#ill be taking one for the team and crying in public whether they want me to or not

[cloneboywonder]

my brother on the verge of a complete stress induced psychotic breakdown

[squishy-mochi-is-bright-pink]

hi! uh—sorry if this is confusing, it’s my first time making a request. uhm—i’ve just been feeling rlly down lately and was considering self harm. so, if it’s okay with u, can i request for tsukishima/sakusa/osamu (u can choose if doing all is too much) seeing their s/o with a fear of sharp objects about to self harm but not going through with it and them comforting their s/o? u dont have to do it tho if ur not comfortable with it, i just wanted to try asking :)

Characters: Tsukishima and Sakusa

CW: self harm, sharp objects

Genre: comfort

Word count: 1, 616

Summary: You've been struggling with thoughts of self harm, which then lead you to a fear of sharp objects. Your boyfriend notices and tries his best to help you.

A/n: your request wasn't confusing at all, don’t worry. So sorry I didn't get around to writing Osamu but I hope this is alright. if you ever need someone to talk to im here, or you could request as much or as little as you want. Just remember self harm isn't the answer, alright? Remember you're loved <3

Tsukishima

Okay, so even though everyone says that Tsukishima doesn’t care or isn’t a good boyfriend to you that is a big fat lie and you know it. This boy is super observant. ESPECIALLY when it comes to you.

You’re his baby and the love of his life, and one way he shows his love to you is by paying attention to everything you do and acting accordingly. He’s usually subtle about it though. You shiver? Oh, look extra hoodie. Tense up when one of your classmates approaches the two of you? Oh no something came up with the team and you’re both required to solve it.

Slight rant aside, he notices immediately that something is wrong. It may take him a little bit to figure out what exactly but he’s looking into it immediately. By the end of the day, he’s checked with your friends if anything is bothering you, he’s found out whether or not you are behind on work or if school is stressing you out. But nothing.

Luckily for him, it was Friday, thus, he was coming over to your house after school (practice). Usually, he’d come over and do some homework then you’d watch a movie together and honestly you could use some affection right now.

When he arrived at your house you were already showered, dressed and waiting at the table to start your homework. He came in and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and sat down across from you, he’d already changed into casual clothes after practice.

Tsukishima exalted deeply for the first time that day and let himself relax now that he was alone with you. He’d spent his entire day trying to figure out what was up since you’d been acting weird for a little while now and he was back to square one. Nobody he’d asked knew anything that might have upset you, and he’d asked a lot of people. More accurately he’d asked Yamaguchi to since he knew people found Tadashi less intimidating. However, he still hadn’t had any luck in narrowing down the issue.

You seemed to be focused on whatever work you where doing so he decided to do some of his own work and ask you about it during the movie. He pulled out his maths book and a pencil from his pocket to begin working on the algebra homework.

After around thirty minutes of working together with some lofi playing in the background and occasionally asking for help from one another, his pencil lead snapped in the middle of an equation. Slightly irritated, he went to his bag to retrieve a sharpener but couldn’t find his pencil case. Shit, he must have left it in his desk. Oh well, he won’t need it till Monday anyway.

  “Hey, Shortcake,” that stupid nickname he’d gave’ you made you look over to him “do you have a pencil sharpener? My pencil case is at school.” At the mention of a sharpener, you squeaked out no far too quickly. Okay, somethings up. He’s sure of it now. 

So he gently set down his pencil and placed one of his hands on yours. When you looked up and made eye contact you could see how concerned he looked. Though it isn’t just concern, there’s something soft and loving there too. It’s because of this that you just aren’t able to break the eye contact, even though you’d much rather check your house slippers for bits of dust. 

“Baby,” he starts softly, “I know somethings up. You’ve been different for a few days now. And as long as you’ve been in my class you’ve never forgotten your stationary. Do you want to talk about it? Or we could do something else if you want.” By now there were tears beginning to slowly roll down your cheeks and Kei had gotten up to wrap you up in a hug. “Come one baby.” he says as he guides you over to the couch to sit down.

Once he had you settled in beside him he started to rub gentle circles on your back and waited patiently for you to calm down enough to talk to him. Once you had calmed down a little you began to explain everything. From the thoughts of self-harm to avoiding anything sharp or dangerous just in case. And he just sat there and listened. All the while gently rubbing circles and patterns into your back. He listened to every word you said and took it all in making sure to give little nods or hums of acknowledgement, enough to let you know he was listening without interrupting you.

When you’d finally finished telling you everything he simply scooped you up in his arms and hugged you as tight as he could. “Baby, Y/n. I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong and I’m so glad you didn’t do anything.” he gently kissed the top of your head and whispered, “I love you so much.” 

You snuggled further into him and he turned the tv to your comfort movie, even if he didn’t love it or would much rather watch a documentary about dinosaurs.

Sakusa

Sakusa is another boy who people wrongly assume is a bad partner. I object. Although he is slightly more hesitant when it comes to physical affection in public he’s one of the best boyfriends you could ever ask for.

Generally, when the two of you hang out he has a routine to ensure there is no fear around germs and he can be as affectionate as he wants. You both take showers and change into freshly washed clothes when you arrive at either home before you spend time together.

Because of how naturally observant this boy is, and the number of showers he’s had to take at your house he has your shower products almost memorised. He knows what they are, what they do and where they go. Honestly when you’re running low on something he’s more likely to notice than you are. And of course, being the loving boyfriend he is, he’ll remind you to add it to your shopping list or even go shopping with you.

This mans love language is probably quality time or acts of service, so if there’s an opportunity to give you a hand or just spend time with you he’ll take it.

Today was just another day, well not exactly, Sakusa was coming to spend some time with you today, which honestly was not rare at all. You had both fallen into a steady routine of taking showers and changing before spending time together. He would never ask you to do it but you knew it made him more comfortable. Plus he far preferred your shower to the locker room one.

So as always he walks into your house, puts his bag on the table and walks to your bathroom to take a shower. When he’s in the shower he notices that your razor is missing from its normal spot. He thought that was a little bit odd. Mostly because he has never seen your razor missing before. Any time he noticed something was missing before it was always just running low on shampoo, or body wash or only having one bar of soap left.

It isn’t that weird so he just makes a note to himself to remind you about it later like he always does. Once he’s finished and changed into his favourite sweats and second favourite hoodie (you’re currently wrapped up in his favourite). He goes to your room and curls up beside you as you’re preparing to put on a movie.

By the time Sakusa had remembered what he needed to remind you of the movie had been playing for around 20 minutes. So he decides to just wait until after the movie to bring it up. With that decision made he just decides to focus on the movie and how you feel giving him cuddles.

After the movie was all finished and you and Omi where cleaning up, when he brought up the missing razor. “Hey baby, remember to add razors to your shopping list. Yours is missing” he mentioned as he placed your throw pillows back on your bed. He paused in the middle of fixing your pillows, that was not the reaction he expected. Something was up. When he turned around and saw you near tears he rushed over to check on you.

“Baby, talk to me whats wrong?” hes says in the most soothing voice he can muster when he reaches you. You dont respond, just crying a little harder and hugging him back. “Its,” you sniffled a little, “its nothing Omi. Ill be fine” you sniffled again trying desperately to pull yourself together.

Sakusa pulled out the handkerchief he kept for you in his pocket. And by the time you'd told him everything he was crying too holding you. "it's gonna be alright baby. I'm here, we're gonna get through this together."

You fell asleep holding together, knowing that you weren't alone. And wouldn't be as long as you have him and he isn't leaving any time soon

[scrawnytreedemon]

Can’t sleep, mind going precisely 56 miles an hour, so I think I’ll finally get around to writing this.

Couples days back, I went ahead and finally psyched myself up to do the Zant bossfight.

Because I’d picked up where I’d left off yesterday, which was just before the boss room, obviously I was taken back to the beginning of the area. This gave the whole ordeal a trek, if a short one, what with the Palace of Twilight’s laughable length, and me more time to think.

I didn’t want to do this.

It sounds stupid, but I really didn’t want to do this. I’d cried the day before trying to psych myself up and failing, and I’d cried then, before the boss door, stalling by sweeping away the crystal-fog as best I could-- A meagre attempt at housekeeping, and a futile one. Of course I couldn’t. This isn’t that sort of game. This isn’t a game for failed attempts at kindness, at least trying to clean this awful, awful place for an awful, awful man going through awful, awful things. I was supposed to be a hero.

Heroes don’t make beds.

They don’t wash dishes, or hang laundry, or hold a rival’s hand,

They kill.

The trek didn’t stop past the door, either.

We still had to walk up the stairs. To the throne.

To him.

And I was there, laugh-crying, wishing I didn’t have to. That I could skip this pathetic ordeal.

I tried to turn around and leave.

Despite it only looking like a larger one of the many, many doors we’ve passed through this awful, nonsensical, poorly-designed excuse for a palace that no one could ever live in, it didn’t budge. There wasn’t any turning back. I had to go forward, because this is an action game, and violence is key.

The game takes the reigns. Link walks up to the throne, sword drawn, despite my deliberate decision to sheathe it. The narrative begins again. Midna sneers, and throws a taunt at him.

Zant sits, and smiles. Smiles like he thinks he still has some form of control, or knows full well he’s lost it.

You know, when I was working through the Palace of Twilight, I’d come to the realisation that... Zant locked himself in the throneroom. From the outside. Logistically, despite the good laugh I had over this guy locking himself in from the fucking outside, where his opponents can grab the key, he could get out easily-- teleportation and all. But even that aside, it still spoke to a level of hasty panic, that he would even keep the key outside, behind a waterfall of yet more shitty fog-crytals in the hopes that would deter them. Deter us.

How long had the guy been here, alone in that room?

We all know what happens next. Despite this being my first playthrough, I’ve probably seen this cutscene a dozen times. Zant has what amounts to an overly-dramatised autistic meltdown expositing himself and his motivations. That he was upset and felt like everything he’d worked for had been taken away from him. That he was angry, angry and fed up of being relegated to a half-existence. Midna retorts, Zant wails some more.

What gets me is that, when Ganondorf visits him, engulfs him in this flaming ball of fucked-magical-fuckery, he just. Stares. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. Ganondorf speaks as though he’s already decided that, yes, you will do, we will make a pact and rule Everything together; I will live on through you.

Did Zant even agree to this?

I think, subconsciously or not, he accepted it, but it begs the question of whether or not Zant was capable enough to partake in it.

Whatever the answer, he’s clearly not capable enough to partake in this. This fight.

It’s laughable, that I’m expected to find victory in this.

The fight was a fucking slog, 90% of the time. Some of these boss-battles I hadn’t played in nearly two years thanks to the impromptu hiatuses I’m so fond of taking, so I didn’t know what the fuck I was meant to be doing half the time-- And when I did, it lagged to shit everytime this poor bastard fired projectiles, because I was playing on the gamepad, because why on earth would I play this on the goddamn TV? It was a sad, pitiful encounter that I had to laugh my way through and also mumble “what the fuck“ on several occasions because I guess somebody at Nintendo ate cheese before bed and the dev team were so desperate to patch something together for this guy’s sudden crisis that they threw it in-- I’m obviously having a good laugh, but What The Fuck.

I knock the guy down in the last phase of the battle, the only one where he isn’t mimicking something else and dizzies himself spinning like a hyperactive child, and the game takes the reigns again. Midna prepares her hair. I look away-- I’ve seen it before, many times before, and it’s cartoonishly grotesque for a game that relies heavily on somber semi-realism. Midna has her own crisis-- And yeah, yeah bossbabe, I feel it.

It cuts back, and there’s a Heart Container on the guy’s throne.

I.

I killed a guy, and now I’m collecting his lifeforce. I stormed into the bunged-up attempt of a fortress conjured up as a last defense by a man who’s fallen head-first into insanity, tore through any meagre security measure like butter, murder the guy when he’s having an episode, he dies a fucked up death, and then I collect his lifeforce.

Is that fucked up or what?

For all of Zelda’s endless violence, rarely do you actually kill “people.“ It’s the kind of stuff reserved for the end, for Ganondorf, or some other corrupted nigh-demigod on the brink of losing their humanity, or never having possessed it.

We kill Zant.

Zant barely puts up a fight, and we kill him. Zant gets summoned from the netherworld by Ganondorf in Hyrule Warriors; we put him there in the first place.

If we were to view this from a literal, like this shit actually happened and these characters are to be held accountable standpoint, then what we did was justified-- If not wholly, then mostly. Zant got power-hungry, committed what amounts to a bio-terroristic coup on the government, disfigured his rival, a woman notorious for her beauty, then proceeded to attempt the same thing with Hyrule, leading to the indirect death of at least the people who got transfigured into Shadow-Beasts in Kakariko, and attacks you first, then yeah, no biggie?

But I’ll be fucking real with you chief, I don’t find it... I don’t know, persuasive? Effective? Compelling, would be the best word, to think of it that way?

What Zant is, is a narrative tool. One that was set up to be this big, bad interloper who you need to Take Down and Save Everything, as per usual Zelda format. The justification for why we should hate him, if I’m going to be honest, feels contrived, most of the time. He does some bad thing off-screen, Midna gets pissed, Midna and everyone within a 12-mile radius explains why we should be pissed in a way that often feels borderline developer-hand-y-- And that’s. Well that’s how Zelda usually is.

It’s justification to commit violence.

--To be clear, I don’t say this in a political sense. I mean it in the very literal “hit/kill a guy“ sense. And in all honesty, that’s kinda inherent to the ethos of action games. We enjoy catharsis-- We enjoy taking down big things, it’s satisfying! I’ve played a little Hyrule Warriors-- Loved the feel of it. Violence is inherent to even the most benign of action games, and it is what it is.

Where it falls short for me, is that with Zant, I don’t feel like I’m taking down some great foe that I should justifiably hate.

I feel like I’m a clearly more equipped person breaking into a room, and bludgeoning a mentally ill person.

I’m autistic. I may slot in easier to NT society than most, but I am autistic, and it makes me deeply uncomfortable to see something I’ve fucking gone through be used carelessly as flavour for a prelude to violence. I have meltdowns. They’re relatively rare, and mostly in my room, alone, but I’ve also experienced one out in public. It was only sobbing, but there’s a special kind of horror, of humilation in knowing other people, strangers, family, what have you, are seeing it, and all you can think is how much you failed.

I can’t fully articulate why I cried so much during this, quite frankly, menial ordeal. I’m half-embarrassed to even talk about it-- Because then that means caring too much, and I can’t care too much over a poorly-justified character that wasn’t even intended to be sympathised with and that most of the fandom laughs at. And I can’t say I blame them.

I guess at the end of the day it comes down to the ever-present pity; some strange, childish commiseration I’d indulged in ever since I was six and cooing over Bowser and how awful everything was for him, that despite my continuous efforts, I can’t ever seem to explain.

I didn’t like the Zant fight. It felt empty,

And all did was sweep cobwebs and try to turn back.

[m-y-fandoms]

Danganronpa 1 Girls: adopting an abused child - Headcanons

Request: If it's okay, the DR1 girls with an adopted child that was previously in an intensely abusive living situation? The kid is extremely traumatized by the experience, and is very quiet, fearful and suffers frequent breakdowns and nightmares.

Part 2: Oh! Adopted abused child for DR1 girls anon here... To specify, headcanons.

Of course! A unique request. I’m gonna write this assuming they’ve had the child in their home for a while, maybe a few years, and you can headcanons the girls’ partners versus if they are single moms on your own. This will just be how the DR1 girls treat their adopted, previously abused child. - Mod Kokichi

WARNINGS: past child abuse implied/referenced. Trauma/panic attacks and anxiety

Aoi Asahina:

The queen of three things: sweets, sports, and positive attitudes.

She would definitely use these three skills/interests of hers to help the previously abused child she adopted.

First of all, she’d chosen this child in particular because she saw their profile and asked about them. Her big heart wouldn’t allow her to abandon a child that’s clearly been through a lot of suffering, especially not after her own experience in the killing game.

Despite whether or not she had a partner, she’d want kids when she was able to responsibly care for them. Also, her experience as a big sister would prepare her for kids a little better than an only child.

Sweets: having a panic attack? Here’s some home-made cookies. Bad day at school? Let’s strap on an apron and bake together tonight. Stayed up late with insomnia or nightmares? Well good news, doughnuts for breakfast the next morning!

Sports: being athletic and active herself, Hina would encourage her child to enter team sports to get better at socializing and just learn important motor skills, but she wouldn’t force them into it, knowing crowds or loud noises may overstimulate them.

Maybe she’d have them start small. Table tennis or private swimming lessons. When and if they were ever ready, soccer or lacrosse on the school’s team.

That’s not to say she wouldn’t love and appreciate a more artistically or mathematically inclined child. Sports or not, she’d find a way to use their inherent skills to better them. She’s not one to give up on the people she cares about.

Positive attitudes: slip-ups and panic attacks are nothing to get discouraged about! She would stay up all night with a child going through anxiety, assure them that this too shall pass, and use positive reinforcement.

Sakura Ogami:

Another mom who would seek out sports as a way to ease her child’s suffering.

But unlike Asahina, she’d see sports as more of a way to teach perseverance and self-discipline rather than social skills.

She would want them to learn some type of martial art. It would teach balance, strength, inner-peace, and erase self-doubt.

Plus, learning martial arts would help teach self-defense. She would never want her child to go out until the word helpless and not knowing how to defend themselves should they absolutely have to.

She would enjoy reading to her child at night, and talking at length with them about what was bothering them. She would let them cry onto her strong shoulders, and offer stoic wisdom. She’s like, super good at giving advice.

Loves them unconditionally, is fiercely protective and loyal. A very supportive and loving mother.

Shells out the cash for any and all therapy they need, physical and psychological. She doesn’t see mental illness as a weakness.

Celestia Ludenberg:

This mom, instead of teaching a child to ignore trauma and bullies - be they internalized and metaphorical or external and corporeal - would teach her child how to face their obstacles head on.

Bullies at school? Well we’ll handle that. “They won’t be a problem anymore, trust me.”

PTSD and past trauma? Well we will sit here and talk about these weaknesses until they become our strengths. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and you’ll be undefeatable after all you’ve been through.”

This child will be spoiled, but not in a bratty way. They will simply wear the best clothes, eat the most expensive food, and attend the best schools.

Celestia would play endless card and board games with her child to keep their mind off of darker thoughts.

“Moooom, you cheated again!”

“Oh? Did I~?”

“Yes!” A disgruntled but reluctantly amused smile.

“Well~ I think it is simply that you don’t know how to play this game yet. But one day, you will.”

Kyoko Kirigiri:

At first, it may take her a while to open up and truly be the best mother she can be.

But she understands wanting more from a parent-child relationship, and after a while of doubting herself, would buckle down and do what she needs to do.

Wouldn’t be as pushy with talking about triggering subjects, or entirely comfortable giving advice either.

But is a terrific listener/observer. She walks in after work and sees her kid crying alone in their room. They’d remembered something scary, something they didn’t want to think about, they said.

“I see...well, do you want to talk about it?” And she’d sit there by their bedside until she was sure they didn’t need her any longer.

If single: definitely has a big house, a reputable maid, a nanny, a nice car in the driveway, but still insists on personally packing her kids lunch with a little encouraging sticky note inside.

If she has a partner: can be convinced to be more involved and slowly but surely becomes more hands-on and soccer-momish, minivan and all. Sees her partner’s own parenting skills as a challenge to step it up. Kyoko has all the makings of a great mother, she just won’t let herself see it. A partner would be just the push she needs: a Watson to her Holmes.

Toko Fukawa (I watched the anime and played the three main games so if her personality changes drastically in ultra despair girls and I’m way off I apologize):

Toko knows childhood regret, trauma, nightmares. She understands feeling isolated and different. She would be a very clingy and coddling mother.

If you ever touched a hair on her child’s head, you better just execute yourself before she does.

Sure she’s not the most confident or kind person on her own, but we’ve seen how devoted to and possessive she is of people she cares about.

She’d read to her child nightly, but only what she deemed to be the best children’s literature, of course.

Would love her child more than she loved her own partner. She would feel needed, like someone depended on her for once instead of her tagging along behind someone else.

I think as she boosts her child’s confidence and social skills, her own would grow along with them.

I know she’s getting better every day at controlling her inner demons, and her other half, Syo (I watched like two hours of UDG gameplay so I know this much) but I think she’d be extra careful and determined to have full control once becoming a mother.

Sayaka Maizono:

I think she would see music as an outlet for a hurting child.

Another girl who would have hella money, so she wouldn’t hesitate to get her kid lessons from the best instructors, be they voice or instrumental lessons.

And when her child mentions feeling uncomfortable about leaving the house for unnecessary reasons, especially for going to a public, noisey studio, she would pay extra to have the instructor come to them.

To her, music heals the soul.

When they have nightmares, she’s the most likely of the girls to sing lullabies, being the most talented and confident in her singing voice.

She would definitely want to be a mother one day, but with her time-consuming job, might find adoption easier and less compromising to an idol’s “flawless” body (her manager’s opinion more than her own ugh).

She’d use her intuitive “psychic” abilities to sense when her child was having a particularly rough day, or having more depressing thoughts. I think she’d be one of the ones more suited to deep conversations and true motherly advice.

Junko Enoshima:

I honestly don’t think she’d adopt a child for any wholesome or selfless reason.

She’d adopt a child with PTSD or past trauma in order to feed off of their despair or to teach that already hurting child to hurt others.

She’d be drawn to the more chaotic and/or mentally unwell children, but it would be a mistake to let her near them.

Junko is selfish in every way and would only adopt a child to carry on her evil lineage.

It may not even go that far. She may get bored of them or decide they aren’t worthy of becoming her protege and just dispose of them like an old play thing.

(Sorry Junko stans but I’m not about to pretend she’s just a bratty, preppy rich blonde mean girl type. She’s a selfish and abusive psychopath lmao)

Mukuro Ikusaba:

Another one who probably shouldn’t be a mother.

I do feel bad for her though. Much like Korekiyo, I think their siblings both abused and manipulated them from a young age. They never learned any differently. Still she’s responsible for her bad choices in the series.

Without Junko’s influence, I believe she would be fiercely protective of a child, much like an obsessive mother bear once she retired from mercenary work for good.

But unfortunately, she’s given her life to her abusive sister.

If she had a child, they would either be neglected because she spends all of her time serving Junko or away on dangerous mercenary missions.

Or they would be trained to be an abused slave to their aunt Junko just like Mukuro is.

Junko may manipulate Mukuro into adopting a child, saying things like: “you’re more of the mommy type than me!” Or, “yeah I totally think a despair filled child would be good for you! You could teach it to like kick ass and shit!”

This of course, was all a way to get Mukuro to do all the work of actually raising the child, while Junko warped both of their minds to her cause.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 6: LAID BARE

Word Count: 4970 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: M Content Warnings: childhood poverty, discussion of theft/thievery, discussion of death, discussion of childhood illness Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Revelations || Masterlist

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Your eyes traced the flicker of headlights through the narrow half-window as you tried to gather your thoughts into some sort of sense. You wanted to tell him everything. But what did that even mean anymore?

“So what is it you want to talk about?” Diego asked finally, cutting through the waiting silence. 

“Actually,” you looked down at your fingers where they rested on the tabletop, tracing anxious shapes against the laminate. “I know a lot more about you, by virtue of your very public childhood, than you know about me. Which I think, is part of the problem here. So the better question is, where do you want to start?”

“Alright,” he was silent for a moment, jaw twitching as if he was working the words over in his mouth before he said them. “Why do you get so defensive when I say you could do more with your powers, and your skills?”

“Because it’s judgmental, it relies on untrue assumptions, and I don’t like having other people’s will imposed on me,” you explained, face twisting wryly.

“Tell me the truth then.”

“What?”

“If my assumptions aren’t true, set the record straight.”

“You aren’t going to like what I have to say.”

“Now who’s the one making assumptions?”

You sighed. “It’s a long story, especially if I start at the beginning. So you might want to make yourself comfortable.”

He shifted in the hard plastic chair across from you, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, waiting expectantly.

“Your ‘father’ tried to buy me too, when we were babies,” you couldn’t help throwing air quotes around the word and he smiled at the gesture. “But my parents were stable. They both had jobs; they already had one child and were thinking about trying for another anyway. So they said no. And then my dad died, in a workplace accident, because his boss cut corners to save time and money, and things got hard. And the bastard never got punished for it, or even had the decency to pay for the funeral.”

He looked like he was going to say something, some comment of pity or sympathy and you held up a hand to stop him, knowing that if he did, you would fall apart and never finish telling him what he needed to know, what you needed him to know.

“Your dad showed up again, offered her literal millions to let him have me. At least twice that I know of, but there could have been more. But she was as stubborn as they come. I was her daughter and he wasn’t getting me over her dead body. But a florist’s salary really isn’t enough to raise two kids on. Eventually, I realized that my abilities were things no one else could do, and figured out that I could use them to get things. So when money was skint, Daniel and I could still eat properly; rice and beans can only get a kid so far you know. Or we could have clothes that fit and didn’t have holes without bothering her.”

You shrugged, looking away from the growing ache on his face to stare at some spot on the wall. It had just been the facts of your reality. 

“And then I found that bigger risks meant bigger rewards. I could give her money or things, nice things like she deserved. She would cry and get so mad at me, but she always took them and life seemed to get better.”

“Y/N….” he reached out across the table to take one of your hands, which you hadn’t noticed was getting more and more fidgety as you spoke. 

“I grew up. I realized it wasn’t just us. I figured out how to take care of myself, got a job that let me keep a roof over my head and food in the cupboard. Daniel had his own shit figured out, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone else. But all those other people needed someone to look out for them. And if the people I happen to take things from are the kind that exploit their workers or cheat their taxes instead of paying their fair share, who…cut corners and skimp on safety, who’s it hurting?”

You finally turned your eyes back to him, a challenge sparking in them to tell you that you were wrong.

“So it’s what? Karma with you as it’s righteous deliverer?” He asked.

You pursed your lips. He still wasn’t getting it. 

“Even with what I take, those people have more than they need. And now, kids get proper care; families don’t have to decide between going hungry and getting the lights turned off.” You shook your head. “I don’t know how to put it any simpler than that.”

He frowned. “I don’t...get it. I’m sorry, I’m trying to understand but…”

“Okay, how about an example then. When I stole from that museum, you know the one…”

He smirked at the memory.

“There was this kid. Rare terminal something, something. I don’t remember the details of it. Just that I was able to anonymously pay for the experimental treatment that he needed and he got to live to see twelve. His foster parents and the social worker didn’t have to worry about going bankrupt or applying to the state and praying they’d get funds. And all it cost was one less shiny rock, that some exploited worker probably died to fish out of the ground, wasting space on display.”

“You know,” he said off-handedly as if it wasn’t an obvious attempt to deflect, “the kinds of people that can afford to buy those things aren’t any better than the people you’re stealing from. In fact, they’re probably worse if they’re willing to buy from a fence.”

You rolled your eyes. “So? I’ll just rob them blind to fund a school or whatever later.”

“There’s got to be a better way,” he sighed. “One that isn’t criminal.”

“You find it for me then, Diego,” you snapped. “I’m doing the best I can to help as many people as possible with what I’ve got. And sure maybe there’s a little bit of a revenge angle but who cares? Every one of those assholes deserves it.” 

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, certain that you were losing him, that even after you had ripped your chest open and exposed your bleeding heart for the taking, he was going to ask for you to choose between him and your morals, your passions, things that made up the very fiber of your being.

He stood up, circling the table to kneel in front of you again. His hands came up to cup your face and he brushed away the moisture that leaked down your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“Okay,” he said softly, eyes boring into yours. 

 “Okay? What does that mean, ‘okay’?”

“I still don’t like it,” he started and you growled in frustration before he stared you down. “But...I understand. And I’ll try to stop fighting you on it, judging you for it.”

“Do you actually?” you asked.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he pulled back, not moving away completely, but enough that his hands were no longer on you and you felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

“I don’t know. It’s just this feeling I have. Like I can say whatever I want and tell you my life story in every explicit detail, but…I’m scared that you’re just saying those things to placate me. And that doubt is going to eat me alive.”

“What do you want me to do then, Y/N?”

“Work with me?” you suggested.

“I’m trying,” he countered, frustration leaching into his tone now. 

“No. I mean….Work one job with me, start to finish. Let me show you.”

“You want me to help you steal something?”

“Steal it. Sell it. Put it to good use. Together, as a team, the whole way through.”

“I…” he swallowed before nodding. “Alright.”

Plowing onward, not even registering his answer, you rambled, explaining that you weren’t expecting him to give up being a vigilante or go rogue and that if at any point he wanted out you’d let him, that you would even let him turn you over to the cops, as long as it wasn’t Eudora, if that was what he wanted, you just couldn’t take the doubt anymore. And then your mind caught up to reality and came to a screeching halt.

“Wait, really?” you asked incredulously. 

You had been expecting him not only to say no, but to get angry at the suggestion, bracing yourself for the inevitable complete rejection of it, maybe even of you, and trying to counter it preemptively.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “If you come with me for a night in return. Try things my way too. I…I want there to be an us, and if this is what it takes for there to even be a chance of that, I’m willing to do it.”

You stared, stunned.

“Sounds like a fair trade,” you murmured eventually. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about…this…” you gestured between the two of you, indicating what you meant.

“Of course I do, I l—“ he cut himself off, looking away with a clenched jaw, nervous tension practically vibrating his whole body.

“One other thing?” you said, biting your lip.

“What?”

“We’re both terrible at communication, and trust,” you observed. “I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

He caressed your cheek once more, smiling softly. “I’ll try to be better if you will.”

You leaned in. “Deal.”

He closed the last gap of centimeters between you, pressing his lips to yours. You slowly sat back up, guiding him into a position hovering over you in the chair as his mouth chased where yours led, refusing to be parted from you. His tongue trailed hesitantly over your bottom lip, and you parted eagerly for him, losing yourself for a blissful moment in the kiss. 

“What time is it?” you mumbled reluctantly between kisses. 

“Why does it matter?” he countered, trying to shift you into a position more comfortable for you both.

“I have work. And you have streets to patrol. Although I know that’s far less exciting without your ravishing nemesis about,” you teased, breaking the kiss completely now.

“Mm...ravishing…” he muttered, eyes closed and face dazed. “I’d like that.”

You laughed. “You weren’t listening at all were you?”

He shook himself, blushing slightly as he opened his eyes to look at you.

“I appreciate your careful nursing, and this talk was...good, necessary, important. I don’t know. But I really do have to go.”

He sighed, sulking. “I know. Fine. I...I’ll see you later?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you smirked. “Maybe we can revisit the whole, ravishing idea.”

~

Several days later, Diego came over to your apartment. You had suggested it under the guise of, at least partially true, a need to start planning for your heist together. But really, you just wanted to see him again, to spend some time with him now that there was, properly, something between you. 

Your stomach twisted nervously in anticipation, realizing that this was another big step, one quickly after the other, letting him into your home. It had always been your safe place to hide, your sanctum, and you were disrupting that with a new presence. 

But, you reminded yourself, he wasn’t the first (though the total number was incredibly small), and he had already let you into his, even so far as to let you stay there. And you trusted him. More than anyone, save maybe your brother. So it wouldn’t be so bad. 

You were just putting the finishing touches on the pot of cheesy mashed potatoes you had made when the intercom buzzed, indicating someone was at the building’s outer door and wanted to be let in. You hastily crossed the room to press the unlock button and the talk button at the same time.

“It’s open,” you called through the speaker.

There was no response but you heard the odd echo of the door opening and shutting and clicked off the box. A few moments later, someone knocked on your door. Despite knowing there was only one person it could be, you stood on your toes to look through the little peephole before sliding the chain aside and letting Diego in.

“Do you always just unlock your door for strangers?” he asked.

“Hmmm, no. Only the tall, dark and handsome ones.” 

You threaded your arms around his neck to greet him with a quick kiss, shaking your head and laughing when he responded with a hand on your backside.

“Something smells amazing,” he said as you pulled away and returned to the stove to finish the rest of dinner.

“Well, I figured since you were coming over, and our little...project was probably going to take a while, I should make food.” You shrugged, placing two steaming plates on your coffee table and gesturing for him to come sit beside you on the couch. “It’s not Michelin star or anything…”

He shoveled up a bite of the garlic-roasted vegetables and groaned in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect,” he countered around the mouthful.

“You eat raw eggs, so I think the bar’s pretty low,” you countered jokingly, "but thank you.”

~

After you had eaten and cleaned up from dinner, you decided it was time to get down to business. You led him over to one corner of the broad, open space that served as your ‘office’ of sorts, drawing the thick curtains shut as you passed, just in case any of the neighbors were out smoking on the fire escape tonight. 

“So, you said, planting your hands on the work table dramatically and looking across to him. “Any initial thoughts?”

His eyes grew wide, like a panicked deer. He opened his mouth and then closed it again several times, but no words came out.

“Relax,” you said, smiling reassuringly, eyes sparkling. “It’s not like I expected you to do any homework. It was just a question. I have a few ideas, but we’re supposed to be partners, so I didn’t want to launch into them without giving you a shot first.”

‘Partners.’ He thought he liked the sound of that, but he still found himself wishing it was doing what he was used to, instead of this. It felt wrong, like he was going against everything he’d been taught. But then, he supposed he had been taught by a man so rigid and set in his ways that he would never have even considered that there might be other options. And the last thing he wanted to do was be like Reginald Hargreeves. Besides, it was a one for one deal, and there was still a chance to change your mind.

He smiled at you. “You lead, I’ll follow. For this one.”

“I like the sound of that,” you muttered, smiling back, before settling back into a more serious mode.

“Some oil tycoon’s private collection is being temporarily hosted and displayed at the art museum. It’s a pretty soft target at night, easy to get in and out. Shockingly minimal security in general, and paintings are easy to move,” you offered. 

Diego nodded vaguely, wanting to hear everything you set out before agreeing to anything.

“Or, there’s another place I’ve been staking out for a while. A warehouse. Owned by D.S. Umbrella Manufacturing Co. Nothing to do with actual umbrellas, or manufacturing from what I can tell.”

Diego flinched, but you didn’t notice, having turned around to pull out a file of information you had been gathering. 

“It’s all shipping and receiving. Mostly receiving. Some stuff I think is probably stolen antiques; I think I saw a couple guys opening crates of straight cash at one point, and there’s definitely stuff labeled with shit like ‘caution: explosive’ which usually means weapons or some kind of chemicals and either way is bad news. Those don’t stay in the warehouse long, and I don’t tend to mess with that shit anyway…” you trailed off, noticing Diego’s strange expression. “What? Why are you staring?”

“That…that’s my father’s company.”

“Wait what? Really?” you couldn’t help the shock on your face. 

You knew that Hargreeves was a very rich man but somehow it had never occurred to you that he might actually own anything, other than the massive Academy. And you supposed in theory the seven babies he had bought. You bit the inside of your cheek to distract yourself, cutting off that train of thought before it went to dark places.

“Do you know what specifically he’s got there?” you asked hopefully.

“No. I...sorry I don’t.”

“Nah, that’s alright. And you’re sure it’s his? Not just a similar name or coincidence?”

He shook his head. “No, that’s definitely Dad’s company.”

“All the better then,” you smiled wolfishly, all teeth. “Vengeance and helping people. If you want? I mean, I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with. We could always hit the museum. Or start listing some other options...”

He hesitated a moment. Then he nodded resolutely. “Let’s do it.”

You grinned. Maybe this would turn out even better than you’d hoped. 

~

The two of you spent the next several hours working out the details of your plan, pouring over warehouse blueprints (that he didn’t ask where you’d gotten them from) and road maps, talking entry and exit strategies, rendezvous points, likely potential pitfalls, including the possibility that Hargreeves would send in his brother, Number One to try and stop you if he got wind of the break-in. Diego assured you that he was prepared to fight Luther if it came to it, and you frowned, heart clenching at his cold acquiescence to the idea. 

Exhausted, heads drooping and necks and shoulders aching, you finally decided to call it quits for the night. There was still more to go over, but you had time, and tonight you weren’t going to get anywhere useful with the fog that was settling into your minds. 

“I guess I should go,” he murmured as you both turned toward the door.

“Do you want to?” your face felt hot with a blush and you looked away from him as you asked. 

“What else would I do?” he stepped in front of you, turning your head to look at him again. 

You knew that he knew what you were offering, but he wanted to hear you say it anyway, to make sure the invitation was explicitly there. God, just when you thought he couldn’t get more perfect, he went and did a thing like that. 

You bit your lip, the words feeling heavy in your throat, every nerve suddenly hyper-aware.

“You could stay?” you offered, tilting your head slightly to one side. 

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I mean, I spent a week freeloading off you at your place. The least I can do is offer tonight, especially with how late it’s gotten. It’s dangerous out in the city alone at night you know.” You chuckled, trying to break the tension that crackled between you.

“Y/N…”

“It’s a really nice couch to sleep on,” you continued nervously. “I’ve fallen asleep on it before, pretty often actually when I come home and I’m just too tired. Or if I’m watching a movie or something.”

“Is that what you want?” his voice was soft and he was so close that his breath ghosted over your face.

“Is what?”

“For me to stay, and sleep on your couch?” He made sure you were making complete eye-contact with him, voice serious. “Be honest, and don’t just say something out of feeling like you’re obligated.”

“It’s not an obligation, Diego,” you assured him, hand cupping his face in counterpoint to the one he still had resting on your face. “I want you to stay.”

“On the couch?”

You shook your head. “Not unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

He opened his mouth to ask again if you were sure, to try and get you to say instead of dance around the invitation you were making. You rolled your eyes, kissing him fiercely. 

“Christ Diego,” you groaned against his lips. “I am trying to say I want you, as much of you as you’re willing to let me have.”

That seemed to finally be good enough for him, as he kissed you back with just as much ferocity as you had used. Your lips parted eagerly before he'd even had the chance to act, and your tongues danced together. The hand you had on his cheek slid back to grasp his short-cropped hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made him shiver. Your other gripped tightly to his shoulder to hold yourself steady. He continued to cup your face, his thumb running slowly back and forth over your cheekbone in tender circles, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you close to him. 

Carefully, without breaking contact between you, you led him in a sort of dance, crossing the apartment, circling the edge of the dividing screens that formed your bed“room”, stepping over laundry piles, and finally tumbling backward onto the already rumpled sheets. 

Pulling back to give you both a moment to breathe, Diego shifted, taking off his boots and socks. He bit his lip, staring down at you, your hair splayed around you like a halo, lips reddened from his kisses, skin practically glowing in the dim light (or was that just you?). 

“What?” you asked teasingly. “Have I got something on my face?”

“You’re just…” he found himself at a loss for words, every one he could come up with seeming insufficient.

“Beautiful,” he finally breathed, brushing a finger reverently across your cheek once more, continuing on to trace up your temple before threading back, into your hair. 

“Diego,” you sighed, reaching again to draw him close, needy and wanting. 

He leaned down, tugging lightly on your hair, to expose your neck, placing teasing kisses along the column of your throat. You pressed your lips together to stifle a moan as his teeth grazed over the sensitive skin of your pulse point. You felt him smirk against your skin and had only a few seconds before he redoubled his efforts, biting down harder on the same spot and causing you to cry out. He glided his tongue over the mark he made and his free hand trailed over your stomach, fingers slipping beneath your shirt, shockingly cold against your heated skin. You gasped at the contact, melting into his touch and moving like a marionette for him as he released your hair and lifted your arms above your head to pull the offending garment off, tossing it aside. You thought you heard the clatter of something being knocked over by it, but you couldn’t be bothered to care as his lips reconnected with your own. 

The next kiss was languid and tender, his arms pulling you close, yours curling around his shoulders, fingers dancing mindless patterns over his bicep. You tugged unceremoniously at his own shirt which he was quick to shuck off. A shiver ran through you at the feel of his skin on yours.

His lips continued their journey downward and you arched into him as they found the swell of your breast. You couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of you, hand dropping from where you clung to him to clutch the sheets beside you as he sucked an obvious mark there, just above the line of your bra. 

Your chest heaved as you struggled to regain your breath or senses when he suddenly withdrew. Your face flushed hotly as you caught his eye and he flashed you a wink, swiftly kicking off his pants. He crawled back up the mattress to you and you pulled him into another kiss, your tongues tangling together almost immediately, as if you were made for it. 

As his hand slipped down to your waistband, deftly undoing the button there, you couldn’t help trembling under his touch, gasping when he slipped inside to run teasing fingers over the soft cotton of your panties. 

Suddenly, the reality of what was happening crashed over you like an icy wave and you felt like you were suffocating. It was too much. Everything was too much.

Planting your hands firmly, you pushed his shoulders to put some space between you.

“Diego, wait,” you said softly.

Immediately he froze. Seconds ticked by, somehow agonizingly slowly and impossibly fast all at once, before he moved again, drawing his hand away and shifting his weight off of you completely. He locked eyes with yours, fear and misery staining his face as you both sat up. You reached for him, and he flinched away. You let your hand drop.

“I-I’mmmm,” his breath hitched painfully and he closed his eyes. “I’mm s-sorry.”

“Diego,” you sighed. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Why would you think…”

Your brow creased in confusion and distress that he was so upset.

“I...w-ww-went too far o-or hurt you or…”

You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that slipped out. 

“No you didn’t. You have been nothing but good to me, and you’ve done nothing that I didn’t absolutely want you to do. I’m just...not sure I’m ready to take things any further. Not tonight at least. Let’s just take it slow, okay?”

He nodded, finally opening his eyes, looking down at you again and letting you brush a light caress against his face. There was still some hesitation, like he didn’t quite believe that you weren’t hurt or upset, so you curled your fingers against the corner of his jaw, pulling him to meet you. Your lips moved slowly against his, watching carefully for any sign that he wanted to withdraw.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, if anything,” you said reluctantly.

“What?” his eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What for?”

“Leading you on?” you said, stating what you thought was obvious. 

He pressed his forehead to yours tenderly. “Sure, if you had done that.”

“I did. I mean what else would you call inviting you to stay the night like this and then...not following through…” you bit your lip, trying to look away from his earnest gaze.

“Y/N,” he said seriously. “Setting a boundary, or changing your mind, is not the same thing as leading me on.”

“But--”

He sighed heavily, the sound cutting you short.

“I’d be lying if I said there’s not a little disappointment. But you’re more important to me than sex. And I don’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with, that you don’t want just as much.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, relief and love mingling with embarrassment and guilt, no matter what he said. 

“I’d have even been fine if you really had, or do, ask me to sleep on the couch, Y/N.” He brushed away a stray tear that rolled down toward your chin. “As long as I still have you, in my life.”

“You only have to move to the couch if you want to,” you said, trying to fight down the small smile that threatened to break out on your face. “I’d like it if you stayed. We could maybe keep kissing? Or just, sleep together? Actual sleep…”

He chuckled. “Sleep sounds pretty nice. It is late. And I can’t remember the last time I got a full night.”

“Well in that case, make yourself comfortable,” you laughed, awkwardly extracting an arm to gesture at the rest of the bed. 

Diego returned the laugh and flopped over to the side, stretching out on his back as he settled in for sleep. Briefly he marveled at the softness of the way the mattress sank around him. It was like sleeping on a cloud compared to his lumpy old thing.

His eyes followed you as you moved around the space, shimmying out of your jeans and trading your bra for an overstretched and faded t-shirt, stamped with some university logo. He watched one hand reach behind you to quickly undo the clasp, the two sides practically springing away from each other when you did. You slid the garment off and for a brief moment you were naked, or nearly so - the soft smooth expanse of your skin even from behind making his pulse race with desire again - before you pulled the soft fabric down over your head, the hem trailing across the tops of your thighs, and hid yourself from view again.

You quickly flicked off the lights throughout the little studio apartment.

Any lingering thought, any regret that all he'd gotten was that brief peek, was immediately wiped from his mind as you padded back over to the bed and crawled into it with him. Curling up in almost a ball, you tucked yourself into the hollow of his side, head brushing against his arm as you nestled further down into the bedding, trying to get as comfortable as possible. You breathed in deeply, the scent of him - sharp and spicy and mingled with leather and the cleaning oil he used on his knives, so oft exposed that they had become a natural part of his smell - filling your lungs and spirit with comfort. 

“Goodnight Diego,” you whispered, breath tickling his skin.

He brought his arm down, drawing you closer against him.

“Goodnight.”

You brushed your lips across his cheek in a fleeting kiss that he thought he might have imagined before settling back in your original position. He smiled, the feeling of your warmth lulling him into the best sleep he’d had in ages.

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

@mysterydisposition I think you said that you wanted to be tagged in new chapters?

[deadmancrawling]

falling - c.h.

a/n: hello! i’m back with another calum imagine. i wrote this as a surprise for miss jules, my literal ride or die and my bff forever whether she like it or not so SURPRISE JULES PLEASE DON’T HATE ME NOW THAT YOU CAN READ THE WHOLE THING. i hope you enjoy! who knows when i’ll update next lol

pairing: readerxcal

word count: 2.3k

summary: you and calum finally meet up after two years

rating: PG13

warnings: angst, some smut but not graphic, alludes to mental illness but doesnt specify. also, anything in italics takes place in the past. :))

It’d been two years since you and Calum had broken up. Granted, you started off as a PR relationship; your career had just taken off in the acting industry and Calum’s band needed some press, so who was better suited than you? You were contracted to date for three years. Three years of paid dates, paid travel, and every time you posted a picture together on social media, you guys were paid too. It was a pretty nice life.

You and Calum promised to keep it professional. Unless you were in front of the cameras or out in public where there were like to be cameras, you tried not to act like a couple. You two were forced to live together; so, you got a house in Los Angeles, a dog or two, and you even frequented certain places in the area to make them your ‘date spots’.

Being an actress, you were good at faking the chemistry needed to pull off a PR stunt such as yours. Constantly having to look like you’re in love, holding hands, kissing each other, going on dates, going on tour with him from time to time, the lines between faking the chemistry and actually having chemistry began to blur. Before you knew it, you and Calum were beginning to fall for each other.

It’s not like you planned to fall for him. He was just so good at being a fake boyfriend that you really fell for the act. You fell for the kisses and the sweet nothings he’d whisper in your ear from time to time. You fell for the romantic dates he’d set up, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. You fell for him every time he told you ‘I love you’ and every time he told you that you were his world. You fell harder every time you had sex with him.

You couldn’t believe it when he told you that he wanted to marry you. Both of you were hiking with your friends and you’d stopped for a picnic once you’d gotten to a picnic area. You sat across from him as he fed you chocolate covered strawberries.

“I want to marry you, you know.” Calum had said.

It’d taken you by surprise. Of course, at this point, you had thought you were genuinely a couple and despite talking about your futures together, you had never once brought up the thought of marriage.

“You want to marry me?” You smile. “You mean that?”

“Well yeah. Of course.” Calum smiles back. “Someday, after the band has settled down and we’re ready to slow down. It’s obvious our careers are too important to us to settle down right now. But yeah, one day, I want to make you Mrs. Calum Hood.”

You noticed he was holding a little ring between his fingers, holding out to you. You gasp and look at it as he places it on your left ring finger.

You were practically bursting at the seams. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, and you knock him over and pepper him with kisses over the picnic blanket, not caring if you got food on your clothes.

You wore that promise ring until the day you broke up. The day that seemingly made you turn into the woman you are now.

It was a year to the day after your PR contract ended. You thought you and Calum had been okay and that everything was fine between you two. He’d come home from the studio and told you that you needed to talk. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was serious. You sat on the island in the kitchen as he stood across from you, leaning on the counter.

“I don’t think it’s working out.” Calum says.

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking up at him.

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore. That’s what I mean.”

You sigh and try and hide the tears from Calum. You can’t let him see you cry. “Is it something I did?”

“No, it’s not you. I just don’t think I’m in a place where I can be in a relationship.” Calum tells you.

“You were acting like you were fine this morning.”

“That’s the thing, I was acting. I’ve been acting this entire time. That was our job, (y/n!)” Calum says, harsher than he meant to. “There have never been any true feelings on my end. I’m so sorry I had to tell you like this.”

You’ve had enough. You slide the ring he gave you two years ago on the hike off your finger as you walk over to him. You hand him the ring and as you place it in his hand, he holds your hand there a little longer, like he wants to let your touch linger for just a moment more.

“I hope the next girl you date gets to love you as much as I do.” You tell him, looking into his eyes. “I’ll pack a bag.”

 *

          That was two years ago.

Now, you find yourself back at Harry’s, one of the diners you and Calum used to frequent when you went on dates. It’s hard being back, but you were desperate for some caffeine and could honestly devour about a trillion waffles right now.

You sit at a booth right next to the one you and Calum used to sit. You love that spot, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at it anymore. It hurts too much to remember the times that you and Calum came here together.

After your movie premieres, album release parties, the final show of his bands North American tour, you both always found yourselves here. Granted, it is a 24-hour diner, the service is incredible, and the food is amazing.

It’s a quarter past 3 in the morning. You can’t bring yourself to sleep. So of course, your natural instinct is to come to Harry’s, hoping that you can finally gain a sense of normalcy.

You hear the door chime, sensing that another guest has entered the diner.

“(Y/n)?” You hear a familiar voice say. You haven’t heard them say your name in so long.

You look up. “Calum.” You breathe.

You feel a pang in your chest, and you can’t tell if you’re heart broken or relieved to see him. You haven’t seen him in person since the day you broke up. It’s been two years since you looked into his big brown eyes. Two years since you’ve smelled his scent. Two years since he broke your heart.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.” Calum mumbles.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You say.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” Calum asks, hoping that you’ll say yes.

You nod your head and avert your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You know if you do, you’ll start crying, and you won’t let him see you cry.

Your waitress comes to your table and nearly gasps when she sees the two of you together. You look up at her and she’s looking between your usual spot and this one, and you can tell she’s confused.

“Do you want your usual?” She asks. Both of you nod.

You can’t bring yourself to speak. Even if you could speak, you don’t know what you’d say. How do you tell the person who’s sitting in front of you that you can’t stop thinking about them? That you wish you’d known his feelings from the beginning, so you could’ve saved yourself years’ worth of heartbreak? How can you bring yourself to say anything to the man who broke your heart in the matter of seconds?

Your waitress comes back with two cups of coffee and some creamer. Calum takes his cup and takes a sip straight away, you don’t understand how he can like the taste of black coffee.

“Thank you.” You say at the same time.

For the first time, your eyes meet, and you take a good look at Calum’s face.

Dark circles around his eyes, his face has gotten a bit skinnier since you last saw him, and his eyes are a shade of dark brown you’ve never seen.

“How ar-” You begin.

“I miss you so much, (Y/n).” Calum blurts. “Every day for the last two years, I’ve thought about you. I can’t get you out of my head, (Y/n). You’re like a record that’s on repeat in my brain.”

You’re taken aback by his demeanor. You’ve seen Calum act a lot of different ways before, but never like this. You’ve never seen him so… broken.

“Calum…”

“I know I hurt you. Every day I’m reminded how much of an asshole I am for it. I said things I didn’t mean that day. I couldn’t risk getting hurt but instead I ended up hurting you in the process. And then because I hurt you, I hurt myself. I will never forgive myself for being such a dick to you, (Y/n).” He’s tearing up. Calum hardly showed his emotions in front of people, but you were his one weakness and he knew it.

Every day for the past two years, he’d been wondering how to make it up to you. The countless songs he’d written about you meant that you couldn’t even listen to the radio without thinking about him. Seeing comments from fans on social media asking you about him meant that you had to turn commenting to friends only. Every day for the past two years, you’d been reminded of the constant pain he’d put you through. Every time you thought you were getting better, something would pull you back into it.

“You really hurt me.” You tell him. You’re not sure what else to say. You want to scream, and you want to cry but right now, you can’t feel anything. “I’ve spent every day for the last two years trying to get over you, Calum. I loved you so much.”

“I know.”

“You don’t. You held my heart in your hands from the very day you said we were a team. Since that day, I’d been falling for you. You were my entire world, Calum. I didn’t care about anyone but you. You’d kept my heart in your hands for three years. I trusted you with it. But when you gave it back, it was in a million pieces and I had no idea how to fix it.” You’re crying now. You don’t know when it started but you know you can’t stop.

“You are the best thing that’s happened to me. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am, (Y/n). I realise I was wrong.”

You want nothing more for him to get up from his side of the booth and to come hold you and tell you that everything is going to be alright. To feel him around you one more time.

“Can you hold me?” You ask him. As soon as you do, it’s like there’s a sense of relief on Calum’s face and he immediately comes to you and holds you in his arms.

He peppers kisses all over your head as he holds you tight, and you inhale his scent – he smells like his cologne and a little bit like cigarette smoke – which even though you hate cigarettes, you can’t help but find them intoxicating when he smells like them.

When you finally look up, you and Calum share a glance.

“Shall we get out of here and talk about this elsewhere?” Calum says. “I don’t want to talk about us at Harry’s.”

Calum drives you back to your old house and the two of you enter. You can’t help it, but you kiss him. Every kiss after that is feverish, you need him close to you or you feel like you won’t survive. It’s been too long without his touch and you don’t know if you’ll ever see him again after this, but you need him right now.

Every layer of clothing is gone but you can’t stop kissing him. His face, his neck, his chest. His skin is hot and smooth to the touch, and you can’t remember the last time you wanted him this bad. You can’t remember the last time you wanted him to love you this bad.

Calum is careful as he inserts himself between your legs. You let out a moan which he silences as he kisses you.

Both of you are crying, but you can’t tell if it’s because you miss him, or if this is a bad idea, or because you know this is most likely the last time you’ll have any contact with him.

You wipe your tears and his away once he breaks away from the kiss, and you look into his eyes. Every little touch his not enough so you pull his face down and kiss him again as your fingers entangle themselves into his hair.

Once he finishes inside of you, you find yourself wanting more and more of him. You can’t keep your hands off of each other, but you’re not sure you’d have it any other way. He lays on top of you and kisses you from your forehead down to your legs, leaving harsh hickeys and soft kisses wherever he pleases.

You pull him back up to you and kiss him. It’s intense and passionate and unlike any other kiss you’ve had with him before. This one feels like love.

Calum pulls away. “Stay here with me tonight. Let me make it up to you.”

You search his face before pulling him close and kissing him again. “Okay.”

You rest your head on his chest as your bodies lay tangled up in the sheets. He strokes your hair and begins singing you to sleep like he used to do when you were together. You drift off to sleep, wondering what’s next for you and Calum.

[coyotesongwriting]

Home - Ch. 3

Chapter 3 - Fresh Start

Chapter Summary: Bucky’s gone, and so are you. What happens when you find out some big news?

Word Count: 3222

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this story and I hope you enjoy it. I’ve tried a new writing style for this fic and I can definitely say it’s not my cup of tea but I love the story anyways!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Previous Chapter              Series Masterlist

May You weren’t sure where you were headed when you left the compound, but you knew you had to go as far as you could. For the next two weeks, you wandered wherever the road took you in the Ford Explorer Fury had gifted you. At first, you traveled down to Florida and spent a few days on the coast. The smell of the fish that seemed to permeate the harbor areas left you feeling ill though, and you decided it was time to move. You slowly made your way along the southern coast, stopping in New Orleans for a few days to take in all the sights you’d always wanted to see. You even did a few of the cheesy ghost tours, a part of you hoping that maybe you would receive a sign from Bucky, but knowing you wouldn’t.

As you drove through Texas, you took the old two-lane roads through the middle of nowhere. On one hot summer day, you were driving when you saw a dog on the side of the road. The large German Shepherd mix was tied to a pole on the side of the road, a piece of paper that said ‘free’ taped to it above his lead. The dog had been tied out in the heat with no water for who knows how long, and without a second thought, you loaded him up into your car. Pouring some water into your hands, you gave him a bit before rushing him to the vet in San Antonio.

According to the vet, if you hadn’t come along when you did, someone would have found a dead dog in the summer sun. The vet scanned him for a microchip and was able to find out his name was Rex. His owner’s information was all outdated though, and when they asked what you wanted to do, you didn’t hesitate to say that he was staying with you. You found a hotel room nearby and stayed for the two days Rex spent at the vet, waiting for him to be given a clean bill of health. Every day, you went to visit him for as long as you could. He was always happy to see you and seemed to know you had saved him from a slow and horrible death. You constantly were texting the Avengers pictures of Rex, and Clint immediately claimed him as his godson.

When the day came that you finally got to pick him, you took him to the pet store where you bought him all the supplies he’d need, a nice collar, bed, leash, food bowls, treats, all of it. That night, Rex climbed onto the bed next to you and fell asleep with his head resting on your stomach. For the first time since losing Bucky, you finally slept through the night.

Back on the road, you drove until you reached Sedona, Arizona. There, you decided, was going to be your first stop. The beauty of the surrounding mountains and cliffs surrounded you, and it was completely unlike the forests and meadows you’d called home in upstate New York. The desert was never going to be the place you’d permanently settle down, but it was the perfect place to spend a few months, to heal before attempting to build a permanent life somewhere with Rex.

You found a small apartment on the outskirts of town with a balcony overlooking the cliffs and made it your own. It didn’t take long before you found a job at one of the diners in town working as a cook. You settled into the different lifestyle quickly and made a new routine, one that was reliable and without danger.

In the mornings, you’d take Rex for a jog on the hiking trail behind the apartments. By the time it started to heat up, you were back at the apartment, and Rex was relaxing. You’d go to the apartment’s gym where you’d do some basic exercises, even if you weren’t an Avenger anymore you wanted to be sure you were in shape just in case something happened. After that, you got ready for your shift and went to cook for the dinner rush.

Every day, you checked in with Nat and Sam, and usually one of the others. Everyone wanted to make sure you were doing alright and to be honest, you were. Things were hard of course, and you missed Bucky, you always would, but you were learning to live a new life. One that wasn’t haunted by the ghost of him. One where you didn’t have to worry every day about whether or not your friends would die in front of you.

June A month after getting settled into Sedona, you received a phone call from Steve. It was a late Tuesday night, and you’d just finished your shift at the diner, and you were walking back to your apartment down the quiet streets when you answered.

“[Y/N], we have to make the announcement” Steve’s voice was soft, careful as he spoke.

The warm night air seemed suddenly suffocating. You’d been so wrapped up in your own guilt that you forgot that to the rest of the world, Bucky was still alive somewhere, doing his job as an Avenger. When he first joined the team, he’d gotten mixed reviews from people on the street. Half the people they ran into feared him, blaming him for what he’d done as the winter soldier. The others seemed to understand and were more than willing to welcome him on as one of Earth’s Defenders. Over the years, he had managed to change the doubter’s minds and it wasn’t long before there was even fan merchandise being sold of him. Unlike Tony, he hadn’t relished the spotlight and tried to stand back whenever he could.

While you and Bucky had been more than happy to come out as a couple to the team, you’d decided to keep your relationship private. Since you always wore a photostatic veil when you were in public as one of the avengers, you didn’t want to make things awkward if someone saw him out with you when you weren’t wearing a disguise. He didn’t need the bad publicity if someone saw him kissing you with and without the veil. Besides, it was nice having something for just you and the team, one part of your life that didn’t belong to the world.

The realization struck you, the moment the world found out about his death? He’d be everywhere. You may have left the Avengers in the hope of avoiding his ghost, which still followed you, but the moment it was announced you’d see his face everywhere. The news coverage that would come was sure to run nonstop for days. There’d be a public funeral service.  Bucky’s death would surround you once again, and this time you’d have no choice but to wait it out.

“[Y/N]?” Steve’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, reminding you of his presence.

“Y-yeah. Can you give me a little bit? A few days. Please. I just need to be ready.”

“Saturday, we have to do it then. People are beginning to ask why they haven’t seen him around lately and we can’t keep hiding this. There’s going to be a lot of questions” he paused before continuing, “People have been asking about you too.”

“Okay. That’s fine, that’ll work” your voice was nervous, trying to reassure yourself it would be alright, “What are you going to tell them about me?”

“You can still come back, you know. We miss you. Even Tony misses you.”

“I know. But I’m not coming back. I can’t. I can’t do that. I can’t watch one of you die again. I can’t do it again.”

“I can’t say if you come back you’ll never be in that position again, but we need you. It’s not the same without both of you…”

“No. I know, I miss you guys, I get it. But I can’t - won’t - go through that again”

“I just worry about you. Bucky wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“Bucky’s dead, Steve. We don’t know what he’d want, but he’d want me to be happy and I can’t stay there and pretend everything’s fine, okay?”

“Come home, [Y/N].” Steve’s voice lost the softness, his stubbornness setting in.

You could feel the frustration in you rising as Steve’s attitude changed. You’d been more touchy lately, but who wouldn’t be after losing the person they were meant to spend the rest of their life with?

“I am home.” you slid your key into the lock of your front door and were greeted by Rex’s wagging tail.

“You know what I mean.” he sighed, frustrated.

“No. No, I don’t. Because the complex isn’t my home, not anymore.”

“[Y/N]-”

“Look. I have to go. I just got in and I’m exhausted. You’re making the announcement on Saturday. I get it.”

“Come home. Please.”

You didn’t answer him, merely hanging up the phone. You set your phone on the small entry table by the door and leaned back against the door behind you. Sliding down, you sat on the floor, back against the door as the tears overwhelmed you again. You were getting better, truly. You could usually get through the day without crying by this point, but sometimes things were just too hard.

Looking back all you could see were the mistakes that were made. The things you could have done to save him. And in your darkest times, when it seemed like dawn would never come, you blamed Steve. If he hadn’t made you wait, you could have gotten to him in time. You could have warned him. You could have gotten him out of there, and you wouldn’t be here today. Blaming Steve wasn’t fair, you knew that, but sometimes it was hard to forget that.

Rex nuzzled his way into your face, and your hands closed around him, pulling him close as you broke. While you may have saved him, he’d more than repaid you since you brought him home. On the days you felt alone, he was always by your side. When you didn’t even want to get out of bed, he was there nudging you and making sure you got things handled. When you broke down at night, he was happy to lay with you and offer you a listening ear.

The night passed slowly, seeming to creep by. You slept in fits, but Rex was there every time you woke up. His calm presence lured you back to sleep every time. In your dreams, Bucky was there by your side again and things were good, things were happy and you got to relive some of your favorite memories.

The next morning, you called your boss, asking for Saturday and Sunday off. You’d been working every night since they hired you on. Not having days off meant you could live in the same routine day in and out, no surprises or confusion. Your manager quickly approved the request, and you began to plan.

Saturday came, and in the early morning hours you packed up your car with some supplies and Rex and set off on the five-hour drive to Apache-Sitgreaves National Forest. The forest there would give you the perfect chance to ride out the worst of the news coverage, give the world a chance to get over the shock while you were away.

You shut off your phone, knowing that if you left it on you’d be too distracted by what’s happening to focus on getting on getting away. The drive was nice, and you kept the music soft, not in the mood for anything loud at the time. On your drive to Sedona after finding Rex, you’d learned he was one of those pups who truly loved car trips. His antics as you drove kept your mind off the reason for the trip.

The towering pines and cool mountain weather enveloped you as pulled into the campground. The campground was all but deserted, only one other camper nearby and for that you were grateful. When you planned the trip, you feared that the campground would be busy and you’d be surrounded by couples and families, unable to get the chance to escape. Instead, you were able to focus on the peace and quiet of the forest.

The weekend passed quickly, too quickly for your liking. You and Rex spent the time hiking throughout the forest. Rex was eager to see it all, his exuberance reminding you that he was only a year old. For that, you were grateful. The idea of losing him, your only anchor left in the world, left your breath stuttering. Watching him bound after a squirrel, stopped by the leash, brought a quick burst of laughter from your lips, and with that, you left fears of losing him behind.

During your hike on Sunday, you stumbled upon a herd of wild horses. When you’d first decided to camp here you’d heard they had wild horses here, but you figured you’d never be lucky enough to see one. They were off in the distance across the meadow from you and didn’t seem bothered by your presence. The band stallion watched you for a moment when you first left the trees but quickly turned his attention back to his family, his mares too busy keeping an eye on their roughhousing foals to worry about you. You watched them with Rex for an hour before the herd moved on.

Monday morning seemed to arrive in the blink of an eye, and the dread you’d managed to put out of your mind all weekend crawled back in. Packing up the car, you kept eyeing the phone in the center console, terrified of what you would see when you inevitably turned it back on. For a long moment, you considered just not. Just leaving the phone behind, taking Rex, and running back into the wilderness.

But you couldn’t. Bucky’s death lay heavy on your shoulders, and you couldn’t face yourself if you had run from what happened. No, you had to face the music. And so, you did. The drive back to Sedona was a much more somber trip than the drive away, and you found your mind constantly wandering back to your phone, to what you’d turn it back on to find.

It wasn’t until you were back at your apartment with Rex napping at your feet, that you turned on your phone. It began to flood with notifications, emails from news organizations, and companies chiming in on his death. Texts from the avengers trying to check in on you grew more worried as the days ticked on. Quickly you shot off a text to them, letting them know you were okay, that you’d taken the weekend to go camping and hadn’t had phone reception. Almost immediately, you got responses from Nat and Sam, telling you they’d been worried. Steve’s response was to yell at you for scaring him. You didn’t text him back.

July It wasn’t until you’d been settled in Sedona for two months that you realized something was wrong. At first, you’d chalked missing your period off to stress, who wouldn’t be stressed after losing someone like that? But after four missed periods, you knew it was time to take a test. After your jog that day, you came home with three different kinds of tests, unsure what you hoped the answer would be. Within 15 minutes, the results were in.

Calling around, you were able to get a doctor’s appointment the next day for an official pregnancy test. Nerves ate at you about the idea of being a single mom, and a big part of you contemplated packing up and going back to the Avengers. If you chose to stay away from the Avengers, you’d be denying your kid the chance to really know their family, and your friends turned family the chance to know their niece or nephew.

The next morning your blood was drawn and within a few hours, they had the official results. You were pregnant. It wasn’t just a batch of faulty tests, it was definite. While the idea of going home to the Avengers, of having that support system,  was a huge draw, you feared that going back would put you back in the same mental place you fled to get out of. With a baby on the way, could you really risk that?

You pulled out your phone, dialing Nat and before she could even say hello, you spoke, “Hey. Can you get everyone together?”

“Yeah, is everything okay?” she asked, before letting out a loud whistle. Clint loved to joke she’d trained them like dogs because they’d always come running when she whistled once.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’d just rather only tell this all once”  you let out a nervous breath as you waited.

Within a few seconds, everyone had gathered on Nat’s line and after a quick round of hellos, you took a deep breath before blurting out, “I’m pregnant. About four and a half months along.”

The silence that came across the line was deafening, and you waited anxiously to hear how they’d react. Steve was the first to speak, “Y-you’re pregnant? With Bucky’s kid?” his voice was unsure.

“Yeah. Went to the doctor today and got it confirmed. I’m due in early January” you bit your lip, pulling it between your teeth nervously.

“Congrats, kid” you could hear the smile in Clint’s voice, and you let out a nervous breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, “I guess I shouldn’t call you kid anymore though, huh?”

“Probably not” you chuckled softly.

“What are you going to do, [Y/N]?” Tony chimed in.

“What am I going to do?” you repeated back curiously, “I’m going to have my kid and raise them up the best I can.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Steve’s voice was quiet.

“Yes I’m sure I’m up to raising my own child, Steve.” your voice was hard.

“That’s not what I meant. I just - I meant you could always come back. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know what you meant, Steve. And no, I’m not going to come back because I’m pregnant. If anything, this just tells me I made the right call. I don’t want to raise a kid in that world, always having to wonder if I’m coming home or if they’re going to lose someone they love too.”

“You don’t have to rejoin us, you can just come home, you don’t have to fight.”

“Steve, no. I’m finally doing alright out here. I’ve got Rex, and soon I’ll have my kid, and I’m moving on. I’m not going to just move back to the compound because I’m pregnant. Women do this on their own every year. Look, I just wanted to share my news I wasn’t looking for a fight. I’m going to do what’s right for me and my kid” by the end, your voice was a low growl.

For a long moment, no one spoke. When silence began to echo down the line, you hung up and began to go about your day, hoping to forget their apparent doubt in you and your ability to be a good mom. You didn’t.

Next Chapter -> 

Taglist OPEN:  @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark @redfoxwritesstuff​ @brokenthelovely  @collinsstanharbour​  @samsgoddess​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @winterisakiller​

[deviant3lover]

Personal Headcanons for the Trio

On a rare spark of inspiration, I’ve decided to compile my list of headcanons for the Trio for you all to look at if you’re interested. :) 

I tried my best to make them rooted in canon so that they may be plausible while still allowing me to indulge. ;)

Putting this under Read More because boy, it is long.

Metal Bat/Badd

- From my asks to @atinychai​, Badd likes traditionally masculine things because it makes him feel empowered and keeps most people away. He shows almost all the traits: being into sports, working out, being fierce and intimidating… all except for being attracted to women. (Came as a real shock to him too: his team often found girls cute but Badd couldn’t help but notice that some guys were pretty hot and nobody pointed it out. Doubly so because he loves the thought of being married one day and none of the ladies appealed to him.)

- Very straightforward thinker, but unlike Genos, he isn’t completely tactless or over the top with it. His thought process focuses on what needs to be done, what is needed to do it, and to do it ASAP. Considerations are taken into account, such as what would happen if he doesn’t do it right or in a certain way. This is especially good for him since he’s a busy guy even by S-Class standards, but it does leave him vulnerable to not thinking through long term plans that well.

- The most empathetic and physically affectionate of the three. He keeps his tough look on him in public and in private, but he’s one of the first people to offer to hug it out if you’re breaking down. 

(Obviously where no one can see it: that’s embarrassing on you and would attract too much unwanted attention to him, so he makes sure there’s no one watching. If there is, he’ll clap you on the shoulder, look you in the eye, and offer some advice and encouragement.) 

Young boys and teenagers look up to him, and they usually feel better about crying into his shirt when Badd tells them how hard it was to stop himself from bursting into tears at his first loss in a match, or when he was trying to keep quiet for Zenko’s sake at her recital.

- Continuing on that note, he keeps a nice relationship with some of his sporty fans. Not anything too intensive, but he’ll keep track of the boys who come to him asking him what he was like on his baseball team, what to do if there’s infighting in their group, which ones are worried about their baseball matches and he gives them a proud congrats if they win, or a consolation + inspiration to do better next time if they lost.

- When he’s not blinded by anger, Badd’s surprisingly pretty adept at being a social expert. His experiences of being on the baseball team + hanging out with problem students like him has given Badd a pretty good perspective on both the popular kids and the hated, loner kids, as well as what they’re going through. As a result, he’s usually well received by them. Feels a little embarrassed and uncomfortable around smart kids though, especially when they explain something that sounds a little complicated to him.

- Back in his younger days prior to all the responsibilities piled on top of him, Badd was a pretty good leader for his baseball team. He checked in regularly with his team mates, their equipment, their training regimens, and their upcoming opponents. He helped some of his team mates with confidence issues, and made sure to keep in check with how they’re doing to prevent in-team fighting. All-star baseball team in their region for sure. :3

- In the future, I imagine that Badd might take up some boxing after taking a hint from all the times monsters knocked his bat out of his hands away from him. Lost his weapon? He’ll use his fists until he can get it back again, and he’ll use them well. Turns out loves the sport, but baseball will always have a special place in his heart.

- He empathizes easily with people experiencing stress; he goes through that daily with everything he has to take care of- but he’s more clueless with issues such as mental illness. Badd’s a little insensitive about it, sometimes suggesting things to take care of it which don’t work, but he’s trying his best to understand what someone is going through and knows enough to know that it isn’t something that can’t be solved by blowing off steam or cutting off some bad things in your life. Gets pissed off if someone dismisses it as ‘something that’s all in their head’ or ‘they’re crazy’ and will confront them. Forcing apologies out of the offender isn’t out of the question. Might want to stop him before he gets too pissed off.

- Like you’d expect, he’s a pretty big fan of sports, but in a more casual way. He likes hearing about his favorite athletes, training regimens, and certain meals/diets that helped stars to build up/maintain their strength and skill, but doesn’t obsessively get himself involved in the subject. On a more sentimental note, Badd finds some solace with famous athletes because they had to work hard to get where they needed to be, and on top of that, have to deal with the pressures that come with their popularity; whether they like it or not.

- Despite not having much time to cultivate attention to honing his skill and interest in cooking, he loves Gordon Ramsay. Seeing him rip entitled, spoiled people apart with words alone and gently encouraging + teaching kids has him placed high on Badd’s list of celebrities that he respects.

- Badd is a Closeted Romantic and a Family Man. Always found it touching where in some old action/thriller films, the male married lead thinks about his wife and kids back home and tells himself that he shouldn’t die, powering through the pain/adversity to get back to them. At some point it shifted to him liking some intense drama/action movie focusing on romance where the couple race against time to get to each other before it’s too late. The idea that someone you love and treat as an equal might actually be gone forever really gets him, and if done right, he’ll cry.

- Cannot, for the love of him, focus well on books. He’s literate, but he always wants to get to the most important stuff, often skimming over details that might be important later on. This is also evident in how he writes, explaining something simply and to the point, which makes him pretty good at teaching kids basic, simplified concepts, but not so good at constructing incredibly thought out and nuanced writing. Books and audio books just aren’t immersive to him. Consequently, English is one of his worst subjects in school, and he often has to rely on online notes and essay examples to help him out.

- Extending on that, I imagine him to be a kinaesthetic/visual learner. He was born with amazing dynamic vision after all. (Under ‘Fighting Style: Keen Perception.’)

- Loves American action movies, but they’ll have to be really well made for him to remember a specific one. If you asked him about his favorite action scenes, he’ll describe it, but more often than not, he won’t remember the movie’s name unless you gave him some clues.

- (Inspired by this fanfic.) His mother died in a monster attack just moments after giving birth to Zenko. Badd used to love and respect his father, but her death lead to him spiraling down to alcohol abuse and neglect due to his grief, leading to his broken pedestal status in his son’s eyes. Badd’s still bitter over it when he thinks about it, saying that his ‘old man nursed his bottle like it was his new kid’ instead of being there for him and Zenko. Caught between poor grades in school, a rough home life, and a baby sister he didn’t know how to take care of, Badd had to convince himself that he needed to be twice the man his father is, and ever was, to get through the worst of what life had to throw at him.

- No matter how hard he tries, he still loves his father, and wants to see him endeavor to become better again. But the combined grief of seeing him crumble and give up on himself, the bitterness over his dad failing to be there for him when he needed it the most, and the anger over how seemingly self-absorbed he was in with his booze and watching the static on the TV when Badd was struggling to cope, makes him force the thought of reconciling out of his mind. Badd forces himself to be outwardly angry over what happened to avoid the conflicted feelings he has over the man he used to see as his hero.

- That being said, if you know what his father used to mean to him, you’ll see subtle signs that while Badd can’t forgive, he had never forgotten him. His father was a big sports fan too, and taught him how to properly hit a baseball. If you knew what he taught and looked closely when Badd fights or does some swings, you’ll see that the tips and tricks that he taught his son has never left him.

- Wanted to get a dog because he thought they were cool, but realized he wouldn’t have enough time for it. Begrudgingly got a cat for him and Zenko after she picked one out. He expected it to be the widespread stereotype for cats: cold, mean, and ruins your stuff… and then he saw how lovable and sweet it was and fell in love. That cat is Tama.

- Hates horror films because some of them remind him of the fact that monsters can manifest for the stupidest reasons, anywhere, anytime. It gets him worked up and restless because anything can happen, and the fact that some monsters in the past had tried to target Zenko to lure him out doesn’t make him feel any better.

- When he’s sick/injured, he sleeps. A lot. A very heavy sleeper; expect snores and heavy eyelids. Seriously, this guy is practically stuck in either Stage 4 NREM or REM sleep until severe injuries heal quite a bit, and germs making him sick are killed off.

- Does not take kindly to anyone calling him weak or stupid. Despite getting angry easily, he’s very resilient (emotionally and mentally.) He knows from experience that if he can’t resolve it quickly, it’s best to put it on the backburner until the opportunity arrives where he can, and does his best to blow off steam in the meantime. He’s not that smart academically and he knows it, but it’s still a berserk button you should stay away from because while he’ll never admit it, it hurts him to know that despite forcing himself to attend school so that he can build a future for himself and Zenko outside of hero work, he’s still failing at getting the grades he needs.

- Expanding on that, he’s smart, but it’s more akin to Saitama’s words of wisdom than eloquent, polished reasoning and beliefs; straightforward and inspiring in a simple way that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

- Don’t let him play video games. Especially rage inducing ones like Cuphead. He will crush the controller and wonder why his character isn’t responding mid-game. The keys on the keyboard are smashed in. There are cracks on the area around the buttons. There’s a Wii remote sticking out of a wall after a frustrating defeat and the wrist strap wasn’t securely fastened.

Garou

- He likes athletic wear better than punk styles. They’re easier to put on and move in, whilst the leather from some punk clothes heats up too much/gets too stiff for his liking.

 - Hates being restrained. Sometimes, on a very, very rare occasion, it can be interpreted as him being scared of the idea since he lashes out pretty angrily at it. Garou had been held down and beaten up by bullies twice, pinned against a tree and choked by Genos before escaping his blast by the skin of his teeth, and then was implied to be chained up and tortured/punished for his insolence against the MA in their torture room. He’s strong enough to escape most bindings, but he will be on edge if he feels like he can’t get out of them. If you play your cards right, his attack patterns will lack their usual cunning and be more animalistic.

- He’ll eat almost any kind of food except for sweets. It’s too sugary for him, leads to a crash later on, isn’t sustainable, and it doesn’t offer much nutritional value to him either, so he steers clear of them if he can help it. The odd exception are energy drinks. The sugary taste isn’t something he exactly likes, but Garou loves the immediate rush that kicks in soon after drinking them; the slight burn on his tongue from carbonated drinks such as coca cola is a plus.

- Loves the thrill of the challenge of almost any sort. The excitement comes from giving it his all and not knowing for sure how things will turn out; if he won, that’s another trophy to him. If he lost, he relishes in a milestone he has to beat and loves the idea that there’s still room for improvement. Winning or losing too much tends to be boring for him, and he’ll abandon it if he sees no way to rectify it.

- When he’s sick or injured, he’s a restless sleeper; it’s hard for him to get the proper hours that he needs. He drifts in and out of sleeping and waking, usually sleeping a few hours at best before waking up for 10 minutes and falling back to sleep. Being attacked while vulnerable, in places with little means of defense or shelter is a pretty good plan for monsters/bigshots who want his head and he knows it. One of the places he can sleep more peacefully at is Bang’s Dojo, but he hasn’t been back there for some time now.

- Tsundere. Not necessarily the blushy ‘I-it’s not like I like you, b-baka!!’ sort of way, but he’s a more subdued tsundere. He’ll come off as mean spirited at times, but the most reliable way of knowing he loves and cares about his loved ones is when they’re being threatened; he’ll rough up the threat so they won’t get any funny ideas in the future.

- Is Russian-French, with some (suspected) Norwegian in there. Is generally a European mutt who takes a keen interest in Asian culture, especially those that developed sick martial arts and/or those who have interesting, complex histories; however, Garou isn’t as interested in wars and political intrigue as he is in weird, clever, and hilarious events and hijinks that sound too surreal to be true… like Zhao Yun's army being outnumbered by the enemy, retreating, and him choosing to make their fortress look empty so that his enemies get suspicious, thinking that it was an ambush and withdrawing... before launching an attack on them, killing off his enemy's army by inciting chaos. (E.g. Some of them got trampled, others fell into a river and drowned.) He won.

- Continuing off of that, he generally regards European history with distaste due to how... unkind, some of them are.

- (God, I love @the-goddessfighter​‘s headcanons for Garou’s parents, so honestly? I’m all for this being 100% canon. Murata or ONE, make it happen. In my eyes, this is as good as you possibly can get with Garou’s backstory.)

Check out her tumblr for her OC’s for Garou’s parents! (Although I do headcanon Toru as a more neglectful father who didn’t care much for Garou, if at all. He didn’t sugarcoat his words to him nor try to comfort his son.)

- Prefers black/white/grey/neutral colors for his clothes, if only to avoid people saying that the colors clash and that he looks like a fashion disaster.

- It’s an unconscious move on his part, and while he usually has impeccable control over his power, sometimes his fingers feel like they’re jabbing you when he’s distracted. Especially when he grabs or hugs you. Sometimes, there are some small bruises where they’ve dug in a little forcefully. When he’s feeling affectionate or sentimental and you’re his lover, he traces over your skin, and it’s a contrasting mix between the calloused, rough textures from the fingers, and smooth, fluid movements that slide like water. It’s a distinct Garou feature, and whether you love it or hate it depends on your tastes.

Genos/Demon Cyborg

- Doesn’t care too much about his popularity, but acknowledges the work that his fans put in when it comes to promoting his work and what little information he shares that others will pick up on. E.g. He doesn’t like to be bothered when he’s busy/with that bald guy, but otherwise is OK with signing a few autographs and shaking hands, he avoids certain obnoxious fangirls, he hates it when there’s a group and they crowd him, etc.

- Despite appreciating this info circulating so that some fans are more mindful about how they interact with him, he’s one of the hardest heroes to connect with due to how cold, closed off, busy, and/or socially awkward he may be. Not that many of his fans mind, as it feeds into the mysterious ‘Cyborg Prince’ fantasy that’s popular in his fan base.

- Thinks that Nice Guys/GirlsTM and people who use ‘I’m an Alpha, those betas/omegas can suck it’ are pathetic. At best. He thinks that they’re compensating for something instead of actually trying to improve themselves: for the latter, the added weight of using a disproved scientific theory makes him lose respect for them even more.

- He has a certain amount of fondness for fauna and flora. Prior to meeting Saitama, he’s had to travel long distances in search of the Mad Cyborg, and more often than not, company is fleeting, leaving him alone most of the time. Flowers by the side of the path, blue skies, the sound of chirping birds, or even some berries with rainwater droplets on them are familiar, nice sights that put him at ease. Some of his notebooks outside of taking notes on Saitama have hand drawn illustrations and notes on some plants he’s encountered, as well as their various uses.

- Conversely, barren cities will put him on high alert. Buildings act as great hiding spots, and Genos isn’t a stranger to being ambushed by monsters and criminals alike. (His eyes can be a great asset in these situations; scanning for threats and movements can give him a heads up on how dangerous the area is.)

- His sense of humor is pretty dark, if not outright sadistic at times; especially towards the people he hates. Otherwise, he likes making (mostly. Key word is mostly) harmless jabs and teases at those he loves because he finds it funny when the other person gets riled up/flustered. His tone and expressions don’t change (most of the time) when he makes them though, making it hard for others to know whether or not he’s joking until he clarifies on the matter.

- Hates those who spread misinformation about medicine, or demonizes scientists. He cares about keeping the public safe, and admires/respects science for everything it’s discovered for the sake of humanity: people such as those are a direct attack on both.

- Though on the outside he takes even the most inconsequential things seriously, to the point where he’s gullible and too honest to lie, he keeps his more solemn thoughts to himself and ingrains them at the back of his mind so that he’ll never forget them. His notebooks don’t hint at them even existing. The only way you’ll ever get to hear them is when you directly attack something he holds very dear to him (beliefs, values, aspirations) so that he may fiercely (and furiously) defend them. He berated Saitama for seemingly making a joke at his expense, but he was somewhat more lenient since he knew that Saitama wielded the power he needed. He won’t be nearly as nice if you’re not someone he likes or respects, so it’s a sure-fire way to get onto his blacklist.

- Is German-Japanese. German father, Japanese mother, though a lot of people mistake him for being fully German thanks to his looks. He understands some parts of the language, but isn’t fluent in speaking it. Japanese he’s fully fluent in, and English is getting to that point as well.

- He doesn’t usually use pet names if he gets a lover, but if he’s fallen in love hard, they get sort of ridiculous and a little cheesy. ‘My beloved’ and ‘darling’ are the most modest ones, but you’ll have to stop him from going after extremely specific and loving nicknames because they blur the line between being hilarious and embarrassing.

- Awesome at stake outs, and often keeps a first aid kit handy in his temporary bases (in the case of civilian injury) alongside a repair kit for himself. Genos is incredibly well prepared just from the equipment he has inside them, but unlike other matters (such as learning how to fold clothes efficiently and going taking it far too seriously), Genos shows pretty good judgment in how he sets them up. He doesn’t take more than what’s needed, and prepares some emergency supplies just in case there’s a new development and he needs to stay a bit longer. He’s learned from experience that taking too many things for them makes it harder for him to clear his tracks, and in return, the enemy (or enemies) that he’s been keeping an eye on might catch onto the fact that they’re being watched, making it harder for him to discover new information.

Shared Traits & Other Bits

- The no-brainer: you will get intimidated into fleeing if you mess with them. Things may get physical if you target their family/loved ones. Injuries vary depending on level of apologetic attitude, how much of a threat you pose, how far you’ve pushed things, etc. Best case scenario is that you flee the scene with no injuries, but scared out of your mind.

- Badd and Genos use the same nickname for their lover: ‘Darling.’ Although Badd will say it as ‘Darlin’’ instead. Other than that, their nicknames are fairly different, with Badd going for things such as ‘sweet cheeks,’ ‘babe,’ and ‘sweetheart.’

- Both Genos and Garou have the tendency to mess with people for their own amusement. Garou comes in the form of taunting and goading, whilst Genos likes to make underhanded comments and jokes that will infuriate you.

- Genos and Garou like books. Genos however, is more introverted and will share his knowledge more thoroughly when prompted by someone who needs it. Garou being Garou, you wouldn’t even know he was into reading until he offhandedly mentions a bit of knowledge from a book he read. Odds are you won’t have time to ask him if he knows how to do x because he would have already gotten up to do it before you can open your mouth. This occurrence is far more common in emergencies.

- Genos doesn’t take any visible joy in fighting. He sees monsters as a threat to society that must be eliminated quickly and effectively. Badd used to enjoy throwing himself into battles and coming out of them victorious, but thanks to time and HA’s obligations, he sees monsters as destructive assholes getting in his way and creating more work for him when he’d rather come home to catch up on other things on the forefront of his mind. Garou loves fighting, the challenge- but it has diminished by a notable amount after his webcomic arc as he’s reflecting on what he needs and wants to do now. Despite this, he usually keeps his eye out for any interesting challenges, if only to distract himself.

- Slightly digressing from the Trio: Zenko shares the burden of taking on responsibilities with Badd, though he doesn’t know they exist. She’s aware of the fact that her brother isn’t living a normal teenage life and is bothered by the fact that he can’t act like his own age most of the time, making her want to be headstrong, capable, and independent soon so he doesn’t have to worry about her. At the same time, she knows that there aren’t many heroes his age that he can get along with, so she tries to fill in that hole by spending time with him while finding heroes she likes, and hopefully her brother will like- the reason being is that hopefully, Badd will make friends with them, and she can meet her idol often! It’s part of the reason why she was so insistent in having him obtain AM’s signature.

- Genos can sing, but sometimes struggles with singing with enough emotion in his lyrics. Garou can sing pretty well, (and sings almost every Disney villain song like a champ) but he’d be resistant to others goading him into it. He’s pretty uncomfortable at the notion that he’d have to sing in front of people. Badd can… sing, but he’s best at singing the lullabies he sung to a baby Zenko- songs that get him into it can have him be really, really into it; to the point where it’s almost embarrassing to watch. He’s pretty good at rap/singing more sentimental pieces such as this:

[trueromantic1]

Okay everyone, I’ve got almost 100 prompts for Madney in my inbox now. I’m still taking new prompts, but I’m going to start listing them all in a post so that you all can see what prompts I already have, in case you don’t want me to do one I already have. I don’t mind doubles, I’ll just treat doubles as a new prompt for each person that sends it, but I know not everyone wants to send a prompt that’s already been sent. So here’s the full list of what’s in my inbox. As I fill them I’ll cross them out.

Madney + “For the love of fuck.” from maddiehans

'I'm going to love you. I'm going to love you in your weakest moments to your strongest ones. I'm going to love you when you're happy and I'm going to still love you the most when you're sad. Don't you understand? I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.“ from jessicatk53

“I’m all good.” “You’re lying on the floor in a pool of blood.” “Not my blood.” from minti-here

“Any questions?” “Constantly.” from minti-here

“Stop distracting me.” “Just one kiss? Then I’ll stop?” “We both know that’s a lie.” from minti-here

“Fuck you.” “Go ahead then.” from minti-here

“How quickly can you cum?” from maddieandchimney

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?” from maddieandchimney

“I’m not jealous! its just…you’re mine!” from maddieandchimney

“Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh... no... I was just...” “Want some help?” from maddieandchimney

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?” from maddieandchimney

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.” from maddieandchimney

“Put that thing away!” from maddieandchimney

“Ah, you’re playing hard-to-get. thats cute.” (I changed it for my own satisfaction from maddieandchimney

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.” from maddieandchimney

“We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still horny?!” from maddieandchimney

“Ill just have to cum inside you then.” from maddieandchimney

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.” from jessicatk53

“I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification just from staring at him if i try hard enough.” from maddieandchimney

“If you cant sleep…then how about we have sex?” from jessicatk53

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.” from maddieandchimney

“Take off your clothes.” from jessicatk53

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.” from maddieandchimney

“If i have to pull over, you wont be able to walk for the next week.” from maddieandchimney

“Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.” from jessicatk53

“We’re in public, you know.” from jessicatk53

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?” from jessicatk53

“Don’t make me take you home and punish you.” from jessicatk53

“Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” from maddieandchimney

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” from maddieandchimney

“You’re n-not ,um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” from maddieandchimney

“Don’t walk away from me” from jessicatk53

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” from maddieandchimney

“If you cant sleep…then how about we have sex?” from maddieandchimney

“Watch me.” (I mean could you imagine Chim’s face if a very naked Maddie said that to him???) from maddieandchimney

“Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt” from jessicatk53

“We’re quite the team” from jessicatk53

“First one to make a noise loses.” from maddieandchimney

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I was in love” from jessicatk53

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” from maddieandchimney

“Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.” from  minti-here

“Try to stay quiet, understand?” from maddieandchimney

“You want me to give you your book/phone/item back? Make me. from  maddieandchimney

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?” from  minti-here

“I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” from  maddieandchimney

“I thought you were the one person who wouldn’t hurt me” from  minti-here

“I didn’t think heaven existed. I was wrong” from minti-here

“Quiet, I need quiet to access my brain’s full potential” “Are you trying to make pancakes again?” from minti-here

“I don’t usually give into peer pressure, but I’ll give into you” from  minti-here

“Did you just fall down the stairs?” “No, I gracefully performed a mating act I saw online. Did it work? It was called damsel in distress” from minti-here

A whumpee who has suffered so many wounds that when old chronic pain flares up and Caretaker asks what hurts, they aren’t even sure which injury to blame from maddieandchimney

Madney + “I want to hike up your skirt and take you right here.” from anonymous

“This isn’t what it looks like.” from  jessicatk53

“You’re a genius with facts, but you’re really stupid with people.” from  jessicatk53

“I know what I want, when I want it. So get over here.” from  jessicatk53

“I made the mistake of thinking ‘This can’t get weirder.’ Sorry.” from  jessicatk53

“I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.” from  jessicatk53

“I didn’t say “sex party” as in orgy.  I said “hex party” as in witches.” from  jessicatk53

“I lost the baby.” - for when Maddie decides she can’t raise a baby with Doug and so, she runs from  maddieandchimney

65. “Look at me—just breathe, okay?” - for when Chim makes a completely innocent comment about the dishes and Maddie is taken right back to Doug. from  maddieandchimney

To their surprise Whumpee leans into their touch, eyes closed, mumbling, “No, it feels good…” That’s the first sign Caretaker notices that they have a fever. - my phone won’t let me copy the whole thing but please??? from  maddieandchimney

“I can’t do this anymore.” from  jessicatk53

“Does it ever occur to you that I am done talking? That I am done with reflecting upon my words and action? Can’t you just take a fucking hint that I’m done with you? I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.” from  jessicatk53

“How am I supposed to ‘love you’ when I never had feelings to being with.” from jessicatk53

“You’re damaged goods and I can’t find the patience to take on you as a project.” from maddieandchimney

“Why can’t we just talk about it —” from  maddieandchimney

“You’re a god damn mistake, that’s what you are.” from maddieandchimney

“Why can’t you just look at me for one god damn second!” from  maddieandchimney

“Why can’t you just learn to let the fuck go.” from  maddieandchimney

“This, us, was a fucking mistake and I should have known the second things went further than planned.” from jessicatk53

“Why are you — saying all these things??? Where did they come from???” have at it ya fuckin’ demon!! from cardi-sea

“Did it over occur to you that I never wanted this to begin with?” from  maddieandchimney

“So, how should we break the news that they’re going to have a new baby brother or sister?” Madney pls🥺 from anonymous

“I think we should have another.” from  maddieandchimney

“Our kid is totally the one who wanted to build a pillow fort, not me.” from  maddieandchimney

“It’s 2 am but you’re craving cake and we’re both up anyway so let’s bake in our underwear.” from  maddieandchimney

“I know we had a big fight but we still need to decorate the house for the holidays.” from  maddieandchimney

“I beat you at Mario Kart and now you’re banishing me to the couch for the night?” from  maddieandchimney

YES!!! "I planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing.” from  maddieandchimney

“I just came home to you crying while watching a movie, please tell me what’s going on.” from  maddieandchimney

“Sometimes I just can’t control myself when around you.” from  maddieandchimney

Just imagine moody sick Maddie 😂 “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.” from  maddieandchimney

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.” from  maddieandchimney

“You can’t die. Please don’t die.” from  maddieandchimney

“i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.” from  maddieandchimney

“stop trying to act like you’re not bleeding out in front of me!! this is serious!” from  maddieandchimney

“i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.” from maddieandchimney

“your feelings matter too! i can’t help you if i don’t even know what’s making you upset!” from maddieandchimney

“listen, asshole. i’m gonna carry you home whether you like it or not. you’re not in any condition to get there yourself.” omg i love this one for buck and maddie from cardi-sea

❝I’m not taking that medicine, it’s disgusting.❞ from maddieandchimney

“your feelings matter too! i can’t help you if i don’t even know what’s making you upset!” from maddieandchimney

[harryimaginestuff]

Ruin the Friendship: Part 2

hi lovlies! sorry for such a long wait, I hope you enjoy part 2!

Word count: 3k

Genre: angst 

    It had been 7 months since you had last seen and heard from Harry, the last time being when you walked away from his house and out of his life. In the beginning there had been a hole shaped like Harry that had sat heavily in your heart that had affected every one of your moves. You had never felt that way until Harry and you repeatedly promised yourself that you would never allow yourself to feel those emotions ever again.

     However, your pessimism ended soon after as the hole in your heart slowly began to fill of a love for something else.

      “Sam! I swear to god put that shit back how many times have I told you I can’t eat that!” You whine at him as he picks up a plate of sushi. “Why can’t I have it then?”     

“Because you love me so much and wouldn’t want to tempt me?” you bashfully ask, giving him your sweetest smile as you walk closer to him to envelop him into a hug.      

Whilst Sam is rarely stopped in public, the both of you wanted to ensure your privacy as you stepped out for your weekly shopping trip. Ever since Harry had been out of your life you had somehow grew even closer to the man beside you, something you had originally believed was impossible seeing as you were practically joined at the hip ever since you had met him when you were six.      He had been there for you every step of the way. He was by your side once you had returned from Harry’s the same morning as your eventful ‘break-up’. He was by your side letting you cry onto his shoulder not saying a word because he knew that silence is how you deal best with sadness. He was even by your side the day you found out you were pregnant.

      “Uh oh,” you hear Sam whisper causing to look over at him, aiming to see what had caught his attention. Annoyance fills you as your eyes follow his gaze to the wall of trashy magazines all with the common theme of himself and a ‘mystery woman’.

      ‘Sam Claflin spotted with mystery woman.’

     ‘Claflin spotted entering London home with mysterious girl and a telling package.’

    ‘Exclusive! Sam Claflin photographed entering home carrying baby crib packaging with mystery woman.’

    The same image is used throughout all magazines, a blurry picture with your back the camera and whilst you’re not visible enough to be recognised, Sam’s face is clear as day which would in turn make it hard to disregard the pregnancy rumours that are bound to come.

      “Hey look at me.” Sam reassures, gently grabbing your shoulders as to divert you away from the issue that has captured your attention. “It’s all going to be fine, and if someone stops us, we just say nothing okay?”

     Trashy magazines were usually untrue, always coming up with some fabricated lie from a ‘reliable source’, however in this circumstance there was no need for a reliable source seeing as pictured in every one of the magazines was a picture of her and Sam and whilst she wasn’t recognisable, it only meant that a shit storm was on the way, it was just a matter of when.

      “I know Sam, we both knew it was going to happen eventually.” You signed, stroking the swell of your stomach, “just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

     “Let’s finish buying you your ice cream and get out of here.”

     “Love you Sam,” you smiled cuddling into his side.

      “Love me enough to let me buy some Sushi?”“No.”

// 

    That night you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder to the moment you found out about the human growing inside you. 

     After almost a week of incessant puking and convincing yourself that it was just a general illness, as after all there had been some kind of virus that had been making its rounds around work over the past few weeks. And if you were being honest you would have ignored and waited out this apparent sickness if it weren’t for Sam’s friendly concern.

      It was getting to the point where his consistent badgering and bothering had gotten you to reach your boiling point, leading to him taking you to the doctors for his benefit rather than yours.

      It felt like only a week ago when you were sitting inside the doctor’s office with Sam waiting for you outside patiently.

      It felt like only a week ago when the doctor had put you at ease and then into a frenzy in so little time.

      It felt like only a week ago when you were left in shock after discovering that you were growing a real human inside of you and that little human happened to share the same blood as the man who singlehandedly held your heart and broke it.

      You couldn’t even begin to explain the way your stomach dropped and the way your heart thumped so loudly within your chest. The words ‘pregnant’ has echoed across the room filling you with despair and warmth simultaneously. Tears had  filled your eyes, but it wasn’t sorrow for yourself and the fact that you had accidentally fallen pregnant with a man who couldn’t lob you, instead it was grief for the small part of you growing from within who may never learn who their  father is.

//

     After going for your weekly shopping trip, the both of you were exhausted, you more so because of the full-grown baby chilling in your stomach, and Sam because you had made him carry every single one of the bags. All 10 of them.      And now being the bestest friend that he is, he was currently sitting on a makeshift chair by your feet and massaging out the full ache that had developed. Who knew motherhood would be nothing but ache, pains, puke and love?

      “I love you.” You moaned out, expressing your gratitude to the man who’s always been stood by your side.

      “I’m only doing this because you let me eat sushi, albeit I had to eat it on my own in the toilet, but still, the gesture counts.”

      You and Sam has been friends since childhood, before fame there had always been you. The whole reason he took on his role is Love, Rosie was thanks to you seeing as he saw so much of the both of you in the characters, sans the romance of course.

      This is why as soon as you revealed your surprise pregnancy the first thing Sam said was that he would be whatever you needed, whether that was the baby’s father figure or just the cool uncle, either way you knew he’d be there for you through thick and thin. And he was. He attended every appointment, he was there for every craving, he was there for the first kick. Quite frankly here was no way that you would have been able to do it so smoothly without him.      “Harry just texted me.” Sam said cussing your stomach to drop with unease. The last time you spoke to him was when you ended it and the last time Sam spoke to him as far as you knew was when he went to pick up some of your belongings from Harry’s place. “He must’ve seen the articles. But he doesn’t know it was you.”

     You can feel the dread slowly travel through every vein in your body as the colour drops from your face. This is it. The moment you knew was coming       “What did u want me to say.”

      “um… just… I don’t know… just confirm a pregnancy but say nothing about me.”

     Sam looked at you, eye brows slightly raised. “Are you sure? If we lie we can’t turn back and if he finds out we’re in shit.”

     “Yes, yes I’m sure just send it.”

     “Okay whatever you want.”

     The inevitable fact that Harry could and would soon find out about his daughter had been pushed to the back of your mind as you concerned yourself with more important and urgent matters as you prepared for the arrival of your baby. However, deep down you knew that the real reason why you refused to acknowledge the truth was because you were terrified of what could happen if he ever did find out. More now than ever as you had made Sam outright lie to him, putting you in a pretty bad spot if he was to ever find out. You knew that the confrontation was unavoidable and either Harry would find out on his own accords or you would reveal it to him yourself. Either way that day was fast approaching, and you were one step closer seeing as Harry now believed that there was a pregnant woman in Sam’s life.

     You just never thought that that day would be today.

      Both you and Sam were sat inside the nursery, which previously was a game room that Sam had sacrificed as soon as you moved in with him. The two of you had been working on building a crib and painting the room since earlier that day. Whilst in every other sense the two of you made a great team however the both of you had come to the realisation that decorating was your weakest point. Rather than working together you were in one corner painting the wall whilst Sam was in the other building the crib. You currently weren’t speaking seeing as not even 20 minutes ago you had fallen into a tedious argument on what the colour of the wall should be, with you arguing for a universal yellow and Sam arguing for a lilac hue.

      You were pulled out of your mindless humming by the sound of the doorbell ringing causing your movements to halt at the sudden intrusion.

      “Mind getting it for me.” Sam asked, fiddling with the wooden boards laid out in front of him.

      You simply nodded and strolled out of the room. Perhaps the person waiting behind the door was the delivery man, after all Sam had been raving on about some kitchen gadget he bought earlier on in the week, so perhaps it was that.      Peeking through the hole you felt your body turn ice cold as behind the door stood a very familiar curly headed man.

    “Shit shit shit.” You mumbled to yourself as you roughly distanced yourself, almost as if the door was fire, with the flames licking at you, melting the glue that pieced together your heart.

      “Sam? It’s Harry.” The familiar voice ignited your body as you bolted up the stairs and back to the nursery.

     “Harry-he’s-Harry…” Despite the broken phrases, Sam was still able to understand you as he gently pushed you into a chair and handing you his glass of water as he sweetly whispered in your ear.

      You could hear the muffled voices of the distant men below you as you once again hid from your issues. From what you could hear, Harry’s random appearance was down to him giving a small gift for a child he beloved to be Sam’s. It was weird hearing his voice now so many months after you separated, and it was even weirder to think that that was the voice you listened to almost everyday. But now wasn’t the most recent time that you had heard his voice. The last time you heard it was soon after you found out you were pregnant and you had been calling and calling him only to be met with his voicemail over and over again, until one day rather than hearing him, it was an automated message informing you on how the number was no longer available. For you that had drawn the line since the lack of need for him to keep you updated on his contact details was a tell-tale sign that you no longer held any importance anymore. And yet there you were on the other line, completely in love with him and pregnant with his baby.

     “Y/N?” And there it was again, that voice. That voice that could make you smile, scream and cry all at once. But it wasn’t the that that made you choke up this time it was the fact that he was standing right in front of you staring at your rounded stomach. You watched as his mouth taped open and closed like a fish and if it wasn’t for such a tense moment you would have burst out laughing, but this wasn’t the time.

       “It’s you.” He hesitantly steps forward his hand subconsciously lifting towards you. “You were the girl who was pregnant.”

      He takes one more step towards you before settling down at your feet his hands resting on your legs.

      “You were the girl Sam was talking about.” You’re yet to open you mouth and speak, but the fear consumes you as you watch the clogs turn in his mind as he tries to piece together the information he’s just been given. “You’re pregnant with Sam’s baby.”

     “What? No.” Apparently he was piecing together the wrong information. Sam chooses this moment to walk in, mumbling a quiet ‘shit’ at the image in front of him.

      “I mean Y/N there’s no point denying it now I can see that you’re pregnant and Sam told me he had a pregnant girlfriend.”

     “I’m almost 8 months Harry.”

     “Okay?” He asks confusion still written across his face until suddenly his face goes slack and you think that this is it, he knows now.

     “You were sleeping with me and Sam?”

      “Harry for Christ sake.” He stands up creating a distance between you as he moves him self to the corner.

      “You told me that you loved me.” He pauses as his eyebrows furrowed in anger. “But you were with Sam behind my back. That doesn’t look like fucking love to me.”

     You open your mouth to speak but he holds his hand up to silence you.      “And you.” He points at Sam. “You were supposed to be my fucking friend. No wonder you stopped speaking to me! You were sleeping with my girl. You were both laughing behind my back. I knew you were like everyone else, just using me. We were supposed to be exclusive.”

     “Mate calm down, don’t say stuff you’ll regret just let her explain.” Sam said lightly gripping his arm.

      “M’not your fucking mate.”

     “You’re such a dick Harry! And still as oblivious as ever, first when I was trying to tell you I loved you and now when I’m trying to tell you the baby’s yours.”

     Harry stills the anger leaving his face, “why didn’t you tell me?” He whispers.      You laugh dryly, “I did so many times. As soon as I found out before telling anyone I called you. Over and over again but you never answered but I never gave up until that bitch automated voice me that your number wasn’t available, you changed it. Do you know how that felt?”

     “Do you know how it felt to reach out to someone you had known and cared for and loved for two years to act like you never existed, to be left on the ground like dirt. You say now that I must’ve been using you but I’ve never felt more used at that point, I was left thinking that I was never anything more than a good fuck and once I was no longer willing to cooperate you pushed me aside to find a new plaything. I felt like complete and utter shit. I was so in love with this man, pregnant with his child and absolutely scared shitless. I didn’t know what to do and you weren’t there!” You cry out. “You were never there. Not when I needed you the most.”

     “I can’t believe I was dumb enough to believe that you cared at all for me.” You broke down in tears, your body folding into itself as you curled up into a ball, a subconscious effort to protect your already split heart. 

     “Y/N… that’s not true.” Harry finally said after Sam quietly left the room, allowing you to have the conversation that was needed.

      “There’s no proof from your actions that tells me otherwise.”

     “I left you because I thought that that was what was best for you.”

     “Harry don’t feed me the shit that you feed all the other girls when you no longer want them anymore, that you end whatever you have with them for their own safety.”

     “But it wasn’t just for your safety this time. I did it for my sanity as well as yours. Do you know how many of my past relationships has ended as a result of the hate they receive? Basically, all of them. I realised too late that I loved you too, after spending a week without you in my arms I realised that I didn’t want a day like that ever again. But then I remembered all my past relationships and I couldn’t let you go through all the shit they had to. Not you because I had never loved anyone more than I love you.”

     “You can’t say that to me?” you cried out. “You can’t play with my feelings like that. You never wanted me before this pregnancy, why would I ever believe that you were genuine about wanting me now. You’re just in love with the idea of a family. But you’re not in love with me.” 

    “I love you; I swear I do, and I’ll keep telling you that until you get sick of it. I didn’t handle the situation well back then, but I swear I’ve changed as much as a man can change in eight months. We don’t have to jump into everything now but please let me be in your life. The both of yours.” He said reaching out to stroke your swollen stomach.

     “I’m only agreeing for now for the sake of our child, if we’re in contact we do it on my terms, I’m staying here-”

“-but”

     “I’m staying here with Sam, you can come to any other appointments I have and of course the birth, whenever that is. But that’s it for now.”

     “We just see where things go?”

     “Yeah, we’ll just see where things go.”

     You watched in awe as Harry sang softly into your stomach, maybe you’ll finally have your happy ending.

// 

tags

@harryisalittleshit @killerqueenishere

[hermannsthumb]

If your'e still taking prompts the one from the halloween list: "we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me??" seems like such a good newmann one. love your writing :)

from list of halloween prompts here

this one is literally so fucking good for them. god. GOD. theres like the tiniest bit alluded to not sfw in the beginning (after the making out) but after that its fair game

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

“Ngh,” Newt says. “Keep doing that.”

“Hmm?” Hermann says. He drags his mouth up from Newt’s collarbone, eyes dark, pupils wide, mouth curled into a lazy smile. Almost coquettish.

Newt blinks down at him blearily. And with a little poorly-concealed irritation. “I said keep doing that,” he says. “Not stop doing that.” He gives Hermann’s head a nudge. A tiny gentle one. He’s eager, he can’t help it; Hermann always gets him all eager and hot and bothered. He doesn’t think he’ll mind. “C’mon, baby, c’mon--”

It’s a mistake. Hermann minds: his demeanor changes in an instant, like Newt flipped a light switch that was clearly labeled with a do not touch! in masking tape and Sharpie. (Shit, Newt thinks.) “Don’t,” Hermann snaps, and swats at Newt. “You know I can’t stand it when you pull--”

“I’m not pulling your hair!” Newt says. He drops his hand away and holds it high above his own head just to make his point. “I swear. I was just trying--”

Hermann rolls off of him and onto his back, huffing, arms folding across his bare chest. Lacking any better ideas, Newt follows him. “Aw, Hermann,” he says, “don’t be like that.” He presses kisses to Hermann’s jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to--”

“Unhand me at once,” Hermann mumbles. Newt kisses his cheeks, his mouth. Hermann kisses back. His hand slides up to cup the back of Newt’s neck. “Wretched little man,” he continues to mumble. “Ah.”

“There we go, Hermann,” Newt says, grinning against his lips, and adds, sarcastically (because it always makes Hermann laugh), with a little nip of teeth, “There’s my Hermy-wermy.”

Hermann makes a face. “You know I can’t stand that either.”

“Really?” Newt murmurs. He tiptoes his hand down Hermann’s chest, down to the waistband of his ugly slacks, the open zipper; his grin spreads wider. “Because I think,” he starts to tug Hermann’s slacks down, “your hermy-wermy would say otherw--”

There’s a knock at the door.

Mood ruined, and all of Newt’s hard work getting Hermann game to go again ruined, too, Newt slides his hand back to safe territory and lets out a colorful stream of profanity. Hermann wrinkles his nose beneath him. Whatever, he curses just as much as Newt. “Fuck,” Newt finishes. “Who the hell is that?”

Hermann pushes him off and sits up with a grunt. “We’ve probably got a damned laboratory meeting we forgot about,” he says, “because someone couldn’t keep it in his Hot Topic skinny jeans long enough to wait until we clocked out for the night.”

“They’re not from Hot Topic,” Newt says. He pauses. “How do you even know what Hot Topic is, anyway?”

“I’ve seen the label on them,” Hermann says. There’s another knock. Hermann sighs, and makes to slip out of bed. “If you won’t get it, Newton, I will.”

Newt drags him back down quickly. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Get back here! You are not answering my door looking like--” He plucks at the elastic of Hermann’s tighty-whiteys peeking out, pokes at the hickey purpling on his neck. “--this. Or at all, actually, how suspicious would that look? This is my bedroom.”

“We’re colleagues,” Hermann says with a sniff. “It’s perfectly natural for us to--er--consort. Outside of work. For all they know we’re talking about work.”

“In our underwear?” Newt says, and points out, “It’s not really natural for colleagues to screw each other as much as we do.”

Hermann flushes. “No one would be able to tell--”

To be completely honest, Newt really, really doesn’t care whether or not people know he and Hermann are--uh--rivals with benefits, but Hermann is always so weird about privacy, and Newt supposes it’s a little bit of a cliche to sleep with a co-worker, so he takes one for the team. “Jesus, Hermann, I’ll get the door,” he says. He swings his legs to the floor and does his jeans back up, then grabs the first shirt he can find and pulls that on too. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Newt learns two things in the course of squeezing his head out the door and talking to a mildly intoxicated LOCCENT worker: one, that the guy was sent by Tendo to remind them about the super awesome spectacular Halloween party going on down the hallway right his second, and two, that Newt and Hermann were invited to this Halloween party, apparently agreed enthusiastically to coming to it a week ago, and if Newt doesn’t find Hermann and show up with him in ten minutes, Tendo is totally never speaking to them or inviting them to another awesome party ever again. Newt learns a third thing once he and Hermann toss on the rest of their clothing, smooth out their hair a little, and hurry down the hallway to where the party is being held within those allotted ten minutes: he’s accidentally put on Hermann’s shirt. A fourth: Hermann’s accidentally put on his.

Before Hermann can waltz in through the door and raise questions (because his buttons are straining obviously under his low-cut button-up sweatervest, kaiju blood stains a spot just under the lapel, and Newt’s swimming in Hermann’s sleeves and has got a fucking pocket protector in), Newt drags him off to the side and shoves him against a deserted wall to explain their predicament.

“We have to change,” Hermann declares immediately. “We can’t be seen--”

“No, look,” Newt says. He’s quickly formulating a plan. They won’t be able to swap pants, obviously, but-- “Take off your blazer and sweater.”

Hermann frowns. He tucks his blazer tighter around himself. “No,” he says. 

“Take them off, jackass!” Newt orders, ripping his own tie off from around his head and starting to kick off his boots. “And your shoes. Look, it’s a Halloween party, right? People dress up for Halloween parties. Let’s just say we’re going as each other, everyone will get a huge kick out of it, no one finds out we’re, you know.” He adjusts his left index finger and thumb into a small circle, and pokes his right index finger through it a few times with bonus sound effects. “Rendezvousing. Platonically. Your public image is saved.” 

“No,” Hermann repeats, though he flushes. “I am not wearing your disgusting boots.”

Patience running very, very thin, Newt corners him closer against the wall. Not very successfully: Hermann does, after all, have several inches on him. Newt has to glare up at him. “So help me God, Hermann,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you don’t give me your blazer right now, you can find some other horny bozo to--”

“Fine!” Hermann says quickly. He yanks the skinny tie from Newt’s hands. “If you spill anything on--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

After a hurried exchange of accessories which leaves Newt looking like an exceptionally short and baggy Hermann, and Hermann like Newt if he wore contacts and enjoyed attacking his hair with scissors, they waltz into the party together. Newt’s actually pretty pleased with how their costumes turned out, all things considered--Hermann even consented to having Newt draw shitty approximations of his tattoos on Hermann’s arms with a marker they found in Hermann’s pocket.

Everyone at the party gets a total kick out of it, too, which is the best part--especially when Newt decides to toss in some quality Hermann Impressions. 

“Newton,” he grumbles, poshly, hands on his hips, "quiet down right this instant.” That gets a few laughs. “You know I can’t stand it when you have fun.”

More laughs; Hermann, nursing a drink, looks only the vaguest bit amused. “Very funny,” he says. “My turn, now.” He shrinks in on himself in a way that makes him look just a bit shorter, and clears his throat: the voice that comes out next is so high-pitched, so scratchy, so fast, so--uncomfortably Newt that Newt nearly drops his own drink in shock. Especially once Hermann tosses in equally uncomfortably Newt hand gestures. “I’m going to do something ill-advised and dangerous to prove I’m right and give Hermann a stroke,” he declares. “Don’t you just love kaiju? They’re so cool.”

“I’ve never said I loved kaiju,” Newt says, but he’s grinning. 

“They’re so cool,” Hermann repeats. “Do you like my tattoos? You know I have a Doctor Who one on my--?”

“Dude!” Newt hisses. He was eighteen, okay? Anyway, that’s not the kind of private, personal information that Hermann should be sharing if he wants to even remotely pretend they don’t get up to hijinks in the lab after hours. 

“Dude!” Hermann echoes, perfectly.

The little crowd of their co-workers laugh. (Louder laughs than any of Newt’s impressions got.) Newt laughs, too, despite his embarrassment. And despite something beyond embarrassment, something he can’t quite put his finger on--it’s making his heart race, his palms sweat. Hermann sure must, well, know him to get him down like that, obvious comical exaggeration aside. (Or maybe it’s just because Newt talks a lot.)

“Ha, ha,” Newt says. “Okay, you win.”

“Thanks, dude,” Hermann squeaks in his Newt-voice. He winks. 

Newt corners him at the snack table crammed into the far back of the room later, while Hermann is--innocently--scooping some bat-shaped pretzels onto a plate with a large plastic spoon. Newt makes his presence known by stealing a handful and swallowing down half of them. “Gotta say, dude,” he teases, “I’m a good look on you.”

“Of course you’d think that, you narcissist,” Hermann says, but he’s smiling. He swipes a few pretzels back. “Get your own. The bowl is right there.”

Newt steals another from Hermann’s plate. “It’s a crying shame you didn’t borrow my jeans, too,” he says. “I bet you could rock ��em.”

“Mm, I highly doubt that.”

“You absolutely could,” Newt says. He glances around to make sure no one’s looking, and quickly darts his hand out to pinch Hermann’s ass. Hermann drops the spoon back into the pretzel bowl in surprise. “Though I guess there’s not much to fill them out--”

“You’re a wretched little man,” Hermann says, for the second time that day. The guy really needs some new insults.

“Your voice was really fucking good, by the way,” Newt says, casually, as they lurk in a different corner (lit up with a blacklight) a few minutes later. He’s finally gotten his own plate of food, though he keeps stealing from Hermann’s anyway. “Your Newt voice, I mean. And the--�� He waves his hands around. “Do you practice it a lot?”

This pulls a snort from Hermann. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How’s it so good, then?” Newt pushes, and Hermann shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I suppose I just--pay attention to you.”

Newt cracks a grin, and bumps his elbow against Hermann’s side. “I would kinda hope so.”

“Not like--” Hermann sighs; Newt shuts up fast. (Hermann’s moments of emotional candidness are very, very rare: the most he’s ever done after a fun romp in the sack, beyond leaving immediately, is pat Newt’s hand and say thank you, Newton.) “What I mean to say is that I am...fond of you. Fonder than I am of anyone else. And I watch you, occasionally, because I am fond of you, and notice small things about you--your speech patterns, how you carry yourself...”

That’s, well--it’s certainly candid, and unexpected, and good, of course, to know that Hermann like-likes him, but it’s also a little-- “That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “You watch me?”

“That’s not--” Hermann stammers, and it turns into a quiet groan. “Oh, I’ve fouled this up. Newton--”

Newt saves him by stretching up on his tiptoes and planting a firm kiss on his mouth. Completely chaste. Devoid of any dirty intentions, like all of their previous kisses have been, like what they’re used to. Just a simple little kiss. It takes Hermann aback: Newt can feel him freeze up before he returns it tentatively.

It’s over in seconds. Newt pulls back and pats Hermann’s cheek. “I know what you mean,” he says. “I feel exactly the same way.” Then his grin returns. “I mean, I don’t watch you like a creep or anything--”

“Shut up,” Hermann says, pink-faced and very pleased.

[bookishable]

order of the phoenix book moments

“listening to the news! again?” “well, it changes every day, you see”

vernon: we’re not stupid harry: WeLL tHaT’s nEwS tO mE

“did he say you look like a pig that’s been taught to walk on its hind legs? ’cause that’s not cheek, dud, that’s true.”

“not this brave at night, are you?” “this is night, diddykins. that’s what we call it when it goes all dark like this.”

“what d’you mean, i’m not brave when i’m in bed? what am i supposed to be frightened of, pillows or something?”

“fought ’em off, did you, son? gave ’em the old one-two?” “you can’t give a dementor the old one-two”

tonks sending the dursleys a letter telling them they’d been short listed for the (non-existent) all-england best kept suburban lawn competition to keep them out the house so they could rescue harry

“snape’s on our side now” “doesn’t stop him being a git”

“dumbledore says he doesn’t care what they do as long as they don’t take him off the chocolate frog cards”

“kreacher lives to serve the noble house of black—” “and it’s getting blacker every day, it’s filthy”

arthur and kingsley’s fake chat at the ministry

“if you can get away before seven, molly’s making meatballs.”

‘a powerful emotion had risen in harry’s chest at the sight of dumbledore, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him.’

“you got our message that the time and place of the hearing had been changed?” “i must have missed it, however, due to a lucky mistake i arrived at the ministry three hours early”

“a prefect! that’s everyone in the family!” “what are fred and i, next-door neighbours?”

harry’s personal growth moment where he realises he is happy for ron being made prefect and beating him at something for the first time, and that harry isn’t any better than him

luna: you’re harry potter harry: i know i am

neville saying “i’m nobody” and ginny being like “no you’re not” ugh we stan this friendship

the quibbler’s article on whether sirius is a notorious mass murderer or innocent singing sensation

“i, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that i, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.” “yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone.”

‘luna did not seem perturbed by ron’s rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.’

“i told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. and it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, harry, because in case you haven’t noticed, ron and i are on your side.”

“i dreamed i was playing quidditch the other night, what do you reckon that means?” “probably that you’re going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something”

“have a biscuit, potter.”

hermione knitting hats for the house-elves

“they didn’t look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.” hermione did not speak to him all morning.

harry and ron meeting each other in the hallway, both trying to hide something but failing, harry being excited that ron wants to join the quidditch team, and ron noticing harry’s injury and being horrified we love this friendship

“ron had been honest with him, so he told ron the truth”

harry’s excellent attempt at writing a letter to sirius without obscurely revealing anything in case it got intercepted

“if you want to ‘sever ties’ with me, i swear i won’t get violent.”

“yeah, quirrell was a great teacher, there was just that minor drawback of him having lord voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.”

“i was just wondering, professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—” “obviously i received it, or i would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom” minerva strikes again

luna: the ministry’s got an army of heliopaths neville: an army of what luna: great flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everyth— hermione: they don’t exist, neville luna: oh yes they do

harry pretending to be ill so he could skip history of magic and find someone to help hedwig

“i can’t see any boils” “no, well, you wouldn’t, they’re not in a place we generally display to the public.” “but they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the—”

“the DA’s good, only let’s make it stand for dumbledore’s army, because that’s the ministry’s worst fear, isn’t it?”

hermione making the fake galleons and everyone being like what because it’s NEWT level magic

‘even fred had said that ron might yet make him and george proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting he was related to them, something they assured him they had been trying to deny for four years.’

“hey, potty, i heard warrington’s sworn to knock you off your broom on saturday” “warrington’s aim’s so pathetic i’d be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me” god i love harry in this book

luna’s lion hat: “i wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent slytherin, you know, but there wasn’t time.”

dobby decorating the room of requirement with baubles of harry’s face saying ‘have a very harry christmas’

“ron, you are the most insensitive wart i have ever had the misfortune to meet.” it’s not true but it’s funny lmao

harry: next minute she’s crying all over me and i didn’t know what to do ron: don’t blame you, mate

‘that’s what they should teach us here, how girls’ brains work… it’d be more useful than divination, anyway…’

“i didn’t want anyone to talk to me” “well, that was a bit stupid of you, seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by you-know-who, and i can tell you how it feels.” “i forgot” “lucky you”

sirius singing ‘god rest ye, merry hippogriffs’

arthur using stitches on his snake bites and molly exploding “it sounds as though you’ve been trying to sew your skin back together… WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT’S THE GENERAL IDEA?”

harry trying to distract the others when he realises neville’s parents are in the same ward that they are in, so neville can leave unnoticed

harry being oblivious to the fact cho wants to go to hogsmeade with him for valentine’s day

“if we can’t trust dumbledore, we can’t trust anyone.”

harry being oblivious (the sequel) and telling cho he was meeting hermione after their date, bless my son he’s trying his best

“why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?”

‘hermione was sitting at a table with the unlikeliest pair of drinking mates he could ever have imagined: luna lovegood and none other than rita skeeter, one of hermione’s least favourite people in the world.’

“cho? a girl?” “it’s none of your business if harry’s been with a hundred girls” this is my favourite version of hermione

“it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think i am, too,” hermione added as an afterthought. “but i don’t think you’re ugly”

“she’s been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren’t looking”

“if zacharias smith beats us i might have to kill myself.” “kill him, more like”

“hermione, you’re good on feelings and stuff, but you just don’t understand about quidditch.” “maybe not, but at least my happiness doesn’t depend on ron’s goalkeeping ability.”

‘out of respect for his feelings, harry waited a while before going up to the dormitory himself, so that ron could pretend to be asleep if he wanted to.’

dumbledore choosing firenze to teach divination knowing full well umbridge hated half-breeds

kingsley, dumbledore and mcgonagall’s genius way of saving the situation in dumbledore’s office after the DA meetings had been uncovered

“well, usually when a person shakes their head, they mean ‘no’. so unless miss edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans—”

“i have absolutely no intention of being sent to azkaban. i could break out, of course—but what a waste of time, and frankly, i can think of a whole host of things i would rather be doing.”

all the teachers pretending they couldn’t get rid of the fireworks to make umbridge run around the entire school to do so

“i could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but i wasn’t sure whether or not i had the authority.”

“give five signs that identify the werewolf. one: he’s sitting in my chair. two: he’s wearing my clothes. three: his name’s remus lupin.”

“the thing about growing up with fred and george, is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

“you’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle, good sense of when to duck, more like.”

“are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a cough drop, dolores?”

“he has achieved high marks in all defence against the dark arts tests set by a competent teacher.”

“this boy has as much chance of becoming an auror as dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.” “a very good chance, then”

“she hated him!” “nah, she didn’t”

“your father was the best friend i ever had and he was a good person. a lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. he grew out of it.”

“give her hell from us, peeves.”

the catchphrase “one more lesson like that and i might just do a weasley” being a trend

‘umbridge-itis’

harry witnessed professor mcgonagall walking right past peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, “it unscrews the other way.”

WEASLEY IS OUR KING

the fifth and seventh years starting a black-market trade selling ‘brain stimulants’ for the exams

“i don’t care if my tea-leaves spell die, ron die—i’m just chucking them in the bin where they belong.”

‘even through his anger and impatience, harry recognised hermione’s offer to accompany him into umbridge’s office as a sign of solidarity and loyalty.’

ginny’s notorious bat bogey hex

“we were all in the DA together, it was all supposed to be about fighting you-know-who, wasn’t it? and this is the first chance we’ve had to do something real—or was that all just a game or something?”

“you do care, you care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

“by all means continue destroying my possessions, i daresay i have too many.”

“in the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. it was your heart that saved you.”

‘sirius seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark…’

flitwick leaving a patch of the swamp as a monument to fred and george, and because it was “a really good bit of magic”

“you’re dead, potter.” “funny, you’d think i’d have stopped walking around…”

mgonagall arriving back at hogwarts just as snape tries to take points from gryffindor like ‘no bitch, they can have 500 points instead for fighting death eaters’

‘professor mcgonagall was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after umbridge herself, because peeves had borrowed her walking stick.’

“i expect what you’re not aware of would fill several books, dursley”

“are you threatening me, sir?” “yes, i am,” said mad-eye, who seemed rather pleased that uncle vernon had grasped this fact so quickly.

“do i look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?” “yes, i’d have to say you do” moody just ended this book with three straight burns

[deerself]

what's your very favourite aspect of each of your f/os? what made you fall for them? this is an invitation to just tell me everything you love about them!! ;u; - 💙 flower

WAHHHH HELLO FLOWER TY FOR THIS ASK!!! its taking.... so much willpower not to just be like “boy pretty” SDFNDSJFSD i love them so much.... ill put this under a cut >:3 @flower-dreams-of-love

ahhh okay for kakashi its... a lot of things DSFDSFBHS he cares so much for his team??? hes sooo fuckin smart and perspective and COOL AS HELL and despite this hes just... the sweetest man. he just wants to read his book and chill and he never gets to and it makes me :’( i want to help him.... hes gone through SO MUCH and despite that hes still just this goofy laidback guy and is probably so touchstarved and just. HELLO let me cuddle you please???? i want to sit on his lap and play with his hair and kiss his dumb face and you know he’d just melt and hold me so close and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA also he’d be the biggest tease too about complimenting me out in public and sneaking in kisses when no ones watching (or denying me them like the big meanie he is) and i just want to see him smile okay i want him to be happy and i would make him happy >:3

deidara is PRETTY ok i said i wasnt gonna do that but HE IS okay???? but despite that hes just so.... unapologetically himself and hes unapologetic about everything he does whether it be his art or what he says but also just... unapologetic about how much he loves me you know that guy would be LOUD and proud about it and its so fuckin sweet omg???? he’ll yell to the heavens about it and EVERYONE gets sick of it but i never will i love him so much.... and despite seeming just so loud and... explosive all the time he likes being just really sweet and soft when no ones around and its SO CUTE...... he genuinely just wants to cuddle. all the time and he has this dorkiest grin that i love SO MUCH

itachi is... my biggest comfort F/O hes SO SWEET and so romantic and the guys so fuckin smart and intelligent and always knows the right things to say and hes gone through SO MUCH ok just... so much and i feel for him so bad. i want to cup his face in my hands and tell him that everythings going to be okay and that hes so loved and just let him cry because he deserves it my poor boy. he never gets a break in canon SO MUCH happens to him and it makes me so sad. we’d both just be massive comforts to each other I KNOW IT weve both gone through some terrible stuff and i want to tell him that everything will be ok and that I LOVE HIM because he deserves it. i want to cuddle him SO BAD and just... hold each other. this guys a tease too like he’ll whisper all the things to me to get me flustered and likes to joke around too. another sweet boy that i just want to see smile

AHHHHHHH obito!!!! my boy!!! my poor poor sweet boy. i havnt gotten up to where he actually shows up yet in the show but I DONT NEED TO to know that hes a sweet boy that deserves SO MUCH MORE THAN WHAT HE GOT. hes a MASSIVE DORK and if none of the stuff that happened to him happened he’d just be the sweetest boy... all smiles and laughs and genuinely just has so much love to give. but even as he is in the akatsuki hes a grumpy boy and idc I LOVE HIM. he gets pouty and moody and its fucking adorable but when hes not he just has this adorable smile that i love so much ;o; hes sosososo affectionate and lovey dovey when its just us and i want to just SMOTHER him in love. like he deserves. honestly idc what anyone else says he IS the best boy. i love you so much obito youre my whole world

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2 Chapter 20

Your girl, she go hard in the baste Swangin' on them, swangin' on them, swangin' on my ways Swangin' on my ways Swangin' on my ways I've been thinking like, "Ayy, yo" And I've been thinking like, "Ayy, yo" (Sound of rain helps me let go of the pain) And I've been thinking like, "Ayy, yo" (Sound of rain helps me let go of the pain)

Solange—"Sound of Rain"

Ungubani?

Who are you?

I asked this question of myself many times. Often times, I do not know. But I do know I am no longer the man my country knew. Maybe love? My son?

It has all changed me. T'Chaka must see what we can do, how we can change the course of time for the people who struggle so much in this land. Strangers to me, but my brothers and sisters still. How can I look at them, with the same skin as me, stolen from the same place I came from and not reach out to them? How can I sit idly by and watch in pain and return to Wakanda as if there was nothing to see at all?

Who am I?

A war dog who will not leave the lost tribe behind again. Who are you, my son? You will ask this one day and know the answer: N'Jadaka, son of N'Jobu.

My son.

###

My woman is in pain. We have been back home for a month since Lia's death, and I am set to leave for Wakanda and I am frightened. As a family, we have gone to three sessions with Dr. Davis. I thank Bast that children have the resilience to bounce back from tragedy. Our son struggles. He has good days and bad days, but most of his bad days come from his worry over Califia.

She is not faring well.

She has lost weight from not eating and she suffers from insomnia. She has taken leave from work and spends days in bed. The most that she allows me to do for her is to hold her at night and look after Erik. She self-medicates with edibles so that Erik won't smell marijuana smoke on her.

Lia's family has planned a private memorial for her, and I do not want Califia or Erik to go. She is furious with me, even though Lia's entire family and her own family agree that she and Erik should stay in the States for now. There are plans for a large public memorial next year. There have been protests and marches throughout Brazil and other parts of the world in solidarity with Lia's memory. Califia's pain and anger and lack of concern for her health make me question whether I can trust her to care for Erik when I am gone. Dante and Nana Jean have made plans to step in for me along with Rolita. Dante questions why I have to leave for a month when Califia needs me and the only thing that saves me from his questioning is that I tell him I must work to cover the bills since Califia isn't working. 

I have been bringing Erik over to my apartment to give him some semblance of a normal home life and to also give Califia privacy when her crying gets bad and she begs me to take our son away so he doesn't have to see her. On those days I call Rolita to watch her, and I make the time alone with my son the best that I can. James hangs with us a lot, and he has been a source of strength when I can't speak to Bakari. Erik is crazy about James, and they spend a lot of time playing video games together and streaming anime.

Erik is asleep in my apartment bedroom and I write this on my couch. Tomorrow we will go home to his mother and I will cook for both of them. I miss my woman so much. I miss touching her in that way. I miss kissing her. I miss her laughter. I miss her being that incredible mother to my son. I miss us.

###

This man Klaue will meet with me in the Netherlands. Sita has found a safe place for us to interact. A place that we can control access to. When I return to Wakanda I will know for sure who I can count on among the war dogs. I will also have to gain all access codes in order to lay my hands on the Vibranium I need. I have someone in place that I have turned who can help me. I just have to keep T'Chaka off of my back. He has been very open about keeping me close to him on this trip home. Zinzi has been cryptic about what's been happening, so I suspect she is being watched carefully too because of our closeness.

My meeting with Klaue has to go off without a hitch because my only chance to see him without surveillance right now is when I fly home. I made sure to choose a flight with a long layover in Northern Europe. I will have six hours to feel this man out. If I can use him, I will. Sita was right about him in one respect; he is a little whore for money. My research on him tells me he is willing to do anything for it.

###

N'Jobu dressed in warm layers and kept his dark glasses on when he entered the small villa in Amsterdam. He made sure to enter the country under an alias and not as Prince N'Jobu so he wouldn't have to bring any Doras with him. Sita came as his personal guard and even though she had secured the property and hired extra protection under her control, she was still wary of Klaue. Klaue was told to come alone and was watched and followed to make sure he did what he was told. N'Jobu gave orders to kill him on site if he did not acquiesce to all of his demands for secrecy. N'Jobu would not reveal his identity to the man. All that he was told was that some goods would need to be secretly couriered out of the country in the future and there was a handsome reward for his services if he should be used.

The semi-detached modern-styled steel and glass villa had plenty of open space surrounding it to give N'Jobu's people eyes on the meeting at all times. Snipers were in position, and if the meeting went left, Klaue would be disposed of and N'Jobu would go home and find someone else to ferry the Vibranium out.

Sitting at a small table facing the main glass entrance, N'Jobu and Sita watched a lone brown Mercedes meander up the winding driveway and park.

A short messy brown-haired man in an ill-fitting suit stepped from the driver's door and scanned the villa. One of Sita's hired hands stepped forward and patted Klaue down while another kept a gun trained on him.

"Great welcome committee!" Klaue shouted out loud enough so that N'Jobu could hear him.

Stepping into the villa, Klaue had a nervous swagger about him that was more bravado and posturing rather than real confidence. The Black faces that stared at him as he stood before N'Jobu had the man second-guessing who he was fucking with.

Klaue smelled of an over-dosing of expensive Italian cologne and poor personal hygiene. His greasy-looking hair and body odor offended N'Jobu. The poor-fitting suit was expensive but not tailor-made and looking at the man from head to toe, the watery light eyes, the liver lips, and a hodge-podge of tattoos on his arms, he could tell the little man was new to expensive tastes. N'Jobu's nose crinkled and he pointed to the chair seated across from him. Klaue sat down.

"Well, I'm here. Let's talk," Klaue said, "Mind if I smoke?"

N'Jobu gave a slight nod.

"I'll take that as a yes then," Klaue said slowly reaching into his suit pocket. He lit up a spicy-smelling thin cigarette.

"Ashtray?" Klaue asked.

Sita placed a glass of water in front of him.

"Wakanda," Klaue said.

N'Jobu stayed silent. This made Klaue even more nervous.

He studied the Afrikaner a little more. The future of his immediate family, Califia and Erik, depended on this thin rat-looking thing sitting before him. The only way N'Jobu could help the Black diaspora was through getting his hands on enough Vibranium to support a world-wide revolution. And the irony of it all was that a racist White South African was going to help jumpstart that revolution. And unbeknownst to Klaue, helping N'Jobu would usher in his own demise, the end of White Supremacy and the end of all of those who supported it, even other Black and non-Black people of color.

Sita stepped forward and handed Klaue a small satchel. The man opened it. His eyes seemed impressed.

"Just for showing up? Twenty-Five thousand in U.S. dollars?" Klaue said.

N'Jobu nodded. When he felt the man was going to burst if he didn't speak soon, N'Jobu folded his hands in his lap.

"Your record is clean. And when things have gone awry, you disappear. I like that."

"He speaks!" Klaue exclaimed, holding his hands up and looking around the room smiling hard. Not one Black face gave him warmth.

"This is just part of a retainer. If I like what I hear, then you will receive another seventy-five thousand to help collect your team within the next year," N'Jobu said.

Klaue leaned forward while listening to N'Jobu's voice. He pointed to N'Jobu's face.

"You're��you're not just some radical. The way you talk…you are a higher up—"

"Who he is, that is not your business. You are here to listen and do what we ask," Sita hissed, moving closer to him, her hand on a gun holstered to her hip.

N'Jobu whispered to her in Wakandan to chill. The three other war dogs in the room along with the three hired hands stepped closer, letting Klaue know to watch his mouth.

"I get the feeling that what I am asked to retrieve aren't just some priceless artifacts," Klaue said, the smile sliding off of his face, "Human trafficking?"

This was the part of the conversation N'Jobu was waiting for. The part he wished he didn't have to divulge, but he had to because even though Vibranium was undetectable to outside modern metal detectors and such, it wasn't stable, and Klaue would have to be shown how to smuggle it out safely.

N'Jobu motioned with his fingers for Sita to bring forth the sample of Vibranium enclosed in a protective capsule.

The luminous electric blue glow mesmerized Klaue's eyes. The man's mouth slipped open.

"Fuck it to hell…" he said standing up when the phosphorescent capsule was placed in his hand, "is this really…is this-?"

"Vibranium," N'Jobu said watching Klaue closely.

"I'm in—"

"We still have to discuss my terms and timetable—" "I don't care! I am in. Whatever your terms or timetable. I already know you will pay me well."

Klaue regarded N'Jobu with gleaming eyes. Sita took the Vibranium from Klaue's fingers and he tracked the luminous glow as she placed it in N'Jobu's hand.

"That small amount right there is worth millions. How much more do you have?" Klaue asked.

"Let us speak about your operation. How quickly can you organize a retraction team?"

Klaue took the hint that he would not be told more about their holdings. It was all need to know moving forward.

"Three to four months tops."

"Understand, I will wipe out you and your people if at any time I suspect chicanery."

"I am a professional. I do thorough background checks on all my people. You've done your homework, I'm sure."

"Talk to me," N'Jobu said leaning back in his seat.

The greasy-haired man in the ill-fitting suit leaned forward, a full smile widening his mouth and showing the glint of cheap gold-rimmed teeth.

"I will tell you all that you want to know," Klaue said.

And he did.

###

On the ride to the airport in the secured SUV, Sita kept staring at N'Jobu's face.

"What do you think, Your Highness?" she asked.

"We should not trust him at all, but he has the juice to get what we need to be done completed."

"Will I see you again on your way back to the States?" she asked.

"Yes. D'Beke will join us and we can begin."

Sita's face looked pleased. She even gave him a smile.

"What is happening at home?"

Sita's smile faded.

"The King….your brother…he has been putting dissenters in jail."

"What?"

"There have been political protests taking place in several Birnans. There's a new spiritualist cult that has had some major growth in followers who have been causing problems. Some protests have become rather violent, and King T'Chaka has taken in leaders and incarcerated them."

"What are they protesting exactly?"

"The lack of democracy in a monarchy. What else? The lack of freedom they have to practice their religion—"

"The Udaku family has never shunned nor stopped religious freedom from marginal religions—"

"Maybe in the past. Maybe when your father was King. But King T'Chaka…he is not so tolerant these days. He claims it is an affront to the crown, a wedge issue to fracture the power of his throne."

"You believe this, Sita? Speak freely."

"I believe what I see, and I have seen even moderate dissenters vilified by your brother."

"But jail-?"

"There was talk that one of the incarcerated planned to assassinate the King."

N'Jobu's body jerked when he heard that. His kimoyo beads heated up and N'Jobu tapped his earbud.

"T'Chaka," N'Jobu said.

Sita remained quiet while he took the call by audio only.

###

Califia carefully flipped over the waffle she made for Erik onto a plate.

"JaJa!"

She heard her son's feet running down the stairs, and by the time he reached the kitchen, she had his plate on the kitchen table next to a glass of grape juice.

"Hot off the griddle," she said.

Erik studied her face and she gave him a healthy smile. His face relaxed and he sat at the table.

She passed him the butter and syrup and helped herself to a piece of sausage. Erik watched her plate.

"Got my appetite back," she said.

He gave her some dimples and she forced herself to eat even though she really didn't want to. She made up her mind to force herself through this pain. She was hurt when N'Jobu told her that he wasn't sure that she could handle their household while he was gone. She counted on him to care for Erik while she fell apart, but it fractured their relationship when he treated her like an irresponsible child. Calling people to watch her and Erik when he left the house. Each time she cried, the look on his face made her feel like he wished she could just get over what happened to Lia quickly so that she could cater to him once more.

Their last night together before he left for Wakanda was pleasant, almost their regular interaction as a family. She worked hard to show him that she was capable of being present for their son. It was also the first time they had sex together since Lia's death, and she only did it to please him, to make him feel like she was okay even when she didn't feel okay. It took her a long time to get self-lubricated, but their kissing took up a lot of time and allowed her body to ease into sex before he could notice that her senses were not in tune with his.

N'Jobu kissed her mouth for a long time before his hands even reached for her breasts or even tried to touch her between her legs. He was so happy and touch-starved for her that his focus was on sections of her. Her lips. Her tongue. Her throat. The tender spots behind her ears. The space between her breasts. Her nipples. Her belly. Her inner thigh and hips.

He kissed and licked her vulva as if it was his first time being down there, and by then, she was wet enough to accommodate his desperate erection. The moans and raspy grunts that fell inside her ear as he pumped in an out of her pleased her. She could still take care of him physically even if she wasn't really there emotionally for him. She opened her legs wide and when she looked up into his face, it was contorted in deep pleasure. His forehead creased tighter and he was exhaling hard pants.

"Califia…Califia…"

Back in Brazil she was depressed, anxious, and scared about his leaving, hungry for any physical contact with him. But now? She was ready for him to leave. She needed to grieve longer without the judgment in his eyes, without him making her feel guilty if she broke down in the middle of the day.

She put her pussy on him thrust for thrust and held his shoulders, her breath coming out faster as she felt him reaching his peak.

"Daddy—"

N'Jobu's lips thrust out when she said that.

"You ready for Daddy to cum?"

"Yeah—"

"Tell Daddy you want him to cum—"

"Jobu—"

"Tell me Califia…baby…tell me…"

He was gasping, twisting her leg to get leverage for more friction.

"…this pussy…" he growled in her ear.

"Yeah," she exhaled.

She could feel the solid fullness that his dick always filled her up with, but she wasn't really feeling anything, not in the way she wanted to but could not reach because of the trauma she was clinging to. She wished she could let go like him. Use sex to get a mental release. Her body wasn't giving her any signs of wanting to orgasm. And N'Jobu's dick was going at her hard as fuck. Their bed was shaking.

She wanted this to end before she started crying in the way that would upset him. She cradled his head and pressed her lips close to his ear.

"Cum in your pussy, Daddy…"

She dragged out the word Daddy so that it sounded reckless and raw and she felt her man seize up tight then thrust his hips into her hard, his voice gone. The swelled pulses coming from his dick only secured the knowledge that a flood of hot semen was coating her insides. She would still be dripping his seed even when he was flying across the Atlantic. And a nut that good to him would only encourage him to seek more.

He kissed her lips and along her neck, and when he pulled out of her, his mouth sought to eat her folds to make her cum. But she pulled him back up and hugged him. Once he realized she didn't want any more sexual contact, he held her tight and rocked her in his arms.

"You okay?" he asked, kissing her cheek.

"I'm fine. I just want to make you feel good."

"Let me take care of you, baby."

"You did," she said playing with the thick ejaculate spilling from her pussy. His eyes watched her fingers and he stroked his dick.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, his voice getting tight from seeing her shove her fingers inside her pussy.

"I'll miss you too," she said.

She played with her pussy lips for him until he lost it.

"Look how you make me nut!" he cried out, shooting cum on her fingers as she held her labia open for him. He had soaked up their sheets with his sweat and cum, but he held her on top of him until he fell asleep. When he was softly snoring, she crawled off of him and showered. Cleaning her body, she let her tears fall with the warm water flowing over her.

Her thoughts snapped back to Erik, and she surprised herself by eating more than she thought she would. Maybe her appetite had finally returned. Maybe she could get it together while N'Jobu was gone.

"We're going to see Grandpop and Nana Jean today," she said.

"Cool," Erik said stuffing his mouth with waffle.

"Baba, leave a voice message yet?" she asked.

"No. He texted that he made it to Atlanta. I missed the call on my phone," he said.

Califia had checked her phone, but nothing was there. He probably thought she was sleeping in again. At least he texted. She knew he was in Amsterdam for a layover. He always sent an email from a burner account when he made it to Wakanda.

Erik was watching her again.

"What?" she asked smiling at him.

"Nothin'. You look happy."

"I am happy."

Erik picked at his plate unsure of something.

"We're going to be okay, baby."

"I know you miss Auntie Lia, Mom. I miss her too."

The sound of her name still hurt and Califia felt her eyes prick with water. She fought to be strong. Their first day alone together and she didn't want her son to feel unsure of her. She crammed a sausage in her mouth and picked up a glass of orange juice.

"Nana wants to know what you want for dinner."

"Pizza—"

"Pizza? Nana said she was cooking and you want pizza? Boy, are you crazy!"

Erik giggled. He drank his juice and pushed back his plate.

"Enchiladas."

"That's better," she said.

After she cleaned up the kitchen, she drove them over to her grandmother's and as they walked up the hill to reach the house, they found Dante inside the garage working on his latest project; restoring a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle, midnight black, a pure brute swinging 450-horsepower battle axe.

Dante was on a roller under the car when they saw him.

"Hey now!" he said.

"Grandpop!" Erik squealed.

Dante rolled out from under the car and picked Erik up. He gave Califia a kiss on her cheek and patted her shoulder.

"Looking good, Cali," he said.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"There's my baby!"

Nana Jean walked out from the front porch.

"Nana, stay up there, we'll come up," Califia said heading toward her grandmother.

Erik ran past her and hugged Nana Jean's waist.

"Dayclean make it okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Califia said.

"Good."

Nana Jean made Erik help her fold laundry while Califia cleaned up the kitchen for her grandmother to make her enchiladas later in the day. Keeping busy with her family kept her mind away from sadness and she felt good. Real good.

She went into the small family room to do some dusting of cobwebs and family photos and her eyes caught sight of an old picture on the fireplace mantle of her and N'Jobu on the porch holding Erik when he was a baby and Califia felt her chest grow tight.

Seeing N'Jobu's face took her breath away and she felt guilty. Guilty for not giving all of herself to him before he left. Not just her body and mind, but her spirit as well. Lia was about moving forward, no matter what, and Califia let herself get stuck because of the rage she still felt. Erik was so adorable as a baby and the memory of that day weighed on her. She had sent that exact picture to Lia and Soliel, and Lia had texted her the moment she received it and told her to raise her son up well and strong.

She pulled her cell from her jean pocket and called N'Jobu's burner phone. The voicemail picked up right away.

"N'Jobu…baby, I miss you. Call me when you make it there…when you can get privacy. We're over at Nana's and everything is good. I just…I want you to know that I'm here. I'm here for our son, and I'm here for myself. I'm here for you. I need to hear your voice, okay?"

She wiped away a tear and smiled, still looking at the picture and his beautiful face. Those gorgeous teeth. Those full lips. The lips he gave their little boy. Those eyes that Erik also had—

Her cell buzzed and she recognized the burner number. She swiped her screen.

"Califia."

His voice made her gasp. Erik walked up next to her.

"Mom…"

"It's Baba," she said, wrapping her arm around Erik's shoulder.

"I'm leaving for Wakanda soon. I'm so glad you called me," he said.

"Babe…I've been so lost since we came home. I know you have tried your best to be understanding. I was stuck—"

"I know, my love, I know—"

"I promise you that you can have faith in me getting through this—"

"If I made you feel—"

"I shut everything out and made you take care of everything. It wasn't right. I'm standing here in Nana's family room and she has the picture of you and me when we first brought Erik here. I saw your face, baby…I saw your face and I forgot that you need me too…"

She could hear his voice shuddering over the phone like she had made him cry. He exhaled hard.

"I love you," he said, his voice soft and full of longing.

"I love you too…hey, quickly, talk to Erik before you have to turn your phone off," she said.

She handed the phone to Erik.

"Baba…yes…yes. I will. Uh, huh. They are fine. I know…I will. I love you too. Okay…"

Erik handed the phone back to Califia. She wiped her eyes with her free hand. Her nose felt runny.

"My love. There are some potential problems back home. My brother has some political dissenters, so I may not be able to speak to you as often as you would like. But don't worry. I will text and email you when I can—"

"You'll be safe right?"

"I will be fine. My brother will need me around him more, and because of that, I won't have a lot of privacy for security reasons."

"Okay," she said. He had confidence in his voice, and she knew that once he was in Wakanda, he would have his Doras with him. And those sistas did not play.

"Tell me you love me again," he said.

"I love you…we both love you very much—"

"Bye, Baba!" Erik yelled into the phone.

"Until I see you both again. Be well, my love."

Her lip trembled a little when he was gone. She looked down at Erik.

"Shall we go help Grandpop with the car?"

Erik nodded. He threw his arms around her waist and pressed his head into her chest.

"Don't worry, Mom. Baba will be back soon."

She stroked his hair and kissed the top of his forehead.

###

For security precautions, N'Jobu was escorted into Wakanda over the border of Canaan inside a military Tusk Fighter aircraft instead of one of the Royal crafts. Once he was flown secretly into the country, he was driven by a super discreet convoy with Ometeko and Yejide by his side. His two faithful Doras were thrilled to see him, but also hyper vigilante in watching over him as they moved through several Birnans to get to the golden one of his birth.

His parents greeted him under the cover of darkness as he was ushered into the palace.

His mother could not stop touching him, exclaiming that he looked a bit worn. Lia's death and his family struggles hovered over him, but speaking to Califia and Erik earlier in the day made him feel confident that he could get through this check-in.

As he walked through the palace and headed up to his brother's private suite, he thought of Califia and how their last night together was so one-sided in affection. He wanted her so bad that night.

After he had put Erik to bed and joined Califia in their bedroom, she was fully naked under the covers. He hadn't seen or felt her nude body in so long that the moment he slipped under the covers and felt her naked thigh and hip touch him, the thickening of his penis didn't take long. When she had allowed him to penetrate her, it felt different. She was going through the motions but he couldn't quite get her to connect with his pleasure. They had always had the ability to create a mesmerizing feedback loop in their intimacy, but that time, it didn't happen. Instead of stopping, he became selfish and took what she gave because he missed her sexually. He needed her body. He needed to feel her tight ring of muscles surrounding his manhood. He needed to feel those big tits and see them bouncing. He needed to feel his semen spurting inside of her, his sack draining weeks of build-up. He let his desire for her override any reason to stop and make sure she matched his vibe.

At that moment, the sex was great for him, but it was like the sex he had while in school; all about the pleasure that his dick got without concerns about love or the other emotional aspects of two humans connecting. They didn't make love. He just fucked her. And he was all about the fucking because he hadn't had it in so long.

But talking to her…hearing her tell him that she would be fine…she made him cry. She made him determined to push forth and plan the best strategy to free them all.

The elevator ride up to T'Chaka's suite felt long, but once he stepped out with Ometeko and Yejide by his side, his dip had returned to his step. His entrance into T'Chaka's private quarters was full of confidence.

"Uncle N'Jobu!"

T'Challa's voice surprised him and when N'Jobu turned to look at his nephew, his eyes grew wide for a second at how much older he looked. The twelve-year-old appeared before him in his royal purple pajamas, his once full head of curly hair cut short and tapered. His voice even sounded different. Clearly, puberty was upon him. N'Jobu's heart ached staring at him. He held out his arms and his nephew ran into them, hugging him hard.

"My nephew! What are you doing up so late?"

"I wanted to see you as soon as you arrived. I have missed you so much, Uncle!"

"Oh! How I have missed you too!"

N'Jobu saw his brother enter the room. No smile on his face. Just worry. And something else. Indignation.

N'Jobu saw another young boy standing off to the side, his big round eyes shyly watching N'Jobu as if he were in awe.

"And who is this?" N'Jobu asked, waving his hand for the child to step forward.

"W'Kabi, stop acting scared. It is only my Uncle. Uncle N'Jobu, this is my best friend, W'Kabi," T'Challa said.

"W'Kabi…W'Kabi? Why do I know your name?" N'Jobu asked. He could see the child wearing a blue night robe with the Border Tribe's dark blue sigil sewn into the collar. A horseman with a fluttering blanket wrapped around the shoulders.

"My father protects the borderlands, Your Highness," the boy said. He bowed his head to N'Jobu.

"Tankiso is his father,' T'Chaka said.

N'Jobu did his best to keep his reaction neutral. He knew the boy's father. Tankiso would be N'Jobu's inside man to help him smuggle the Vibranium out of Wakanda and into Niganda with Klaue when the time came.

"Pleased to meet you, W'Kabi," N'Jobu said. He held out his hand to shake, and W'Kabi stared at T'Challa first and then T'Chaka.

"Do not be foolish, W'Kabi, you can shake my Uncle's hand. He is a Prince like me. Not the King!" T'Challa laughed.

W'Kabi smiled and took N'Jobu's hand. It was a firm handshake and N'Jobu was impressed by the confidence he felt there.

"Alright, boys. Off to bed now. Prince N'Jobu and I must talk," T'Chaka said heading toward his private bar.

"Goodnight, Uncle," T'Challa said hugging N'Jobu once more. W'Kabi bowed and N'Jobu watched the two children leave the suite followed by T'Challa's personal Dora.

"They are like brothers," T'Chaka said handing N'Jobu a small glass of plum liquor.

Brothers.

If Erik were here, he would probably join along with his cousin, the three boys staying up late and giggling, maybe even running around the palace in secret like he and T'Chaka did when they were young boys long ago.

N'Jobu sipped the plum liquor thinking of his son. Erik would wear the silk robes of the Golden Tribe, N'Jobu's family sigil sewn into the collar. He could imagine hearing the sound of Erik's sweet laughter ricocheting off the high walls and ceilings of the Eastern Palace. The soft patter of Califia's feet would probably echo in the halls as she would no doubt be the one to hustle the boys back to bed. For a second, N'Jobu closed his eyes and tried to see her wearing his royal robes and returning to the large bed in his suite down below. He so wanted to make real love to her again. Body and soul together.

"No problems getting into the country, Baby Brother?"

"No," N'Jobu said opening his eyes back up and finishing the plum liquor.

"Sit," T'Chaka said.

N'Jobu padded over to the couch near the expansive window that reflected the twinkling of city lights below.

"Things are not well here."

"I have been made aware," N'Jobu said.

"Your thoughts?"

"I am shocked that the one man you have imprisoned, the one they say tried to plot an assassination…what proof do you really have to keep him incarcerated—"

"Proof? Are you implying that I would just throw someone into confinement just on a whim?"

"From what I have gathered on my own there has only been speculation and flexing—"

"Would you have me wait for outright harm to come to me or to someone in our family first?"

"Of course not—"

"Then why question my rule?"

"Will this man have a trial?"

T'Chaka waved his hand at N'Jobu.

"Enough. No more talk of this. It is not your concern."

T'Chaka poured more plum liquor into his glass and he held up the bottle for N'Jobu.

N'Jobu took the bottle and poured more in his own glass. They both sipped and eyed each other. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," T'Chaka said.

Whoa.

A voluptuous young woman with flashing eyes stepped into the room wearing a long mauve River Tribe styled evening tunic.

"Your Highness," she said, keeping her eyes respectfully downcast when she saw N'Jobu. She was beautiful, her hair tied back allowing her thick braids to fall down her back and N'Jobu knew exactly what she was there for.

"Prince N'Jobu, let us speak more in the morning. Breakfast with Baba and Umama in the sunroom?"

"Yes," N'Jobu said, standing up. He glanced at the woman again and he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over what his brother was playing with at night. He knew for a fact that T'Chaka had several women in rotation for many years. It drove their parents crazy. Umama in particularly hated mistresses being anywhere near the palace, no matter who they were messing around with. Rumor had it that their own father tried to have a young plaything early in his marriage to their mother, but Umama took an ancient knife that allegedly belonged to the very first Black Panther, Bashenga, and threatened to cut off his scrotum and end the entire royal line of Udaku forever if he ever brought another woman into the palace. The fact that he and T'Chaka existed let N'Jobu know that his Baba must've stayed on the straight and narrow. There was no doubt that his mother would kill their father and any woman he had back then or now.

No wonder they wanted T'Chaka married again.

"This is Dineo. She will accompany you to your suite."

N'Jobu's eyes widened.

"A nice homecoming companion for you. It must be tough to find a beauty like this out there," T'Chaka said winking.

Crude. Distasteful. What was this? From his own brother?

Dineo allowed her eyes to rest on N'Jobu's face and he saw her lips part when she got a good look at him.

"Goodnight, T'Chaka," N'Jobu said putting his drink glass on the bar and leaving the room. Dineo followed him and Yejide followed them both.

When N'Jobu reached the private elevator, he turned to her.

"I do not need you," he whispered discreetly so Yejide didn't hear. Not that she didn't already know what Dineo was there for.

"I must accompany you to your suite regardless. The King has demanded this. Please, do not cause me trouble, Your Highness."

Dineo rode the elevator with him down to his suite.

When they reached the outside of his quarters, Ometeko looked shocked to see Dineo at his heels.

"Do not ask," he said to Ometeko as he swept into his space.

Dineo was right behind him when the doors swung shut.

"I am here. You can leave," he said, surprised that the woman even stepped into his private sphere.

Dineo fingered her braids and then allowed her long lashes to flutter as she placed her gaze fully on his face, all pretense of deference gone. She wanted to be there with him. Gently tugging on the clasps that held her tunic closed, the loose clothing dropped to her feet.

Shit.

Her nipples stood at attention as she played with them, and all those curves that the tunic hinted at earlier were more than true once fully revealed.

"I am here for you, Your Highness," she whispered.

"I understand that, however—"

"I hear you are known to make women cry when you make love to them, Your Highness."

He hadn't had sex with a woman in Wakanda for almost a decade.

"Dineo—"

"I have heard all the stories from here to Azania about you. I want you to make me cry," she said stepping toward him.

If this were another time, he would be all over this girl and rearranging her insides. But he had a woman at home that knocked him off of his feet, even five thousand miles away.

He turned his back on her and headed to his bedroom.

"Do not make me have you escorted out, Dineo," he tossed over his shoulder as he pressed his kimoyo beads opening his suite's front doors.

"Your Highness," Ometeko called into the space without entering.

"Please see to it that Dineo makes it back to her own home," N'Jobu said before slamming his bedroom door shut.

###

"N'Jobu."

His body relaxed when he saw Califia's face on his computer.

She was snug in their bed inside their townhouse.

"Erik is still asleep. Do you want me to wake him?"

"No, let him sleep. I sent him a recorded video for him to see when he wakes."

"How are things?"

"I'm still feeling things out. My brother is dealing with some political dissenters, some policy changes...blah, blah, blah." He tried to make things sound mundane to comfort her.

"You're not tired? You should be exhausted."

"I am," he said.

"It's raining here," she said, "a good clean rain. Everything smells so good outside."

"You sound well, my love."

"It's the rain. It makes me feel brand new. But it's not the same without you here to enjoy it with me."

She sat up in bed and he saw that she was nude.

"Baby, really? You know I'm on the other side of the world and you sit up there onscreen with those beautiful tits teasing me?"

She fondled her nipples for him.

"You're killing me over here," he said.

She really was, he felt his cock fatten in his pants.

"Let me really put you six feet under then," she said, peeling back the covers, showing him already plump glistening folds.

"Were you playing with yourself?"

"Mmmhmmm, right before you called," she sighed, her fingers plying her labia open.

"Fuck…Califia…"

N'Jobu groaned loud in his room and yanked down his pants.

Three fingers deep, Califia fingerfucked herself for him as he damn near stroked all the skin off of his dick.

When she came calling his name while staring at him, her legs spread wide, he shot thick ropes of his own cum onto his chest. He fell asleep to the sound of the rain falling on their skylight and her fingers playing with her clit ring, her voice softly telling him she loved him.

It was a blissful rest.

Chapter 21 HERE.

[thoughtsafter8]

Mental Health Awareness

Isn’t May Mental Health Awareness month? I think it is. I’m too lazy to google it. Unfortunately for me, mental health month is every month because *surprise* I suffer from several mental illnesses. I don’t really like to talk about the true depths of these illnesses, however, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide the grittiest details of my poor brain. Just a couple weeks ago I had to leave work because I began to suffer a panic attack induced by exhaustion, dehydration, and a med imbalance that had happened because I did that fun depression thing where I feel good for a minute, so I think I don’t need to follow up with my doctor. Anyway, I thought maybe it would help if I just, you know, put it all out there. Maybe some of you guys feel this way. Maybe I truly am the hot mess I think I am and should be snapped into the looney bin. Either way, I think it may take a load off.

So, again, a little about me (the abridged and most current version). I am a 34 (how in the hell?) year old infant teacher’s assistant, student of early childhood education and intervention, mom, and wife. My son has autism and adhd, my husband has had 3 heart attacks in three years, and my daughter is currently treading the waters of gender/sexuality while coming to terms with her own autistic tendencies and the fact that she is a teenager. I decided at the age of 32 to go to college on a wing and a prayer directly after my husband’s first heart attack and suffering the trauma of losing the home we had lived and raised our family in for 10 years. We were, for a short time, homeless. We currently live in public housing and I couldn’t be more grateful in that regard.

Fortunately, our financial situation began to line out earlier this year as my husband’s long-awaited disability hearing was approved. Nearly 3 years of counting pennies, skipping meals, and taking hand outs later I could go to bed without worrying whether I could stretch those 3 chicken breasts in the fridge across 4 days and dreading the summers because I could not fathom how we were going to feed the kids without the help of their school meals. This was a grand old time for my depression because on top of all the worry and the guilt I had the aforementioned responsibility of working my very first job and pinning down 5 classes each through those first few semesters. And that sort of sets the stage for where we are now.

Below I will discuss my diagnoses individually. Yes, they are separate and yes, they are all interwoven. It’s all complicated to discuss and explain, but I’ll do my best.

Clinical Depression: While I only got this diagnosis about 8 years ago, I am certain that I have suffered from depression my entire life. I’ve had life long self esteem and inferiority issues and difficulty with concentration, focus, and relationships, specifically friendships. I’ve maintained thoughts of unworthiness, worthlessness, and guilt, as if I am a burden on those around me. That I cry too much or am too sensitive. I am quite sensitive. A close friend once told me that I am an empath, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes I do think it’s a bad thing. I’m hard on myself and will judge myself worse and before anyone else.  This is specifically hard to deal with within my family as I have had to take the mantle of advocate for everyone. I’ve spoken at length of the struggles I face getting help for my kids and my husband, trudging through IEP meetings, and calling out people who use words like “retard” and “fag”. I have been forced so far out of my comfort zone that if I allow the depression even the slightest crack it will flood in. I’ve gotten better at this fight, but I still lose sometimes.

Anxiety: This one hasn’t been with me as long as the depression but started once we began to realize something was up with Gunner. Instead of fully recovering from trauma and moving on I love to internalize it. I think I put on a good face most of the time, but it has gotten so bad that even now, with everything that we have gotten through and managed to come out the other side, I do not trust it. I wake every day, not with a smile, but with a suspicion that today will be the day that everything I’ve worked for will come crashing down. My husband will fall sick again, something will happen to one of the kids at school, I’ll lose my job, have a car wreck on the way there, get a phone call that a loved one died or is sick. This sometimes manifests in OCD type behaviors. For example, I wake several times a night to make sure each member of my family is breathing. I have to see their chests rise and fall at least 5 times. I never let my kids wake Jeremy or come in to the house first after outings because I don’t want them to be the ones who find Jeremy dead. I worry. I worry so, so much. Sometimes I spiral and bite my nails until they bleed. For many years I suffered from dermatilomania, a body focused repetitive behavior aligned with self-harm where you basically pick at your skin or scabs to relieve internal tensions. This should be in a category of its own, but as I currently am not suffering from derma, I’ll let it go.

Imposter Syndrome: This is the newest one. And while it is not an actual diagnosis, I had no clue that there was even a word for the feelings that I began having once I started achieving personal successes. I am killing it at school and will graduate soon with an associate degree and 3 state certifications in early childcare and direction. Soon after I’ll begin pursuing a bachelor’s and managed to score a job in my desired field after just one semester in the program at a highly sought-after day care in my area. These are all good things! Amazing accomplishments some one like me should be proud of and own. It’s not that easy though. I’ve touched on this in a previous post, I think. It’s just so hard to see myself as a productive, professional type person. I bounce between feeling as if I don’t deserve my success and feeling crushing guilt at pursuing something that takes so much of my time away from my family, who still very much need me around. I am aware that a lot of people feel this way but combined with everything else I have going on upstairs, it makes it particularly difficult to overcome.

General Fear: Another not-actual-diagnosis, but something that goes hand in hand with the anxiety section of our tour is fear. Soul draining, insomnia inducing, heart breaking fear. Death is a biggy in this department. I fear for Jeremy, my mom, my grandma. Jeremy’s bad heart, my mom because, well, I don’t know what I would do without my mom, and my grandma because she is dealing with so many health issues. These three are the gates and cornerstone holding up my feeble mental fortress and if one of them is removed, everything will come down with them. I don’t really have any friends, so my family is supremely important and dear to me and I am constantly afraid of losing one of them. I also fear for my kids. The unending questions that come along with a kid/kids with special needs or circumstances. Will either of them ever be truly independent? Will Gunner be able to live alone, get a job, hold relationships, drive a car, get married? Will Daphne discover her truth? And in carrying that truth, will the world treat her with kindness? With her friends accept her decision? Am I prepared to deal with all this, god forbid, alone? The fear of doing *all this* by myself is maddening. I’ve never just been Brittany in my entire adult life. I’ve always been one half of a team. Surviving under different circumstances is something that, for over a decade, I never even contemplated. Now it’s every day life and that is terrifying.

With all this being said, and for those of you who don’t know me very well, this doesn’t mean that I’m sitting here hanging by a thread. I am still productive and love my school and work and family. This is all inside and as things have gotten harder to deal with I have come to the realization that I need the help of a professional. For several years I have relied on the help of different medications (currently I take Wellbutrin, Zoloft, and Vistaril. You can research these if you want) but I think it’s the right time for me to seek additional help. As of today, the referral has been submitted and now we wait. I hope to keep things documented through this blog both as documentation and anecdotes to share and as a means of measuring progress (or lack there of) and I hope some of you might share the journey with me. Thanks for listening/reading 😊

[exnobis-archived]

♛ FILL IN THE BLANKS | NOXTRA EDITION

(art commissioned from Nipuni)

MEME | ATTN: @starshrouded Tagged by: @theharellan Otherwise known as ‘Nox is Absurdly Sentimental and Astra has the Patience of a Saint - The Meme.’ This is predictably super long, so under the cut!

Who’s more likely to find who wearing their clothes?: This is a little tough because, especially in TES Verse, they would not fit in each other’s clothing. Still, I would say it may be possible to find Astra in one of Nox’s tunics for lounging from time to time, but more frequently you would find Nox having stolen one of Astra’s scarves. Especially if he’s traveling away from them. Having a reminder of them and their scent is comforting.

Who initiates hand holding?: Nox, Nox, and Nox. Not that Astra is not physically affectionate, they certainly can be. But Nox is definitely the more guilty of the two when it comes to public displays of affection.

Who likes having their hair washed by who?: This is definitely equal, actually. Nox washing Astra’s hair is in some ways just practical, considering they have a ton of hair. But he does like to make a thing of it, massaging their scalp and brushing it out to loosely braid it before it dries. On the flipside, Astra is actually one of the scarce few people who Nox is comfortable letting touch his hair. He’s very nervous about people touching his hair. But Astra has experience caring for natural hair, and they are very gentle with him, and he’s come to enjoy their touch and their scalp stritches very much.

Who likes to slow dance?: Brace yourselves - it’s Astra! Assuming you’re talking a proper dance and not that prom night type shuffling about. Both of them enjoy dancing, but Nox would typically prefer to do any other kind of dance over things that are slow as he finds them painfully boring. In fact, Astra’s the only person he will slow dance with. 

Muse that’s more likely to fall asleep with their head in the other's lap?: Oh Nox, easily. Nox likes to lounge, Nox likes to cuddle, and Astra’s lap is very comfortable. 

Muse that does all the cuddling in a blanket fort?: See above? Though really it’s hard to say - at this point in their relationship, they are so very familiar with each other’s wants and habits that one will move to initiate the other’s desire before they might even get a chance to. I.E. Astra moving to cuddle in first because they know Nox was getting ready to anyway. And again, it’s not like Astra isn’t physically affectionate, it’s just that Nox is a cuddlebug. 

Who hogs most of the covers at night?: Astra. Nox overheats and doesn’t like being too tangled up in blankets anyway.

Muse who nuzzles the other's shoulder to get them to give them a head rub?: Nox. Are you sensing a pattern here?

How do they share a desert? Two forks or one?: One! Believe me, they are well acquainted with each other's mouths.

Who gets jealous more easily?: Real jealousy is really not a problem for them. Jealousy is typically indicative of some sense of possession, and neither feel like they ‘posess’ the other. Absolute freedom is very much part of the foundation of their relationship - they put into it willingly, and they take nothing the other has not been willing to give. ...But Nox does like to whine sometimes, like the drama queen he is. Looking at you Sotha Sil.

Who gets angered more easily?: That depends on if you mean angered at each other or just angered. If it’s the former, it’s a non-issue. Not that they don’t have their disagreements, but there’s never any anger. When they don’t see eye to eye they talk it out, and if it’s a big thing (i.e. Solas destroying the world) they adapt to the acceptance they’re just not going to see eye to eye on it, and work with each other to find some kind of comfortable compromise that works for them. Basically, the health of their relationship to each other is more important than anger. But if you meant the latter, it’s absolutely Nox. Astra is forever level-headed, and Nox is a chaotic ball of feelings.

How do they go to sleep at night?: There’s a few positions they like to sleep in, but I would say more often than not Nox likes to sleep with his head on Astra’s chest, one arm draped across their torso while they rest with fingers in his hair and their other in his hand.

Who gets the most shoulder rubs?: Astra. Nox is all about Astra’s comfort. Also, he just likes to touch them, in case that wasn’t obvious yet.

What are there arguments/fights like? How often do they fight?: I accidentally already answered this, so go three questions back. But to recap, they really don’t fight. They compromise in a way that works for them, and then they adapt. Again, the health of their relationship to each other is more important than getting angry or having the ‘last word.’

Who is more likely to throw things in fights?: Not applicable? Unless they’re fighting other people. Battle couple. Because then the answer is both of them, whether that’s throwing magic balls of ouch or knives.

How do they make it up to each other/apologize after an argument? Still not really applicable, but when they have their conversations about compromise there is usually some affectionate kisses afterward.

Do they have nicknames for each other?: Yes, though they vary a little by verse. One that is consistent across all verses though is Nox calling Astra his sun.

Caring for each other while ill, how does the other muse go about it?: Astra is very calm and logical about it, as they are in all things. They brook no protests, either. If Nox is sick, he knows damn well whining isn’t going to get him anything, and he better keep his ass in bed to rest. As for Astra, they don’t...get sick. Like not really physically capable of getting sick. But I imagine if they did, Nox would panic because it’s so rare a thing, and would dote and care for them the whole way through.

Who’s more likely to be patching the others wound?: Astra patching up Nox. Outside of the fact that Astra is a healer, Nox is the weapons master and gets up close and personal in melee combat of all kinds. Skilled as he is, he’s not invincible. 

Muse that says ‘I told you so’ after they come home from the beach and the other muse is burnt to a crisp while whining how bad it hurts for not listening and putting on sunblock after the other muse repeatedly told them they’d get burnt?: Another one of those not really applicable questions, as it’s obviously really hard for Nox to burn and Astra basically self-heals. But I imagine if Astra did burn, Nox would never say I told you so even if he wanted to because he likes life.

Your otp has a newborn baby, who gets up in the middle of the night when he/she cries?: It’s as realistic to say both of them as it is to say they take turns because they have had so many children now that they’ve got a very streamlined system, and considering they’ve had so many sets of twins (and now a set of triplets), they’re used to needing two pairs of hands.

Your muse’s reaction to finding the other crying about something? And how do they make them feel better?: Nox is definitely the one crying because the man has a lot of feelings and he easily gets very emotional. The most comforting thing Astra does, and really all he needs, is for them to hold him. That’s it. Feeling their embrace and knowing he is safe is really all he needs.

What would they be like as parents?: Oh my god I could write a literal book lmao. They have 11 beautiful children and knowing them, they’re not going to stop there. They’re very good parents and have had the time to figure out how to work as a team. Astra is definitely the disciplinarian of the two, though, and Nox is the parent the kids go to when Astra said no about something (which never works because his default response is ‘did you ask your mother’). 

What would they have been like as childhood sweethearts? Obnoxious, probably. Not in that ‘have to show off our gooey romance to everyone’ type way you see in high school drama movies, but more just because they exist so peacefully with their feelings for and confidence in each other. They probably would make a lot of marriages look bad lmao. I don’t think they’d treat each other any differently than they do normally. But to be fair it’s really hard to picture either of them as children, so... Who initiates taking a bath together?: At this point in their relationship, there is no initiating, it just happens that way. Bathing alone? Are you kidding? Nonsense. Bathtime is together time. Who likes who playing with their hair?: I think I answered this earlier, but it’s another mutual thing. Astra is one of the very rare few who Nox lets touch/play with his hair, and he is very fond of when they scritch his scalp. Meanwhile, he enjoys helping Astra care for theirs and especially likes to braid it. The place they most likely accidentally fall asleep together?: At this point in their lives, and especially after 11 kids, they can pretty much fall asleep on command, anywhere. It doesn’t even have to be a horizontal surface. One of them provides the shoulder to lean on so the other can rest their head and take a short standing nap. They’re very... versatile with their sleeping arrangements. Though I will say that leaning on Astra, or otherwise in Astra’s arms, is the only time Nox puts his guard down enough to actually sleep sleep.