#uncontrollably at risk for too because i was told over and over

[phogay]

hrmmm guys im living with the fact that i may have type 2 diabetes and its very hard to not feel like a personal failing (<- grew up w an overweight diabetic mom who drilled it into me to never get fat and never become diabetic due to internalized fatphobia, however i am at risk of diabetes on both sides of my family so despite doing everything moderately "right" i am more likely to develop it than not, knowing this logically i still find myself sitting here going "what did i do wrong, maybe if i had worked harder to be healthy, maybe if i had watched what i ate," etc etc despite these being myths)

[vettelsvee]

YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE | Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian Vettel x Pregnant Wife!Reader

SUMMARY: Seb's wife is pregnant, but she hasn't told him yet since she doesn't seem ready. However, after he almost crashed pretty badly during a Free Practice session, she can't help but tell him in not the best way possible ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Okay but can you imagine Sebs wife being pregnant but she has not told him yet. He does some dangerous and bold move on a drive and she gets mad and scared and just some fluff when he finds out :)

WORD COUNT: 1804

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of anxiety, overthinking about Formula 1 crashes (?), pregnancy, Ferrari Seb in general (if you know, you know)

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @herdetectivetheorist @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Hi guys! Finally back to posting fics! This year I don't only want to write more, but also establish some kind of writing routine because I've been dealing with anxiety over Christmas for some personal problems family related and found out that I missed distressing with writing. Also, thank you so much for all the support you've been showing me lately! Appreciate it a lot since I wasn't feeling very comfortable with my writing. Let me know your thoughts on this one <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Despite being quite far from the pit lane, you could hear nothing but the deafening roar of the engines, the clatter of tools on Kimi's car, and the curses of the race engineers at the constant stunts Seb had decided to pull during the free practice session.  

Your husband's red car seemed not just to race but to fly around the track. FP2 had started barely twenty minutes ago, but Seb had already come within inches of crashing into the walls far too many times after going off track more often than you could count.  

You couldn't deny that you had loved watching Seb race ever since you met and you learned he was a driver in one of the most dangerous sports in the world. Today, however, luck was not on your side, and anxiety was consuming you. The nausea, uncontrollable on its own, felt even worse than usual. Not to mention, you felt on the verge of a panic attack.  

"Are you okay?"  

You turned at the sound of Riccardo Adami’s voice, Seb’s race engineer. The Italian removed one side of his headset and covered the microphone to ensure the driver wouldn’t hear anything.  

"Yes, yes, of course," you replied hastily, forcing a smile and suppressing the urge to gag as you felt it rising in your throat. "I’m just a bit more nervous than usual today, that’s all."  

"Seb knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry about that."  

You nodded, but as soon as Adami turned his attention back to his screen, you rolled your eyes and did the same.  

"You know, sometimes he thinks that he’s a cat and has seven lives," you muttered under your breath. "Someone should remind him he’s in an actual Formula 1 car, not in a simulator."  

"Don’t worry, I’ll remind him in the post-session briefing," the engineer joked, flashing a smile before immersing himself back into Vettel's driving.  

You didn’t pay him much attention. Once again, you were entirely engrossed in both your husband’s onboard camera and the telemetry, even though you didn’t understand much aside from the fact that he was setting purple sectors, which was undoubtedly a good sign.  

You didn’t know much about the inner workings of the cars, but after so many years with Seb, you knew that the faster his times were, the higher the risks became.  

You were also acutely aware that your husband was pushing himself too hard in those moments.  

You began to tremble slightly, fidgeting with your hands in an attempt to calm your anxiety, but it didn’t work. Instinctively, and trying not to draw much attention, you placed your hands on your belly and prayed that your child wouldn’t give you any scares like his father was giving you.  

"Sector two in purple as well, Seb!"  

Even though the garage erupted into cheers and applause, you remained motionless. Instead, you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, which now showed your husband’s car in full view.  

Your panic peaked the moment Seb lost control of the rear of his car and went off the track. You swore that if it hadn’t been for the sudden braking, he would have ended up in the barriers with a wrecked car and himself heading to the medical center because the crash would have likely exceeded the G-force limits.  

When Seb didn’t respond immediately, your heart stopped.  

"I’m fine, I’m fine..." Seb finally said in a disappointed tone. "But I can’t say the same for the car. I think it’s more damaged than it looks."  

"Can you bring it back, Sebastian?" Riccardo asked in a tone that was a mix of irritation and disappointment.  

"Yeah, no problem. Coming back. Sorry, guys."  

Just as no one on the team said anything to you, you, who had forced yourself to sit down because your legs were trembling too much and you felt dizzy, also remained silent until your husband returned and got out of the car.  

Seb removed his helmet, revealing an expression that was hard to decipher. You stood up carefully and approached him, trying to keep your composure. Without giving him a chance to say anything, you grabbed his hand and led him toward his driver room, ignoring Britta's protests to talk after interviews were done.  

"It could have been worse, right?" 

Sebastian closed the door behind him and turned to face you. You stood there with your arms crossed, visibly upset. Your glare alone was enough to tell Seb he was seconds away from one of your infamous scoldings.  

The problem? He had no idea why. You had never acted so strangely over something as common as a collision during a race weekend.  

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you exploded, your voice filled with frustration. “Fuck, Seb, can you explain what that was all about?!”  

“What do you mean, what was that? I was... racing, like I always do, babe,” he replied cautiously, still clueless about what he'd done wrong.  

You, however, didn’t know what was bothering you more: your husband’s calm demeanor or the sight of a few Ferrari team members peeking through the window to catch the drama unfolding between the two of you.  

“You were so close to slamming into a wall, Sebastian, that’s what happened!” you shot back, yanking the curtains shut and flipping off the nosy onlookers. “Are you out of your mind or what?!”  

“Come on, love, I had it under control. What you saw on the onboard might’ve looked bad, but I swear it wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed.”  

“Not as bad as it seemed? Are you seriously telling me that?” you retorted, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think driving is just like playing a video game now? Do you have any idea what it would’ve meant if you hadn’t reacted in time? Do you know what it would’ve meant for me and for—”  

You stopped yourself mid-sentence, refusing to continue.  

You knew your emotions were running wild because of your pregnancy hormones, but you forced yourself to calm down. Getting so worked up would only lead to a pointless argument with Seb and wasn’t good for you or the baby.  

“For who, Y/N?” Seb asked, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his.  

“For... me! Who else?” you replied quickly. 

Sebastian didn’t know how to respond. He’d never seen you so distressed about his racing, and while he tried to stay calm, inside he was battling a storm of worry and confusion.  

“This stress isn’t good for me or for the situation you and, well... you’ve gotten me into,” you said, your voice cracking.  

“Y/N, babe, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about. Fuck, I’m pretty worried about you right now with all this shit, but if you don’t tell me what’s going on—”  

“Damn it, Seb! I’m pregnant!”  

You looked down, tears streaming down your face. You clenched your fists tightly, furious at yourself for revealing such big news in such an emotional, unplanned way.  

Sebastian, meanwhile, stood frozen, his eyes wide in shock at the unexpected news. Slowly, everything started to make sense: your morning sickness, falling asleep all the time, constantly complaining about being tired, and the flimsy excuses you gave for not drinking wine, something you normally loved.  

He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner and for believing your weak justifications about bad leftovers being the cause of everything.  

“You’re... pregnant?” His voice was barely audible, almost afraid to say the words out loud because they didn’t feel real.  

You wiped your tears and sniffled, doing your best to meet your husband’s gaze without feeling ashamed.  

“Yes...” you said timidly. “I wanted to tell you in a special way... you know, by giving you a baby onesie in a box with the positive pregnancy test inside, but...” You shook your head and finally looked him in the eyes. “I thought you were going to die out there today and leave your child and me alone. The thought of losing you, now of all times, just...”  

“You’re really pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”  

You nodded, and Seb couldn’t hold back his tears. He pulled you into a tight embrace and began kissing you tenderly. You melted into his arms, feeling an immense weight lifted from your shoulders.  

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you admitted. “I swear I wanted it to be special, but seeing you out there today, thinking something could happen to you...” Your voice broke again. “I was terrified, Seb, like never before watching you race.”  

“I’m so sorry, love. I really am,” he said sincerely, cupping your cheeks gently and kissing you over and over. “If I’d known, I would’ve been more careful. God, love, this is incredible... This is the best news I’ve ever received.”  

“You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you sooner? You should’ve seen your face earlier...”  

“Mad? That you didn’t tell me sooner?” You shrugged, your insecurity showing despite your years together. Seb tilted his head, understanding this was one of your rare but extreme moments of doubt. “I’m just... in shock. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents...”  

Sebastian hesitantly touched your stomach, and you burst into fresh tears at the tenderness of his gesture.  

“Now you have to promise me something, Seb,” you said, playing with his hair as he knelt before you, leaving kisses on your belly.  

“Anything for you and our little one.”  

“You need to be more careful from now on. Stop thinking so much with your adrenaline and testosterone, and start using your brain more,” you said, trying not to sound too harsh. “I know Formula 1 and racing is your whole life, but I don’t want you risking it when we’re bringing a new one into the world. I’m eight weeks along, and we still have 32 to go assuming everything follows the perfect pregnancy script.”  

Seb stood and gazed at you, trying to convey the calm you both could only find in each other.  

“Love, I promise,” he whispered softly. “For you, for the baby... I love winning, but today, and even more so when our child is born, I’ll have won the second most important race of my life.”  

You frowned, confused.  

“If that’s the second, what’s the most important race of your life then?”  

He chuckled and scooped you into his arms, kissing you again as he laid you both on the couch behind you.  

“The race I ran for so many years to win your heart,” he murmured between slow, deliberate kisses that said more than words ever could. “After all those years trying to get you to go out with me in high school, and now we’re eight months away from having a baby... what else could it be, mama?”  

[elusivedew]

golden.

✧ synopsis ⤐ spencer is gentle, even in the darkest hours of the night.

✧ contains ⤐ several references to sex, this is all about aftercare. post-prison spence except I haven't gotten that far yet so don't mind any inaccuracies, I just thought he deserves something nice ♡ w.c ~ 1.3k

Your muscles ache. It's a low pleasant hum reverberating through your body, similar to the feeling after a long strenuous day, but nowhere as exhausting. Your heart is still pounding in your chest like an uncontrolled feeling, but it feels so full.

Spencer, the culprit in this story, shifts beside you to pull the covers over your exposed body. He’s gentle and tentative, like he always is, especially after nights like this. It’s like he's apologizing for defiling you the way he does, always concerned about going too far or making you feel uncomfortable. He looks down at you with familiar, warm hazel eyes, and you wonder how he could ever do any of those things.

He brings you closer, an arm coming around your waist to pull you against him. You move to lay on his bare shoulder, the skin-on-skin contact soothing all your stimulated neurons. While you’re slowly coming back to earth, still slightly starry-eyed, you listen to the sound of his heartbeats. You count them, memorize them, get to know him through the organ behind the flesh. It’s so serene that you almost doze off, but Spencer’s raspy voice shakes you awake. 

“Angel.”

You hum, unmoving and consumed by the visions in your head. 

He rubs your shoulder, willing you back to the present. You move to look up at him, and his smile is so sweet that you almost can’t believe he’s the same guy from a few minutes ago. But, then again, no one who knows Spencer would expect him to be so skilled at stealing your breath right out of your body. 

That’s something that no one else will experience with him now that you’re here. You smile, feeling proud and territorial. 

“What are you smiling about?” He leans down and kisses you, you want to ask for more but you’re spent. 

“Nothing,” you whisper against his lips, “Just the fact that you're all mine.” 

He grins, wide and boyish, and you wish his face would glow like that all the time. His flushed face and messed up hair, both being your handiwork, make your heart feel like it's about to burst right out of your chest. Despite just getting your fill of him, you wish you could eat him up right now. 

“Can’t argue with that”, his eyes twinkle playfully, “we still have to get you cleaned up before you can go to bed.” 

You grunt, “god, not again.”

“I’m not letting you go to sleep like that, and you know you’re risking a UTI if you don’t pee before you knock out. It’s essential for a pleasant experience that you wash up properly after, do you know how much bodily fluid you’re covered in right now?” 

You frown, when he says it like that, it sounds really gross, but it’s what you get for being with a germaphobe.

“I hate this part.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear and plants a kiss on your forehead that smoothes your frown down, “I know you do. C’mon, I’ll help you up.” 

Getting up proves to be the easy part, getting up on your legs however, it wasn't as steady as you hoped it would be. When you're forced to sit down on the bed again because the pain pierces through your pelvis so suddenly it feels like getting electrocuted, Spencer looks concerned. 

“Cramps again? I really have to slow down next time.” 

You groan, “no, Spence, I've told you before it’s fine. Just means we had a little too much fun, and it's not a bad thing.” 

He nods hesitantly, “are you sure?” 

“Yeah I am, just,” you reach your arms out, “carry me?” 

His concern is quickly replaced by a bright smile, “gladly.”

Within a few minutes, you’re both out of the bedroom and in the bathtub. Spencer hates the bathtub. He hates sitting down to take a bath and always voices out his concerns about how counterproductive it is to soak in contaminated water. Knowing that he likes to remind you of that everytime you’re taking a bath, Spencer must be dead tired to just sit his naked butt down in the tub, but you’re not complaining. 

Because he’s the sweetest boy on earth, he helps you wash up first, getting all the spots you can’t reach yourself easily. When he’s lazily washing your hair, you decide it’s the perfect moment to start babbling about nonsense, sleep deprivation and bliss mixing together to jumble up all your coherent thoughts. 

“My favorite thing about you being away is when you come back.” 

“So there’s other good things about me being gone?” The smile is so clear in his voice. 

You turn around to scoff at him, “Spence, terrible time to be a smartass.” 

He grins, “it’s never a terrible time to be a smartass.”

It’s quiet for the rest of the bath, you let him clean you up because you can barely see anymore. It’s three in the morning and he came home around midnight. You were already tired by then, but you missed him too much to not take the chance to immediately take him to bed— it’s hard to resist your boyfriend when his hair is growing out again and he hasn’t shaved in 2 weeks.

When the bath is done, he dries you off and helps you get dressed. You’re distracted by his bare chest the whole time, watching the flexion of his arms when he puts a shirt over your head. Then you sit on the bed, observing as he gets dressed. After nearly three hours of touching him in every possible way, his body is still so mesmerizing to you. Nearly three years of being together and countless incidents of unholy experiences, and you still feel like you’re seeing him for the first time. 

“Are you done observing?”

You’re broken out of your lust-filled thoughts by the sound of his voice. Looking up at his face, you're met by a crooked smile that makes you slightly breathless. He walks over to the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, and you welcome him with open arms. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You grin, arms tightly secured around his waist. He runs his fingers through your hair, “you’ve never been a very good liar.” 

Your final step getting ready for bed is letting him braid your hair. You always ask him to do it for you because he’s magical with his hands, his braid always coming out perfectly in a way you could never manage. You’ve taught him a lot about how to care for your hair, and as he tentatively and gently crosses the strand to draw up his perfect braid, you can’t help but think about how good of a father he would be if you ever had a little girl. 

When all of that's done, there's nothing coming between you and the bed anymore. You curl up under the covers as he slips in beside you. You're both tired, from the long day and the long night, but the sense of bliss that comes over you is possibly the most satisfied you've ever been. 

You look at him, reaching out to trace the outline of his stubble. He leans into your touch eagerly while you admire him some more, feeling every small detail over his skin. You know he needs the tenderness just as much as you do, especially when he's had long days at work. You know all the monsters he sees at his job secretly haunt him, and you know that he feels hopeful every time he's in your arms— because the world doesn't have to end every time he has to confront cruelty, and there’s love and adoration out there that almost overpowers the poisonous hate.

You reach for his hands, kissing the calluses on his fingertips. You know holding his gun comes with heavy responsibility, a responsibility that’s made him so much tougher than he was when he first started. When you’re done planting a kiss on every fingertip, you kiss his lips one more time, because you love him and you want him to know it. He smiles into the kiss and you’re sure he does. 

The gold in his eyes is the last thing you see before falling asleep. 

[minswriting]

KINKTOBER 6 - reunion sex and discipline (aaron hotchner x reader)

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | spanking, reunion sex, discipline

note: i wrote this at 6 AM so this definitely is so bad lol

Your breakup with Aaron had been a bit messy. It was emotional, all due to him not wanting you to be in danger. There was a killer going after him and he didn’t want you to fall victim like his ex wife had. Which of course you understood but it led to this huge fight that had you sobbing uncontrollably and disobeying him by trying to lure the killer to you.

But now, you stand in front of Aaron, a month after the breakup, looking at his bruised face and you couldn’t help but feel a longing for him. And clearly he was feeling the same. And before you knew it, the two of you were kissing, grasping for each other and clothes flying off.

The two of you made it to the couch, holding onto one another. Aaron sat down, pulling you onto his lap. “I missed you,” he said softly. “But you need to be taught not to disobey me.”

You let out a shaky breath, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.” You replied. “I missed you too.”

“You know what to do when you disobey my orders, sweetheart,” Aaron exclaimed, licking his lips.

You pouted, maneuvering yourself to lay across his lap with your ass in the air. You knew exactly what was coming. And while punishments weren’t supposed to be your favorite, you can’t say you didn’t like it. Because truth be told, after a good spanking, you’re always much more needy and soaking.

And so, Aaron got to work.

Spank. Spank. Spank.

Smack after smack and each time you let out a painful whine or moan. It stung but also felt very good. Deep down you knew luring out the killer was a very bad move on your end. You shouldn’t have done it because it did risk your life in a way that you never really expected. But the situation was done and over now. And the most you could do was gladly take whatever Aaron was giving you.

The spanking didn’t stop for a while. Not until both cheeks were a vivid red and your pussy absolutely drenching. And when Aaron stopped, he wrapped his arms around you to move you to be sitting on his lap facing him. Your eyes were glistening with tears from the stinging but otherwise, you were alright.

“Please don’t actively put yourself in danger again,” Aaron said, looking at you seriously.

“I won’t.” You replied honestly.

And the rest of the night was spent fucking one another until the sun came up.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x disabled!reader with chronic pain (not specified)

series masterlist - my masterlist

you should have known better than to go on the mission yesterday, but there’s nothing you hate more than feeling weak and patronised. charles had told you to sit it out if you were in pain, and you’d snapped back that you could handle missions just as well as any other x-man which, while true, doesn’t mean you should push yourself past your limits.

you can’t even get out of bed, every small movement making you whimper and groan as pain shoots through you, unforgiving. after so long dealing with chronic pain, you sometimes think you should be used to it, but no matter how many years go by and how many flares you experience, it never gets any easier.

logan’s upset with you, huffy and fussing, repeating over and over how you should have listened to charles, how the professor only wants what’s best for you, and telling you that it’s idiotic to let your pride take over. he’s being hypocritical, but you know it’s only because he hates to see you this way, hates to see you vulnerable, worries that one day something will happen and the x-mansion will be attacked and you’ll be in too much pain to effectively defend yourself.

so you let him take care of you, because you know it makes him feel better. it allows him a modicum of control over an uncontrollable situation. he, unlike you, has not yet given up on the idea of finding methods to lessen your chronic pain.

he helps you take your medication, brings you food and water, goes so far as to feed you so that you don’t even have to shift your body in case it’s too much. he waits by your side until the drugs kick in, refusing to leave until you tell him to go.

he asks jean to check in on you, asks if there’s anything she can do with all of her medical knowledge - the answer is no, there is no cure to a condition like yours, only techniques to lessen the pain temporarily. he searches for the few mutants in the mansion with healing abilities and practically begs them for help; it’s the only time he lets anyone see him vulnerable, because he hates to see you in pain and would do anything to bring your usual smile back to your face.

you groan in annoyance when he returns to your room with a slightly scared-looking teenager that you vaguely remember teaching last year, but she takes some of your pain away and so you thank the kid. she blushes and whispers “you’re welcome” before skittering out the room, and you’re now able to move enough to turn towards logan with your arms crossed over your chest, an unimpressed stare leveled at his face.

“she asked to help!” he protests, “he overheard me talking to jean about your pain and she offered. i didn’t force her to do anything.”

you sigh. chronic pain can’t be healed even with mutant abilities, you’ve tried it all before. it can take away the worst of it in the same way that some medication can, help with the inflammation that comes with a flare up, bring it down to manageable levels. but you’ll never be free of this burden.

“come here,” you say, and he does, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to give you anything and everything you desire. it’s ridiculous and you laugh, the first real smile you’ve shown all day, now that every breath no longer feels like a battle not to cry out in pain.

you stay in bed the rest of the day. it’s better to take it easy for a while than to risk anything. and logan stays with you, massaging at your muscles until they relax under his strong grip, leaving only to bring you more meals and your medication. he kisses you every time you complain that he surely has better things to be doing, covering your mouth with his large palm as he reminds you that you’re the most important thing to him now.

main taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

[lanasblood]

BIG EYES, BIG LIES | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!metkayina!reader  summary: you've had suffered silently from years of bullying within the metkayina clan, never sharing your pain with anyone, not even your boyfriend neteyam, until one day, there's no other option, resulting in a huge argument between the two of you but also a moment of understanding and healing.  word count: 5.8k warnings: angsty beginning, fluffy end, !!!severe mentions of bullying, injuries, violence, blood!!! (read at your own risk), established relationship, protective neteyam, angry neteyam, healer boyfriend neteyam, difficult past, lying, insults, some suggestive comments, let me know if i forgot something. note: all characters are aged up; the following na’vi words were used: tsurak - skimwing, skxawng - idiot, pxasìk - screw that/no way, kurkung - asshole, kalweyaveng - son of a bitch (lit. 'child of a poisonous spider‘), tsantu - good guy

* gif's not mine. 

The familiar sound of your name said over and over again lured you into consciousness. You had lost all sense of the space-time continuum, not knowing where up or down was, whether you were alive or dead. 

Only the pain was omnipresent, it told you it was real what you felt. It burned and pulsed, throbbed and tingled. You surrendered to this pain for what felt like an eternity, groaning again in agony because every movement, no matter how tiny, hurt.

"You are awake."

A bright voice made you widen your eyes. Everything was dark, shadowy, intangible, strange.

Panic flooded your body and only now did you feel the cold around your legs, your aching body. It was dark, almost black. The kind of perfect darkness you saw in shades of dark grey in front of your eyes as a result of signals from the optic nerves. You were lying on the ground of the empty marui near the seawall terraces. 

"No, don't move. Please." 

You only heard a single voice, but you felt many more echoing in your pounding head. Hands were on your shoulders, apparently wanting to prevent you from making too hectic movements or even getting up, which increased your panic.

"Right, uh, light, light, light, mhm — Ah, there! Wait here!" 

You squinted against the darkness again, hoping to see something, but the only thing you could really see clearly was a beam of soft dancing lights coming through the small crack under the entry into the marui you were in and the faint outline of the person kneeling in front of you.

Before you could reply anything, the light coming from a bioluminescent seashell was held in your face without warning and you squinted your eyes again, trying to protect them from the purple light. 

"I'm so sorry, y/n I should've warned you," you heard the person in front of you speak who happens to be none other than Neteyam's brother, Lo'ak. "Damn! You don't look good at all!"

Thank you.

"What happened?"

"I guess, I, um…" Quick, you had to think of a good lie now, "I didn't feel so good after today's training. You know, high intensity under the sun can be exhausting," You looked down at yourself and noticed your bloodstained upper piece. "And it, uh, caused nose-bleeding…" You noticed the many bruises on your legs. "I must've fainted because of it, hurting myself." 

"I can see that," Lo'ak looked pitifully at the left side of your face, right under your eye, then shifted his gaze to your bruised upper lip, and back at the place right under your hairline. "Did you fall face-first or something? That looks so baaaad."

Thanks again, appreciated.

"I, uh, yeah, can you help me up?" 

A sharp pain shot through your chest as Lo'ak pulled you up by your arm and you had to grab the wall to catch your breath. You coughed uncontrollably as whatever it was that caused that pain left you breathless. Lo'ak patted you gently on the back, carefully, but every touch hurt.

"I didn't know you had to train so hard. I thought you had a fun day as we did, playing with the ilus."

"My teacher's very strict unfortunately."

"Hmm."

"What are you doing here anyway? It's the girls' communal marui."

Lo'ak's eyes widened at your question, "I swear I'm not some kind of creep," he quickly said, "Tsireya said she lost her hair band so I figured I look for it here," he looked at the ground beneath his feet, which was smeared with dirt and blood – your blood, "but maybe it's not here, yeah, anyway, good thing I came here or else you would've died or something."

"I wouldn't have died," you said, amazed at his dramatic exaggeration.

Lo'ak shrugged his shoulders, "Not so sure about that."

You followed his gaze and your reflection in the mirror caught your attention. Your skin was sticky, your clothes were damp with blood and sweat, and you felt gross. 

"I, uh," Feeling a sense of embarrassment, Lo'ak gestured with his finger towards the spot behind the marui, "I'll just quickly go… there, uh, for a moment. Will you be okay?" You nodded. "Neteyam is near, by the way, we have a chill round with Tsireya and Ao'nung and the others, how about you come with me?" You stared at him as if frozen, but eventually managed to nod once more. "Perfect. Okay. See you in a minute." With that, he left you alone, and you felt your breath quicken. 

On one hand, a sense of relief washed over you at the thought of Neteyam being nearby and able to be there for you when you needed him. On the other hand, you had no idea how you would talk your way out of this situation. He would ask questions, and it would become uncomfortable. Old lies would threaten to resurface. The thought made your stomach churn.

You noticed how your shawl, which you had wrapped around yourself, had absorbed the blood, leaving the fabric irreparably stained. In this condition, going home was out of the question. Not only would your mother be beside herself upon seeing you, but you also had to pass through the communal areas to reach your marui. Once Lo'ak was out of sight, you struggled to slip the fabric off your shoulders, feeling the pain in every single bone. You realized that even your upper piece hadn't been spared as you held the shawl under the water and noticed the stains on your upper body.

Outside the marui, you kneeled down with an effort, and decided to wash your hands and face in one of the pool's water. A drop of pinkish-red-colored sweat dripped from your chin into the water, or maybe it wasn't sweat at all, who knew, it could be tears as well, you shouldn't just limit it to sweat.

"That's what I get for lying," you hissed at yourself, while your hands dunk back into the water, getting everything else around you, including half of your upper body, wet.

You decided to wash the red stains out of your shawl, the water changing its color around your hands to a washed-out reddish blur.

There was a clearing of the throat in the distance, perhaps just a few meters away from you.

"I'm coming back, y/n, okay?"

You cursed under your breath, focussing solely on removing the stains as you washed the shawl in your hands even more aggressively now, the noise of the splashing water being louder than your own thoughts.

"Let's go!" Lo'ak stood behind you.

Before you knew it, you had torn the light blue fabric in your hand. You closed your eyes in defeat and suppressed another curse word. It was a shame actually, because you liked combining the shawl with matching loincloths over various chest pieces you were wearing most of the time. You at least convinced yourself that you wouldn't have gotten the bloodstains out anyway, so the fate of the garment was sealed from the start, even before you had accidentally torn it.

Setting aside the damp piece of torn fabric, you stood up with a sigh and turned to Lo'ak, ready to follow him to wherever he would take you. At least you had washed most of the blood off your body.

"Thank you for not dying on me," Lo'ak joked next to you and all you could manage was a small smile. Your entire body ached, and every step you took felt as if you could collapse at any moment.

In the distance, you could discern a gathering of young Na'vi near the shoreline, forming a circle as they enjoyed each other's company. Some sat or reclined in the sand, while others perched on rocks, and a few stood, perhaps sharing tales. Their laughter resonated through the air, creating a joyful ambiance against the backdrop of the shimmering water and the twinkling stars above.

Just a few meters away, Lo'ak gave you a final thumbs-up, leading the way to the group with you by his side, and the clamor of voices grew increasingly chaotic, enveloping both of you in its midst.

"No, of course not, it should fear us!"

"What are you talking about? Not even my grandma would fear you!"

"Your grandma isn't a fish, is she?"

"Don't say anything against my grandma!"

Your head felt like exploding any second. Not because of the boys, but because you felt the need to lie down. That's what you thought until you suddenly heard Neteyam's calm voice, and instantly, you felt a little bit better.

"If you approach it with the right mindset and undergo the necessary training, I have no doubts you will succeed!"

"No, he definitely has no chance, look at him, like a squid in armor."

Tsireya, who had refrained from the heated discussion, was the only one who looked up. As her eyes met yours, they widened, and she quickly rose from her seat, approaching you. With a gentle and questioning gaze, she placed a hand on your arm, showing her concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a soft voice searching your gaze. Appreciating her care, you placed your hand on hers, mustering a small smile.

You heard how Lo'ak cleared his throat, as it seemed that nobody else had noticed you.

"Don't mind them, y/n," Lo'ak turned to you, as your presence remained unnoticed by the boys, "You can take my seat over there next to Tsireya's while I go find you a new shawl." 

"No, here, take mine," Tsireya suggested already putting her shawl over your shoulders, the piece hugging your torso. 

After that it got quiet very quickly, because when your name was mentioned, Neteyam looked up, and with him the others.

Immediately he got up from the rock he was sitting on and in a few steps he stood right in front of you, hesitating whether he should hug you, and finally decided to do so. When he carefully put his arm around you and pulled you close, you hissed slightly out of pain and suddenly felt even more fragile and broken than in all of the previous weeks. 

"I go and bring some new clothing for her," you heard Tsireya's voice, "and maybe some wound dressing from my mother." You saw out of the corner of your eye how Lo'ak nodded gratefully when Tsireya was already hurrying away. 

You didn't feel like crying, but you felt so weak and helpless and wanted to just stand there for hours while Neteyam hugged you.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice thick with concern. 

"Is that blood?" you heard the other boys whisper among themselves.

"Did you see her face, man?"

Rotxo's voice stood out more than the others as he addressed his question directly to you, repeating Neteyam's words, "What happened, y/n?"

You stayed quiet and pressed closer to Neteyam despite the pain, and Lo'ak did the answering for you, "The training today under the sun made her nose bleed out of exhaustion or allergy or something so that she passed out," he explained hastily, heading back to his seat.

You felt Neteyam stiffen in the hug and you squinted to escape reality for a few more seconds.

"First of all, what kind of lie is that even?" Your heart sank when you heard one of the boys – you guessed Ao'nung – talking loudly, questioning the course of action, and before long everyone else was about to join in the conversation, one at a time. And with every sentence you felt the urge to leave the place on the spot. 

"Ask y/n, I swear that's what happened! I found her near the marui by the seawall terraces."

"She might have been passed out but pxasìk — I don't buy that!"

"What were you doing there, Lo'ak?" someone else with longer hair asked. 

"None of your business, bro."

"And second of all, she rather looks like she was beaten up." At that, Neteyam pushed you slightly away from him to give you a questioning look and inspect you more closely. His eyes alternated between yours and you recognized how the hint of suspicion crept into his eyes.

"She was clearly beaten up!" The girl on the far left, Neteyam's sister, Kiri, unexpectedly supported Ao'nung's statement, which was highly unusual for her. It wasn't her cold demeanor towards you that was atypical, but rather her agreement with Ao'nung that caught you off guard.

"Yeah, right! I mean, look at her." Every head turned to you now, inspecting you from head to toe, as if you were some kind of object.

"That's not true," you argued weakly, supporting yourself on the tree with your left hand, and grabbing Neteyam's hand with your right one because your feet threatened to buckle any second. Noticing that, he lead you to the rock right in front of you and carefully helped you sit down.

"The real question is who did that to poor y/n?"

"Why? You wanna beat up some girls for her?"

"Girls? I thought it'd be some kurkung from the tsurak taming team."

"Hey, don't say that, they're cool."

"Yeah, and don't cuss when Kiri and y/n are here."

"They are no children."

"Tsireya's back!" Lo'ak's voice drowned out the others, not surprising given the fact how loud he announced the return of the soft-spoken girl. Apart from you no one seemed to pay any attention to him, they were far too busy arguing amongst themselves.

"Nah, man, what kinda skxawng beats girls? Not me for sure." 

"Let's teach those guys a lesson then."

"So now you wanna beat up guys for her?"

"Why not? She's Neteyam's girl, she's one of us." 

"True words." You frowned as you realized how much they had gotten into the discussion when Tsireya handed you a neatly packed bag with fresh clothing inside which you gratefully accepted.

"Why would you all choose violence all of a sudden?" Tsireya looked around with an irritated expression, not sure what she had missed in the last couple of minutes.

"Those kalweyavengs deserve it!"

"You skxawng don't talk like that in front of my sister."

"But, you said—"

"Everybody quiet!" You winced slightly when you heard the anger in his voice vibrate through his body; he who had kept quiet the whole time, just observing, never speaking. Instantly it fell silent at the beach and all eyes were on Neteyam, except for yours. 

"It has gotten late," he added, quieter but clearly audible, "We should all go back to the village." You expected a protest to erupt, but you were wrong again. Without a word, the individual heads of that group got up from where they sat on rocks or the sand, and left the beach, heading in the direction of the village, one after the other. 

"Thank you, brother," Neteyam spoke as Lo'ak passed by, giving him a grateful pat on the back of his head. You caught Lo'ak nodding at him and giving you a pitiful look, and you managed to mouth a 'thank you' as well before he left. 

"Why did you lie to him?" Neteyam nodded his head in the direction of his now-gone brother. "To Lo'ak, I mean."

You stared at your hands on your lap instead of answering him, so he sighed and knelt in front of you, positioning himself between your legs. With a gentle touch, he placed his hands on each of your thighs, right at the hem of your loincloth.

"I'm seriously worried, y/n, and it's almost a miracle I'm staying calm right now. What happened?" He cocked his head and looked up, searching for the gaze you were trying so hard to avoid. "Please talk to me." The gentle touch of his hands on your thighs, which you usually never got enough of, now felt like a burning sensation, causing inner agony within you.

"I didn't want to tell him the truth," you finally said, answering his first question.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"It's nothing, Neteyam, I—"

"Nothing?" He laughed wryly, letting go and walking away from you as he walked around in a circle and turned back with an ironic smile that didn't reach his eyes, his tail whipped aggressively behind him, "That certainly doesn't look like nothing to me." He gestured to you with both hands.

You covered your face with your hair because you could only imagine how terrible you must've looked, how disgusted he must've been with you, that he thought you weren't beautiful.

"You're in pain. You have bruises everywhere. You're covered in blood! And yet you say it's nothing. Do you listen to yourself?"

"I can handle it," you replied, adding more quietly, "It's not that I'm not used to it."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," you said quickly, irritated by his questions, "I mean nothing at all. Can… can you help me change into these?" You held up the bag from Tsireya which provided a good change of subject. It would be impossible for you to raise both arms and put the pieces on by yourself. On second thought, Neteyam would see the bruises on your chest that way, and the mere thought made your stomach ache. Therefore, realizing that the shawl provided good cover and not wanting to part with it, you added a quick, "Nevermind, I'll do it myself."

As if he had read your thoughts, he approached you with a determined gaze. Your breath caught as you felt his hand pull the shawl from your shoulders. Quickly, you clung to the fabric, stopping mid-movement, and placed your other hand on his to stop him from exposing your skin.

"Please," you looked him in the eyes, your voice barely audible. You didn't know what you begged him for. To stop him from seeing your injuries? To stop touching you? To stop asking questions? To stop digging for the truth? Did you want him to stop in the first place? Or did you want him to find out and free you from your net of lies?

He gently slipped your shawl off your shoulders, and then sucked in a sharp breath and bit the inside of his cheek, apparently trying to keep himself from swearing but the restless movements of his tail gave him away.

You didn't have to look to see that a huge wound must have been looming on your collarbones and on your side right under your breasts. Judging by the pain, you wouldn't be surprised if some ribs were broken.

"Who did this to you." It was no longer a question driven by curiosity, as he had asked earlier. This was serious. He wanted names and locations. He wanted to know who had done such a dreadful thing to his loved one. Who dared to harm you in any way. Judging by the fire in his eyes, he wanted to see that person bleed the way you did. 

"Are you going to beat up some girls for me?" You playfully repeated the question you'd heard one of the boys say before. However, the way Neteyam clenched his jaw showed you it wasn't time to crack up some jokes.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Y/n."

"Neteyam."

He studied you intently, examining every facial expression, every subtle gesture, before speaking again, "You never slipped down any cliffs last week, did you?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "And what about last month when you said you—"

"I lied, okay?" you shouted at him, unleashing the pent-up frustration, as if he were the cause of your misery. "I made it all up. Every single bit of it. I'm a liar, and I'm a coward. Are you happy now?" 

"Happy? It pains me to see you like that," he retorted, his voice rising with frustration, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"What was I supposed to say!?" you shouted back, your voice filled with exasperation. "Cry like a baby and point at them for being mean to me?"

"No, but someone could've helped. Everything is better than that!" His tone was raised as well when he pointed at your bruises.

"They won't! I tried!" you hissed, the bitterness evident in your voice, "Once, when I was little and foolishly believed that my parents would trust and listen to me. But what did they do? They forced us to hug and pretend to be friends again, dismissing it all as a mere misunderstanding among children. And you know what happened next? They sought their revenge by cutting my hair," you swallowed hard, the memory of that painful incident resurfacing, "I cried so much that day. That's when I made a promise to myself that I would never tell anyone anything again." 

"I am here now, I hear you, I see you," he responded gently, his voice filled with empathy, "Please, let me help." You shook off the hand that he tried to place on your shoulder. He silently acknowledged this, a hurt expression crossing his eyes, which he quickly concealed.

"There's nothing you can do. I've learned from my mistake today: Don't confront them when it's four against one. Simple solution," you stated firmly, emphasizing your resolve.

"I am eager to find out who they are," he expressed with a determined tone.

"It's not important."

"Y/n," Neteyam shook his head, his expression firm, "I won't be at peace unless you tell me their names."

"Don't ask me!" you once again raised your voice against him. "I won't say anything. You make it worse for me."

"I am the one making it worse?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yes," you said firmly, causing him to blink in surprise. "Please, Neteyam, for the love of Eywa, stop asking!"

"Understood," he nodded, his nose flared up and his tail on edge.

"You're pissed, I can understand that… but I don't deserve the way you treat me right now. You're pushing me too much." 

"What do you exactly want me to do?!" His voice erupted with anger, his frustration visible, "Yes, I am pissed. But not because of the lies or because of your bruises. I am pissed because of you. Because of the way you're behaving right now. Your eye and the bruises on your face and body were not an accident, that's a fact we both are aware of. Yet, you choose to protect them. But why? It seems you're too proud to admit the truth, to tell me the truth."

"That's not true!" you yelled at him angrily, annoyed by repeating yourself over and over again.

He let out a groan of frustration, seemingly struggling to maintain self-control, "Just tell me who did this to you and I will make sure they regret ever laying a finger on you!"

He waited for your response.

You remained silent, holding your ground against his warning gaze for a long moment.

"Good," he interrupted the eye contact and nodded his head, "Then don't trust me, it's fine."

"Neteyam…"

"This is pointless." Neteyam brushed you off, walking back towards the village, not giving you another look when he passed your shoulder.

"Neteyam, don't walk away from me," you snapped out, feeling anger flare up inside of you. You reached out and grabbed his arm. 

He stopped, slowly turning to face you.

"Just… stop for a second, okay?" you said in an irritated tone.

"Why?" He retorted. 

He was staring at you, and you were staring back at him, and you were suddenly hyper aware of how close he was standing to you. Both of you breathing heavily, anger and frustration ebbing between the two of you; you were standing close, so close. You were suddenly struck by how attractive he was, his eyes flashing as he stared at you, searching your face for any answers when he took another step closer. 

"If only you knew how much it hurts to be pushed away like this."

Before you knew what was happening, he brushed off your arm again, and walked away, leaving you to yourself and your lies. And this time, you didn't stop him; you only focussed on the point where he was standing just seconds ago, thinking of his words that left a deep pain in your chest, making you choke on your own words and tears falling from your eyes.

A little later, as you sat on the sand, lost in your thoughts, you hopefully perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching in the sand. Your heart fluttered with hope, and you hastily wiped away the tears from your face, turning around with anticipation, expecting to see Neteyam, but to your surprise it was just Kiri.

"Where's Neteyam?" she asked you.

"Gone." You put the little shell you were playing with back on the sand and traced the pattern with your finger.

"Well, you're here, so I'm sure he'll come back." You strongly doubted that, considering the way he had last looked at you.

"He was really angry," you mumbled, thinking back to your little argument. You spoke more to yourself than to Kiri. In fact, you didn't even think she heard you or paid any attention to you when you heard her gather and pack up the two pillows and the seaweed blanket that she forgot before. Yet her next question made you look up in surprise.

"But can you blame him?" Kiri narrowed her eyes in annoyance as she looked at you.

"I'm sorry?" you looked at her expectantly.

Kiri puffed bored, "My brother has always been courteous and polite towards you. He was the  perfect definition of tsantu. Oh, Great Mother— he stripped his soul for you and gave you everything you wanted. Do you really blame him for getting angry for once?"

You focused your gaze back on the sand in front of you. The little shells looked like they were expecting an answer from you that never came for you didn't know what to reply to that.

"You are a grown girl. You have to be able to take a little criticism," Kiri added as she headed back to the village, "And I'm sure you both will fix it again. Buck up and get well soon." You nodded your thanks as she raised her hand in farewell and left again.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell over you, enveloping you like a suffocating blanket. At that moment, you felt utterly alone, isolated from the world around you not even caring of your body's aches anymore. Mirroring the depths of your solitude under the dark skies, the vast expanse of the ocean stretched out before you. Its endless waves, crashing against the shore, seemed to echo the tumultuousness of your thoughts. 

You had no idea how long you had been sitting in the sand, lost in contemplation of your life when you heard footsteps behind you once again that night. This time, you didn't bother to look up, for you knew it would be one of the others who had forgotten something (though you were unsure what, as Kiri had taken everything), or perhaps your parents, searching for you.

Without a word, the person sat down across from you on his knees and reached out with his arm to pull you closer to him so that your thighs were between his knee and his between yours.

In an instant, the unmistakably pleasing scent of him infused with a mix of dew-kissed leaves and the earthy allure of sandalwood, clung to you like a whispered secret, caressed your nose and relaxed your muscles. 

You endured it silently as he took a cloth out of the bowl of water he brought with him, wrung it out briefly and then carefully dabbed the area under your eye with it. He did this with so much caution and care that you felt bad for emotionally pushing him away from you. You watched his forehead furrow in concentration and he paused and waited every time you flinched at the pain.

"Since when?" you heard him speak, his voice pleasantly calm and understanding.

"Too long," you said, to which he sighed, not annoyed but rather disappointed because you continued to hold onto the emotional wall you had built long ago. "I'm sorry, Neteyam, it's just…" you struggled to find the right words.

"There's no need for apologies if you're content with staying the same."

"I'm not," you clarified honestly. "You have no idea how burdensome these lies are. I want to confide in you — it's just that I was scared of your reaction." As you spoke, you noticed how his tail twitched with interest, and his gaze shifted from the wound on your face to meet your eyes. "I was afraid that you would see me as weak and pity me. I had hoped that the lies would help me preserve this fragile facade. But I now realize I was mistaken, and for that I'm deeply sorry, Neteyam, I've never wanted to hurt your feelings."

"Y/n," Neteyam whispered, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek with a touch filled with love and affection, "my beloved, the one who holds my heart, I am sorry for pushing you before and I will wait until you are ready to talk but, please, tell me how I can help you. Tell me everything."

You shrugged, shaking your hand, looking everywhere but him.

"Neteyam, I know you want to help, but I don't want you to mess with these girls," you then looked him serious in the eyes, "Promise me that first."

A cocky smirk appeared on his lips, "Baby, if you really think I'm scared of some—"

"Neteyam," you interrupted him, your tone serious, "They may be bullies, but they're not completely stupid. They won't direct their actions towards you; they'll most likely take their anger out of your siblings."

His smirk vanished in an instant, "You know, I won't let that happen."

"I know," you affirmed sincerely. "You are their brother, and you will protect them, but you can't be everywhere all at once. You can't keep a constant watch over Tuk while also looking after Lo'ak or Kiri, for instance. Please don't risk it. I can handle it, really. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to one of them because of me."

"I am yours, and you are mine, remember?" He smiled at you, his eyes shining. "So, you are not alone in this. I will go to any lengths to ensure your safety and well-being. I will protect you, y/n, but you must allow me to be there for you."

As the words hung in the air, a moment of silence passed between you, the weight of the conversation lingering. Then, Neteyam reached out, his hand gently intertwining with yours. The touch sent a comforting warmth through your body, bridging the emotional gap that had momentarily separated you.

With a tender squeeze of your hand, he continued, his voice filled with unwavering determination, "You are my family, too." 

Feeling a surge of emotions, you took a deep breath, your heart swelling with love. You looked into Neteyam's eyes, seeing the unwavering commitment reflected back at you. With a soft smile, you nodded, letting your walls come down, and whispered, "I trust you." 

The atmosphere between you shifted, charged with a newfound closeness and vulnerability. It was as if an unspoken understanding passed between your souls, fueling the desire for a deeper connection. In that very second, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you standing there, hearts entwined. With the tension of unspoken words lingering in the air, you couldn't resist the magnetic pull drawing you closer to him.

So leaning in, you pressed your lips onto his soft ones — not too gently and not too forcefully, but just right. You caught sight of his eyes widening in surprise and his body remained still, but you mustered up the last bit of courage to close your eyes and hope for the best. When you felt the feathering of his eyelashes brush against your lids, you knew he, too, had his eyes closed. Then he leaned in ever so slightly, and his hands reached up to cup your uninjured cheek and the other behind your head.

Your heart pounded so loudly and harshly that you didn't think your chest could handle it, your stomach fluttered and churned with a mess of emotions that you didn't know if they'd ever go away, and your mind flooded with thousands of unanswered questions that you thought you might faint again anytime soon. But then you pulled away, your lips and his seemingly too reluctant for the loss of contact as they attempted to remain connected until the very last second, and your eyes fluttered open to the world which had frozen still; it had been a short kiss, that's for sure, but it was one that you'd remember for years to come.

"You do something to me that I can't explain," he whispered against your lips before he retrained. 

"You do the same to me," you whispered back, "but I think I can explain."

"What is it?"

"I see you," you breathed, leaning up to kiss him again.

He backed away to put some distance between you and you raised an eye questioningly.

"If I kiss you again – and believe me, every cell in my body wants to," With a nervous laugh, he scratched the back of his neck before his lustful gaze turned back to you and you physically felt the  excited shimmyflies in your stomach threatening to break out, "I just know, I won't be able to stop."

"Then don't."

"Oh, sweets, you love to make it hard for me, don't you?"

An inappropriate thought crossed your mind at that but you chose not to say it out loud. You didn't have to, because Neteyam's smirk looked like he knew exactly what was going through your head.

"C'mere, we need to patch you up first, and then—"

"Then we'll go to our place?" you asked excitedly.

"After I inspect you properly and decide that you don't need to see Tsahìk which I'm not so sure of yet – yes, then we could go to our place, and watch the stars or—"

"Why don't you properly inspect me at our place?" you interrupted him with a seemingly innocent look. He licked his lower lip in amusement, shaking his head.

"You're something."

"Your something," you corrected.

He looked at you in awe, as if you are the most precious thing he had ever seen. "My something," he agreed chuckling to himself and pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "Now hold still so I can clean your wounds." 

thank you all for reading ♥︎ I hope you enjoyed this piece of writing. looking forward to your comments and feedback 💕 (p.s. for anyone wondering about the other boys, i imagined ao'nung's "bully" friends nash'vi, koro, and ongu to sit with them)

[babybatss-blog]

Hii, I'm Brazilian, so I'm sorry for this shitty writing

can you write something with SDV Sam? I rarely see fanfics with him and I wanted a creative boost to imagine what his married life with the farmer would be like (with all the scenes, even some spicy ones 😉)

WITH YOU

(Stardew) sam x reader, 1400 words

a/n: since you left it pretty vague I tried to make this not too plot heavy, instead it’s a simple drabble on marriage with out fav bachelor! I hope this is what you were wanted lovely x

cw: proposal with a ring instead of mermaid pendant, marriage, slight out of characterness (which makes sense trust me), mentions of adult activities but nothing explicit, slight swearing, kissing and making out. Talk of babies at the end.

How he managed it, you’ll never know. For a man so often oblivious and clumsy, he pulled of the proposal of your dreams.

It was 11pm on a Friday, and after Sam randomly disappeared from the bar under the guise of a full bladder you thought something was off. Abigail and Sebastian were oddly giggly, the other patrons far too watchful of you and Sam was taking way too much time than he should be. Eventually you got up, walking to the bathroom to only find Alex. “Oh, he left.” He simply stated, a matter of fact tone that lazily disguised a strange excitement. “He went to the beach.”

You walk down to the beach, muttering to yourself about what he could possibly be doing. He didn’t have much to drink so this wasn’t some dumb wandering, and he seemed relatively happy earlier so it couldn’t be that something upset him. Come to think of it though, he did appear overly fidgety, like a man with something stressful on his mind.

As you near the beach, shimmering lights start to appear. At first they remind you of Zuzu city, but once you see the man standing in the middle of them, you know that you are actually home. Your home stands within the candles, a grin on his face as you realise: this is it. The day you have dreamed for since you were a child, wishing you could have. It doesn’t take a very long nervous speech from Sam to bring you both to tears, choking out repeated agreements between lovesick kisses and hugs. The next couple of months are spent in a bliss, no matter how stressful. It turns out that Sam was contemplating the day of your marriage just as much as you were, so the collaboration of the wedding went by as a breeze.

What colour is the aisle? Blue. What type of bouquet do you have? Wild grass and Dandelions. What is served at the reception? A mix of pizza pockets and joja cola (despite how unprofessional it may be, this had to be done.)

And the honeymoon phase never ended. It may be because you never actually got to go on a honeymoon, but the two of you spent everyday in a comfortable paradise, going about your daily tasks and enjoying each other’s comfortable company. “Do you think you could teach me how to plant crops?” He asks out of the blue, when the two of you were cuddled up on the couch watching another horrible sitcom. Surprisingly, Sam has managed to mellow out in his locked down lifestyle, swapping his late-night escapades for meaningless conversations and the sound of heavy metal to the rain on a drowsy afternoon. You snort, shocked by his change in attitude. The Sam you knew, so boisterous and uncontrollable has been replaced with a lovesick old pup, preferring spending time with his partner over risking his life.

“You? Mr hay fever? No way!”

But less than a week later it happened, and he was collapsed in the grass, sweaty and pouty. “Who knew gardening would be so hard?!” He whined, throwing his head back like a toddler who was told they couldn’t have ice cream. You laugh, walking over and holding his chin in your hand, towering over his weak frame. Your gloves get dirt on his face, but neither of you care because his jeans have been ripped up, hair frizzy, and he even managed to cut himself with a shovel, however impossible that may seem.

“I warned you. But you insisted that you would be fine, dumbass.” “You should have forced me not too.” “I know beautiful boy. I’m sorry.” You croon, crouching down to his level. But all prior anger dissolves within him at the look in your eyes, leaning forward for a deep kiss. Despite his grown-up demeanour, the two of you still love like teenagers, hungry for each other’s touch and fragile after every little look. His tongue lurches into your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny like it’s the first time as you groan in pleasure at his unadulterated lust. You would never admit what happened next.

It's not even three months into the marriage now, and Sam wakes up to find you already up, as per usual. You stand at the window with a cup of tea in your hand, and he can smell the mouthwatering pancakes you made on the table. How he got lucky enough to have you, he’ll never know. “Good morning sexy” he teases, slinging his arms around your shoulder and looking out the window with you towards your hard work. That’s one thing he’s always admired from you… Your insane amount of dedication and resilience. When you inherited the farm, it was a battered mess, and after school he would go there with Abigail and Sebastian, always returning home with blackberry cuts and twigs in their hair. But now it is a utopia, alight with all types of plants, animals, and decorations. Plus, you managed to make an insane profit out of the whole ordeal, turning your struggle to pay the bills into shouting everyone at the saloon on someone’s birthday to a drink and a hot meal. “Have a good sleep?” You ask, looking up at him with an adoring smile. “Course, you know me.” Scoffing, you reply with a shaking head “like a baby.”

And honestly, it’s true. If Sam has one talent, it’s his ability to fall asleep in a split second. The moment the lights are off he’s obnoxiously snoring, often crushing you with his dead weight. If he was to be asked why, he would say it’s because of you. Just as much as you view him as your home, he also sees you as his. A safe haven, someone he knows will take care of him and always be there for him, no matter what.

“Like a baby.” He repeats, looking out the window with a strange, squinting expression. It confuses you, but you don’t push. After all, he just woke up. It’s not uncommon for him to struggle with opening his eyes or being a functioning human being in the morning, he’s like a bear out of hibernation. But eventually he lets you into his thoughts anyways. “Actually, I’ve been thinking… How would you feel about trying for baby. I know we are still pretty early into this whole marriage thing, but it just feels right. I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb.”

For the first time in a long while Sam seems properly nervous, rambling his words and shuffling about. It’s nice to see that side of him, and truthfully you feel like you were at the start of the relationship too. Happy. Giddy. Excited. “Seriously?! Sam, I thought you said you wanted to take your time with that part of our life??” You place the mug down and turn to him, furrowing your brow. This unintentionally makes him panic, backing up on his words regretfully. “No, no I’m still happy for that. Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I know I wanted to take my time. Sorry.” Your heart melts, looking at your husbands worried face. Shouldn’t he know you would never judge? You peck his cheek, holding both his hands with a tender smile. “Don’t be sorry. I’d love that.” In a split second he lifts you up into his arms, kissing your face in a variety of places as you laugh.

“Baby baby baby!” he chants, jumping up and down. Soon he practically launches you onto the bed, lying on top of you and further peppering you with kisses, that uncomfortable stitch in your side forming from your pure laughter and ecstasy. It’s safe to say the next couple of weeks are spent tirelessly trying, in between sessions of rants about how great your little family is going to be.

[cocoetoile]

Xavier, Diana and Heinrix hc stuffs because i can’t stop thinking about them

i have a lot of thoughts about their dynamic especially the question that was raised about if xc use seduction along with his thinly veiled threats and outright power play, what then? tl;dr version is something above. i like em toxic and angsty.

the game of push and pull is what will happen, xc is not a person who shy about his intentions, it’s clear to diana what he wants, what he’s willing to offer in return. the man said before that he didn’t know much about her because theodora hid her (one of the heirs she didn’t even consider to take the title) from him. now he knows what he’s dealing with, of course he will looks into her past and use her weaknesses against her. xc knows what to do and what to say, knows where it hurts and how to be the hands to heal, offering salvation with sweet promises.

it’s not hard for him to look through diana’s mask when he had reports about her from heinrix and from the interaction she had during her magnae accessio. he could have been here even before the ceremony started and not to mention his other acolytes too. she’s uncomfortable in the responsibilities and position thrusted upon her. she played her part well with how she carried herself and how she has been dealing with her title, but xc knows that he can easily pry that mask off of her. make her dance to his tunes whether she wanted to or not.

the conversation in her bedchamber had him exerting his power over her, the risk of of her entire protectorate if she decided to go against him, but he also offered her peace and protection, the promise of ‘she only has to do what he told her’, that there’s no need to carry her burdens on herself alone when she can just trust him and let him steers her the way he wants. something diana craves ever since she lost her personal guiding hand from her past, the guilts from her past that her uncontrollable power caused death of her allies and enemies alike, feeling of inadequacy and insecurity will go away if she let herself lose in him.

of course diana knows xavier is bad news. she’s already uncomfortable how he picked at heinrix’s wounds in front of her, trying to create rift between their relationship with his words and of course he knew what’s going on between her and heinrix. she hates how xc used it against her, hates that he has power over her and hates herself even more when tiny voice in her head told her she should just let him take control, to take an easy way out he offered. being rogue trader is when she got power that enough to make a change but the road to change is long and hard and sometimes she can’t continue being ‘the lord captain’ anymore. she felt alone even more. despite the bond she tried to form with heinrix that she believes in there’s still trust issues between them (and it’s worse with the psychological and physical torture she endured after bdsm city), she swayed by the old man empty promises not more than once and will push him away just to come back to him for more false assurances.

heinrix is caught in this messy situation (that’s not even love triangle because diana or xavier don’t have kind of feelings for each other) because his heart decided he cared for the girl who showed him human decency and unintentionally saved his soul. he values the connection between him and diana, being the broken mess that she is she still try her best to be there for him despite on the verge of collapsing every day herself. she’s willing to learn about him, willing to listen and showers him with kindness and empathy but they both guarded some parts of their life and past to their hearts. he’s still loyal to his mentor, still knows that eventually his duty will come between them but he’s willing to risk everything. the fact that xavier stepping in and start playing with diana’s head like he did to him before made him feel even more powerless. in the end after he made up his mind about what he should do, he can only be the part of whatever game xavier is playing, or become the complicit in this game too.

[forestbunch]

Youth have no rights in the U.S. - and that puts them most at risk from the Far-Right.

TL;DR: Kids can be legally tortured in the U.S. or forced out of their homes to escape this (which puts them at direct risk of sex trafficking, LGBT youth are one of the most trafficked groups for this exact reason) so protect queer and trans youth. If a minor asks you to use different pronouns than their parents use for them or expresses a crush on a kid of the same gender, no they didn’t or if they did it was a joke. If you’re directly told by a minor they are queer or trans in a forced outting state, you didn’t understand what they were talking about, you’re just an old person who doesn’t understand the youths’ slang. But make sure you do inform that minor about the law before they tell anyone else and tell them you’re there for them if they need someone. Also, be aware youth aren’t the only ones at risk. Adults can now be discriminated against in housing, employment, etc. and hate crimes including cyber-crimes are rising so if you have social media under your legal name or with your face on it, going private on those is something to consider if you’re higher risk.

The treatment of queer and trans youth highlights the underlying childism in our society. Before the age of 18, people are viewed as property rather than people. They are the only group that are legally allowed to be intentionally physically hurt by someone else for reasons other than self-defense, and they have no legal recourse to fight back or escape this unless another person over 18 deems their suffering to be “too far” (they don’t get to decide for themselves as the sufferer). There is a multi-billion dollar industry to kidnap, incarcerate, and psychologically, and often also physically, torture youth at the behest of their parents or guardians. Anyone else can only be incarcerated against their will if they commit a crime or are deemed medically to be a danger to themselves or others, but youth can be sentenced with the unilateral power of one person.

And these kids have even less freedoms and oversights for their safety than prisoners do and far less than patients in actual psychiatric facilities do. Prisoners are (generally) allowed to contact their loved ones and the outside world at will or at least regularly and can report abuse and have an outside person look into it. People in psychiatric hospitals are the same and the people overseeing them are accountable to licensing boards, are all mandated reporters, etc. Kids in Troubled Teen Industry facilities don’t even have any of that recourse, the people incarcerating them are accountable to no one and they have no uncontrolled contact to the outside world. (No, I’m not saying prisons or psychiatric facilities are perfect and abuse free, I’m just highlighting how much worse youth are treated and how much they have literally no rights, not even the bare minimum ones the least free people in our society have, if their parent decides they don’t).

And a large part of why we have these problems because Far-Right Fundamentalist Christian Extremists have been systematically infiltrating our government (locally to federally) and undermining the rule of the majority for decades behind the scenes. We are finally seeing it and fighting back. They’ve been lowering statutes of limitations on child sexual abuse, lowering protections for children, etc. “Protect the children” has always meant “protect our property rights to isolate, indoctrinate, and torture our children with no interference”. Do you know what The Convention On The Rights Of The Child is? You probably don’t but it’s the most widely and quickly ratified international treaty in the world, even more than The Geneva Convention. It lays out children’s fundamental rights to safety, education, access to resources, treated with dignity, all that. And we were going to sign it, but Far-Right Christian Fundamentalist groups including “Focus On The Family” lobbied hard against it. And the main reason they cited was their “religious freedom” to beat children… Yeah, it’s disgusting. They literally admitted they are a child abuse cult. Also, many of those Troubled Teen Industry facilities are run by Mormons and other fundie cults, especially in Utah.

And now they are targeting LGBTQIA+ youth even more publicly than they have been. This is terrifying because it’s already established in the U.S. that minors can be forced into incarceration and torture conditions with no recourse. Conversion “Therapy” is condemned as a debunked non-science and as torture by every credible human rights, psychological, and medical association in the world. And, yet, these people are fighting for youth to be forcibly taken to these facilities and when that happens, even if they escape the cops will bring them back because they don’t have the human right to freedom. They don’t even have the human right to avoid torture. We are seeing laws to make this happen, to keep or reinstate conversion therapy and to forcibly out queer youth to their parents regardless of their safety because they aren’t seen as having a right to privacy, their parent is the one with the right to know what their property is saying, feeling, and doing. These kids could not only be sent to be tortured or kicked out to be sex trafficked, some could be murdered in honor or hate killings. So, if you know a kid is queer or trans, no you fucking don’t and no one can prove you do (make sure they can’t).

[lfcgirlie866]

You Called ~ JB TAA

Hi! I'm so nervous to post this ahhh. It's probably awful, but hopefully you guys like it! I should also warn you that it's most likely too overdramatic and unrealistic but I guess that's why it's fanfiction, right? That, and I like writing angst apparently...

Summary: Jude is feeling down about everything that's been going on with his team lately, and there's only one person he wants to see

Pairing: jude bellingham × trent alexander-arnold (or it could just be them as platonic besties/brother vibes. It's open to your interpretation ☺️)

He shouldn't be doing this.

He really, really should not be doing this. But he is. For him.

Trent should be at home, asleep, recovering from the game last night but instead he's on a private jet heading towards Madrid at 1 in the morning. It's the one city he definitely should not be seen in right now, and he has no idea what will happen if the media spots him there. He's risking everything; his contract with Liverpool, his vice-captaincy... all of it. But he's doing it.

For him. For Jude.

Because Jude has never been the type of person to let things get to him for too long. He's too mature for that. Usually, the media's chatter about his performances is just annoying background noise that he can drown out with the help of his family or friends. He's the type of player who loves the game, loves to play no matter what. If you give him a challenge then he'll take it, and despite what people think, he's not in it for the glory. He doesn't need to be the 'golden boy' all the time. Jude just loves to play.

So when he called Trent a few hours ago, his voice shaky and devoid of anything good, Trent knew that something wasn't right. At all.

He'd watched Jude's recent games, or as much of them as he could fit in around his own demanding schedule of fixtures and training, so he'd seen the way Jude was being run into the ground every game. He'd watched one of his favourite people in this world give everything he had and more, but with nothing back in return. Trent knows better than anyone just how quick the media and 'fans' can turn on you after a bad performance, but Jude didn't deserve this.

Trents knee bounces up and down uncontrollably as he sits and watches the little plane graphic on one of the screens inch closer and closer to its destination. Each minute seems to feel like ten, and every single one of them is a minute too long. He's never wanted the ability to teleport more than he does now.

The haunting sound of Jude's hollow voice echoes around in his mind, scaring him in a way he didn't know was possible. In all of their defeats, even the huge ones, Trent has never heard Jude sound so lost. It had almost felt like even the younger man's underlying love of the game had been diminished, too.

This need Trent has to see Jude, to protect him, to soothe away the hurt... it's overwhelming. And it's not going to go anywhere until he's there with him.

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

Jude's shoulder was in agony, his ankle not faring much better either, and all he could manage to do about it was lay there on the couch, staring at the ceiling for hours on end. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't even be bothered to get up and take some painkillers.

Maybe he liked the pain a little too much. Maybe it quietened his mind just enough for him not to drown in his thoughts. Maybe it stopped him from replaying his games over and over again in his head, berating himself each time for all the mistakes he'd made.

Or maybe he's a liar. Maybe he just wanted to punish himself even more.

The large house was silent around him, shrouded in darkness now that he was here alone. He'd thought that was what he wanted. That's why he told his mum to go back to England to visit his dad and Jobe. She hadn't wanted to leave him, especially not when she knew he wasn't doing very well, but he'd ended up practically forcing her to go by booking her flight for her.

In his defence, all he'd wanted was some space to breathe. Some time alone to get himself together. So why did it feel like all the air in the house had disappeared?

His family are usually his saving graces. They keep his feet on the ground and support him through everything. They're his safe space in this world. Jobe especially can always seem to put Jude at ease and lift any weight from his shoulders. But Jobe was doing incredible at Sunderland this season and Jude didn't want to zap any of the focus away from him. His brother deserved all the glory. He was on a high, and Jude couldn't risk pulling him down from it with his own problems. So he'd called the only other person who felt like home to him.

Trent.

It was selfish, he knew that. His best friend had more than enough going on without him adding to it, but even just hearing his voice down the phone had brought some relief. That scouse accent that grates on most people's nerves was like a soothing balm to Jude. He didn't know why. Maybe because it was so familiar at this point. Maybe because it reminded him of all the good times they'd spent together over the years. Maybe it reminded him of how incredible it felt when they connected on the pitch. Or maybe he just loved the person behind the voice.

If he was being really honest with himself, Jude wanted Trent here with him. Their whole 'we ain't inseparable' spiel was mocking him right now, but that was one thing he definitely did not care about at this point. So what if they liked to be around each other? So what if they were each other's support systems? So. fucking. what.

He'd seen all the comments about them during the international breaks, saying the two of them were 'like a married couple' or that they were 'so touchy-feely'. He found them all hilarious, to be honest, and Jude finds himself wishing he was there at an England camp right now. At least then he'd have his 'emotional support scouser' by his side.

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

Open the door

Trent texts him as he stands by the gate outside Jude's house, his hood pulled up to stay as hidden as possible even though the street is seemingly empty.

What are you on about?

Comes his reply a few minutes later. Trent can't help but smile as he types out his next message.

Get off your lazy arse and come see lad

It's not long before the gate buzzes and unlocks, Trent slipping into the front yard quickly, closing the exterior gate behind him and shutting the rest of the world out with it.

And then Jude is there.

He's standing in the doorway of the house, looking more tired than Trent has ever seen him. Sadder, too. His eyes are wide, a slight frown creasing his brow as if he can't quite believe what he's seeing in front of him.

"You came?"

He questions in pure disbelief, and it rattles Trent in a way he isn't quite comfortable with.

"You called."

And it was that simple. It would always be that simple.

Of course he came. Of. Fucking. Course.

Within seconds the distance between them has disappeared. Jude's hand wraps around Trent's wrist, practically dragging him inside the house. The younger boy slams the door closed with his free hand, the other one remaining tightly gripping Trent's wrist, his fingers digging into the flesh there like he's trying to tether himself back to reality.

"Am I dreaming?" Jude whispers, his voice cracking as if he's about to fall apart any second now.

The sound steals Trent's own breath away. That, coupled with the obvious demons hiding behind Jude's eyes, is enough for Trent to feel like he's falling apart himself. He sends a prayer out to whoever is listening, asking them to take all of Jude's pain and give it to him. He'll bear it for him, do anything just to get the boy in front of him to smile again.

"Nah, 'm real." He murmurs.

And then Jude's in his arms, burying his face in Trent's neck as he clings to him desperately. The relief is instant, Trent's familiar scent and feel wrapping around him comfortingly.

Now, finally, Jude can breathe properly again.

[theoceanoasis]

Hope you are better

You could continue the au where Roddy is a mer that his owners want him to have babies but they don't want it to be with a couple so Roddy stays beautiful and they can show him off.

It could be something like Roddy in the absence of his mate and the depression that caused him to start losing his colors because he got sick from loneliness and his owners first try to get him healed, but when he doesn't get better they throw him away. He should be rescued by an aquarium that has a sanctuary of mers that were in captivity. He may find friends there to help him, but whoever saved him (perhaps Ratchet or Perceptor) may look for his mate because he could inevitably die if he remains separated from Soundwave.

I love the drama and You have de touch to write it <3

His owners banged on the glass and he moaned feeling a headache form. His whole body hurt as he laid there wrapping his tail around himself.

He was exhausted and couldn't do anything except sleep. Outside his tank he could hear his master's talking obviously unhappy.

They couldn't shock him because they didn't want to risk the pups he was carrying. The thought made him unbearably sad and he felt like crying because he didn't have a mate.

He was all alone and he didn't want to be alone anymore he wanted his mate. He sobbed uncontrollably calling out for someone who couldn't answer.

Pharma ended up being called and roughly looked him over. Even though he was carrying pups he'd lost weight from not eating. His once vibrant colors were slowly turning gray as he refused to take care of himself. Unable to live without his mate.

Mers swam in pods because they were social creatures. When they mated with someone it was for life and if something happens to their mate they oftentimes don't survive.

Pharma looked irritated as he checked him over and then told his mater's the news. Neither of them looked happy and he found himself listening in.

The facility that was keeping his mate had been seized. The mers had been taken and Pharma couldn't get him.

When he heard this he sobbed and refused to do anything just wanting to die. He didn't care anymore and was tired of living. All he wanted was his mate and now he'd never get him.

His master's were angry by this change and no amount of banging on the glass or threatening could make him do anything.

They were disgusted by how he looked. Instead of the pretty multicolored mer they used to have. They now had a scraggly looking mess who was an ugly gray color.

Whenever they saw him they sneered obviously unhappy with his appearance and wanting Pharma to do something.

The doctor of course informed them there was nothing he could do. Without his mate he was going to die and they might as well get rid of him.

His master's decided to do exactly that and ended up dumping him somewhere. It was a shady facility where the water was always dirty and the mers were starved. None of them said anything too exhausted and sick all of them looking about ready to die with their dull colors.

Then one day police came and the mers were transported to different facilities. He didn't care and just laid there not doing anything as he was loaded up. He was so exhausted and he just wanted to die.

He was introduced to a man named Ratchet who looked him over. Unlike with Pharma his checkup didn't hurt.

When Ratchet realized he was sparked he looked worried and decided to closely monitor him. The facility he was inside was a lot nicer and he had more freedom. The people who worked there treated all of them with respect and no one ever hurt him.

Even though life was better he continued to lay on the floor refusing to move. He barely ate only eating when Ratchet made him as he waited to die. He wanted his mate so badly and he continued crying out for him.

Ratchet and some of the others tried asking questions. All of them thought his mate was dead until he informed them that they'd never even met. He didn't even know his mates name and the only thing he had to remember him by was his pups and his smell.

Even after everything he was determined to remember that much. Just in case they ever had the chance to meet. Even though he knew it was unlikely.

The workers at the facility though seemed determined to help him find his mate something that gave him hope and made him try to live. Which made Ratchet happy.

He didn't know how long they'd been trying to find his mate but he knew his pups would be coming soon. His instincts were telling him to prepare even if it felt wrong not having his mate with him.

He should be helping him set up his nest and get everything ready for their pups. Instead he was having to do it alone and it filled him with sadness.

The staff who worked at the facility couldn't help him because they were busy getting ready for a transfer.

He was a dangerous mer who's last chance at survival was this facility, otherwise he would have to be put down. He couldn't return to the ocean after what's been done to him but he was too violent to keep at a facility. He had hurt numerous people and mers who'd gotten too close and after severely injuring someone at the last facility he was transferred here.

Finishing with his nest he found himself watching as a truck pulled up. He wasn't really paying attention and was just listening to the staff talk amongst each other in the hopes of helping him feel less alone.

The door opened and there was a shout of alarm as a mer crawled out. He looked pissed and his fangs snapped at anyone who came too close.

He watched as the mer looked around the facility and the two of them made optic contact. He froze unable to move as the two stared at each other.

His optics widened when he recognized the smell and he found himself crying out for his mate. The mer must have also realized something because he dragged himself over. Both of them were calling to each other and if it wasn't for his belly getting in the way. He would have jumped out of the tank he was inside.

Soundwave rushed forward ignoring the facilities staff as he climbed into the tank with him. He could hear people frantically talking but he didn't care.

The two of them wrapped their arms and tails around each other and he cried in his arms. The mer touched a gentle hand on his belly looking shocked and happy when he realized he was sparked.

He cuddled against him never wanting to separate from him again.

"My names Hot Rod."

"Soundwave."

His mate pulled him closer and bit down on his neck to claim him. He shivered from the pain and then moaned when warmth flooded his body.

Soundwave's spike came out and he pressed it into his leaking slit causing him to gasp. He felt him slide all the way inside and it felt like coming home.

The two of them fragged for hours and only stopped when Soundwave ended up inducing labor.

[iwanty0uu]

“𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑁𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟“~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · .

pt4…

“BITCH STOP BEING PUSSY AND GET ON THE FUCKING ROLLER COASTER SASH.”

Your voice startled the ticket man at coney island who reluctantly pulled his hand back from the hole in the booth connecting him to the outside world. “FINE “ She said grabbing the man’s hand out of the small hole, ripping the tickets out of his hand, quickly shuffling in your purse for his cash you smiled apologetically and skipped over to Sasha. “Hoe you get so angry when you scared you can hold my hand baby” you teased as she tightened the laces on her shoes and purse. “ Nah i’m not scared. Momma ain’t raise no bitch” her voice cracked which had you in tears. Time flew by and it was already your turn on the amusement park’s ride. The air was hot and muggy, the thick summer heat hung over the whole park, you knew your edges would sweat out so you braided your hair into beaded cain rows the night before.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your dark blue biker shorts reacher a little above you’re knee to prevent your thighs sticking to the chair of the rides, the simple white tank top you had on showed a small but modest amount of cleavage and your small juicy couture backpack rested in front of you. Couldn’t risk it getting snatched up, but other than that, your whole outfit was made for outdoor activities. It had been nine months since you had met Connie and it had been the most interesting nine months that you have had in a while. Connie was known by everyone, your parents loved him, since your aunts were younger and closer to you, they all told you to get with him before someone “thief your man”, which always made you laugh, but it was your intention. He was too hood to leave unsupervised

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Of course you liked him but you wanted to make sure that you weren’t thinkin with your clit. And actually, it felt like meeting him was fate. Your parents met him accidentally, your Father was an occasional stoner, and his weed-guy’s nephew so happened to be Connie, and thats when you learned he was a hustler which didn’t bother you. Money is money and a job is a job.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The line to the ‘Slingshot’ ride was short, and you warned your homegirl Sasha that you would kill her if she ran off the ride and left you on there alone. The workers strapped you in securely while Sasha threatened them. “I swear if one of you fuckers forget a lock or some shit im suing you when i die.” Her pink acrylic waved in the faced of the workers as they laughed. “Sash stop talking to him like that before he kill us on purpose” You cackled next to her as the camera in-front of you both began to record.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You heard laughter from the crew behind you, “Are you ready?” asked a man in a Luna Park uniform shirt, “Wait I didn’t clip one of yall in I think it’s the Brunette-“ He finished “ BITCH WH-“ Sasha couldn’t get her words out because the sling shot literally knocked the wind out of her,arms flailing in the air, her hair slipping out of its pony tail now becoming a thick brown mess. She suddenly awoke screaming and panicked, holding onto your brown arm, nails digging into your skin. If she couldn’t tell, you were having an episode of your own. “GET ME THE FUCK OFF THIS SHIT” you cried.. literally, tears streaming down your face, you felt the breath so suddenly leave your lungs causing you to gasp for air, which was infinite considering the height you two currently desperate to come down from.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The ball like ride began to bounce slowly, easing it’s way to the ground. Sasha regained her full consciousness and laughed uncontrollably, “ NAHH THAT WAS SO FUN “ looking over her shoulder, she heard sobbing “IwantMyMommaaa” you huffed pouting, slobber flying out of your mouth and snot out of your nostrils. You were quickly released off the ride as the line of people pointed and stared at your dramatics. “Now look who FUCKIN CRYING” Sasha giggled, retrieving the video from the front desk. You kneeled on the floor, squatting while holding your knees. “Bumper Carts” you said as you got yourself together, slowly standing. “but first i want to *sniffle* clean myself up”, trying to act casual was out of the question now, but it didn’t matter because you still enjoyed yourself. “Girl i don’t wanna hear shit you fainted as soon as we went up”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The night was young and lively, Jean, Eren, Armin ,Ony and Mikasa went home in Eren’s car since they all lived in the same dorm alliance. You went back with Connie who drove, hanging his hand out the window while his long tatted fingers loosely held a blunt. Serenity and Sasha were in the back seat sleeping, and you sat in the front seat like the passenger princess you were. You got chilly with the windows down so Connie offered you his hoodie. Feet resting on dash, converse on the floor, Connie broke the almost silent car ride,lowering Summer Walker’s ‘Body’ so you could hear him. “ Y/n ima drop the girls home, i got sum planned for us.. just you n me, so pack a spendin-da-night back for like two days or so. “Two days ? Boyyy you tryna get fucked? “ you joked “ I’ll pack for three”.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

An unseen smile grew on his face, and it was because Connie had only touched you one time. Ever. He never slept with you, never fingered you, only ever kissed you, and part of it was his fault. He did really want to be with you but often times his ex’s would come back in his life trying to compete with you, and it turned you off hella, but he did end up proving that he was serious about you ,and wanted a future with you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

About thirty minutes passed and you were now headed up to Connie’s apartment. It was always clean, so full but so empty, he spent most of his time in your dorm and only got the apartment to make his deals easier, and everyone would link up there for kickbacks. The keys jingled as they were disgarded on the counter, lights off, room dimly lit by Connie’s phone light. For some reason, he wouldn’t let you turn on the actual lights. “Boy you just dragged my ass into a wall both of us cant fit through your door frame” you said laughing at your own comment. You weren’t sure of the surprise but knowing Connie, you knew it was gonna be adorable.

+*:ꔫ:*﹤ ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

[awarnin]

hii could you write a declan mckenna imagine??

literally anything you want lmao

(maybe friends to lovers?)

Take It Slow | DECLAN MCKENNA X FEM! READER

warning: they never kiss???? lmao does that count??? help

author's note: my longest one shot yet!! I hope you like it, it took me a long time to make this request because I didn't have enough inspiration to do it at the time, but POOF! it arrived. Thank you for your request, sweetheart, lmk your opinion:)

wordcount: 5.4k

.

Declan let out a long sigh as he tossed his keys onto the small table by the front door. It had been a long day at the studio, and he was more than ready to unwind. As he shuffled toward the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge, he noticed a note stuck to the freezer door, written in the messy handwriting of his housemate:

"Out with some friends tonight. Don't wait up! :)"

Declan smiled to himself, glad that you were out enjoying yourself. Not that he minded the quiet; after the chaos of the studio, the calm was a welcome change of pace.

Popping open the beer, Declan grabbed his phone and wallet from the counter and headed to the back porch. The spring night was mild, with a soft breeze stirring the new leaves on the trees. He scrolled aimlessly through social media as he drank, letting the peacefulness of the neighborhood seep into his bones.

It was in that moment of peace that Declan's mind inevitably drifted to thoughts of you, as it had been lately. His housemate and best friend for five years. In recent months, Declan had begun to see you in a new light, noticing little details that had never caught his attention before: the way you nose crinkled when you laughed or the gestures you made with your hands while explaining something.

He knew these thoughts were dangerous territory; your friendship was too important to risk over uncontrolled feelings. Still, Declan found himself daydreaming more and more about what could happen if you took that next step beyond friendship. He wondered if her smile would be just as soft and bright pressed against his lips as it was when you smiled at him from across the room.

Shaking his head with a resigned chuckle, Declan took another long sip of beer. Fantasizing about his housemate and friend was a road best left untraveled. Any fleeting attraction he felt would fade over time, as crushes do, and their easy comfort would remain.

At least, that's what he told himself. But the truth was, in the past few months, that warmth in his chest every time you walked into a room had only grown more persistent instead of fading. He was playing a dangerous game, ignoring these feelings for the sake of keeping things simple between you. And he wondered if maybe, just maybe, you felt it too beneath the surface of their familiar routines.

Finishing his beer with a sigh, Declan stood up to head back inside for the night. As he passed by the living room window, a movement in the side yard caught his eye. Squinting through the dimming twilight, he spotted a lone figure tossing something for a small, excited bundle of fur.

"Speak of the devil" Declan thought with a private smile. Grabbing his keys once again, he slipped outside and casually walked toward the old tree where you were playing with the neighbor's dog.

"Hey," he greeted softly as he approached. Her bright smile in response warmed him inside.

"Hey. Just keeping Max entertained while Claudia finishes her shift." You tossed the tennis ball once more as the dog eagerly chased after it. Straightening up from where you had been crouching, your smile turned questioning. "Want some company? I could use a break."

Declan smiled back easily, gesturing toward the house. "The door's open. I'll put the kettle on."

Later, as you sat together on the porch swing, cups of tea in hand, Declan found himself relaxing into their familiar rhythm. Your presence beside him was as comforting as ever. You chatted about nothing in particular as the spring night deepened around you, and the neighbor's dog had long since been called home.

And yet, there was something different in the air between you, a subtle shift that made Declan newly aware of every accidental brush of your arms or knees. He glanced over at you and found you gazing at the darkening lawn, your profile softly illuminated by the porch light, and once again, he wondered if you felt it too. That nagging suggestion that your comfortable familiarity could blossom into something deeper.

Before he realized what he was doing, Declan broke the serene silence. "Have you ever wondered..." He trailed off as you turned your inquisitive eyes toward him. How to continue without ruining this delicate thing growing between you?

Taking a deep breath, Declan pressed on gently. "If we took that next step, what it would be like. You and me." Your silence was thoughtful rather than surprised, as if you too had considered this inevitable question. You smiled sadly. "I know it's complicated. Our friendship means everything. I just had to ask, I guess."

For a long moment, you said nothing, once again looking out at the shadowy garden. Then, hesitantly, you said, "I've wondered too. What we have... it's important. But I think..." You turned then, meeting his eyes meaningfully. "What if we tried? Just to see."

Declan's heart swelled at the sight of the shy hope in your smile, in the longing that mirrored his own. Slowly, giving you time to change you mind, he reached for your hand that rested on the swing between you. Your fingers intertwined, warm and certain.

"We take it slow," Declan murmured. "See where this goes before making any big decisions. If it feels right, we'll keep going. And if not..."

"We stay as we are. Best friends, always." You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "No matter what."

Declan mirrored your soft smile, feeling lighter than he had in a long time, just holding your hand in the quiet of the porch. Whatever happened, he knew that as long as you stayed by his side, he would be okay.

.

[nomoreusername]

Defender

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:After the betrayal with Aris and Teresa, you surprise everyone with what you say about it.

I didn't have a fun time betraying Thomas. I didn't want to hurt him, to hurt anyone. I didn't want to kiss Teresa or lock him in a cave.

I never wanted to do anything bad.

WICKED though, had other things to care about than what I wanted, but to be fair, when didn't they?

So yeah. I expected the backlash from everyone, even after the explanation. I mean they already didn't exactly trust me, and some of them (Minho) hadn't been so subtle about it.

Still, we had to retell the story after explaining it to a groggy, confused, injured, upset Thomas. Fun.

But alas, we didn't have a choice. We told the story from the beginning (as far as anyone needs to know) and awkwardly stood there. Well, Teresa and I. Thomas was sitting down with a halfhearted glare on his face. So much for forgiving us.

For around a minute after that everyone let Minho go off. That wasn't unexpected either.

He wasn't what I was worried about though.

Y/N.

I was focused on her, watching her reaction when we explained the kiss while hoping she knew we had to. I need my girl to know I only wanted her, only ever had eyes for her, even if I had to pretend that I didn't.

She didn't react at all though, which was worse than anything. The only thing that changed was a split second of her eyes going wide before she just nodded along to the story.

As Minho was spouting insults or lecturing or giving a speech on why we suck, that look changed though as she rubbed her forehead and took a breath.

“Minho, cut the klunk,”She spoke up, her tone walking the tightrope between a sigh and harsh demand.

“Excuse me?”He asked, looking back at her.

“Cut the klunk. What did you want them to do? Let Thomas be killed by WICKED? It's better that he's hurt than dead,”She shrugged.

“Do you not see him-”

“I do, because he isn't dead. Something he would be if they didn't do what they did. They did what they had to, and I’m not even sure you would be able to do that,”She defended, at the same time making us just gawk at her.

“Excuse me?”He scoffed.

“I don't think that you would be capable of hurting and maybe losing someone you care about to save them. I think you would be too stubborn to think it through,”She clarified.

“What if he did that to you?”He snapped.

“I’d be glad my boyfriend has enough common sense not to risk my death? I’d rather be hurt than dead,”She shrugged.

“Did you miss the kissing Teresa part? How are you not angry about that?”

“Oh no. My boyfriend made sure someone didn't die? However could he not risk Thomas’s life like that?”She deadpanned.

“Why don't you care about Thomas?”

“I kind of do. That's why I’m just happy he's not six feet under or whining that he had to see a little kissy kissy and get some blood on him. I mean seriously? If you want me to get mad at them for helping you're out of your shucking mind. If you're mad at them for helping you're also out of your shucking mind,”She shrugged.

“I would find another way to save anyone,”He defended.

“And that is why whoever you were supposed to be protecting would be dead. You wouldn't be capable of doing what they did.”

“I can look out for my friends,”He scowled.

“Maybe, but are you capable of hurting them and trusting the bad guys, resulting in you looking like one? Or would you put up too much of a fight?”She asked, standing up and putting her bag over her shoulder. “Can you walk, Thomas?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Are you breathing?”

“Yes, but-”

“Are you on the brink of death?”

“No, but-”

“Are you bleeding uncontrollably?”

“No, but-”

“Then, everything is fine. You can throw yourself another pity party about it when we're not at the risk of being attacked by Cranks. For now, everyone stop whining, and just be grateful you're alive because not everyone has that luxury,”She reminded us.

“But they-”

“Shut your trap, Minho,”She sighed, gesturing for everyone to get up. Following her, everyone did as they said. Stepping to the side, she let Minho lead again, choosing to stay in the very back. Lagging behind, I joined her.

“Aris,”She said in a sharp tone.

“Yeah?”I asked quietly.

“Whichever one of you hit him hit too close to the part of the brain that would kill him. While it was probably panicked, the jaw is a better option. It's not as close to the really important part,”She explained.

“Oh. I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever have to hit someone with a stick again?”I sort of asked.

“It's great for interrogations.”

“How do you know that?”I dared to ask.

“Don't worry about it, love,”She shrugged, squeezing my shoulder before still continuing to walk alongside me in total silence. With my mind completely quiet, I just looked at her, at her nonchalant behavior after doing something that was supposed to make her hate me. “What's up with you?”She questioned, meeting my gaze.

“Nothing. I just love you,”I answered.

“I love you too, pretty boy. I love you too. Even if people complain about you.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m kidding. Now let's keep lagging behind everyone so that I don't have to defend your sorry self again.”

“Y/N-”

“What? It's true.”

Shaking my head, I put my arm around my girl to keep her close.

To keep my flawless defender right by my side where she belonged.

[stephaniebrownslover]

★彡[!TICCIWORK HEADCANONS LIST [1/15]!]彡★

This would be so long because I was planning to write ar least 10 for each section and the first one became 17 so I decided split each part.

These parts will be include most of my TicciWork headcanons so it'll be long. I'll try to update whenever I can.

Be warned.

⌞Partners In Crime⌝

❝This, the tale of, reckless love❞

𓍯𓂃When they first met, it wasn't exactly love at first glance. They thought of each other as a threat to their sense of freedom to the point where they attempted to kill each other. Of course, none of them were able to achieve their mischievous goal.

𓍯𓂃Zero was watching them from the top of a tree, just like a vulture who was hungry for dead meat. But she did nothing to stop the heated fight since she was pretty sure that Clockwork would win. And turns out, she was right. That is when she decided to have a little chat with Clockwork but this is some another story.

𓍯𓂃Brian and Kate had to stop before someone had died. Not because they cared about either of them, but because Toby was losing this battle of death and life and they couldn't risk losing a proxy for some ridiculous reason.

𓍯𓂃Clockwork was winning, because Toby was very tired and injured after a huge mission when their road crossed, so it was a very unfair match. Even though both of them were physically hurt, Clockwork had less scars compared to Toby.

𓍯𓂃After their life-or-death fight was stopped with brutal force, Clockwork was very furious about it. She was swearing at everyone in that place and attacking whatever she was seeing like a wild beast. A beast who lost her everything overnight just to what crumbs remained from her previous life taken away, too.

𓍯𓂃Clockwork was more angry than usual because it was the night she killed her nightmare family and she was only searching for a place to stay the night in the forest.

𓍯𓂃Toby was already under the deadly strings of Slenderman for almost one month and this was his first alone patrol without his other puppets. He never met with an intruder while he was in his learning phase with others, so he didn't exactly know what to do like a vulnerable child. Except, he wasn't vulnerable, not at all.

𓍯𓂃People who acted like they valued him but didn't give a shit about his life told him to kill any suspicious person he saw. And a blood-covered teenage girl, indeed, seemed enough to attack.

𓍯𓂃He was already filled with uncontrollable rage because of the timing. His first alone patrol was after a cruel mission, and he wasn't longing for anything but some sweet sleep.

𓍯𓂃When the right time came, Toby stopped hiding behind the bushes like a prey and attacked Clockwork. She had already sensed that someone creepy was watching her, and that's why she was ready to put up a fight with her attacker. She would not go down without fighting all her might. She came to this moment with killing her soul and she would not let it be in vain.

𓍯𓂃Both of them tried to hurt each other without showing any kind of esitation, they didn't know each other at this point and there was no reason to be soft against a person who tried to steal their life from their scarred hand, again.

𓍯𓂃After this huge fight, Toby was immediately dragged back to Nurse Ann's infirmary and Clockwork was left alone to decay.

𓍯𓂃Oh how wrong they were. She would not die just because of some selfish animals. Since she didn't know they were nothing but pawns who had no control over their lives yet, she felt nothing but pure hatred towards them.

𓍯𓂃She waited until the time was really late and went into the closest town in order to get some antiseptic, bandage, and stitch. She refused to fade into the inviting warmness of death.

𓍯𓂃Clockwork swore to kill that boy she faced while putting on her stitches, gritting her teeth as she was trying to break them.

𓍯𓂃Toby vowed to himself that he would make sure this girl turned into a dead nothing, feeling a similar heartache despite his lack of feeling of pain.

𓍯𓂃Neither of them lost their lives that night. No, the strings of destiny had another plans for these two deformed and hurt souls.

𓍯𓂃Only if they knew.

𓍯𓂃Only if they knew how much they would mean to other, how they would complete their half so perfectly and defectively, maybe they wouldn't harm their missing part in life that unmercifully.

𓍯𓂃But this isn't the case. They hurt each other because no one had bothered to teach them better. They came to this point with spilling blood, both other people's and their own. Both had to fight for each breath they stole.

𓍯𓂃This is why they would understand each other precisely when they would stop letting their primitive life instinct control them, even if only for a second.

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 10

#10- The Sniffles

As quietly as he could, Robin cleared his throat for the umpteenth time that evening—though not quietly enough.

“Robin!” Batman hissed over the comms. “If you cannot maintain radio silence, we’re going to have to call this and lose another night of surveillance and—”

“Understood, B—going silent now, sir!” Robin shut him down even as he ran a hand across his noticeably warming forehead.

Yup.

Fuck his life. It was like he’d been waiting for a sign, and there it was.

With a little less caution than he should have for such a state of the art piece of equipment, Robin pulled the earpiece from his ear, shutting it off for the final time that night and tucked it into his utility belt. Batman wasn’t a total idiot after all, and could figure it out where he’d disappeared to if he really thought about it. “Good luck with your surveillance now, asshole,” he grumbled. Besides, Jason had literally told Batman that he was coming down with something before they’d even left the Batcave. He had tried to communicate the issue.

Batman just didn’t care.

Well, fuck it, and fuck Batman.

Robin wasn’t risking his ass because his location had been compromised by an uncontrollable sneeze. Robin was going to drag his pathetic ass home, take a hot shower, climb into his big, comfy bed, and not emerge from it until he got the all clear from the one adult who actually cared about him.

And if B had a problem with that, he could take it up with him. Alfie always had Jason’s back.

His cheeks grew more and more flushed with anger—or fever, if he really thought about it—as he flew a little slower than usual across the rooftops. Imaginary conversations ran like a loop in  his head, each one a slight variation of the previous, but all of them basically having B beg Jason for forgiveness for being so callous, inconsiderate, mean, insensitive, clueless, cruel... fucked up.

Jason laughed to himself.

Like that was ever going to happen.

His mind flashed back to all of the counseling sessions with Dinah that Bruce had absolutely insisted upon. “Tell him what you need, Jason,” Dinah had said. “He may act like it, but Bruce is not a mind reader, Jason,” she’d said.

And Bruce wasn’t—but Bruce tried! He asked how Jason’s day at school was. He double-checked to see if Jason needed help with homework. Bruce, if Jason really thought about it, wasn’t the problem.

No. The problem was Batman.

Robin stewed on that as he made his way to the edge of Crime Alley, then slowed and stopped on an abandoned rooftop, needing to take a break. He’d sensed it was coming, and had hoped to at least assess the area, make sure that it was safe before he- he—too late. “-choo!”

“Bless you.”

Robin froze, but not before a batarang that he’d stolen from the armoury appeared in his hand, at least giving him a sense of security he wouldn’t have had otherwise. He adjusted his stance, balancing himself for whatever came next. This was Gotham after all. Robin then lowered his voice to call out into the darkness. “Who’s out there?”

No one replied.     

It didn’t shock him, of course. A surprise attack made complete sense if someone had been keeping a careful enough watch, especially with Batman so much closer to the Narrows and Robin here, alone. He scanned the shadows next to the fire escape where he was almost certain his mysterious stranger was hiding, “I know you’re there somewhere...” Robin paced. “Trust me, if step out now with your hands up, it’ll be better for everyone in the long run.”

From the left, a sniffle not too different from his own caught his attention.

Robin shifted his direction, just barely, then headed toward his quarry— wait. No. That didn’t sit right, if he thought about it, and Robin had a moment of clarity. Whoever this was hadn’t actually done anything to him... yet.

And had they sounded—young?

“Yeah, I should definitely be in bed.” Robin sighed to himself, then modified his game plan, drastically.

In less time than it took to blink, Robin retracted the batarang and made an effort to relax his posture. He let out a slow, calming breath, “Alright, let’s try that again. Okay, kid?” Robin called out. “I’m guessin’ it’s not a secret that I’m not on my A-game tonight and I overreacted.” His eyes continued to survey the darkness, “Wanna come out so we can introduce ourselves properly?”

The crunch of gravel pulled Robin’s attention away from his shadow long enough to notice the new player on the board.

“Robin? Who are you talking to?”

Shit.

Robin spun around to face Batman, the tension in his posture ramped right back up to an eleven. “What are you doing here?” Robin demanded.

“You didn’t answer when I asked for your status.” Batman approached slowly. “And I knew you were—” the man paused, realizing that he couldn’t say what he truly wanted to while out in the open like this, “—eager to shift your focus to other projects this evening. ”

The tone being used in this moment was one that Robin was definitely unaccustomed to, though Jason had heard it often enough, and it almost distracted him from the third person on the rooftop. He had to get his head back in the game. Batman was here, after all and it made sense for the less-than-one-hundred-percent Robin to take advantage of the extra hands. As stealthily as he could, Robin pulled his Batman sanctioned phone from his utility belt and typed out a rapid message, ‘not alone. not hostile? tracking,’ as he answered Batman verbally, “Of course. We both know Poison Ivy is makin’ plans, what with all the mess at Arkham last night...” It was a special skill to say one thing while typing another when you weren’t feeling well.

The cowl masked his initial confusion, but upon reading Robin’s text, Batman simply nodded, then pressed a button hidden by his temple.

Robin recognized the switch over to night vision mode.

Nice.

Robin approved.

Batman turned his head and paced slowly as he scanned the roof’s darkest corners, then stilled as he caught sight of something out of the ordinary. “Maybe we should both head back to the Batcave?” He shifted direction, “Analyze some of those samples,” and then leaned over to pick up what appeared to be a child’s Batman backpack and a—camera?

A gasp sounded from the back corner of the roof between the rusted out air conditioner unit and the roof’s edge, and nowhere near the fire escape, immediately catching the attention of both heroes.

“There!” Robin called out as a child-sized black-clad body bolted from its hiding spot and tried to make its way to the decrepit fire escape only feet away from where Batman stood.

And so it was for naught. “Gotcha,” Batman bent over and caught what looked to be an honest-to-goodness kid up under his arms and hoisted him up onto his hip with the found camera’s strap looped around his wrist.

Not that the little roof-goblin was cooperating. “Put me down!” the little boy hollered as he kicked and wriggled as he tried to free himself. “I won’t tell anyone! I promise! Please let me go!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Batman had shifted from his ‘I am the night’ persona to something a little more paternal for their young captive. “You’re okay, buddy. Just settle down.” He rocked a little and patted the boy’s back as he worked to calm him, taking only a second to switch back to standard vision settings on the visor.

Batman must have been doing it just right because all the fight drained from the boy, surprising them both.

And then the boy sniffed.

Robin stepped from where he’d been frozen in shock as everything had unfolded before him. “Aw, no, kid. You don’t gotta cry. You’re okay, really!” Robin soothed.

But this was the absolute wrong thing to say and the little boy tensed. “I’m not crying!” He denied as he dragged his hoodie sleeve across his dripping nose. “And I’m not a child!”

 “Alright, alright.” Robin put his hands up in surrender. “I hear ya.’ You’re not cryin’ and you’re not a child, but...” Robin took a closer look at the boy in Batman’s arms, “Holy shit! You’re Timothy Drake!”

“Robin!” Batman hissed, “Language!”

Robin checked himself immediately, but revelled in being right.

Timothy Drake, age eight, and definitely tiny enough to be mistake for younger, scowled as Batman shifted his hold to take a better look, “You are!” Batman paused, “Wait a minute...” he seemed to consider something for a moment, then removed his gauntlet. “Are you...?” he pressed the back of his bare hand to Timothy’s pale forehead. “Hn.”

Even little Timothy was captivated by the production. “What?” he asked in anticipation.

“You definitely have a fever, Timothy Drake.” Batman announced, leaving Timothy to deflate in his arms.

“Can you pleeeease call me Tim?” The boy whined, “And I could have told you that,” the boy replied, then seemed to sense that maybe he wasn’t in nearly as much trouble as he feared. “Um, but only a I’m only a bit sic, and my medicine is in my bag, so if that’s all, Mr. Batman, sir,” the boy wiggled a little, “can you please let me down, and I’ll just go home?”

Batman and Robin shared a loaded glance, coming to some sort of silent agreement.

Batman lowered Timothy to the ground, making sure he was steady where he was planted, but kept a gentle yet secure hold on his arm as he knelt before him, “I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Tim. You see, I’m trying to figure out why you would be out and about in Crime Alley in the middle of the night... and especially when you’re sick.” The vigilante made sure he was looking Timothy directly in the eye as he stated his obvious concerns. “It’s pretty clear to me that something’s happening here that Robin and I need to worry about.”

A strange look came across Tim’s face, and for a split second, Robin was sure that he was going to cry when, “ker-choo!” The kid sneezed into his elbow then, again, wiped his sleeve across his nose.

“Bless you.” Robin offered automatically, then promptly sneezed, too, a little less adorably.

“Bless you,” Batman and Tim echoed.  

And if that moment didn’t remind Jason of exactly how exhausted he, himself, was to get home and crawl into bed.

“Hey, B? It’s gettin’ a little late... or I guess early, and the kid is sick. Maybe we should call it for the night?”

“And how,” Batman inquired, “would you propose we do that when we still have our little,” he lifted the arm with the dangling camera, “photographer?” He looked back down at Tim. “Do I want to know what you’re taking pictures of?”

Tim squirmed under Batman’s gaze. “Uh—”

“C’mon, Batman. Give the kid a break—at least for now? We can sneak him home without his parents ever knowin’, then pick this up when Tim’s feeling a little better? It’s not like we don’t know where he lives, after all.” Robin made sure to impress that last point upon Tim as he folded his arms and pulled himself up to his full height. 

Batman contemplated how the rest of the night could play out as he cast a glance at Tim.

The boy definitely needed to get himself into bed and resting—and he was literally the Wayne’s next door neighbour. It would be no problem at all to send Jason over in the light of day to check in on him. But then Batman shifted his attention to Robin. Batman seemed to finally—FINALLY notice the weight of the fatigue wearing his Robin down. How could he not have seen this back at the cave?

Batman was an asshole.

Unaware that he was interrupting Batman’s epiphany, Tim piped up, “Maybe you should wait until Robin is feeling better, too?”

Jason wondered if he’d imagined the flash of guilt on B’s face.

“I think that’s a great idea, Tim.” Batman stood abruptly, then scooped Tim up again. “I’m positive we’ll find out how you made your way into Gotham proper another day, but for now, how do you feel about taking a ride in the Batmobile?”

Tim’s jaw dropped and his own tired eyes filled with an excitement equivalent to what he could only guess was Christmas, “Really?”

Batman smiled softly, “Really.” He looked over to Robin then, “What do you say, Robin? Want to call it an early night?”

Jason could have wept with relief, but Robin simply smiled. “That’s sounds like a great idea.”

Without another word, Batman manoeuvred young Tim Drake down to street level as Robin collected the kid’s backpack. Robin wondered briefly what they’d find out once they had Tim safely tucked into bed, but his third sneeze since hitting this rooftop snuck up on him and left him feeling a more than drained. “Ugh,” he grumped as he secured the zipper on the kid’s backpack and made his way to the fire escape.

They’d worry about it all another day.