.

“Ahh, you must be our new transfer students. Come, come. We’re just doing our Legacy Day rehearsal,” Grimm said. The girls walked over to the platform and stood next to the students.

“Hi, I’m Apple White,” Apple whispered to Akaya.

“Hi, I’m Akaya.”

“That’s a pretty name. Are you a royal or a rebel?”

“I’m a royal.”

“Cool. I hope we get to be good friends this year.”

“Me too.” Akaya watched as the other students practiced their pledge.

“ I am Briar Beauty and I pledge to follow in my mom's footsteps and sleep for a hundred years,” Briar said, boringly.

“BUT BEFORE I DO, I'm gonna live every minute! Oh, speaking of which, my dorm room, Friday night, we're gonna blow the roof off the place, and—” she said.

“Next!” Grimm interrupted. Daring danced over to the podium.

“Hey, there! Charming. Daring Charming. I pledge to be just like my old man, King Charming: brave, good-looking, kind, good-looking, thoughtful, and good-looking,” he said as he clicked and smiled.

“Next!” Grimm said. Akaya walked over to the podium, nervously.

“U-um, my name is Akaya. A-and I pledge to b-become the next guardian o-of light,” she said.

“Excellent. Next!” Grimm said. Akaya walked back and stood next to Apple.

“Phew, didn’t know that it was that scary,” Akaya said.

“You did great!” Apple said.

“Thank you!” Akaya’s friends had their turn and it was not Raven’s turn.

��I'm Raven Queen and I pledge to follow my destiny as... um... I have a question,” she said.

“What is it?” Grimm asked.

“I was just wondering, I mean, what if I don't want to take the pledge?” Everyone gasped except for Akaya and her friends. Apple’s mouth fell open and Daring shutted her mouth.

“She has to do it!” she said as she smacked Daring in the face by accident.

“I mean, if-if she never poisons me, then I'll never fall asleep, and-and I'll never be kissed by my prince, and I'll never become queen, and I'll never have my Happily Ever After!” she said as she throttled Daring lightly.

“Now, Raven, erase that dangerous idea from your head. Continue!” Grimm said.

“I have to go,” Raven said as she ran off.

“What?!” Apple asked.

“But the rules are... The rules!” Grimm said.

“Um, what happens if you don’t take the pledge?” Akaya asked Apple.

“Something really bad happens to you,” she said.

“Oh.” Akaya looked at the podium nervously. Apple ran to the Enchanted Forest and cried.

And so Apple took refuge that night in the Enchanted Forest, wondering what would become of her destiny should Raven not follow hers.

Apple gasped as the Headmaster appeared right in front of her.

“Oh! Headmaster Grimm?” she said.

“Forgive me for startling you, my dear. I need you to keep an eye on your roommate, Raven. We must follow the paths set out before us. It's the only way to keep our world safe. Please, watch Raven and convince her of this. I know you'll do whatever it takes,” Grimm said.

“I'll...” The Headmaster was gone before Apple could finish her sentence.

And so, on the grave portent about to befall Ever After High...

Must you always be so dramatic?

Must you always ruin my ominous endings? I mean...

You're always taking the Royal side...

I'm known for my endings...

~~~~

Sora and the others watched as a large cloud of darkness was approaching them. Akaya was holding a crying Sayo in her arms.

“What can we do?” Akaya asked.

“Nothing. We’ve lost,” Sora said. The cloud of darkness invaded their home and everyone was transported to another world, far away from their original one.

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom+hearts+imagines #kingdom+hearts+imagine #kingdomhearts imagines #kingdomhearts+imagines #eah imagine #eah #ever after high #ever after high imagine

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melodysbittycenter · 4 years ago

Text

Trigger warning!: Starvation, Death, non-graphic birth

Mufasa slithers in a makeshift pace while he awaits the newly appointed non bitty assistant of the center, Kage the Asritaur is with him, throwing a few warm up punches while they wait. It seems they are the only ones that are available for the search for the mystery Faelementals. With the snow melted as great as it has it is unclear how successful their search will be even when Thor unavoidably joins them (Kage is a trained fighter and Thor is my second in command as well as a skilled tracker/hunter. Mufasa works security and defence for the property and knows where the Obscurite and Starbright were found) Sketch walks over to the duo. He pulls his fur lined hood over his skull to keep the cold off. In his hood wrapped around his neck was a young Lamia from his shop that didn’t want to be left behind. “So this is where you found the two leaders?” He asks Mufasa.

Mufasa nods"I recommend waiting for Thor, I will need to leave for today's rounds soon" His voice growls softly. Kage hops from hoof to hoof. “That’s a good idea. Having more to search would help” he nods and waits for their missing member while gently rubbing the skull of the baby lamia around his neck. Thor arrives looking slightly disheveled with ribbons tied to his horns "I apologize for the wait, Pandora had me finish tea first...with the hot wheels cars. I hope you haven't had to wait long." "We didn't have to wait too long," Sketch smiles at Thor reassuringly. He nods to Mufasa when he heads to go do his patrol. Mufasa nods back and slithers away for his patrol, giveing Kage a pat on his head as he passes. Thor looks around the immediate area, puffs of air passing through his skulls nostrils.

Sketch kneels down where the two leaders were found and looks for any magical traces left from the tiny leaders. He finds a very very faint trace leading into the woods, "I found some magic trace from the two leaders. it's a couple days old but it is a lead." "Excellent I might be able to find a trail from there, Kage be on your guard we do not know what we will come across" Thor says. Sketch makes the trace glow slightly with his magic so it is visible but it is faint. He stands back up and shows Thor the trace. the little lamia babu in Sketch's hood peeks out to watch with interest. Thor hurries to follow the trace, whipping his head back and forth for signs of what might have transpired. Kage stays close on his heels that can only be from vigorous training together. Sketch follows quickly behind them as he tries not to lose the duo.

Eventually the trace dies out and Thor is forced to a stop as he takes in the surroundings. Sketch stops with Thor and looks around. he notices they seem to have stopped in a clearing deep in the forest. he kneels down again to see if there were any new evidence of life. he sees some animal tracks and eventually finds some fresh bitty tracks that could be from the bitties they are looking for. "Hey Thor. I think I found some tracks." "Before we pursue, look for other tracks as well as signs of a struggle. Kage, climb this tree to view the area better" Thor says while examining a brush. Sketch nods and looks for any further signs. He doesn't see much but he does see what could be some old struggle marks. Kage climbs up and scouts around as Thor approaches Sketch "There are a lot of bitty tracks....I count no less than 15 sets of prints, including what the Faelementals refer to as 'Younglings', their children. What are your finds?" “I thinks I found old signs of a struggle. The could have been where the two leaders got hurt” Sketch replies as he looks at Thor. Thor looks over the area and mumbles to himself, he looks troubled. Kage jumps down and lands with a near silent thud looking equally troubled "There are scratches on a few of the trees that don't look like anything made by local wildlife. Too clean, or too clustered. Likely the use of magic attacks. I spotted what looks like a busted cage in the direction of mountains, who ever left it was in a hurry and left it sticking out of a bush" He looks to Sketch, seemingly calm "This is one of the many reasons why the Little Miss works so hard to care for those at the center, the Faelementals needed help but even they thought the shadow and light types of their kind were mere myths." Sketch tilted his head in confusion, “Broken cages? That sounds like this could have been the work of bitty hunters. Colonies of bitties don’t just disappear without reason.”

"Unfortunately without knowing what happened here we have no idea what the cages were for nor the intentions of those the cages belonged to. This forest can be dangerous to those who intend harm on others, it is part of the reason we live so close by. There is another center deep within whose residents are fiercely protective of those who dwell in the wood" Kage looks to Thor who growls deep in his throat, his eyelights mere slits as he shakes. "that may be true but we shouldn't eliminate that option yet. let's check out those cages. they could give us some clues,'' Sketch suggests. "Uh....Thor? Buddy? You good there?" Kage asks cautiously, his voice seems uneven. Possibly even fearful. Thor doesn't react at first, another growl can be heard from him. Sketch looks towards where Thor was growling, "Did you find something Thor?" The lamia babu in Sketch's hood shrunk back in fear from the growling. He blinks, before shaking his head slowly "I have seen and heard the kinds of things that can happen to those captured by.....unsavoury.....individuals.....One of my loves has suffered heavy at the hands of such individuals. The thought of them here.....so close to our home...." He lets himself trail off before looking to Sketch "If any bitties had escaped they would have sought cover away from this place and away from the traps. We can alert the other center about the traps and they will do a follow up investigation of their own or pursue the traps as you suggest but believe me when I say it might not necessarily end well or even result in any others being found."

Sketch nods in understanding. "you may be right. At this point all we can really do is tell that other center and wait for the two leaders to heal up and trust us before we can interact with their colonies. we could maybe find where the colonies moved to, at least the general area so we don't accidentally spook them into moving again." Kage nods "I will mark the area near the cage so they can find it easier" He hurries off while Thor examines the area more thoroughly this time looking to see where the faint track remnants lead off to. Sketch helps Thor look. He uses some of his magic to cause the track from earlier to glow again. It seems there are too many magic signatures in the area to really nail one down, the degradation of the tracks make them hard to see in some areas of the clearing but Thor perseveres. When Kage returns he helps look as well, frowning at the number of smaller tracks when they can be seen "It makes no sense! I can't make heads or tails of where they could have scuttled off to! It's like...they were here and then they weren't...but the Leaders tracks can be seen leaving the area towards the house." "hmm... What do we know of these two types of bittes? did they have special powers?" Sketch asks.

Thor speaks up "Faelementals in general are very talented at magic, they are a resourceful lot likely given the unknown amount of time they existed without interference from those outside their colonies. The one we are pursuing are known as Obscurites and Starbrights, the Shadow and the Light. From what those of the center have said, the Starbrights eyes can physically see magic energy and Obscurites are able to literally cloak themselves in darkness. Beyond that not much is known, which given they were thought myth is understandable." "if both of these colonies lived together then they would help each other out. they basically cover the others weak spots. if the Obscurities were able to hide not just themselves but also the Starbrights then that would explain how they basically disappeared into thin air" Sketch says. "If the stories are true that is...even still..." Kage seems tense, Thor starts examining the trees surrounding the clearing. Sketch checks along the ground for any traces where they could have gone direction wise. Sketch’s efforts prove fruitful! There at the base of one of the trees is what appears to be a gap hidden by now broken roots. He inspects the gap and the baby that was in his hood slowly comes out. Sketch waves to Thor and Kage, silently, to get their attention. Thor is busy with inspecting other trees, however Kage does notice and hurries over "You find something?" “Yeah. There’s a hidden gap here” he motions to the gap. He looks at it and moves the broken roots away, eventually you see what might have been an animal's den at one point, Kage hums in thought before carefully peering inside. Sketch also peers inside of the den. It seems as though it was turned into a bitty den at some point, it seems rather dark the further back so you can't exactly tell how large the hole is but there are animal furs around as well as fabric scraps from what is visible.

"looks like this is where they lived at one point" Sketch says. the little Lamia slowly slips out of his hood and into the den, looking around with curiosity. Kage climbs inside "Hello? Is anyone still in here? We want to help!" Sketch waited outside the den as he was too big to fit. the little Lamia continues to look around. The inside looked as if there weren't a whole lot of bitties living here, and many furs had been trampled on as if someone was crossing to the back in a hurry. Kage examines the furs "From the looks of it there was maybe 4 adults here and 3 younglings judging by the furs in here. Leader included. The others when they arrived had way more than that. Its nice and dark in here...perhaps the Obscurites? It's likely they were holding out for the thaw." The baby Lamia hisses softly and flicks his forked tongue to see if he could “smell” any other magic signatures. "Hey Sketch? Can you check near the entrance for....honestly we don't know WHAT happens when they die...but uh....yeah...can you check that out?" The baby would smell something near the back alright though the pitch darkness made it impossible to see what was over there. Outside Thor calls over from another tree "This one has been climbed recently! A few hours at least!" Sketch nods and checks around the entrance “We found a den that was hidden over here” he says to Thor. The little Lamia slithers over to the darkest corner with a magical film over his eyes, changing his sight from normal sight to magical snake sight. Allowing him to see magical signatures, similar to a snake's heat vision. There is a single form, they looks small and frightened. There are objects near them that they seem defensive of. Thor starts climbing up the tree as Kage hums in thought. There seems to be something crumbling into grey substance tangled in the broken roots. the baby lamia hisses and tries to talk to the shivering mass "s...ssa...safe...me...fr..frie...friend.... me...an'.. mama...h..help.." Sketch inspects the crumbling grey substance. It looks like what might have been a bitty but it quickly disintegrates into a fine grey powder. The shivering mass doesn't seem to keep on coming out of hiding, however the hissing draws Kage's attention "Uh hey little guy when you slip in here? You find something back there?"

the little lamia looks at Kage and points to the dark corner "f..friends?" Sketch looks shocked at the now grey dust. Kage is concerned and slowly tries to approach the 'friends' the little one had spotted "Hey? Its ok..I'm going to use my magic so I can see ok? Can you...make a noise or something if you understand?" The mystery bitty doesn't say or do anything for a several moments, eventually the darkness lets up exposing a malnourished Faelemental, it's difficult to tell whether or not they are a youngling but they are surrounded by pods, quite a number of them. They seem unsteady on their feet and end up collapsing to their knees in tears. the little lamia gasps in shock and hurries over to the Faelemental. he offers some food he keeps with him to the Faelemental "h..her..ere....f..food....h..help..ke..eep..st..stre..strenth.."Kage Looks out to the entrance "Sketch?! You need to call Melody NOW, Tell her we got pods in need of transfer and Hermes needs to prep at least one bed!" He doesn't wait for a reply before approaching the mystery bitty and giving them a once over for injuries. SAid bitty greedily takes and devours the food not bothering to even look at what exactly it was, their tears seemingly never ending.

"Got it!" Sketch pulls out his phone and immediately calls Melody. He repeats what Kage told him and gives her the location. "Ok Sketch, I'll send a team out to get you all. Wheres Thor?" Melody sounds worried, in the background of the phone a great commotion can be heard as several of the others prepare to head to the location. Thor calls out from the tree he had been climbing "I have 2 Younglings that are near adults and several pods up here, one looks to be opening!" Seems he found a hole in the tree rather high up. The mystery bitty, having eaten the offered food snuggles up with the Laima best they can and whines as Kage starts healing some of the scratches on their body. "He just found more and one of the pods looks to be hatching. he said there were 2 younglings and a few adults along with their pods'' Sketch relies. The little lamia gently hugs the Faelemental reassuringly and offers some more food. "The teams on their way, don't move till they get there. If the pod is open make sure to clean the infant of pod goop ok? Keep me updated please...." The Faelemental devours the food once again, exhaustion overtaking their body and mind as the yawn and shake. Thor stays up near the other hole waiting. "got it" He walks over to the hole where Thor was and looks inside. the little Lamia gently guides the Faelemental onto his coiled tail for it to lay on. It's a little difficult for him as it's just a little higher than he is tall. He does manage to somehow peer into the hole. It's facing away from the clearing and looks to have been made and used by wild animals before much like the other hole that was discovered. Inside there are 2 bitties huddled together that seem pretty out of it. The one coughs, it sounds horrible...like something was trying to come out. One of the surrounding pods looks as if it will burst, Thor stands near it watching it closely.

"one of the ones Thor found sounds sick, it keeps coughing." Sketch updates Melody. "What kind of cough? Does it have anything sticking to its face? Is anything coming up when it does? Sometimes when sick a Faelemental will cough up raw magic, it's just about as bad as when humans cough up blood as I understand" Kage looks at the laima "Hey buddy can you keep this little guy safe for me while I check the pods out?" Thor looks over to Sketch before back to the pod. *the little lamia nods and keeps an eye on his "friend". "It sounds like it is trying to cough something up but there is nothing on it's face that i can see." Sketch looks over at Thor and the pod "also the pod Thor mentioned before looks ready to burst." "That means it should be opening up soon...like within the hour soon. As the for sick one keep an eye on them for now and if they start coughing up magic get Kage to try some healing magic. Make sure they eat something too, monster candy if you have any on hand will help with most injuries and low magic levels." "got it" Sketch pulls out some monster food he keeps handy that has healing properties and offers it to the Faelementals. They don't seem to even notice him nor the offered candy as they lay there "Team should be there in maybe 10-20 minutes Sketch give or take really" Melody says over the phone. Thor seems rather calm, keeping an eye on the pair and looking over when the sick one coughs again. "good. I am getting worried about these bitties. they seem really out of it and not accepting the monster food i am offering them," Sketch says. "That's not good..." The sound of papers can be heard over the phone "Ok what to do what to do...." " should i try petting their heads?" Sketch asks.

"NO! Goodness no, there's no telling if they might perceive you as a threat or not...actually given you are a monster it should theoretically be safe....."There is a series of words mumbled after that. "i won't just to be on the safe side" Sketch tries again to offer food to the faelementals. They again don't notice, Thor looks troubled and turns to Sketch "I will need something clean to wipe the infant off and something else to wrap them till the others get here. I will try to get their attention to eat something while you check in on Kage'' "right" he pulls a small towel and a bitty blanket from his pocket, handing them to Thor. after also leaving the food he walks over to the other den "Kage everything ok on this end?” "I will need help moveing the pods but the kiddo seems to have fallen asleep, they look too young to have been allowed in on food gathering so its likely they haven't been taught how yet. Your laima is keeping them company while they sleep off the food they were given." "the teams should be here in about ten minute or so. Thor found some more of these guys. one of them is coughing and a pod is ready to hatch". "Thanks for the heads up, These don't seem all that close to hatching just yet, maybe a couple days at least. Seems like something had happened and the group holed up here after, there's more pods then there are bedding furs!" "how can i help move the pods?" Sketch asks. "We need to put them in something to carry, the others should be bringing a lined box for that. You need to clear the roots out of the way at the entrance before they get here" Kage replies. Sketch nods but hesitates, looking at where the dust from the dusted bitty lay. Voices chattering nearby can be heard, a Flutterfae appears in the clearing first and looks around. She flies to Sketch and lands on him "The others aren't far behind me, I'm Leader Tillie. How can I help?" Despite her oddly serious words her voice is chirpy and bright. He looks at her "we have a sick Faelemental in that tree over there along with a pod that is about to hatch. there are some pods and what i think is a youngling in this burrow," he points to the tree and the burrow as he says them.

"Got it! We have a box and wagon being pulled by Jarvis, we also have blankets and Hermes is at the center making up sick beds. I will go let the others know of the sick one, be right back with the others!" She flys away in a hurry towards the voices. Kage looks at the laima "Ok want to help the little fella out of here? I don't want to risk waking him up" Said little fella is fast asleep on the laima still. the little Lamia nods and gently picks up the Faelemental. They don't react, clearly out cold and quietly breathing. Kage moves over to try and carefully move the pods towards the entrance while calling out to Sketch "Hey are those roots cleared away yet?" It is clear he did not know of the dead Faelemental that the other had seen. "no. not yet. um can you come here for a sec" Sketch asks, voice wavering. He stops what he's doing to go over and look out of the burrow best he can "Yeah? Whats up?" "I found this earlier" he shows Kage the dust. The sight has him pausing before looking back into the burrow "The youngling likely saw it happen...." He looks at Sketch, speaking in a hushed voice "There are means of reviving bitties from dust but...I know little about it. I don't know if they would remember. What do you think we should do?" "what do you know of reviving first of all?" "I know its possible using different things, thats about all I know" He says sadly looking back to the youngling to see if they are awake or listening. "at the moment we can collect the dust of the fallen. if we can we will try to revive them" he pulls out a small jar from his inventory. "We can have Thor or one of the others look for more even."

He nods as he collects all the dust into the jar and seals it. Kage moves back in order to start moving the pods as the others arrive into the clearing, lead by Jarvis the full size FireRing Laima. Sketch nods to them before carefully removing roots that were in the way of the den.Una, the Waterborne Leader, went straight to the tree where Thor was while Ares waited the Javris and the wagon. Seems as if Orion the Stellar Laima had come too, his coils long tail coiled up with a blanket to look like a nest. Kage leaves the pods near the entrance as he grabs them. Tillie returns to Sketches shoulder looking worried. the little lamia carried/dragged the sleeping Faelemental out of the den. Sketch carefully picked up the pods and handed them to another bitty to place in the wagon. While working together all the pods are placed in the wagon and the little one placed within Orions blanketed coils, the whole thing taking roughly 30 minutes. Thor moves around the area attempting to find more dust without success. Una and Tillie both seem uneasy. Ares seems to notice something "Hey uh...Sketch? The one pod is moving around!" he quickly makes his way over to the pods. He has the small towel ready. It shakes a little before opening up, goop gushing outward and away from the infant. Sketch carefully picks the baby up and gently cleans it off with the towel. Once clean he gently wraps it in a bitty baby blanket. It crys and squirms around before settling in and holding Sketches finger. Tiny pulses of magic can be felt from the newborn's hands, harmless yet present. Una hurries over looking worried. Sketch smiles and holds his hand out to Una to see the newborn. She looks them over before looking up and smiling at Sketch "They seem healthy!~ I will need to speak with the Leader to see what they might need when we return." "sounds good." he tries to place the little babu next to the youngling in Orion's soft blanketed coils. It starts crying and fussing, clearly startling the other Younglings...the youngest of the 3 so startled they themselves start to cry as well.

He sighs and continues to hold the baby, gently stroking it's head soothingly. the little Lamia tries to help by gently hugging the crying youngling. The infant snuggles the finger they were holding, Una starts to chuckle. Meanwhile the small child hugs the laima friend giving sniffles and hiccups. Thor eventually returns to the wagon, looking dejected, before climbing in himself. "let's head back to the center. Thor are you ok?" he looks at Thor. "I will be fine...it's best not to speak of ill news when there are little ones listening," Thor says. "Mmm. You have ill news too?" Sketch asks. He looks at Sketch but doesn't answer the question "Ares will be unable to Shortcut us home so we must be on our guard as we make our way back. I recommend putting the Infant somewhere close to you and safe." Sketch nods and holds the baby close. They soon start heading back towards the center. The walk is uneventful and almost peaceful once the little ones calm down. Una can't stop smiling at Sketch and the infant the whole way back. Sketch kept attentive to the surroundings as they went. babies always made him more protective. Soon enough the property was in view, safety within sight. Even with it in sight he kept his guard up just incase. he knew better than to let his guard down when in an unsafe area. The infant starts fussing quietly, on the property edge Hermes can be seen waiting. Sketch gently strokes the baby to calm it down as he and the others make their way onto the property. He nods to Hermes as he passes. He slithers next to Jarvis already looking over the pods and children on the way to the house. The baby seems unwilling to settle down this time as they start to wail. Una pipes up "They are likely hungry, I can fetch a dropper with warm milk for you when we get inside." "that would be greatly appreciated" Sketch says while smiling at Una.

#Obscurites #Starbrights #bitty helpers #trigger bitty death #trigger bitty starvation #trigger non-graphic birth

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years ago

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Story on Norman catching Sammy in Joey cult ?

It's been twice now that I've written Norman's demise. Y'all really like killing people uh?

Summary: Sammy was weird in many ways, but this? This was just crazy.

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Back when Norman was still a little tot, his great nanna used to tell him and his brothers and sisters about their great poppop. How he'd been raised in some sort of cult that indoctrinated its disciples from birth. She related to them how, even though he'd managed to escape them, their constant drilling of ideals had never truly left him. Which was why nanna had gotten rid of him. Love him as she did, she knew he was a crazy dangerous man. Little five year old Norman had been very curious about those tales his mama begged nanna not to tell them. He especially found it curious when she described his eyes. Having a condition like the one he had, had made him a prime target for neighbourhood bullies that called him "Crazy-Eye". So hearing about someone who had actual insanity behind what most considered to be the windows to the soul... It had given him a sort of relief, because at least there was a spark of life behind his own unsynchronized peepers. "N'aw child, don't yous go be tellin' ya mama 'bout what ol' nanna be tellin' you 'bout ya poppop, ya hear?" "Ok nanna. Won't tell a soul." "Yous is a clever one, boy. An' don't forget ta keep an eye out... Crazy can hide in plain sight. Sure did for poppop." Insanity could hide in plain sight. That was perhaps the most valuable lesson to take from his nanna's tales. What she could never get across was how hard it was to see someone you cared for slowly be afflicted with it.

Sammy was a weird man. Had been from day one of Norman meeting him, and never quite changed even when he put a reign on his deplorable attitude. He wasn't a bad person per say. Misguided by a parent with that typical southern brand of white superiority complex. A man who thought his skin color made him better than all the other folk, and who taught his boy to think it was just as sacred an idea as the damn gospel he also tried to drill into Sammy's head. But Sammy was admittedly clever, and much more curious than his father had been. He asked questions and he tried to change when he realized his own crappy behaviour didn't please him all that much. But then things started getting unsettling in the studio. Little things popped up, and the world's own agenda got in the way of Joey Drew's plans. Turns out Joey wasn't about to fold for anything or anyone. Those who were drafted were the lucky ones. Those who were socially outcasts or liabilities in the military's eyes, were not so lucky. They stayed, so the wrongness affected them. The wrongness... Norman had felt something was not right for a long while, but now that he had to get acquainted with so many new hires and the such? He'd been preoccupied. So when the ones he knew suddenly started acting unlike themselves he'd been caught by surprise. "I don't understand how Mr. Drew has no trouble with him... He's just so..." He'd found Buddy in the bathroom, trying to clean the obvious ink stains on his clothing. "Why did I think helping him would make him less nasty?" "Sammy tends ta blow up at minor things. If it was as bad as yous say it was, then he was just freaked out from nearly drowning." He got as many paper towels as he could to help the poor kid get rid of as much of the ink as he could. "Doesn't excuse what he says to me... Or the other Jewish employees..." Buddy murmured sadly. "What did he say?" "Not important... Just makes me uneasy. It's like I'm specifically not worth anything just because of my... Mr. Polk?" Buddy blinked once the projectionist dropped everything he was doing to stalk out the door. "Yous ain't the first he's gone and played that card on. Was a long while ago but I can refresh Sammy's memory for the folks he's been barkin' at." "Oh! Uh, you don't have to! It's not going to fix anything." "Trust me, a hard knock on the noggin' works just fine ta sorte Sammy's bullshit." Norman smiled in passing at Dot who paused to watch him and then look at Buddy in concern once he peered out the bathroom door. "You two kids run along now. I'll see yous around." He tried not to laugh when he heard Buddy fretting over potentially getting fired for starting a fight. Kid still had a lot to learn about how Joey Drew Studios ran for all these years. Sometimes tough love was all it needed. But not this time.

His nanna's tales rushed back to him when he'd cornered Sammy in his office. Norman didn't like roughing people up, but he'd promised the music director that if he stepped on any toes for the wrong reasons he'd give him a whooping like the one the blond had been begging for, back when he'd first harassed the projectionist. He had half a mind to start hollering until he'd caught sight of Sammy's eyes. Nanna had described insanity in great detail. The unfeeling and unfocused darkness in poppop's eyes that consumed the man she'd loved and left nothing behind. Sammy's eyes were a soft hazel, the nice flicker of green so full of the essence that made Sammy Lawrence who he was. What Norman saw instead of those pretty peepers were dark pools, a sickly grayish brown with flecks of blackness like tar. Like ink... Norman completely forgot what he was to say. He couldn't bring himself to talk when he saw the same thing that had tormented his nanna's dreams. It just wasn't right.

Joey Drew was up to something, and Sammy was involved somehow. By his own volition, Norman wasn't too sure. The kid was acting mighty strange since Norman had noticed his eyes had inexplicably changed color, and whatever progress for positive change he'd made was completely gone. If anything, Sammy had become an incredibly volatile and aggressive husk. Very few people noticed, which was what was so concerning. "It can't be a coincidence... Joey barely showin' his face 'round the departments and Sammy actin' up like the devil bit him in the ass..." He'd paced as he watched Jack drink what was likely the 5th cup of coffee he'd in the morning. "Whatever it is, Sammy's more enthusiastic about his songs for a change..." He sounded nonchalant about it. "He complained about all the pieces Drew forced him to change... Now he's less, angry about those. Seems to love them actually." "Those little annoying jigs? He said they was garbage!" "And they are. Putting lyrics to those was dang awful but... Well if he's happy, I'm happy..." Jack gave a weak smile before coughing a rather wet sounding cough. He took another sip of his coffee to sooth his throat. "You comin' down with somethin'?" "Must be... This gross cough has been popping up a lot. And my nose is awfully stuffy. Can't smell or taste nothing, which is good considering I gotta hide away in the sewers to work..." Norman huffs. People were getting sick from being forced to do overtime with no rest. Jack getting sick wasn't entirely out of the question. But the stench of something acrid coming from his mug did give him cause for concern. Best check to see if Wally hadn't accidentally stored the coffee beans with the cleaning supplies again. A week later he forgets about it once he instead finds himself making a list of the people he stops seeing around the Studio not long after he noticed something up with Joey and Sammy.

There's Jack, who he hadn't noticed gone at first until he'd gone poking around the sewers and not caught sight of the shorter lyricist. There was Johnny Brokehart, who's organ was completely abandoned in its little corner. No one dared touch it, in case the man returned and found so much as a pipe out of place. There was Julian Whitaker, the tall gangly cellist that often sat with the resident art critic, that Vernon fellow who liked to stare at the cartoon posters like they were masterpieces on display at a museum. Susie Campbell had gone too. Wally insisted she hadn't quit, and was awfully worried about her. Allison and Thomas had also up and split after they'd made a scene at one of them fancy parties Joey used to get investors to dump money into his lap. Shawn Flynn, Grant Cohen, Bertrum Piedmont, Lacie Benton, Emma LaMonte... People were vanishing left and right and there was no say of them being fired. Norman had a theory, and he didn't like it one bit. He tried to do his best to inform the younger hires to run before something inevitably happened to them. He told Buddy and Dot it was dangerous, in as little words he could so not to let Joey catch wind of what he did know. He prayed to whatever god was out there that no bad befell those two kids. And then he'd grabbed his light and went down, where the groaning and moaning came from.

Norman ran. Ran as fast as he could, trying not to look at the things trapped in those tubes. The creatures that were tall, gangly, and vaguely humanoid. Weeping faces pressed to the glass, begging to be let out. The disgusting sludge creatures, barely holding themselves together and clawing at the glass in obvious suffering. The thing that had Sammy's voice and that was rushing after him, axe in hand and Bendy mask covering its face. Screaming at him to accept the "Lord's" blessing. He ran and dodged strikes that nicked his elbows, his legs, grazed his ankle and back... He came to a full stop before what could only be described as a throne. Horrified to find something twisted that looked like a humanoid corpse-like Bendy bound in chains. And then he was knocked onto the floor, air escaping his lungs from the sudden collision. The Sammy thing was on top of him, overjoyed to have caught him. And then all around, Joey Drew's voice filled the room... The thing on the throne shook and hissed. "Excellent... You know what to do Prophet. Baptize this non-believer in the name of your lord." "Anything for you my lord. Anything!" Norman tried to fight him off, knocked that silly mask off his face even. Except there was no face. Not even eyes. Windows to the soul... If he had none, then did Sammy even have a soul anymore? The axe raised, and Norman Polk didn't even have time to scream before it plunged into his chest, destroyed his ribcage, and obliterated his heart.

#Eps Writes:#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Norman Polk #Sammy Lawrence

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theres-a-goldensky · 5 years ago

Text

16 + 2 Reddie Fic Recs pt. 2

I’m back and still on my Bill Hader bullshit, so here’s another round of Reddie fic recs, because I can’t stop reading and sometimes sifting through the insane amounts of fic is a nightmare. So if you feel my pain and need some (at least in my opinion) fun stories, then come along with me on a magical journey filled with men crying during sex, hypochondria, and your mom jokes.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

IT chapter 2 list part one - Reddie

Good Omens fic

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All my recs are completed, almost all of them are post-It chapter 2. * - denotes a favorite

1. I killed a clown. AMA! by liesmyth - ~10,000 words, teen - The history of Eddie and Myra’s marriage shown through their posts on reddit. The voices here are great, and it really feels like reading the reddit forums, down to the people sleuthing through their past posts and comments to try and figure out if what they’re saying is real or an elaborate troll.

r/relationships

Posted by u/martymcfly6xo 7 months ago

My (39F) husband (39M) likes horrible stand-up comedy. How can I stop him from bringing this up in front of our mutual friends?

For the last year or so my husband has been watching a lot of stand-up comedy on youtube. I want him to have something relaxing to do (he works a lot and gets really invested in his ‘hands-on’ hobbies in a way I’m not sure is good for him) but I was very puzzled by this discovery as he likes very crass acts and that is certainly not the kind of humor hubby usually enjoys...

2. all of the kids back home believing much more than you do by eatcheeseliveforever - ~11,000 words, explicit - This is a fix-it fic, which is becoming more and more rare in this fandom as we collectively started deciding that Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t need to be brought back to live, because he never died in the first place, dammit. It has some great pining by Richie. You can really feel his grief and desperation as he searches for a way to get Eddie back. The other Losers are great in this too, especially Mike with his whales.

"A boat, actually," murmured Mike. "I'm on a whale-watching cruise."

Richie mouthed the words "whale watching cruise" to himself. Empirically he knew such things existed, that they happened not far away from the coast where he lived, but it felt like several fucking galaxies away from where he was, surrounded by the ghosts of takeouts and blackouts past and the actual ghost-ghosts, who he couldn't step in or stub his toe on at three in the morning, but hurt so much worse.

"He said you've been googling resurrection rituals."

Richie scrounged through his pile of empties, hoping one wasn't. "Bill talks too much."

"Richie." A sigh, or a wave, or a really quiet whale. "You're not going to find a resurrection ritual on Google."

"I've found hundreds," said Richie. "Funny thing, though, they all seem to call for orgies. Or virgin sacrifices. Or sacrificing someone's virginity in an orgy. I'm hoping Ben will volunteer as tribute."

3. * - you’ve got the answers to my confessions by QueerOnTilMorning - ~17,000 words, explicit - This is the good stuff right here. Richie accidentally sexts Eddie and Eddie is IN. TO. IT. This fic starts with excellent phone sex, there’s misunderstandings and confessions in the middle, and then it ends with super hot sex. There’s a brief part with karaoke that was a bit of a lull in the story, but doesn’t take away from how great the rest is.

suck on ur tongue

show u how much I missd that mouth

when u start getting weak in the knees

thats when ill get on mine

He set the phone aside to unzip his pants, palming himself through his boxers, already half-hard.

Then he froze.

The text he had just replied to--it was what he'd expected Travis to say, but it wasn't how Travis would say it. That text began with a capital letter and contained punctuation. That text was from--

"Oh, fuck, no," Richie whispered, and his phone rang.

Incoming call: Eds

4. * - L'Appel du Vide by Mackem - ~92,000 words, teen - I know, I know, almost 100k and no sex, but hear me out! The pining in this fic is so exquisitely beautiful and wrenching. Eddie’s POV is excellent and feels really spot on. The other Losers are well represented, especially Ben and Bev. In fact, the group dynamics here are almost as good as the relationship stuff. The later chapters bring in a subplot about the deadlights that I wasn’t that interested in, but it’s still done really, really well, and that’s only a side plot that doesn’t impact that exceptional story of Eddie and Richie figuring out how to stop being dummies.

Two messages, however, are from Stanley, sent to him privately. He opens them, and is met with a picture of Richie, apparently taken without him realising.

It shows him laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners behind his glasses, and his smile bright and broad as a hand gestures wildly in the air. The other hand is in his hair, pushing it out of his eyes as he tilts his head back, displaying the line of his throat beneath his stubble.

The breath is punched from Eddie at the sight of it.

He stares at it for a long moment, surprised by the depth of his reaction. His stomach is swirling happily, a bubble of excitement growing at the pit, and he cannot help but feel a heated flush build at his cheeks.

It’s probably just because Richie looks like he’s enjoying himself. It’s good to see his friend having fun. That has to be it.

Then he reads Stan’s message.

Stan: He was talking about you. He does that a lot.

5. my love a beacon in the night - by zach_stone - ~4500 words, explicit - Richie is on the road doing shows through Christmas. His friends have a surprise for him. I know it’s almost Valentine’s Day, but it’s never the wrong time for a fluffy Christmas story imo.

“Yep, just got to my hotel,” Richie says. “Now I’m getting ready for my big Christmas Eve plans.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Well according to my TV guide, they’re doing a rerun of The Mistletoe Promise, so I’m all fuckin’ set,” Richie says, grinning when Eddie laughs. On Eddie’s end of the line, he hears the sound of cars passing by, the muffled chatter of people, and says, “Are you outside?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Eddie says.

Richie glances at the clock on the nightstand. It’s after ten; Eddie’s not one to be wandering around Times Square after dark. He frowns slightly. Eddie’s been unusually vague about his holiday plans, so Richie has no clue what he’s up to this evening. Not that it’s any of his business. Maybe he’s started seeing someone and is spending the holidays with them. Richie has a sudden image of Eddie, arm-in-arm with some generically pretty woman, taking in the lights and decorations around the city. It opens a pit in his stomach.

6. Coming Back and Coming Out: Richie Tozier's 2019 by Lunatical - ~2000 words, teen - I genuinely adore the mixed media fics that this fandom has spawned. This one is an excerpt from a magazine interview with Richie as he restarts his career.

Slouched on his couch in a cheesy Hawaiian shirt and torn-up jeans, Richie Tozier looks exactly like the manchild he is describing himself to be. Next to him, sitting up straight and dressed in a lovely suit that most people would consider appropriate for an interview, his husband rolls his eyes.

When we scheduled this interview, Tozier insisted we hold it at their house, citing a desire for the interview to be “as chill as possible”—in his own words, of course. He argued that seeing the two of them in their usual environment would help me get a better idea of the kind of relationship they have. After walking into their apartment and seeing the way they’ve decorated the place, I have to admit that I can understand why.

7. baby, there’s no other superstar by kaspbrakziers - ~7000 words, mature - Another mixed media fic that shows the progression of Richie and Eddie’s relationship and Richie’s career through tweets, texts, and interviews. Eddie not knowing how to turn off the capslock on his phone absolutely sent me.

Search history

Today Sunday, 13 November 2016

should i get a divorce? - Google Search

Unhappily Married: Should I get a divorce? - Yahoo Answers

10 Signs Your Marriage Is Over - Buzzfeed

how to divorce? - Google Search

How To File For Divorce (With Pictures) - wikiHow

how to divorce someone without them getting angry? – Google Search

can you divorce someone without telling them? - Google Search

8. Goes on Trips for the Scenery by InkandOwl - ~4500 words, teen - Eddie dies and then comes back to life and tries to get some perspective. I liked the conversations between Eddie and Richie and then way that Eddie starts to take care of himself. The end is really sweet.

If cosmic power and a literal alien space clown’s death wasn’t going to bring him back to life, Eddie was certain that the terrible pain of hearing Richie beg, his tears dropping onto Eddie’s face, probably would’ve done it. He feels sick just thinking about it. About what it all means. “Yeah, Rich, I will.” He could throw a jab at him, tell him something about eating like an adult for once, but he wants to be easy with him right now. Richie deserves it. “You’ll text, right?”

Richie looks down at the prepaid cricket phone in Eddie’s hand and laughs, “There’s no fucking way that thing gets texts.”

“It does.” Eddie grins, “You could call too.”

The fight drains from Richie, his shoulder slumping and he sighs, “Yeah, Eds, I’ll call.”

9. cause i'm about to blow that back out by thotgreeves - ~5000 words, explicit - Here, have some porn. Eddie wears lingerie and Richie loses his goddamn mind. Features submissive top Richie and his unending boner for Eddie.

Richie really should have learnt to never underestimate Eddie Kaspbrak by now. It had come close to killing Richie once, but Eddie might actually be trying to finish him off.

Because the other perk of always letting Eddie go ahead of him was that it gave Richie a prime view of Eddie's ass. Eddie knew about this part and was okay with it. He was wearing a high-waisted pair of slacks that Richie was pretty sure came from the women's section, slightly loose in the legs but nicely filled out by his ass. Richie had been very vocal in the past about how hot they got him, which signaled that Eddie definitely wanted to have sex tonight, and that was already enough to make Richie's dick twitch in excitement. He hadn't been prepared for the finishing blow.

Richie's eyes were fixed, pendulum-like, on how Eddie's slacks were hugging his butt perfectly with every step he took, tight enough to show off the outline of his underwear. Only the folds didn't sit where Richie had expected them to. Instead, Richie realized, his mouth going dry, that in the absence of boxers, there was only a V-shaped crease running from Eddie's hips to between his asscheeks, which could only mean-

Eddie was wearing a thong.

10. * - I’ll Be Homo For Christmas by Amuly - ~15,000 words, explicit - Bill and Audra get a divorce, so Bill moves into Richie’s house with him. Eddie, watching all of this from New York, where he’s still married to Myra, is super, super ok and fine with it in every way.

Except then Richie started posting.

Just stupid shit, mostly with Bill. It wasn’t even real. Eddie knew Bill wasn’t gay and him and Richie were just fucking around ‘for the ‘gram!’ But the more posts Eddie scrolled past on Richie’s Instagram—

Bill in the kitchen swatting at Richie with a spatula.

Richie and Bill at the pound, Richie rating dogs on adoptability, Richie begging Bill to adopt a dog with him.

Richie in the morning with bedhead, smiling blearily into the camera as Bill…

Well. Eddie couldn’t even remember what stupid thing Bill was supposed to be doing in the background of that photo because his eyes couldn’t get past Richie’s bedhead and shirtless torso, chest hairs creeping up towards his collarbones and the little dip at the base of his throat.

Eddie hadn’t thought he was homophobic. But he must have some unresolved issues with it, because he got a stomachache every time he looked at that photo of Richie. Eddie popped a Tums and resolved to talk about it with his therapist.

11. A High-Five is a Hug You Can Hit by Amuly - ~26,000 words, explicit - This fic shows us times throughout their friendship when Eddie and Richie would invent reasons to touch each other without even knowing why. This author feels the same bone deep conviction about Richie crying during sex that I do, and I greatly appreciate that. Plus, all of their stories are fantastic, including this one.

“You know, one of the symptoms of hypothermia is feeling like you’re warm. So like, your body gets so cold that it gets hot, and then you start taking off your clothes-”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Eddie?” Richie shot back at him without turning around.

“Why don’t you ask your sister how much she liked it last week!” Eddie hollered up at him. Richie just flipped him off without looking. That kinda… bugged Eddie. What the fuck did Richie think he was doing leading up the group with Bill? Why was he stuck back here with Stan? Eddie glanced over at Stan, who was trudging tiredly through the woods alongside him, breath puffing out in little clouds of smoke.

“Okay, Stan?”

Stan glanced over at him, confused. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, fine. Cold.”

“Well that’s better than feeling warm.” And now Eddie was back on track. “Because, if anyone starts feeling warm, they should tell the others immediately. That’s a sign of hypothermia. And we have to warm you up. But you have to do it gradually, you can’t just jump in like, a pot of boiling water-”

12. * - fall apart of stay intact by kaspbrak_kid - ~19,000 words, teen - A more melancholy take on the Christmas fic. This story takes Richie’s self-esteem issues and mental problems and amps them up in a way that feels entirely realistic. The gang comes together to celebrate Christmas, and everyone is walking on eggshells because last Christmas was a bad one for Richie. Also, Eddie moves into the house literally right next to Richie’s, and I find that detail endlessly charming.

“Five minutes ago. I called you, and you didn’t answer. Because you were outside, apparently, fucking...stargazing in December! With no hat on!”

“It’s about the Vitamin D!” Richie says. Now that he’s moved a little, he can really feel the cold—his ears are aching, and his face is numb. “Reflecting off the moon, or something. I have seasonal depression, you know!”

“You have seasonal stupidity,” Eddie mutters, audibly rubbing his hands together. “Just get inside.”

“Yours or mine?” Richie jokes.

Eddie doesn’t get the memo. “Mine, obviously. I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

“Oh,” Richie says, and sits up. “Um. Okay, be right there.”

“Oh, thank god,” Eddie says, and hightails it to his back door, cursing about the cold.

13. evidence of a happier future by lagaudiere - 23,000 words, mature - I am here, leading the Jealous!Eddie revolution. Why aren’t there more fics about this. Have you SEEN Eddie Kaspbrak, can you IMAGINE him jealous? Make this happen, fandom. Anyway, in this one, Richie has a boyfriend back in LA. Eddie has trouble dealing with that as he tries to figure himself out and pick up the pieces of his life post-Derry.

“It’s not gonna be like Mike’s announcement, don’t worry,” Richie says hastily. “And it’s not like, a huge thing, so don’t make it a huge thing. But you guys are like, my best friends, and I just wanted you to know that I’m, uh. Gay.”

He turns up his palms and raises his eyebrows in a gesture that suggests a magician presenting his audience with an empty hat after making the rabbit disappear, and Eddie says, “Are you joking?”

“What? Jesus, no, Eddie.” Richie’s face falls, and Eddie instantly feels guilty. “I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says immediately, feeling all of their friends looking at him with reproach. “I was just — if you weren’t, I wouldn’t think you should… joke about it.”

“Well, I am,” Richie says. He sounds slightly put out — and who wouldn’t be, Eddie scolds himself, by that ridiculous response. “I have all the gay credientials. I have a boyfriend, partner, whatever people say. I don’t really tell people because of the whole, stage persona, thing. But yeah.”

“Richie!” Bev’s voice breaks through the awkwardness, and she reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thank you for telling us. Really.”

And the others all join in, a chorus of voices telling Richie they love him and they’re proud of him, and Ben is saying, “I wanna see a picture of the guy!” and Eddie’s throat feels like it’s closing up.

14. The ‘Do Not Fucking Touch Me’ Tour by MellytheHun - ~23,000 words, explicit - It’s Richie’s comeback special, and he makes it a big one. This...isn’t really a comedy show, but the author lampshades that. It’s an excuse to have Richie talk about how much he loves each of his friends individually, and it’s extremely entertaining. Richie doesn’t know that Eddie is in the audience watching it all.

“Hey, uhm… Eddie… he couldn’t reschedule his thing? He - I mean... it… it was really that important?”

She feels awful for him immediately, but not wanting to spoil what would ultimately be a lovely surprise, she tells him, “I’m sorry, Rich. He said it was urgent. He was really sorry about it.”

Her phone buzzes with a text from Eddie right as Richie curses under his breath, missing the noise. She clutches her phone more tightly in her fist, knowing Eddie is wondering where his seat is going to be; she bought him a separate ticket, elsewhere in the theatre, so Richie wouldn’t catch him sitting among them, as he will absolutely, inevitably look over to the Losers for most of the show.

“Okay,” Richie surrenders sadly, “Uh - I guess he’ll see it eventually, right?”

Smiling forlornly at him, she pats his arm, and tells him, “don’t worry, Richie. Your genius will inevitably be forced upon us all.”

He smiles at her, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and when Bill jokingly asks why he didn’t get one, Richie flips him off, and reminds them to treat themselves to the bar in the lobby.

Once he’s backstage, Beverly takes her phone out, and emails Eddie his ticket, explains that she’s already convinced Richie he’s not coming, and to make sure he doesn’t show up too early, or Richie will notice.

15. The List by cissues - ~7000 words, teen - Eddie finds a list he wrote as a teenager. Richie tries his best to fulfill them all. This is very sweet.

‘ All the things I want. Everything I’m not allowed to have. A perfect summer. ”

The words hit gentler than he thought they would, but they still hit and he finds himself blinking away at a wetness at the corner of his eye. He wipes at it and sniffles and Richie peers sidelong at him to make sure he’s okay. He is, he’s fine, and Richie never dotes on him when things are, generally, okay. Only when he needs it, which is one of the many things he loves about what they have now.

“This is… this is like a fucking bucket list for the most repressed child in the world.” Richie says, breathless.

Eddie rolls his eyes to hide the sting. “You’re looking at him,” he says, bitter. Richie frowns at him but turns back to the paper. Another thing Eddie loves, Richie never takes his trauma-induced bait. His knee-jerk reactions developed over years of what he’s now comfortable enough to call abuse.

16. Richie Tozier Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions by DeadpanMage - ~2000 words, teen - This is a short one, but the transcript of this popular YT video format with Richie felt spot on in terms of characterization and Richie’s voice.

[Back to the text screen: “So WIRED asked Richie Tozier some of the internet’s burning questions.” Cut back to Richie, now holding a poster board with several Google autocomplete searches half covered.]

Richie: I’ve undergone something of a rebranding in the past year, so I wonder how many of these questions are going to be super irrelevant-slash-embarrassing. Probably all of them. Let’s get started! [He tears the covering off of the first question.] Alright, that’s not bad. “How to pronounce Richie Tozier?” Well, we’re only on question one and I’ve already said it like a hundred times so there you go. And that’s “Richie Tozier” spelled J-O-H-N M-U-L-A-N-E-Y, so if you’ve got any complaints be sure to send them that way. Next question!

You can check out a larger list of stories I’ve enjoyed in my AO3 bookmarks. And finally, if you’re interested, here are the two fics I’ve written:

1. Waiting For a Sign - ~6000 words, explicit - Eddie meets Richie again and comes to the startling realization that he totally wants to hit that.

Maybe if Richie wasn’t famous, Eddie could have found a way to let it go. A couple furtive jerk off sessions in the shower after he got back to New York and the image of Richie’s big hands and wide smile and improbably flattering stubble would fade from his mind.

But Richie was famous, and the internet never forgot.

Eddie lasted three days before giving in and typing ‘Richie Tozier’ into the YouTube search bar. Just seeing Richie in the thumbnails was enough to make Eddie’s heart thud, what the fuck. He had to scroll past a bunch of news videos about Richie's supposed mental breakdown, but after that he landed on some old stand-up.

Before he clicked on the first video, he got up and made sure that the door of his study was locked. Then he turned off the lights and put on a pair of earbuds.

Fake It ‘Til You Make It - ~21,000 words, explicit - It’s that totally relatable situation where the man you’re secretly in love with is a celebrity who just came out and now needs a fake boyfriend to keep himself in the spotlight. Eddie offers to help out of the goodness of his heart and not because he’s insanely fucking jealous.

Eddie froze, breath catching in his throat.

Richie looked...really good.

Bev’s influence was obvious. His hair, which had been unkempt and shaggy, a perfect match for his stoner permakid schtick, was cut much shorter and neater. His formerly unruly stubble somehow now emphasized the sharp cut of his jaw instead of obscuring it.

He wore new glasses, Eddie noticed. Slim silver metal frames instead of his giant, clunky plastic ones. The fitted black sweater and dark blue jeans were simple, but made his shoulders look impossibly broad and his legs miles long.

Fuck everything and Beverly Marsh in particular.

LINK TO MY FIRST SET OF REDDIE RECS 30+ FICS

#reddie fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #fic recs #it chapter 2 #ao3 #rec list #reddie fic recs

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omegangrins · 5 years ago

Text

A Treatise On the Doctor

I don't know how to start this. Because I think of Peter Capaldi's words when he said that the only thing required to be a Doctor Who fan, is kindness.

I like 13 and think Chibnall is doing his best job writing the show.

So I struggle to write this because I am engaging against that very unkindness in the Doctor Who fandom, and trying very hard not to be angry back. "Allways try to be nice but never fail to be kind." But I've begun to wonder more and more if those who speak so loudly against the show really know what the show itself is about.

Enough of talking about other people though, cause frankly they're only important as set-up for this conversation. And again, I'm working kind.

So here's what you're gonna learn from this lifelong fan (and the best Tl;dr you're gonna get):

1. The Doctor sucks. From the very beginning. People complain about character traits now that have been around as long as the show.

2. Due to the Doctor's suckage, they tend to do more harm than good. (And because of this, most of the Doctor's "friends" along the way have been, well, let's leave it at the air quotes for now cause it's a damn big list of "BOOOO!!!".)

3. All of the showrunners and writers and actors and editors and everyone else has allways knows this and has played it this way.

4. And last but not least, since this is a time travel show. If you wanna know what and why stuff is happening now, look it up. Everything that happened before is allways in play.

5. None of this is bad, and in fact, it makes the show morally grayer. It's about kindness at all costs. Even your own.

A. First things first, the hard thing. The Doctor is not grrrreat. I mean, sure they try, but they fail a lot more often. In Extremis, a majority of those fatality index counts come from people the Doctor failed to save. That's why it's worded so specifically as "cause of death". All the death's caused by the Doctor's very interaction with time and lack of saving those around them. And part of it's not their fault, but more often than not, the Doctor says I can save you, and can't, won't, or chooses not to.

And that would be alright, but it took them over 1000 years to realize they should start letting their companions lead lives outside of theirs so THEY DON'T DIE. A bit too long as someone who claims to be better.

Not to mention how many times the Doctor is dismissive of their companions and the people around them only to use them for their help and just bug off again. If they truly cared and wanted to help, they would stay and listen in between adventures. Their lifespan is near infinite anyway. What's a few extra Earth hours with some friends you made along the way. You know, maybe fix some of the psychological and emotional damage created by encountering things behind a human's original scope of reasoning. But nope, we gotta go adventure more, byyyyeee!!

So when people talk about these qualities in 13 in a negative aspect I have to laugh because I'm not sure if they understand the joke. Cause we're talking about an alien that grew up around a species calling themselves Time Lords. I try not to blame them too much for it. 1 had to learn how to be hospitable to humans and it's been a bit of a slow learning curve ever since.

B. After the Doctor survived the horrors of the Time War and happened upon a human companion they felt worth connecting to, what did they do? They took Rose to watch her planet burn in front of her eyes. Great, first date, amirite?

And that's a little bit of companion damage. Do you know that the Doctor is responsible for the almost complete genocide of the Silurian race across multiple occasions. I am legitimately surprised there are any left after all of the ones the Doctor has killed. Like before, they cause destruction either purposefully or accidentally or simply by force of being there.

Remember before how I said that the Doctor just flies away. Yeah, they leave a lot of problems behind when they do (something that I can see Chibnall is planting the seeds of). If you had a time and space machine and practically unlimited capabilities and you choose to just leave after a situation and not check up on them from time to or see if there are any other underlying crises to be solved. But oh no, "gotta follow that rule of time and keep going even though I stopped in the first place because of how interested I was.". This is why 9 has a great arc about this. He thought he killed all the Daleks. They came back. He thought he'd gotten rid of the Slitheen. They came back. He thought he saved Satellite 5 from aliens. But opsies, they came back. And look! They're Daleks. Which he "finally" got rid of.

The Doctor just bounces around all carefree and without an ounce of care for themselves, their companions or consequences unless there's consequences for themselves or their companions. Then they get indignant.

Is that really kind of the person you want flying around fixing things in time and space? Who knows. But at least they are trying. Most of the time the T.A.R.D.I.S. lands somewhere and the authority figures are the most pretentious bull-headed pigs you can find. To me, I laugh cause it seems like both sides end up getting a taste of their own medicine. Usually with the bull charging to death in a sad glory while the Doctor wiles on metaphorically about not being as good as them.

But again, as a "superior" alien with "advanced" technology and "culture" you'd think they'd just know better already. But that's all part of the character. The Doctor may be in flux, but true change is difficult. The real hero of every story is the other people BESIDES the Doctor.

Cause the title is Doctor *Who* . The Who being half of the title, despite having less letters. It's the constant question of "What and why and who is that crazy person that's trying to help?" Why do you think they keep flying back to Earth? (Besides set construction reasons.) They've grown as attached to us as we have to them. And at this point, a lot of their saving us is guilt and embarrassment at having a hand in our timeline.

This is also the same reason the Doctor dumps companions in a fluff. Baggage. Every time a companion gets too heavy to carry the memories of... off they fly.

Except for 13. She's stayed. To this end, we can see how the Doctor changes. Not on our smaller, human timelines, but on the timeline of a god with way too much power.

D. With that in mind, we go Classic. It's the Who you need to consult if you wish to make any critique on what's happening now. Because how can you know how a part operates inside of a whole without seeing the whole part?

Cause I don't know if you've watched it but it can be rough, and I don't mean in the sense of production value (which admittedly they do a fairly decent job of using what money they had. A problem the BBC plagues to Doctor Who to this day.). The 3rd Doctor shits on every one they call friends constantly and then turns around expecting help. 4 did the same. Then 5 masked that contempt with a plucky face and a cheeky word. But it was still there, bubbling out of 6 and 7 as the inability to suffer fools gladly and using their own righteousness to enact change in their companions. A trait that kept going til an entire war and regeneration was used solving the question of "Doctor Who?" Only for them to try and forget twice more by putting on their pretty grinning faces and running away from it.

And I'm only talking from a companion perspective. Each of the Doctors has enacted their own form of genocide on countless species. Sure, it's to "save humans" but at the end of the day you'd have to ask yourself if we're really worth that blood. And this is all in the Doctor's history. As much as they claim better, they're hands are still gushing red.

The Doctor left Jo because she fell in love. They drove Adric to put their life on the line in order to feel adequate. The entirety of the Silurian race has been wiped out fivefold under their watch, with one time by their hand itself. Same for several other singular and unique species you won't be able to find elsewhere in the universe. 7 used time travel to enact a personality change in Ace while simultaneously using her as a pawn in an interdimensional war. The Time War itself. Sure it got erased but the Doctor still did those things ("War" Doctor or whatever nonsense titles they feel necessary to delude themselves). The entirety of Amy's childhood was destroyed by their presence, and Rory got erased. Twice! Sarah Kingdom. We know the list. Hell, the Doctor whisked Barbara and Ian away because they wanted to teach the snobby humans some lessons.

They may have a time machine, but we have the bill of their actions. This is where 13 excels. Because they're trying to be better than themselves. They've learnt the lessons of all those years traveling and the failures they wish they could reverse but don't as a way of keeping a scoreboard of pain. It's not perfect by any means, but look at 12 needing cue cards to understand and react to human grief under duress. They've come a helluva long way. After 50 years, I'm inclined to believe better. After all, it's what the Doctor would want.

E. You know how people like the ASOIAF series because it offers up morally complex characters existing in a morally complex world where black and white are harder to define than grey? Have you ever thought of Doctor Who as the same? Strip past the fairytale and adventure and "wibbly wobbly timey wimeyness and it's just people reacting to situations. We're just harder on the Doctor because they're hard on us. You could go round and round on who's the bigger killer, but at the end of the day Time Lords and humans fight and feel about the same things. It's allways been a joke to pretend otherwise.

That's why I love the Timeless Child. Not for making the Doctor anymore special but for saying that even despite having all of their specialness ripped away and repurposed to create a lie of a society then having the memory wiped of said event, the Doctor broke out of their mold, stole a TARDIS and told the Time Lords to fuck off. That's not a Captain America/Superman hero. That's Batman in space with a society of Lex Luthor's. Gotham and Gallifrey. The Doctor saw what they were a part of and broke free, without even knowing the more horrifying truth. Cause it's the thing I see many fans missing because they're so preocuppied with the Doctor being special. The thing that made the Doctor different was their ability to know the difference and walk away to find better. Now, the Doctor has a reason to go back and find out why they never stopped running.

The Time Lords might be the greatest monsters in the universe. It is in the name. "Lords". Those who would lord over us and impose their will with a banthium fist.

And this is a children's show.

C the thing is, the people who made and make this show all collectively rail against one thing: Hate. Kindness is the way of Doctor's. Even if they're sawing off your leg, it's to do the kindness of saving your life. This is because the people who make this (United Kingdomers) have seen centuries of war and conflict and oppression enacted by their own country in the name of progress. And they want to see it no more. Look no further than any of the Doctor's adventures with UNIT. Allways advocating for peace and being ignored for the comfortable war-cry. It's why it's hard to blame the Doctor when we do very similar and often worse (though we don't have time travel.... yet). The creators of this show know better, see better, and wrote better, to know that the powers that be nipped would nip their creations and sanitize them. So they wrote their messages so strong that you can feel them from the future. They're powerfull enough that even across eras they have all collectively moved me to write this.

That's another point I have to laugh at people saying Doctor Who has never been in your face about progressive politics. The Green Death. Survival. Trial of a Timelord (Yes, all of it. Sit down and power through.) The Happiness Patrol is one of my all time favorite episodes for going there in this regard. People may poo poo but history has its' eyes on you. Doctor Who loves taking potshots at the issues of the day. As long as you don't make the aliens black of course. Make them all the colors of the rainbow but never make them black. That'd be too on the nose (That's something they used to say back in the day! Crazy how far we've come).

So bravoa to Chibnall for continuing the legacy of Doctor Who. From where I'm standing, he's not doing anything different than any other showrunner before him. Cause if you want to argue canon, you at least have to know what created it. This show owes what it is to those Classic eras. And if you think Chibnall is shitting on those years and your childhood.... well, then why did you read this whole thing?

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theamberwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Call Upon Me [Loki x Reader]

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5781

Warnings: None

You had been having a very serene morning. Just enjoying the time alone. You were refreshed, relaxed. You didn’t know what it was, but it felt that it needed to be enjoyed. It must have been to do with the fact that this had been your first real day alone in your new apartment. No friends staying over, no errands to run, or furniture to move. You were alone and could stay home all day to peacefully unpack the last of the boxes.

The serenity followed you to the shower. You mindlessly hummed, a tune you’d never heard but flowed through your mind easily, like a distant memory. Then you began to sing the peaceful tune to whatever words - your language or utter gibberish - that passed through your mind.

“Until we meet again,” you sang, unsure why. But the sad, peaceful melody in your mind seemed to feel like it fit the words. This was felt sparingly between your long lines of peaceful gibberish. Just random syllables and consonance, whatever seemed to fit.

Wrapping yourself in your towel, the song felt like it ended as you left the bathroom door. You made your way to your bedroom down the hall. But the serenity drained as you turned into your room. A very confused man with dark hair and a dark suit was stood there. He was looking around quite thoughtfully.

“What the - how the -” you couldn’t seem to form a sentence. A horrible feeling sank through your body, and you looked for the nearest thing to defend yourself with. But only came up with your flimsy desk lamp.

The man turned to you, and you vaguely recognized the face. He’d been on the TV with the Avengers. But you weren’t sure which side he was on. He was the other Norse God, Loki. He went through many expressions.

First anger, and he opened his mouth to speak. He shut it slightly as shock passed over his face. Then something you perceived as recognition. And a charming grin was spread across his visage. Sadness was in his eyes, though.

“It’s you,” he uttered, then to himself, “You’ve been here this whole time. - Of course, how could I have been so stupid!”

He came towards you, arms spread. But you backed away, raising the lamp. You knew a little about mythology. Loki was the god of lies and mischief. And there was definitely mischief going on.

“Who the hell are you?” You wanted to hear it. Just to confirm. “How did you get into my apartment?!”

“[Name], you called me, don’t you remember?”

“How do you know my name? And how could I call you? I don’t even know you!”

Loki took a step back, lowering his arms. Another set of emotions crossed over his face. Realization, then pain and wounded. “Odin warned me this may happen, I’d never dreamed it would. I thought I’d perfected it. Before we used it.”

“What are you - it doesn’t matter! Just get out!” you yelled, insides trembling. “I-I’ll call the cops! Or the Avengers!”

Loki snapped his fingers. “That’s it. - Dress yourself. We’re going to see my idiot brother.”

“I’m not doing anything, or going anywhere with you!”

You could see him calculate something in his mind. Then Loki sighed and disappeared. You did dress, so you didn’t have to fight in a towel if he came back. And he did, not too long later.

“You’re saying they’ve been in Midgard all this time?” came a different voice from your living room. You’d found your protection bat and took it with you as you crept towards the voices.

“We’d thought they’d been in Asgard,” came Loki’s voice. “Why did we never think to look here?”

“They were your lover, brother. You should have known -”

There was a sigh. “They despised Asgard. So yes, I should have known. Gods know how long they’ve been down here.”

As the room came into view, you found a very large blond beside your earlier intruder. You knew him immediately, Thor. He’d been all over the news recently, and one of your friends had the major hots for him.

“Why don’t we just see what they remember?” said the Thunder God with a shrug.

“They don’t remember a thing, didn’t even know who I was!” hissed the other.

“Why don’t you both get out of my apartment?!” you shrieked, readying your batting stance. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I want no part of whatever As-Ass-Asberd - or whatever the hell - shenanigans or what’s going on!”

“See, they can’t even pronounce it,” groaned Loki hopelessly, gesturing to you.

Thor turned to you then, grinning. “[Name], it’s good to see you! It’s been a few millennia.”

You tightened your grip on your bat, gritting your teeth. “I don’t care if you are an Avenger! You can’t just barge in here and act like you know me! And I’m only [age]!”

“So you really don’t remember a thing?” Thor plopped down on your couch. He cringed then pulled something from under him and tossed it over his shoulder. “Brother, how can that be?”

“Odin warned me about amnesia in the new carnation,” sighed Loki. And suddenly this whole thing made even less sense than it had an hour ago.

“Well then can’t you just -” Thor waggled his fingers in the air.

“What-What is that?”

“You know.” He did it again. “Magic. Hypnotism. Whatever it is you do.”

“I’m not a parlour magician!” snapped the Trickster God. “And this is too powerful to break myself. They’ll have to break it on their own.”

“How?”

“No idea.”

“I have one - why don’t you leave?!” you insisted.

“[Name], drop the bat, it’s not helping,” said Thor removing himself from his seat and coming towards you. You swung, but the only thing dented was the bat. Thor hardly flinched when it hit his arm. “Your arm is good as ever.”

“You don’t seem to be helping either!” you yelled the bat clattering to the ground. “What do you want with me? What have you even been talking about?!”

Thor and Loki exchanged looks. Then the blond gestured to your couch. “It’s a long story. It’s best if you sit.”

You hesitated, but then slowly paced to your sofa. You were on edge as the pair sat near you. Loki pressed anxiously against the end of the couch. Though he tried to be cool. And Thor reclining in your armchair like a throne. You listened to what they told you. But none of it seemed believable. Even coming from two actual gods.

“So what you’re telling me,” you restated, head in your hands. “Is that a few thousand years ago, I was a god in Asgard. And I was in love with…him…”

You gestured to Loki, and he smiled sheepishly. You stared at him a little longer than you should’ve. You could see how it was possible. He was quite handsome after all.

“And I was dying and sick of being a celestial being,” you continued. “So you did a ritual to reincarnate me into a new body. But I was supposed to have all my memories. And that gibberish I was singing in the shower was actually a calling song to bring you to me, even though I don’t even know a hint of Norse..?”

“They get it!” cheered Thor. “Excellent! There, brother, your problem is solved.”

Loki glared. “Not quite. - [Name] doesn’t believe us, do you?”

You shook your head and stood. "I need a minute.”

You didn’t look at them as you went onto your balcony. Then you started freaking out. What the actual hell was all this? Was it an elaborate prank? Though you’d never so much as seen them in your city before! And now all of a sudden, you’re the long lost incarnation of a celestial being?! Not to mention old lover to the Trickster God?

How did you even sing a ‘calling song’? It was all just random gibberish, right? You didn’t know Norse! Could your subconscious know it, if you were reincarnated? Did you even believe in reincarnation?! Did you believe anything they’d told you?

Your mind was like a steam engine going a million miles a minute. Chugging and grinding. Trying to crunch everything together into some form or another of continuous thought. But all it felt like was your train was derailing. You fell into one of the chairs at the little round table you’d recently bought.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” you groaned. “This isn’t possible… right?”

You sat with your head in your hands for a minute or two. Then stood to peek through the curtains on the door. You could see the pair of Gods were arguing about something. Loki was pacing about. But Thor was still comfortable in the chair. Loki glanced at the door, accidentally meeting your eyes. You both quickly turned.

You felt a sharp, painful jolt deep within your being. Something nagged at the back of your mind. A flickering of images that you weren’t quite sure were real. Distant voices coming through that you didn’t recognize. Then suddenly, it was like you were there. Living in the moment. You couldn’t see the door anymore, or the cement of the balcony floor. You were someplace else entirely.

You could hear shoes pattering on the floor, feel your heart pounding in your chest, and cool marble under your palms. Voices echoed from somewhere you couldn’t place. You had the feeling you weren’t supposed to be doing whatever you were. You were urgent, alert; you didn’t want to be found.

“[Name]? [Name]!” called a woman. You couldn’t quite make out her face. You could see her from your hiding spot behind a large marble pillar. “Lord Odin, I do apologize. I had them with me, and then they just ran off! – [Name] you are getting too old for this!”

“Oh, it is fine,” said Lord Odin. You could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

You ran, finding one door and then another. You pushed passed servants, calling apologies in your wake. You wove through the halls until you were outside in the bright Asgardian sun. You were at the top of a long, wide set of ivory steps. You glanced around, making sure no one had followed you. Only to meet the eyes of prince Loki, who was barely older than you. He looked down at you from a balcony of gold.

You groaned, clutching your head. You stepped back, leaning against the railing for support. The palace faded until you were firmly back on your balcony. What was that? That hadn’t ever happened before.

“Wha-What was that? Was that…” you murmured. “A…A memory..? But that can’t…”

You looked back through the door, catching the dark-haired man’s pale eyes again. Nothing this time. But could it have been a coincidence? There was only one way to be sure. Shaking, you decided to go back inside.

Thor stood, mouth open to say something. You cut him off breathlessly, “I might believe you - if you tell me something…”

You relayed your vision. A strange combination of emotions flickered across Loki’s face. It was quiet as you finished.

“It could be a flashback,” offered Thor finally. “But we have no way to know -”

“It was,” Loki snapped. “The first time I’d ever actually seen you.”

“That’s right!” Thor announced suddenly, there was a spark in his eye. “You ran off, [Name], everyone spent hours trying to find you. You and Loki had been hiding in the royal library. Your mother was furious!”

“Father was not pleased either. You had run off before, always just before important meetings. He threatened your kingdom unless…” Loki trailed off.

“Unless you two became betrothed,” finished Thor.

You glanced between them. You hadn’t ever heard of the first marriage of Loki. “But aren’t you like…married to a giantess?”

“Where on earth did you ever get that idea?” Loki’s tone was incredulous. In fact, he looked more wounded than he had before.

“I believe they teach it in Midgard schools, brother,” laughed Thor.

“Such…blatant lies?” Loki was edging on seething.

“But…aren’t you the God of Lies?” you asked, feeling stupid now. “Does that mean you don’t really have a wolf for a son?”

“Wolf?” he asked weakly.

“You know…” you really had to scrape your mind for this one. “Fenrir the wolf, Jormungand the serpent, and Hel who was half alive and half dead. All had by Angrboda. Along with Narfi by Sigyn. Vali, who no one knows who the mother is. And, uh - Sleipnir that you…” you coughed awkwardly. He was staring quite intensely at this new information. His face read that it was all false. “…well, you, uh, gave…birth…to…”

“Brother!” gasped Thor. “You did what?!”

“I did no such thing,” Loki growled. “This is all ridiculous! - Why would I even name my children that? - I have bedded many women, but have no sons. Or daughters, for that matter. And Sigyn and Angrboda of all the giants!”

“Sorry,” you whispered hoarsely. You sank into the nearest seat. Thor couldn’t stop laughing as Loki stormed around the room, muttering angrily about ‘stupid humans’ with their ‘ridiculous stories’. When he was calmer, he dropped back into his seat at the end of the couch. Then you plucked up the courage to speak again, "So…that, what I just saw, was real? I…I actually lived it?”

Loki nodded. “Yes, that happened. If you remember that, then there must be a way to unlock everything else.”

“Hey, whoa,” you said urgently. “I don’t even know if I want to yet!”

“Wha - of course you want to, you’re a divine being! Do you want to stay trapped in this… pathetic existence forever?”

“Maybe I like being normal, ” you countered, knowing it was a half-lie. “What if I don’t even get powers with the memories?! What powers did I have anyway? Also, if I hated being divine before, what makes you think that now would be any different? Besides, why - if it is true - should I fall in love with you again? You did this to me!”

You groaned, a sharp pain shot through the back of your head. And you were dragged down into another time. You were older than the last one. It was pouring, you could feel the icy droplets on your skin. Thunder was cracking deafeningly around you, and lightning was streaked brightly through the sky. You were on a hill, looking down on Asgard.

“You…You did this to me!” you shrieked. Across from you stood Loki.

“I was only trying to help!” he insisted, regret crumpling his features. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“I’m a divine being, a future ruler, and you made me look like a bumbling mortal! - Everything is ruined. I even made my outfit on my own! And you’ve ruined it! You always ruin everything!”

“[Name], please, I’m sure we can sort this out. Come to some sort of agreement. I -”

“You,” you laughed harshly. “You sound just like your father when he made me swear my life to you!”

You felt sick as your surroundings faded back to your apartment. Loki evidently distraught. You coughed, gagging. The phantom agony still twisting in your stomach.

“What - What on earth did you do?” you groaned. “The hill, the storm - you sound like your father..?”

Loki paled and tried to dart from the room. He blathered out an excuse. But Thor caught him and turned him back around. Wrestling him into a chair.

“Get off me!” Loki snapped. Then turned to you. “I may have … accidentally … ruined an extremely important public showcase. In which you were to be officially announced as my betrothed. Thereby ruining your reputation for a year or so.”

You heard Thor utter, “Oh no…not that.”

“What did you do?” you asked.

Loki was silent. He reclined in his chair, avoiding looking at you. Then he sighed, a nervous smirk crumpling his features. “I was young then, to be fair. I mean, that was eons ago, does it really matter?”

“Considering I don’t remember why, yes it does.”

The Trickster God pursed his lips, looking in physical pain. Then he groaned in defeat. “I wanted to show my people what a great warrior you were. And I … transformed … into the one thing you feared most. A creature that had, well, ravaged a better part of your kingdom. And nearly killed you. - I honestly thought you’d fight me. You even let me take a swipe at you, it ruined the lovely outfit you’d made. And you ran off … without even a single blow. Asgard laughed you off.”

“Wow, I…that seems like a really, really stupid idea,” you mused.

“You didn’t talk to me for about a month, if that makes up for anything,” Loki stated matter-of-factly with a shrug.

Thor laughed again. “Yes, he’d even tried to romance you-”

“Shut up!”

“He brought you lots of flowers, and food, and even tried -”

“Brother, no!”

“He tried to write you a song, but he’s never been musically inclined. So then he tried to do a play. Both of which failed miserably. He even tried to get one of the guards to smite him. He sat naked in your courtyard for two days waiting for someone to do it. And then -”

“That’s enough!” Loki looked both entirely devastated, face a nice pink. As well as totally outraged. He looked as though he was ready to rip the Thunder God apart.

“I don’t know why you’re so mad, Loki,” said Thor nonchalantly. “They’d remember anyway.”

You couldn’t contain the laughter. The sheer thought of the man before you doing any of that sent spasms of laughter through you. Your stomach began to cramp, eyes tearing from it.

“Wh-Why were you naked?!” you laughed. “Sorry, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Let’s just … go,” groaned Loki, heading for your door.

“Come now, brother, it was sweet,” Thor said, joining in your laughter. “That’s not even the worst part of it all!”

“Don’t you dare,” warned Loki, his voice low and serious.

“After the guards refused to smite him, he -”

“Enough!” There was a wave of green energy, and Thor toppled backwards. Chair and all going to the floor with a hard thump.

“L-Loki,” you laughed, wiping your eyes. “What did you do?”

He crossed his arms, and stared out the nearest window. When it was evident he wasn’t going to divulge the secret, you sighed. “Give me a few days to make up my mind. I want to know what you did - it might just be worth remembering.”

You smiled at him. Loki looked furious, but conceded. They agreed to give you space, they’d be back at the end of the week. When the pair left, you spent the day pacing aimlessly about your apartment. The boxes you’d planned to unpack left untouched. None of it seemed real. Though you couldn’t deny the pain in Loki’s eyes. Even if he was trying to hide it.

It was absolutely haunting.

No more flashbacks came after that. But the next day was hell. In the morning, your entire body ached. It was like someone had taken a hammer to all of your joints. It was painful to stand, to move even the slightest bit. Around noon came the first hot flash. Like a fire had been ignited in your belly, which then spread through your chest, down your arms, to the soles of your feet and the tips of your fingers. It got hotter until you began to sweat. You ran a cold bath, you could’ve sworn the water steamed as you sunk into it.

You tried to bathe and wash to help you relax. But you were in so much pain, it was blinding. You barely stumbled back to your room and put on the first thing your hands touched. But the fabric seemed like it was ripping your skin off. You nearly screamed at the searing pain.

Flopping on your bed, you could hear voices, see people moving around you in you shadows. There was the feeling of cool cloths on your face. Someone was sobbing on your left, another on the right was holding your hand and mumbling foreign words under their breath. The hotness and pain lasted the entire day. You couldn’t move from your spot. You couldn’t even sleep for sweet relief.

Only at midnight did it all start to fade away. The shadow people disappeared, one by one. Then the crying person. The cloths were removed. But you could still hear strange words in your ear until you fell into a deep black sleep.

The following morning, you were feeling much better. Not even a touch of soreness. You were also starving but had no food. You’d not been to the store for proper shopping yet. Your friends had insisted on eating out, but there wasn’t anything in the way of leftovers. While getting ready, you decided no more singing in the shower. Although you could hear the tune to the Calling Song in your mind. Shower singing was officially banned.

You were glad to have a breakfast place near you. You’d never been in walking distance of anything like that before. It was a cute little place. It had a bunch of round tables, and a long bar with many stools were in front of the large front window. It smelled of coffee, and fresh bread, and something sweet you couldn’t place.

You sat at a small table near the window when your order came out. There was no way you were shopping on an empty stomach. You weren’t even sure you’d make it there without fainting. And your mind wandered. Had the last two days even been real? They had to be, right? And all the pain, what was that?

“Mind if I join you?” asked a voice.

You looked up. So you hadn’t dreamed it all. “Loki - um, yeah. Sure.”

Loki sat stiffly, looking out the window as well. He chuckled. “Well this is familiar, in a way. To me, probably not to you.”

You turned your attention to him, and with a sharp pain the world began to ripple. The restaurant faded to a garden. You were looking at him still, he was making the same perplexed face. But the sun shone down on him, making him truly look like a god. You were at a little round table, huge flowering bushes on either side. You had fancy cups, and little plates with tiny food.

“Are you well, my love?” you asked. Loki’s face softened and he turned to you. Smiling, he took your hands in his.

“Yes, I’m fine. My apologies,” he said. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Something troubles you.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Tell me.”

He took your hand from his face, clutching it again. “It’s nothing.”

“For the God of Lies, you don’t lie to me very well.”

“If you must know, I was thinking of the future,” Loki admitted. “If you keep on this way, we’re not going to have one.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him for the thousandth time. “I’m just…off my game. That’s all.”

“Something’s wrong, can’t you feel it?”

“Nothing is wrong, so long as I’m with you.” And you kissed him firmly, knowing full well that not all was fine.

You whined, coming out of the vision. Being pulled from the padded garden chairs back to the hard plastic seats. The scent of flowers mixed strangely with the scent of coffee. But the face before you was the same. Just the suit had changed.

“Ech, was I always that - mushy?” you asked, cringing. “'Nothing is wrong, so long as I’m with you,’ bleh”

“You could be quite, given the mood,” Loki replied, turning to you. “Then again, can’t we all?”

You both were silent for a few minutes. You avoided eye contact, trying not to get pulled into your old mind again. But then it hit you - what had Loki been doing here anyway? How did he know where to find you?

“Were you following me?” you asked.

Loki flinched. “What?”

“Were. You. Following. Me? You said you’d give me until the end of the week to make up my mind.”

He sat quite still. Then shifted awkwardly. “I was called to your apartment again yesterday. I saw the state you were in. I -”

“What…What was that?” you asked quietly, not sure you wanted the answer. “What was that memory?”

Loki swallowed thickly, hesitating. “That was the first day that we realized you were…dying.”

Your stomach sank. Suddenly you wondered how many of your final days were spent like that. Writhing in pain, your body so hot you probably could’ve set fire to anything just by touching it.

“But there was something else,” he said. “This won’t take long.”

You glanced between him and the door. Then you stood, not looking down at him for fear of another flashback. You shook your head. “No, you said you’d give me until while the end of the week. This counts as interfering. I’m going.”

“[Name] -”

“No! Leave me alone, like we agreed.”

As you began to walk away, you heard Loki’s chair scrape. Then his voice called, “Fine, stay in this feeble body. Go ahead. See what I care!”

Though you in your current life it meant nothing, you felt a jab and an ancient ach in your heart. There was a sharp pain in your head, as you touched the door handle you saw a hundred different doors. Each as different as the next. And his voice echoed the same line a hundred times over, See what I care.

Anger grocery shopping was nearly as bad as hungry shopping. Before you knew it, your cart was piled high with junk food. You had to calm yourself and took your time putting things back. Then took to getting actual food and ingredients. Though you were still furious, he had answered the one question you’d wanted an answer for. How did you die the first time?

Then you began to wonder more. What did you have dominion over? If Loki was the Trickster God and Thor the god of thunder, what were you? And why were you burning when you were dying? Did it have anything to do with your abilities? What made a celestial being die anyway? Such existential questions that you didn’t really want to wonder that early in the morning.

When you returned to your apartment, it seemed like a different place. Instead of the homey feeling it’d gained upon moving in. The space was now strange, alien. It’d been tainted by unreal things. You now feared that one wrong move would cause an unpleasant jab in your head. That you would sink back into a different body, remembering things that didn’t seem yours.

You put the groceries away slowly. Then fiddled with the TV until you could get to one streaming service or another. But you’d only managed to pull up the news. The story the last few days were of the Avengers, but when weren’t they anymore? Some ingenious thing Tony Stark had been planning on unveiling. Loki’s face bobbed in and out of the stories. You shut it off quickly.

There was going to be a memory if you kept watching. You could feel it. But you didn’t want old emotions getting in the way of a new mind. That made sense, right? You couldn’t be biased. If he was telling the truth, then this new life was a clean slate. So far, you hadn’t been impressed by the memories you’d seen. So did you really want it back?

In the following days, you didn’t do much. You could feel a build-up in your mind. Small things began to pull you under. But you pushed them away. You weren’t going to drown in the waves of time. You were worried about what would happen when you finally let one sneak through.

Could you lose all sense of your current self? If you did gain back all your memories, would you still be this you? Or would you be your old you? The thought of losing everything you currently were, everything you’d worked for. All that you currently cared about suddenly meaning nothing - it was terrifying. It was worse than wondering what happened to you after death. Because you would still be living. But would you be trapped in your mind? Just staring out, watching as you did things you didn’t want to?

You spent most of the days in bed, only venturing outside of your room to eat. But even doing this began to dredge up the hotness again. You must not have been able to leave bed much, there at the end. And your old mind was telling your new one as much. But you dreaded the last day of the week much more than anything the hotness did to you. You weren’t sure you’d actually made up your mind yet. You vaguely wondered if Loki was still angry with you.

“Clear and unbiased,” you murmured to yourself. You were waiting for the two gods to show up. They’d never given you a proper time, just a general estimation. But your nerves had you up and ready early. You were pacing, meticulously straightening things to keep your mind occupied. You nearly ran to the door when there was a knock, you wanted this over with.

“Hey - eeeeyyyyyy,” you said, trying to remain cool. It was one of your friends. “Wha-Wha-What, What’re you doing here?”

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” they said. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped your first day alone. - You alright?”

You nodded stiffly. “Mhm, mhm - sorry. I’ve - just - been busy. You know how moving is! Lots of unpacking, and rearranging, cleaning. - Nothing fun. Phone is the last thing on my mind.”

Your friend eyed you, then your outfit. “You’re lookin’ nice. You got a date today? Why didn’t tell me?!”

“Not a date,” you corrected. “A, uh, interview! Video call, it should be starting soon. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay,“ they said suspiciously. "Good luck - text me.”

You sighed in relief as you shut the door behind them.

“I thought they’d never leave,” groaned a voice behind you. You spun around to find the very two people you’d been waiting for standing down the hall in the living room.

"Thor, Loki,” you gasped, quickly walking to them. “It would’ve been nice if you’d told me when you planned on showing up!”

“We’re here,” joked Thor with a grin. You sent a sharp look his way and went to the couch. “How was your week then?”

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Pretty sure I died again a few days ago. And everything little thing tries to dredge up something new. - This isn’t going to stop is it?”

“Probably not,” said Loki, he still seemed miffed. “You’ve started the process, you can’t stop it now.”

You groaned. “But what if I didn’t want this?”

“Then you shouldn’t have sang the damn song!”

“I didn’t know I had until you turned up in my room!"

”[Name], Loki,“ soothed Thor, "what’s done is done. If we can’t stop it, then we might as well help it along. C'mon - it’ll be fun to have you around again!”

“What happens if I don’t want to?” you yelled, staring Loki down. Something about this felt familiar. “What happens if you just go away and never come back?!”

A severe jab in the temple sent you to the floor. Images flew passed your eyes, faces you didn’t know, all blurring together. You could hear soft voices, which then turned into cries and screams. You were getting very hot again. You could smell smoke, but not like anything you’d ever smelled before. It was - sulfuric, was the best way to describe it. You streaks of red, of fire and blood and something else.

You were hot, absolutely burning. You screamed as something icy was poured over you again and again. It felt like it was peeling your skin away. But then the burning cooled until you felt like yourself. You could sit up now, but were devastated to find scorch marks on the floor under a layer of water. You were going to have to pay for that.

“What, What happened?” you choked, your throat felt burnt. You put a hand to your aching head.

“Your answer,” said Loki softly. “You’ll burn.”

“Why? Why all the pain and the burning?” you whined, flopping back into the water.

“You were the being of volcanoes, fire, and hot springs, what do you expect?” asked Thor.

You threw an arm over your face. “That answers multiple questions I had.”

You sat up, pulling yourself onto your sofa. You were drenched, but you didn’t care. Loki still stood, but Thor was back in the armchair. Both appeared equally concerned.

“So I’ll - burn up - if I don’t choose to remember,” you stated quietly.

“This body can’t take the power within,” explained Loki, sitting. “The ritual didn’t work like it was supposed to. It was supposed to take away your powers completely, but keep your memories. It seems to have temporarily taken away both. And if you don’t get back to a celestial state - we’ll have to watch you die all over. And Odin knows I refuse to go through that again!”

He cringed as he caught his last words. You caught Thor smile at his brother before saying, “And you’ll get to be with him all over again - if that’s a good thing.”

“What if the old memories don’t convince me to love him?” you asked flatly. You didn’t want to fall in love with someone just because of who you used to be. This seemed to catch both gods off guard.

“Well then allow him to win you again.”

“You mean properly?” you corrected. “I had to be sworn to marry because I kept running away, remember.”

“Excellent!” Thor cheered. Loki looked devastated, you could tell he just expected it all to fall into line on its own. “Allow Loki a year -”

“Six months,” you countered.

“Six months then. - To woo you properly. To try to unlock your memories. How does that sound, brother?” Thor was giving him a hopeful grin.

“I suppose I have no choice,” Loki sighed.

“Fine - then you have six months to help return my memory. Along make me fall in love with you again,” you agreed.

“I just fear,” Loki said sternly, turning to you. “ That we may not have that much time, pet.”

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