#I NEED TO BE NORMAL OR I WILL SHRIVEL AND DIE.

[gongedtornado]

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[sophieswundergarten]

Guess what it's my blog and we're going to talk about the Waiting Room now.

In the show, it seems rather boring at first glance. However, this is a LIE because they want to throw you off. There's only one chair, and it has a short leg. There's a weird spirograph-type piece of art on the wall. There's a fish tank, for some reason. There's a bunch of very strange shelves. And there's a giant clock on the wall. THIS IS NOT ALL. The normal entry door is invisible due to the paneling, and the back wall MOVES. It is also possible the clock moves to create loss of time and the floor slants, although these might be stress-induced hallucination. It is a perfectly designed horror liminal space, and, depending on who you put in there and why, I'm fairly certain it can be defined as psychological torture. It evokes the same kind of discomfort and lack of control that a convict being placed in solitary confinement experiences.

HOWEVER

In the books, it is entirely different, and arguably worse. Again, depending on the person. In the books, it is a completely dark room full of slimy black mud that isn't thick enough to stand on. It is also a very deep pit of mud, so anyone who enters for a period of time slowly starts sinking. It also has bugs in it.

Now. If you are not the type of person who is terrified of who you are waiting for, or if you are a person who typically enjoys defying the conventional, the show version shouldn't be much of an issue. The chair doesn't work? Find a way to fix it, or sit on the floor. The room is obviously set up so you have to face whoever is going to enter? Face the other direction. Look at the fish. Sit on the really weird and randomly empty shelves. There are many things that can be done physically about what the room is doing to you mentally. It is also easier for the people who are putting you through this ordeal to rationalize. "It's just an oddly decorated waiting room. There's nothing that bad about waiting"

But the book version is another story. One that I have many questions about. One, we learn later on that the mud is created and maintained by the room being connected to an underground stream. (It takes a long time to swim/dig through the mud and other obstacles to reach the stream, so it is not a viable escape option for anyone but Milligan) It also, as previously mentioned, houses a lot of bugs. We do not know what kind of bugs these are. And yet, since they are alive, they must be living off of something in there. Most bugs cannot just live off of mud. So, either the Executives are having to refresh the bug population from time to time (And where would they get the bugs? Do they collect them? Does Curtain purchase them and have them shipped to the island? Does no one question this?) Or the Waiting Room is its own mainly self-contained ecosystem. My prevailing tentative theory is that it was designed for research/as a science experiment and then either abandoned until Curtain needed somewhere to keep people or he deliberately made the decision that it was part of his interrogation methods for the agents he captured (before he brainswept them) and then he simply extended the use to interrogating students.

BUT ALSO

How did Curtain in the book convince teenagers/young adults to leave children in there? It is an entirely different ballgame to tell someone (especially a younger person who hasn't quite got the morals beaten out of them yet) that it is completely safe and not at all detrimental to leave ELEVEN YEAR OLDS in a pitch-black room of slimy mud and unknown creatures for any period of time! That must have left some damage to the Executives, or maybe they had already experienced it and were afraid to be threatened with it again. Either way, that's such a terrifying thing to anyone, especially a child, and especially since they seemed to choose to leave kids in there overnight (Maybe so it wouldn't interfere with too many classes?) and they wouldn't get any sleep. AND THEN the meaner Executives and Curtain would GASLIGHT THEM. "It's not such a bad place" "Nobody likes to wait, but it didn't hurt you" "Waiting can be unpleasant, but sometimes there's no help for it" and whatever else they said. We don't even hear about the Waiting Room from Sticky or one of the other kids who've been sentenced; they just get extremely upset and start crying.

What I'm saying is, while it was a very clever narrative tool and an unconventional way to raise stakes without causing physical harm to children, I can see why it was toned down for the show. However, I think it is a fascinating bit of plot that can be examined in a lot of different ways.

[pa-pa-plasma]

ah. just found out why i hate the whole "our attention spans have been ruined by modern technology" thing. it's because all the "symptoms" they're calling pathetic & sad & rage-inducing is literally just ADHD. that's my brain. like. that's how i live, phone or not. i guess we're just reinventing "you have to be looking the teacher in the eye to show them you're paying attention or else detention" then?

[ame-to-ame]

love being nd and have the tism wolf Inside me be so drastically uncomfortable with uncertainty that i physically cannot think about school and having to deal w the unknown of that whole situation without losing 5lbs in 2 days

[pears-trinkets]

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[brucewaynehater101]

That Wingless Wing AU, I’m guessing that it’s probably like a 25-75 of whether people have wings or not? Because otherwise Jack and Janet wouldn’t hate the idea of wings, because they’d be normal, expected.

Anyway, what would the wings look like? Would they be regular bird wings? Angel wings? Bat wings? Dragon or devil wings? Any and all combinations? What do you think everyone’s wings would look like, and is there any meaning behind them?

Also, if the Joker removed Tim’s wings, I can only guess that it would leave a NASTY couple of scars. It would be easy enough to hide them… at least until Tim gets injured. How do the Batfam react when they realize what happened?

Finally, you specifically used the word “hybrid” to refer to winged people. Does that mean they have other instincts/characteristics, and are there other types of hybrids?

(Sorry it’s such a long ask!)

Og post for anyone who wants to check it out!

Fantastic questions! Let's get into it ^^

I didn't think about specifics for winged/hybrid population distribution, but it would be on the lower side. Less than 50%, but you could play the Drakes' attitude as a common sentiment of rich folk (something about dehumanization, lack of rights, history, increased prevalence of hybrids, etc).

In Gotham, the social attitude about hybrids is better. The Waynes are famous for their wings, after all, and Martha Wayne had gorgeous wing decorations/jewelry.

As far as wing type, it depends on how far you want the AU to go. For this one specifically, it's simpler for there to only be winged hybrids. This still opens the AU for tons of exploration on the types of wings each person has (although, I'm curious if Penguin is a hybrid and how that works).

Overall, their instincts/needs/behaviors are similar. There may be some small distinctions (like wing type care or personality), but they all desire connection, a nest (both in a metaphorical "home" sense and a physical cuddling space), helping their loves ones, preening, and calls/coos/vocal stuff (not all of them are birds). Add more if you'd like!

Dick's wings are colorful. He's also more vocal and cuddly. He's often cooing and being physically affectionate with others (such as rubbing his face against someone else like some birds do).

Jason's were white. Because of his inability to take care of them, they were grey/dirty and wilted at first. If you want to hc the Lazarus Pits gave him his wings back, then they came back black (like a crow or raven).

Oof.... So I know I said Joker saw Tim as a bird with his wings... But I really love the idea of Tim having dragon wings. They had holes and were shriveled due to his constant disuse and the amulet. The wings he makes for Robin are mechanical bird ones, but he does miss his own wings.

Cass isn't a hybrid, but she does understand the others' instincts. She gets eerily good at mimicking different calls and will be first to drag someone into the nest.

Steph has gorgeous bird wings that are one vibrant color. Purple sounds like a cop out, so maybe a midnight blue or deep pastel yellow.

Damian and all of the al Ghuls have bat wings. Bruce, on the other hand, has red wings that he uses black temp die for patrols.

Jim Gordon doesn't have wings. He would not have made it to Commissioner if he did (anti-hybrid sentiment has gotten better, but not enough). I can't decide if Barbara should have wings or not. Either way, she can't use them when she becomes paralyzed :(

Duke's wings are either orange or yellow with cool black highlights and patterns to them ^^

Alfred is not a hybrid, but he was in a thruple with Martha and Thomas Wayne. He helped them with their preening and helped Bruce (and later all the batkids) as well

I could give all of them specific meanings behind their wings/what animal they are closest to, but not now. Instead! Let's get into Tim's scars.

TW: wing removal, torture, JJ

The Joker was not kind nor careful about the removal. The pain and gore were as much the point as the removal themselves. Tim still wakes up choking on his breath over the feeling of his wings being removed. The physical pain, emotional, and hybrid instinct hell were brutal for the kid.

The scars were gnarly, but his parents paid for treatments to lessen how much they etched into Tim's skin. By the end, they were a bit thinner and paler. They were still very visible but not as painful to look at.

For humor and angst sake, let's say the batfam learns about Tim's missing spleen. He shows off the scar and shrugs.

The others are having a reasonable breakdown over Tim losing his spleen when one of them asks, "Have you lost any more body parts?"

Tim pauses too long.

The Bats freak out some more.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Are your requests open? I would love to request a dad!carlos fic if you feel like it ❤️ also side note, I’m not a huge Max fan but your baby fever fic literally had me kicking my feet and giggling so well done

Picture of Perfection - Carlos Sainz

<word count - 9785>

If you were being honest with yourself, you shouldn't have been in work today. You had never felt worse, and it was really putting a damper on your performance. You had been Fred Vasseur's assistant since he had replaced Binotto at Ferrari, and your job was pretty easy.

You sorted his schedule and his emails into different sections. But today, you couldn't even muster the energy to respond to the numerous unimportant emails that Fred received on a daily basis. Your head was throbbing, you felt sick to your stomach, and you wished you could shrivel up into a ball and die.

As the phone rung, the shrill ringtone felt like a nail being tapped into your skull with every note, and you were sure your head was going to explode. Picking up the call wasn't at the top of your to do list, but if it stopped the ringing, then it was worth it.

"You're speaking to Y/N, how can I help?" you said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. As long as people didn't look at you, there was no way to tell that you felt like you were dying. "I think you're the one that needs help," a voice chuckled, and relief flooded you when you heard it.

"Did you call to talk to Fred, or to make fun of me, Carlos?" You asked your oh so sympathetic fiance. "We have our fun, but I was calling to check up on you. How are you feeling, querida?" he asked, his tone changing to a slightly more soft one.

"I'm fine, just a little rough. I'll bring your lunch down in a few," you said, checking the time on your computer. "You really don't sound fine," he pressed, but he had bigger things to focus on today. Him and Charles were testing out some upgrades on the car.

"I will be after lunch, I'm sure. Can you ask Charles if he wants anything as well?" You said, walking to the canteen. Carlos knew you wouldn't be fine, but he would wait to see you to make his final decisions about what he would do with you.

You heard some muffled voices through the phone, before Carlos said, "Yeah, get him the same as me, I'll see you in a minute," he said, putting the phone down. You trudged down to the canteen and picked up the food for the pair of them.

As you walked, people cast dubious glances in your direction. You knew you felt awful, but it was apparent that you weren't looking great either. You kept your head held as high as you could as you wandered down to the garage, and found Carlos and Charles sat by their cars as the mechanics adjusted some things.

"Lunch is served," you smiled, painting on your best poker face. But, there were cracks running through from the start, and Carlos saw straight through it. They both thanked you as you handed them their lunch, and you stepped to stand back beside Carlos.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong," Carlos said, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the cars and machines that the engineers and mechanics were running. "I promise, I'm OK," you reassured him. He knew that was a lie, and so did everyone around you.

Your skin was paler and your eyes looked sunken. You were also looking more dishevelled than normal, since you were usually quite bright and bouncy. "If you don't tell me what's wrong, then I can't help you," he said, looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

His fingers slowly trailed up and down your spine as you stood next to him, and you felt a wave of nausea rush over you. The smell of the oil, the fuel and burning rubber caused your stomach to twist in knots, and you firmly gripped your hand onto Carlos' shoulder to steady yourself. You were slightly dizzy and unsteady on your feet.

"Hey, hey, sit down for a second," he told you, standing up and gently pushing you towards the seat he had just vacated. Sitting down was arguably the last thing you needed right now. Your eyes darted around the garage, hunting something down that would be the best option to spill your guts into.

Nothing checked out.

Your last option was to sprint to the bathrooms at the back of the garage, and you came up with all of this in around a second. Your mind had never worked so fast. Within a blink of an eye, you had run all the way across the garage, hand firmly pressed against your mouth.

"Shit," you heard Carlos say behind you as his footsteps followed you closely. You barged through the ladies room and into the first open stall. Everything that you had eaten throughout the day exited your body in a violent wretch, and your throat was left burning and raw.

"You're OK, just let it out," Carlos said, rubbing your back and pulling your hair out of the way. You looked up at him, concern written all over his face. "You guys OK?" you heard Charles shout, confused at how fast everything had gone south.

"Could you pass me a water, please?" Carlos called back, going to the door to catch it. Throwing it might not have been the best idea, but it certainly was the quickest. He cracked it open, before handing it to you.

"Thanks," you said, your voice scratchy and hoarse as you spoke. The taste of it still lingered on your tongue and it was far from pleasant. "I'll go get your stuff, then I'll drive you home," he said, handing you some paper towels from the dispenser.

"I'll be fine, it'll pass," you said, taking a sip from the water.

"No, you need to go home," he said, taking a step towards you. You were never sick, so this was unusual. He would be more worried about you if you were at work, because you'd be more comfortable at home.

You took another sip of your water. "Honestly, Carlos, I'll be fine in-," you started, before hunching back over the toilet. It was just straight water, and your body was rejecting everything you put in it. "You were saying?" he teased, leaning against the sinks.

You just looked at him, discomfort etched onto your features. "Come on, you're going home," he said, gently taking your elbow. "I can drive myself, you've got important stuff to do," you said, not wanting to interrupt his day.

"I'm on break for an hour, that's enough time to get you home," he said, his heart aching to see you like you were. "OK, I'll go and tell Fred I'm going,"

"I'll take care of all that, you just go to the car and I'll get your stuff," he told you, leading you out of the bathroom and back through the garage. "You alright?" Charles asked, realising how much worse you looked in the pan of five minutes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," you weakly smiled at him.

"I'll be back in a bit," Carlos told him as he helped you walk out to the car. You sat in the passenger seat, actually quite glad to be going home. Carlos went to get your things, and came back to the car. "When we get home, you're going straight to bed," Carlos said.

"Sure, dad," you laughed, the motion of you giggling making your stomach churn. You closed your eyes for a minute, waiting for it to pass. "Just breathe, baby," he told you as if you hadn't already tried that.

"Easier said than done," you said, gripping your thighs to try and take the edge off, to focus your mind on something else. Without another word, Carlos took one of your hands and threaded his fingers through yours as he drove home. His thumb subconsciously ran up and down, just out of habit.

You pulled up outside your house, slowly stepping out of the car. You took another moment to steady yourself, the dizziness returning. "Take it steady, take it steady," Carlos softly instructed, looping an arm around your waist as he walked you inside.

"Couch or bed?" Carlos asked as you stood in the entrance hall.

"Couch, it's close to the kitchen and the bathroom," you said as he sat you on the couch.

"You want to get changed?" He asked. He had this compulsion inside of him to take care of you. Seeing you uncomfortable made him uncomfortable. It was like this itch inside his brain that couldn't be scratched unless you were happy.

"The less moving involved, the better," you said, flopping down on the couch and not wanting to move from your position. "I'll see what I can do," he nodded, ascending up the stairs and rooting through the drawers to find what he was looking for.

Yes, it was his hoodie, but you wore it more than him. He would wear it once, then it was yours for the taking. "Here, do you want a drink?" He said, passing you the hoodie. You slipped it over your head, not bothered to take off your clothes from work.

"No thanks, it would come back to bite me anyway," you told him, bringing your knees up to your chest as you settled against the armrest of the couch. "You need to stay hydrated, you'll feel worse if you don't," he said, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a glass of water.

"I'll try," you said. Carlos picked a blanket up from the back of the couch and draped it over you, making sure you were cosy. "You need anything else before I go?" He asked, not wanting to leave you by yourself. This was one of those days where you would benefit from his presence, from him holding you.

"I don't think so, I'll see you later," you tried to smile, not wanting him to be late for the end of lunch break. Charles would be waiting for him and so would everyone else. "OK, call me if you need me, alright?" He said, approaching you and kissing you on the forehead.

"I will," you said, picking up the TV remote and pressing the 'on' button. You shifted around for a second, before finding your comfy position. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he called, closing the door and heading back to the factory.

After around an hour, you tried sipping at the water, but it just came back up after a few minutes. As the movie you were watching came to a close, you were left in silence after the entire credits had rolled.

You were left thinking. You hadn't been feeling too great for the last few days, but this was the worst of it. It didn't take much thinking for you to come to a conclusion. There were a few factors that added to it too.

Surely not though, right? And this wasn't the time for that. You and Carlos hadn't been engaged for that long, and you weren't thinking about that now. Maybe in a few years, yes, but definitely not now.

You sat there, fighting with yourself in your mind, feeling sicker with worry than you did with nausea. You told yourself you were being silly, and that you were just jumping to the most drastic conclusion possible.

Everything was going to be fine.

Carlos, on the other hand, was worried sick about you for a whole other reason. He thought you were sick, like, sick sick. Not the kind of sick you thought you were. He thought you had a stomach bug, but not a literal one.

Him and Charles had another quick, fifteen minute break to sit and have a drink while the mechanics tinkered on some things. "Is Y/N alright?" Charles asked, glugging some more water down. "Yeah, she'll be fine. It's probably just a bug or something,"

"You sure?" Charles questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. "She's been off for what, nearly two weeks?" he said, referring to your numerous complaints about different ailments you had.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Carlos dismissed. You'd be right as rain again in a couple of days, that's what he kept telling himself. "You two have plenty of fun, just think about it," Charles smirked.

"No, no, mhm," Carlos shook his head in embarrassment, "I know what you're implying, but no," he rushed. "That you get up to a lot or what could be up with Y/N?"

"Both," Carlos said, standing and leaving Charles by himself. He couldn't think about either of those things right now.

--

"Carlos, is that you?" You called out, trying to act like everything was fine and you were feeling better. Well, you were feeling better, but you were just anxious. "Yeah, it's me," he said, walking into the living room and sitting on the couch next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel alright, but the water came straight back up when I tried drinking it," you explained, not able to meet his eyes. He could tell there was something wrong by your body language. You were stiff and your hands were fidgeting.

"Come on, what's wrong?" he pressed, and you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face. "Nothing, I feel fine," you told him, shrugging your shoulders.

"Then what's really wrong?" he asked, grabbing your chin and turning your head so that you were looking at him. You didn't want to tell him. You didn't want him to be mad. This wasn't part of the plan.

You whispered what you wanted to say, but so quietly it was unintelligible. You weren't even sure you had fully formed legible words. "Louder, querida,".

"I think I'm pregnant," you said, staring into his eyes, searching. Searching for any sense of anger, annoyance, hatred towards you. But you saw nothing but the soft brown eyes you had become so accustomed to.

"Have you done a test or anything?" he asked, not really knowing what to say to you.

"No, not yet," you muttered, averting your eyes down to your hands instead of at Carlos.

"Then I'll go to the store, pick one up, and we can see, OK?" he asked.

"Yeah, OK, sounds good," you nodded, and he was gone nearly as quickly as he came. You didn't have a clue how he felt, he was completely neutral. He didn't show any emotion.

Before you knew it, you had left the test on the bathroom counter and sat with your back against it while you waited for the time to be over. Carlos wordlessly came and sat next you, resting his hands on his knees.

"What're we going to do if I am?" you broke the silence, the question being on the tip of your tongue since he had gotten back home. "I'll support whatever decision you make, no matter what," he said, his tone dripping with sincerity.

"If I am, I want to keep it," you mumbled, waiting for him to yell at you or walk out.

"Then I'll be here every step of the way," he said, "I- I want a baby with you, Y/N, I really do," he told you, placing a calming hand on your thigh. "I feel like there's a 'but' at the end of that sentence," you nervously said.

"No, baby, no, there's no but. I mean it," he said, and a part of you felt comforted at his words. The minutes went by and they felt like hours. Long, agonizing hours. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Two minutes, I think?"

"OK, we'll give it a bit longer so the results are clear and everything," he nodded. He didn't want to tell you how much he actually wanted you to be pregnant, just in case you weren't. He didn't want you to feel like you had let him down or anything.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, turning to look at you. You were still pale, and you were still mindlessly fiddling with your fingers. "I'm scared, nervous, but excited at the same time. I'll be kind of disappointed if I'm not, but also terrified if I am,"

"Well whatever the outcome is, I'll be here. If you are, then that's great. But if you aren't, we can think about it fully and maybe start properly trying if that's what you want," he explained, and it sounded like music to your ears. "What would we do about the wedding?"

"I'd still have our wedding if you were pregnant, but if you don't want to, then we can wait. I honestly don't mind," he smiled, his fingers tracing random circles on the skin of your thigh. You were counting your lucky stars that you had ended up with a guy like Carlos.

"You think we should check?" you nervously laughed, genuinely not knowing what you wanted the outcome to be. "Do you want to do it or do you want me to do it?" he asked, wanting to make this as easy as possible for you.

"Could you go and stand outside while I do it?" you asked, and he happily nodded and stood outside the bathroom as you closed the door. You blocked out the world around you. In this moment, it was just you and your thoughts.

You took a deep breath, trying to slow your heart rate down a bit. You thought prolonging it would only make it worse, so you turned over the test on the counter and had to clap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming.

You stared at it, as if looking at it longer would change it. As if it would make that second pink line disappear. You tried to compose yourself before going to tell Carlos. You were trying to hide the joy, just incase what he said earlier was just him being supportive.

"Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?" he said, knocking on the door gently. You didn't answer, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth. "Querida? Por favor, diga algo," (please, say something). You could hear the concern and worry in his voice, but your mouth wouldn't say the words you wanted it to say.

"Can I come in?" he asked, getting really concerned at your lack of a response. He wouldn't have been surprised if he walked in and you had passed out due to your silence. Just as he turned the door handle, you opened the door.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, as you handed him the thing that would change your lives forever. You searched his face, trying to find any hints of emotion. You could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but you were certain your eyes were playing tricks on you.

You couldn't handle it anymore, so you threw your arms around his neck. "Are you happy?" he asked, not wanting to give his full reaction until he knew how you felt. "I'm ecstatic, you?"

"I'm over the moon, baby," he smiled, squeezing you back. He let you go, and you couldn't help but allow a few happy tears to slip down your cheeks."I think we're going to have to postpone the wedding," you told him, and he smiled and nodded.

"You're having my baby, your wish is my command," he said, vowing to be there through every little thing, and he was your slave for the next nine-or-so months. That was the least you deserved.

"This is amazing," you smiled, not really finding the words to express the joy you felt. It had all been so quick, but it had led to this, so you weren't going to complain. "Looks like you're stuck with me forever, now," you joked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he smiled, trailing his fingers up and down your hips. You were all he ever wanted, and now you were having his child. His child. It didn't sound real, but in the best way possible.

--

You had gotten home early, and you couldn't stop looking and touching at the small bump you had growing. You were around 4 months pregnant at this point, and you couldn't have been more excited for your impending arrival.

You had just received a text from Carlos, asking if you wanted anything from the store while he was on his way home. He did this every day, no matter the time, no matter how tired he was, no matter what.

You and your baby came before everything and anything, with no exceptions. He treat you like a princess, and sometimes he stepped around you like you were a paper-thin sheet of glass. He didn't let you do much by yourself anymore.

You didn't mind, but you had asked him to stop treating you as if you were incompetent. You replied to his text with a food combination you had been desperate to try all day. Your brain was just telling you it would be good, so you thought you would feed it what it wanted.

Carlos responded with a 'That's gross, but sure', and you couldn't help but laugh. He was back after fifteen minutes, your items in hand. "If you get ill, don't blame me, OK?" he laughed, handing you the jar of pickles as well as the peanut butter.

"I honestly hate how good this looks to me right now," you laughed as he took a seat next to you. "Y'know, the lady at the counter said, 'It's either you know someone who's pregnant, or you've got weird tastes," he told you as you cracked open the peanut butter with a pop.

"What did you say?" asked, trying to open the jar of pickles, but struggling immensely.

"I told her my fiance was pregnant, and she was relieved," he laughed, finding it very amusing to watch you struggle. "Hand it here," he said, and you passed him the jar with a huff. Effortlessly, Carlos opened the jar of pickles, and you hated the way you felt about it.

It just made you tingle all over, and you blamed the hormones for making you go crazy. It was just something about the way his arms flexed to make his muscles pop and how his knuckles went white because of how hard he was gripping the lid.

"You like what you see?" he smirked, handing you the jar again.

"Maybe I do," you replied with a grin, batting your eyelashes at him. He looked at you with the eyes, and they never failed to reduce you to mush and answer his every last little request. But you had him under your spell.

"Later, querida," he winked at you, pushing himself off the couch. "I'm going to have a shower, you think you can cope with the thought of me till them?" he teased.

"Oh I'll be fine, don't you worry," you giggled.

"But first, I want to see the disgust on your face when you realise how disgusting that combination is," he laughed, leaning over the back of the couch to look at you. You dipped the pickle into the peanut butter and took a bite out of it.

"OK that is actually really nice," you smiled, going back in for another taste. Carlos' nose scrunched up in disgust. "That is nasty, ew, no," be laughed, backing away and up the stairs. "You should try it!" you collared, and you were met with a hearty laugh.

When Carlos came back downstairs from the shower, his hair was wet and he look a lot comfier. A lot hotter too. "How were the pickles?" He asked, looking at the pickle jar that only had a quarter of the pickles left in it. And the half-empty jar of peanut butter.

"Great, you want one?" you offered, brandishing the jar in front of him. Carlos didn't like pickles on the best of days, but definitely not now. "Not a chance, that shit is nasty," he laughed, pushing the jar back towards you.

"I'll tell you what else could be nasty," you smirked, looking at him with a devilish smile on your face. "Oh, so you're being like that, baby?"

"Maybe I am," you said, leaning back and watching as that mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. "I'll see what I can do for you, then," he grinned, walking towards you. You knew just what to say to make him tick, and you had done it again.

--

As much as your bump slowed you down, it didn't make you work any less hard. Fred had asked you to carry a box of some sort of documents down to the guys at the garage, and you were glad to be able to stretch your legs.

You got to the door to get out of the office, but you couldn't open it with the box in your hands. As any normal person would, you put the box on the floor to open the door, and then bent over to pick it back up.

"Hey, hey, hey, you OK?" Carlos appeared out of nowhere, pulling you back so you were stood upright. "Yeah, I'm just taking this box down to the garage," you nodded, appreciating the concern. He thought you were doubled over and in pain, but he was glad to be wrong.

"You go sit down, I've got it," he said, picking the box up.

"Carlos, I need to do something with myself, a bit of exercise is good for me," you told him, trying to pull the box off him. "No heavy lifting, that's what the doctors said, you can walk with me," he said, setting off through the door.

"You think that that box his heavy? You need to work out more, Carlos," you mocked, walking beside him. "No, but you know that's not what I mean. Minimal strain,"

"I think you pay more attention than I do," you laughed, skipping down the stairs.

"Someone has to take care of you," he playfully rolled his eyes at you, watching your every move as you hopped down the stairs. "Where do you want this?" He asked as you reached the garage.

"Just put it down there, they'll know it's there," you said, pointing to the corner Fred told you to put the box in. He had told the mechanics that it was there, and someone would come and find it later.

"What are you even doing here today?" you asked, the question suddenly dawning on you. You knew there was no testing on the car, and Fred didn't have any meetings with him or Charles today. "Just some stuff with the media people and stuff," he lied.

Well, half-lied. They did have a meeting with the media people, but that had finished an hour ago. He didn't need to be at the factory anymore, but he was compelled to keep an eye on you. It wasn't that he thought you were incapable of taking care of yourself, he just needed to be there in case anything went wrong.

If you needed him, he would be there. If something happened and he wasn't, he would never be able to forgive himself. "OK, well I'll see you in a bit," you said, seeing that something was up but not thinking too much about it.

You walked away and off to your desk to do another hour-or-so's work before you broke off for lunch. You checked Fred's calendar again, answered a lot of emails, but you felt a pair of eyes lingering on you.

You looked up from your screen, but you didn't see anyone there. But, as soon as you focused back on your work, you felt the eyes glued to you again. This time when you looked up, you saw a motion in the doorway in front of you.

Sighing to yourself, you figured you would leave Car- I mean the mystery individual to play their little games. You let him watch for a bit, let him think he had won. Then, you looked up again, catching him dashing behind the doorway.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" you called out, staring at the doorway. There was zero movement, and he clearly thought he was being slick. "Carlos, come on darling, what are you doing?" you called out again, and he slowly wandered out.

"I was just inspecting the doorframe, making sure it wasn't going to collapse or something," he rambled, leaning on your desk with his hands on the edge of the wood. "Sure you were, don't you have media stuff to be doing?" you skeptically asked.

"Yeah, actually, I have to go and do that, right now," he said, turning around and walking away as quickly as he could. It was very odd, but you just thought it was Carlos being Carlos.

Finally, lunch rolled around and you took yourself to the kitchen, where your lunch sat waiting for you in the fridge. The kitchen was empty, since you tended to take lunch later than everyone else, and it was nice to have some silence during the day.

Next to you, you heard something falling off the table, and turned to see a potted plant on the floor, with soil everywhere. Then you saw the perpetrator. "What's your excuse for sitting under a table while I'm eating my lunch, Carlos?"

"I was uh-," he stuttered, and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to churn out an excuse. "Go on, lie to me," you said, staring daggers into his soul.

"Fine, I was just making sure you were OK, that's all," he breathed, sitting down opposite you.

"I can take care of myself, Carlos. You don't need to watch over me 'secretly' like you have been all day," you told him, watching as his cheeks tinted pink and he couldn't meet your gaze. "Querida, I know that, I just want to be here if you need me,"

"If I need you, I will call you. Go home, relax, have some peace and quiet. We will be completely fine," you reassured him, and you could tell he still wasn't fully convinced. You also didn't think it would take that much, but there you were.

"Look, I really appreciate you wanting to be here for me, I really do. But you don't have to watch my every move. If I need you, I will tell you," you further pressed, taking his hand from across the table.

"Do I have to go home though? I can just sit with you at your desk, bring you snacks, talk if you get bored. You won't even know I'm there, baby, I promise," he pleaded, looking at you through those big brown eyes.

"Go home, and take some time for yourself. It's not a request, it's an order," you said sternly. Carlos looked dejected, and he had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do. "Yes ma'am," he sighed, unhooking his jacket off the rack with a sulk.

"Please?" he begged one more time, standing by the door.

"Go home." You told him one more time. He pouted, and you glared at him. He knew not to argue with you when you were being really stern with him, and he knew he had to go. Carlos didn't know what he'd do without you at home.

He literally lived to serve you, and make sure you and your child were OK. That was his life, besides racing. He hadn't been by himself in a while, and he felt kind of lost without you. But he did as he was told, and went home, by himself.

The second he got home, he couldn't resist the urge to pick up his phone and text you. 'Hey baby, how are you doing?' and you just sighed, looking at your phone. There was no way you were responding to him.

'Hey, is everything OK?' he texted back around fifteen minutes later, the show he was watching wasn't occupying his mind like he wanted it to. No matter what, every thought in his mind was replaced by panicked thoughts of you, in pain or something.

He couldn't go by a second without worrying for you if you weren't around him. You ignored this message too, thinking it would teach him a lesson. 'Querida, if you don't tell me you're OK, I will come straight back to work,' he messaged, his leg nervously bouncing up and down.

He was staring daggers into the car keys on the coffee table, almost willing them into his hand by telepathy. When you read that text, you knew he was deadly serious, so you had to text him back. 'Carlos. You come back to work and we are going to have some serious issues. I'm fine,'

Carlos almost didn't want you to respond, just so he'd have the excuse to drive back to work. But he needed to know you were alright, he just wouldn't be able to make sure of that himself. He had a secret weapon lurking up his sleeve.

He might have been sent home, but he knew someone who hadn't been. Charles was at the factory, and he was actually supposed to be there, because he actually had meetings. He would check on you between meetings, and report back to Carlos.

You were sat on your desk, when Charles walked past and smiled. Obviously, you smiled back and didn't think twice about it. Ten minutes later, he came back and stood right in front of your desk, seeming to be doing something on his phone.

You caught his eyes as they flicked up from the screen and onto you, before he walked away. "Hey, do you know if Fred had any messages for me?" Charles asked, coming over to your desk. "No, nothing," you shook your head.

"Can you check?" Charles asked, as if he were expecting something, but you knew there was nothing. "There's nothing," you told him again.

"Fine, fine," he said, knowing there was nothing he could do, "How are you feeling?" he asked, leaning over the desk. "You can tell Carlos I'm fine and that nothing is wrong," you said, instantly sussing out what he was doing.

"I'm just asking how you are," he sheepishly explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're a bad liar, I'm fine," you said, resting your head on your hands.

"But he-"

"Charles. Tell him I am fine," you instructed, glaring at him. He put his hands up defensively, backing up from the desk. "OK, OK, I get it," he said backing away and out into the hallway. He texted Carlos to tell him that you had foiled their plans.

You rolled your eyes as he walked away, but a small grin spread on your lips at the thought of him, texting Charles and asking him to watch over you.

--

"Shit," you whispered to yourself, turning over for the literal thousandth time. No position was comfortable, your overly swollen stomach got in the way at every turn. You just decided to lie there in the dark, your eyes wide open as you stared into the blackness.

There were rims of moonlight coming through the sides of the curtains, but that was it. Carlos was so tired after a day at the factory, and he had been out for hours at this point. In the end, you thought you'd lie there until you became so tired you would pass out.

No matter what, everything was aching. Your back was constantly sending uncomfortable shoots up your spine, and it made everything a challenge. Including falling asleep. This combined with the pounding in your head didn't help. Turning your head to the side, you saw that it was nearing on three am.

You turned your attention back on the ceiling as you thought about what you were going to do tomorrow. Well, later that same day. You had been on maternity leave for around two weeks, and you had already done everything you wanted to do around the house.

Time ticked agonizingly by, the silence and darkness driving you crazier by the second. And more frustrated at the lack of sleep you were getting. Just as you were going to go downstairs and do something to try and make yourself tired, the bed shifted next to you and the bathroom light flicked on.

You stayed in the same position, expecting him to just walk back to bed and not notice you. The second before he turned the light off, he notices your open eyes looking back at him. "Hey, baby, did I wake you up?" he asked in a hushed whisper, getting back into bed and shuffling as close to you as possible.

"No, don't worry. I wasn't asleep," you said, sighing.

"What, so you haven't slept?" he asked, lying on his side to face you as his fingers traced shapes on your stomach. "No, I can't," you shook your head, hoping he would just brush it off and go back to sleep, but you knew he wouldn't.

"What can I do?" he asked. You may not have been able to see him very well, but you could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of your face. "I'll fall asleep soon, I'm really tired," you told him, your right hand tangling into his dark locks.

"Well then, what can I do to help you fall asleep quicker?" he lightly chuckled, prodding you gently in the ribs. "You've had a long day, darling, go to sleep," you instructed, not wanting to make him tired later.

"You've had just as long a day as I have, querida, you need to sleep too. You not sleeping isn't good for you, it isn't good for the baby, and that therefore means it's not good for me either," he chuckled. "So you're trying to guilt trip me into letting you help me?" you asked, and you could just picture the smirk you knew was on his face.

"Yes and no, and I know it's working. We're in this together, if you're awake, I'm awake. If you need something, I am here," he told you. You weren't the biggest fan of always relying on him for things, since you liked to have some form of independence, but it was times like these where you were extremely grateful to have someone so caring and doting.

"So, do you want a tea, or an extra blanket, or we can go and do something until you get tired?" he listed, masking the yawn he was letting out. "A tea sounds great," you told him, and he was gone like a flash. "Do you want anything else while I'm downstairs?"

"Could you grab two paracetamols and my book off the coffee table?" you asked, the hall light switching on outside. "Headache?"

"No points for guessing that one," you laughed, rubbing your temples as Carlos headed downstairs. A few minutes later, he was back, with a perfectly brewed tea in one hand, and your book with the paracetamols balanced on top of it in the other.

"I didn't make it too hot so you can drink it straight away," he smiled, "Watch your eyes," he said, turning the lamp on as you screwed them shut. It took a second for them to adjust, but you were fine after a few seconds.

He handed you the mug and the white tablets, downing them in a second. "Thank you," you smiled, and you could still see the tiredness in his face. "Anything for you," he hummed, setting your book in your lap and sitting next to you.

You had nearly finished your tea, and it was already making you feel sleepy as the paracetamol seemed to be working on your headache, it turning from a pounding to a soft thumping instead. As if on cue, you and Carlos yawned in unison.

"I think we should probably try sleeping now, yeah?" you asked, shimmying back down under the covers and putting your book aside. You wouldn't need it after all. "Yeah, yeah, c'mere," he smiled, switching the lamp back off and shuffling into you. He pulled you against him, his chin resting atop your head as his hand lazily trailed across your stomach.

Even now, it was a strange sensation that he relished. Knowing that your baby was just beneath his fingertips, only separated by a few centimetres, made his heart sing with glee. It made him look forward to the impending day that they would arrive even more, and he couldn't wait to hold them and give them the best life possible.

He knew the two of you would be brilliant, loving parents to your child, no matter what. He also knew there'd be hard times, but you'd get through it together. Just like you always did.

"Goodnight, darling," you sleepily whispered, tangling his legs with yours.

"Goodnight, baby," he mumbled into your hair, trying to force himself to keep his eyes open. Unless you were asleep, he wasn't allowed to. Thankfully, he waited for around ten minutes and he was confident you were fast asleep, and nothing could harm you.

Not while his two favourite people in the whole world were at home, in his arms where he could keep you safe until the end of time. That was how it would always be, for forever and longer if the world would let him.

--

God you were tired. Well, you had every right to be. No more than an hour ago, you and Carlos had welcomed your newest family member into the world. You nearly refused to sleep so you could watch over her, but your body wouldn't let you stay awake.

"Baby, please sleep. I'll watch her, she'll be fine," Carlos had told you, even though his body was also desperate for rest after being there through every second of the 9 hour labour process. He didn't care about himself though, he could stay up for hours to make sure you got the rest you needed.

You were exhausted, and deservedly so, and he would happily wait up for longer to give you the time. Also, he couldn't take his eyes off of your sleeping daughter. She was absolutely perfect in every way, and she was currently sleeping in the corner as he watched her.

You were sleeping lightly, your parental instincts keeping you on edge, ready to strike into action at the drop of a hat. The silence was nice, as well as the lack of pain. It was like your body was floating you felt so peaceful, yet alert. Carlos was holding your hand, his habit of running his thumb up and down not being broken just yet.

His eyes were pinned on her, monitoring her every breath, searching for any tiny abnormality. She was his responsibility, and he was not going to let a single thing happen to her. He had only held her once so far, and he was so desperate to hold her again, but he couldn't wake her.

He wasn't even able to hold you right now, so his arms felt cold and empty. Every now and then, he would check the digital clock on the bedside table on the other side of you, just to see how much time had passed by.

He lost track after a while, and your girl woke up, the small beginnings of a cry escaping her lips. "Hey, hey, cariño," he said, approaching her and picking her up. One hand was under her head, the other one under her back as he handled her like she could shatter at any given time.

He held her against his chest, lightly bouncing her from side to side. His every touch was as delicate as a feather, not wanting to harm her in any way.  "You're OK, Daddy's here," he soothed, rubbing her back. She was slowly getting louder, but he didn't want to wake you up.

"Shh, don't cry, you don't want to wake Mommy, she's tired," he said as if she could understand him. It was almost as if she had, however, because her cries quietened and stopped as she fell silent against Carlos' chest. 

"Thank you, cariño," he smiled, planting a kiss atop the soft skin of her head, "Now let's sit down and wait for Momma to wake up," he told her, refusing to put her back down in her cot. He wanted to keep her tucked against his chest, where she was safe. 

She was so tiny against him, her back barely the size of the span of his hand. It felt so weird to have such a high amount of love for such a tiny someone, but she was just too perfect not to adore with every fibre that he had in his being. 

"While we have some Daddy-daughter time, there are a couple of things I want to say to you," he started, looking over at you to see if you had woken up. Your eyes were still closed, and your position hadn't shifted, so he assumed you were still asleep.

"For starters, you have no idea how excited I am to finally be able to meet you and hold you. I guess you'll only really know if you have your own kids. But I don't want you thinking about that yet, you're not allowed a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever whoever you like until you're at least twenty-one, and I'm serious about that,"

"Next up, you're going to have to work with me here, I am going to teach you Spanish so we can gossip and your Mom won't know what we're saying, since she failed miserably when I taught her Spanish. No sabía escuchar y siempre estaba distraída," (she was not a good listener and always got distracted)

You didn't have a clue what he had said to her, and you didn't like the sound of not being able to understand what they could be saying. But, you had to bite back a giggle at his comment about no romance until she was twenty-one.

"Finally, since I'm sure you're already getting bored of me talking at you, but get used to it, I promise I will love you no matter what, until the day I die. I will protect you and keep you safe, no matter how old and frail I might become,"

"I also hope you know just how lucky you are to have the best mother in the whole entire universe. I might not always be with you, since I'll be racing, but she will be. You will grow up with the best role-model you could ask for, and I know you'll be a fantastic person too. I love you, cariño,"

"Thanks for making me cry, Carlos, I appreciate it," you spoke up, wiping the tears from your eyes. You loved what he had said, and your hormones were still all over the place. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he chuckled, shifting in his seat to face you more.

"You can try and teach me Spanish again, I don't want to be left out," you smiled, looking at the perfect picture that was set out in front of you. "Sure, we can try that again," he nodded.

"Can I have her?" you asked, holding your arms out for him to put your precious girl into. Carlos just smirked and shook his head, "No, she's mine," 

"Please?" you pouted, leaning forward to try and take her away from him. You just wanted to hold your daughter, it really wasn't a big ask. "OK, baby, OK," he triedly smiled, placing her in your arms. "But move up, I want to sit with you," he said.

You made sure she was comfortable, and scooted to the side so he could sit on your hospital bed with the two of you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, not able to stop his fingers from brushing against her. 

Carlos was finally able to close his eyes and let his guard down. He was finally able to rest for a bit. Not for too long, but for a bit. "Hey darling, before you sleep, we're sticking with the name we chose, right?" you asked.

"I think it suits her," he sleepily nodded against your shoulder. You agreed, and left him to get some well-deserved rest. He had been there through every torturous second, sat through all the abuse you had hurled at him, and stuck through his hand getting crushed or his shoulder being punched. 

And he'd do it all over again. He'd do it all for his girls, he'd do anything.

--

"She's normally very talkative, but she's just pretending to be shy," you laughed with Toto as Harper giggled and buried her head in your neck. She was always the center of attention at every race, and she had grown to know a lot of people.

Toto received a text, and had to dash off. You thought it would be best to head back to the garage anyway, so you set off across the paddock. A couple of people were having interviews, and she waved at her favourites as you passed by.

She waved at a certain curly haired boy, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. Sure, he was in an interview, but he just said, "Sorry, I have to go," and dashed over to the pair of you. 

"Well if it isn't my favourite little lady!" Lando exclaimed, plucking her out of your arms as she willingly let him take her. "Muppet!" was all Harper she said, since it was her way of greeting him since she had heard Carlos say it a few times. 

"Now what is this?" he asked, poking her in the stomach and making her giggle uncontrollably. "Your Daddy might race for Ferrari, but your favourite uncle Lando doesn't. This should be papaya, not red," he playfully scolded, tickling her even more. 

Her laughter was contagious, and you could see other drivers and personnel around smiling at her.  The cameras clicked as the press took some photos, and you could tell she was loving the attention.

"I also wear red, therefore she is in the perfect colour," Charles said, popping up beside you. "Carlos is just finishing up an interview, he'll be out in a few," Charles told you, as Harper held her arms out to him and did the grabby hands. 

"I have been replaced, my heart is hurting," Lando said with feigned sadness as he clutched at his heart. Thankfully, Harper was used to being passed around from person to person often, so she didn't much mind. 

"Think how I feel, she's always leaving me for one of you," you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. "You do make a good point, but you're not her favourite uncle," Lando said, folding his arms and he swayed from side to side.

"No, you're not, I am," Charles said, bouncing around with Harper on his hip as she continued to giggle at him. "We're not starting this now," you sighed, not wanting to hear the favourite uncle argument again. 

But before they could answer, Harper was on her feet, running away from Charles. Tag was their favourite game, and he could never say no to her when she asked to play. Well, he never said no to her in regards to anything, but tag was the most important. 

"Charles, be careful!" you called, not able to not worry about her running around a very crowded place. "I know!" he called back, slowly jogging to try and catch up to Harper.

"Don't worry Y/N, I'll keep an eye on them," Lando grinned, and you could see he was itching to get involved in the game. At this point, Harper was chasing Charles as fast as her little legs could carry her, but Charles was barely even walking away from her.

But, Harper saw opportunity strike when she saw Lando next to her. She hit him in the leg with a squealed, "Tag!" before turning and running away. 

"Harps, you're just too fast!" Lando laughed, trying to chase her. His sights turned on Charles, however, who was cowering away from him. As Lando set off on the hunt for Charles, Harper laughed and clapped her little hands, "Run, Charlie, run!" she shouted as Lando grappled Charles and tagged him. 

Harper started to run away again, when an arm slithered around your waist. "I have to be in an interview while you guys are all out here having fun, so unfair," Carlos smiled, pulling you into his side as he kissed you on the head.

He was so glad that his best friends were so good with his daughter, and she loved them just as much as they loved her. "I know, it's just so unfair," you laughed, smiling at him as he watched Harper, his eyes full of love and wonder.

The two of you chuckled as Charles caught Harper, picking her up as he tickled her. She squirmed in his arms, fits of giggles sounding out around the paddock. "Stop it!" she laughed, hitting him in the chest. 

"Oh hey Carlos," Lando said, breathlessly coming and standing next to you. At the mention of her Dad's name, Harper's attention turned from Charles to Carlos. "Papa!" she exclaimed, wriggling out of Charles' arms and running over to Carlos.  

She leapt into his arms as he picked her up and spun her around. "Hola, cariño, ¿qué tal?" he asked, holding her on his hip as she squished his cheeks. "Estoy bien, ¿y tú?" she smugly grinned, loving that she could show off the Spanish Carlos had been teaching her. 

"Yo también," he proudly smiled, "Eres muy inteligente, ¿lo sabías?" he said, and your understanding of his words stopped right there. "Yo no comprende," she looked at him, confusion written all over her face.

"All I said was that you're my clever girl, sweetheart," he smiled kissing her on the cheek. She let out a giggle of happiness, her smile lighting up Carlos' face. You could watch them together all day, and it was your favourite form of entertainment. 

He kissed her on the other cheek, and she scrunched her nose up. Carlos started kissing her all over her face, as she squealed and squirmed. "Daddy, stop it! That tickles!" she laughed, trying to push his head away from her.

"Does it? I hadn't noticed," he chuckled as he carried on. But he eventually stopped, leaving her breathless from laughing. Harper rested her head on Carlos' shoulder as you, Charles, Lando and him stood and talked. 

You noticed she hadn't said anything in a while, so you stepped to stand behind Carlos. "Harper? Sweetheart? Are you tired?" You asked, her eyes looking droopy as you brushed a lock of her dark hair out of her face. It was nearly as dark as Carlos'. 

"Mhm," she nodded, her face squished against Carlos' shoulder. 

"OK, do you want to go for a nap?" you asked, gently massaging her scalp. 

"Yeah," she yawned, all of that running around with Charles and Lando clearly making her tired. "Come on then," you said, she flopped out of Carlos' arms and into yours. She buried her head in the crook of your neck, her breath soft on your skin. 

"I'm going to her to your room, I'll see you guys in a bit," you said, rubbing your hand over Harper's back soothingly. "Yeah, that's fine, is she OK?" Carlos asked, instantly thinking she had fallen ill or something, "Estoy cansada, Papa," she mumbled, lifting her head to look at her Dad.

"OK, I'll see you later," he nodded, kissing Harper on the head and tugging you close to him for a kiss. "See you later, Harps, say bye to Muppet and Charlie," you told her. She smiled at the two drivers, waving them goodbye.

"Bye," she sleepily chuckled, and Charles took her hand and kissed the back of it as he smiled at her. "Sleep well, Harper," he said, and she always giggled at the charm of Charles. 

"I'll beat you in tag next time, little lady," Lando smiled, fist bumping her before you walked away. You took her all the way over to the Ferrari motorhome, and into Carlos' drivers room. It was quiet in there, and the couch was comfortable enough.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?" you quietly asked Harper as she looked up at you with those big brown eyes that were identical to Carlos', and you could see the tiredness in them. "No, I want to sit with you," she mumbled, shifting around until she was happy in your lap. 

"OK, sleep well, sweetheart," you said, planting an affectionate kiss on her head. For a while, you just sat there, Harper soundly sleeping on you. You looked at the table opposite you, and all of the pictures on there brought back the best memories in your life.

One of them was the day Harper was born, and you were sat in the hospital, sleeping with her on your chest. Another was of the three of you on a carousel when you went to a carnival the previous year. You took the picture, and Harper was smiling while sat on Carlos' knee as the horse flew up and down. 

The final one was just of you, and you remembered it was from on of your first dates with Carlos. He had offered to take a picture of you with the full moon behind you, and it instantly became his favourite photo. 

The door to the room opened, and you were initially alarmed. You were afraid that the person thought Carlos was in there and were going to wake up Harper by accident. "Hey, baby," he quietly said, slowly closing the door behind him. 

"Hi, darling," you smiled as he came to sit beside you. 

"How long has she been asleep for?" He asked, his hand moving to the back of your head and gently playing with your hair. You pushed your head into his hand, the feeling sending warm tingles through your brain. 

"Half an hour, she was asleep as soon as we sat down," you told him, slotting yourself into his side like a puzzle piece. "Do you want me to take her? Your legs are probably getting numb," he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

"I'm alright, I don't want to wake her," you told him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. 

"OK, but let me know if you want me to take her," he told you, resting his head atop yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, just feeling a little sleepy. But you had what you wanted, and all you needed in your life.

Carlos looked down at his girls, both sleeping and safe with him. You had given him everything he wanted in his life, and he would never be more grateful for that. The two of you were the picture of perfection, and neither of you would have it any other way. 

A/N - This has been a long time coming, but it's here! Rest assured, all requests are being worked on! Also, I know I always give them daughters, but they're all girl dads to me, y'know? Feel free to submit any requests, I love to write them! Hope you enjoyed 💖

|masterlist|

[pleasingforharry]

cute moments between college!harry and yn??? stuff that the boys notice/walk in on and the banter and them just complimenting eachother so well 🥹

this is so, help me

-

college!harry x quiet!yn

-

Y/N always wakes up first. Since grade school, she had a tendency to wake up around six, sometimes earlier. It was hard to sleep in, so most times, she’d just stay in bed until she felt like it was a reasonable time to get up.

Harry on the other hand, could sleep until the next day. He wasn’t normally a heavy sleeper, he blamed it on soccer season. His body would get so exhausted that he needed a few extra hours to completely heal. And to add on top of that, Harry was fucking grumpy in the morning. He would hate everyone and everything that even glanced his way.

Y/N would typically be up first and roll on her side to face her boyfriend.

“Hey, dove,” She whispered, even though his light snore indicated that he was still fast asleep. Her finger trailed up his chest to his jaw, where she caressed him. “Pretty boy.” Y/N leaned in to kiss the corner of Harry’s lip, before watching him sleep for a few silent minutes.

Her hands started to wander. The sharp but soft tips of her nails scratched the back of his neck, to his collarbones, to his exposed chest, then back up to his chin where she pinched. The couple was tangled together by their legs, so Y/N had to be extra cautious when shifting to the nightstand to find her phone. But as Harry's sixth sense kicked in—he called it his Y/N sense—his arms rounded her waist and pulled her snug against him. He subconsciously hummed in satisfaction, and the smallest smile rested on his face.

“Dove, are you awake?” Y/N asked just over the noise of the fan gushing air in the corner of his room. She grabbed his cheeks with both hands and pressed her nose against his. Harry only responded with a soft snore. Y/N giggled and leaned in again to capture the tip of Harry’s sharp nose between her teeth. She didn’t press down, but waited for a reaction, which Harry didn’t give her.

He was deeply sleeping.

Y/N finally shimmied in Harry’s hold enough to extend her hand for her phone and check the time. Both of them were free from class that day, so seven in the morning was extremely early to get up. But Y/N was getting angsty staying in bed.

It took her nearly ten minutes to escape Harry and stretch out her muscles. She rolled out of bed and threw on a shirt from Harry's drawer, wearing her own pair of joggers as she could never catch herself walking around the frat house pantsless.

But before Y/N reached the bathroom door, her name was called. “Get back in bed with me, woman.” Y/N giggled and turned in the direction of the voice. Harry was still laid down, but his arms reached out for her.

“I’ve been sitting there for forever. I needed to move around,” Y/N shrugged, walking back to Harry but his side of the bed. He rolled to face her and even though he was smiling profusely on the inside, his face displaced pure grump.

As soon as Y/N was in reach, he grabbed her forearm and yanked her on top of him. She squealed softly, her hands planting on each side of him before their foreheads bumped into each other. "Who said you could leave me?" Harry rasped out a scold. His eyes were barely open, but Y/N still caught the green beaming against the light from the window.

"I did," she responded, before giggling. Their lips were close to brushing together. Y/N found it nice.

But Harry had to ruin that moment.

His face contorted to disgust as his nose shriveled up. "Baby, your morning breath is horrendous." Y/N gasped, sitting up straight on his chest.

"Harry!" she growled. "That’s so rude. I hope you suffocate from the smell."

"Fine by me, I love it," he sighed, smiling drunkly. "I can die happily, surrounded by the scent of your morning breath. Come here." Harry didn't give her time to protest, before she was pressed chest-to-chest. He quickly devoured her into a long kiss, humming in satisfaction. His hands wandered down the length of her, swiftly swimming under the band of her pajama shorts.

Y/N felt every touch and her heart quickened. She would never get used to him. He was so gentle and loving. But sometimes he wasn’t. It was hot.

"How did you sleep, baby?" Harry asked between kisses, keeping their mouths attached. His hands ran over her panties and rubbed his palms along her ass, not grabbing.

She was now holding his face, her weight against him, and enjoying the feeling of his clean shave under her fingers. "Good. I dreamt about you."

"Did you now?" He slurred incoherently, his tongue pushed into her mouth, not allowing her to answer. But he didn't need her to. She always dreamt about him, every night. And it was the exact same way vice versa.

Harry dreamt about Y/N, whether he was asleep or awake.

The couple was—literally—rolling in the sheets as Y/N was now under Harry, holding him tight by the neck so he was forced against her. She loved his warm chest touching hers.

Harry's morning wood didn't go unnoticed as his hips slowly pushed into hers, sighing with every thrust. "Fuck baby," he whispered, before tugging on her lip. He didn't want her to do anything about it as he liked the tease. The tightness against his boxers, the only relief was the brushing up against the one person who made him harder.

One whimper she let out to a particular thrust of his cock caused Harry to move to a faster pace. "Oh god," he gasped, looking down at her, but she was the one in control.

She gripped his hair hard. “Keep going, dove."

-

First the couple went into his bathroom, doing their domestic morning routine. There was a double vanity, but Harry still chose to stand behind Y/N and share the sink while they brushed their teeth. His free hand was roaming the soft skin of her stomach, before it eventually went to rest on her hip as she had to lean forward to spit. And each time her ass connected with his area, he would smirk widely, causing her to blush.

Y/N had double of her supplies, in her dorm and Harry's room. She slept at both places equally so it made sense. Harry watched as she used each product, sometimes turning to apply it to his face. He wouldn't ask what it was, just smiled warmly as she tended to him.

"Smells good?" She asked, rubbing circles on his cheeks as he closed his eyes. "It's peach scented. I love this one."

Harry nodded, "Smells really good, baby."

Afterwards, Harry carried Y/N back to bed, ignoring her protest to let her down. "You're not going to leave if you go back to bed," she said as he dropped her on the sheets and climbed on top of her.

"I know. We have nothing to do today. Let's stay here."

"But I'm hungry," she frowned. Y/N still didn't like to wander the frat house without Harry, even though she'd grown good friends with the others living there. Harry knew that and hated that she'd always feel that way.

He sighed and kissed her. "Okay, ten minutes here and then I'll take you downstairs, baby."

"That's a long time. Why?" she whined, hitting him on the chest multiple times. He only needed to slap her ass harshly as a warning before she immediately stopped and frowned.

"I want to be alone with you, woman, that's why," he kissed her furrowed eyebrows. "Give me ten minutes of just us before I have to share you with the world."

Y/N smiled and held his face. "You're kind of sweet. It's making me nauseous," she spoke innocently.

Harry growled and attacked her into a fit of laughter as he tickled her sides.

Y/N marked ten minutes exactly and finally dragged Harry out of his room to the kitchen. It was quiet as everyone else was still fast asleep. Harry complained about it. "Why do we have to be up while they get to sleep in?" he groaned. He had lifted Y/N on the island and stood between her legs.

She pushed his hair back and smiled at him. "Because I'm hungry and you're my big, protective dove, so you have to come with me," she shrugged. "I'll make you extra pancakes as a thank you."

"No need. Just kiss me," he said, puckering his lips. Y/N gladly accepted them, but not for long. Her fear of someone walking in on their intimacy kept their PDA to a minimum.

Y/N jumped down and began to cook. Harry took her spot on the island and kept the noise in the room alive with his constant chattering. Y/N gladly listened, commenting on the ridiculousness of her boyfriend. It became their roles. He was the talker, she was the listener/commentator. They loved it.

“Do you want sprinkles on your pancakes too, dove?” Y/N interrupted Harry to ask.

“Of course, I do,” he laughed, jumping off the counter to retrieve the sprinkles from the pantry. When he returned, he stepped behind her at the stove and hovered it in front of her. “Your sprinkles, madam.”

She smiled widely, and even though he couldn’t see it, he felt it. “Thank you, good sir.”

Y/N expected Harry to claim his original spot on top of the island, but instead, he stayed behind his girlfriend. His hands were around her loosely as she was continuously moving to tend to pans of pancakes and eggs with bread also in the toaster.

The smell traveled the length of the frat house. Down the hallways, under the slim openings of the doors, and to the beds where the rest of the boys slept. It only took one whiff for their eyes to open and hum at the smell.

"More?" Y/N glanced up at Harry as she shook the bottle of sprinkles onto the cooking pancakes. "That's a lot, dove."

"It's fine. I'll run it all off at practice," he smirked. "But thank you for your concern, baby. I love that you care about my health."

"It's not that," she spun around to face him and lifted a cheeky brow up. "What if you have a heart attack and die? I could be put behind bars for murder." Her eyes widened as she stood on the tips of her toes.

Harry scoffed. "Oh, I see. It's not me you care about, huh?"

"Uh, no. I don't know you," she turned back to the stove to hide her smile. Harry smirked and fully wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His neck bent so his lips could find her ear. Y/N was already giggling from his breath brushing her.

"Oh, baby. I can assure you that you do," Harry whispered, purposely bumping his dented area against her ass. Y/N bit her lip and tried ignoring him as much as possible. But his warm breath running along her neck to her ear as he groaned, caused her legs to go weak.

"You're the worst," She sighed.

Harry didn't let down. Holding his girlfriend and loving up on her while she cooked. He yearned for those moments. Alone with the one person that mattered most to him.

But that wasn't always the case as he still lived in a lively frat house.

"I'm actually going to puke. Stop being such a cute fucking couple. Jesus." Before Y/N could even match the voice to a person, she was pushing Harry off of her with a gasp. Harry rolled his eyes, attaching himself right back to her.

Niall stood at the thrust of the kitchen entrance, barely able to stand up straight.

"Good morning, asswipe," Harry smiled sarcastically at him, fighting against Y/N's harsh push. "Stop it," he darkly whispered to her.

Y/N huffed, turning around to the stove while blushing profusely as she avoided Niall's eyes. Harry could read his girlfriend like the back of his hand. He knew that in her mind, couples who physically touch attract attention, which was the last thing she wanted. The problem was, Y/N lived for Harry's touch.

She was a confused mess.

Harry compromised by standing beside her, leaning on the counter with his hand holding her hip.

"What's going on down here?" Niall wandered over to the food being cooked on the stove. "Damn, Y/N. It smells amazing in here," he exclaimed, bumping shoulders with her. She smiled and shyly thanked him. Niall patted her back—unbothered and used to her usual demeanor—before moving his attention to Harry.

"Are you gonna share, fat man?" he asked, running his fingers through his thick hair.

"It's not for you," Harry smirked. "Get your own girlfriend."

Just then, four more tired, bedheaded boys appeared inside the kitchen, sniffing the air.

"It smells like a fucking restaurant in here. What the hell are you making, Y/N?" Isaiah approached her side to glance down at the food she cooked. So did the others. Harry watched his girlfriend cautiously, waiting for her to signal that she was uncomfortable and needed him to step in.

Y/N tried not to show it in front of Harry, wanting to prove that she could handle things on her own, but she still grew overwhelmed. She didn't think to cook enough for everyone, and as the boys lived in the house, it would've made sense to do so. Why didn't she think of them?

She gave up and turned to Harry, asking for help with her frown. He immediately caught on and stood up straight. "Back off, guys. It's for us. Get your own breakfast."

They all gasped in sync, loudly and dramatic, before bursting into raspy laughter. Y/N glanced over her shoulder, trying to understand why.

"Obviously, Harry," Sage rolled his eyes. He was seated on top of the island.

"We didn't expect her to cook a meal for six hungry guys," Flynn said. "Y/N would need multiple people to help her cook enough to fill us all up." The others laughed in agreement.

Y/N shoulders instantly relaxed, her back was to them, as she sucked in a solid breath.

"Well, good. Then stop bothering us," Harry said, holding her against him. She tried to calm down in his touch, but she still felt their eyes pointed at their connection. So, she stepped to the side.

Harry stared at her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. The others were busy in a new conversation, grabbing cereal from the pantry.

"Stop moving away from me," He growled at her.

"They're looking, Harry," she whispered. He sighed and dropped his arm from her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's fine, baby," He reassured her. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Her eyes were doe and sad when she peered up at him. "Are you mad?" He instantly shook his head, she sighed in relief, before he smiled sweetly and moved in close so their faces were almost touching.

"Never. We go PDA when you want to go PDA. It's my bad, okay?" He lifted a brow at her. Y/N puffed out a breath, glancing over at the others, who weren't paying any attention to the couple as they ate and talked.

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "I like when you hold my hip, though. I don't mind that," She shrugged. Harry's heart grew for her even more, if that was possible.

"Then I shall hold your hip," He turned his voice posh, “because I am highly obsessed with it." Harry grabbed her hip and squeezed gently. Y/N smiled, before focusing on the food again.

"I guess a kiss is okay too," She whispered, not looking at him when she said it. Harry chuckled, pinching her hip that time. She squealed and tried to flinch away. He loved to watch her squirm.

"Yeah, where, baby?" He asked. "On the cheek?"

She shrugged. "On the lips is fine. Just no making out. It's cringe." Her nose shriveled.

Harry chuckled, before turning her face to his and pressing their lips gently together. They pulled away before anyone could catch them and make a snarky comment. Harry kept hold of her jaw so she was forced to look at him. Her cheeks tinted pink, and Harry couldn’t wipe the wide smirk off his face.

Neither of them noticed how the others watched, before turning away and sharing proud smiles. Their Harry was all grown up. And smitten.

-

Everyone spread across the couches, but the couple shared the loveseat. It took them a minute to decide a position as their regular one was too intimate for the boys to see. So, Harry laid with his back against the armrest and Y/N pressed to his chest. His arms rounded her waist with his chin on her shoulder.

It was still a favorite.

"Your legs are hairy," Y/N whispered, running her hand down his thigh. "I can basically braid it." She giggled at her joke.

"Don't make fun of my hair. It's manly," he scoffed, pinching her stomach. Y/N giggled under her breath. It was a heavenly sound to Harry.

"You're not very manly. You whimper," She glanced over her shoulder to catch his reaction. "Loudly too." Harry's eyes widened, darting to the others to check if they heard that.

Y/N had to place her hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter because she couldn't contain it. "I do not,” He argued.

"Yes, you do. Especially when I pull your hair and scratch you," She said, raising a finger. Harry groaned, squeezing his arms tighter around her.

"Just watch the show, woman," He huffed. He placed a single kiss on her temple, before sighing. "You are very high maintenance." Y/N shrugged and snuggled closer against him.

A few beats passed with Harry thinking she dropped the topic. But his brow lifted when he heard her suddenly gasp. She twisted her upper body to face him. The maniacal smile on her lips almost scared him to death.

"What?" He dared to ask.

"You have a pain kink, don't you?" Her eyes squinted at her discovery.

Harry tried to play his reaction cool. "Maybe, maybe not," He couldn't help but quickly kiss her tempting lips. She accepted it as the lights were dimmed and the boys were focusing on the show. "Does it make me manly?"

Y/N hummed in thought. "I think so. But don't worry about being manly." She patted his shoulder and pinched his chin. "I like you just the way you are. Whimpering and all."

He snorted. "You like my whimpering? Why, you dirty dirty girl."

"Am not," she shook her head. "I am just an innocent, vanilla type of girl."

Harry knew that was far from the truth.

"Huh, really?" He spoke devilishly in her ear. She shivered. "I don't think you're telling the truth, baby. That's not being a good girl." Oh Y/N hoped no one heard the moan that just left her mouth.

She slapped Harry's chest and looked away. "Shut up. I might change my mind and not like you anymore."

"Impossible. You like me and my hairy legs," He laughed.

"I'll wax them off in your sleep," She giggled. Harry gasped, before biting her earlobe. "Stop, someone's gonna see."

"Already have. You guys suck at whispering," Niall spoke first, rolling his eyes. Y/N froze, turning to look at him. "Whatever, it's cute. Don't stress about it."

"Yeah, I do way worse PDA," Flynn waved her off.

"We know," the rest of the boys said in unison.

"Whoa, calm down. No need to yell," He muttered.

Y/N laughed, falling back into Harry's chest.

He held her. "Don't worry. We'll go our pace, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled widely. "Remember when I said I'm okay with some stuff."

Harry smirked behind her, already grabbing her jaw to turn her face.

"You don't have to tell me twice, baby." He brought their lips together, engulfing in a kiss that didn't last as long as their usual, but still contained just as much passion.

-

[necrotic-nephilim]

i think it's funnier if tim still views the relationship in a detached way bc he's doing this to keep bruce stable but bruce starts getting attached and calling tim things like sweetheart and ducky

and then bruce realizes that tim doesn't really return those feelings and has a breakdown

(based on my tags on this post) oooh, that *is* fun, actually. i love your brain. i'm so enamored by BruTim being such an emotionally complex relationship that doesn't hold the typical love you associate with BruDick or BruJay.

especially because you expect *Bruce* to be the clinically detached one. he's the one who sucks at his emotions and sucks even more at showing them. even when he loves someone, he's not going to process it well. he's going to make a mess of everything. so for him to express so much positive emotion towards Tim with petnames that are *just* on the cusp of romantic, like sweetheart and ducky. they *could* be casual, they hover right on the edge of sweet nothings to real emotion. it gives Bruce plausible deniability when DIck hears one of the petnames and squints at Bruce from across the room, trying to decide if he's going to do anything about it.

but for Tim. for Tim all of this is a job, and not even one he plans to hold onto for long. sure, Tim cares about Bruce, but i think fanon has really twisted around just how much Tim cares. this isn't a familial bond, it's a workplace one. Tim doesn't want Bruce to replace his parents, even when they die. he doesn't want to get too close to Bruce and lose sight of himself. it's a careful balance, helping Bruce and being there for him while setting his own clear boundaries about were this ends. and the sex of it all, when Tim realizes that being Robin includes *that*, is also just the job. maybe Tim enjoys the sex, maybe he's detached from it (i think it's fun if Bruce can't figure out which and is gaslighting himself in both directions bc he doesn't know if he wants to torture himself with knowing he can't stay away from a boy who doesn't want him or if he wants to live in the fantasy that this is something real) in the same way he is Robin. he puts everything into it, but emotionally, Tim still holds himself at a distance. he'll initiate sex with Bruce needs it, he'll enjoy the bodily sensations and *maybe* even the thrill of getting attention from an older man. but Tim isn't the type of person to fall in love with Bruce like Dick is. Tim wants to have a normal life by the time he's in his 20s, and there's a planned obsolescence in his role as Robin.

so when Bruce starts dropping the pet names in, maybe even by accident first. pet names are expected in sex. the first time Bruce calls Tim 'sweetheart' is while fucking him and Tim doesn't think twice about it. it slips out in aftercare too and Bruce keeps pushing and pushing until he wears Tim down to getting used to them in casual conversation. the first few times Tim gave Bruce a sour look but now he just sighs, if he reacts at all. he lets Bruce press a gentle kiss to his forehead and call him sweetheart when they're alone in the cave. it's so casual. "pass me that file, sweetheart" or "when are you going home, love?" and even "good job, ducky" which is the real kicker, bc Bruce will shrivel away before giving anyone honest praise for their work that doesn't come with strings attached. and every time, Bruce is expecting, *hoping* for a smile from Tim. a shared pet name for Bruce, a soft look, anything to indicate a romantic fondness. he convinces himself Tim is just shy. it takes time for Tim to open up sometimes and Bruce isn't going to rush this.

but when every night, without fail, Tim always leaves Bruce bed after sex to go him and sleep in his own manor. when he never pulls away from Bruce's romantic touch but doesn't lean into it either, it's forced to click for Bruce. and i think him having a breakdown is so fun about it. bc he can have *anyone*. he had the unwavering adoration of the past two Robins who loved him without condition. everyone is in love with Bruce Wayne or Batman. except *Tim*. Tim who *asked* for this role and because of that treated it like a job, not a gift. Bruce gave Robin to Dick and Jason. he chose them. but he didn't choose Tim and somehow, it's the tease of someone unobtainable that breaks Bruce.

i love the thought of Bruce, maybe under influence of truth serum or some sort of psychoactive drug breaking down into tears while Tim is taking care of him and tending to his wounds. and Bruce has his head in Tim's lap, looking up at Tim with more emotional vulnerability than he's shown *anyone*, rambling about love and feelings. most of it isn't coherent, but Tim understands. and somehow it's worse that there's no cruelty in Tim's eyes, but only *pity*. he stays the night, for *once*, but he's doing it out of pity. he's letting Bruce hold him because it's what Bruce needs, and Tim is just doing his job.

(Bruce holds onto the moment greedily anyway, bc he'll take what he can get and if emotional manipulation is what's needed to get Tim to stay the night and whisper soothing things to him that almost sound like love, then Bruce will definitely file that information way to use later. he'll break Tim down sooner or later, even if it's not a conscious effort. it's just how Bruce is and what he can't stop himself from doing. after all the good he's done, is he not allowed to be selfish in these rare vulnerable hours?)

[spock-smokes-weed]

Idk how ppl write a/b/o fanfic with doing zero research on the human body and pregnancy but it’s slowly killing me

I just ran into a fanfic that said “oh yea omegas are past their prime fertility wise at age 30 and getting pregnant becomes super dangerous” what if I killed you??? What if I threw your computer into the ocean????

Idk who needs to hear this, but in no way are you past your childbearing years at age 30. You’re not even past them at 40!!!! Myths like that are incredibly fucking harmful and make ppl feel pressured to have kids before they’re ready and maybe we shouldn’t regurgitate that in our fanfic.

Even if the OP did know that the uterus doesn’t shrivel up and die when you turn 30, and decided to add it as “world building” then it’s just bad world building. There is no reason for that to be the case wtf.

I’m literally begging ppl to learn to be normal about pregnancy and people who get pregnant.

[lunar-years]

🎵Can I ask you a question?🎵😉

Do you think that Jamie Tartt was actually angry at his father or that said anger was a motivation to him? I mean, he did say that he would say “fuck you” to his father, but it seems to me that Jamie’s tendency when he’s scared or feeling vulnerable is to cover it up with snappiness and apparent anger. (Maybe I’ve just read too much fic in which this is the case idk🤷🏻‍♀️😄.) Also, back in “Two Aces,” Jamie said that “[his mother] is the reason [he] works so hard”—not that he’s doing it because he hates his dad. And in the same episode in which he says he’d tell his dad “fuck you,” he says to Georgie that he doesn’t give a shit about James anymore. I just feel like Jamie is more scared of his dad than angry, but I would truly like to hear your opinion. Thank you!

hmmm...I guess I think it's complicated? Like yeah Jamie definitely has real anger towards his dad. When he says he'd want to say 'fuck you' to his dad I believe he was being 100% genuine. I wholeheartedly think Jamie would very much like to say 'fuck you' to that man. Yet if James Sr. suddenly appeared on the pitch at that moment, I'm not Jamie would have said it to him. Wanting to say it and being able to say it are two different things. In general, I read Jamie's anger as sort of an aftermath and response to his fear/vulnerability, if that makes sense? His tendency is to freeze/shrink in on himself/make himself small/not fight back when he's actually facing his father. And Jamie knows his father and knows the signs to look for to try and read his dad's moods, and he's gotten pretty damn good at assessing his dad as soon as he enters any room to determine whether he's walking into an interaction that's going to harm him. He watches for signs that his dad's already upset, whether he's at that particular state of drunkenness that most often seems to end in violence, whether the old man is out looking for a fight. Still, he's terrified at the same time he's looking that he's missing something, that he's going to miss one of those tip offs and be caught off guard and left vulnerable or hurt or humiliated (because his dad has historically been unpredictable). And his own knowledge of himself, that he isn't going to fight back, because he never has, sits with him too. As such, he's always got his guard up when he's around his dad and there's always an air of sort of anticipatory fear along with his annoyance/irritation/exhaustion/snappishness, etc.

And then in the after, when he's had time to sit with the fear he felt, and the small way his dad always always makes him feel, *that's* when I think he gets angry. In part it's anger and (temporary) hatred directed solely at his father, because he's let Jamie down again, and he's a complete arsehole ("my dad's a dick. not much you can do with that, is there?"), and Jamie knows he's not a good dad, but then slowly that anger, more times than not, warps around in his brain and eventually gets turned inwards towards himself. More than Jamie hates his dad, Jamie hates the way he himself acts around his dad. The way we see Jamie at Wembley is so antithetical to everything Jamie normally is. So I think Jamie's always fighting an internal battle between being pissed at his dad for hitting him and being pissed that he "let himself" get hit. He doesn't even *need* his dad, right? He's Jamie fucking Tartt! He was always going to be great long before he ever met that piece of shit, and he can be fucking great now without him. Right? He doesn't even care. In fact, he wants to tell his dad fuck you! So...then why can't he tell his dad fuck you? Whenever he goes to try, the words shrivel up and die, and he's back to being that same scared kid wanting his dad's approval. Jamie hates being that kid. He can't stop being that kid. That's what has him running off to a reality tv set. That's what has him running around Amsterdam trying to bury the past. He wants to outrun the person his dad makes him. He wants to outrun himself and he never can.

So I guess I say...all of the above? Jamie's motivation and drive and work ethic ultimately comes from who JAMIE is. Sure, he's a product of both his dad's violence and anger and his mum's love and care, but Jamie is very much his own person who is motivated to become a great footballer because he wants that for himself, not for anyone else. At the same time, yes he's angry at his dad, yes he's afraid of his dad, and yes, ultimately, he loves his dad and wants to be loved by him in return. All those emotions get mixed up in his head sometimes, and all of them are a part of who he is and all of them are valid emotions.

[holidayinhell]

Whumpay: Denied Medical Treatment

Ineffective Medical Care prompt :~)

Characters: punk/alcoholic Whumper, injured/in denial Whumpee CWs: dealing with a poorly performed amputation, denial of medical care, necrosis (ick), alcohol.

Whumpee clutched his hand tightly against his chest. It burned with an intensity he’d never felt before and the bandages were long overdue to be replaced; his entire forearm had swollen to nearly twice its normal size. A throbbing ache radiated from the inflamed flesh, a grim reminder of the wound beneath the soiled layers of fabric. 

Beads of sweat trickled down his face, partly from anxiety and partly from the fever that wracked his weakened body.

Whumpee heard a pair of boots clacking against the cement floor, getting louder and louder as they approached his cell.

The heavy door swung open.

A shiny metal flask ricocheted off the floor next to Whumpee, making him jump. The sharp clatter against the concrete gave him an immediate headache.

“Use this to disinfect it. I don’t have any more bandages so you're gonna have to figure that out,” voiced the tall, skinny silhouette from the doorway.

Whumpee blinked to focus his eyes through the wetness. He'd been crying for the better part of the day, and the fever made him disoriented.

“Will you look at it?” The captive said feverishly, desperately clutching his hand to his chest. His temples throbbed from the echo of the room and his hand was burning like hellfire beneath the bandages. “I don’t-- I can’t do it.”

“Nope. I’m over this.” Whumper yawned and rubbed his eyes, not showing an ounce of concern for his captive. Whumper didn't care if Whumpee was in pain. He felt nothing but pure fascination for Whumpee.

“You have whatcha need, man, now it’s time to shut the fuck up.” Hlanky figure swayed and leaned against the doorframe, clearly already drunk for the evening. The punk turned, dizzily reaching for the door handle to make his exit.

“Wait, please. I really need to go to the hospital.” Whumpee pled with the remainder of his energy. “God, it hurts. It hurts so much, so fucking much, and it’s.." he sniffled, "starting to smell, I think.” 

Hot tears rolled down Whumpee's cheeks. “If I don’t go to the doctor, I’m gonna.. I’ll....”

Die.

But he couldn’t say it. Saying it would make it real.

“Fine.” Whumper hissed, shuffling into the cell. “But you’ve gotta stop crying and screaming and shit. Seriously. I can’t hear anything upstairs and I don't really feel like tying you up."

Whumpee dying on him now would be a huge inconvenience. There was a burn ban in effect so he'd have to go the burial route, and he didn’t particularly feel like digging a massive fucking hole all weekend.

"… oh fuck, that does reek.” Whumper had been around more than his fair share of death, but he never got used to the smell.

“thank you...” Whumpee offered weakly as Whumper eased himself next to Whumpee, wobbling into a kneel.

He gripped the edge of the elastic fabric and unwrapped the multiple layers of bandages encasing his left hand. As Whumper unraveled the cocoon, each layer he revealed was more and more saturated with putrid bodily fluids. Both men gagged once the wrappings were fully removed, the rotten odor ten times more potent than before. The horrible rancid smell filled the small space, thick and suffocating.

Tears streamed down Whumpee’s cheeks, his breath hitched as he fought to stay silent. It was his body that smelled like death. His hand was decaying while it was still attached to him.

He’d been ignoring the wound for as long as he possibly could, naively wrapping new bandages over the old ones when they started to weep.

“That is fucking nasty.” Whumper’s jaw clenched in disgust as he pinched his pierced nose closed. “Sheeit.”

Whumpee steeled himself before looking down at his maimed hand for the first time. His finger stubs had become necrotic and were rotting away, the remaining flesh was blackened and shriveled and his entire hand was unnaturally pale.

He never could bear to look at the mutilated stubs after Whumper had amputated his fingers all those weeks ago, as if ignoring the injury would somehow make his fingers magically grow back. Looking down now, the memory of that horrific night was just as vivid as the moment it happened.

“I think the whole thing’s gonna have to come off.” Whumper quipped unsympathetically, reaching for the flask he’d thrown on the floor, and took a swig.

“There's no saving that. You'll go septic if we don’t chop it soon.” He said eyeing Whumpee's disgusting hand between sips. "Going septic means you die." He added.

His whole hand. Whumpee was going to lose his entire hand because he’d asked for water all those weeks ago…

“Just take me to the hospital…please. Take me to the hospital. I won’t say anything, I won't say anything about this, I won't say anything about you. I won’t say anything about this ever.” Whumpee begged softly but emphatically. “I'll even come back after... But I--I need a doctor.”

“Sorry Whumpee-boy. That ain’t happenin’.”

“I’ll die!” He urged.

“Hey, what’d I just fuckin’ say?! Quit. Screaming.”

“You’re going to let me die…” The captive’s eyes were wide and pleading, hopelessness beginning to set in. He screamed, “You did this to me! All I needed was water and you, you fucking killed me!”

“Easy now.” Whumper cautioned with a finger.

Whumpee couldn't be silenced. He shouted, “Did I really deserve th--?!”

Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s jaw and silenced him. He held Whumpee in a chokehold, the captive’s head snapped back as he was forced to meet Whumper’s gaze. 

“Keep going and see what I cut off next.”

The larger man shoved Whumpee’s face down. His chin crashed against the cement. Whumpee's vision went black for a moment, until something pressed against his mouth.

Whumper was forcing the metal flask between his lips.

“Drink it. All of it.”

Whumpee tried pulling away but Whumper grabbed the back of his neck and shoved the flask deeper into his mouth, tilting his head back.

The bitter liquid trickled down his throat. Whumpee’s nostrils burned from the alcohol, but he did as he was commanded and chugged the astringent liquor.

“See? I’m being nice. It’ll help you sleep.”

Whumpee removed his lips from the flask once he’d finished and glanced at his captor from under his heavy eyelids. Whumper was swaying drunkenly, the metal from his eyebrow ring flashing in the dim light. If only Whumpee had the same strength from before his captivity, he could have easily overpowered the drunk psychopath and made his escape.

“I need to go to the fucking hospital, you piece of shit.” Whumpee spat.

He never talked to his captor in such a way, ever.

The last time he’d asked for something it cost him three fingers, or maybe an entire hand, but he was too delusional to filter himself.

Whumper let out an amused chuckle at the sudden outburst.

Then, he sent the heel of his boot crashing into Whumpee’s jaw. 

The injured man let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Whumpee howled in agony, clutching at his aching cheek with his good hand as he shuffled into the far corner of the room. His cheek swelled with blood and dribbled down his lips, sending a river of red gushing down his chin.

“I’ll deal with you in the morning” Whumper warned, his voice low and menacing. “You’ll be sorry if I have to come down here again tonight.” 

He pulled the heavy door closed behind him.

Numbness slowly enveloped the blinding pain, carrying Whumpee to the brink of sleep. The alcohol that burned in his stomach was a welcome distraction to the foul smell emanating from his decaying fingers. And through some divine mercy, he drifted into a hazy realm between consciousness and oblivion…

((more Whump oneshots))

[smallestdogswilldie]

ok you know what makes me sad. as like a former self proclaimed misandrist man hater that would cry and scream about how much it sucks to live in a mans world etc etc etc put estrogen in the water fountains (was never a terf. yall can still die)

for anyone who is still… like that… how can you live in that hatred and misery every day. are women paid less yes are we denied reporductive care by old fart men who are going senile and some by some middle aged women yes. are men statistically like responsible for almost all violent crime and child crimes yes. the more you focus on this shit JUST TO GET MAD ? No ACTION? your fucking soul will get torn apart. genuienly whats the fucking point of just sitting in a circle and hating men. its such a stupid fucking “personality trait” to GENUINELY hate all men sorry babe but you are self harming your soul is shriveling. im sorry please cope. i dated a “””bi””” man because i “hated straight men” for 2 1/2 years…

tldr i hated “masculine” men so much i ended up in a loveless touch deprived relationship with a man who wouldnt touch me because he was actually gay (didnt feel the need to tell me this for 2 1/2 years..) nothing wrong with that but you see where my hatred of MASCULINITY landed me. in a relationship that was about to kill me from stress trying to figure out why i was untouchable because i chose the most feminine man in the midwest to date. hitting myself with sticks in the forest hoping someone would come kill me all because i refused to date a straight man. SWORE never to date a straight man. then i fucking did and hes normal. are they all? not at all. maybe i got lucky but im sorry. girls who are attracted to men but hate them genuinely just are in a cycle of not knowing how to pick them or of unresolved trauma. its on you to fix that. are they going to say sorry? no 😂 so YOU fix it because we all have to.

are the majority of straight cis men uneducated, rude, bigoted and kind of stupid? yes! literally yes. if you feel some type of way or anger towards men because of trauma i ABSOLUTELY understand. but we still gonna need a therapist tho girl. i cant even feel bad if you don’t address your issues and spew hatred at half the population for no other reason than to hear your own voice, and making no effort to heal yourself.

i like to believe, ground breaking statement here, that some straight men are actually great fucking people with manners and decorum and emotional intelligence. do you have to risk it to find them? yes. is it worth it? yeah. 1000000x over. there is beauty in TRUSTING SOMEONE. if they hurt you? ok ouch! do whatever has to be done to keep loving. you cannot shut yourself behind reinforced fucking bars because 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 men hurt you. easier said than done yes esp if you have trauma. do you have no desire to HEAL????? and become full of love again???? stop w the bullshit. like actually its tired childish and im going to say it its pessimistic, annoying and posionous. keep that shit to yourself until you resolve that shit. or dont and shut the fuck up!!!

some of us are trying to keep faith which you clearly have lost. and its a sick, stinky attitude to have. keep it to yourself because it makes anyone with a healthy relationship and attraction to men feel like a wet blanket. like sorry that happened to you and you havnt put any effort into healing and that you are seething with hate. its not my problem. survive like the rest of us and for your heart health, literally get help before you have a heart attack or get ulcers.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Fake Dating - TAZNC Day 1

It's @taznovembercelebration time again!!! My first card pull was "Fake Dating" (delicious, also, we're already off the rails). Want to take part too? Find to post here. You can write, draw, share thoughts, anything. It's just a fun time to talk about taz!

Anyway, have some Taakitz! Read below or on Ao3:

--

“Krav, Kraverooni, Kravino, please? Taako’s asking you from the bottom of his tiny shrivelled up husk of a heart.” 

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “You hand reared a litter of kittens you found in a bin bag.”

“Easy money, the resell on those.” Taako says all faux nonchalant, flipping his hand as if Kravitz didn’t sit up all night with him so they could take shifts to sleep but both woke up for every single feed alarm anyway.

“You kept three of them and gave the others away for free.” Kravitz says flatly, "... In fact!" He's worked up now, he's remembering "... You did home inspections for every one to check they'd be safe and happy." There’s no chance he’s going to let Taako pretend he doesn’t care. He cares often and passionately in various directions. “Anyway, who was the one who organised the letter writing campaign to Angus’ school when they tried to stop his soccer team’s funding and put it into the football team?”

“Anyone would have done that.”

“Did anyone else?”

“They might have.”

“If you didn’t?”

“If I didn’t.” There’s a long pause. “It’s not because I care though. Taako just didn’t want to see his sad little face.”

“Because you don’t care.”

“Because he takes up more room when he’s sad. It gets everywhere, the child mope. I’d have to scrub it out of the floors.”

“And why would he be moping here?”

“Because… I… It’s court ordered.”

“Uh huh.” Kravitz has him on the ropes.

“And there’s evidence of that, then, is there? If I googled your name I’d see the sentencing?”

“I had Google wiped by data assassins.”

“I assume you have a copy of the paperwork I could review?”

“Cats ate it.”

“Which ones?”

“This one!” Taako indicated Tiny Taco, who’s gnawing at the string of Kravitz’s shoe. Taako’s got him here, it’s plausible, but…

“Cats plural, who were the accomplices?” 

“You don’t know them. Strange cats, a bad crowd that Taco’s been hanging out with. I’ve tried telling him, Taco, son, they’re not worthy of your time, they’re leading you down a bad path, can’t you just play nicely with Garyl and Beans? But no, he worries me sick instead.”

“Taco’s a house cat.”

“He’s been running up massive phone bills.”

“How did they get in the house to eat the documents with him?”

“He pushed it under the door and they lady and the tramped it.”

“You have a porch, the cats aren’t allowed in the porch.”

“The back door.”

“Uh huh. And this flagrant fabrication is easier than admitting you want nice things for Angus?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll think I care.”

“You do care. I watch you care all the time! Today you cared at least three times before breakfast.”

“Nuh uh.” Taako’s squirming in place now, he can’t run though, it’s his house.

“Yuh huh. Who helped Grant with the papers to set up his juice stand?”

“Well it made sense, I set up Sizzle It Up so I knew what to do. It was a chance for Taako to show off.”

“You helped coach Sloane to ask Hurley out.”

“So she’d stop whinging about it to you. She was taking up my valuable Kravitz time.”

“You care about me then?”

“No.” Taako looks pained when he realises what he said and how quickly he said it. “Just the normal amount. The friends amount.”

Kravitz tries not to let it sting. Of course Taako just wants to be friends. It’s fine. Kravitz is a grown up, he can look after himself. He shouldn’t have let it get this far, shouldn’t have let his feelings get so deep. It’s fine, he can just change the subject, they don’t have to do this now, especially not with the current context. “You didn’t let Magnus pet the bear.” 

“I should have.” Taako says darkly. “Then I wouldn’t have had needed to listen to him complain all the way home.” 

“Also you didn’t want him to die?” Kravitz asks casually, trap closing.

“I’m not a monster.”

“Show off, I can’t believe you’d be so insensitive.” Kravitz flops backwards onto the chair, hand across his eyes.

Taako throws a cushion at him. “Come off it, you love it, wolf boy.”

Kravitz sits up, grins to show off his slightly-sharper-than-they-should-be teeth. “Sounds like I’m not the only one.”

“It’s such a good club, Krav. Lup and Magnus are always saying how fabulous it is there, and who’s more fabulous than Taako?” 

“Good point. I can’t think of many people.” He means it, is the problem, Kravitz can’t think of anyone more fabulous, more funny, more handsome… nope!

“Then you see why Taako’s solution is perfect?”

Ah fuck. They’re back to where they started.

“Why me?”

“Do you know any other single werewolves who’d be down to fake-date Taako into The Starblaster?”

Kravitz growls low and slow, surprises himself just as much as Taako. “Er. That… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” Kravitz flings himself off the sofa, dives towards the toilet, slams the lock home, and tries not to let the panic take hold. Maybe Taako didn’t even notice? How often was he even around werewolves? Did he even know what that was? Like, fine, yes, his sister was married to Barry, and Magnus was married to Julia, and Taako was part of their families and he’d seen the dating process up close, and… fuck. No no, it was fine. He was psyching himself out unnecessarily. Barry told him all the time that he worried too much, ocerthought everything, this was fine, good even, he’d just say that it was a cough if Taako asked.

Kravitz splashes his face with cool water. It doesn't help as much as he hoped, but it was worth a go. "It's fine." He says firmly to his own reflection. "He didn't even notice."

“So I couldn’t help but notice…” Taako says, the second Kravitz re-enters the room. It’s probably too late to go hide again. “... that you might be feeling a bit possessive when it comes to other weres dating yours truly.”

“It was a cough.” Says Kravitz, not even convincing himself.

“Uh huh.” Taako isn’t convinced either. “You know, the only condition of getting into The Starblaster is that you're a were or you’re dating one.”

“I’m aware.” Kravitz cannot believe Taako is still focused on the club while simultaneously tearing away the carefully constructed wall Kravitz has been using to hide his ridiculous unwanted feelings for months. Doesn't he care? He could at least be offended. The indifference hurts.

“Well it doesn’t have to be fake. I didn’t realise you’d be down.”

“Are you offering to sleep with me to get into the stupid club?” Kravitz is angry now, furious. He thought they were friends, he thought Taako wanted some kind of relationship with him - even if it was just friendship, he would have been happy with friendship. He doesn’t want this, it should be special, not just some flippant transactional thing.

“No! I’m offering to sleep with you because I like you, you idiot.”

“Wait, did you just proposition me, confess you have a crush on me, and call me an idiot in the same breath?” Kravitz didn’t know whether to be offended or elated, settles on something in the middle.

“Sounds about right. Wanna kiss about it?” 

Kravitz does, in fact, want to kiss about it, but first he needs to know what is going on. “You like me? Romantically like me?” 

Taako arches an eyebrow and looks peeved about the lack of kissing. “Obviously.”

“For the club?”

“A bit for the club.” Taako’s forehead wrinkles. “It’s really cool. I’m not going to lie to you. But that’s more a perk of the boning, not the reason for it.”

Kravitz sinks down onto the sofa. Taako likes him back, Taako likes him back and not just because he wants to go to the stupid club.

“If anything, the boning will be the biggest perk of the boning.” Taako says cheerfully, pats him on the shoulder.

“Why are you like this?” Kravitz asks through his hands, face buried.

“You love it.” Taako says, plonking himself down next to Kravitz and throwing an arm around him. “Can we skip to the kissing bit now, or do I need to tell you about how I was gonna fake date you so hard you’d forget we weren’t real dating?”

“Can we do both?”

“You want me to talk through the kisses?”

“Between them?”

“Fine, but it’s a talk sandwich, kissing bread.”

“Kissing bread.” Kravitz extracts his face from his hands, sits up, and nods solemnly.

“Here we go!” Taako says, leaning in. 

“No!” Kravitz scoots backwards. “That was terrible, awful. Our first kiss is not going to be prefaced by “here we go!””

“You do better then.” Taako’s arms are crossed and he’s doing the frowny thing and Kraivtz is going to kiss every grumpy furrow out of his brow.

“I’ve wanted to do this for months.” Says Kravitz simply, makes it inches from Taako’s lips before he pulls back.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just be all suave out of nowhere. What am I supposed to say to top that?”

“You don't need to top it, it’s not a competition.”

“It could be. If it was.”

“Well it isn’t.” Kravitz says firmly. He reaches for Taako, trying to draw him back in. They were so close to finally getting it together.

“Buckle up, sweetlips.”

Kravitz stands, horrified. “Taako! What… why would you?”

Taako’s too busy laughing to answer. “Your… your face!” He gasps out.

“Do you want to kiss or not?” Kravitz is trying not to be petulant, he’s trying so hard, he’s failing.

Taako dives forward and crashes their mouths together. Kravitz can’t entirely tell when his mouth opened, or when exactly Taako started to nip at his lip, but it’s good, it’s great, even. Kravitz’s hands pull Taako closer, closer, closer, cradle his face, weave into his hair, help pull him down when he moves to straddle Kravitz’s lap. It’s messy and passionate and perfect, he doesn’t want it to end.

“Wanna kiss or not?” Taako pulls back, then snorts with laughter.

“I would love to do more kisses, why don’t you come back down here?” Kravitz asks, running a hand over Taako’s chest in what he hopes is an alluring manner.

“No, you said… I… it’s perfect. “Wanna kiss or not?” and then we did. That’s how we got together.” He collapses onto Kravitz’s chest, giggling furiously.

“You tricked me!” 

Taako laughs harder.

“We’re going to have to tell people that when they ask.” Kravitz says, aghast. He really doesn't want to have to tell anyone this story.

Taako attempts to sit back, taking a moment to collect himself. “We’re going to <i>get&lt;/i> to tell people when they ask. What a gift!”

“A gift.” Kravitz repeats, quietly, carefully. 

“Hey Krav?”

“Yes Taako?” 

“I think you’re great.”

“I think you’re great too.”

“Wanna kiss about it?”

Kravitz cups Taako’s face, brings it gently, reverently towards him like Taako’s the most precious thing in the world. He might be in this moment. Kravitz kisses each cheek softly, then his nose, his forehead, and finally his lips. It’s gentle, tentative, full of care.

Taako pulls back. “You’re going to tell people this was what happened, aren’t you?”

“Yep!” Kravitz says happily, pressing their lips together again.

“Fine. But I’m telling the real story.” Taako says huffily before kissing a firm line from Kravitz’s collar bone to his jaw. “The people need to know.”

“Uh huh.”  Kravitz is finding it harder to focus on anything but the insistent kisses on his neck and the hands working themselves down his chest. “Gotta give the people the…” He tails off as Taako’s teeth graze his neck. “What… they… it’s science.”

“Uh huh.” Taako replies. “Great point.”

“No more words, just kissing.” Kravitz tugs Taako closer again.

“Are you going to tell people this bit too?” Taako asks. 

“Ssssh.” Kravitz kisses Taako again. “Nothing about other people, just about us.”

“Just us.” Taako nods. “And how much fun we’re going to have at The Starblaster.”

Kravitz sighs.

“Hey Krav?” Taako noses at his cheek.

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad we figured it out.”

“Me too, Taako. Me too.” 

--

Thank you for reading! You can find the next day here.

[whumperofworlds]

Whumptober 2024 Day 5: Heat

Now on AO3!

TAGS: @gala1981 @whumptober-archive @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @rebelxwriter @expressionless-fr

@fourwingedsnake @whumble-beeee @whumpninja @kingxlinkwrites

CWS: Heatstroke, nausea mention, argument, comfort, female whumpee, female caretaker whumpee x caretaker.

Fandom: Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles

A/N: Nothing to say here! Let's roll!

I only own Merle, Fina, Ambra, Hareth, Gulru, and Egan. Everything else belongs to Square Enix.

ENJOY!

_____

Healing salve / Heatstroke / "If my pain will stretch that far."

The Lynari Desert was a dangerous location, according to locals. With the intense heat and the quicksand spots that littered the desert, not to mention the monsters, the Tipa caravanners had to be careful as they traversed. Lest they would die and shrivel up in the desert heat.

Right now, Merle and Fina separated with the group to find materials. Merle was walking fine—being a Yuke, she didn't have to worry about the heat, as she was just a suit of armor. She didn't need to drink anything unless it was to heal her wounds.

Her girlfriend, Fina, on the other hand, wasn't doing well. She was shaky on her feet, and her attacks even had less accuracy than normal. Usually, the Selkie was accurate when it came to landing blows. Merle knew that something was wrong, but decided not to push it—right now, they had to focus on getting materials.

After another hard battle, Merle realized that Fina wasn't doing well at all. She tilted her head, studying her lover for a moment. Her skin was red, her face more so, and she was panting. Likely from the heat exhaustion.

"Fina," Merle began.

Fina turned to face her, one of her eyes twitching in agitation. "What?" She groaned.

Merle took a step back when Fina answered her that way. Usually, she teases Merle, even making jokes. But her being agitated was… unusual. She never saw Fina angry or irritable.

"Are you okay?" She questioned.

Fina hmphed, shaking her head. "I'm fine, Mer. Just need to find the right materials."

"...You are definitely not well," Merle pointed out. "I can tell. Your fighting prowess wasn't the best in that fight, and it seems like you are about to pass out."

"I'm fine, Merle," Fina growled, not even bothering to call Merle by her pet name. "Once we get the stuff we need, we'll be outta here."

"You need rest, Fina," Merle sighed. While Fina was the teasing type, she can be stubborn at times. Merle talking to her usually helped Fina not be stubborn, but the Yuke noted that it wasn't working right now. "You are more likely to pass out if you keep going."

"Sheesh," Fina let out an annoyed sigh, "can't you be any more annoying? Look, we got a mission to do; we can't back out now!"

Merle sighed again, shaking her head. Of course. This heat would irritate even the calmest of people. It was only natural that Fina was like this. "Fina, I do not want to argue. It's for the best that you get rest."

"Didn't you hear me?!" Fina cried, her voice going up to nearly a point of screaming, "We. Have. Stuff. To do! Good Cosmos, Merle, can't you take a hint for once in your life?!"

Merle took a step back; if she had eyes, they would be wide right now at Fina's outburst. Fina never acted like this; when she was in the wrong, she would usually apologize and vowed to not do it again. But the heat was apparently getting the best of her, and it worried Merle.

"Fina—" Merle tried to protest.

"I don't wanna hear it," Fina cried, "just leave me alone and—"

Dizziness took a hold of Fina, as she held her head. She groaned, nausea hitting her. Her skin grew redder, and sweat poured down her face so much Merle feared that she would be dehydrated right now. The Yuke watched as Fina swayed from side to side like a ship on rocky waters.

"Fina?" Merle questioned, her voice laced with concern.

"I…" Fina whispered. "I don't. I don't feel so good…"

Without warning, Fina fell on the desert's sandy floor; the last thing she heard was Merle's cry of her name before darkness took her.

____

Fina groaned, darkness in the corners of her eyes as she began to wake up. Her head throbbed somewhat, although the dizziness wasn't as bad as it was last time. Something cool was on her forehead, and her skin was a little cooler to the touch. Was she saved? What happened?

"O-oh! She's waking up!"

Fina recognized Gulru's voice, as her vision began to clear up. A wooden ceiling met her sight, but she recognized it right away. She was in the caravan's carriage, safe from the heat.

Hovering over her were her friends—Ambra, Hareth, Gulru, even Egan. The others were somewhere, likely close by. And Fina noted that Merle was nowhere to be found.

"What…" Fina questioned, "what happened?"

"You passed out in the Lynari Desert," Ambra answered, "Oh Cosmos, you had us worried when Merle brought you to us!"

"...Merle?" She asked, "She saved me?"

"Yeah," Hareth said with a nod, "she looked upset about what happened, and she told us to take care of you while she was gone."

Merle was gone? Where was she?

"She's in the Lynari Desert now, getting supplies," Egan spoke up, as if he read Fina's mind, "she said she'll be back in an hour."

Fina's eyes shot wide then, as she sat up quickly. However, the dizziness hit her again, and she grunted in pain as she held her head. Ambra and Hareth gasped when Fina tried to sit up, before Ambra gently pushed her down.

"Fina—" Ambra protested.

"Merle! She could be—"

"She's fine, Fina," Hareth tried to soothe, "she's stronger than you'd think."

"But she could be lost! She—"

"F-Fina?" Gulru spoke up in his soft voice. "I'm sure she's okay. Not only is she strong, b-but Yukes like her and me don't have to deal with the heat. She'll be fine, I-I'm sure of it."

Gulru's words relaxed Fina somewhat. While she was worried for her beloved Merle, she knew that Gulru was right. Merle had fought through worse than what happened today, and with her powerful magic, she could go through anything no problem.

"I…" Fina sighed, "Okay. It's just that… I yelled at her and—"

"Merle forgives you," Ambra interrupted with a small smile. "She knew that the heatstroke was getting you, so she didn't think of what you said."

"...Are you sure?" Fina asked. She wanted to apologize to her girlfriend for screaming at her, but…

"She'll be just fine," Egan said with a nod, "Once you get some rest and she comes back, I'm sure things will be fine."

Fina let out a sigh, placing a hand on the wet cloth that was on her forehead. "Thanks, guys. You're all the best."

"Of course," Ambra giggled. "Get some rest. We'll check up on you in a few hours, okay?"

Fina nodded, settling on the sheets that she was laying in. The sheets felt cold, like she was laying on a large ice cube, and she couldn't help but smile as she fell asleep.

____

Fina woke up again, blinking as she realized it was dark out. She wasn't sure how long she had slept, but from how dark it was, it was nighttime.

She glanced around her surroundings. The other caravanners were asleep, all curled up in their sleeping bags. Beside Fina was a flask of water. She smiled slightly, grabbing the flask before downing it. Cosmos, she was more thirsty than she thought, as she emptied the flask in one gulp. Feeling the water energizing her again, she sighed. She needed something like that, and she was grateful to have good friends like the caravanners.

She glanced at the others again, noting that Merle was missing. She frowned; did Merle ever come back from the Lynari Desert? Of course, she had faith in her girlfriend that she would pull through, but she couldn't help but worry.

She slowly left the cool sheets, as she left the carriage. Glancing around with her keen eyesight, she spotted a silhouette of what appeared to be a Yuke, sitting beside the smoldering campfire.

She recognized the Yuke. Merle.

She frowned, remembering the moment she yelled at Merle. While the heatstroke made her irritable, she didn't mean to hurt her girlfriend that way. Merle didn't deserve to be yelled at for something the Yuke was right about.

She approached, before sitting beside Merle. Merle glanced at her for a second, before looking at the campfire again. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, as Fina tried to wrack her mind on how to talk to her.

All she could say was, "I'm sorry."

Merle looked at her again, tilting her head. "For…?"

Fina raised a brow. Did she even remember when she yelled at her? "For yelling at you. You're right as always, and I shouldn't have yelled at you for it. So… I'm sorry."

Merle scooted closer to Fina, placing a wing on Fina's hand. "It's okay. I'm not mad."

"...You're not?"

"I promise," Merle replied with a nod. "I was more worried than anything. The heatstroke was so bad, the others thought you would die from it. I…" She turned, before enveloping Fina into a hug. Fina blinked in shock. "...am so glad that you're okay."

Fina glanced up at her girlfriend, a small smile on her face. The guilt faded away when Merle said this. Merle forgave her, and everything was all right.

"I'll listen to you if something like that happens again," Fina whispered, sharing the hug. "I don't want my Mer to worry over me again."

"It's my job to worry over you, love," Merle giggled, "you're the love of my life."

"And I worry over you too, dear," Fina giggled back, snuggling closer to her beloved.

The two stared at the campfire for an hour until the two fell asleep in each other's arms, the midnight breeze cooling off Fina after that harrowing incident. She knew that she was safe, here, with her Mer.

[sansloii]

SHIPPING SPARK NOTES: MIKAH NOLAND-ROUX ( bio can be found here )

Things people should know about them going into it all:

semi - difficult on the shipping scale. Slow to trust but falls FAST once the trust and friendship is there. Getting them to admit that directly is another story but they show it. doesn't cope well with breakups

"live fast, die young" was written about mikah fr. Except they can't die. do not go in trying to "fix" them. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. they are very stubborn.

Is afraid of getting their partner killed. does not want to ruin anything for anyone that has a "normal" life.

pushes boundaries and buttons like nobody's business, not egregiously so or in an attempt to fix anyone. prepare to butt heads sometimes and be prepared to give them shit for it if. can't be a pushover with them because they'll get bored.

have to be okay with how close they are to Evan. don't have to like him but can't like… hate him because to them, that's a red flag. they don't feel anything romantic towards him in most verses.

Details:

Mikah is not someone who is looking for a relationship, so any romantic relationship will have to come as a result of friendship/ friendly rivalry or something akin to that. They keep their feelings pretty close to the chest and in order to get a genuine glimpse of them that's not played up or an act, one would need to get close to them. This tends to be a bit difficult due to how abrasive they can be at times, even if they don't actively dislike someone. They'll be… a bit more surface-level nice if said person is blond ( because they do have a preference for them ) but even then, its not by much. it's like a man ( or woman ) having money — they will not love you based on that... but, boy, it helps. Mikah is an equal opportunity button pusher and needs an Equally Opportunistic button pusher to keep them in line. They're a brat and they bite ( both figurative and literally ).

Their sex drive toes the line between medium and low but they are very touchy. They like being in their partner's space for no other reason than to be in it — as physical touch ( not necessarily sexual, at first, and definitely more sensual ) is their strongest "love language". It can be as small as handholding here and there, or a squeeze of their shoulder or thigh, leaning on them, etc — it just need to be a factor in the relationship. They are prone to teasing their partner with these touches as well, as they pay attention to the spots that elicit reactions and how they're touched.

i'll make a kink list for them, and all the others save for lawali, at some point but that boundary pushing, that needling, doesn't just stop... outside the bedroom. if i had to assign mikah roles without being cheeky about it or making fun of them, they are truly a switch. leans towards being submissive or a service role as well. some forewarning:

mikah has limited sexual experience. they are not a sex god and shit will get little awkward with them at first. they're not ashamed of that and they're not shy about wanting to have more. their partner has to be patient with them. getting frustrated with them because of experience is their number one turn-off.

that does not mean their partner has to hold their hand, though, or... put them in a box for a specific role permanently because they need a little push. like i said, they bite. Hard.

leans away from casual flings because it just... doesn't do it for them. is more likely to have one with a friend or someone they're close to if there are some feelings involved but it's not a guarantee — they are just as likely to say no at least once before they give it a second thought.

all that said... they are open to exploring their partner's kinks, as well as exploring those that they haven't. so long as they are not made to feel uncomfortable or pressured to do something they don't want to, mikah is down. all that confidence doesn't just shrivel up as soon as things get spicy and if anyone expects it to, they're playing themselves.

tl;dr — Mikah's legitimately like a cat. will tell you to fuck off for 2 hours and then come over when you're doing something unrelated to them.