#and me ever the thoughtful child told my parents not to do it because it costs money and i was fine with this very vague answer about what

[fabdante]

Any headcanons for reboot Dante and medical trauma?

Side note: Considering Vergil got adopted by a rich family and presumably had regular doctor's visits and such, presumably Nephilim blood + DNA and such doesn't look any different than regular human DNA. Which... feels like it should be wrong, since Nephilim aren't human, so there's gotta be some differences there somewhere, right? Maybe it just looked normal because of whatever spell Sparda (and maybe Eva?) put on the twins?

I always figured based on that one line from Vergil about meningitis being a human sickness and thus, Dante can't catch it, that both of the twins just don't really get sick or have any medical issues. So due to that and Dante's slew of bad foster homes, that he probably just like...never went to the doctor.

I do however think that once he got in the Order, the medical division there probably ran some tests on him at Vergils behest. I'm sure the details they were given were slim and they'd probably run the same tests on Vergil before, but Vergil probably wanted something to compare to. Dante is cooperative, but talks and moves too much which is annoying when you're trying to draw blood (he talks with his hands and likes to touch things).

As for Vergil, I similarly don't think he ever got sick so only ever really went to the doctor for check ups. I guess I maybe based this on my own experiences but I never really got blood draws as a kid until they started testing me for anemia and thalassemia (anemia but worse if you have the major strain and Mediterranean). Which maybe was a result of my deathly fear of needles up until I started getting like frequent blood tests? But idk regardless it sort of led me to assume that Vergil, being the picture of health to his pediatrician, never got his blood drawn asdfghjk

The idea though that he's just got his former pediatrician out there wondering what the fuck was up with that kids blood is very funny to me. Like, I just figured all Sparda did was wipe the kids memories so any difference in their blood would be noticeable still for medical professionals. So this guy can see somethings up but is not equipped to figure out what and the kid seems fine so asdfghj let him be.

That said, and regardless of how aware he is that he is immune to human germs, I also headcanon Vergil to be a germaphobe and a hypochondriac (he has a vibe also as a fandom we all seemed to have taken in the fanon that he just never takes off the gloves and this all just rolled with it dfghjkl). He's probably always hated doctors offices and made a fuss about being there and did not trust the needles for his booster shots. Once he figured out he didn't need to go, he definitely stopped going asdfghjk. The idea of someone who is immune to all illness and disease who is incredibly afraid of it anyway is very silly and fun to me, love that about him.

[kn11ves]

emotional support group for autistics who got called condescending and rude as kids just for responding to things directly and still not knowing how they were being mean

[solaaresque]

day 874392857 of ??? where i am so fucking tired of this house and the people inside it that killing myself is looking better and better each day :/

[hioyourluv]

I don't know why the thought of people drinking and having fun triggers me so much. I think it's because of the family reunions I had to go with my mom when I was a kid and they had so much fun drinking and blasting music and I could not have that so I was just sit in a chair next to my mom or in her lap because I didn't have anything more to do other than watch them chat about everything. All I ever had to do was watch them laugh loudly while I was filled with that all boredom inside of me and I couldn't do anything to join them.

There were the adults, there were the kids, and there was me. A too mature child, the middle, the none. The "thing"

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[sinofwriting]

Raised to Love - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 6,992 Summary: Drivers are shocked to find out that pretty much rookie Max Verstappen is married. Note(s)/Warnings: This fic is DARK! Taking place between 2002-2017. There's child abduction, mentions/talks of death, mentions/talks of underage sex, mentions/talks of sex, mentions/talks of periods, dubious consent. Jos is both somehow a better and worse person in this. Sophie and Jos are still married, Victoria and all of Max’s other siblings don’t exist. Inspired by Season 4 Episode 13 of Criminal Minds.

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2002

Tears are slipping down her face and she keeps rubbing at her eyes, small whines leaving her, but they won’t stop and her mom isn’t rubbing her back, trying to get her to calm down, her dad isn’t holding her and she cries harder. She wants her mom and dad, she wants them. But they aren’t here. She’s alone and in this room that’s cold and blank and she wants them.

She hiccups, eyes hurting and her hands can’t keep rubbing, tired of doing it. Sniffling, she turns on the small bed, burying her face in the pillow, even though her mom always tells her not to do it before turning her over. The tears fall faster now. She wants her mom. She wants her dad.

And now all she can think about is them sitting in the front of the car, completely still, not responding no matter how much she shouted or kicked at the back of her dads seat. How she was pulled out of the car through the window by a firefighter and how another one was talking about how her parents were dead.

They couldn’t be dead though, because her grandparents were dead, in heaven, her dad had told her. And they had been talking to each other just a minute ago. They were going to get dinner and candy because she had been a good girl. That thought had made her curl up in the firefighter's arms, lip trembling, because she had been shouting and kicking the seat, she had been naughty.

And then when she got to the hospital, a nice nurse had given her candy despite her being bad and held her hand as another one cleaned her up. She even let her pick out a stuffed animal to have. It was okay, even though she kept asking where her parents were until another lady had come in. She had crouched down in front of and told her that her parents were dead.

She shakes her head at the memory of the lady's face and her words. She didn’t want to believe that her mom and dad were dead. But they weren’t here, they should be here. They wouldn’t ever leave her by herself, alone, and in this room.

Lifting her head slightly, she sucks in a large breath of air, the pillow soaked in her tears and warm. As she takes another breath, she doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening and shutting.

She wants to bury her face in the pillow again, but her nose hurts from it and it’s gross and wet. Turning over, sits up, her small legs going up to her chest as she presses her back against the wall. It’s then that she notices the man in the room with her.

She stiffens at the sight, eyes going wide, and the blank expression that had been on his face softens.

“Hello.” “Hi.” She greets, voice quiet as she wraps her arms around her legs. “You were crying. Is everything okay?” Her bottom lip trembles and she shakes her head. “My mom and dad,” Her voice breaks. “The lady told me they're dead.” “I’m sorry. Are you waiting for your grandparents or an aunt?” She shakes her head. He frowns and then he moves, sitting on the bed with her, though he is at the foot.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is a little louder as she says it. ‘My name is Jos.” “Hi Jos.” He smiles. “How old are you?” “Four.” “I have a son that turned five recently.” Her arms loosen around her legs. “What’s his name?” “Max. He’s at home right now, I think, trying to convince my wife to get a puppy.” Her eyes widen and her arms drop, legs falling away from her chest. “Do you have a puppy? I’ve always wanted one.” “No.” He laughs and she frowns. “But I want dogs, so does my wife and Max. We just have been waiting.” “For what?’ She asks, head cocked to the side. Jos laughs again. “Special occasion, I suppose.”

She frowns as one of the things the lady said to her as they were in the car on the way over pops into her head. “Jos. Do you think whoever I stay with will have dogs?” “I don’t know.” Her frown grows. “Do you think they’d let me get a dog?” He shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” “Oh.” Her voice is quiet. “But, I’m sure I could talk to Anna about you coming home with me. That would be a special occasion. You and Max could both get your own dog.” “Really?” He nods. “Really.” She scrambles towards him, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Jos!” “Of course. Now let's get you to your new home.”

—

“Do you know who's coming today?” Max nods, small brows furrowed together, looking so much like his father, she wants to take a picture. “My wife.” She’s proud of the way his nose doesn’t wrinkle, no disgust clinging to his words. Max thinking girls were gross wouldn’t do. “Papa never said, but is it the one I choose?” Sophie smiles, remembering how Jos had shown him a bunch of girls and the way Max had seen the one and just kept looking, had easily chosen her. “Yes. Papa was able to get the one you chose.” He smiles and she runs a hand through his hair. “Will they be here soon?” She spares a look at the clock. “Yes. Papa had to drive a bit away, but he should be here soon. Why don’t you come and help me set up her room.”

It was pretty much already set up, but Max could rearrange some of the toys and books, place them how he’d like. She expects him to nod, eager, but he looks confused.

“But mama, if she’s my wife, why isn’t sleeping in my room?” She coughs to hide a laugh. “You two are much too young for that, Max. And you don’t know each other yet. Maybe in a few years you two can share a room.” In ten years, maybe, she privately thinks. “But what if I want to share a room now?” Her eyes narrow. “Max.” His eyes drop to the floor and she sighs. “You two could have sleepovers in your room, not every night, but some nights if you’d like.” He nods, but still doesn’t look at her. “Can I go help set up her room?” “Of course.”

She watches fondly as Max clumsily copies things he’s seen her do when making his bed, adjusting the blankets, fluffing the pillows before he moves onto the small amount of toys she bought, not wanting to buy too many without knowing what the girl did and didn’t like.

He frowns at them before he’s darting out of the room, she thinks of calling after him, but she can hear him moving down the hallway and then into what she thinks is his room. Only a minute passes before he’s back, a stuffed animal in his grasp. Walking towards the bed, he carefully places the toy so it’s resting against the pillows and she nearly gasps seeing what it is.

“Max, that’s Leo.” “I know.” “Sweetheart, you don’t have to give her Leo. Leo’s yours.” He shakes his head. “We’ll share. I want her to have it right now.” Her heart melts at the answer. “Are you sure?” She double-checks. “I’m sure.” “Alright.”

2008

Crawling out of bed, she shivers as the cold air of her room hits her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tiptoes away from her bed and to her door. One of her arms leaves her to slowly twist the knob, making sure it slowly opens. As soon as it’s open enough for her body to slip through, she does. Her feet taking an all too familiar path.

Opening the next door, she does the same as she did with hers, slipping through the tiniest gap possible before shutting it behind her. The words of the maid ring in her head now that she stands in the room. How wrong this is, how inappropriate it is, how wanton she is. She doesn’t know what wanton means, but the way she said it had made her flush, bottom lip trembling as she made herself smaller.

The reminder makes her hunch, teeth finding her lip and she wants to go back to her room, she doesn’t want to be wanton. But her room is cold and the nightmare she had is lurking in the back of her mind. And sure this room is cold too, but Max is here. And she knows if she slips under the covers with him that it will be warm and he’ll even at least wrap an arm around her if not his whole body.

A shiver hits her and she darts over to the bed, slipping under the covers.

“Flower?” Max mumbles. “It’s me.” She says, feeling warm on the inside at the nickname he gave her six years ago when she met him. He makes a small noise and then his whole body is curling around hers and she can’t help but sink into it, sink into him.

She tries to fall asleep, but the word wanton just rings in her mind.

“Max.” She whispers. “Hmm.” She twists in his arms, making them face to face. “What does wanton mean?” “What?” His voice is full of sleep and his eyes are starting to open. “What does wanton mean?” His nose wrinkles, “I don't know. Why?” “Mrs. Loeh told me I was wanton.” “I,” he’s squinting as he looks at her. “I don’t know. I’ll ask my mom at breakfast, okay?” She nods before pressing closer to him. “Okay. Thank you, Max.” “Of course, Flower.”

2012

She stares in shock at the blood on the toilet paper. “Sophie!” She calls, voice nearly a shriek. She knew what this was, Sophie had told her about her body changing, getting a period, but this. This couldn’t be normal. There was so much. It was nearly bleeding through the toilet paper before she let it go.

She hears two different voices say her name, one far louder and closer than the other and she starts to see the door knob turn. “Max, no!” The doorknob stops. “What’s wrong?” “I need Sophie.” “Flower, what’s going on?” The knob started to turn again. “Please, no!” She begs and tears are starting to form in her eyes. “I’ll tell you later, I just need Sophie.” She watches as the door knob stays paused and then hears a sigh from Max before the doorknob is released.

“Max, go to the living room.” She breathes a sigh of relief at Sophie’s voice. “But mama.” “Go.” She can hear him stomping away and can imagine the frown on his face as he curses in his mind.

A small knock sounds on the door. “Can I come in, darling?” “Please.” Sophie easily slips inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind her quickly. “Oh, darling. What happened?” She looks down at where her legs are pressed together. “I,” she hiccups. “I started my period.” “Oh darling.” And Sophie is right beside her, giving her an affection tap of the fingertip to her temple. “It’s alright. I know, it’s a bit scary, huh?” She nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood.” “Well, it’s probably that heavy because this is your first cycle. Mine was like that as well, but it lightened up after a few months, and birth control helps as well with that.” Blood rushes to her cheeks at the mention of birth control. “I’m a late bloomer, aren’t I?” “A bit.” Sophie allows. “I told you about this two years ago for a reason. I didn’t think you’d be nearly fifteen.” “Am I okay?” “Of course. Everyone is a bit different. If you want though, we can talk about it with the doctor. Make sure that everything is okay.” “Please?” She asks and Sophie smiles. “I’ll schedule it right after this. Now, let me show you again everything you're gonna need.”

She watches and listens intently as Sophie shows her everything. It’s overwhelming and she wants to cry, just lay in bed, bury her head in Max’s pillow and cry. She’s thankful when Sophie slips out of the bathroom as she still sits on the toilet. Is ever more thankful when as she begins to stand, pulling up her underwear and shorts and it’s like she can feel it wanting to drip out.

The pad in her underwear is weird, but nothing compared to the new weird sensation of feeling like she’s leaking. It makes her want to sit back on the toilet and never leave. What if she didn’t change her pad in time and bled through? The thought leaves her mortified and as she leaves the bathroom after washing her hands thoroughly, she darts into her bedroom, forgetting her promise to Max.

Laying on her bed, she makes a face, trying to find a comfortable position, everything feeling weird. Maybe she’d buy a pad or a mattress protector, maybe both with how weird this felt. It would help any mess that might happen as well if she leaked.

Rolling onto her side, she smiles at Moos. The ten-year-old dog looks back at her, head resting on her front paws. “Where’s Freckles?” “The backyard.” She turns, Max stands at the entrance of her room, a look she doesn’t think she’s ever seen on his face before. “It’s later.”

Blood rushes to her face at the words, at the reminder that she promised she’d tell him what’s going on, and she has to tell him. She tells Max everything, always has. And he does the same to her. It’s why she found out when she was six that Max and her were going to get married, that he picked her. That and he was confused about her wanting to play house and how he had to play the husband because they were already husband and wife in his six-year-old mind.

She nearly smiles at the reminder that Max picked her. He’s told her a few times over the years about it. The memory is still so strong in his mind, despite it now being a decade ago. The way he had looked at a bunch of girls in an array of photos, but she immediately caught his eye, was drawn to her and the flower behind her ear.

He snaps his fingers and she can feel Moos stand up before she gets off the bed, no longer leaping in her old age. Max moves into the room, leaving the door open as Moos slips out before shutting it behind the dog.

“What happened?” He asks, approaching the bed and she cranes her neck to fully see his face. Her face feels like it’s burning. It feels embarrassing telling Max this, about this, even though they’ve talked about far weirder and gross things. Maybe, and her eyes drop staring at the hollow of his throat as she thinks, it’s because this means they can finally have sex.

The thought alone makes her swallow, breaths turning a little shallow as she imagines it. Max and her have done a lot of fooling around since his birthday last year. He knows how to speed her heart up with just a brush of his fingers. She knows how much he loves the feeling of her boobs pressed against his chest, bare or covered. Their breaths intertwined with soft pants as they move together, at least one piece of clothing still separating them.

She’s broken away from the thoughts by a hand under her chin, drawing her face up. “Flower.” “I,” she pauses, eyes darting around before settling on his face when she feels his thumb and forefinger gently apply a little pressure to her chin. “I started my period.” His brows are furrowed for a moment then his face smoothes out, mouth dropping into a ‘O’ shape, the fingers and hand under her chin disappearing.

“Are you hurting? Cramps?” “No.” She shakes her head. “It just,” and her voice is quieter than before. “It feels gross, like leaking.” His head cocks to the right. “Even with the pad thing? Is it not working?” “It is. I think it’s just how it can feel.” “I’m sorry. Can I do anything?” She glances at the empty space in the bed next to her. “Lay with me?” He smiles, a laugh shaking his body. “Of course, flower.”

2014

“I have an F1 seat.” “You have an F1 seat.” The shock is so clear on his face it makes her giggle and he immediately smiles, but that shock still lingers behind it.

“Max Verstappen,” She begins, watching as his eyebrows draw together, fingers twitching before his hands settle on her hips. “Youngest F1 driver ever, youngest to score points, youngest on the podium, youngest to win a grand prix.” She doesn’t know if the last three will be true, but she hopes they will be, thinks they will be. “You think so? I mean, it’s just a seat in Toro Russo.” “It’s not just a seat at Toro Russo.” She laughs, feeling flushed as his hands sneak beneath her top. “It’s an F1 seat, an F1 seat that you will do amazing in. I mean, Max. There’s never been an F1 driver younger than eighteen before.” She smoothes the slight furrow between his brows with her thumb before kissing that spot. “You are going to do amazing and achieve so much.” She pecks his lips. “I’m proud of you.” His cheeks are pink at her words, her flutters a little at him blushing because of her, like she hasn’t seen it thousands of times before.

Brushing her fingers over the apples of his cheeks, she frowns. “Maxy.” “Hmm?” Her fingertips trail down to his jaw. “Let me get you a skin care routine? Please.” She adds, sticking her lip out a little. “Flower.” He sighs, his left hand moving to span across the small of her back, pressing her closer. “Please? You know I don’t care about the acne, but you’ll be the youngest on the grid, still in the thick of it. This will help. It won’t be anything complicated, either.” He sighs, a small smile on his face. “Okay. But promise me nothing complicated. You won’t be there to remind me how to do it.” “Nothing complicated.” She promises, beaming. “I’ll even write up a little instruction thing for you and you can call me every time you're doing it, so we can do it together if you like.” “Yeah? Even when I’m like eight hours behind or ahead and you're sleeping.” “Even then.”

“Oh.” She presses up on her toes in excitement and Max’s smile widens seeing it. “I got us new sheets.” “New ones?” She nods. “Can I see them?” Voice going a little low and he’s thankful that his voice doesn’t crack. She never laughed when it did, but it was still embarrassing. Her teeth find purchase in her bottom lip for a second, before she nods. “You can see my new underwear too.” A giggle leaves her at the way he groans, hands pressing her body closer and against his bulge.

2016

Max stares at the ceiling as his dad talks to someone on the phone. This is what they wanted. They wanted him here in the Red Bull seat. Getting here this early was amazing, proving how good he was in an F1 car. And escaping the nightmare that was Carlos and his father was also a plus, even if both of them had taken to glaring at Max every time they saw him.

Max was pretty sure they were betting on him crashing out this race, costing Red Bull money, and then he’d get booted back down and Carlos would get called up. He shook his head at the thought. That wouldn’t happen. He was good, he’d prove he should be in this seat, should be here this early. Because he did. Max was talented no matter what the other drivers said, or the journalists or the legends who told him he had no business in their sport. His jaw clenches, holding back a scoff. Their sport.

It makes him more grateful to his dad and mom. They had told him, prepared him for not being liked. He was aggressive on track, abrasive off to people he didn’t know well. They knew it would make things harder and they had made sure he knew that too. He’s grateful for his wife as well and he wishes she was here now with him for his first F1 race in the big leagues.

He had wanted her there for his first race at Toro Russo, but that hadn’t been an option. But now? Now that he got promoted up, maybe, he looks at his dad considering asking him before shaking his head. His dad would never go for it. Not because she’d be too much of a distraction but because they didn’t need to deal with more media attention, Max was more than sure of that. He nearly shudders thinking of when he had arrived at the track yesterday and today.

“Max.” He sits up, spine straight. “Is everything okay?” His dad smiles and Max’s shoulders loosen. “Yes. I have to go and meet a friend quickly. You will stay by Christian or Helmut if you leave the garage, understood?” “Yes sir.” “Good.” He nods. “Look over the data. We don’t need you crashing out in free practice of all things.”

He dives into the data as soon as his dad leaves. A thread of curiosity is in the back of Max’s mind as he looks it over. Talking to all the mechanics and engineers, getting a feel for them, just like he knows they are getting a feel for him.

When Helmut calls him over he wonders if by friend his dad really meant a friend of Helmut's. His dad didn’t have many friends after all.

“How are you feeling?” “Good.” Max nods. “I haven’t gotten into the car yet though.” The older man nods, frowning like he nearly always is on race weekends. “You’ll do fine.” “I will do my best.” Helmut nods and Max takes the silent dismissal.

Standing towards the back of the garage, he looks at the track data displayed on one of the bigger screens. Seeing it displayed so large and clearly makes him breathe a little easier as he looks at it all. He doesn’t get to look at it long, however. The sound of his dad asking where he is breaking him away from the data and he steps out from where he had been tucked away.

His mouth opens, ready to greet his dad, but it clicks shut at the sight of her.

She smiles at him, but it’s just a bit wrong, too tight at the corners. It makes his chest ache, makes him want to snap and tell people to stop looking at her, makes him want to whisk her away so he can see his smile. “Hi Max.” The quiet sound of her voice makes him move, striding towards her. “Flower.” He breathes just a step away from her before he brings her into his arms and she melts into him as he hides her face away from everyone else. “What are you doing here?” He asks, lips pressing to the side of her head. “Jos got me a flight here. I couldn’t miss this race.” His eyes flicker to his dad who's standing behind her, looking at them, easily ignoring all the eyes of the Red Bull garage on them and the whispers that are starting. “Thank you.” He murmurs and his dad nods.

He pulls away just enough to look at her, his hands now framing her waist, hers resting on his chest. He feels breathless looking at her. Dressed in some pants, a shirt that he remembers his mom buying her last year for her birthday, the shoes that match his, she’s gorgeous and he can’t help but quickly kiss her. Their lips connect for just a second, but it’s long enough for her hand to land on his cheek, for him to feel the warm metal of her wedding ring and band.

“I missed you. Missed you so much.” He tells her as soon as they are in his driver's room, alone. She smiles at him, hands cupping his face, and he can’t help but lean into the touch, into her. Happy to see her smile, his smile. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?” “Nervous.” He admits. “But I’m ready. I can do this. I’m ready for this.” Her smile seems to grow. “You’ve got this.” “Will you watch from the garage for me?” “Will Jos be watching from there?” He nods. “Always does.” “Then yeah, I’ll watch from there.”

—

Daniel looks at the slip of a girl standing next to Jos, intrigued. She was young, as young as Max if not a bit younger, but more importantly she was hot. Nudging his new teammate, he tilts his head in her direction. “You never said you had a sister.” The eighteen-year-old just looks at him and Daniel hates the way it’s somewhat unsettling. He was twenty-six, there shouldn’t be any reason for it to unsettle him. But as Daniel looks back over, he supposes most eighteen-year-olds don’t have dickhead near abusive dads that are Jos Verstappen. “I don’t have a sister.” “Really? Hot cousin then?” “Not my cousin either.” And before Daniel can say anything else Max is walking away from him over to his trainer. “Alright then.” Daniel mutters to himself, eyes lingering on the girl before he goes to his own trainer.

—

“Daniel thinks you're hot.” Blood rushes to her cheeks and the shirt in her hands falls onto the floor. “What?” “Daniel, before we got into the car for FP1, he was asking me about you.” His face is burning with anger. “Thought you were my sister or my hot cousin.” Max scoffs. “Oh.” Her voice sounds lost and her arms wrap around herself. The anger softens on his face at the reaction and he wraps his arms around her from behind, exhaling when her arms loosen, hands resting on his arms, fingers stroking his skin. “You're mine.” He breathes, dipping his head to press his lips against her neck, barely resisting the urge to leave a mark. Her breathing comes out shaky and in her next breath, his pinky finger starts to dip below the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Max.”

—

Max is shell shocked. He’s celebrating, screaming, throwing himself into the arms of his team, but behind his helmet, he’s shocked. He had hoped for points, dreamed of a podium, but a win? A win? That had never been in his wildest dreams for this weekend.

He’s guided over to the weighing station and then the first spot, a member of the team talking to him. His hands don’t shake as he removes his helmet and gloves. They don’t shake as he removes his balaclava either. Not when he clasps a few drivers' hands. They shake as soon as he sees his flower.

She’s standing next to his dad, crying, nearly sobbing. He can tell from the pattern of her chest moving up and down. And he knows that he should be going over to get interviewed, but he ignores the team member trying to guide him, darting over to her. The people surrounding her, all wearing Red Bull shirts, cheer, patting him wherever they can reach, but he’s only focused on her. His hands enveloping her face as he kisses her.

She gasps into the kiss, her hands settling on his biceps before moving down to his wrists, fingers wrapping around them as she returns the kiss.

“You won, Max.” She’s breathless when they break apart. “You won.” He grins at her, enjoying the shine to her eyes, the width of her smile. “I won.” It’s breathless as well, and a laugh follows it. “I won.” “You won.” She laughs, quickly pressing another kiss to her lips before pushing him away. “Now go.” He nods, but leans in for one more kiss before leaving her to go to the post race interviews.

The questions are a blur to him and so are his answers. Except for the final one.

“Is there anyone you want to thank?” “The team of course. I mean really without them this wouldn’t have been possible, we hoped for a podium, for points, a seemed out of reach with how the Mercedes have been performing though. My dad and mom as well. And my girl.” As he continues he fails to see the reactions from people with those two words, my girl.

The person interviewing him’s eyes are wide, almost having stumbled back. Nearly everyone from Red Bull has their jaw on the floor. Daniel though already feeling pissed from Max winning and not him has more anger coursing through him. Because seriously? He had been eyeing her up since Friday and she was with Max apparently? Max of all people? He scowls as his eyes land on her, she is far too pretty to be with Max.

Sebastian at the weighing station let out a disbelieving laugh, adrenaline was a hell of a thing and he hoped for Verstappen’s sake that the girl he kissed didn’t take his words to heart of him calling her his girl. He’d cool down later and most likely get embarrassed by the slip. Perhaps even angry, he was the type, after all.

A few of the other drivers share looks, shaking their heads and murmuring to each other that it wasn’t going to end well. It was a hell of a thing to say after getting a win, your first win, but PR was going to be all over him after and they all winced at the thought of what statement he’d have to make and put out in the next few hours or days.

His former teammate scoffs, “bullshit.” he spits. It should have been him in that Red Bull seat if anyone was going to replace Kyvat. He and his father had banked on Max doing something stupid, crashing the car, finishing out of the points, so he could get the seat like he should, but Max just couldn’t do that. Had to have a one-off fluke of a race. And now he was claiming he had a girlfriend. Probably some sort of PR stunt to make him look better, more stable, like an adult and not a kid squeezing his way into where he shouldn’t be.

Kimi lets out a small chuckle, one that Sebastian hears but doesn’t question him on. Of course, the kid would let it slip that he had a girlfriend. He had been hoping that Max would have made it until the end of the season or even next season, but it was fine. Kimi would just have to make sure to not make another bet with Minttu, it was getting a little embarrassing how much he kept losing to her. At least Kimi considers, he didn’t let it slip that they were married.

“Well, she’s pretty, I’ll give him that.” Jenson comments, looking at the girl Max had kissed, the one that must be his girl. Fernando chuckles. “She is jail bait.” “And taken.” He eyes her. “I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t mentioned her at all. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone. Did you?” The Spanish driver shrugs. “We talk about racing not personal. And yes.” He adds. “I am shocked. Mainly because of that.” He nods his head in the direction of Jos, still stern faced, though Fernando had caught a smile on his face earlier. Jenson lets out a sharp whistle. “Yeah, that is the surprising part. Wonder what Max had to do to get his dad to agree to that.” He shudders, “I don’t want to know.” “Yeah, best not to think about it.”

Max lets the podium celebrations wash over him, laughing when Kimi claps him on the shoulder as they leave, murmuring his congrats. Walking back towards the cool down room, out of sight from fans and cameras, Max takes a deep breath, heart still racing inside his chest. This was unbelievable.

He follows the FIA official as they direct them through another room, this one filled with some team personnel and such and his grin widens, feet picking up their pace as he scoops her into a hug, ignoring her squeal of protest.

“Max! You’re dripping in champagne.” He holds her tight to him, face buried in her neck. “Good. Means you can shower with me.” She doesn’t say anything to that, but he knows that he’s flustered her with his whispered words. It makes him chuckle and he puts her on her feet, keeping her close, though. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

He makes them keep standing there, his face still in her neck, at least a dozen eyes on them, but he needs this. Needs to hold her, needs to breathe her in, needs to feel her against him, needs her to calm him down. He wants to stay there forever, but before anyone can interrupt them, he pulls away. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets her go.

“Go wait in my driver's room, while I finish up.” She nods, flashing him a small smile, before walking over to his trainer, who nods at him before guiding her out of the building and he knows to the Red Bull garage.

—

“Max, during your post race interview, you thanked quite a few people including and to quote you, my girl. Was that the girl you kissed today?” Max is happy he’s already flushed from winning that they can’t see the way more blood rushes to his cheeks at the question. Red Bull had told him to expect at least one question that was personal during the conference because of the kiss, but he hadn’t been thinking it’d be so early. “I think we have to remember,” Max’s eyebrows furrow at Sebastian speaking and he glances at the older driver. “That adrenaline is a hell of a thing. And we can’t hold something the kid says in the rush of a moment or does really against him.” Sebastian finishes before giving Max a wink, making his brows furrow more.

Was Sebastian trying to say that he didn’t mean to thank her, didn’t mean to kiss her? He can hear a few reporters mumbling, the scratch of pens against paper.

“To answer your question,” Max starts. “Yes, the girl I kissed was the one I thanked, that I called my girl. We’ve been together a while, she’s seen my whole career in karting now single-seater. She deserved thanks.” Kimi lets out a small chuckle, leaning forward a bit to look around Max and see the puzzled expression on Sebastian's face. Served the German right for thinking that Max misspoke and acted while high on his win.

—

“No girlfriend?” Daniel asks Max as they head into debrief. “What?” “No girlfriend?” Daniel repeats himself. “I haven’t seen her yet. She not here?” Max sends him an odd look, “If you mean Y/N, no. She isn’t.” He scoffs. “Of course, I mean, Y/N. Unless you’ve got more than one girlfriend. And if that’s the case, I call dibs on Y/N.” The younger stops in his tracks, grabbing a fistful of Daniel’s shirt and yanking, making him stop as well.

“What?” Daniel laughs. “She’s hot, pretty, whatever you want to call it.” His laughter dies when he catches sight of Max’s face.

It was the face that everyone loved to talk about. The first thing that had been brought up when it was announced that Max had gotten an F1 seat. It wasn’t his age, though that was a close second. It was the look he’d get if something didn’t go his way on track, if someone smashed into him, made a risky move. It was the face that had to have been born from all the near fucking abusive shit that Jos was rumored to have done to Max.

It was narrowed eyes, glare sitting heavy and Daniel could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck at the sight of it. Nostrils flared, lips in a thin line, but somehow Daniel just knew that as soon as Max spoke his mouth would look like it was gathered into a snarl.

Seeing it and seeing it directed at him, reminds Daniel how all of them had joked in 2014 about how Max was going to be so scary, just scare them shitless. It had been jokes because despite the rumors they had heard, the stories they had been told, none of them really believed it. It wasn’t because Max couldn’t have been some hotshot on the track with an aggressive style, refusing to back down and winning because of it. No, it was the fact that people thought anyone of them would be scared of it, would be wary of him, that made them all laugh. And then they’d seen him in an F1 car and suddenly all those rumors and stories came rushing back to them, because fuck they have might merit in them when it came to Formula 1 after all.

Daniel has the urge to reach for his phone and call Jules’ godson, Charles, and ask how the fuck he managed to race against Max for so long and never get terrified of him, on or off track. But before his fingers can even twitch to reach for it, Max is speaking and god, he does look like he’s snarling.

“Daniel, if you mention how my wife,” The Australian driver's eyes widen and the word fuck starts bouncing around his head. “Looks hot one more time, I will crash into you, and I will take the fine, the penalty points, the promotion down, or the loss of my seat.” “Okay.” Daniel clears his throat, the word coming out high-pitched. “Got it. I’ll stop talking.” Max releases his shirt, fingers flexing, jaw shifting before the murderous look he had disappeared. “Good. Now let’s go, we are probably late for debrief.” Daniel nods, silently following his teammate while the words what the fuck echo in his mind.

—

“So, Max is married.” Daniel says, as he sits with a bunch of drivers, downing a shot. “Yeah, Y/N, not his fucking girlfriend.” “Daniel,” Jenson looks at the younger, eyebrow raised. “What exactly did you do?” He winces, throwing another shot back and fuck he should’ve grabbed more than two. “Called her hot in front of him, again.” The last word comes out as a whisper, but the whole table hears it and they all shake their heads. “Dude.” “I know! But like the first time I didn’t know, alright? It was Spain, before free practice, I thought she was like his little sister or cousin. This time, I shouldn’t have done it, there happy?” Kimi shakes his head. “I think the kerbs are going to your brain.” Daniel scowls at the Finnish driver, but Sebastian thankfully steps in before he can tell him where to stick it.

“What happened this time? When you called her hot? Which to be fair she is.” At Seb’s agreement, Daniel can’t help but shoot a look around, despite knowing that Max was in his hotel room and probably talking to his wife. The thought makes Daniel frown. “He, uh, he told me he’d crash into me and happily lose his seat if it came to it for crashing into me.” The other four drivers look at him, Sebastian and Fernando looking with disbelief, while Kimi looks unsurprised, same with Jenson. “Are you sure you just called her hot?” Fernando checks. He nods. “And pretty. I think it was pretty, hot, whatever you want to call it.” “I don’t even want to know the context.” Kimi murmurs. Daniel opens his mouth ready to say but gets a tap to the back of the head, making his mouth shut. “Let’s not do that tonight, alright.” It’s near instinct to fight the words, because why not tonight, but he slumps in his seat, nodding at Jenson’s words. He didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

2017

“Max, put up a hell of a fight.” Max’s eyebrows raise, “I didn’t know you knew my name.” He murmurs, the microphone still catching it, however. Lewis lets out a laugh. “It’s your second win, right? Lots of pretty girls here to celebrate with tonight.” The slight smile on his face from Daniel trying to poke at his ribs vanishes at Lewis’ words and he can hear Daniel’s sharp intake of breath, the journalists coming to life a bit. “Well, I don’t think my wife would appreciate that.” It’s deadpan, or at least he tries to make it deadpan, he didn’t actually want to make his PR officer’s life hell, but he knew there was a bit too much steel in it. “Your what?” Daniel leans forward, peering around Max. “Dude, where were you last year? It was all anyone was talking about at COTA.” “You got married at COTA?” “I got married in February 2016.” “Aren’t you like twenty?” Daniel peers even more around Max. “Once again, where have you been for the last year, two years?”

“Well,” a voice interrupts. “I think we can call this press conference to an end. Let Max celebrate his win and let Lewis come to terms with things.” “Come to terms is putting it lightly.”

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

Waiting for a scene where Buck and Eddie are discussing their dating woes at the station, and Buck jokes, “Maybe we should spare the Los Angeles population and just date each other.”

And while Eddie laughs it off, Hen swoops in to say, “No, I think you might be onto something.”

Eddie suddenly stops laughing as Buck goes, “Huh?”

“Why not just date each other?” Hen asks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Chimney laughs, “Hell, you’re already practically a couple.”

And while Buck and Eddie stammer out no we’re not and it’s not like that. Chimney crosses his arms and looks at Buck. “What was it that you said to me and Maddie about how we were already a couple? Something about how ‘you always are talking and texting, you do karaoke together, you do buff-fridays together, and you finish each other’s sentences…’”

“You remember that with a shockingly high amount of detail,” Buck says to try to turn the conversation away from him.

“And Buck and I don’t do ‘Buff-Fridays’ together…”

“We do pasta and a movie with Chris,” Buck says, finishing Eddie’s sentence.

Hen and Chimney exchange a look.

Eddie frowns and says, “Okay, we do those things, but how are we any different from the two of you?”

Chimney deadpans, “When I first met Hen, I definitely didn’t want to sleep with her.”

“Hey! Maddie promised not to tell you that!”

“And she didn’t,” Chimney says with a smirk, “but you just confirmed my suspicions.”

Hen has the audacity to cackle while Buck and Eddie both shoot her a look which only spurs her on. She’s practically wheezing when she says, “You two are also practically co-parenting Christopher.”

“Which isn’t what people do when they’re dating. Sure, they can love my kid, but they can’t parent them. Now Buck is my best friend so he… he can… give him advice and help out…” Eddie argues weakly while Buck’s heart skips a beat because Eddie just practically said yes, Buck is a parent to Chris.

Finally Bobby joins the conversation to add, “You’re right. People who are casually dating usually don’t coparent a child. But people who are married do.”

This sends Chimney and Hen cackling while they gasp, “Oh my god. You guys aren’t just dating. You’re married.”

And before Eddie or Buck can argue with them, Ravi innocently asks, “But you guys broke up for a reason, right? I know you guys work great together, but getting back with your ex is usually a bad idea.”

Everyone just stares at him as Eddie defensively asks, “Since when did we ever date?”

And Ravi’s jaw drops as he answers, “I mean. When I joined the one-eighteen everyone said it was better to stay out of the whole Buck and Eddie thing and not ask questions. And someone told me about this fight in the middle of a grocery store which I thought meant a breakup but… oh god.”

Of course, Buck and Eddie can’t get a single word in as Hen, Chimney, and even Bobby start laughing as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. The only thing that gets them to stop is when the bell rings, but even on the ride over, everyone - except Buck and Eddie - seem to have the giggles.

After the call, which is just a minor fender bender, everyone thankfully takes the advice given to Ravi and gives Buck and Eddie some space. But for the rest of the shift, the two just kind of stew in silence with their own thoughts.

At the end of the shift, everyone fleas from the locker area so Buck and Eddie are left alone. And after a few moments of torturous silence, Buck finally asks, “Why aren’t we dating?”

“Buck.”

“I mean they’re right. We’ve practically been dating this whole time - married even - just without the… physical stuff.”

Eddie just shrugs. “Physical stuff has ruined every relationship I’ve ever had.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“But it has.” Eddie emphasizes his point by harshly shutting his locker and turning to Buck. “Why should I risk what you have with Chris - what you have with me - just for sex?”

“Because maybe it’s worth the risk. And maybe it wouldn’t be just sex. Eddie, you already have me. More than anyone else ever has. So why not date?”

“Buck…” Eddie trails off, endless emotions in that name.

Buck pushes on, stepping closer to him, “Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t try. And if you can’t give me a valid reason, then let me take you on a date.” Buck smiles softly. “I mean, we were already planning on getting breakfast in the morning. But this time I could pick you up and maybe hold your hand at the tabl-”

“Evan,” Eddie finally says which makes Buck’s heart drop. “Just… give me some time to think about it, okay?”

And Buck nods and holds his hands up while backing away. “Got it. Sorry for pushing. We can pretend it was a joke.” He tries not to look the way he feels - absolutely heartbroken.

Eddie just gives him a weak smile and grabs his things before heading toward the door only to stop in his tracks and walk to Buck. “Hey.”

Buck glances up at him, searching his expression for something.

Eddie grabs his shoulder, thumb resting above his collarbone. “We’re still good for breakfast tomorrow?”

Buck smiles and nods. “Yeah. Always.”

“Good,” Eddie states, lingering in the moment before his thumb moves slightly, caressing Buck’s collarbone for a moment before he steps away and leaves without another word.

Buck watches as he goes, placing his hand over where Eddie’s was. He can’t help but wonder if Eddie was testing the waters with that swipe of his thumb or trying to soothe Buck in his own way.

It’s only a few hours later when Buck can’t sleep that his phone lights up with a message from Eddie.

Let’s make it a date.

[sinsirellaxx]

Okay but how about our toxic Slytherin boys who only have a soft spot for the reader🥺

Slytherin Boys – They only have a soft spot for you

Warning: Honestly ... no warnings!

A/N: Thank you for the request! Enjoy!

Not proofread.

Mattheo …

… whose frown disappeared as soon as he heard your voice or spotted you in the crowd. Who immediately hides his injured fist behind his back in fear of worrying you – he didn’t want to taint you with his darkness. Mattheo who deleted and blocked every single girl’s number after falling for you. Mattheo who stopped skipping classes, just to always be with you and see you several times throughout the day. The young riddle brother who’d rather wear cozy pajamas, with a face mask on his face to watch a movie with you together in his bed instead of getting wasted at a party.

Mattheo who constantly has to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from hurting anyone who’s too close to you.

Mattheo who is actually afraid to scare you away with his true self – so afraid, that he constantly has to put up a mask.

Mattheo who’d burn the whole world down just to be with you.

“I love you more than you know, love. From now on, everything I do is for you. You’re mine and I’ll always be yours.”

Theodore …

… who is known to be a womanizer is suddenly ashamed of his past promiscuous lifestyle.  Theodore who only has eyes for you, ever since you ran into him and ended up pulling him to the floor with you. He had been annoyed at first but the moment your eyes connected his head went completely silent. For the first time in a long while. He saw peace and warmth in your eyes – his peace, that he would run after from that day on.

Theodore who spent most of his time with you after having finally won you over. The only thing that mattered to him were you and if your relationship was getting serious and you loved him just as earnestly as he loved you, he’d even quit smoking.

“There is no one that I want more than you. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Ti amo.”

Lorenzo …

… was surprisingly thoughtful and selfless when with you. Lorenzo had gained himself the title of being the prince of Slytherin, with his charming looks and boyish smile but every girl who had been in an intimate relationship knew how selfish and arrogant Berkshire really was. He is the my-pleasure-only kind of guy, who’d be gone in the morning. Or the guy who leaves girls on read and just sheepishly smiles at them when confronted about it. But with you, Lorenzo can’t help but light up like a small child on Christmas eve whenever you hold his hand let alone are close to him. He’d impatiently wait for your replies and snatch his phone from wherever it was whenever it vibrated in the hopes of it being a message from you. He’d trail after you like a lost puppy, taking advantage of the positive image that he had built for himself and would look at you sadly with his big brown eyes, whenever someone or even you brought up his reputation with the girls.

“Please don’t listen to those rumors … I truly love you so much. So much, it actually hurts me.” Lorenzo brokenly whispers while clutching his chest.

Draco …

… would pamper you with his money – because that is the only love language he knows. He didn’t grow up in a loving, warm household but his parents gave him everything he wanted to compensate for their lack off emotional support. Draco never knew he wanted – no, needed intimacy until he met you. At first, he had been appalled by his feelings for you. You were nothing like the ideal woman his parents expected him to marry one day, but he was lost in your eyes the second you smiled at him – trapped in the warmth that radiated in your orbs. The man completely changed – well, only when it was about you. In the beginning of your relationship, you had to teach him about the other love languages – you had to reassure him, that he didn’t need to spend money on you to express his love. You told him he could touch you, kiss you, hug you and tell you, whenever he wanted or needed something from you. After that, Draco didn’t go a day without hugging you close to his body at least once. He’d kiss you good morning and goodbye, every. Single. Day.

He'd never forget to tell you how much he loved you and how beautiful you were.

“I love you more than I thought I was capable of. My heart is so full. Thank you for being mine.”

Blaise …

… would be – what is nowadays considered as – a simp. He’d go soft for you and only for you. Whatever you want – whatever you need, he’ll get it for you. You want him to straighten or curl your hair? No need to ask twice. You want to apply make-up on his face just for shits and giggles? Anything for his princess – but please don’t take any pictures of him.

Someone looks at you the wrong way and makes you feel uncomfortable? They might go blind soon if they don’t look away asap. Blaise is so infatuated with you, that you wouldn’t even have to ask or mention the idea of a promise ring or matching necklaces – he’d be two steps ahead of you.

“I know it sounds cheesy – but you are the moon of my life. I’d do anything to see that beautiful smile of yours.”

Tom …

… still struggles with showing affection and worries, that it might drive you away. He tries – he really tries hard. Tom Riddle is known for his intelligence, but he soon has to come to terms with the fact that his intelligence won’t help him with romance. He had a lot to learn. When he first started noticing his feelings towards you, he was in complete denial. He outright refused to accept them. He had no time for love. But when another male from his year started flirting with you his resolve to ignore his feelings disappeared into thin air. He couldn’t ignore his feelings any longer – or else he’d have to get rid of many male students and that would not be optimal for his time at Hogwarts. He’d slowly start getting closer to you: Approaching you in the library to help you reach a book from the top shelf, helping you carry your books when one of them fell from your arms. He even had to practically force Snape to assign him as your Potions tutor. You had been intimidated at first, but he slowly grew on you. Tom was very attentive and took mental notes on everything you told him.

Out of respect for you, Tom didn’t want to make use of his legilimency, but he couldn’t help himself. He is still a toxic boy after all.

“I promise to always love you, my love. There is nothing that can stand between us – you are mine forever.”

_

A/N: Feedback and comments are greatly appreciated! ❤️

If you want to support me and my work: https://ko-fi.com/sinsirella

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #14

"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.

"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.

Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.

Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.

"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".

"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.

"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.

"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."

"No, I suppose you didn't."

"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"

Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."

"What do you—"

"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"

"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."

Jack's face falls.

"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."

"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"

"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"

"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.

"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.

"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."

Danny glances at Vlad.

"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.

--

The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.

"You should've told me," Danny growls.

"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"

Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.

"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."

Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.

"Which is?" Danny asks.

"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."

"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."

"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."

"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"

"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."

"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.

"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"

"Jesus, Vlad,"

"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."

"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"

Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."

With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.

"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.

Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.

"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."

Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.

"He won't."

"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."

"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.

"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"

"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."

"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"

--

"You're going to leave my family alone."

"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.

"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."

"Danny...why don't you come inside?"

Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."

Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.

"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."

"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."

"Danny..."

"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."

"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.

"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."

"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.

"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"

"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."

Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.

"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"

"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."

"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"

"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.

"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"

"Danny. I..."

"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."

"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."

"Overstepping already."

"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."

"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.

Ring!

Ring!

"Hello?"

"It's done."

"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."

[7s3ven]

ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER, pt 1. neteyam x fem! metkayina! r

IN WHICH… Y/N and Neteyam’s walls suddenly come crashing down one night after a heart to heart conversation.

( requested )

Notes: mentions of sex (not written out, though), throwing up (morning/pregnancy sickness), small panic attack, a little angst, fluff ending, neteyam + reader are like 19 ig, teen pregnancy?

—

Neteyam was thankful for the Metkayina allowing his family into their home but he missed his own. He missed the trees and the forest and his friends. The forest was all he had known. He was supposed to be the next clan leader, it was a job he had been preparing for since his birth. But it was all ripped away from him when he and his family were forced to leave. Now, he had nothing. No status, no promises of greatness, and almost no friends. Lo’ak didn’t count because he had to see his idiotic brother every day.

The night was quiet and cool as Neteyam slowly stepped over Lo’ak, who was sound asleep on the floor of the hut. Neteyam rolled his eyes at his brother, who was always sleeping in odd places.

He had been sneaking out regularly, trying to get away from his crushing responsibilities. Neteyam always sat in the same spot on the beach yet when he arrived, he found it was already taken. He recognised the Metkayina girl as Y/N, Tsireya and Aonung’s older sister and the future Tsahik. Kiri was better friends with her than Neteyam was. Nevertheless, he slowly walked up behind her.

“Out here all alone?” He questioned, crouching down. Their shoulders brushed as Y/N turned her head to glance at him. Her narrowed eyes softened at the sight of him.

“Oh, it is only you.” She murmured.

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

Neteyam heard Y/N quietly laugh. “A little. What are you doing out so late?” She tilted her head, looking up at Neteyam. He sat down, shrugging.

“No reason.” He replied, “I just needed some peace and quiet.”

Y/N nodded in understanding. “I am doing the same. As mean as it might sound, I had to get away from my family for a little bit. Aonung’s snores are always so loud too.”

A small smirk crept across Neteyam’s lips. “You should hear Lo’ak. Sometimes, he’s snores so loud that it wakes my dad up.”

“How is your family settling in, Neteyam?” Y/N inquired, leaning back to stare up at the starry sky. Neteyam held back a sigh.

“We are trying our best.” He uttered, “But it is not easy. We are used to trees… not sand and water.”

Y/N hummed. “Do you miss the forest?” She mentally scolded herself for asking such a question. Of course he did. He would not be talking about it if he did not.

“Yes. And as much as I try to enjoy all this, I will always prefer the forest.” Neteyam abruptly shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts. “But I cannot complain. We are lucky to be here.”

Y/N looked Neteyam up and down, observing his body language. Slowly, she reached out a hand, placing it on Neteyam’s. “You can complain to me.” She gently told him. “I will not judge. I will only listen.”

It seemed Neteyam had been waiting for this exact words. He launched into describing his home with a smile on his face. He told Y/N of the banshees, the mountains, and the trees that stretched across the land for endless miles. It all sounded very foreign yet fascinating to Y/N.

“My parents would not want me to complain. Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk are allowed to miss the forest but not me.” Neteyam fidgeting with his fingers, a constant reminder that he would never be viewed as true Na’vi.

“Do they expect you to be perfect?” Y/N spoke up, her voice a soft whisper over the sound of the waves crashing against the sandy shore. Silently, Neteyam nodded.

“I am the golden child. I should not be saying such nonsense… but I miss my old life. Here, I get in trouble for every little thing Lo’ak does. I know as the oldest sibling, it is my job to look out for them, but it is growing tiresome.” Neteyam looked at Y/N, who was listening intensively, “Do you ever feel that way… about your siblings?”

“Yes. Aonung is always getting into mischief and I am given the job of picking up his slack. I am the future Tsahik yet with all the scolding I receive from my parents because of Aonung, it makes me feel like a failure.” Y/N aimlessly picked at the small shells nestled in the grains of sand as she spoke. “I love Tsireya and Aonung… but I cannot always be there to protect them. And that scares me.”

Neteyam nodded. He was closer now, barely an inch away from Y/N. She would have pushed him away if he was any other boy. But it was Neteyam, sweet Neteyam who was trying his best to gain his father’s approval and protect his family. She made no move to shove him.

“I feel that something terrible is approaching… and I am scared that I can no longer shield my siblings.” Y/N kept speaking as Neteyam drew soft circles in the palm of her hand to comfort her.

“I understand.” He muttered, locking gazes with Y/N. They held eye contact and for the first time in years, Y/N felt truly seen.

The feeling of finally being understood without judgement clouded Y/N’s mind as her back hit the soft sand and she returned Neteyam’s kiss.

The days after their sudden incident were a jumbled blur. Y/N had been feeling moody as of lately and it all made sense when she threw up the food she had eaten just minutes ago. Y/N shook as she wrapped her arms around herself in disbelief.

She was frozen in fear, barely able to register that Tsireya was calling out her name. “Y/N! I’ve been looking for you. Would you like to swim with Aonung and I and the Sully kids?” Tsireya brightly beamed, having no idea of the panic plaguing Y/N’s thoughts.

“I am alright, Tsireya. Thank you for offering. I do not feel good.” Y/N willed Tsireya to disappear so that she could figure out her situation.

“Oh… of course. I will tell Neteyam you cannot make it. I hope you feel better soon, sister.”

The mention of Neteyam’s name almost made Y/N spin around and throw up again. It was partly his fault she had gotten into this mess. Why did he have to be so kind and understanding?

Y/N quietly groaned in frustration as Tsireya walked away. She lay on her back, staring up at the brightly lit sky. Her thoughts weren’t giving her a break to think clearly. Obviously, she could not confide in her parents. She would not be surprised if they threatened to throw her out. Tsireya could not keep a secret for long and Aonung… well, Y/N would never willingly tell him. He would use every chance he got to remind her.

And Y/N dreaded telling Neteyam. He was already having a hard time fitting in, he did not need the trouble of this either. If word of this spread, his family would be outcasted even more than they were already.

She aimlessly wandered the beach, thinking to herself. The pressure of gaining her parents’ approval was becoming all too much.

As expected, Neteyam and Y/N avoided each other. Neteyam thought it was best to leave her alone and give her space to think, which was something he desperately needed as well.

Y/N was feeding her ilu when Tsireya and Aonung approached her. “Sister.” The latter uttered, folding his arms over his chest, “We need to talk.”

Y/N merely sent him a confused glance. “About what?” She questioned.

“Why are you avoiding us?” Tsireya got straight to the point. She huffed. “You never want to swim with us… and you are hardly around. You do not even eat with us. Why?”

Y/N looked away, petting her ilu. “I am busy.” She lied through her teeth. “Mother is encouraging me to oversee the affairs of the village and it is more tiresome than I expected.”

Tsireya faltered, suddenly feeling bad for accusing her older sister. Aonung, on the other hand, was not so easily fooled. He had always been annoyingly good at reading people. But neither of Y/N’s siblings asked any more questions. They simply accepted her answer and left her to tend to her ilu.

A few quiet minutes passed before the wood beneath Y/N creaked. She looked over her shoulder, almost jumping at the sight of Neteyam.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “Just came to check up on my ilu. She’s been more hungry lately.” He sent her a sheepish smile, hurrying over to the creature. Y/N tried not to pay him any attention as she kicked her legs in the water, the cool droplets splashing against her body.

“So… how are you?” Neteyam spoke up. There was an awkward pause. It took Y/N a moment to register his words.

“I am good.” She responded. Neteyam took her short answer as an attempt to ice him out, which he did not blame her for. In reality, though, Y/N was trying to stop herself from exposing her secret. She knew if she kept talking to Neteyam, then his sweet voice would coerce her into revealing everything.

“Right… I’ll see you later, I guess.” Neteyam walked off, rubbing the back of his neck. Y/N tried not to show her hurt at how quickly he left, seeming like he wanted nothing to do with her.

Her ilu nudged its head against Y/N’s thigh, cooing. Y/N sighed as she pet it once more. “What am I going to do?” She murmured. Time was running out and she still had no idea what she was going to do.

She clasped her hands over her belly, sighing as she lowered her head. She rarely ate with her family now, doing everything she could to avoid them. Her siblings and even her parents were bound to become more suspicious; Tsireya was already questioning it and Aonung did not believe any of her lies.

Y/N was a strong girl, both physically and mentally, but she could not handle this. Having to keep such a large secret from her parents and her siblings, whom were her world, and Neteyam was eating at her.

Her attempts to distance the eldest Sully boy from her were becoming harder but the secret could not be revealed. She knew Neteyam would ultimately talk. It was up to her to ensure his family would not be isolated any further.

Y/N’s heartbeat spiked and despite her underwater training, she could not slow it. She placed a hand over her chest, gasping for air. “Shit.” She murmured out a word she had heard Neteyam say, which only sent her further into a spiral.

It was becoming increasingly harder to clear her mind and she suddenly felt uncomfortable in her own skin. Her thoughts exploded into a flurry of negativity.

Her father would be so disappointed in her careless behaviour. And her mother… Y/N almost threw up at the mere thought of Ronal’s look. She would be livid that her perfect daughter, her daughter who consistently kept Aonung out of trouble, her daughter who was the future Tsahik, had engaged in such acts with a forest boy.

She clawed at her skin, trying to rid herself of such thoughts that caused more harm than good. Y/N leaned forward to comfort herself but she ended up diving right into the water purely by mistake. She thought of just staying under the glistening water. It brought her comfort. There was no one talking to her while she was on the verge of a breakdown. It was peaceful.

A hand suddenly grabbed onto her forearm, heaving her up. Y/N spat out a mouthful of water, coughing in surprise. “Aonung!” She exclaimed, slapping her brother’s shoulder. Though, it probably did not hurt him as much as she wanted it to. Aonung was a few months younger than Y/N but had much more muscles.

“Why are you lying in the water?” Aonung questioned as he pulled her back onto the dock. “It is not like you to be so distant. What is the matter?”

To others, particularly the Sully boys, Aonung was mean and a bully and an outright nuisance to be around. But to Y/N, he was sweet. He was Y/N’s sweet little brother who used to come crying to her when he scraped his knee.

“It is none of your concern. I am fine. I am simply stressed.” Y/N reassured him. Unfortunately, her soft words did not have the impact they had on Tsireya.

Aonung narrowed his eyes like he always did when he could tell Y/N was lying. “You are not telling the truth. You can tell me. I will not tell mother or father or even Tsireya. It will be our little secret.”

Y/N stared at her brother then at her shaking hands which had not stopped trembling since she found out she was pregnant. “I am with a child.” She suddenly blurted out.”

Aonung was silent. He opened his mouth to say something but the pair heard a gasp behind them. Y/N quickly looked behind her, partly relieved that it was only Tsireya. She had been holding a bowl of fruits, which were now rolling around in the floor.

“I am sorry.” She immediately apologised, covering her mouth with her hands. “I did not mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to bring you some fruit so you would feel better.” She quickly crouched down to pick everything up. “Is it true… are you really?”

Tsireya sat on the other side of Y/N. Aonung swiftly reached over, grasping a piece of fruit despite Y/N’s look. She had always told him not to eat anything from the floor.

“Yes.” She hesitated.

“Damn, who knocked you up?” Aonung carelessly asked. Tsireya clicked his tongue, her long tail slapping him.

“Do not, Aonung.” She warned. “We will not tell anyone, Y/N. Do not pressure yourself into telling us the dad. We will let you take your time.”

“It’s Neteyam.” Y/N blurted out. She could not contain it anymore. Beside her, she heard Aonung choke. Y/N promptly slapped his back.

“Neteyam?!” Aonung exclaimed but Tsireya and Y/N both hushed him. “Mother and Father will not be happy.”

Y/N sent him a glare, “I am aware.” She muttered.

“Wait, this is good. This will top anything else I do. Father will be like, ‘Aonung, why did you slap Lo’ak?’ And then I’ll just reply with ‘well, remember when Y/N got pregnant?’” Aonung faced his sisters only to be met with their unimpressed faces.

“Aonung, take this seriously.” Tsireya hissed, resting her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “Whatever you do, Y/N, we will be here to support you.”

Neteyam was not doing any better. The last few days had felt like a constant test on his patience. His father was always ordering him around and Lo’ak was getting on his nerve.

The last straw was when Jake had decided to scold Neteyam for Lo’ak’s actions. Neteyam had returned from the docks, still wondering as to why Y/N was suddenly acting so cold. He tried to forget that night, to move past it, but it was easier said than done. Y/N seemed to be everywhere Neteyam was.

The oldest Sully boy walked into their hut, exhausted and fully prepared to collapse. However, when he saw Jake standing in front of Lo’ak, his father’s arms crossed sternly over his chest, Neteyam almost groaned. Neytiri and Kiri were inside as well, exchanging worried glances. Tuk was nowhere to be seen, most likely playing with her newfound friends.

“Neteyam.” Jake said. Neteyam dragged himself to stand beside Lo’ak, his back straightening.

“Yes, sir?” Neteyam murmured, wanting to get this over and done with so he could tend to his own thoughts.

“Your brother got into another fight today.” Jake uttered. “Where were you? You’re supposed to keep an eye on him.”

“I was busy, sir.”

“Why weren’t you with your brother? Sully’s have to stick together.“

Neteyam, who had been trying to hold down his bubbling anger, suddenly snapped. “I wasn’t with my brother because it’s not my job to keep him in check.” It was the first time Neteyam had ever talked back. His ears flattened down, an action he didn’t usually do but had started doing because of Y/N. “What Lo’ak does with his spare time should be none of my concern. It is not my fault he fights every day.”

“Yeah, but you’re the older brother. It’s your responsibility to look out for him.” Jake poked Neteyam’s chest, causing everything to come crashing down. Neteyam, who had been trying so hard to hide his fury at how unfairly he was being treated, broke.

“It is none of my responsibility! I can’t be everywhere with Lo’ak, babysitting him! You forced me away from my home, from the forest in which I grow up in. I know nothing here! I am simply too busy trying to fit in to watch over Lo’ak! He is not the only one who needs comfort. I am still a teenager! Have you ever asked how I feel?!” Neteyam didn’t waste a heartbeat in spinning around, storming off. His swishing tail hit a bowl, causing it to fall. It did not break but Neteyam wouldn’t have cared anyway.

Neteyam left his parents and his siblings in shock at his outburst. He always took the blame for Lo’ak, what had changed?

Kiri quickly followed after Neteyam. Lo’ak, with a small nod from Jake, followed.

“Ma Jake,” Neytiri reached out for her mate, “What is wrong with Neteyam? He has been acting strange lately.” Jake held her hand, staring at the spot where Neteyam had been standing moments ago.

Jake wasn’t stupid. He saw how Neteyam’s gaze always found its way to stare at the Chief’s oldest daughter. He had been 16 once upon a time; it did not take long for Jake to form a suspicion.

“Neteyam!” Kiri grabbed her brother’s wrist, forcing him to turn around. “What is the matter with you? You have been acting so moody lately.” She pouted.

“Nothing!” Neteyam harshly insisted. “I am not acting moody.” Lo’ak caught up with his older brother but remained silent, knowing Neteyam’s anger was a result of his recklessness.

“My idiot brother, why must you be so stubborn?” Kiri groaned, “You are like Y/N sometimes, so hardheaded and annoyingly independent.”

Her name set Neteyam’s face alight. A dark blush spread across his cheeks. “She is the problem.” He finally admitted. “Y/N is.”

“Did she reject you or something?” Lo’ak voiced, arching an eyebrow.

Neteyam wished she did. This situation would have been much easier. “No… Y/N and I, we…” Neteyam trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

Kiri got the hint. She slapped his shoulder. “You did not!” She hissed. “She is the Chief’s daughter!” Lo’ak stood beside Kiri, ever so clueless.

“What? What did they do? He didn’t even finish his sentence. You guys are acting like they”- Lo’ak paused, “Oh. I get it now.”

“It was an impulsive decision.” Neteyam uttered as he resumed walking.

“One that will get you killed.” Kiri added. “You are lucky she is not betrothed yet. Have you talked to her?”

“Briefly. She does not wish to speak to me.” Neteyam was met with another slap from Kiri.

“Idiot! She must be lonely. You must speak to her so that you can resolve this!”

Neteyam groaned, walking faster in hopes his siblings would leave him alone. “She avoids me.” He said to Kiri. “I told you, she doesn’t want to see me.”

“Then try harder to talk to her! Y/N is as stubborn as you. Do you not see the pattern?!” Kiri yanked Neteyam back, “You must tell Father and Mother.”

Neteyam scoffed. “I have caused enough trouble already. I will do no such thing.”

“You are foolish. If Tonowari and Ronal find out, Father will be able to calm them. If you do not tell, then at least speak to Y/N.”

Neteyam exasperatedly sighed. “Fine. I will talk to her. Happy?” He wandered off, leaving Kiri and Lo’ak behind. He knew where to find Y/N. During her spare time, she was always at the docks, playing with her ilu or swimming.

“Do you not ever move from this spot?” Neteyam spoke as he halted behind Y/N, who was sitting where he suspected. He saw her back tense up.

“No. I have moved. To eat. I came back.” Y/N was careful with her responses. One stumble and she’d end up spilling everything.

“Kiri says I should talk to you.” Neteyam muttered as he sat beside her, dipping his feet into the water. Y/N turned to face him, staring with wide eyes.

“You told Kiri?”

“And Lo’ak.” Neteyam’s reply did not ease her panic. “But I suspect you told Tsireya and Aonung.”

Y/N nodded. “I cannot hide anything from them for long.” In truth, Y/N had returned to the docks to mentally prepare herself for telling her mother. She could hide the sudden pregnancy but her body could not. It would start to show.

“How are you feeling?” Neteyam questioned.

“Stupid.”

Neteyam lowly chuckled, staring down at his hands. “Kiri is advising me to tell Mother and Father. But I do not want to do it without your permission.” Y/N almost melted at how sweet and considerate Neteyam was.

“I do not mind.” She muttered, “As long as they do not spread the word.” It was not Neteyam who would get the harsher punishment anyway. As the daughter of the clan leaders, Y/N had a standard to uphold. She had failed after managing to balance it for so long.

After a much needed talk, Neteyam and Y/N parted ways. The latter slowly walked into the medical hut where she found her mother grinding leaves. “Mother.” Y/N said, hands clasped in front of her. Ronal hummed, too busy with her task at hand. “I have something rather important to tell you.”

“What is it, child? Could it not wait until after dinner?”

“I am pregnant.” Y/N quickly said, half heartedly hoping she had spoken too fast for her mother to understand her. Ronal paused. The leaves she had been holding previously fluttered the floor.

“You are pregnant… by who?” Ronal was trying to keep calm.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, her head lowered. “Neteyam.” She whispered.

Ronal hissed in anger. “You allowed this?! When he is not your mate?!”

“I did not mean to, mother.” Y/N insisted, stepping forward.

Ronal thought for a second. “We must find you a mate.” She announced after what felt like an hour.

“But what about Neteyam?” Y/N frowned, “He is the father! Does he not deserve to know?”

“He is not Metkayina.” Ronal almost sneered, “If word of this gets out, it will create a scandal. Your father and I will find you a suitable mate.” Her mother turned to walk away but Y/N desperately grabbed onto her arm.

“No… please… mother, do not make me do this! I want him to be the father! I do not want any other idiotic boy!”

Ronal softly caressed Y/N’s face as small tears dripped down her cheeks. She finally allowed herself to cry after holding everything in. “I am sorry, my child, but it is for the best.”

Y/N abruptly straightened her back. “No.” She firmly refused, surprising Ronal. “I have been the perfect daughter for you and Father. Do I not receive a reward in return?”

“You have a baby without a mate. I could hardly call that a reward.”

“Why will you not allow me to decide? You say it is for the best but do you really want to live the rest of your life knowing I am miserable? Will you put me through that just to keep your reputation? Is your reputation among the clan more important than your own daughter’s happiness?!” Y/N had not inherited Tsireya’s gentleness nor Aonung’s ego. She had inherited her mother’s temper.

“Listen to me, child, they will leave sooner or later. They will not stay here, no matter how much Neteyam will claim he loves you.”

“Then I will pay the price. Let me do this, mother. I have already suffered enough. I cannot do it again.”

Ronal narrowed her eyes. “Come.” She beckoned her daughter out of the hut. Y/N did not ask where Ronal was leading her; she simply followed behind.

Ronal’s sudden appearance in the Sully Family’s hut caused them to quiet down. Neteyam shared a look with Y/N, confused.

“It seems my daughter has found herself… involved with your eldest son.” Ronal spoke, sending Y/N a subtle glare. Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek. “This is not the Metkayina way but unfortunately, she is pregnant.”

Chaos broke out. Jake spat out a mouthful of water while Neytiri coughed to hide the fact that she had almost choked in shock. Lo’ak muffled his loud laughs as a look of horror crossed Neteyam’s face. Kiri quietly clicked her tongue, staring at her eldest brother.

“For some unknown reason, my daughter wishes for Neteyam to be the father. I will allow this if your son proves to me that he will be able to provide for Y/N. She is the future Tsahik and I will allow only the best for her. That is all.” Ronal walked away, expecting Y/N to follow.

“You knocked up the Chief’s daughter?” Jake said as soon as the two Metkayina women were gone. Lo’ak could finally freely laugh while Neteyam shoved him.

“Shut up.” He muttered, standing to run after Y/N.

[hazbinwhoree]

Guardian Angel

Part 1/3 Part 2

A/N: Starting a series where f!reader is the child of a demon and a human and Adam’s been tasked with keeping an eye on her. Please leave requests!

“It has recently come to my attention that a demon and a human have reproduced,” Sera announced. 

Adam cocked an eyebrow. “No shit. For real?”

“The spawn is already grown. So far she hasn’t caused any trouble so I do not see the need for actions further than simply keeping an eye on her.”

“Okay and what does that have to do with me?” Adam asked, taking a long sip from his drink.

“You’re going to watch her.”

Adam spit out his drink. “Sorry, what?”

“You’re going to be her guardian angel,” Sera smirked. Adam’s jaw dropped idignantly. “Do I have to?” He whined.

“Yes.”

That’s how Adam found himself on Earth, stalking some random demon/human hybrid.

Although despite his apathy, she wasn’t just some random, a demon/human hybrid was almost unheard of. She was the third documented instance of that happening.

But as far as he could tell, she led a boring, painfully bleak life. Adam almost felt bad for her. She seemed really depressed. But his job was getting boring. Her routine was always the same. Work, sleep, eat, shower. It seemed that the hybrid was completely unaware of her origin and the powers she possessed. It made Adam’s job easy. Easy and boring.

He started fucking with her, using his ability to be invisible to the human eye in order to fuck with things in her apartment to mess with her head.

One day, while her roommate was out, she stood in the middle of her room, staring at nothing. “Come out you annoying fuck!” She called out. It took Adam by surprise. “I know someone is here,” she hissed. “And you’ve been fucking with me, and it’s pissing me off, and I know you’re here right now, so show yourself!”

Adam debated for a moment. Sera had just said to watch over her, she’d never said it had to be no contact. In fact, Adam was pretty sure Sera would prefer he try to bring the hybrid to the light, but she chose the wrong angel for that task.

Tired of watching her while she was unawares, Adam let himself appear to her. He appeared behind her, just to fuck with her one more time. She turned and jumped, and Adam snickered. To his surprise, she recovered rather quickly.

“What the fuck are you?”

Adam was once again taken aback, and then offended. “I’m an angel, babes, could you not tell by the halo and wings?”

“Well you look like a demon," she replied.

Adam scoffed indignantly. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! Who are you and why have you been following me?”

“I’m Adam. Like, first man ever, Adam.”

“Wow, I’m so impressed.”

“And who the fuck are you, bitch?”

“Shouldn’t you know that since you’ve been following me?”

Adam was seething. “Yeah well I didn’t give enough of a shit to remember your name when Sera told me.”

The hybrid narrowed her eyes. Adam narrowed his. The attitude on this bitch! He hadn’t seen such life in her in the weeks he’d been watching her. He definitely didn’t enjoy seeing her come to life like this. Totally not (he did).

“Well you might as well tell me cause you’re stuck with me now that you can see me.” Adam smirked.

She huffed. “(Name). I’m (Name). Why am I stuck with you?”

“Because my job is to follow you, babe, orders from the Seraphim herself.”

“But why?”

Adam thought about fucking with her for a moment, before spitting out the truth. “Because you’re a Cambion, and Cambions are dangerous.”

(Name) blinked at him. “The fuck is a Cambion?”

“A demon/human love child.”

“What, so you’re saying one of my parents is a demon and I’m like, half a demon?”

“Basically.”

They stood in silence for a moment while (Name) processed this information.

“So,” Adam broke the silence. “What’s for dinner?”

[slttygeto]

JJK MEN AS DADS — headcanons.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥featuring: geto suguru, nanami kento and toji fushiguro.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥note: enjoy this alternate universe where everyone is okay and safe and happy.

╰┈➤ interested in sending a commission?

╰┈➤ GOJO'S VERSION

—GETO SUGURU ;

some of you might not agree with me on this but he probably never saw himself becoming a dad

sure he loves kids, they do annoy him when they’re loud and all over the place but he never thought that he would have kids

that is until you announced to him that you were pregnant, and his entire world changed

his daughter is pretty much everything to him but he doesn’t spoil her (gojo does)

he wants to teach her proper manners, the right way to communicate things and isn’t big on spoiling

and you both end up raising a sweetheart who’s in love with uncle satoru.

“baby, stay in my sights.” you heard suguru talk to your daughter as you both walked down the food aisle. she was well mannered, didn’t act up or tried to be bratty when told something (unless she was having a really bad day, which was very different).

watching your husband parent a child that looked like a mix of you both was a different kind of love. he was gentle, careful and most importantly trying to be there for her.

from taking her on daddy-daughter dates, to talking things out with her when she was mad at him or when she messed up, suguru proved himself worthy of becoming someone’s father.

“who knew someone else would come along, and you’d call them baby,” you teased the man with a small smile, letting him push the cart while you walked next to him. he shot you a playful glare before grabbing a can of tuna.

“don’t even start—i somehow got used to speaking in girl voice from being forced to attend her tea parties…” he sighs but you know it's far from a tired one. he looks at your daughter with so much love, so much adoration that your heart flutters.

you were incredibly lucky.

“tell me you love me in your girl voice, come on,”

"move."

—NANAMI KENTO;

this man was made to be a father

despite how tired he looks he always makes time for you and your girl

very lovey dovey and is very proud of referring to you two as his girls

whenever he is asked to hang out, he goes 'lemme make sure my girls dont need anything'

hes quite literally the best

most patient, loving and understanding husband/father

ever since you gave birth, kento and your daughter had a routine. you two would feed her at 8p.m when he comes back from work, he would then take her to the bathroom where he would bathe her then read her a bed time story. he would then kiss her goodnight, keep the small moon shaped light turned on before closing the door.

it was endearing because he put it on so much effort when it came to her. you knew it was the bare minimum for a father, but you were still very grateful that you married a good husband and an even better father.

both kento and your daughter were now in the bathroom. bath time usually took about twenty minutes to half an hour, and it would be filled with giggles coming from your four year old and kento's occasional chuckles. but it was oddly quiet, so you decided to go check on them.

when you opened the door, your heart melted at the sight. your daughter had fallen asleep in the bathtub, and so your husband was trying his best to get her out and dry her up before she caught a cold.

and he was doing it so quietly that you couldn't help but ask if he needed any help.

"baby, do you need help?" you whispered to the man holding the sleeping girl, lightly kissing his nape and squeezing his shoulders.

"I got this." he whispered in response, turning around and pressing a light kiss on your lips and forehead.

you watched with heart eyes as he gently woke her up to dry her hair, kissed her forehead and continued on with their routine, before it was time to say goodnight.

nanami kento was an angel sent from above.

—FUSHIGURO TOJI;

this man isn't new to parenting, in fact you knew you weren't his first wife

but you were accepting of it, helped giving the grieving man a second chance at life as he liked to say

you met megumi when he was still so young and the little boy loving you was enough reason for toji to confirm that you were indeed the right one

loving a child that wasn't yours wasn't given to everyone, toji was well aware of that

and as you watched the man parent megumi, you were a bit hesitant to announce to him your pregnancy

when you did tho, he sobbed like a baby

and twins? a boy and a girl? oh he was in for a ride

"you little rascals better let me love on my wife in peace." your husband whispered to the two sleeping babies in their cribs. it was 9p.m and they were fortunately fast asleep.

you on the other hand, were busy with your oldest.

finally after getting them in bed, you were with megumi in the kitchen asking him what you should pack for his lunch tomorrow, which the ten year old responded with what he typically always chose.

megumi wasn't a difficult child, but with the arrival of the twins, you were a bit worried that he would think you and toji no longer cared for him. dealing with twins wasn't easy, but you were aware and willingly brought two lives to his family, and were fully responsible for it.

when toji was with the twins, you would help out megumi with his homework. and when it was time to breastfeed the babies, toji would take megumi to basketball practice or engage in a random activity together.

"a juice box?" you asked while packing his lunch, which the little boy nodded at before staring at who was coming down the stairs.

"you got school tomorrow at 8?" toji asked megumi, and the little boy responded with a nod. not much of a talker.

"are they asleep?" megumi quietly asked his dad, who raised an eyebrow at him before saying 'yes' and you watched as your son fiddled with his fingers, anxious of what to say next.

"gumi, do you wanna see them?" you stepped in, a hand resting on his back. the little boy looked up at you with sparkly eyes, grateful that you understood him.

"go, and if they do wake up call me." you kissed his forehead and watched as he carefully tiptoed upstairs.

toji's eyes stayed glued on you during the entire interaction, and finally let his arms wrap around your waist once your son was upstairs before resting his forehead on your shoulder.

"thank you," he whispered out, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

"for what?" you chuckled, caressing the taller man's back.

"for making everything feel like it's worth it."

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven 3 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: no proof reading, stressed out neglect!Bruce, mentions of dead characters, jealousy and all kind of bad feelings, language

This was Hell. It had to be a nightmare, right? It couldn’t be the reality. It couldn’t be the truth. Someone was toying with him, torturing him even. It had to be an illusion of some sort. Or maybe he was stuck in the darkest part of this mind, full of his worst fears.

No child, no wife, no Alfred, no Justice League, no good day, no good night. 

Gotham wasn’t usually funny, but this was pure punishment.

At first, Bruce thought that the worst part was how awful the business was with Wayne Enterprises; there was so much work to take care of, all the time, and no one he felt like he could trust. 

Then he realised how empty his manor was. It was dark and quiet. It was making him want to throw up because of how tight it was making his chest and stomach. He couldn’t stand this utter silence. He couldn’t stand to not be able to play the annoyed mentor with his children and the good husband to you.

Not even having Alfred was a punishment, a torture, a cruel life. How was he supposed to care about everything without Alfred? How was he supposed to stay sane without the man who raised him? How was he supposed to survive without him? 

He so deeply missed the children. He tried to find them, but they were in prison, dead or gone from Gotham: Dick was a police officer who died during a mission, Jason was in prison, Tim died in his parents' accident, Stephanie had left Gotham forever, Cassandra killed herself to not be a killer anymore, Duke died as he looked for the Joker, Damian didn’t exist.

And Barbara looked so happy, Bruce didn’t even dare going to talk to her. And when he passed by her, hoping she would talk to him, she just seemed surprised to see Bruce Wayne in her local library. All the people he knew didn’t know him anymore or weren’t there to know him or to care about him.

In some desperate attempt, he looked for Talia, but the league of assassins simply kicked his ass for having tried and reached for her. They weren’t interested in him, merely wondering how he knew about them. He almost got killed that night, but he found a way out, like he always did.

Except he didn’t seem to be able to find a way out from this Hell.

The worst part was definitely your absence. He was so used to going to bed with a pretty little wife by his side. He was so used to kissing her goodnight. He was so used to her cute little whines for five minutes more of cuddles in the morning. He was so used to having his arm around her waist wherever they went. And he missed that so much. He wanted you so badly. He needed you so badly.

Fuck, he promised himself to not ditch any more dates with you once he would be back to what reality was supposed to be. He would take such good care of you. He would make you forget about the divorce papers and not just by saying to Alfred “She had a good life here and she loves the children, so she’ll stay”. No, he would make sure you actually wanted to stay. With him. With your husband.

He needed to find you in this world. Maybe you could help him, at least to not completely go insane.

He quickly found you, and for a brief instant, he was so relieved that you seemed to know him. You clearly weren’t his wife since you didn’t even live in the manor, but thank god he hoped you were his girlfriend. But your coldness hurt him more than he would ever admit it.

“What do you want, Bruce?” you groaned when you saw him at your door

“Just wanted to check on you” the man tried to smile

“Look, I’ve already told you that I’m not interested. You creep me out, man. And it’s not because the cops won’t do anything if I call them, that you can keep going here. So please, stay away from me and stop sending me gifts that I need to send you back. We’re not a thing, and we’ll never be” you told him before closing your door.

Bruce knew he was going to lose it.

He started to try and recall what happened the night before everything changed so drastically in his life. He slowly remembered this mission with the mad scientist. He remembered the light he saw right after he was going to sleep by your side. He was feeling so weak and strange then. Something happened then.

He needed to find the man. When he did, the scientist was actually a teacher in the University of Gotham, who was talking about the possibilities of parallel universes. It was how Bruce finally understood what happened. It wasn’t his reality. It wasn't an illusion. It was another world.

For a very brief instant, he felt very bad for the version of himself who had to deal with this world and this constant loneliness. But he couldn’t care. He wanted to get back home, surrounded by his people and their attention. He was relieved in a way because now he knew how to escape from this place.

He worked hard for several months. He showed a very dark version of himself, as he was forcing the scientist to find a way to send him back. He was slowly losing himself. He needed to come back home soon, or he would start to actually kill; why would he care about crossing the lines in a world that wasn’t his? In a city that didn’t like him anyway? In a life where no one loved him?

The media were commenting on how ruthless Batman was lately. Bruce couldn’t help it. He was feeling so bad. And there was this nasty little voice inside his head telling him over and over again that “Maybe no one realised you were gone. Maybe no one wants you back. Maybe that’s why you’re still there months after. Another man is fucking your wife, another man is talking to your children and to Alfred, another man is leading WE and the Justice League. And they all don’t care. Worst, they like him better”

The scientist wasn’t obsessed with the idea of getting rid of Batman so he thought about things quite differently. He found a way to send Bruce back to his world but he didn’t switch places. So when Bruce arrived where he was supposed to be, he was quite shocked to see another him.

What was worse was that you were by his side, laughing at something the man murmured to you. His arm was wrapped around your waist. It was then that your husband noticed how round your belly was. You were pregnant. You were heavily pregnant. There was no way it was actually his child. It had to be his. Didn’t you notice it wasn’t your husband who was making love to you? Or did you want it? Him?

The sole idea was driving him crazy with pain and raw jealousy. The jealousy that the Bruce of the other world felt when he first arrived in this world, the “real” Bruce” felt it too. His life has been stolen away from him, and he needed to get it back. 

It drove him even crazier when he saw how his children acted around the stranger. How could they all seem so happy around him? He hoped that no one understood what happened. He hoped that you all thought it was him.

He didn’t know what to do though. He couldn’t come back to the manor, he couldn’t show his face, so he hid in the dark for a little while. He kept stalking all of you, getting sick in the stomach each time he saw his children or you or the Justice League with his other self. Everyone seemed to do so much better.

Or maybe it was just his paranoia and the mean voices inside his head that wanted to make him believe that you all loved this other Bruce better than him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the child you were carrying. He had wanted that too, but you never seemed ready.

And now…

Now he needed to find you.

--

Part 4

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

Taglist for this series <3 (you’re my heaven)

@bat1212

@karakento

@kneelforloki

Thanks for the ideas <3

@motherofdragons1998

@silverklaus

@optimisticmoonunknown

@kazuko-stuff

[calisources]

𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from different sources about romance, marriage and specially arranged marriage and what that entails. Mentions of affairs, mistresses, wedding ceremonies and medieval talks of what marriage entails follow. Change names, pronouns and locations however you see fit.

Marriage is a marriage, whether it is arranged or not. Both necessitate the same level of dedication.

It’s not an option to be best friends with your life partner; it’s a requirement for a firm foundation in a long-term relationship.

Arranged marriage is not always a bed of roses, but it is possible to achieve with love and faith.

It’s different for women, isn’t it? They have no choice where they go. They grow up in a prison and then get married into one.

Is there anything more courageous/stupid than saying yes to spend your life with someone you have no idea about?

The country was as much of a mystery to me as the man I had married.

One day you’ll be in love with me.

You could be a titled lady. 

I have avoided the fate my father had planned for me. Surely it is I who has won, not he.

I do not care about power and wealth, father. I want to marry for love.

But if you were matched, what do you think she'd be like?

We're supposed to be unable to keep our hands off of each other. 

In this case the time is not so important for me, the person asking for commitment is.

We are trapped by convention and must marry another.

Every good child knows: duty before your heart's desire.

I am to be a bride, but whose? 

I married you to stop the bloodshed, and you keep killing. When will it be enough- when?

I found out soon after we met that Leah’s father had promised her in marriage to some young Pole.

If I ever get into an arranged marriage, I want it to be like theirs.

Arranged marriages require effort; constantly and every day. And where there is love, you want to make these efforts.

A successful arranged marriage can help climb the biggest mountain and build the biggest empire.

An arranged marriage is like wine; it tastes good with time.

You will marry him and do your duty to your House.

You are my daughter and you will do as I say. End of discussion.

Love? What does love have to do with marriage?

He'll honour his duty to family and swallow it.

I was three when my parents promised me. When a deal was struck. 

 So I was raised to be his wife. I was taught my favorite color was gold because his favorite color was gold. I was told my favorite foods were his favorite foods

I never thought what it would actually be like to have him... be gone. 

I was raised for him, and now I am... new. I am brand-new. And I do not even know how to breathe air he does not exhale.

A bride at her second marriage does not wear a veil. She wants to see what she is getting.

Marriage is a financial contract; I have enough contracts already.

The dowry, not the wife, is the object of attraction.

Arranged marriages work like this. The girl is hardly asked and is expected to follow whatever her parents deem fit.

Marry, that marry is the very theme I came to talk of.

Maybe she'll be beautiful. Maybe she'll be rich. As long as she brings swords and men.

Perhaps love is a minor madness.

It doesn't matter who the seed is. The important thing is that it has a place in your womb.

Her maidenhood will seal an alliance and must be kept safe.

Every married woman knows a man can have mistresses and we must look the other way.

All I ask is, that you do not cast me aside. Have mistresses and lovers as you please, but confide in me as I am to be your wife.

A husband’s first and foremost job in a marriage is to protect and love his wife.

Touching without looking had been incredibly arousing.

In my opinion, most marriages are based either on money or the fear of being alone.

I want you in every way there is to want. I want you in any way you choose to share.

I'm free to do with my wife as I fucking please.

The marriage of convenience lasts until you become an inconvenience.

Ours is a marriage of convenience and nothing more.

From now on, you're sleeping in our room. There's no chance in hell I'm letting you sleep far away from me again.

You agreed to this marriage and didn’t even dare to ask my opinion on the matter.

You're going to bend, and so am I. We're going to compromise, negotiate, and distract each other.

Being together means our priorities are going to change.

Men marry because they are tired; women, because they are curious: both are disappointed.

I don't think I am likely to marry, Harry. I am much too in love.

It is certainly romantic to be in love, but there's nothing romantic about a definite proposal.

They are royals, whoever they marry is not their choice but who is better for the crown.

That is a match made in a boardroom.

Once you are wed to another, you will forget me. 

I will marry a man who desires me but I have no interest in. 

I will not be a secret kept in shadows. Once you are wed, I will leave.

How can I marry them, when I am in love with another? It is not fair to them, that I think of you when I’m with them.

Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about.

Behave yourself, out here, we are wed and what you do, reflects on me.

You are being sold like a mare and do not care.

Once I bore him a son, he shall be happy, I know it.

We hate one another but for peace, we must wed. At least, let us enjoy this part of the contract.

I am doing this for my family and for the terms you offer.

A marriage is simply an alliance.

All will be well, love can be found in a marriage. If not love, at least, good company. 

Do your duty and give him sons.  That’s all men want.

I will not be paraded around in a bedding ceremony. I will wed them and bed them, but I will not be humiliated. 

You think this title gives me power, but you forget, I am a woman.

I am lucky enough to have options. None who please me but at least, I can choose one.

Come to bed now, husband. It is our wedding night, after all.

[storiumemporium]

Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

[thehmn]

It might simply be that I don’t frequent ADHD forums enough but I haven’t seen a whole lot of talk about learned social withdrawal.

As a child I made friends left and right but as we all turned into self-conscious teenagers it slowly became more and more difficult for me. Plain and simple, other people thought I was weird. For some reason I never got bullied which I think is related to something my teachers kept telling my parents “She’s such a sweet, bright child and we can tell she’s not malicious or trying to be disruptive on purpose but we can’t teach her anything”

Basically people couldn’t figure me out. I had good social skills with both children and adults, I had a good moral compass, i felt compassion and empathy for others and was willing to go against my friends if I felt they were being bullies, I taught myself English and my drawings showed good observation skills. Because of all that it was decided I should start school a year sooner than most kids and my parents were very proud. Unfortunately that’s probably one of the main reasons why I was never diagnosed with raging ADHD as a child. People soon realized I didn’t do well in a school setting but assumed it was because I ��wasn’t done playing” and my ADHD symptoms were interpreted as childishness.

So as I got older my classmates started to distance themselves from me. They were always kind and friendly but they didn’t know how to deal with me and ever since then people have always been worryingly comfortable with calling me weird to my face. I get the impression it’s because they think it’s a choice on my part. To them I’m clearly of “normal intelligence” so I must be acting like this on purpose and my parents would repeatedly tell me to “just act normal” as a child when I told them I was struggling to make friends. I tried so damn hard but kept failing. I knew something had to be different about me and when I first heard about ADHD I thought “That’s me! That’s how I feel!” but my parents said that was impossible because I wasn’t hyperactive.

Because nobody wanted to help me I eventually learned to just stop trying to make friends and keep to myself. I was so tired of being told by friendly, well-meaning people that I was so weird and quirky and unique only for them to distance themselves once they realized it was permanent and not something I could turn on and off for parties. I always enjoyed being alone so it wasn’t a huge loss but it did feel incredibly lonely at times.

Things got a lot better when I became an adult, mostly because adults are generally more chill than teens so my ADHD behavior isn’t as embarrassing to them and ironically they’re often surprised to learn I don’t make friends easily. Unfortunately I learned to be withdrawn in my formative years so new friends are still a rarity. Before I really sat down and put my past into context I even started to wonder if I had autism despite not connecting with anything autistic people said about their experiences. I went as far as to be tested but wasn’t surprised when the diagnosis was negative because of course it was, I kinda already knew that. I was just looking for an explanation.

So while there can be overlap between ADHD and autism (I have just such a friend) my experience is also that oftentimes people with ADHD simply learn to stay away from social situations and entertain ourselves which ends up looking like autism to outsiders.