#i like them so much and i wanna draw them so badly. they’re silly

[mothmanwarble]

Does anyone know if there’s any concept art of the Warrior Librarians floating around on the internet? It doesn’t matter if it’s artwork done for Trap Team 3DS or simply any artwork of Pomfrey made for SuperChargers. I’d be happy with anything, really. I’ve seen these pieces of concept art of the Eternal Archives done for Trap Team 3DS, but nothing for the Warrior Librarians themselves.

[rainba]

Desperate Kairos ❤

I mentioned some of the kinks of my sillies in a previous ask, but I wanna write/expand on them just a little bit.~

For this one, I wanna focus on Kairos’ praise + worshiping kinks. ((Mostly praise.)) So... Same as always, Kairos being Kairos.

To be honest, this is kind of just me rambling lol

There are two versions here! First one is a fem darling, the second one has a male darling.

18+ NSFW, MDNI

Kairos would typically imagine himself being the one to do the worshipping, but he absolutely loves the idea of his love worshiping him, too. The thought of being praised for anything still sounds like such a foreign concept to him– so when you do it, he becomes instantly obsessed.

If you praise him once, he’ll beg you to do it some more, asking you to repeat yourself over and over just so the sentiment can settle in. And if you worship him during sex just once, he’ll do absolutely anything to have you do it again. He’ll get on his knees and plead with you, he’ll give you all of his money, draw you anything you’d like– whatever you want from him, he’ll give you it.

Just… Please, please, please, worship him again.

Let him sit on the edge of the bed with his cute cock out as you toy with him. He’ll wear whatever you want– thigh highs, cat ears, a bunny suit, literally anything. Kairos gently pets you as he begs you to praise him.

“I’m… I’m your good boy, right..? Y-you love me, right? Only me?”

Call him your master. Call him your owner. Call him an angel. Tell him he’s the only person in this world for you, and that nobody else can compare to him. Those words alone might be enough to make him cum on the spot.

“P-please, keep going,” he’ll pathetically whimper as he tries to guide your mouth to his throbbing cock, desperate for you to give it love and attention. If you tease him too much, he might grip the back of your head and force you to take his entire length at once. He’ll be apologizing while he does so, but the guilt doesn’t outweigh the carnal need to fuck your tight throat.

Part of him so badly desires for you to tell him just how much you love it. If you tell him something along the lines of, “your dick looks so tasty, so perfect,” he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for weeks after. And every time he thinks about it, he becomes incredibly hot and bothered.

Sucking on the tip and licking up and down his length will have him gripping the sheets and mewling. It just feels so, so good. He’ll beg you to kiss it as well, and he’ll also tell you to lick up the precum that’s leaking from his needy cock. Then he’d ask you if it tastes good.

And when you answer with a yes, his entire body will tense up as he stifles a high-pitched moan.

Kairos won’t make you do all the praising, though. He can’t help but praise and worship you as well.

“G-good girl, you’re… You’ll b-be a perfect wife! I… I love you s-so much!” 

When he’s desperate to make you feel good, he’s always quick to use his mouth rather than his hands. He just loves to taste you– it feels so personal, so loving. He absolutely loves eating you out, but there’s also something else he loves: sucking on your breasts.

The first time you let him suck on your tits, it’s like he gets addicted. They’re so soft in his hands, and so soft in his mouth. Kairos gets all hot and shaky as he sits on your lap and loves on your tits… It’s one of his deepest fantasies coming to life.

Kairos closes his eyes in bliss as he warmly sucks and licks them, occasionally leaving tiny love bites. He moans sweetly the entire time, all while grinding his cock against your thigh. If you ever want him to stop, you basically have to force him off of you. When you push his head away from your tits, he’ll immediately dive back down and start sucking on them again while mumbling the words "n-no, please, more."

The only times he pauses is when he wants to praise you.

“Th-they’re so beautiful,” he’ll mumble as he softly flicks one of your nipples with his wet tongue. “A-and they’re mine… All mine.”

Right before he’s about to cum, he’ll ask you permission to do so. 

When he genuinely wants to fuck you, though, he’ll become a reckless mess. Kairos will fervently push you into the bed and pin you down as he practically tears off your clothing. He loves all the foreplay, truly, he does– but sometimes he yearns for more. He can’t help but feel that he needs to be deep inside of your soaking wet pussy immediately.

Oh, and… Please, pretty please, praise him as he fucks you senselessly into the bed. When he’s desperate, his thrusts become messy, and his pace is inconsistent– he’s just doing what feels good at the moment- but he’s trying his best...! 

All he craves is to feel your inner walls squeezing his cock and milking it dry. He desperately needs to fill your cunt to the brim with his seed.

“So warm.. So t-tight… Ah…” He harshly bites down on his bottom lip. “Please, tell me you love this… P-please.” 

The more you praise him, the more erratic he becomes. His small hands will grip your shoulders as he ruts into you like crazy. He might wrap his hands around your neck and choke you instead– if you’ll let him.

“S-such… Such a perfect pussy… You’re so… So perfect.” Kairos leaves little kisses all over your chest as he keeps going.

His left hand will then reach down and lovingly rub sloppy circles around your clit. There’s nothing more he wants in the world than for you to both cum at the same time. It’d just be so romantic!

He’ll do anything to please you. He’ll do anything to be worthy of your praise.

Since he’s not that experienced, he might accidentally make you cum first– which makes him tear up, because he so badly wanted to cum in unison with you. So, if this happens, he might just end up overstimulating you until he climaxes himself.

But if he cums first..? God, he will be extremely embarrassed.

He mumbles a long line of apologies as he cums deep inside of you, panting heavily as he still tries to make you climax too.

If his hand isn’t enough, he’ll spread your legs apart and bury his face between your thighs, excitedly and sloppily eating you out. It doesn’t matter that his cum is dripping out of your pussy as he does so– in fact, he secretly likes it. He’ll try to push his cum back inside of you with his tongue as he looks up at you for encouragement.

And as a way to apologize, he’d make you cum twice, all while praising you. He’d also be thanking you for letting him fuck you.

But he’d also be begging you to forgive him.

 “Y-you’re so kind to me… Y-you’re like an angel, I… I don’t deserve you,” he slowly runs his tongue over your slit as he pushes two fingers inside of you, curling them and gauging your reactions the entire time. He’s determined to memorize all of the things that make you come undone.

And Kairos also loves watching you orgasm on his fingers– the sight of it drives him crazy. Plus, it gives a tiny boost to his ego.

For weeks and weeks after that, he’ll constantly find himself replaying lewd scenes of you in his head, sometimes even drawing it on paper. Then he won’t stop thinking about how he’s gonna make you cum even harder the next time he fucks you.

(Male Darling)

Kairos would typically imagine himself being the one to do the worshipping, but he absolutely loves the idea of his love worshiping him, too! The thought of being praised for anything still sounds like such a foreign concept to him– so when you do it, he becomes instantly obsessed.

If you praise him once, he’ll beg you to do it some more, asking you to repeat yourself over and over just so the sentiment can settle in. And if you worship him during sex just once, he’ll do absolutely anything to have you do it again. He’ll get on his knees and plead with you, he’ll give you all of his money, draw you anything you’d like– whatever you want from him, he’ll give you it.

Just… Please, please, please, worship him again.

Let him sit on the edge of the bed with his cute cock out as you toy with him. He’ll wear whatever you want– thigh highs, cat ears, a bunny suit, literally anything. Kairos gently pets your hair as he begs you to praise him.

“I’m… I’m your good boy, right..? Y-you love me, right?”

Call him your master. Call him your owner. Call him an angel. Tell him he’s the only person in this world for you, and that nobody else can compare to him. Those words alone might be enough to make him cum on the spot.

“P-please, keep going,” he’ll pathetically whimper as he tries to guide your mouth to his throbbing cock, desperate for you to give it love and attention. If you tease him too much, he might grip the back of your head and force you to take his entire length at once. He’ll be apologizing while he does so, but the guilt doesn’t outweigh the carnal need to fuck your tight throat.

Part of him so badly desires for you to tell him just how much you love it. If you tell him something along the lines of, “your dick looks so tasty, so perfect,” he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for weeks after. And every time he thinks about it, he becomes incredibly hot and bothered.

Sucking on the tip and licking up and down his length will have him gripping the sheets and mewling. It just feels so, so good. He’ll beg you to kiss it as well, and he’ll also tell you to lick up the precum that’s leaking from his needy cock. Then he’d ask you if it tastes good.

And when you answer with a yes, his entire body will tense up as he stifles a high-pitched moan.

Kairos won’t make you do all the praising, though. He can’t help but praise and worship you as well.

“G-good boy, you’re… You'll be s-such a perfect husband! I… I love you s-so much!” 

When he’s desperate to make you feel good, he’s always quick to use his mouth rather than his hands. He just loves to taste you– it feels so personal, so loving. He absolutely loves sucking you off. The feeling of your cock invading his small mouth is one of the best feelings ever to him. And when you choke him with it? It makes him so fucking hard. But there’s also something else he loves: sucking on your nipples and leaving marks all over your body.

The first time you let him suck on your chest, it’s like he gets addicted. Every time he leaves a small mark on your skin, it feels like he’s marking his territory. He’s letting the entire world know that you belong to him.

Kairos closes his eyes in bliss as he warmly sucks and licks your chest, occasionally leaving tiny love bites and large hickeys. He moans and whimpers the entire time, all while rubbing his cock against your thigh. If you ever want him to stop, you basically have to force him off of you. When you push his head away from your body, he’ll immediately dive back down and start sucking on your skin again while mumbling the words, “n-no, please, more. I… You look so p-perfect, covered in marks.”

The only times he pauses is when he wants to praise you.

“You’re so perfect,” he’ll mumble as he softly flicks one of your nipples with his tongue. “A-and you’re mine… All mine.”

Right before he’s about to cum, he’ll ask you permission to do so. 

When he genuinely wants to fuck you, though, he’ll be a reckless mess. Kairos will fervently push you into the bed and pin you down as he practically tears off your clothing. He loves all the foreplay, truly, he does– but he craves more. He can’t help but feel that he needs to be deep inside of your tight ass immediately.

Oh, and… Please, pretty please, praise him as he fucks you senselessly into the bed. When he’s desperate, his thrusts become messy and his pace is inconsistent– he’s just doing what feels good at the moment. But he’s trying his best...! 

All he yearns for is to feel your inner walls squeezing his cock. He desperately needs to fill your hole to the brim with his seed.

“So warm.. So t-tight… Ah…” He harshly bites down on his bottom lip. “Please, tell me you love this… P-please.” 

The more you praise him, the more erratic he becomes. His small hands will grip your shoulders as he ruts into you like crazy. He might wrap his hands around your neck and choke you instead– if you’ll let him.

“S-such… Such a perfect body… You’re so… So perfect.” Kairos leaves little kisses all over your sweaty skin as he keeps going.

His left hand will then reach down and sloppily stroke your cock, occasionally squeezing and giving extra attention to the tip. There’s nothing more he wants in the world than for you to both cum at the same time. It’d just be so romantic!

He’ll do anything to please you. He’ll do anything to be worthy of your praise.

Since he’s not that experienced, he might accidentally make you cum first– which makes him tear up, because he so badly wanted to cum in unison with you. So, if this happens, he might just end up overstimulating you until he climaxes himself.

But if he cums first...? God, he will be extremely embarrassed.

He mumbles a long line of apologies as he cums deep inside of you, panting heavily as he still tries to make you climax too.

If his hand isn’t enough, he’ll simply flip you onto your back and ease your cock into his ass, happily riding you until you cum. He tells you to just relax as he bounces up and down, a look of pure ecstasy plastered on his face.

And as a way to apologize, he’d make you cum twice, all while praising you. He’d also be thanking you for letting him fuck you.

But he’d also be begging you to forgive him.

 “Y-you’re so kind to me… Y-you’re like an angel, I… I don’t deserve you,” he tightens around your cock as he tries to play with your nipples, pinching and rubbing them between his fingers. He’s determined to memorize all of the things that make you come undone.

One of his favorite things in the world is the feeling of your hot cum filling him up. It’s borderline addicting. So, please– use him all you like. He’ll worship you even more if you fuck him until he can’t move.

For weeks and weeks after that, he’ll constantly find himself replaying lewd scenes of you in his head, sometimes even drawing it on paper. Then he won’t stop thinking about how he’s gonna make you cum even harder the next time he fucks you.

[the-lonelyshepherd]

thoughts on mistynat (not necessarily as a ship but im mainly still thinking about how misty clearly believes herself to be a good friend) in the antler queen scene where misty fucking bows and looks up at nat with reverence after she pretty much orchestrated the death of javi

oh mistynat is SUCH an interesting dynamic. i really wanna pay attention to them more in the future like i don’t ship it but they’re so fucking interesting just as a character pair.

i really liked their silly back and forth in the adult timeline but if we’re talking teen specific

i think something interesting about the two of them is that they’re both outcasts socially - but nat is regarded as a “cool” (using that lightly) outcast while misty is just. everyone thinks she’s fucking weird.

so i think it’s definitely some of the draw to nat from misty’s pov - how can someone who’s also not “cool” garner this kind of respect from the others? what’s so different about nat from misty that she eventually has a sort of leadership position over the others? misty can try to be needed - breaking the black box, all that possessive controlling shit with ben, positioning herself as the medic because she took babysitting classes. but it’s never enough for her to be truly respected no matter how hard she tries.

then you have nat - also an outcast, but all she has to do is hunt and immediately she gets a a huge boost in respect from the others (again i say this lightly - we’re comparing to MISTY). then the peak - lottie declaring nat the new leader. i think the pure like reverence in misty’s gaze was like, pure admiration and honestly? partially hope that someone (who misty views as like her) could rise in the ranks at get that power and respect that misty craves so badly.

overall i think a huge part of it is misty’s desire to be respected and needed - something nat, who also wasn’t in the best social situation, managed to get without even really trying. misty has been seen literally using other people’s words to get this kind of power (ex saying lottie wanted them to do the whole thing that ended up w javis death) but with nat she sees someone who doesn’t have to do that and she’s very drawn to it.

overall i don’t like. i haven’t thought about them that much or at least as much as other characters but that’s really just bc there’s so many interesting dynamics to explore that it’s hard to hit them all. mistynat is so so interesting though i might write more on them this is just off the top of my head :p

[naffeclipse]

I’m literally shaking after reading chapter 18, I’m not kidding! All of it shook me to the core!

I have the most intense shivers and goosebumps rn I swear!!

Get ready for more of me reacting to some of my most favorite bits from the fic~ (there are WAY more, but this would be way too long and messy if I included all of them :'p)

“The detector was right all along; there is a cryptid right on top of me.”

Moon stares at you before your words bounce back and set your face on fire.

“I mean, here!” you start, scrambling, “close in proximity—”

Oh Y/N, I love your slipups almost as much as the boys do X3

“Oh,” you breathe. “It’s not loaded.”

A beat passes in the quiet cricket song of the night.

“We know.” He doesn’t sound as mischievous as before.

It would seem you’re not the only one who’s still a bit jumpy.

They’re both so jumpy oh nooooo!!!! Sweeties!!!! :’0

The LORE!!! I still don’t know what the name Paahlott might mean, but gosh I looooove the concept of her! It’s so cool how OLD all the demons are! *Looking back at my "cave art" piece and getting a strong urge to make more stuff like it*

You know how badly I wanna draw the demon glamrocks don’t you X3 (just gotta get the time!!!)

“Can I see you?” you ask carefully. The humming against your spine stops. “I want to get an accurate depiction of you, if that’s okay?”

I LOVE how Y/N asks this, hesitating at first, but so polite and carefully!! AND THEY WANT TO DRAW THEM MORE ACCURATELY!!! SAME Y/N, SAME! XD

"Light,” they grumble.

“You’re being so freaky,” you accuse but lower the flashlight.

“Can’t help it.”

They’re so silly I love them! I’m so normal about the fact that they’re so mysterious, animal and freaky while in their true form but also in general after the reveal! Even knowing that Y/N likes it when they use their demonic powers! X3

They’re so cute omg! The way they sit in the corner, I can so easily visualize them sitting there in the low light. and how they turn away, scared, concerned and so deflated after the denied kiss!

OH MY GOD THE DENIED KISS!!!! NAFF ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!! I LOVED THAT SCENE SOOOOO MUCH, YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW!!!!! THEY WERE SO EAGER FOR THAT KISS!!!! THE HUNGER IN THEIR FACE?!?! HELLOOOOO!!!!!!

Oh lord poor Y/N having to explain themselves with that deep blush on their face hvbasdhvsc

"Oh.” They pull back. Your hand falls through the empty space. The towering, imposing presence of their being turns icy cold. “We shouldn’t have—that wasn’t—we’re sorry.”

Meep live reaction: *Screaming into a pillow*

There it is! They’re afraid that Y/N is scared of them when they’re actually more nervous and excited than scared! It’s starting!!!

YEEEEES GRAB THEM BY THE HORNS!!! >:D

And the chest nuzzles to reassure them oh my lord!!!

“We were a bit quick, hm?” OH YES YOU WERE JKFGHADFJKGAHDFKJ

And then the little tongue flick! WILL YOU PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELVES FOR ONE SECOND BOYS XD

“Did you just lick me?”

“We enjoy how you taste.”

BOYS!!!! Gosh I love em sdjgabfd

Ok ok, calming down from that. Man I loved that!

I love the description of Monty! HE EATS JUST BONES?!? WHAT A BADASS!!!!! Crunch crunch~

“And he has impressive claws,” you note, musing.

Moon makes a low sound, almost a scoff.

“He’ll show you those. You never have to ask.” Moon lifts a hand, shadowed by a phantom limb, and the fingers wave and clench in exaggerated flair and spookiness. In a quiet but faux-bellowing voice, Moon growls, “Look at my claws, ohhh.”

JSHAKDLFGLDFHJGDFJH I COULD VISUALIZE AND HEAR THIS SO EASILY!!

"We were too hasty.”

“We were eager but they asked for time. We can give it.”

The vivid vision of your shocked expression and hand covering their teeth plays through them. Another twitch and cringe plague their vessel.

Aaaaw boys,, please don’t worry about it too much :’) *pats them on the back*

The red sand from the desert really doesn’t wanna leave Y/N alone huh… keeps sticking to everything...

Sun pulls the curtains open with a gentle whoosh. Amber beams shoot into the room, filling it with a squint-worthy brightness. You look up to Sun as he turns back, silhouetted in the window. Before you can comment on how nice he looks, the T.V. abruptly blares out.

I’M SO MAD Y/N NEVER GOT TO TELL HIM HOW NICE HE LOOKED!!!! D’:

There’s the picture! It has come back to haunt us! Oh they knew for a long time about our little demon friend,,

Halfway through the fight with the hunters I’m crying with my face in my hands! I know they’ll be fine! But I’m soooo scared for them! Having any of them get hurt makes my soul weep and ache! Moon! his face!!! NOOOO!!! The goo dripping like blood aaaAAAA!!!

I LOVE how Moon reacted to the exorcism and how quickly it affected him, immediately turning him into a writhing feral beast. And then how quickly Y/N comes to protect him aaaaAA MY HEART!!

“Naughty,” Moon growls so harshly, you and Rowe flinch in unison.

There he is!! >:D

You cry out a warning as a silver bolt flies for Moon’s faceplate. He falls back with a mighty tear of the fabric. You stare in shock, heart in your throat, to find the bolt pinning his beloved hat to the wall of the motel.

NOOOO NOT HIS HAT!!! I wish you could have heard my loud cry as I read that fjkghdfkjg

Rip Singh knee, ouch..

In one desperate motion, you find her shoulders and shove her towards the motel wall, hard. A sharp crack echoes. Her eyes widen before she slumps. She drops to the ground, halfway on top of you.

Oh no.

I’m in awe at Y/N’s strength, and man, this moment left me speechless.

You throw yourself into his arms and he catches you, spinning around once. His grip is deathly tight.

Meep live reaction: *Breathing heavily with tears in my eyes* They’re ok!!!

“Do you want us to stay?” he rasps, so soft and quiet.

Singh’s entire expression morphs into shock, staring in disbelief.

“Yes,” you bump your forehead against his, feeling the cool sensation of demonic goo, and whisper again, “Let’s go, sweetie.”

Pale eyes flash with great fondness.

CRIES!! CRIES SO HARD!!!

That was so good! SO SOOO GOOD!!!! I cannot believe we’re already halfway through the final episode!! HOW!!?

I know I use the word love many MANY times. Please understand that I mean it every single time!

Naff, thank you so much once more for yet another wonderful chapter! I am awestruck ❤️💖💕❤️💖❤️❤️💕💕❤️💖💕❤️

AHHH MEEP I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE IT!!! EEEE

Ahahhaa, yesss, now that Y/N knows, all those flirts aren't gonna sail over their head anymore, including their own slip-ups hehe

I wanted a moment of Y/N reassuring the boys. They are a cryptid hunter, after all, but the cryptid boys are safe, and that's what matters. ♥

Ahhhhh, Paahlott! She is powerful, even among demonic cryptids. She's a special one. AHHH, Meep! I'd die to see a lineup of glamrock demonic cryptids from you ;-;

I'm really glad you enjoy Y/N wanting to better capture the boys in their notes! Their first impression wasn't so great pffft

YES! Y/N is used to their dear friend and is well aware of cryptid antics, but having both of those loves together in one? Mind-blowing! But Y/N does love it hehe

ALSDFJASDF YEAH THE DENIED KISS! To be fair, this is Eclipse's first romantic relationship, so there's a learning curve, but they're learning and so is Y/N. It's just a matter of time and adjusting ♥ (but they still had to get a lick in, just a little taste alsdjfasldfas

Okay, I loved writing that scene of the book explaining Monty and Moon making fun of him, like, they're so much like siblings it's painful alsdjflasfdj I'm really happy you like that part, ahhh!

Exorcism is an excruciating process for a demonic cryptid. Moon reacting like that was him restraining himself, due to the vow, but man, if this was before.... he would have done so much damage for that.

Ahhhh, Meep! Thank you so much, babe! I'm melting onto the floor, you're so sweet and I love reading your reactions to the chapter every time ♥ ♥ ♥

[arabriddler]

I love seeing you post snippets of your writing as I go. I took a break from writing while I'm on holiday but now I'm getting back into it but it's slow going. You write so fast, it's incredible! Is there anything you've been really thinking about with your writing?

I started deciding I wanted stronger thesis statements for the writing so if I ever get lost I can refer to those if I wanna find a new direction. Are there any strong themes/ideas you connect to Penguin and the Peacock?

💖💖💖thanks :3

oh i hope the holiday was nice! Also oh I don’t think I write fast I’ve been writing it for a while while unemployed then finished up the last few chapters on those first months of employment where I just sat doing nothing lol and needed to pass the time. So now all I do is edit it on the weekends. heck wait. I think I started writing it somewhere around April last year but maybe longer than that since it’s based on my Batman AU which I’ve been building for longer. Didn’t even consider writing it down actually thought it’ll be too much to write it down but did want to write stories based on it now look where we are.

with the penguin and the peacock I kind of wanted to write riddlebird but also figure out how to get them from well, my versions of riddler and penguin, to the relationship I draw in my drawings? How to get them there? So tried to tackle some points, but well, that’s the main thing but I also wanted to tackle some themes I felt strongly about,

like hey this is what depression is like. Yeah it’s a mess. Yes it doesn’t make sense most of the time. moreover hmm, relationships with, insanely depressed people. Like Oswald’s with his mother. Oswald and Edward’s etc etc. and that’s just on Oswald’s side.

from Edward’s it was, ironically more about love. What does love mean? How do you go about wanting love and attention? When does love become devotion? And when does it become comfort? And when does it become poison?

there’s also the aspect of, taking and giving in relationships. You give and take. But that giving and taking comes from. Parts of your own self. It’s like cutting up your own flesh, no? How do you go about that?

a lot of the times I think I have questions I don’t know the answer to so, as if you’re playing the sims, I put them there and I give them the question and I see how they try to answer them. had a friend ask me how I do it and this was my answer:

IIdk . Partway being silly and enjoying and part ways it spills from a real place. Conflicts and questions I couldn’t figure out the answer to so I put it there

Ed and Oswald are fascinating together because well, Ed wants to be loved so badly he could die for it. Oswald wants something to care for or he’d go insane. It should be easy, right? It should click in place automatically, but it doesn’t because they’re not normal about these needs.

more-so, birds as a central theme is important because Oswald is a bird guy no? But an accidental theme I guess is a more religious one, idk how that came to be, actually I do, I thought well, connecting the Falcone’s with a strong religious upbringing can be interesting, wanted to write the scene where Falcone quoted the Bible to Oswald, and it clicked well, but then Oswald is the kind of guy who mimics people especially when he wants to hurt them, so he takes on for a bit, but it’s not a central theme I don’t think it’s just recurring.

Hope this helped?

[cold-neon-ocean]

Do you have any spicy headcanons about Baatar /Baavira that you’re willing to share? 😏

OH BOY, DO I EVER~

It's probably safe to say that almost all my thoughts regarding them are laced with spice in some fashion. And the bulk of the fic writing that I do for them lol but I'd be delighted to share some of my spicy thoughts regarding them~

As always do keep in mind that my headcanons are very much geared towards my very specific AU versions of them that I've built up over the last few years, however I do think they could apply to the canon as well in some regards.. maybe?? Idk lolol but I think about these two A LOT and I know that my interpretation of them can be pretty divergent from the popular fanon ideas but this is just how they are to me in my silly mind akdjfsf

Okay so starting out, it's not a secret that my version of Baatar is pretty stacked~ (whenever I’m drawing him on twitch my chat is always lamenting how badly they wanna grab his chest and honestly I’m glad the energy translates because I also draw him with that express thought in my head). I just love beefy nerds and feel like Baatar is well suited for it. I like joking that once he left home he just took all his pent up anger to the gym but that’s honestly pretty accurate -lol. It’s hard being a non-bender in a bender’s world, especially in any sort of leadership position so you have to gain any sort of edge you can. And said gains don’t go unnoticed. He and Kuvira have always been very touchy (and I’ll get back to that), and Kuvira definitely starts catching on to the fact that he kind of(aka ‘really’) enjoys when she pays his chest “extra” attention~ If you recall that one art piece I did of Kuvira slipping her hand into Baatar's uniform, which folks ingeniously called a "regular tiddy quality check", she tends to do stuff like that a lot and he tries not to show it, but it's fairly obvious that he actually likes it. Baatar is also not really used to being regarded in most any sense let alone as "impressive" in any fashion and Kuvira knows he feels pretty good about it in that sense as well. Plus when your man is built like a whole refrigerator, why wouldn't you give him a squeeze every now and then~

So I said these two are “touchy”, and yes they are. It’s become something of a reflexive affirmation between them. Having grown up in a very isolated “it’s us against the world” mindset, they’ve developed a rather strong codependency, one of the main languages for is touch. And that can be varying forms of touch but they’re a lot of the time inherently spicy~ They get especially handsy after extended periods of time spent apart, or in Kuvira's case when she can be in a bit of a mood- usually trying to grab Baatar's attention in a faux "I'm upset with you for not paying attention to me" sort of way. And Baatar often reciprocates in a playful "oh I'm sorry, please forgive me" response. But Baatar can get rather pouty when things don't go his way- not just specifically with her but just in general, and Kuvira will definitely rub up on him like a cat like "uh oh, why are we upset~?" and it'll be a cold day on the surface of the sun before either one of them aren't won over by that.

They were always stowing away when they could back in Zaofu. Kuvira loves to just be generally disruptive to get Baatar's attention since she loves to fluster him, and as this was set more during his phase of being closed in, and trying more to stay out of the way than anything by else, it wasn't all that difficult. Baatar really hadn't yet built up the nerve to think about going against his mother, and he definitely used to have that mindset of "no we can't have sex in my family's house that would be weird", which Kuvira interpreted as "but anywhere else is fine" and so she grabbed hold of that proverbial "anywhere else" and ran with it. She'd interrupt whatever he was doing at any given time to drag him off somewhere when they could slip away unnoticed. Their relationship was probably the worst kept secret in the city. They never got caught but it was fairly obvious what was going on between them. And eventually they moved into his room in the house (aka Kuvira was probably climbing in through his window and Baatar was just like "you know what, sure this is fine)

I (clearly) like imagining Kuvira as the more forward between the two. Or at least most of the time she's the first to instigate. Baatar grew from just getting dragged along to expectantly waiting for her to come to him as he's generally happy to let her set the pace for things. She had pretty much done so their entire relationship and she had a way of going about it in the most direct manner possible. Girl would come right out of her mouth with no warning like "You should just kiss me already" or when he's trying to work and she's bored so she just goes "hey, can I suck you off?" like she has the tact of a baseball bat to a window. But overtime he just got used to it. He started getting a little rush out of the rebellion of sneaking off with her, or in the times where they were left alone together in his fathers lab. I've also always headcanoned that Kuvira was actually the one to propose to him because she was tired of waiting for him to ask her lol. Baatar needs everything to be perfect when it comes to her but she literally couldn't care less. However Baatar can take the reigns at times. After his tether was finally cut from Zaofu he started building up some much needed self confidence and wherewithal. Finally figuring himself out as a person. Said self discoveries came in many forms, one of which being he can be rather insatiable and for those special occasions he gains a particular fervor where you just have to hold on for dear life and ride it out. Kuvira absolutely uses those opportunities to address him with "yes, sir" and he definitely feels some type of way about it.

Power play between the two of them is conducted in a specific manner, and Kuvira has always been particular about regarding Baatar as equal to herself, both in their status within the empire and as a person in general. It's something Baatar can be rather sensitive too, the idea of being seen as lesser than, and even fictitiously Kuvira just doesn't like playing around with that sort of thing. They do however enjoy the instances of one submitting entirely to the other to be ravished as they'd please. Where one's just laid back and taking the full force of the other in whatever manner they'd like. In a worshipy sort of way but it goes back and forth much more evenly.

Kuvira bless her is POSSESSIVE as hell. Yes she likes showing her man off but when people stare there is a threshold that shouldn't be crossed, and even Kuvira doesn't really know where that line is, sometimes she'll just be like "okay yes you can look at him- but not too much." And Baatar finds it kind of hilarious. She has a real jealousy streak on her and she's never even slightly subtle about it. Those are the instances where Baatar will go "well let me remind you how much I love you~" and- which he's well aware of, sometimes Kuvira likes to play up being upset just so he'll do that and put in the extra effort to make it up to her.

On the sillier side (because yes these two are silly!) During the Earth Empire campaign they've 100% fallen deadass asleep mid fuck on the train or something lolol like cock in mouth, cunt on face, and they are PASSED OUT LMAOOO

Kind of tying into the previous bullet, but Baatar can sleep through ANYTHING. Like he heard nothing when the Red Lotus attacked Zaofu the man was ASLEEP!!!! Like he sleeps like he's practicing for the coffin, so when Kuvira wants to do the cute "teehee waking my man up with a blowjob" routine, she has to put her lungs into fucking overdrive because she basically has to revive him from the dead for him to wake up SOBS

I filled out that 'Meet My OTP' thing with the two of them, and some of the main kinks for each of them I put- Baatar: breeding talk, medical talk/play (I hc him being very interested in the development of medical practice and technology because he is just very done with the prayer circles and acupuncture back in Zaofu), he's big on face fucking both giving and receiving, and also some cuddly comfy cock warming <3.

For Kuvira I put exhibitionism, she loves to Show Off, power play in varying ways- like I said she's particular about it particularly she actually likes giving up control with him because in every other aspect of life especially with the empire she always got people needing to be ordered around to get things done and she has to be the one to plan everything out so it's nice to just lay back and let someone else be in charge, especially since Baatar knows her inside and out to the degree he does. And lastly fucking with their clothes on, particularly their uniforms really does something for her. Baatar is so particular about how he dresses and presents himself that Kuv loves to rile him up by grinding on the pantleg of his expensive-ass suits or pulling threads with her teeth.

This got really long alkdsdfsd it's honestly been in my drafts a while and I would come back ever so often to add more as they came to me LMAO I could probably say a lot more on this topic because I think about it.. a lot and I love them very much ;;;;

[seiyasabi]

Momma’s Boy

(This is a Yandere Severus Snape x Hufflepuff! Female Reader story :)) Sorry if this is too OOC!

TW: Bullying!, unhealthy feelings!, manipulation!, Mommy kink!, face sitting!, creampie!, Femdom!, consensual sex!, etc..

Please proceed with caution!)

A wide hand smacks his books from his hands, casting everything onto the cobblestone floor. A soft sigh leaves the blach haired man’s mouth, as he slowly looks up from his belongings, to see a smirking Sirius Black. 

“Watch where you’re going, Snape-boy,” The four males let out ugly laughs, eyes filled with mockery. Severus says nothing, moving to pick up his things, only to be stopped by James. 

“Don’t think that we’ll let you off the hook that easily,” The brunet’s glasses gleam with a dark delight, making the bullied boy gulp in fear, “We’ve seen you creep around that cute hufflepuff- what was her name again?” He pretends to think, allowing a grinning Peter to take over. 

“Yeah, you’ve been creeping around that cutie, (Your Name), for far too long. We’ve noticed you following her like a kicked puppy,” Remus shoves Severus into the wall, causing the 6’1 (1.85 m) man to hit it harshly. 

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you telling her lies about us,” Confusion is clear on the tall man’s face, causing all four of them to scoff, “She refuses to hang out with us, because she claims we harass you! That’s not true, is it, Snape-boy?” 

“I-well, uhm-”

“I-well, uhm,” James mocks, a knowing grin on his devilish features, “Don’t be nervous, we won’t hurt you.”

“Well, you lot haven’t been too kind to me these past few years,” More scoffs echo off the cobblestone walls, making the tall man feel small. 

“That’s not true, and you know it. We’ve been joking around with you, because we’re friends, aren’t we?” Remus reassures condescendingly, “Plus, friends tell friends when they’re wrong. You’re wrong for pursuing (Your Name), because Remus, here,” He slaps the dirty blond man on the back good-naturedly, “Liked her first. So, having you around, writing in your creepy notebooks about her, will no longer be appreciated.” 

An angry flush covers Snape’s pale cheeks, “It-it’s not like that! (Your Name) is my friend, please don’t make me-”

“Make you? We never make you do anything. We’re just suggesting you leave her alone, unless you want us to take matters into our own hands.” 

Sweat beads on the brow of the black haired man, as he tried to look around for anyone willing to help. No one besides the five of them are in the hall. 

“No,” The four raise a collective eyebrow at his disobedience, “No, I won’t stop being friends with (Your Name). I don’t care what you do to me.”

“That’s sweet, really, but I’m going to have to change your mind,” Remus snarls, his hands balling into fists. In a swift motion, the dirty blond man starts to punch at Severus’ face and chest. The tall man doesn’t have time to put his hands up, getting wailed in the head and torso multiple times. 

The blond’s friends jump in as well, quickly bringing their victim to the floor. Their kicks and hits are rapid paced, disorienting him relatively quickly. He curls into the fetus position, trying to protect his head, luckily stopping their punches. 

His assault continues for a few moments more, before he’s dragged to his feet, and held against the wall by the collar of his shirt, “Are you going to leave her alone now?” 

Snape shakes his head, blood dripping down his face, entire body aching, “No, I won’t. I let you lot walk all over me for far too long. We’re in our last year, why are you acting as if we’re first years?” 

Remus tightens his grip around his collar, teeth bared like an animal, “That’s the wrong answer.”

The blond raises a fist to punch him once more, only to be stopped by a familiar voice. 

“What are you doing?” Your concerned voice rings through the hall, along with your running footsteps. Hurrying up to the group of boys, you start to shove at Remus, trying to break his hold on your close friend (crush), “Let him go! Are you crazy?” 

Your friends are seen down the hall, looking at you in both surprise and slight disdain, “(Your Name), stay out of their business. Once they settle it, everything will be fine-”

“You can’t honestly think that I’ll let them hurt Severus! He’s our friend, and-”

“Stop standing up for him, he’s a total creep. The Marauders are doing you a favour-” You block out what your friends are saying, continuing to push at the blond’s hands. 

“Stop it, Remus! Just leave him alone!” He quickly pulls away, causing you to sigh in relief, only for you to be the one pinned against the wall. Your friend is being held by the blond’s lackeys, holding him back from helping you. Your other friends watch on in horror.

“Why must you always get in my way, Love? I’m trying to teach him a lesson,” You wrinkle your nose in disgust, trying to wriggle out of his grip. 

“Don’t call me that. Just leave Severus and I alone. I understand that you have taken a liking towards me, but that doesn’t excuse your horrid behaviour. If anything, it makes me dislike you! You’re nasty, big headed, crude, and mean for virtually no reason! I don’t understand why you and your friends act this way-”

“He doesn’t deserve your affection!” He blurts out without thinking, his grip on your wrists tightening, “He hangs around you like a dark shadow, he makes everyone around him uncomfortable-”

“I think he’s cute,” You snap out uncharacteristically, “In fact, him following me around is harmless; you following me around, on the other hand, is very harmful. People are afraid to talk to me because of you, and he’s one of the only people who stayed being my friend. I don’t want to hear you talk badly about him, when he has made my life better than it was before.”

Remus releases you after a long moment of silence, a hurt look on his handsome features, “Fine. Stay with the freak if you want to, just don’t come crying to me-”

“I won’t. I won’t seek you out, ever,” The blond motions towards his friends, prompting them to release your friend. You hurry to the dark haired man, cupping his face with soft hands, “Are you alright, Severus? They didn’t hurt you too badly did they?” His lip trembles, signaling oncoming tears, prompting you to turn towards your friends and wave off their concern, “It’s alright, you guys go to class, I’ll take him to the nurse.”

They stalked off, Remus constantly looking back at you. Unfortunately for him, all of your attention is on a certain tall man. 

“Come along, Sev, let’s go to the nurse,” He shakes his head as he sobs uncontrollably, “No? Well, I can’t let you stay battered… Do you want to go to my dormitory? I’ll heal you there,” He nods, allowing you to half-drag-half-pull him towards the Hufflepuff dorm. You’d picked up his things and set them in your satchel, before heading off. Many cast the Slytherin man questioning looks, but quickly realised who was helping him. You’re known as one of the kindest souls at Hogwarts, so it’s not too unlike you to help the freaks of the school. 

Once in your room, you help him sit on your full size mattress. You share the room with only one other girl, leaving two empty beds between the both of you. Luckily, she’s out of the room, most likely at her boyfriend’s dorm room. 

Sitting beside him, you quickly pull out your wand, “This might feel a bit weird, but I promise I’m helping,” You murmur a healing spell to yourself, watching as his skin becomes smooth and even toned once more, “There we go! Good as-oh no, why are you crying again? Did it hurt?” 

Hearing your distraught voice, he tries to comfort you whilst bawling his eyes out, “Nu-no, no, you du-did nothing wu-wrong,” He throws his arms around you, bringing you into a tight hug, “It-it’s just… You treat me so well, and-and I love you so much-” He cuts himself off to hide his face in your neck. Oh no, he just accidentally confessed!

You giggle to yourself at his shy behaviour, and run a hand through his messy hair, “It’s because I love you too, silly,” When you say that, Severus practically feels his soul leave his body. His Darling loves him?

“You-you love me too?” Nodding against him, you cuddle him sweetly. You rub his back reassuringly, rocking him slightly. 

“Yep! I’ve liked you for the past few years, but I never had the courage to confess,” He raises his head, looking at you with watery eyes. 

“Really?” When you nod, he can’t help himself, “Can I- Can I please have a kiss?” 

“Of course!” You lean forward, giving him a sweet peck. Severus practically creams his pants at the feeling of your lips on his. Seeing his bright red face, you frown a bit, moving his hair out of his face, “Are you alright? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?” 

“No! No, it was nice,” A dreamy smile crosses his handsome features, as he leans in again, “Can I please have another one?” Smiling, you nod, smooching him softly once more. 

This, in turn, turns into a whole makeout session. You slide onto his lap, making it easier for you to reach his mouth. Your new seating arrangements allow you to feel his hard cock under your ass, a small smile quirking its way onto your lips, “Are you excited, Sevvy?” You hear a small whimper in response, causing you to giggle, “Do you want me to help you?”

“Please?” Instead of responding, you start to grind against his clothed cock. Your panty clad cunny is directly against his fly, your skirt just barely covering your ass. Grabbing his hands, you place them on your hips, their massive size making you feel secure. Severus whines at your grinding movement, hips bucking into your own. To silence him, you give him an open mouthed kiss, your tongue dominating his own. 

Drawing away from his mouth, there’s a long string of saliva connecting you both together. Using a manicured finger, you break it, and bring it to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, licking your shared spit off seductively, “Do you want me to fuck you, Sevvy? Wanna be inside of me?” 

“Yes! Yes, please!” You run a hand over his clothing clad chest, kissing him on the cheek. 

“Okay, Baby. Do you want me to suck your cock? Or do you wanna eat me out?” His hands grip at the fat of your hips, drool practically dripping from his gaping mouth. 

“Let me eat you, please,” Snape begs, bucking slightly into you. You cup his face with both hands and grin, pinching his cheeks teasingly. 

“Okie dokie, Sevvy. Lay back for me,” He drops back like a corpse, flopping haphazardly on your, surprisingly comfortable, mattress. Unzipping your uniform skirt, you slide it down your legs, tossing it on the other side of your bed. Your cute boyfriend gasps at the sight of your thong, never seeing one before. Chuckling at his shocked reaction, you quickly strip yourself of your blazer and dress shirt, exposing your lace bralette, “Do you like what you see?” 

His head practically snaps off his neck with how fast he nods, “You look so… so beautiful, (Your Name). I feel so lucky to see you this way,” A dark blush coats your (skin colour) cheeks, as you look away a bit shyly. 

“Thank you. Will you let me see you undressed?” He squeaks out a ‘yes,’ prompting you to practically rip off his slacks, dress shirt, and blazer. Only in his drawers, your heart jumps into your throat. His broad shoulder and lightly muscled abdomen look wonderfully full, and the very apparent bulge in his boxers make you lick your lips hungrily, “Are you ready to eat my pussy, Sev?”

“Yes, please sit on my face,” You gawk at his out-of-character words, but do as he asks. Slipping your panties off, you scoot forward, placing your bare cunny on his awaiting maw. He helps you settle on him by wrapping his arms around your (Size) thighs, relishing the feeling of your fat being squished between his forearm and bicep. 

Because he wrapped his arms over your legs, he is able to part your pussy lips, giving him easy access to your throbbing core. He gives an experimental lick to your slit, making your legs tremble. Now knowing that he’s doing something right, he dives in like  a man starved. His teeth lightly nip at your engorged clit, all whilst his tongue dips into your dripping hole. A squeal leaves your lips, signaling the pleasure you’re currently feeling. 

Gripping his head by his hair, you throw your head back in pleasure, “Ye-yes! You’re doing so well for me!” He keens at your praise, increasing the speed of his ministrations. Though you can tell that he’s a virgin, he’s exceeding your expectations by a long shot. Lightly grinding against his face, more moans and whimpers leave your throat, your entire body becoming rigid as your orgasm approaches. With one last well placed suck, you’re cumming into his open mouth. Your juices run down his chin and splash against his cheekbones, causing Snape’s heart to practically beat out of his chest. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Moving off of his face, you pat him on the head affectionately, “Did I do good?” He wipes some of your juices off of his mug, before slurping them down. 

“You were amazing, Sevvy. Have you done this before?” He shakes his head no, making you coo softly, “You’re a natural! Such a good boy.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” It’s like his entire body took a screenshot, with how still he became. He must have thought you’d be disgusted… but you aren’t. Instead, a small moan leaves your lips, before you bring him up into a hug. 

“My Baby Boy likes calling me Mommy? You’re so adorable,” You reach down to his cock, pulling him out with a tender touch. His tip is a dark pink, his precum dripping down his thick length. A large vein runs up the underside of his circumcised prick, and you can’t wait to sit on it, “Is it ok for Mommy to sit on your pretty cock, Sevvy?” You slip him between your cunny lips, grinding down on his length, and mixing your liquids together. 

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Please, please fuck me!” Taking him in one hand, you guide him to your opening, before pushing his tip inside teasingly. His whimper causes a gush of your slick to coat his length, helping you ease down him, until your pelvises touch. You can feel his dark, trimmed pubic hair rub against your cunny, making you squeeze down experimentally, “You-you’re so tight!” 

Smiling at him coyly, you reach behind you, and unclasp your bra, letting your perfect tits jiggle enticingly. You toss it aside, before grasping Severus’ hands, and guiding them to your breasts. He immediately squeezes, loving the feeling of them in his hands. You let out a small whimper, moving your hips in a circular motion, ultimately grinding him against your cervix. 

“Can I move, Pretty Boy?” Groans of pleasure rattle his chest, as you start to suck dark hickies onto his pristine skin. 

“Yes! Yes!” Giggling, you quickly lift your hips almost off of his cock, before slamming down harshly. Both of you groan in pleasure, signaling you to increase your pace. Moving at lightning speed, you start to bounce rapidly. Tits jiggling in the Slytherin boy’s hands, you bring him into a heated kiss. 

You swallow down his desperate whines, your hands pulling at his unkempt locks. Juices dripping down his cock, both of your thighs are quickly covered by your essence. His abdomen rubs against your clit with every bounce, bringing you closer and closer to your release. 

Breaking from the kiss, you suck on the skin of his throat, before speaking, “You’re so big, Sevvy. My pussy can barely handle how thick you are,” His hips meet yours, hitting your cervix harshly. A loud moan escapes you, “Fu-fuck! You’re so good for Mommy! Come on, Darling, meet my movement, and you can cum inside.”

At your words, he starts a breakneck pace, meeting your every movement with a mighty thrust. Your hands reach up to pinch his pretty, pink nipples, making him falter in his movements. 

“Mommy! Mommy-you feel so good! Please let me cum inside!” Increasing almost impossibly in speed, you feel yourself quickly hurtling over the edge. 

“Gu-go ahead! Mommy wants you to cum with her!” With one last sitting movement, the both of you orgasm harshly. Your back arches almost painfully, as you feel him fill you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Your own juices squirt out, coating the both of you in a sheen of white sperm and a glossy cunny juice. 

Severus face plants into your chest, practically drowning in your perfect teats. Whilst catching your breath, you run your hands through his hair, loving how silky the strands are. 

“You did well, Sevvy. You were so good for me,” You fully embrace him, as he buries his head further into your plush chest. 

“Th-thank you, Mommy, I’m glad I was good enough for you,” Bringing his face up to your level (wish is relatively hard, because he’s tall), you smile sweetly at him. 

“You’re always enough for me,” Kissing him on the forehead, you cuddle into him for a while longer. 

While you’re content and happy, Severus is over the moon. 

The girl he’d pined over for years is finally within his grasp! He’d have to write this moment down the moment he gets to his dorm! 

He’s just one step closer to stealing her away the moment they graduate. Hopefully, you’ll still be the homemaker he knows you’re meant to be, even if you’re a bit angry at him at first. 

Wrapping his arms tightly around you, he knows that you’re the only one for him. Hopefully, you think the same, too.

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…�� Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?��

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[trashytummiez]

Could you write a story about Mina and Kirishima having a date where their appetites get the better of them, so they wind up all full and burpy?

Kirishima had always been meaning to ask Mina out on a date but every time he tried to work the nerve to talk to his pink-skinned classmate the butterflies in his tummy would always get the better of him and he'd always chicken out. So when she ended up asking him out instead it certainly made things a lot easier. She always knew how to make everything look so much easier than it was after all.

The two ended up going out to dinner which Mina insisted was really casual. Kirishima still kept trying to mind his manners all throughout dinner but unfortunately the red haired boy also had one of the most immense appetites within UA. Meaning despite his best efforts he ended up eating quite a lot more than he intended to eat but he just couldn't help himself. The food was simply way too good and the well-meaning boy ended up eating a whole heck of a lot more than he intended to eat on his first date with his long time friend.

But to Kirishima's surprise whereas most girls might have been turned off by his voraciousness Mina was right there with him every step of the way. He knew the pink girl had a pretty big appetite of her own but he never imagined in his life that she could ever pack it away an ounce as much as she had done on their date. It was surprisingly disarming and only worked to help Kirishima relax that much more around her which only encouraged him to eat even more as the night went on.

By the time they were back at Kirishima's place both teens were stuffed to the brim. "Unngh man I'm stuffed..." Kirishima groaned heavily and placed both hands atop his belly. He'd eaten so much that his tummy was bulging out as though he swallowed a beachball that rode his t-shirt up and exposed his bare stomach. It churned noisily while Kirishima rubbed it to try and soothe that persistent ache. His stomach felt so incredibly heavy and taut after eating so much in one sitting. "How're ya holdin' up Mina-chan?"

"Unnnnnnngh..." was the only reply he got when the bloated pink girl flopped down lazily onto the couch next to the red haired boy.

When Kirishima glanced over at his date and saw how much she'd managed to eat in full he couldn't help being impressed.

Mina's tummy was huge.

Like Kirishima she looked as if she swallowed a basketball. Though it was notably smaller than Kirishima's belly due to the strength of his stomach and his overall endurance it was nonetheless big enough that her own top was riding up and her shorts were both unbuttoned unzipped and even tugged down a little to give her big perfectly round tummy some much needed breathing room. But because of the nature of her acidic quirk much of what she had eaten was already well more digested than what Kirishima ate. Which was why Mina's stomach looked much softer and more sloshy than Kirishima's rock hard stomach.

"Dude I can't believe how full my tummy is right now," Mina said rubbing her belly and giving a strained huff in the process.

Kirishima couldn't help snicker at her adorable use of the word 'tummy'. "Heh at least we know you could kick Kaminari's ass if he tries to challenge ya to an eating contest," he said encouragingly.

Mina giggled but that soon turned to a sickly groan when the giggling made her tummy jiggle and slosh heavily.

Kirishima saw that and scratched the back of his neck bashfully. "My bad."

But Mina waved her hand dismissively and smiled at the sight of Kirishima's larger belly. "I'm still blown away by how much you managed to eat over there. You almost look pregnant!" She teased and gave Kirishima's big belly a teasing pat.

Kirishima blushed both from the joke and from Mina's hand thumping his tummy like that. Unfortunately that pat she gave disrupted some of the pressure that was brewing in his stomach. It wasn't long into his binge eating that Kirishima felt the need to burp really badly. But because he was around Mina he didn't want to embarrass her or gross her out with his crudeness especially if he wanted there to be a second date. All dinner long Kirishima desperately needed to burp but had been holding it in all night. He knew if he tried to let out muted ones to relieve pressure it would all come rushing up. And he knew if he gave any closed mouth burps those would still be loud enough to draw attention.

So when Mina's pat tried to work the pressure up his throat Kirishima desperately willed himself not to burp hoping instead he could excuse himself for a moment to leave long enough to let loose clear of Mina's earshot. Mina looked at him with confusion when she saw Kirishima clamping a hand over his mouth and looking mildly nauseous.

"Are you okay? You're not about to be sick are you?" She asked obvious to Kirishima's gastric distress.

All Kirishima could do was nod desperately in the hopes to holding back the pressure.

But then a thick gurgle erupted from Mina's own bulging tummy. And without a moment of hesitation Mina threw her head back and gave a huge throaty burp that completely caught Kirishima by surprise.

HHHRRRRREEEEEEERRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRAAAAAAAAAHHPP!!!!!!!

Kirishima was in awe. Not only was Mina even remotely embarrassed by letting out a big unladylike burp but she looked almost as proud as she did relieved the way she moaned in satisfaction and gave her belly such a hearty pat of relief after. Her tummy jiggled and sloshed heavily from the pat she gave it.

"Ohhhhhh yeah I needed that good god," Mina moaned contently then casually let rip another hearty burp. She turned to Kirishima and tilted her head. "Sure you're okay? You're sweating bullets."

Unfortunately since Kirishima was so awestruck he had almost forgotten how turbulent his tummy was getting when he tried to assure her that he was okay. Because the only thing that exited Kirishima's mouth was a giant burp that was infinitely louder than what Mina had just let out.

BBBBRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHRRAAAAAHHP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All that gas Kirishima had been holding in came violently rushing out of him like a bomb. That had to be one of the biggest burps Kirishima had ever let out. And the relief he felt was immense. But with that monster freed came all the pressure behind it.

Kirishima palmed the side of his bloated belly and brought a fist up to his mouth in time to give an incredibly deep closed mouth burp Mina could hear rumbling quite loudly in Kirishima's mouth. Then Kirishima gave an even longer and deeper closed mouth burp that made him wince from how hard it was to hold back from exiting his mouth.

He wearily blew the gas off to the side and sighed heavily giving his tummy a few hearty pats of his own. But he nonetheless blushed and gave a bashful, "'scuse me. Sorry but I really needed to get that out..."

Mina giggled loudly. "What are you apologizing for dude? That was a great one! Bet that felt amazing too!" She patted Kirishima's belly a few times then started rubbing it a little firmly. "Got any more in there?"

Kirishima was blushing immensely from having his tummy rubbed by his pink skinned crush. "Umm...p-probably..." he said timidly. Her rubbing was not only deeply sensual when his belly was so heavy and full but it was stimulating his stomach muscles enough to circulate more air in Kirishima's stomach.

He turned his head and gave a really big burp that he couldn't hold in.

BBBRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHP!!!!!

Mina giggled some more. "Wow you really were holdin' back all dinner weren't you!" She said and gave Kirishima's tummy a few firmer pats.

"Well I was..." Kirishima paused to give a really deep burp that left him panting. "...AAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRHP!!!! Ohhhh man...but yeah, I was tryin' not to embarrass you."

Mina tilted her head in confusion. "What by burping? Who cares? I'm not Momo dude! I wasn't gonna get grossed out or anything."

"Yeah but we were also in...buuuuuuuhhhp...unf...in public. It's not manly to potentially gross other people out when they're tryin' to enjoy their meals."

Mina simply gave Kirishima a smile and teasingly poked his belly button a few times which made him blush even harder.

"You're too cute sometimes," she said which earned a bashful smile from the muscular boy. "Well either way if ya gotta burp don't hold back dude! I'm definitely not gonna," Mina said.

And right on cue her own belly gave another thick churning sound which made Mina's face tighten.

That was until she gave a thick rumbling burp that rolled out of her for a few seconds. But Mina maintained that look and held up a finger.

"Mph wait there's more," Mina said in a concentrated tone. She gave her glutted tummy a few pats which drew Kirishima's eyes to her bulging pink belly watching its flesh ripple with each pat she gave and slosh like it was full of incredibly rich jelly. She gave another low rolling burp and followed it up a few shorter ones.

BRRRAAAAAAAAARRRUUUUUUUURRRUUULLLLP!!!!!!

HRRRRUUUUUUUuuuuuuurrrOOOOOOOORRrrlk!!!

BrrrrruUUUUHP!!

As none of the burps gave Mina any relief she huffed in frustration that almost resembled a mildly nauseous pout.

"Ungh hate when they get stuck like that," Mina complained gently stroking her tummy from side to side while it churned noisily. "Kirishima you wanna gimme a hand?"

The bloated red haired boy tilted his head in confusion. "Ummm...whadduya mean?"

"I mean literally gimme your hand silly!" Mina said and grabbed Kirishima's hand. The boy yelped and went as red in the face as his hair when Mina placed his hand right against the dead center of her utterly engorged belly.

It felt so unbelievably soft to the touch and was so fast at digesting that her tummy almost felt a little squishy the way Kirishima's hand sank mildly into her bloat.

"There ya go! Now all you gotta do is push down!" Mina explained.

Kirishima gulped thinly and anxiously. He'd never touched Mina's flesh so intimately before and something about holding her belly just made Kirishima feel incredibly funny. But in a pleasant sort of way he couldn't describe.

Pushing thoughts aside for a moment Kirishima took a nervous breath then did as Mina asked by pushing down into her tummy.

Straight away a rush of gas worked its way up her chest and Mina this spunky pink skinned girl expelled a burp so loud that Kirishima almost mistook it for a dragons roar.

AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUURRRRHHHHHRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOORRRHHHHHPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kirishima was amazed. Not only was such a monumental burp easily a record breaker but he could feel Mina's tummy rippling under his palm from how intense that burp was.

Mina looked dazed but oh so relieved when it ended the way she slumped in her seat and nearly went cross eyed.

"Ohhhhh wow...that felt amazing..." Mina moaned.

Though he was still blushing Kirishima gave a fang-y grin. "Dude that was manly!" He said and gave Mina's jiggling tummy a few pats.

Mina hiccuped from the patting then grinned at Kirishima. She subtly gulped down some air which made her tummy feel mildly tighter under Kirishima's hand. Then Mina burped that air back up in the form of the words "Th-AAAAAAAAAAANNK . . . YYYYOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!"

Kirishima was taken aback by Mina burp-talking so effortlessly and really stretching the 'you' out for as long as she could. It left her panting when she finally finished and managed a weary giggle.

She seemed to be helping Kirishima to get more comfortable because the manly boy took in a few gulps of his own and gave an even louder response to Mina's crass antics.

AAANYY...

T-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMME...

DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kirishima successfully burp-talked the words 'anytime dude' with his eruptive dialogue getting louder with each word until he pushed out a really loud finish.

Both teens broke into a fit of laughter at their incredibly juvenile antics. Mina's tummy kept jiggling the more she laughed but with all that gas let loose it didn't hurt as much to laugh as prior. When the laughter subsided Kirishima smiled fondly. Because he was so much more comfortable now he began to gently rub Mina's belly.

The pink girl closed her eyes and sighed contently while Kirishima's hand gently stroked up to the roundest peak of her tummy and down all the way to her delicate lower tummy without reaching too low in case that made his date uncomfortable. But at this point Mina didn't appear uncomfortable with anything. She sighed happily and leaned against Kirishima and leaned further into his hand.

He continued to gently rub her belly and feel that odd warmth throughout his body. Kirishima couldn't explain it but the sight of Mina's tummy so big and round and the feeling of it brought an indescribable pleasure for the boy. A feeling that was more subtly matched by Mina whenever she caught a glimpse of Kirishima's belly in its bloated state.

Neither one could put into words what they were feeling. But they both knew that they very badly wanted to see the other getting stuffed like this again in the future.

Which all but guaranteed there would be a second date. And a third. And a fourth after that.

But for now both teens could very comfortably say this first date couldn't have gone any better.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Fifteen people who found out about James, Sirius, and Remus and the one person who never did

To clarify: James, Sirius, and Remus are queerplatonic partners in this case, or QPP's. This means that they're essentially special friends, ones who indulge in physical and emotional connections that are typically thought of as beyond platonic.

ONE: Peter Pettigrew

By fourth year the Marauders are legends. Everyone knows them as the fun-loving band of brothers without any cares in the world. Only the four of them know the true nature of the Marauders - bloody, battered, and bruised.

One day Sirius and James are fighting, an explosive sort of argument where Peter hides behind his curtains while peeking out through a crack in them and Remus reads calmly on his bed. Then suddenly the shouting stops, and Peter’s jaw drops open while Remus looks up from his book.

There, in the middle of the room, are Sirius and James, Sirius’ hands on James’ face and his mouth on his lips. Sirius pulls away before James can respond, covering his mouth with his hands and tearing up while James blinks in shock and Peter stares.

Then, Remus starts laughing, and James drags Sirius into a crushing hug, pressing kisses all over his face before finally pecking him on the mouth and then letting go. Peter squeaks out a garbled question when Remus rolls his eyes and says, “What, no love for me?”

Immediately, Sirius and James tackle him onto the bed, the three of them collapsing into a mess of laughter and kisses while Peter stares and stares and stares.

TWO: Marlene McKinnon

In an act of drunken desperation to forget her own confusing sexuality (girls are super hot but the idea of being in love makes me wanna throw up, for reference), Marlene flirts with Sirius at a party. His eyes are dark and alluring and he’s addicted to dancing, so it’s not exactly difficult. But just as her hand snakes up his arm, Remus appears, wrapping himself around Sirius and kissing him happily, Sirius melting against him.

Marlene steps back in her shock, creating just enough room for James to stumble over tipsily and start making fun of Sirius’ ears; that is until Sirius leans down and kisses him too just to shut him up, pulling back with a laugh so loud it rings in Marlene’s ears as she runs for the comfort of Dorcas, who simply smiles and slips her hand through Marlene’s blonde curls and kisses her until she can’t feel anything anymore.

THREE: Minvera Mcgonogall

In fifth year, Mcgonogall is awoken by a bawling James Potter at her door, sobbing uncontrollably and blubbering about something she can’t really understand. Eventually he calms down enough that she manages to get that he’s upset because he just found out that Sirius and Remus are dating.

Mcgonogall is terribly confused - haven’t the three of them been dating for years?

“No,” James says. “We’re just friends. Friends who kiss and love each other more than anything but aren’t in love with each other. I know… I know that doesn’t really make sense. I’m just… I’m just scared that since they’re boyfriends, or whatever, they won’t… they won’t…”

Mcgonogall opens her mouth to respond when Sirius’ voice cuts through the chaos -

“Won’t what? Love you? Because if you think that my being in love with Moony means I’m going to stop snogging you at every available opportunity then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought, Jamie.”

James looks up with a grin even as the tears still stream down his face, taking in the sight of a grinning Sirius and Remus, whose hands are tightly clasped between them. Mcgonogall watches, blinking in shock, as James bounds over to them and laughs as Sirius dips him in a kiss and Remus rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you morons,” he says, dragging them away as Sirius tries and fails to kiss him silly, laughing.

FOUR: Severus Snape

Sixth year is when shit first hits the fan. The Prank is a tear in their carefully cultivated tapestry, one that sends all three of them exploding in different directions. Severus is on his way to the infirmary for some more dreamless potion from Madam Pomfrey (and to check on Remus after the traumatic mindfuck that was last night’s full moon) when he sees the shitshow begin.

Remus is lying in a hospital bed, confined by bandages and fatigue but looking no less terrifying as he bites insult after insult towards Sirius. (The only one of these Severus remembers is “I thought you loved me, asshole!”, and only because Sirius had fled the room in tears after it was spoken.) James tries to sit down at Remus’ bedside, but before he can Remus breaks down in tears.

James reaches out to hold him, but Remus shoves him away, screaming until James leaves, his head hanging low in defeat. Severus approaches carefully, holding out one of his bottles of dreamless sleep.

“Here,” he says softly. “So you can forget, for a little while.”

Remus looks up at him and smiles weakly.

“Thanks,” he rasps, and Severus leaves with a nod, deciding it’s better to quit while he’s ahead.

FIVE: Lily Evans

Despite all of the horror of the Prank, it is less disastrous than one might think. There is a war coming; Severus has sworn to Remus himself that he will never tell and has also started searching for the cure for lycanthropy while he’s at it (not that he’s found it; he never will); and Sirius Black and Remus Lupin love each other more than words can say and will no matter the consequences, everybody knows that.

And Lily, she misses Severus - no one else understands that, but she does. She loves him.

She’s studying with Remus one day, their backs against the wall and knees to their chests, and ends up asking him how Severus is doing, eventually winding them down a conversational path about lost love and finding hope anyway. Remus, however, collapses into tears talking about Sirius and how much he misses him and loves him, still.

Lily doesn’t know what to do; Remus Lupin does not cry, at least not in front of anyone. Before she can panic too badly about it though, James is there, on his knees in front of Remus and whispering quietly to him, taking his hands and kissing his knuckles in between murmurs of affection. Sirius stands behind him, hands clenching in and out of fists as he tries desperately not to touch, but that only lasts a few moments before Remus is laughing through his tears, making grabby hands for Sirius.

Sirius squats down hesitantly, gently wrapping his arms around Remus, who pulls him down by the neck and jaw and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him as James smiles tiredly, passerbys whoop and stare, and Lily looks at James and feels her heart flutter in her chest. He smiles at her, and she flushes, then stands and heads for the opposite corner, where Severus is leaning against the wall, his nose in a book.

No words are needed between them. She pulls him in by the tie, and there’s a single feeble whoop for them, too - Lily smiles at the sound of James’ voice, hope sparking in her chest as her eyelids flutter closed.

SIX: Regulus Black

Regulus, struggling under his parents’ stifling regime alone since Sirius left, can’t say he’s not shocked when Sirius drags him up to a Marauders sleepover in the Gryffindor dorms one night. Peter isn’t there - Remus says he’s staying with a Hufflepuff named Max he’s into - but Remus, Sirius, and James all gravitate towards one bed, Remus lying on his back with James’ head on his stomach, running his fingers lazily through James’ curls.

Sirius beams at the sight of them and jumps in beside them, and James leans up and pecks Sirius on the mouth, who smiles. Regulus’ heart twinges at the sight - his brother has so much more love than he does, and Regulus won’t deny that he’s always been just a little bit in love with James Potter - but then James smiles at him with those twinkling eyes and Regulus’ heart calms.

Sirius draws him close by the hand, pulling him into his side and kissing the top of his head. They laugh and wrestle and joke around until eventually Remus falls asleep in James’ arms, and James is not long to follow. Regulus lies awake long after, nestled into Sirius’ side, the silence comforting like a warm blanket. Until Sirius murmurs, “I love you, Reggie,” and drifts off, and Regulus is left staring at the ceiling, alone.

He knows, Sirius’ hand over his heart, that this is his brother’s way of saying goodbye.

SEVEN: Hope & Lyall Lupin

“Criminals” is not a word Lyall Lupin would use to describe Sirius Black and James Potter, but maybe it should be. Because they break into his house on Christmas Eve the boys’ seventh year, the moon already rising in the sky. Lyall tries to stop them, but Sirius Stupefies him with cold eyes and transforms into a hulking dog right then and there, trotting down the basement stairs as James follows, breaking Remus’ chains with his human hands and ushering him out the door before taking his stag form.

Lyall and Hope watch in shock from the kitchen as Remus turns and Sirius and James tame him easily, the wolf nuzzling them like old friends. By morning, they are still out in the yard, the sun rising, now fully human. At first Lyall worries for his son’s modesty, but Sirius has already wrapped his shirt around Remus’ waist, and Remus, barechested in the sun, is holding James’ head to his, muttering in Welsh as James tries desperately to breathe, apologizing over and over for a gash on Remus’ chest put there by his antlers. Remus smiles, and Sirius hums a Queen song under his breath, and Lyall can’t hear everything his son is saying but he catches just enough -

“Mae'n iawn, fy nghariad. Shhh, annwyl.” (It's alright, my love. Shhh, dearheart.)

EIGHT: Albus Dumbledore

The news that Regulus has died comes on a Wednesday. Dumbledore is the one to deliver it, with a heavy heart and a heavier theory in his head. He notices that James is there, in Sirius and Remus’ home, but does not question it, only offering the story of the Horcruxes to Sirius, who sits on the couch. As the words pour out, dry and frail, Sirius’ face pales to ghostly white. Remus emerges from the kitchen with tea just as the final phrase leaves Dumbledore’s lips -

“Your brother died a hero.”

The tea clatters to the floor as Sirius reaches for his wand on the table, pointing it towards his head and getting out “Avada -” before James and Remus are on him, James wrenching his wand away while Remus locks Sirius in his arms, gently coaxing him down onto the floor and rocking him back and forth as he breaks down. James returns from hiding the wand and wraps himself around the both of them, breaking down with Sirius and pressing tearful kisses to every inch of skin he can find. Remus looks up at Dumbledore with glassy eyes and says -

“Please take your leave, Professor.”

Dumbfounded, Dumbledore does.

NINE: Dorcas Meadowes

Dorcas has lived with Marlene since school - Dorcas was in love with her, and Marlene liked sex and liked Dorcas in a “we can be best-friend-partner-lovers forever, mkay?” way. But no one else can understand that - the fact that they’re physically intimate but not a couple, that they’re married by law and spirit but not in love, that’s not something anybody gets. So when Marlene dies, Dorcas locks herself in their home, for grief and madness alike.

One day, Sirius comes to visit her. She doesn’t know why - Lily is about to have a baby, Voldemort is specifically targeting the Potters, their husband Snape is a fucking spy, and Remus is undercover amongst the wolves. All this and there’s a traitor in their midst - Sirius has no business visiting a grieving woman when there’s a war on.

But war there is, and visit he does.

Dorcas makes him tea, and they converse quietly about Marlene for a time. It’s when Sirius’ apology comes that she snaps -

“You can’t possibly understand what it’s like to lose her. She’s - she was my everything. My other half, a part of me, my - my wife. Not just a friend but not a lover… well, not in anything but the physical sense anyway, but - she was my life.”

Sirius stands, throwing his hands out to the side.

“You think I don’t understand?” He says, laughing and running a hand through his hair. He blinks back tears, then thrusts his left hand her way. “I know exactly what you’re feeling. That grief, that fear, I - I feel that every day.”

Dorcas shakes her head, batting his hand away.

“Remus is the love of your life, not your - your, I don’t know, partner? You can’t -”

“James,” Sirius interrupts, desperately, and Dorcas shuts up. “Jamie. My Jamie. Well - Remus and I’s Jamie, really.”

He smiles - a broken, broken thing.

“I understand, see?” He says, twisting his wedding ring around so instead of a moon it shows a black set of antlers. “See? I know. I understand. I do.”

Dorcas stares, quietly, and then starts laughing. It’s a foreign, unwelcome sound, and Sirius reels back in shock. They stand there, opposing each other, until suddenly the laughs ebb out into sobs, and Sirius pulls her to his front and doesn’t let go.

TEN: Mary MacDonald

The day Harry is born, Severus isn’t even there. He’s deep into Voldemort’s forces by now, only holding contact with Dumbledore out of necessity, and James and Lily are both exhausted, missing their husband with a newfound intensity and knowing Voldemort wants to kill their newborn son. Sirius and Remus are there, Mary too, and as Lily sleeps with Harry on her chest and Mary holds her hand, Sirius and James fight.

Loudly.

(In the hallway, of course, but still.)

Remus is helpless in between them - Mary hears very little of what is actually said. Bits and pieces here and there -

“You can’t protect him by -”

And “We need you, dipshit!”

And “I swear to fucking Merlin, Jamie -”

But nothing really solid. She watches through the window as they scream, until suddenly Remus reaches out and pulls James into a kiss. Mary drops Lily’s hand in shock, and watches with a gaping mouth as Remus lets go of James to pull Sirius into him, kissing him passionately and without reserve. Finally, when he pulls away, he glares at the two men and seethes something just loud enough for her to hear -

“Listen up, you idiots. That child needs our protection. That means hiding. We know fuck all about the future but this is war. Our baby is not gonna die because the people who love him can’t let him go.”

Sirius and James both nod sagely, James leaning in to peck Remus on the mouth - “Sorry, Remy.” - before he wanders back inside the hospital room. Outside, Remus collapses into Sirius’ arms, the two of them holding each other and rocking back and forth. James looks up at Mary from the other side of Lily’s bed and smiles wryly.

“Shit, huh?” He mutters, and Mary, speechless, nods.

ELEVEN: Fleamont & Euphemia Potter

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter go into hiding when James and Lily do, knowing they could be tortured for their whereabouts despite not knowing them. Remus comes bursting through their fireplace on Halloween, covered in cuts and bruises and coughing with baby Harry cradled against his chest. Through hacking breaths and with glassy eyes, he tells them their son is dead with his wife and Sirius has been arrested for their murder, along with Peter’s and some Muggles’. He kisses their foreheads and tells them to take care of themselves, leaving with the last words he ever says to them -

“I loved your son. So did Sirius. We - I will do everything I can to protect Harry. I promise.”

He disappears through the fireplace before they can respond, leaving them to grieve.

TWELVE: Walburga & Orion Black

After leaving Harry with Dumbledore, who assures him the child will be given to the custody of his living father as soon as he’s emerged from his undercover work (a lie, Remus later learns), Remus makes his way to Regulus’ grave. There’s no body there, of course, but Remus never got to say goodbye to the boy he considered something of a son, and he figures now, when he’s lost everything, is as good a time as any.

It turns out he’s not alone - Walburga and Orion Black, not yet locked up in Azkaban for their crimes, are there already, and spit in his face for daring to grieve their son when he’s a werewolf who supposedly turned their other one queer and heady. Remus stares them down, and in a calm voice with his hands in his pockets tells them -

“I loved Regulus like a brother. As for Sirius… well, he married two blokes. Oh -” He smirks. “And he was damn good in bed, too.”

Walburga lets out a shrill scream, turning her wand on Remus, and he holds his head high as he disarms both her and her husband and promptly kills the two people who made his husband’s life a living hell for sixteen years. As he stands there, staring at their still-warm bodies and always-cold eyes, he can feel no remorse - only a deep ache, loss and regret plaguing him with age long before his time.

THIRTEEN: Molly & Arthur Weasley

Twelve years pass without so much as a breath from Sirius or Remus. James is six feet under and Harry is thirteen, and after the havoc that occurs at Hogwarts his third year, they settle at Grimmauld Place, together. Molly and Arthur are tasked with bringing them essentials and information, and take notice of the fact that the two rarely leave each other’s sides. They’re wearing their wedding bands, which Molly does not fail to notice are marked with antlers as well as moons and pawprints, and Remus has another ring around a chain on his neck with only a pawprint and a moon. They look tired and worn out, Sirius more than Remus, and one day Molly pulls him aside to ask him privately if they’re doing alright.

Remus gives her a wry smile, his eyes twinkling just the slightest bit as he answers, “Yes. Of course.” Molly asks him again, saying she’s worried, and Remus shrugs, looking through doorways to Sirius, at the table with Arthur.

“I’ve had twelve years to grieve. Getting Sirius - getting my husband back was the greatest happiness I could ever ask for. But Sirius, he… he was never allowed to truly mourn. He’s still…”

He gets this distant look in his eyes and startles when Molly touches his arm, offering a small smile.

“I’ve had time to grieve our partner, is all I’m saying,” he murmurs. “Sirius needs time before he can even begin to forgive himself for what happened to James.”

Molly keeps her shock inward, squeezing Remus’ arm once before ushering her husband out the door. Watching from outside as Grimmauld Place folds back into itself, she thinks she sees two silhouettes in the window, melting into one.

FOURTEEN: Nymphadora Tonks

Nymphadora Tonks falls in love with Remus Lupin almost the moment she meets him. He’s handsome, he’s funny, he’s kind and smart and brave - what else could you want? And she thinks he likes her too - even if her cousin is desperately in love with him, which she would have to be blind not to see. But she knows this the way she knows the rhythm of her heartbeat in her chest - Remus Lupin was born to be hers.

So imagine her surprise when his response to her confession is to shake his head and laugh.

“I’m a married man, Dora,” he drawls, standing and flashing his ring towards her around a glass of whiskey. “I thought you knew that. I am sorry to say I cannot return your feelings… beyond my marriage, age, and lycanthropy, you must have noticed that women are not… my area.”

Tonks flushes red, jerking back in shock. So her cousin…

“Is it Sirius?” She blurts, and Remus turns towards her again, his eyes twinkling. He nods.

“Yes,” he answers. “Though, I had a second husband… long ago, and a partner more than anything…”

With a distant look in his eyes, he leaves her heartbroken at the dining room table, but not before she sees him slip into a waiting Sirius’ arms, holding him close to his chest as they dance, their eyes closed and two rings bearing antlers hanging between them.

FIFTEEN: Hermione Granger

She starts to wonder, right around the beginning of her fifth year, why Harry seems to have no interest in hanging out with anyone besides her and Ron. Now, she and Ron, they’re in love with each other; Hermione’s neither daft nor blind. But Harry’s in love with them both too, she realizes, and his closest relationships outside of that are past platonic but far from romantic: she can’t call what he has with Luna or Draco “normal”. The summer before her sixth year, she travels to Grimmauld Place, needing some time alone to think before the war envelopes them all. But she finds, when she arrives, that she’s not alone - there, at the dining room table, is Remus, holding a glass of whiskey and wearing three identical rings on a chain around his neck.

“Professor Lupin?” She asks, and Remus smiles wryly. “What’re you doing here?”

Remus sighs, leaving his glass on the table as he stands and grabs his coat.

“Just a bit of reminiscing, my dear,” he says. “No matter. Off we go now, this place belongs to Harry and we have no right to…”

He trails off, his eyes glistening, and Hermione watches his Adam’s apple bob and averts her eyes to the rings, each holding a different two of three symbols: a pawprint, a moon, and a pair of antlers. One of them is the one Sirius used to wear around, always a little loose on his finger from all that malnourishment… Remus must have just grasped it before he fell through the Veil. At the thought, her breath catches in her throat.

“Sirius was your…” She says, and stops when Remus flinches. He gives her a kind smile and nods.

“Yes,” he says. “And James as well, though that was different. More of a… friend, partner - soulmate? -” Hermione coughs. “- than a lover. But, yes. Not that it matters now.”

Hermione’s heart stops in her chest.

“Of course it matters,” she fires back. “You loved him. You loved him, and he’s dead.”

Remus looks down at her, his smile gone, and shrugs.

“All things end, Hermione,” he murmurs. “Especially good things.”

He opens the door and has one foot outside when he turns back to her and says, “Miss Granger?” She looks up at him from her hands, shaking and devoid of rings, and nods.

“Yes?”

Remus smiles, his eyes sad.

“Tell your Harry we love him. All seven of the Marauders, even if some of us never really got to meet him. And tell him… tell him that even if he didn’t die for him or raise him, his father loves him.”

Hermione’s brow furrows, but she nods.

“Of course,” she promises, though she has no idea who the other three Marauders are and could not even begin to guess what Remus means by his comment on Harry’s father. “I will.”

Remus smiles one last time, tips his invisible hat to her, and disappears out the front door and into the night.

ONE: Harry Potter

Remus marries Tonks, but doesn’t love her. Teddy is an accident, and only his in name. Remus will only ever have one son, and his name is Harry Potter.

In the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin dies with three rings around his neck and a secret in his chest. He does not tell Harry. He doesn’t want to burden him.

Their love, along with them, is dead and gone anyway. But when he sees Sirius and James in the white light, for the split second between life and death -

He wonders.

[nooowestayandgetcaught]

ALL 40 BAYBEE!!!!! GIMME SUM ANSWERS

5) Share one of your strengths.

Being,,, prolific?? ?????? ??? ???????????

6) Share one of your weaknesses.

My own mind. No really I'm basically my own worst enemy because I'm too much of a perfectionist and hate myself and mess myself up.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Stars are the many, many eyes left behind of the Old Gods.

Arya heard this before. She's heard that the stars are the last of the Weeping Lady's tears. They are the eternally bleeding wounds of the Great Shepard according to the Dothraki. They are the drops of poison given to Baelor the Beloved as he laid asleep. They are the immortal sparks of R'hallor's breath. Arya believes the stars are nothing. They exist in a chasm of darkness and death, and no-one is meant to understand why.

Evermore (T, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Game of Thrones, 1179 words)

I HAD A LOT OF FUN GOING THROUGH WESTOROS MYTHOLOGY AND TALES IN HISTORY TO MAKE THAT PART. AND THEN WRITING OUT ARYA'S THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT.

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"I liked this shirt, you know," Will complains faintly.

Behind him, one of the car-windows rattle. A badly burned hand emerges from the smoke, clawing helplessly.

"We will find you another," Hannibal tells him, disregarding the murderer's intense, gagging screams.

"That's not the point."

"You're holding on needlessly to the limited value of your material possessions, Will. That's not like you." Hannibal lightly clucks his tongue as if disapproving, approaching him and thumbing down Will's jaw. He's warm and wet, and glorious. He's evolving.

"Says the man who buys Patek Philippe wristwatches," Will retorts softly. "For his own pleasure."

The corner of Hannibal's mouth smirks.

"And what kind of pleasure exists within your mind's eye right now, Will?"

"Ripping out your jugular vein with my teeth," Will murmurs, stroking his lambskin-gloved thumb against Hannibal's neck.

"I would be honored."

The Crescendo Of Dying Screams (M, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal (TV), 908 words)

THIS IS JUST FUN!!! THEY WERE FUN TO WRITE FOR AGAIN AND I HAVE NOT WRITTEN FOR HANNIGRAM IN A WHILE!!

13) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Even if you think it sucks,,,, write it down anyway and then fix it later. The important part is to write and start writing.

14) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Thankfully,,, I don't think I've come across any yet.

15) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I would love to see Perambulate (G, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline & Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee, Adventure Time, 1358 words) done in a comic at least because I NEED THESE TWO CANON COUPLES TO MEET AND BE SILLY. CANON WLW AND MLM.

16) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

NOT REALISTIC. I DO NOT FUNCTION LIKE THAT

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I start out from beginning to ending but sometimes I gotta skip around to keep it going if I get stuck.

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

*shrugs*

19) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

It's probably a little moth trapped in a jar and beating itself senselessly against the glass, but it kind of enjoys it??

20) Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Wrapped in a blanket, alone in my room with headphones and music blasting, with a large water bottle and a little bit of chocolate.

21) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends really! Sometimes I'll go through and correct once, and sometimes I will go through like 14 times in one day!

24) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I have! I will upload it again sometime but like,,,,, the person I had made it for in an AO3 fest basically fucked off and me removing it was me going "nah fuck this,,,, it ain't yours anymore!!!"

27) How do you feel about collaborations?

I have done them! I think they're nice! I do not like long term collaboration projects but for a oneshot, yes!

28) Share your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@glove23 - I look up to this fic writer so much! They have been battling depression and anxiety, and the complexities of their ADHD, for such a long time and whenever they post something,,, I get so excited! I'm really proud of them! It's hard enough for me to write on a bad mental health day, and I know the struggle they go through, and it's INCREDIBLE to see what they can do! They have been writing since they were young and it really shows how much they love writing and how hard they work on getting the characterization and dialogue to be spot on! Obsessed with their work! (AO3)

@not-so-mundane-after-all-97 - What a powerhouse! Incredible writing and fantastic handling of how she structures plot! Constantly in awe of the ideas she has and when they are well-executed (and they are all of the time)! If you are a fan of Will/Lyra from HDM, this is the person to go to for quality! I promise! (AO3)

other writers I really like are @spookywitchnerd24, @theschubita, @anxiouss-princess, @asajjvxntress, @kingburu, @rapha-writes

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

ngl I really wanna do the "they get back from horse riding and Aleksander refuses to leave Alina's side while she's getting healed" sequel to you are too well tangled in my soul by @glove23

31) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Meh. It depends on the thing I'm writing.

32) How do you feel about smut?

I write it all of the time and read it all of the time. I don't think it's a big deal at all. I respect that it's uncomfy for a lot of people

33) How do you feel about crack?

It's fun! And it can be done well! I saw more crack fic being done back in,,,, like the early 00s and now I don't see it as much,,,,, sad

34) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

You know what,,, I was just discussing the psychology of why noncon fic is so popular on AO3 (and I have written it before and to my surprise IT GETS THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF VIEWS) and,,, I think the key components to answering this question is understanding that 1) AO3 allows noncon fic to exist therefore it's a dumping ground and 2) rape culture is so embedded into US-centric society especially and 3) there's a lot of traumatized people on AO3 and likely creating noncon to process what happened to them and 4) it's a taboo subject and humanity has been drawn to and obsessed with what is taboo since forever,,,, and tbh the taboo is fascinating to me! It does draw me in! I have written for it and I've read it, and I think it's important to ask questions and examine why we do this!

35) Would you ever kill off a canon character?

HELL YEAH. ABSOLUTELY. I HAVE DONE IT BEFORE AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!! I prefer more "oh my god they're dead--OH! now they're alive! yayyyyy!" over permanent character death

36) Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3. AO3 is queen. I'm not gonna badmouth FFN and Wattpad in terms of people who go there because that's your business however FFN and Wattpad are largely restrictive and mainstream corporate owned areas of interest that don't give a single shit about their users.

38) Talk about a review that made your day.

Whenever my writer friends comment on my fic,,, I literally get emotional. Like those are my favorite comments to see :)

39) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

BE SAD FOR HALF A SECOND AND THEN FIGHT.

[cabin7-hufflepuff]

Would I be friends with these characters?

Percy: We’d probably only be friends because a mutual introduced us. He’s the type of person I’d want to be friends with, but when I get to know him, I actually get annoyed with him sometimes. We would be in the same friend group, but rarely talk to each other.

Annabeth: Short answer, no. I would get so irritated by her, I just know it. I would only ever talk to her because I know Percy and other people she does, but I might go to her for homework help.

Grover: I would love to be friends with Grover. I don’t think I would ever seek to hang out with him, but we’d get along swell. Not a best friend, but a good friend.

Luke: He’s someone who I would innocently be friends with until I found out the crap he’s done. Then, like I’ve done so many times before, I cut him out of my life, and years down the road, remember with an ache in my heart the friendship we used to have. (what I’m not drawing from life experience)

Nico: I would want to be friends with him so badly, but I think he would hate me. Maybe not hate, but it would never even cross his mind to talk to me. Plus, I’ve only ever had a few friends who are similar to him, and, uh, I was never close to them so. Rip him being my favorite character.

Will: YESYESYES. Will and I would get along so well, it’s not even funny. He and Leo are up there at the top. We could literally just go sit outside on a nice day and discuss random things about life and the world. I also want to be a Physical Therapist when I’m older, and boy howdy does Will probably know a lot of interesting medical terms and all that jazz. PLS I WOULD NEVER GET BORED TALKING TO HIM. Watch Nico maybe sort of become acquaintances with me cuz of Will.

Jason: I think we would get along a lot better than people would expect. We’re somehow polar opposites but also the same person. I don’t know if I would have a crush on him irl other than for his looks, but he’s who my friends pester me for having a crush on, so I, of course, think I do.

Leo: OF COURSE. Out of pretty much everyone in this group, I would probably be closest friends with Leo. We’re both smart (in different ways, mind you) but don’t get the best grades all the time. Stupid, silly jokes are literally my only version of humor, and watch the two of us just quip back and forth. He’s who I’d have a real crush on over Jason, honestly.

Piper: No. No way. I don’t think I would be able to stand her. Ever. She’s not mean, but there are just those people you don’t like. The only reason I even tolerate her is because of Jason and Leo.

Reyna: We’re the pair that are great friends on whatever team we’re both on (definitely volleyball, excuse you) and then we end up never seeing each other in the halls. The only discussion topic we know is volleyball or shitty gossip on our coaches lmao.

Frank: YES. oh my gosh, he would bring out the soft side of me. We’re the type of friends who could chat over tea or something. We would have deep, but civilized conversations about either the most useless things, or the most important. Also I love hugs, and he’s most certainly great at them.

Hazel: She’s like a little sister to me. I would give her tips about Frank even though I barely have any dating experience of my own. She would push me to create the art that I’m too scared to make. I would have such a fun time showing her a bunch of movies she was never able to see, and she would be so patient when I’m ranting about something stupid. She’s just the sweetest.

Lester: I- somehow, yes. I don’t really know why, but I know the answer is yes.

Meg: Nope. Nada. Non. Thumbs down. Sorry y’all, but just no.

Magnus: Not great friends, but yes. I honestly would probably think he’s weird and I have zero explanation as to why. I can’t blame him though, cuz I’m just as weird as whatever story I’ve made up for him in my mind.

Sam: Yes. Purely a school friend though. We’re in a few classes together, and there’s one of the teachers who always lets us be partners for things, because we’re so persistent.

Alex: PLS I’d wanna be friends so bad, but I would be invisible to Alex.

Carter: WE WOULD LITERALLY BE BEST FRIENDS I KID YOU NOT. Ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you that Carter is basically me as a book character. Sometimes we tire of having each other around, since we’re so similar, but we would always go to each other, if not our siblings, to vent or rant about something or someone. (aka us being flustered about Zia and Tom Hiddleston respectively). We try to sit next to each other in every class we have together, and the teachers miraculously allow it, because we’re well behaved students and always pay attention.

Sadie: YES. It’s a good thing Carter and Sadie don’t hate each other, or I would be doomed. The three of us plus my own brother would all get along so well, it’s ridiculous. Any time she and I are together, Carter is constantly rolling his eyes like Oh no, they’re at it again. Two Sadies? What will I ever do with them?

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Seven, "The Recovery"

Word Count: 7.6k words /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: Bloom by The Paper Kites (click to listen)

P.S. Please ignore any weird formatting stupid Tumblr did to the chapter. I just copy and paste from Google Docs and for some reason, Tumblr doesn’t like it. Sigh. 

"He touched her face gently with the back of his hand. 'You disappear so completely into your head sometimes,' he said. 'I wish I could follow you.' 'You do,' she wanted to say. 'You live in my head all of the time.”

- Jace and Clary, City of Ashes

“Ree, you need to eat something.” 

I had heard it again and again, and still, I was ignoring it. For better or for worse. It comes again, and another time as the bleep of the car locking behind us sounds. 

“You know what he’s going to say,” she continues. Of course, I do, it’s going to be if I’ve eaten breakfast, but he’s not himself right now. Yet, he’s still there, deep down. So is the way I don’t want to disappoint him, or our baby. 

“Fine, give me the damned granola bar then,” I relent, swiping the object from her hand and tearing it open. Luckily, my stomach doesn’t roil at the sight of it or the taste, and I chew hungrily. 

“I’ll just be out here then- well, in the waiting room, but not the same one, of course.” 

“Yeah,” I mumble absently, listening to her departing footfall. They echo in my ears amongst the busy sounds of the hospital floor, the Surgical Intensive Care Unit, or something like that. Only a minute off the lift and I couldn’t remember. 

The tips of my ears still felt numb with cold, another sensation nudging against the hammering of my heart in my chest. It grew faster and louder when I reached his door, the number still burned into my memory. This time, I don’t linger, walking right into the sounds and sights I didn’t miss. But there’s the man lying in the hospital bed I ached and longed for all night and this morning as I moved around our house without him. Thought about our baby without him, and saw the memory of him proposing on the balcony by myself. 

My heart slows its ticking and swells when I find his face, only to have it squeeze at the remembrance of the stitches and colors interrupting his beautiful skin. A pallor still clings to him and within moments, my lips are singing from kissing his warm forehead. Soft breaths escape his lips and sitting down in the chair beside him, my heart falls at his absence. There hadn’t been a second since the last time I was here that my thoughts didn’t overrun with missing him, wanting him. It’s unsuccessful when I attempt to nudge the disappointment away, trying to tell myself that he needs the sleep, no matter how much I want to see those eyes open and be warmed by his sunshine smile. 

It’s a few episodes of some Gordon Ramsay show on the telly before my eyes lull shut, awakened sometime later by something stroking my palm. Yawning, I open my eyes regrettably, that is until I see the tired pair looking at me. Searching for me, just like I do with him. 

“Becks . . yer back.” 

“Harry,” it’s a rushed sigh, and so are my movements that bring me to hug him. 

“Mmm, careful, bug.” 

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, pulling away to look at his glassy eyes through my wide-awake ones. 

“‘s okay, c’mere,” he almost smiles, surprising me with the strength he uses to pull on my arm until I’m back in his. “Missed you.” 

“I missed you more.” 

“You sleep okay?” he murmurs against my hair, lips sponging a kiss to my temple. 

My lips part with the buzzing excitement I feel to get to talk to him, feeling as if I missed him all over again sitting in that chair. They fall with a doubt, and I’m grabbing for words, not knowing what to say. 

“Fine,” is what I decide on, albeit the fact it’s a lie, but his comfort is more important. The last thing I want to do is worry him, and I try not to think about if that’s what he would want, because once I start I know it’d be a slippery slope. 

“Happy t’ hear.” 

“How about you?” I wonder aloud, stroking my fingers through his hair, unable to ignore the way strands are caked together with blood. The sleep had left my body at once, and suddenly, all I wanted to do was to take care of him. Bathe him. Feed him. Make him all better. 

“Alright . . didn’t wake up as much . . How’s baby?”

“Good. I didn’t get sick this morning.” 

The happiness is clear as day in his little wheeze, and the words that follow, “Makes me so happy . . Don’t like seein’ you sick.” 

I have to blink hard and long to push them away when I hear those words, knowing that not an ounce more of truth could stick to them in my head. I don’t like seeing you sick either, but that doesn’t even begin to cover it. It passes, but I don’t know for how much longer. I have shed how many tears now, how can there be any left? Then, I remind myself that I had thought we’d climbed the mountain and gotten to the other side, but no, it still felt as if we were on the peak, unable to know how to find flat ground again. 

“Skye told me . . ,” they’re out and unable to be dragged back in. Neither am I after he coaxed me into bed beside him, his neck warm against my forehead. 

“Told you what?” he murmurs, a raggedness still abrasive in his wonderful voice. My lips still, not knowing how to say it, but that’s not it, as I lace my hand with his. Imagining a gold band on his ring finger, or whatever material Mr. Creative would come up with, surely with diamonds inlaid and all. He’d said silver one day and then gold the next, so it beats me what he’ll end up picking. 

“About giving you my letter.” 

His eyebrows squishing together still was as adorable as could be, despite the way it’s slower and so is his blink. It pains me each second the cogs slowly spin behind his eyes until the wrinkle between them smooths. 

“Ya, I remember now,” Harry admits, lips spreading into a smile that imbues me with light. “Ya didn’t know?”

“No, she didn’t tell me until the night . . of your accident and . . “

“What, bug?” he hums, sending goosebumps down my arm when his thumb begins to draw circles against my knuckle. 

The words are there and I know how to say them, but they refuse to line up nicely. No, they won’t gather on the tracks that guide to my lips, because I know how they’ll sound. Silly as can be. I know the way they’ll make him feel, and with the rock in my gut, I think that’s what I fear most of all. The last thing I’ve ever wanted to do was to hurt Harry, and those words couldn’t ring truer as I lie in the hospital bed beside him. 

“Becks? What ‘s it?” his question comes in a hushed whisper, one marked by a sigh when a wetness meets my cheek. 

“I told Skye th-that-,” I stop and he waits, patient as ever before, perhaps even more so. “I was afraid you didn’t know how much I loved you a-and how badly I wanted a family with you-.” I can’t get any further before my voice is entirely swimming with the dryness of tears, and the subsequent sob. 

“Buggie,” Harry huffs with a voice likened to mine, struggling for breath and a reprieve from the pain. I find my relief in him when he presses me against his front, and already, I’m tired of being careful. I wish things didn’t have to be this way, and that it could come true just that easily. “Ya never need t’ worry . . I know, always have.” 

“B-But what I said-.” 

“It don’t matter . . know ya love me so much. Know you’ve always had tha biggest crush on me,” at that, I think I hear the smallest of titters grace his lips. With it, one almost leaves mine at seeing that slice of him. “Had tha biggest one on you since ‘bout day one . . don’t worry . . I know.” 

“Thank you,” it’s a whisper that I’m sure he hears. A quiet sigh makes its way out when I feel his lips against my wet eyes, once and then twice. “Did it surprise you at all, the letter?”

“Sure did,” he rasps with a slight nod, taking care to rid my cheeks of the tears riddling them. “‘s ‘bout tha sweetest thing ‘ve ever read . . . saddest too . . and flatterin.’” 

“And you kept it?”

“‘Course . . How’d y’know?” he asks with his eyebrows, like always. His expressions lack originality though, because they just won’t move that way. They’re likened to a dough that’s too tough and won’t mold how you’d like it to, but once it has a good rest, it’s ready to. 

“Skye said she saw it in your wallet the other day, it looked like you’d read it a few dozen times.” 

The faintest of light shines in his eyes before the slightest of nods comes, “Sure did . . Befo’ I proposed . . When we broke up . . While you were in hospital still . . I couldn’t lose that, but . . ‘s one o’ tha hardest things . . ‘ve read. Cried loads tha first time and afta that . . . hearin’ all tha pain ya went thru’ ��cos o’ me.” 

“Harry-,” I begin, urgency on my tongue. 

“Doesn’t matter now,” he shushes with a finger to my lips, hand still laced with mine. His blinks are growing longer and eyes glossier, I can already tell his cues. 

“I’ve made you tired again, you should rest.” 

His lips are lazy in their smile, but beautiful as can be. They’d benefitted from the lip balm I’d found in my purse, or what Harry called ‘lathering that crap on his lips,’ which I admittedly probably overdid. Now, at last, they were supple and him, again. 

“Hate t’ agree, but I am . . wanna stay with you, but . . need sleep.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Good,” he grins, pressing his lips to mine before I slide out from under the covers. The faint dimple in his cheek melts away as the covers reach his shoulders, a calmness draping over him. 

I sit there at first for just a moment, one that slowly turns into a few, and then many more, just watching him. He stirs at first to get comfortable until a sigh drops from his lips. The tense space between his eyebrows relaxes as the rest of him does, and for a second, I think that I couldn’t be happier. That is until every reason that I have to not be happy comes rushing back to me. Until I tell myself that’s not true, because for the longest of time, all I had wanted- needed to be happy was to get to love him, and to have him love me back. Something I had spent so many tears and time on, and now, it was mine. The weight on my left-hand tells me so, first with the knot ring secure on my middle finger, and the handed-down coils of gold and diamonds to its left. A calm settles over me when my hand comes to lie on my stomach, and my lips turn up into my cheeks as I watch the first snores leave his lips. 

Harry. 

My Harry. 

My Sunshine, because we’ve been through thick and thin, and I know that he’d always be that for me. A light in the darkness. He hadn’t failed to be one, yet. 

The skin above his brows is silky as a ribbon and saved from the ruin of the bruises and the like that clung to him in other places. It was hard to decide whether or not he was looking like himself again. As the bruises deepened, this swelled and that went down, and as his stubble grew, it was hard to find him in there, but I did. 

A scuffle met my ears, lifting my head up and around. Freezing in my shoes, everything stills as I stare ahead, my fingers in Harry’s hair. Across from me , their lips wobble and still, parting just a second later, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-.” 

I automatically stop him with a terse shake of my head, already recognizing his cues of worry blur in front of me. They shake with more uncertain words as he holds up the vase of yellow daffodils. 

“I hope he likes flowers,” he insists with a shrug of his shoulders, but I can tell there’s more. First, by the way his Adam's apple bobs, and then the way his eyes the same color as mine grow wet. “I’m so sorry, Ree,” Robbie sighs in a choked voice. I never knew how much I had needed a hug from my brother until my arms were around him. 

“Thank you,” it’s a whisper regretful of words I don’t know how to say. 

“‘Course, Ree. God, when Dad told me-,” this time he cuts himself off, but we’re both shaking our heads when he pulls away. He’s chalk full of surprises, starting with his appearance and what I see in his eyes. It may not be the same, but there’s a reflection of the misery that wrenches my insides. 

“It’s okay- well, it’s not, not what happened, but . . .” 

His usually shaggy locks barely move as his head shakes quickly, covered by a maroon beanie. 

“I had this feeling something was up with you, and I tried to call but I didn’t get an answer. I was worried, but then Dad came by to stay and told me.” 

“I haven’t been answering my phone much, sorry,” it’s unremarkable, the sound of my voice and how I try to hide everything sitting inside of it. It’s for nothing when I look over my shoulder, assured Harry’s still sleeping. 

“Shutup, you have nothing to be sorry about,” Robbie tuts, growing quiet. Without looking, I know that his eyes are on me, and on Harry. “How is he?”

“Okay, now . . But it’s still an uphill battle. Concussion, managing pain, therapy, being bloody shot twice . . Everybody is so happy and I just- I don’t understand- of course, I am th-that he’s still here, but-.” 

“It’s okay to feel that way, Ree, whatever way,” he says, not interrupting. A dryness swallows any words in my throat. His hand on my arm startles me, pausing the way I wring my own, but probably for the better. “Maybe it’s because people don’t know. They don’t have to be here every second, knowing how it really is. I don’t mean that-.” 

“I know you don’t mean it that way, Robbie. He’d never be a burden, but it can be s-so hard,” it comes out in a stammer, lips wobbling as Harry’s breaths grow in volume with my proximity. “I’d never wish this upon anybody, t-to go through what Harry did when I had . . my accident- for him to get hurt like this. H-How could somebody do that to another person, Bee?” he smells like the indescribable scent of tears. No, not like the real vanilla extract my grandma would use when we baked, or those woodsy candles I’d see at the shops. Harry’s breaths remain even and slow, despite my lips pressing to his cheek, painting his skin with my tepid tears. The anger burns behind my eyes, filling my being like it has whenever that thought invades my mind, until it melts away unspent. “M-My person.” 

“Ree . . I wish I knew.” 

“Me too,” the whisper rebounds off of Harry’s still lips. I’m only reminded of the way my own taste metallic against the vice of my teeth. “We s-should let him sleep.” 

I barely hear his hummed reply, watching how Harry’s eyelashes flutter against his skin. His color was starting to come back, but it was slow, and I think I was the only one who’d noticed. Was it because I wished it so badly, or because it was the truth? I wouldn’t put it past me to see things that weren’t there, because I wanted so badly for him to be better- no, if I was being honest, I wanted this all to be over. But as I combed his hair back with a feather of a touch before leaving him, I wasn’t sure of the next time I’d ever feel okay again. 

“Ree,” the voice begins behind me, but I’m already turning around. They were the arms I ran to when I was hurt, the pair I pushed away after a fight, and the ones that were always there. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“Still, I should’ve. I’m sorry.”

Hiccuping, words seem like an impossibility whilst it ravages my body again. The ‘it’ that is never that far away, always ready to strike when I think I’m starting to feel put together again. 

“Stop apologizing,” I barely manage, surprised that I allow him to lead me from the room. Out in the hall, he spots a familiar head of rainbow hair, just seconds before I do. 

“Heya, Bee. I didn’t see you come in,” Skye announces in a hushed whisper, sharing a hug. My eyes wander over their shoulders and to Harry. “I can keep an eye on him, if you want.”

I get by with a nod, savoring one last glance of his matted curls and peaceful face before following Robbie down the hall. 

“If something happens, text me. Okay?” I manage at the last second, turning around, making her do the same. 

“Nothing will, Ree, but sure thing.” 

A shiver courses through me as I turn back around, pulling my hands back into the sleeves of this jumper, one of Harry’s. The line between our clothes had bled into the other long ago, and it was hard to remember whose jumper or shirt was whose anymore. He notices, rubbing circles into my back as an almost awkward silence settles around us. 

“I’d ask how you’re holding up, but-.”

“Not good,” it’s a frog-like croak, making me wish for water. His nod can be seen from the corner of my eye, passing nurses and visitors too.

“Damn, have you two been through the ringer or what.”

All my lips can produce is an agreeing hum, but they begin to buzz from his next words. 

“I’m glad you two have each other to hold on to during shit like this, though.”

“Yeah, me too. I don’t know what I’d do without him, I really don’t because . . I’m pregnant too.”

“Wait, what?!” his exclamation is short and brings his feet to an abrupt halt. It’s there, the wanting to laugh at the astonishment freezing his features but I can’t. Instead, I let myself be happy for a moment, because I want that more. 

“Yeah, just found out . . a few days before Harry . .”

“Well, holy shit, you really do beat me to everything. God, would you come here and give your big brother a hug?” I think I feel it coming, and when his arms come around me excitedly, I think maybe I could laugh so I try. “Bloody hell, I’m gonna be an uncle, imagine that. Uncle Robbie. I like the ring to that.”

It dances on my lips, but it’s stolen away by a thought that blossoms into a sentence, “It’s not how I wanted to tell you,” I admit quietly before he releases me, wiping a hand over each of my cheeks quickly. “Or thought I would be.”

“It’s still pretty fucking exciting. You’re gonna be a mum, Ree, you’ve always wanted that. You must be so happy,” Robbie coos, squeezing my arm. I wasn’t aware of where we were going, seeing as how I didn’t know the place either, even Harry’s floor. “Well, would you look at that. Aren’t they something?”

“Harry’s over the moon,” I murmur, stopping at his side. 

“Figured that much. You still haven’t told me if you are, but I’m assuming so seeing as how you played with bloody dolls until we were nearly  thirteen.”

My snarky comment is overdue, but then again, so is his. I’m not sure if I have any left in me nowadays. They’re especially miles away as I watch the squirming pink faces on the other side of the glass before us. 

“I am, but . . “

“Which one ya reckon?” Robbie speaks up, nodding his head.

“Back right corner.”

“Evidence, Attorney Styles?”

“Dark curly hair and chubby cheeks. They’re the cutest one, and they’re not crying, even though the rest are. That would be my baby. And you?”

“No, this was you and Skye’s game, picking out which baby was yours in the nursery and naming them. I just watched you two goofs dreaming of being mums one day . . Where’s it gone, Ree, that dream of yours?”

“I’m scared to be a mum, Robbie. Not as much as when I first found out- I mean, it still doesn’t seem real, but I’m afraid . . afraid that I’ll be a bad one. Especially after Mum told me so.”

“What?” I already know they’re there, waiting on me, even with my eyes fixed on the few rows of squirming babies behind the glass partition. 

“Yeah, she always just has impeccable timing. Called the other day to bitch about me not showing up for lunch, then about not telling her I got engaged, and that I was such a terrible person because of it all that I shouldn’t be a mother,” my voice caught on the last word, like a sock on a loose nail head on the floor. Gulping, I take a moment to breathe before going on. “I haven’t answered a text since I’ve been here or a call, but I see them. I told her to never talk to me again and she keeps texting me. I guess I forgot to block her number, but I don’t really feel like I know how to do anything anymore, but worry about Harry and think about him. And throwing up.”

“Give me your phone,” he doesn’t need to say it twice and nor do I ask, handing it over. Trusting him, I look back to the nursery. 

“God, they’re so tiny. Look at that one, Bee, she’s going to give them a bath . . I can’t believe they’ll be that small- mine and Harry’s baby.”

“Don’t listen to Mum, she has no place to speak. I’m on my last straw with her too.”

“You don’t have to drop her just because of me, you know. I know you two were different, she was nicer to you and didn’t have a piano to abuse you with too,” the nurse unwraps the wailing baby, exposing their small pink body to the cold air. My heart clenches at the sight, amazed at how small they are, and cute. I already for the hundredth time wonder what Harry and I’s baby will look like, just half of those times being in the last few days. 

“How do you not know I can tell when you’re lying? Been able to since we were like, four. Here, I blocked all of her numbers that I know of, work and otherwise, and emails too. Complete radio silence, which is what you need right now . . And I mean it, Ree, there was never anything there with Mum and I. After a while, I figured out she just used me to get to you and Dad, and I’ve had enough of giving her third and fourth chances.”

“Welcome to the club,” I chirp, feeling a corner of my mouth raise watching the little fists of the baby clench and fingers spread. 

“You’ll be a great one, there’s nothing else for you to be. Bloody hell, we were in nursery, not even in school quite yet, and you’d already decided you’d wanted to be a mum,” Robbie remarks, swinging an arm around me. I lean into him, eyes glued to the newborn baby the nurse was washing up. 

“You better not tell Harry about the baby dolls.”

Glancing up, I look into his eyes, watching his lips spread mischievously.

“Thanks for the idea, and you best bet I’ll be getting that kid on a motorcycle before Harry can.” 

“Good luck with that. I doubt he’ll let you beat him to it,” my remark comes. 

My lip burns when my teeth press down into it again, reminded of my old habit once again, the way I tend to take my stress out on it. Just like somebody I know. The thought of Harry on a motorcycle scares me for just a split second, until I remind myself that he’s rode one for how many years? How many times had I ridden on it with him too? Regardless, it doesn’t calm the flare of worry inside of me, not wanting to worry about Harry getting hurt ever again. 

God, please no. 

I wasn’t sure how long we had been away when our feet brought us back to the room, and there I found him awake. 

“There’s me girl,” he whispers with a warm grin, eyes finding me first. They continue to brighten softly when Robbie appears behind me.

“Hey, Harry,” my brother greets softly with a weak wave. 

“Hey t’ you too.” 

“How are you doing?” Robbie asks, stepping up to him and patting him on the shoulder gently. 

“Been better,” Harry suffices. “Think tha worst me ‘s me wrist ‘s fractured . . Can’t have a good wank now.” 

The laugh I’d grown up hearing floats around the room now, and like always, mine joins it. I’m shaking my head in the doorway, watching two of my favorite guys in the entire world. 

“Harry, you’re right handed, silly.” 

“I know, but sometimes ‘s fun t’ change it up . . Right, Robbie?” my fiance quips, somehow his humor is still so present. My brother murmurs a confirmation, and then the room grows silent. 

“I hear you two are going to be parents next year.”

“I see Becks ‘s havin’ fun . . tellin’ ev’rybody,” Harry comments. Walking around Robbie’s side, it takes a moment to catch those green eyes. They raise an eyebrow at me in question. “‘ve only got t’ tell Myles so far . . no fun.” 

“You can take the credit, if you want, mate,” Robbie snickers, stuffing his hands into his pockets awkwardly. 

“Sure can, ‘s me swimmers that won tha race.” 

“Oh my god, Harry,” my words collapse into a laugh. I almost stop when I hear his, wanting to savor his trademark wheeze that I’ve always found so endearing. 

“It’s good to see you’re still giving everybody a run for their money.” 

“There’s no stoppin’ me,” Harry comments, meeting my eyes and winking. Too soon. 

/

All of the Halloween films had been gone from the telly for a few weeks now, but one or two lingered here and there. I had found one of The Addams Family’s on the tv in Harry’s room. It was welcomed, the respite from reality for a little longer. Visitors had been in and out of his room all day, hence why he was fast asleep when I looked over to check on him. Again. It was the family who hadn’t come the day before, an auntie and uncle of his I’d only met once. The hardest of them all was his grandma Claire, because her tears came as soon as she saw Harry, and so did mine. It had gotten easier to talk to his mum and sister, but it was still difficult to talk at all. Even to Harry, who still wasn’t all of the way there. 

I wasn’t sure how long it’d been since the movie finished, except that the clock was ticking faster than I thought. He wasn’t waking up any time soon by the sounds of his loud snores, and I was conflicted about wanting him to. It had grown dark outside long ago and the halls were growing quieter. An anxious warmth was building inside of me, knowing that with each dreaded tick of the clock, I was closer to having to leave. I thought that if maybe, just maybe he didn’t wake up for a while that I could talk my way into staying the night here. Still, part of me knew that I couldn’t do that- that I shouldn’t do that to him. Harry was right that I needed the sleep, we both did, but a heavy knot formed in my stomach when I thought about leaving his side for longer than well, ten minutes. 

A hushed sound pulls me from my thoughts, and I lift my head to find what it is. The image before me roots me to the spot and I don’t dare blink. For what reason, I don’t know. A hiccup spreads through my chest as I stare back, suddenly aware of the wetness gathering on my cheeks. 

“Buggie.” 

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” my whispered words came in a hasty string. My quick work of the wet trails on my cheeks is next, wondering why I’m suddenly self conscious. 

“Don’t gotta apologize,” he insists. There isn’t a smooshing of his brows together or a glazed look to his eyes. His jaw isn’t clenched and if anything, I fill with happiness at finding him waking seemingly without pain, for one of the first times today. “C’mere, Becks.” 

His hand is firm around mine and so is his tugging, but the shake of my head is even more. I try not to dwell on the disappointment lingering in his eyes, knowing that I couldn’t handle that among everything else. I can’t. No, not when I’m going to have to get out of that bed to just get into another, one that’s empty and cold. I know too well that I wouldn’t be able to leave it once I slide under the covers with him. 

“Ev’rythin’ will be okay again,” he hums, voice still thick with sleep. From the corner of my eye, I can see his there, vying for my attention. What I focus on instead is my hand enclosed in his, and the feeling of his skin under my circling thumb. Then, there’s the still shocking appearance of his naked fingers, instead covered with scrapes and crusty cuts. To my surprise, they lift and he struggles to wipe at my cheeks. I can’t stop the smile that lives on my lips for a moment. 

“I don’t wanna go home. I don’t . . want things to be like this anymore.” 

“I know, bug . . Me too.” 

“I don’t want to worry about you getting hurt again, l-like this,” the words are a jumble flowing from my lips. “I-,” struggling to articulate well, anything, my words are lost in another pool of tears. 

“Becks,” Harry coos but I’m shaking my head. 

“I don’t wanna do all of this without you . . any of it, Harry,” lifting my head, I find his tired greens with my own. My heart squeezes at the invading thought of when will there be a time when they’re not glassy and full of exhaustion? “I can’t.”

“Neither do I, Becks . . ‘d never wanna leave you . . and our baby,” his reply arrives in a sigh, and my head is nodding up and down. His words are felt in my heart and in the way he squeezes my hand emphatically. 

“That case it . . it was too high profile, Harry. Neither of us knew it at first until it was too late, but-.” 

“But was too risky, I know . . Whole world was watchin’ . . Nasty people involved, obviously . . I won’t do it anymo,’ Becks.” 

The alarm paints my body in seconds, and then my voice, “What?” He only looks back at me, blinking long and slowly. “Harry, you don’t mean stopping practicing.” 

“God, no,” he disagrees quickly, swiping his tongue out across his lips. “‘d never, y’know that . . I won’t be back fer a while from tha sounds o’ it . . But, ‘ll make a promise t’ you . . No mo’ big cases like that, dangerous ones . . No, we’re startin’ a family now, and I wanna be ‘round . . fer ev’ry second o’ ours kids’ lives . . yours . . . my whole life with you.” 

He had gotten me where he had wanted me by now, close enough to kiss and I couldn’t resist. The last place I wanted to be was away from him, and afterwards, I found my head resting on my arm laid by his side. 

“Thank you.” 

“‘Course, my bug,” his smile warms me like sunshine on a brisk winter day. That and the way he pinches my cheek between his fingers, bringing a similar lift to my lips. It’s moments before I speak again, a few blissful ones of watching him. 

“Does this still mean I have to go back home tonight?” 

The regret comes in a sour wave when I watch the happiness fade from his face, guilt arriving inside me soon after. My eyes fall from his when his answer doesn’t come right away, telling me it then and there. 

“You should, bug . . ‘s fer tha best,” his words still smell of the orange jello he’d had with his dinner, something he had made so many jokes about. He was almost as bad as me, making me spoon feed him and cut his food up like a little baby. But he was my baby, my first one, I guess. “They say ‘ll be able t’ go home in a week or so, that’s good news . . We’re one day closer . . You’ll be okay, ‘ll see you ‘gain in tha mornin.’” 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” I murmur, my head lowering to rest my chin on my arm, replicating the action of my heart. But I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t fallen into the pit of my stomach long ago, unable to find a way out yet. 

/

“Please?”

    “No,” he huffs, a high pitched whine attached to his words. “‘m full, can’t eat another bite.” 

    Clutching his tummy, Harry stares back at me with eyebrows furrowed. 

    “Don’t you pout at me, mister,” I challenge him, waiting for a flicker of something across his face. “Just one more bite, Harry.” 

    “No.” 

    “Harry,” I sigh, dropping my hand and giving him a look. His head slowly shakes from side to side. “God, I hope our baby isn’t this stubborn.” 

    “With you as ‘s mum, I dunno.” 

    “Hey!” I exclaim, words pouring into a laugh when I catch his playful eyes. If I look close enough, I can find the dimple there in one of his cheeks. The little shit. “Eat your jello, for God’s sake.” 

    “Fine, woman,” he relents, face relaxing when I guide the spoon towards his lips. The sound of his chewing fills the quiet room. “Yer gonna be a wonderful mother, y’know.” 

    I don’t know why, but it pulls my head up in surprise. His dimple falls deeper when I find the sage shade of his eyes again. 

    “‘m so happy yer gonna be tha mum o’ me kids.” 

    “Stop it, you’re going to make me cry,” it’s an almost whisper, but the dryness of my throat speaks truth into the words. 

    “I mean it, bug.” All abashed, I feel the heat paint my cheeks as I fold the napkin to stuff into the empty Jello tin. “Who’d have thought it’d be you and me . . Huh, Becks?” 

    “Yeah, talk about mad,” I sniffle, lifting my head as a tear falls down my cheek. “My old boss, Mr. Styles, the best lawyer in all of London.” 

    “Tha lawyer and tha assistant,” his voice is soft as a feather against my skin, and so is his thumb against my palm. Glancing down, the tears stuck to my eyelashes blur the sentiment of his thumb drawing circles on my skin. 

    “And their baby.” 

    “And tha baby,” he almost giggles, it’s so close. But there it is, his trademark wheeze, and I couldn’t be more thankful. “Not sure I can keep it from me mum anymo’ . . ‘s almost came out a few times.” 

    “I know, me too. When do you think we should tell your mum?”

    “What’s this you have to tell me?” somebody says from the doorway. A prickly warmth spreads across my insides at their voice. It disappears within moments when my eyes glide over to his, and he’s calm as a cucumber. 

    One of his eyebrows raises with that always tired smile, and I nod. “C’mere, mum, ‘ve got somethin’ t’ tell you.” 

    “What’s that?” Harry’s mum says, and we meet eyes when I turn to watch her walk in. She sets down a soda cup from the cafe downstairs, and I watch a look of Harry’s come over her face. “Everything alright? You two are crying, it’s scaring me,” she tries to laugh but it doesn’t go very far. 

    “Would you like to do the honors?” I nearly croak, bringing my attention back to Harry. Despite the energy he was slowly getting back, he still looked pooped. But for a second, the sunshine glowed across his face, and because of that, on us too. 

    “‘Course,” Harry smiles and with a clearing of his throat, announces the news. “Yer gonna be a gran again . . well, in ‘bout eight months or so.” 

    “What?!” at her exclamation, I’m suddenly not sure who to be looking at, and there I find myself glancing between the two. My almost mother in -law and soon to be husband. “Harry- Becky-,” she struggles with the words, turning to look at the both of us before a hand comes to her mouth and she’s crying. 

    “Bloody hell . . why d’you women cry so much?” he says, and we both turn to find his eyes welling with tears too, making all of us laugh. 

    “Oh, loves, I’m so happy for you. You’re both going to be wonderful parents,” she blubbers, almost squeezing the air out of me when it’s time for a hug. Her familiar floral scent and trademark coffee smell surrounds me as I laugh through the tears. “And, Harry, it took you long enough.” 

    “Hey!” 

    “That’s what I told him, he’s getting old,” I snicker, finding his perturbed look makes me laugh, again. I’d laughed more in the last few minutes than I had in days, and it felt . . good. 

    “Double hey! Watch it, wifey.” 

    It comes with a grin and a drink of sunshine, “Okay, husband.” 

    I feel it fill me when the annoyance on his face is washed away by a content smile, one that only grows bigger when his mum turns to me with questions, and a notch wider when her hand comes to my belly. His not too far away. 

/

    I finally packed a bag, but you couldn’t have gotten me to go in our bedroom for any other reason besides that. Not even Skye could for more than the five minutes that took me. It had to have been a packing record, and one Harry would have been proud of. It didn’t get easier, the leaving him every night and coming back to him every morning, but we found a routine. That didn’t mean the difficulty disappeared at having to unwrap my hand from his at nine o’clock when he was already sleeping, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to once I slipped under my covers. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, and I did it again and again, day after day. 

    The tears crept up on me at times, like when Myles brought Rose and Jennings to see him, and Harry cried the second they walked in. They painted my cheeks like a waterfall when Asher showed up in the first few days, and once again when my dad returned before going back home. I wondered if they’d ever stop as I sat hunched over the toilet for what, a tenth morning in a row, wishing he could be there to rub my back like before. 

But we were so far from before, and still lengths away from the after. 

I still didn’t know if I could do this, despite the instructions, both printed and oral, and that I wasn’t alone. It felt like a rerun, knowing that I was supposed to be happy, but knowing nothing besides fear. Finding its place the second I got in the car, I doubted myself through and through. Not even reminding myself to be happy had helped, because the fear stole it away. 

He was home. I got to bring Harry home, snuggle him up on the sofa where the new headquarters was, and never have to go back to that hospital again. Well, not for a while, anyway. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” a voice murmurs, yanking me from my ever-consuming thoughts. Blinking, I find myself back in the present and in front of the television. Harry’s feet were cold in my hands despite the fuzzy purple socks I put on them before we left the hospital this morning. 

“Nothing,” I lie, leaving my eyes set on the news channel where I’d left them before zoning out. 

“You lie,” he sighs with a slight giggle, shifting on the sofa. “You look tired, bug. Why don’t we go and take a nap?”

“I’m fine.” 

“Again, you lie,” Harry huffs, his toe brushing against my hand. “I know ‘s already been a long day, Becks. Tha throwin’ up this mornin’, all tha instructions, and you haven’t had much t’ eat- well, that you’ve kept down,” Getting the cue, I drag my eyes over to him, failing to ignore how heavy they feel. 

The splashes of color across his face, and entire body, had faded in the last nine days. A few stitches had already been removed for more superficial cuts, but others still remained as well as the bandages taped to his shoulder and thigh. I’d been shown time and time again over the course of his hospital stay how to change them, and somehow, I still dreaded it. His mum had volunteered to do it if I couldn’t, but that only made me feel worse, as if I can’t say no. 

His name for me tickles my ears and I blink, his tired face focusing in my view. His cheeks were pink again, but only a dusty shade and so were his lips. It confused me, how they could send him home and he still didn’t look like himself. Yes, he did, but not really. I almost wanted to tell the doctors that they couldn’t, and what if I mess up taking care of him, but how could I say any of that? 

“Bug,” he tries again, voice holding more fervor now. 

“What?” I mumble, massaging my thumb against the arch of his foot. 

“I wanna go and take a nap with you.” 

There was another thing. He took care of me when I had my car accident, before I even came home. But, I’m smaller than him, and well, he’s quite larger than me. Getting him up off the sofa and to the downstairs guest bedroom took two of us, his mum and I. She had been cooking and cleaning since the minute we got Harry settled after coming home. I still didn’t know how to talk to her after everything, especially now with the baby at the front of my mind. It’d opened this door to tell her about them, but I felt as if it closed for me now with this new hurdle in the way. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to get any better with her staying in the upstairs guest bedroom. Don’t even get me started on how it was driving me up the wall the way the both of them worried about me and the baby. 

“I like tha name Renley. What d’ya think o’ it?” 

Slowly, he was coming to do most of the talking. For the first time in ever, I’d grown annoyed with it and how he wouldn’t shut up sometimes. But then I reminded myself that means he’s getting better and was improving. Guilt leached any happiness anyway when a thought came from nowhere, telling me I should be happy that he’s talking, that he’s alive. He sure was, making strides during physical therapy and being able to walk on crutches unassisted. It frightened me more than it excited me, and I wasn’t sure why. I felt as if there was a switch inside of me that I needed to turn on, flick it back to ‘normal’ instead. 

“I know yer not sleepin’ yet,” his voice is warm and slow against my cheek. “Rebecca.” Opening my eyes, they find him only a kiss away. 

“I think it reminds me of Renley Baratheon from Game of Thrones.” 

His breathy laugh dances across my cheek, and somehow, I smile. I think I manage one at seeing the dimples fall into his cheeks. 

“I think ‘s unique and pretty. Fer a boy or a girl.” 

Nodding replaces my voice and closing my eyes pulls me away from the eyes that I can’t lie to. 

“I thought you wanted to name them Annie if it’s a girl, like after your mum.” 

“I do, but what if ‘s a boy, Becks? We need some boy names too,” Harry muses, words swallowed by a yawn. “Mmm, think I like Eleanor too. There are so many nicknames you can make out of it, and I like those old names.” 

“Me too,” it’s a lazy murmur as his fingers start to comb through my hair, and then I know that I’m screwed. But I think for one of the first times in a long time, I fall asleep feeling safe, because of him beside me, with the smallest inkling of being okay. 

/

The night is still and so is the darkness that sounds of Harry’s soft snores. I’d woken up every night since that nightmare of a call, and even now, when he was finally back in the bed beside me, it happened again. Sure, it was the same bed I’d called my own for the last week and a half, but why now? That one word had been popping into my head often recently and punctuated with a question mark that was never answered. Why? My stomach was fine, so it wasn’t that, but what was it then? I hadn’t even had a nightmare- well, not yet, anyway. 

It was taking me awhile to believe that maybe my life didn’t have to be one anymore. Just maybe. 

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter sixteen.

wc: 2,172. original publish date: november 5, 2020. 

"You should put that in water," JFK says, pointing to the sunflower still tightly constrained in Van Gogh's grip. They're back at the house now, the picnic half unpacked on the kitchen table. Vincent puts down the flower only to wash his hands under the scalding water of the sink.

"Are there any vases here?" He asks.

Jack opens one of the cupboards above the sink, and pulls out a tall glass. "Here."

"That's not a vase," Van Gogh responds with a raised eyebrow, turning off the faucet and drying his hands on the rag hanging over the handle of the oven.

JFK reaches past Van Gogh to turn the faucet back on, making sure to turn the cold lever instead of the hot one. The glass fills up with water, and Kennedy holds it out to Vincent. "It serves the same purpose, doesn't it?"

Vincent swallows and slowly reaches out for the glass, taking it from JFK. Their fingers brush, and a warm blaze shoots through Van Gogh, but he doesn't let on. He simply drops the sunflower stalk into the water and holds the makeshift vase in both hands, clutching it to his chest defensively.

"Let's find a place for that, shall we?" John asks, placing a comforting hand on the shorter boy's shoulder. What's his angle? Vincent wonders, but doesn't wriggle free from the touch.

"I know a perfect place," Vincent says instead, looking up to JFK, but holding the flower just as defensively.

"You lead the way," Kennedy replies, his tone neutral and his smile warm.

Van Gogh raises an eyebrow. "Why do you wanna see?"

JFK shrugs. "I just like spending time with you."

Vincent hesitates. "You're just trying to make up for making me mad at you."

Kennedy doesn't move.

"I'm not still mad."

"Can't I just enthuse you for one second?"

Van Gogh swallows and nods. "Fine."

He leads JFK through the archway, through the living room, through the sitting room, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. Jack stops in the doorway, but Vinnie crosses past their bed and the dresser to the dormer window. He places the vase with the sunflower in it on the thick windowsill, tilting the flower's face to look out at the sun. He steps back to admire his work, and JFK smiles at the boy's silhouette painted in the electric white fog. His whole body relaxes and he feels his heart sigh. He's exactly where he's supposed to be.

"Let's never leave this town," John says.

Van Gogh turns around, all the tension gone from his face. He blinks slowly before letting himself smile, his brown eyes twinkling. "I'd be okay with that."

Vincent makes his way back across the room, leaving the sunflower on the windowsill. JFK stays where he's standing in the doorway, watching Van Gogh's fluid movements. He walks with a purpose, like he knows where he's going. John expects the shorter boy to walk over to him, but instead he walks over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and opens the top drawer. He turns around, feeling JFK's gaze still blazing into his back.

"What are you looking for?" Kennedy asks.

"Did you hide the matches?"

JFK blinks, his face relaxing again. The smile dissolves. "I didn't hide them, I just moved them."

"You took the candles, too."

"Why do you want them so badly?" John asks, his tone controlled and stoic.

Van Gogh stops what he's doing. He closes the drawer of his nightstand, holding eye contact with JFK the entire time. He walks up to the taller boy, crossing his arms over his chest once they're merely inches apart. Kennedy wishes he had some bubblegum.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't go through my things."

"Oh, but you're allowed to go through my phone?"

Van Gogh's eyebrows knit together, and his face warps with astonishment. He doubles back, trying to fit some pieces together in his head. "I didn't go through your phone."

"But you thought about it."

Vincent doesn't deny the accusation. "How'd you know?"

JFK scoffs. "Oh wow, so you really did think about it?"

Van Gogh's voice falls hopefully quiet. "Can't we have one nice day, Jack? Without any arguing?"

"This is about Ponce, though, isn't it?"

Vincent shrugs. He can't deny that, either.

"You really want me to stop talking to him that badly?"

Gogh shrugs, breaking eye contact ashamedly. "I just want him to know that you're not available."

JFK bursts out laughing, and Van Gogh squints in confusion when he doesn't sound devious. "Vincent, look around! He does know! Everyone knows! Everyone's always known, except for the two of us, apparently."

An unsure smile stretches across Vincent's lips. "People... noticed? They picked up on... signs? That we didn't even know were there?"

Kennedy shrugs, amused. "Apparently! He asked me why I wasn't in school, and I said not to worry because I was with you. And he asked what our 'deal' was, and I asked what he meant by that, and he said it was obvious there was something there with us. Something more than just friendship."

Vincent closes the gap between him and JFK by wrapping his arms around the taller boy.

"You have nothing to worry about, Vinnie."

"I'm really sorry," he whispers. "I'm really sorry."

Kennedy reciprocates the hug. "Shh, shh, darling. It's okay. I'm sorry I made you worry."

"I don't care about the matches," Van Gogh mumbles into JFK's chest. His sweater smells like the perfect mixture of sweat, deodorant, and washing detergent.

JFK takes a moment to respond. "You cared a second ago."

"I don't like people touching my stuff. You know that, Jack. That's one of the things I warned you about when you suggested that we live together, remember?"

Kennedy swallows before replying. "I'm sorry I took them."

"That's okay," Vincent says too quickly. "It really is okay."

JFK gives Van Gogh a kiss on the head and a reassuring squeeze before letting him go. "Come on, we should unpack our picnic."

John leads the way out of the bedroom, and Vincent follows him into the kitchen.

***

JFK wakes up in the middle of the night to Vincent sitting in the upholstered armchair in the far corner of the room. He has a lamp on, a novel spread across his lap. He doesn't look up, even when he hears Kennedy rustling the bedsheets.

"Vincent, what are you doing?" He asks groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as they adjust to the light.

Van Gogh looks up, slowly, as if he expected the question all along. "I'm reading."

"At two in the morning?"

Vincent shrugs. "I couldn't sleep."

JFK rolls out of bed and shuffles across the floor to his boyfriend. He crouches down in front of the boy, resting his hands on Vincent's thighs. "So that's why you wake me up. I'll help you sleep."

Van Gogh slips a thin bookmark into his novel and closes it, making eye contact with John. "I didn't want to disturb you. I know that you need your beauty rest."

JFK chuckles, his brown hair falling into his face. Vincent smiles and runs his fingers through the boy's hair. He prefers it like this, without all the spray and the gel. He likes John better when he's not trying to be anything at all.

Van Gogh giggles. "Actually, I think I like you better without all of your beauty rest."

Kennedy steps away from Vincent, now lost in thought. "Well, clearly you're awake... and I guess I'm up now..."

"Yes?" Gogh presses.

"Remember how when we first drove in, there were those houses with no roofs or floors or anything?"

Van Gogh nods in affirmation.

"I know it's the middle of the night, but what if we went out and found one of those houses? Went to lay on the grass and look at the stars?"

Vincent peers out the window. Even in the dead of night, he can tell that the sky is completely fogged over. "I don't think we'll be able to see any stars, Jack."

He grins in response. "Well, then, let's draw some!"

"I think I lost my sketchbook..." Van Gogh replies, but he's already made up his mind. He'll follow Kennedy anywhere.

"You don't need it, silly!" JFK says, tugging at Vincent's hand.

"It's freezing cold outside!"

"I'll keep you warm," John promises, and Vincent is out of arguments.

The boys grab some blankets from the dresser, and throw on their matching letterman jackets. JFK likes the way the jacket looks on the smaller boy, with his last name stitched across the back. They slide into the car eagerly, and Kennedy immediately turns on the seat heaters.

"Maybe it's colder than I thought it would be," he comments.

Van Gogh wraps his blanket tighter around himself. When he speaks, he can see his breath. "You think?"

JFK idles the car down the row of houses, choosing one that looks suitable and parking in front of it. This one looks like it was built with only one floor, and maybe it never had a floor at all. The ground is covered in damp grass, broken glass bottles and windows scattered about. The boys hop out of the convertible and push through the front door, the singular hinge creaking and threatening to give out. JFK feels a tickle in the back of his mind, urging him to rip the door free. It's not like anyone ever lived in this house anyway.

The two choose a nice spot on the grass, away from all the debris. The grass is wet in this corner of the house, so they lay down on top one of the blankets. Van Gogh, still cold even wrapped up in his own blanket, wraps himself around John and nuzzles his nose into the taller boy's neck. They lay in silence for a while, breathing in each others' scents and soaking up each others' warmth. JFK closes his eyes and has almost drifted back into sleep when Vincent breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry we always argue," he says, drawing circles with his finger into John's collarbone.

"Couples always argue."

"Not this early."

Kennedy goes silent, thinking over his answer. "No, not this early."

Van Gogh blinks, his eyes threatening to well up with tears. There's no reason to cry, he thinks. "Do you resent that?"

"Resent what?"

Vincent swallows, trying to keep his voice steady. "That we argue so much even though we aren't supposed to. Aren't supposed to yet."

John threads his fingers through the boy's orange hair. Even on the darkest night, it glows. "It's fine, Vinnie. We don't need to compare our relationship to anyone else's."

"But there are rules."

"What, the bullshit like how you have to wait three months to say 'I love you' and you can't start fighting until four months in, if you even make it that long?"

Van Gogh gives a small nod, realising how stupid it sounds out loud.

JFK chuckles and pulls the boy in closer. "We can make our own rules, you know."

"It's our rollercoaster..." Vincent starts.

Kennedy kisses the boy's forehead. "It's our rollercoaster," he agrees.

A couple minutes go by, but John doesn't let himself drift into sleep this time. He knows Vincent has more to say.

"I'm sorry I'm keeping you here," he says.

"You're not keeping me anywhere."

"We could continue our road trip," he offers. "Keep driving. That's what you wanted to do, right?"

JFK grins. "What I wanted to do was be with you."

"I'm sorry I got mad-"

"Shh," Kennedy hums. "Stop with the 'sorry's. You don't need to worry. Not with me."

"But I always worry," he whispers. "I told you it wasn't going to be easy."

"Hm?"

"Living with someone so obsessive-compulsive."

John shrugs. "I'd rather get used to it now, while we're young."

"You might get tired of it."

JFK scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. "Mm... no, I don't think I will. We've been friends since elementary school, Vincent. I've never gotten tired of it."

"But you haven't even seen the worst of it."

"Are you trying to convince me not to want you?" Kennedy asks, his face heating up. "Are you looking for a way out that you can blame on me?"

"Jack, that's not what I said-" Vincent cuts himself off, realising how his words had sounded.

"I'm sorry we always argue," John apologises after a moment of silence.

"You're doing it now, too," Vincent says. "My bad habits are rubbing off on you."

JFK shrugs. "There are worse influences, I guess."

"Like my dad."

"Clone, or foster?"

Van Gogh shrugs. "Both."

"I won't leave you alone," Kennedy whispers. "Not like them."

Vincent doesn't say anything for a while. And then, "I'm used to it by now."

"You don't deserve to be."

"It is what it is."

"I won't leave you," JFK says again.

Van Gogh doesn't respond.

Finally, he says, "I believe you."

[catb-fics]

Love Bites (Part 3)

Warnings: yep, there’s smut / Word Count: 2.8k

Read from Part 1    Read Part 2

"Do you wanna know a secret Y/N?" Van says, his voice low.

The rational part of your brain is telling you that he's playing a silly prank on you, but a tiny part of your mind is actually considering the ridiculous notion that Van might actually be something otherworldly. But that's just absurd. This isn't 19th century Transylvania for gods sake.

You don't trust yourself to speak so just nod and whisper, "Uh-huh..."

"I'm not like other guys."

No shit.

"What... do you mean?" You're curious, but wondering whether you do really want to know. What if Van's some kind of crazed psychopath and you've willingly walked into his lair?

He looks torn between whether to tell you or not, his brow furrows slightly and he catches his bottom lip in his teeth. Fuck... those incisors really do look sharp. Is he showing them off for your benefit? Maybe he's trying to scare you? You're suddenly overcome with uneasiness. You stand up quickly, and your heavy wooden chair skitters backwards across the stone floor with a screeching noise. You're trying to remain calm but you're pretty sure you're radiating panic. You pretend to look at your watch, like you've just realised that you have somewhere else to be.

"I think it's about time I got going home, thanks ever so much for the dinner."

You're not quite sure how it happens as you don't actually see Van rise up out of his chair, he just sort of materialises in front of you in the blink of an eye, and as he does so he whirls you around so you're pressed into the table with him towering over you. It happens so quick your head spins with confusion and a sizeable portion of fear now. Something is definitely VERY different about Van. You can see a darkness swirling in his eyes as he gazes down on you but despite your discomfort you can't look away. It's like he's cast a spell on you and you're helpless, trapped there between his body and the hard, unrelenting surface of the table. His hands are resting on the edge of the table on either side of your hips, ensuring that you can't slip away. But in any case you're not sure if you'd be able to even if your escape route was wide open.

"What if I were to tell you that all those stories you heard growing up were true? All the monsters you heard about as a kid? The creatures that dwell in the night..."

Fear floods your whole body, sending uncontrollable shivers through you. You hear a strangled high-pitched sound and realise it's actually coming from you. Instantly Van's features soften, a glimmer of warmth returns to his eyes. He reaches a cool hand up to gently rest on the side of your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheek.

"You don't need to fear me," he says, but the tremors still wrack you despite his assurances. You're now sure that Van's invited you here under false pretences and he truly means to harm you.

"What... are you?" You stutter.

He pauses and you suck in a breath.

"I'm a vampire..."

You were wholly expecting this, but it doesn't make the confirmation any easier to digest. You feel like your blood has turned to ice in your veins. Images run through your head, all the gothic horror books you've read, all the blood-thirsty Dracula films you've watched.

"Do you... do you... kill people?" You utter, frightened to know the answer but compelled to ask.

Van sighs, and steps back slightly. He glances down, shaking his head slightly like he's about to impart some bad news. You know what he's going to say before the words have left his lips. Dread sinks heavily in your gut.

"Y/N I don't want to lie to you," he says, and his eyes scan your face as he speaks, gauging your reaction. "I've done... bad things, really bad things. I've had to survive. There aren't many of my kind left... but times have changed. Don't believe everything you see in the movies."

Despite your trepidation your inquisitivity gets the better of you. You've always been fascinated by vampire folklore. Van's stance is more relaxed now too and you feel a small amount of tension leave your body. You boost yourself up to perch on the table, your hands in your lap and your legs dangling below.

"Well... I can see you're curious. What do you want to know?" A small smile plays on his lips, his fangs concealed for now.

Numerous thoughts flit through your head, and you can't settle on one. There are so many things you want to know. As soon as you start speaking the words tumble out.

"Do you sleep in a coffin? And can you only go out at night? Oh... and do crucifixes and garlic hurt you? What about a stake through the heart?"

Amusement is clear on Van's face as his smile widens. "You have been watching too many movies!" He muses. "I sleep in a bed actually. Garlic and crosses have no effect. And although I don't like the sun it won't harm me. Although have you seen the colour of my skin? I burn like anybody else. And I don't sparkle in the sunlight. I'm not Edward Cullen."

He chuckles then, a low, soft sound.

"What about the stake?"

He raises his brows. "Why do you want to know? Did you bring one with you tonight?"

"Of course not!" You actually find yourself smiling.

That's until you see his fangs again protruding slightly as he laughs. The realisation then floods you about what vampires actually do and the icy tendrils of fear start to creep up your back again.

Van appears up have read your thoughts. "I don't mean you any harm Y/N."

He moves closer and you feel his hands on your knees. He eases your legs apart firmly, stepping into the space there until he's merely inches away, his hair falling forward on to his face, masking his eyes briefly before he sweeps it back. They're burning with fire and and ice again as he speaks.

"But I do mean to have you."

You're locked in his gaze again and he leans in closer and closer until he's so near you can feel his warm breath on your face. You dimly wonder whether he's hypnotising you somehow, but then maybe he doesn't need to. In spite of everything you want him so badly. Every fibre of your being seems attuned to him as his fingertips brush your thighs just below the hem of your skirt, lightly drawing patterns on your skin.

"You can have me..." The words just slip out and Van needs no further encouragement. Your mouths collide, the soft skin of his full lips urgently pressing into yours. Your tongues entwine and he tastes like the red wine you've both been drinking. The kiss is sensual and deep, and even though Van's pressed up right against you it's not close enough. You clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer.

Eventually you pull away, breathless, as you feel Van's cool fingers slide under the hem of your top. He begins to tug it up over your body and you let him, raising your arms so he can pull it over your head. He casts it down on the floor, letting his eyes roam across your half naked form. You feel self-conscious and start to raise your hands up to cover your breasts but Van stops you, taking your wrists firmly in his hands and pressing them to your sides.

"Don't cover yourself, you're beautiful," he tells you. "God I want you so bad..."

Even as the words escape him he's leaning in to you, his lips brushing your neck. He explores all over the skin there with kisses which start off feather-light but progressively get more passionate, his lips puckering against your skin, hard enough to leave bruises. It feels so good but you can't let yourself go, tensing every time his teeth graze your sensitive flesh.

"You need to relax Y/N, it'll be so much better for you if you relax," he breathes in your ear.

"You're telling me to relax when you want to drink my blood? I'm scared."

He pulls away on hearing your words and takes your hands, entwining his fingers through yours. "Don’t be scared.... Come on, I'm taking you up upstairs."

His movements are so fluid, so graceful, all of a sudden he's scooped you up off the table, holding you bridal style. You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck. "Keep your eyes on me," he says.

You're dimly aware you're moving as you see things flicking past your peripheral vision and the sensation is almost like floating. You do as instructed and keep your eyes on Van, marvelling as you come to a stop within moments and you take a look around to find you're in a large room somewhere else in the house. The room is empty apart from a grand four poster bed and Van carries you over, gently setting you down on the soft, white sheets.

You can't tear your eyes away from him as he stands over the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and letting it slip to the floor. The only light in the room is the moonlight filtering through the window and Van's pale skin looks almost luminous. You push yourself up on your elbows as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

"I'm frightened. Will it hurt? And what happens if you can't stop yourself?"

He pushes his jeans down and then he's just in his underwear as he climbs on to the bed. His movements seem feline as he crawls over to you, and it makes you think of a predator stalking its prey.

Is it possible his fangs have gotten longer? His lips are slightly drawn back as he looks at you, eyes pooling again with that darkness, but his voice is soft when he speaks.

"Y/N you're going to have to trust me. I'll try my hardest not to hurt you. I want this to be pleasurable for you too."

He reaches for the waistband of your skirt, easily locating the zip and you lift your hips off the bed slightly to allow him to pull it down with your underwear in one swift movement.

He moves until he's hovering over you on the bed, gazing down on you, his eyes moving hungrily over every inch of you.

"Mmm... I don't even know where to start with you..."

But he doesn't wonder for long. His head dips down to the base of your neck, kissing and licking all over, his hair tickling your skin. Then he gradually trails down, your nipples instantly stiffening under his touch as he takes each one in turn into his mouth. The feel of his teeth grazing your skin is a constant reminder of his hunger for you as he lavishes all his attention on your breasts until you're starting to squirm on the bed from the sensation, your hands raking through his hair.

Finally he raises his head, his voice low and seductive as he speaks. "Y/N... I need to taste you... I can't hold off any longer."

You're so aroused that every nerve in your body is bristling. You reach down and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and start to tug them down. Getting intimate with a guy you've only just met isn't your style at all, but all your usual reservations have gone out the window with Van. You're so desperate to feel him inside you that you find yourself reaching down for his erection and guiding him to you, the groans of pleasure that escape him fuelling your need for him all the more.

He starts off gently, taking his time with you, easing into you gradually to allow you time to adjust to the feeling before he starts to move his hips slowly and precisely against yours. But suddenly, after a few thrusts into you he pauses, looming over you, breathing deeply, gazing down on you with an animalistic look about him, eyes blazing, teeth bared.

"Van... please don’t!” You utter, fear instantly flooding you, but it's too late.

He closes in on you with lightening speed and there's a feeling of intense pressure on your neck for an instant before your delicate skin yields to his fangs and a sharp shock of pain shoots through you. You cry out, your whole body going into spasm. But the pain is short-lived. It's soon replaced with a strange kind of euphoria that heightens all of your senses. It's almost like you can hear your own heart thudding in your chest whilst the blood's being drawn from your body. Every nerve receptor in your body seems to go into overdrive and the sensations you're feeling are amplified, the depth of Van's thrusts, the delicious sensation of his body moving against yours, creating friction where you need it the most. You can feel the pressure starting to build deep down inside and you push your hips up further to meet his, your bodies colliding in sync.

You gasp his name, clinging on to him, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as you pull him to you as close as you can. All the time his lips are feverishly pressed against your neck whilst he drinks from you, his breath ragged and hot whilst he pounds into you.

You're ascending to heights you've never reached before, your orgasm not just simmering between your thighs but radiating throughout your whole body and then it hits you. A crescendo so intense that your whole body convulses. You let out a moan, wrapping your legs around Van's waist as he bucks into you with all he's got. Suddenly he withdraws his fangs from your neck as he throws his head back, letting out a groan of pure pleasure as he spills into you a moment later. Then his body goes slack as he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

You're temporarily stunned, your body still quivering from the aftershocks. You blink a few times, but your vision is blurred, and when you try to move your limbs feel heavy.

"Van?" You whisper, wondering what happens now.

He finally stirs, raising up and to the side and propping himself up on an elbow, leaning over you closely. His eyes fix on yours and they're mesmerising still but for once you're not looking at them. You're staring at his mouth, or more precisely what's around it. There's so much blood, it's coating his lips and smeared across his chin and you watch, unsettled, as he licks it from his lips like he's savouring the taste.

Now you've come back down to earth you start to feel panic bubbling up in your gut as the reality of what's just happened hits you. You can feel droplets of blood trickling down your neck still and you shoot out a hand to press against your wounds but Van catches your hand.

"Allow me," he says, leaning into your neck again, and you feel his tongue warm against your skin as he licks up every last drop. "You're fucking delicious you know..."

What if he wants more? You smile uneasily, trying to push yourself up on your elbows but your head spins and you collapse back on to the bed, wrung out. “I don't feel so good," you groan.

A thought occurs to you that in your weakened state it wouldn't take long for Van to finish you off. There's absolutely nothing you could do about it. You'll just have to lie there and let him take what he wants from you. You suddenly feel so exhausted that you're struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Y/N? Y/N?" You can hear Van's voice but it sounds far away, and then his face swims into view as he leans closer. "You're weak, you need to rest," he says softly.

"Am I dying?" You say, feeling strangely detached from all that's around you.

You hear Van laugh, a soft chuckle as he reaches over to brush a lock of hair back off your face and then his hand lingers there, stroking your cheek tenderly.

"No love, of course not. Now sleep. I'll be here for you when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere."

So you fall asleep, dimly aware of his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

THE END 🧛‍♂️ 💕

Sorry the ending's a bit shit! May come back to this story one day (when I've finished off my million other unfinished stories!!)

[elareine]

These stars will guide us home (DamiTim)

Amsterdam is a beautiful city, Damian supposes, old buildings, canals, and so much smuggling. He’d think it prettier if it wasn’t for the group that brought him here.

They are the sort of people his grandfather would have approved of, bound to each other and their common goal and not much else. A life does not mean anything if it is spent for the cause. There is very little left to connect Damian to who he truly is.

Well. There is his phone.

Tim is his contact on this mission. Truthfully, Damian does not mind. He trusts the older man to have his back.

During the first few months, any contact is dangerous. Damian is closely monitored. Still, there is a secure chat app on his phone, and he makes occasional use of it to report. Tim always responds within minutes.

The mission is going well. I was introduced to one of the less important smugglers today. His name is Aart Jansen.

Files say low lever dealer. Not where we want to be but a start.

Damian nods. That’s about what he expected.

Unexpectedly, Tim follows that up with: & apart from work? 

Maybe Dick is standing behind him.

I find it difficult to occupy myself. He is a diamond appraiser to these people. Damian has been trained well enough in the subject to pass, but his intellect remains unchallenged, and the slightly-downtrodden façade he’s meant to keep up the rest of the time does the rest.

How’s tv?

Damian snorts. No.

Hey it’s a good distraction!!

Too much Disney.

id have thought you’d go for the talking animals  🐕 🐴 🦁

Animals don’t talk. That’s the point.

Spoilsport is followed by: go read a book then

I am. Damian allows himself a tiny grin.

what are you reading then?

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. A classic.

Damian waits for an answer, a snide remark about being snobbish, perhaps, but there’s nothing until a terse gotta go arrives. With a sigh, he goes back to his book and tries not to worry.

so I read a few chapters

Damian blinks at the text. It takes him a moment to remember what Tim is talking about; even longer to decide on what to answer. Did you like it?

‘Your children are not your children, they are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself.’ <<< Bruce should read that

He has. It has not helped him.

Tim ignores that. Is the idiom close to Arabic?

Yes. It’s one of the reasons Damian loves this work. The author was Lebanese and came to the US.

They keep talking about it, sharing their thoughts as they read over the days to follow. Eventually, Damian scrounges up the courage to text Tim: It’s nice to talk about it with someone while I read.

When the answer arrives, it’s not what Damian expects. You know we can get you out anytime, right? It wouldn’t be a failure.

Of course it would be. To have come so far and abandon the mission for something as negligible as homesickness… who does Tim think Damian is?

Damian does not reply, and Tim seems to drop it.

Six days later, there is something in the mail. Damian thinks it’s one of the countless government forms he’s had to fill out ever since he arrived; that’s how well the forgery’s been committed.

There is a form inside. There’s also a picture of his family, taken before Damian left. It was Dick’s birthday, Damian remembers; he made everyone go out for dinner and wear some stupid party hats. At the time Tim took the picture, Steph had decided to get into a chopstick war with Jason over the last dim sum, never mind that they were at an all-you-can-eat restaurant.

Damian stares at himself laughing and wills that feeling back.

“Is it safe to talk?”

Damian considers the question. It is made complicated because he wants the answer to be ‘Yes’ so badly.

“I think,” he says carefully, “they are lessening their surveillance. I am not followed home or during the day unless I leave the city. There have been no new bugs. And I have re-routed this conversation to make it appear like I’m talking to a French student I have been talking to at the art museum.”

“They will approve of that,” Tim says, and Damian tries not to feel gratified at the near-praise. “It will give them something to blackmail with.”

“Of course, she is actually from Poland, merely traveling through Paris.”

That gets him a laugh. “I would have expected nothing less.”

So they talk. Sometimes, late at night for Tim and too early for Damian, they watch movies together. Turns out, Damian likes Disney movies a lot better when Tim takes them apart the entire time.

There’s a video in his inbox. Judging by the timestamp, it was sent sometime at 8 a.m. in Gotham. That’s practically before bedtime for Tim, Damian thinks wryly.

He clicks play.

“Shh,” someone says. The room is dimly lit, but Damian can make out shapes on the couch. There’s a glint of red. Jason?

With near-silent footsteps, Tim (because who else) moves closer. That’s indeed Jason, obviously asleep on the couch, sitting up with his helmet still on and head tilted back. Duke is sitting next to him, head slumped onto Jason’s chest. That cannot be comfortable with all the plating, surely? On Jason’s other side, Steph and Cass are lying tightly intertwined, their heads resting on his thighs.

The camera draws back and moves on. Damian is impressed with how steady Tim managed to keep it. He must have some experienced in film-making, or perhaps photography.

The kitchen door is the next one to open. “Alfred, say hi to Damian!”

The butler looks up from where he’s forming scones. “Hello, Master Damian. I think you will be pleased to find that your newest… acquisition… is settling in quite well.” Tim zooms in on the black kitten hiding behind the bowl of dough. As he leaves the room, he whispers: “He loves her. I have it on good authority that she sleeps on his chest.”

There’s silence for a moment as Tim moves through the corridors, through the grandfather clock and down a path Damian could take in his sleep.

“And now, the grand finale,” Tim announces, “the Batman reveals himself!”

The camera turns to Bruce… who is very much scowling. Or, well, trying to, as one convincingly one can when one has Dick Grayson leaning on your shoulder, snoring and definitely leaving some slobber. Damian knows the feeling. Dick occasionally keeps going for so long that he’ll konk out on the nearest warm body, still clad in his uniform.

“Oh, no! Abort, abort, abort!” There’s some dramatic clatter, the camera falls down and then turns off. Damian guesses it’s some reference to a horror movie he hasn’t seen.

It’s silly, but Damian cannot stop himself from smiling for the rest of the night.

They text more and more often and talk on the phone almost every night, even if it’s just a quick check-in. Still, there is a longing in him. Tim has sent him pictures and videos, has talked to him for hours, but Damian has not seen his face in six months. That seems intolerable, now.

So Damian draws.

It’s a good one, he thinks. Tim, holding his camera, only half-visible but so glaringly alive. Damian didn’t realize how much he looks at Tim before he drew every strand of his hair from memory.

(Does it still look like that? Are there any new scars to join the faint one under Tim’s eye and the ones lacing through his scalp? Damian wants to know and does not know how to ask.)

He knows when Tim receives it because there are no texts for almost twenty hours. Then he gets a call.

Tim’s voice is carefully neutral. “You sent me a drawing.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“It is a thank-you,” Damian offers, “and… an apology.”

“Oh,” Tim says as if he expected something else. He doesn’t ask what Damian is apologizing for. They both know all too well. But he does tell him: “It’s beautiful.”

It feels like crossing a river. Damian likes it.

Tim sends more photographs through their secure chat after that. Some are frame-worthy, some are the worst (best) kind of candid. When Damian tries to reciprocate, he does it the easiest way he can think of: He sends Tim a picture of his poffertjes.

waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant

Damian offers I could teach you how to make them without thinking.

Seriously? :D I’ll call you in fifteen

He meant ‘When I come back,’ but… this will have to do. Seeing Tim on the screen, trying desperately to heat the cooking fat to the right temperature as he plops the sticky dough in, is enough to make up for not being able to touch him.

It’s the first time they do a video call, but it’s not the last.

When Tim has to leave on a mission of his own for a week, he leaves Damian with the link to the surveillance cameras surrounding the place he’s staying at. Damian doesn’t worry about him, precisely—doing so would be foolish, since Tim has more than proven himself capable—but it makes him feel better to watch him walk past at least once a day, nonetheless.

Damian does not experience nightmares often. When he does, they’re short and very violent.

“Damian?” Tim’s voice is worried, as it should be. Damian texted him Good night. barely an hour ago.

“I’m fine,” Damian manages to grind out.

Tim gets it immediately. “I’ll switch on video, okay?”

Damian knows he looks a mess. He says, “Yes,” nonetheless.

“Hey,” Tim says softly when he comes into view. “You wanna tell me about it?”

Damian shakes his head, and Tim… talks. About everything and nothing. What he and Kon got up to on his last visit to Metropolis. Steph’s new fashion fad (it’s green, and it does not work with her skin at all.) How Bruce rounded up one criminal organization and accidentally crashed the mayor’s gambling den during the proceedings.

Eventually, Damian nods, and Tim trails off with a smile.

It’s late afternoon in Gotham, but Tim curls up on his bed and carefully places the phone against a pillow so he and Damian can still look at each other. There’s an intensity in his gaze that Damian doesn’t completely understand, not yet, but he likes it.

His eyes fall shut when Tim’s do. To his surprise, the sound of Tim’s gentle breaths actually lets him drift back to sleep.

Tim starts a list. Things like ‘check out that new Chinese place on 32nd street’ and ‘watch Into the Spiderverse’ go along with ‘beat you with my new staff.’ He encourages Damian to fill it out, too, and he adds ’take Ace Jr on a walk’ and ‘make Jason recite Shakespeare.’

One day, there’s a new item on a list. ‘Go on a date with you.’

Not once in his life did Damian think he would come to value a grocery list app this much.

Tim sends him a sweater that smells of him. Damian wears it as he wraps up the book he wants them to read next. There’s an illustration on the first page—two hands reaching out, linking their pinkies across the distance. He drew it hoping it will say everything he can’t tell Tim yet.

A few more weeks and Damian will take that plane home. He’ll say it in person, then.