#because she's his mission not his daughter

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Maverick makes time to have a conversation with Bradley, but you've already lost faith in him. Your words hurt him more than anything else could. 

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

When the mattress dipped and you felt the bedding shift around your legs, you opened your eyes to find Bradley climbing out of bed. The room was still dark, but his face was illuminated by his phone screen. The baby was thumping against your tender insides, making you wince, and your husband was playing around on his phone in the middle of the night. Or texting someone.

"What are you doing?" you croaked. Bradley's gaze snapped toward your face, and he leaned down to pull the covers to your shoulder.

"Uh, I need to head to base a little early," he whispered, tracing your cheek with his thumb. "To meet with Mav."

"What time is it?" you asked, rolling toward him to see his phone.

"Almost six," he replied, kissing your forehead as he tipped his screen away. "I love you. Try to get some more sleep."

You swallowed hard, rolling away from him as he started pulling his uniform from the closet. The rustle of fabric set your nerves on edge, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he got dressed. Maybe he thought you fell asleep again, because he didn't say another word before he left the room. But you were pretty sure you heard him stop in Rose's nursery before leaving the house.

Now you were wide awake and alone. Your phone told you it was 5:28 which was completely absurd. Neither you nor Bradley ever got to base before 8:00 unless you were working your ass off on a project.

He used Maverick as his excuse which seemed ridiculous. Bradley wasn't in the middle of training for a special mission which would require extra hours before daylight. And he had to know Maverick would only cover for him for so long.

You sat up and laughed miserably. Your husband was lying to you. And you thought you knew what he was lying about. Tears filled your eyes as your hand rested on your belly where your younger daughter was moving around. Why was Bradley doing this to the three of you? 

It wasn't like you couldn't tell how bad you looked at the moment. You knew it. You were bloated and chunky and broken out, but it was at least half his fault you were pregnant again in the first place. And you would make it a priority to get in shape after she was born. You would.

Your fingers were curled around the sheets, trying to keep yourself on your side of the bed, but you crawled toward Bradley's nightstand anyway. The lamp was too bright, taking your eyes a beat to adjust. You yanked the drawer open which offered almost no insight to anything except his Nugget Notebook with the pink and blue striped cover. But then you saw something underneath it.

You grabbed the second notebook, this one bright pink, and pulled it from the drawer. Only the first few pages were covered in his writing, but you soaked the words up greedily.

To my second daughter, you are the third love of my life. I realize that sounds a little unfair, like you're coming in third place, but I promise that's not that case. It's only because I met your mom and your sister first. You're not even here yet, but I already know I love you just as much as I love them. And I can't wait to meet you, too.

Before I get carried away, let me introduce myself. I'm your dad. It's my job to love you and take care of you. I'm not perfect, but I love you so much, I'll always try my best to be here for anything you need. To be honest, I never expected to have a family at all. And to be extra honest, you were a bit of a surprise. But a very good surprise. My favorite kind of surprise. I can't wait to teach you everything I know, which isn't much, but I do know how to love my three girls. 

"How?" you gasped, dropping the notebook back into the drawer. You sobbed into Bradley's pillow, unable to make sense of this. How was the man who wrote notebook passages to his children the same man who was sneaking around behind your back. With Indigo. It simply did not make sense, but both versions of him seemed to exist at the same time. And somehow you were the one who was more at odds with yourself than he was with himself.

You could feel the love he had for his daughters. It was so obvious. He was so good with Rose, and he seemed excited about having two kids.

You weren't sure if you'd be able to kick him out. You didn't know if you could leave him. If push came to shove, you didn't know if you could be that strong. You wished he wasn't making you consider it at all. 

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

"Oh, God."

Bradley was awake as soon as Maverick replied to his text at five in the morning. He'd barely been able to sleep anyway, but when Maverick told Bradley he was heading to Lemoore in a few hours for a meeting, he begged his godfather to meet with him first.

Now Bradley was sitting in his office in a silent building waiting for any help he could get. As far as he had worked out, Indigo had been devouring his extra attention for weeks for a less savory reason than he originally thought. All the times she invited him out for a drink left him shaking his head while he stared at the wedding photo perched in his desk. 

He never tried to hide the fact that he was married. He fucking flaunted it. You were perfect; why wouldn't he? If someone else thought they had a gorgeous wife? Ha, Bradley could lay it down in spades. Someone else claimed their wife was smart? Well, his was a goddamn genius. Someone wanted to brag about their kids? All he had to do was pull up a photo of Rose, and he had everyone around him swooning.

He found it easier to make small talk about his family than anything else these days, and he was sure Indigo knew he was married before he even left Texas to fly back to San Diego. It still seemed unlikely she wanted to sleep with him, but he wasn't going to deny that Nat was usually right about these things.

"Oh, God," Bradley groaned for probably the tenth time since he woke up. He wanted to rewind and go back to Texas and never select Indigo in the first place. 

But would that have been fair? To leave her behind when she was the best? When she was clearly one of the pilots who should be moving forward with new programs? It wasn't like she ever touched him. Other than persistently inviting him for drinks and showing up for all of his office hours, she never made an advance. But now he was uncomfortable. There was something about the way she always looked at him that.....yeah, Nat was right.

But if Bradley couldn't handle his first assignment in his new position, how was he supposed to prove he could do this going forward?

There was a knock on his already open door, and Maverick stood there looking perplexed. "Bradley? What did you need that couldn't wait until later this week?"

Bradley groaned again as he stood. "Can you shut the door?"

"Sure."

Maverick let it slip from his fingers, and Bradley waited until the echo of the door closing gave way to silence. He could feel his godfather's gaze on his face as his eyes closed. He swallowed hard, not wanting to waste the other man's time, but now that he was here, he felt so stupid. 

"I need your help," Bradley rasped, voice hoarse as his eyes opened. "It's work related."

"Okay," Maverick replied, voice between a statement and a question. "What can I do?"

Bradley's fingers curled around the edge of his desk as he looked down at his phone sitting there. "Uh...Mav, this is embarrassing."

When Maverick took a step closer, he reached across the desk to cuff Bradley on the shoulder. "Just hit me with it."

Bradley took a long breath and let it out slowly. "There's another officer who... well, it's been brought to my attention that she..." He let go of his desk and rubbed his fingertips against his eyes. "There's a chance my wife thinks something's going on between me and another officer on base. One who reports to me."

Maverick's expression gave nothing away, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step away from Bradley. "To be clear, Bradley, are you asking me to help you hide an indiscretion from your wife?"

Bradley's head tilted slightly. "Huh?" he grunted, thoughts already swirling around his mind so rapidly, it took him a few seconds to catch up. "What the fuck, Mav? No!" he gasped. "An indiscretion?" He could barely even say the word as he shook his head. "No. God, no! Nothing happened! Nothing is ever going to happen!"

He realized he was shouting when Maverick's hands flew into the air in surrender. "Okay. Alright. I hear you loud and clear. I just needed to be sure I understand what we're dealing with here. Why don't you have a seat and explain everything to me?"

Bradley was raking his fingers through his hair as he dropped down into his chair. "It's Lieutenant Jeffries. Indigo." Her intense blue eyes filled his mind as he shook his head. "Phoenix and Hangman pointed out that she..." He paused and glanced at the ceiling. "This is so embarrassing, Mav, but they said it seems like she wants to sleep with me."

"Hmm."

When Maverick hummed and went silent, Bradley said, "I know how ridiculous it sounds."

"It doesn't," his godfather replied immediately. "This sort of thing happens sometimes. You said nothing happened? You should keep your distance moving forward, and if she contacts you outside of work or does anything inappropriate, we can write it up."

Bradley groaned miserably, unlocked his phone, and pushed it across the desk with his messages open. "She did text me outside of work."

While Maverick reached for the phone, he said, "Did you give her your number?"

"No. Why would I do that?" he replied. "But honestly, it's not hard to get access to that kind of information. I didn't think much of it the first time."

Maverick shrugged. "Well, what did she text-" His eyes grew wide when he looked down at the phone, his cheeks turning pink as he was surely looking at the photo that had been in Bradley's messages for less than twelve hours.

"Yeah," Bradley croaked. "She sent that last night."

"But she texted you before that. When you never explicitly gave her your number." Maverick looked up at him, shaking his head. "Bradley, what were you thinking? She seems to have some sort of agenda. You should have come to me immediately after the first message."

Bradley stood, stomach lurching. His marriage, career, and reputation were somehow all on the line, and he hadn't even done anything. He couldn't help but think of his parents and the fact that his dad probably never put his mom through this kind of shit when she was seven months postpartum.

"An agenda?" Bradley whispered. "Shit, Mav. This is the kind of thing that happens on carriers. Not on base. I thought this was something men did way more than women when they wanted to cheat."

Maverick handed his phone back across the desk with the photo of Indigo open. Bradley swiped out of the text thread immediately, sick to his stomach. 

"You work in a high stakes field where women routinely outperform men. They are capable of anything you are."

"I know that!" Bradley snapped. "But I'm married! I'm not looking for that shit. I never let on that I was."

"Oh, you sweet summer child," Maverick sighed, checking his watch. "Literally," he added as he dug his own phone from his pocket. "If Lieutenant Jeffries is sending you photos and playing coy, she doesn't care about your wife."

Bradley winced. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Maverick grunted, taking a few steps toward the door. "And your wife is pregnant and vulnerable, and now I'm going to have to tell Admiral Simpson that I'll be late getting to Lemoore. Follow me. And bring your phone."

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

Bradley was late getting home. This was happening almost every night now, and you were hanging on by a thread as Rose screamed in your arms. She was fed, but she always seemed to prefer the way Bradley burped her over your technique.

"He's not here," you said through gritted teeth. "I don't know where he is or when he'll be back. I just need you to burp so you can go to sleep."

Your texts had gone unanswered. You weren't sure if Bradley had been in the cafeteria at lunchtime, because you hid in your office. Dinnertime had come and gone, and his cold plate of food was currently sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know where he is," you repeated to your daughter while her younger sister did somersaults against your bladder. Rose's sobs finally started to taper off as you rubbed your hand firmly against her back. She finally burped, and that seemed to do the trick. Her fists curled up next to her face as she yawned. You barely had enough time to change her into a clean diaper and pajamas before her eyes were closed.

You were mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. You stood in her nursery, watching her sleep while you decided you needed to say something to your husband tonight. There was no way you could keep punishing yourself for not being enough. If he wanted someone else, you deserved to have him say it to your face.

But when you heard him open the front door thirty minutes later, your heart lurched into your stomach at the sight of him. You'd known how handsome he was since the day you met him, and he only seemed to get better looking with age. Each year added more silver to his hair and laugh lines to his face, but he was undeniably sexy.

Today, however, he looked exhausted, and your brain went wild with awful ideas. What had he gotten up to? Why was he so late? The top buttons of his uniform were undone, and his hair was mussed. He was staring down at his phone in his hand while you stood silently at the end of the hallway, terrified of what he was looking at.

Suddenly everything you'd been holding inside for weeks was bubbling up to the surface, and you were done holding it back. You cleared your throat, and his gaze snapped up to your face, phone hanging in his hand by his side.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Is Rosie already asleep?"

You nodded, taking each step slowly until you were standing right in front of him. When he reached for you, his fingers skimmed your shoulder before you pushed his hand away. Those beautiful, brown eyes you loved so much went wide, but he didn't look surprised. Not at all.

"Why are you so late?" you snapped. "And don't feed me some bullshit about office hours, because I know your schedule. Or, at least, I know what they are supposed to be."

Bradley licked his lips, gesturing between the two of you with his phone. "I had to take care of something important with Maverick."

You wanted to laugh in his face. "You're really going to use the same excuse as this morning? Another meeting with Maverick? What, one was at the crack of dawn and the other was after dinnertime? I've been texting you for hours, Bradley."

You watched his Adam's apple bob. "I didn't have my phone with me for part of the day."

"You have it now!" you laughed sardonically, pointing at his hand just in time to see his phone light up. 

It was her. You saw her name there. Indigo. She was texting your husband well after work hours, and you could already feel the tears stinging your eyes.

You grabbed his phone before he seemed to realize what was happening. Your fingers shook as you entered his passcode to find it was still your birthday. He wasn't even trying to hide this from you. He wasn't trying to take his phone back. As you braced yourself for what you were about to see, you whispered, "What the fuck is going on with her?"

His brown eyes were so sincere, and once again, you couldn't understand how this was the same man who wrote journals for his unborn children. "Nothing," he replied, voice taking on a tone of defeated exhaustion. "There's nothing going on."

Your eyes dipped down to his phone to find not one, but two flirtatious selfies. One new one, and one that was sent last night while he was working out in the garage. Indigo's eyes stared back at you from the screen, mocking you, making a fool of your family.

You were crying. You didn't want Bradley to see you cry right now, but you couldn't stop. "This doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't tell her to stop."

Now he looked panicked, eyes wide as he saw the photo on his phone in your hand. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but I reported it, I swear! I've never been alone with her behind closed doors. You can call Mav!"

Violent sobs shook your body, and when Bradley slowly let his hand settle on your arm, you shook him free. "You expect me to believe nothing is going on? When you get home late every day? When she told me that it's no wonder you prefer her since I let myself go?" you gasped, swiping at your tears.

"What?" Bradley barked as you blindly handed his offending phone back to him. "She said that to you?"

You nodded miserably, taking a step away from him. "I don't want to know if you said that to her, or if she formed her own opinion after spending time with you. And I don't want to know if you're fucking her or just considering it. But I want you out of the house."

Bradley looked like you just slapped him. His mouth was hanging open, brow creased while you sobbed. "You want me out?" he whispered, hand going up to rake his fingers through his hair.

"Yes," you squeaked, trying to stay strong not just for yourself, but for your daughters as well. Every word hurt as you forced them out of your mouth, but you had to say them. "Go. Until I can talk to my parents about canceling the sale of their house. I'll transfer to Annapolis. Take the girls with me."

Bradley closed the distance to you, tears already pooling in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. His lips found your belly, and you sobbed harder as he wrapped his hands around your hips. "No. You can't," he said so softly, you could barely hear him. When he looked up at your face, you almost believed he would never be capable of hurting you. "Baby Girl, you can't leave me. I need you. I need my girls."

When you stepped out of his grasp, his arms fell limply to his sides. You'd never seen him look so miserable before, and you had to stand firm instead of reaching for his hands.

"Find somewhere else to sleep."

The implications of your own words stung your heart, and you had to watch him slowly get to his feet. He kissed your forehead, and your eyes blurred with fresh tears when he went down the hallway to Rose's room. Less than a minute passed, but each second felt like a day. You had plenty of time to tell him the truth. That you didn't want him to leave. That you couldn't blame him for wanting someone else, and you still needed him as much as he said he needed you.

When he reappeared, you pressed your lips together even as he kissed your damp cheek. "I love you," he rasped. "I'm never going to stop loving you. I'll figure out some way to make you believe me."

You watched him retreat to the front door with his keys, shoulders sagging as he gave you one last lingering look before slipping out into the darkness.

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

Ouch. Ouch. Okay. I want BG to believe Roo beyond any doubt, and I think I know how to make that happen. Please stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[miryum]

Don't Pity Me, My Princess (Azriel x Reader)

With Azriel as your personal knight, it's getting harder and harder for both of you to ignore your feelings.

Warnings: whole lotta angst. Talk of children and childbirth because royalty need heirs, you know? Az doesn’t have his shadows (even though it was so hard to write him without them) but is still called Shadowsinger. Azriel's mother was abused and there's like, one sentence about it

Word Count: 5k

Azriel had lived at the palace since he was a young boy. His mother had knocked on the servant’s quarters one dark night, begging for someone to take her son. She could handle an abusive husband, but she couldn’t bear her baby boy to suffer the same fate as she did. An old maid took pity on the new mother and agreed to house, clothe, and educate the child. Just before the new mother left, she kissed Azriel’s cheek and whispered his name. “You’ll do good things, my dear. I am so sorry.”

Coincidentally, a couple months later, the Queen gave birth to an infant girl. Princess Y/n was heralded with parades and celebrations, the new heir apparent. Meanwhile, in the servant’s quarters, a baby with a thick head of black hair and small little wings was just learning how to lift his head, staring up at the maids and butlers who saved his life.

Azriel grew up preparing for the life of a knight. He remembered growing up watching the knights train as he played with his own wooden sword. He remembered beating his still-developing wings to try and see over the wooden barrier of the jousting arena. He remembered when the knights first caught sight of him, trying to hack away at a dummy. They teased him at first, but then, just like his entire life, they took pity on him. The next week, Azriel began training as a squire.

It was a long time before he earned his leathers and then his siphons, but the Shadowsinger became a name that was both respected and feared throughout the kingdom. The King sent him on missions all over the continent and Azriel always returned successful. He would fight in the jousts and consistently win. He had maidens and ladies swooning over him, but they weren’t who he yearned for.

That’s why he volunteered, almost a bit too hastily, when the King asked for extra protection over his daughter, Princess Y/n. 

Azriel’s mind was filled with you, almost every moment of every day. It couldn’t be healthy, that he was aware of, but having grown up next to you, even if from the shadows, he had forged a deep connection to you.

When he was young, he had hardly noticed the little princess completing her studies. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw her in the halls or at the training ring — which is where he most frequented. But one day, a year or two after he had turned a teen, Azriel had fought in his first joust. In any joust, it was customary for a knight to be sponsored by a lady of the court. A lady usually had a favourite knight she regularly sponsored, so Azriel’s stomach was in a pit when it was time to trot by for potential sponsorship. Who would ever cheer for the newest, youngest knight? Azriel sure could beat a village boy in combat, but he was still the smallest and scrawniest of all of the palace’s knights — if you could even call him that. He could recall his anxiety as if it was yesterday. The way the crowd was cheering, the way his horse’s hooves kicked up dirt underneath, and the way he began to sweat as he tried to sit straight. 

And then, as he passed the royal box, you stood. Azriel almost kept his horse trotting by, sure it was a mistake, but when he saw you extract your blue handkerchief, he pulled on the reins. By some fortuity or fortune, your handkerchief was the same colour as his siphon. He had just earned his first one the week prior. Through his metal visor, he stared, wide-eyed, as you reached down and tucked your handkerchief into the folds of his armour. The rest of the court was watching too, but Azriel didn’t see them. He could only focus on the way his heart sped up when you whispered, “good luck.” 

You were an utter vision. Azriel was sure that you had chosen him to be your champion because of the closeness in your ages, but your support, even if it was just a piece of cloth you had embroidered, meant the world. He hadn’t won his first joust, or his second, but you kept sponsoring him. Azriel became accustomed to stopping under the royal box and bowing to you before heading to his starting position. Sometimes, especially if it was an important event, you would have a new handkerchief for him, or even some whispered encouragement, but Azriel didn’t need those things as long as he could keep making eye contact with you. And then he started winning. He could still hear your excited screams as his javelin hit his opponent straight on, which gained Azriel the championship. It wasn’t unusual for members of the court to get invested in the jousting, but others found it humorous that you were jumping from your seat to see better. However, you were only a teenager, and they knew you would soon be able to control your emotions. 

You had not-so-patiently waited for Azriel to bring his horse back around to the royal box after doing a lap of the stadium. People had thrown flowers and kisses and Azriel had shed his helmet, his cheeks hot from both the exertion and attention. When he saw you, he bowed deeply and handed a flower that someone had thrown to him. It was a small red rose. Your gloved fingers brushed his as you took the flower. His black hair hung over his face as he ducked his head. You made a mental note to have the barber stop by the barracks. “My Princess,” he muttered, head still bowed. “Thank you for choosing me as your champion, all those months ago.”

“Well, Sir Azriel, it certainly paid off, didn’t it?” you replied, smiling down at him. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” You nodded to one of your handkerchiefs that was tucked in the chink of his armour, right above his breast. 

That was the past. And now, Azriel had the glorious opportunity to stand in front of the King and Queen, multiple siphons displayed proudly as he suggested his own name for the position of your bodyguard. Your childhood knight was retiring, something everyone thought was best as his wit, speed, and strength declined. That opened up the position. The King and Queen had called for the Shadowsinger’s opinion and he gave it, however biased he was with his feelings. “Your Majesties, I believe that the best thing for this kingdom and your daughter would be if I offered my services.” 

“And why is that, Shadowsinger? Wouldn’t you rather be sent on missions and participate in protecting our kingdom?”

“With all due respect, my King, the princess is the face of the kingdom,” Azriel said, a knee pressing against the floor of the throne room. It hurt, yes, but he could handle it if it meant sparing you the pain. “The people love her, but that also means many hate her. There are too many dangers, especially with other kingdoms threatening to encroach on our borders. I would be able to protect the princess, and you and the Queen, more efficiently if I was her personal guard.”

The two monarchs exchanged a look before the Queen nodded. “Very well, then. You’ll assume the position effective immediately. You shall accompany Princess Y/n to events and daily excursions. You’ll be briefed more extensively later this week.”

Azriel nodded and stood. He thanked the King and Queen and hurried out, trying to conceal his budding smile.

“Do you remember all the signals?” you called from your dressing room. 

Azriel was standing outside, content to just listen to your voice, but he replied, “yes, my princess.”

“And you’re wearing your dress uniform?”

“Yes, my princess.”

“Are all the other guards as well?”

“Yes, my princess.”

The door then opened and you peeked out. “And are you sick of me asking you senseless questions?” you asked, an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Never, my princess,” Azriel answered softly, eyes holding yours. “Are you almost ready?”

You ducked back into your dressing room, voice floating out again. “Almost. I believe we just need some more hairpins, yes?” Your maid responded in an affirmative and a couple minutes later, the door opened once more. There you stood in a cobalt gown that cascaded down to the floor, hair all done up, and jewellery proudly displayed on your knuckles and upon your collarbone. It didn’t escape Azriel that your dress was the same colour as his siphons.

Azriel had spent years serving under the King and Queen, honing his emotions to be the stoic force he needed to be. But, with you in front of him, he found his resolve cracking. His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Do I look that horrible, sir?” you teased.

The guard immediately shook his head. “No, my princess. Quite the opposite, in fact. You…” his jaw tensed. “Those princes and dukes will be tripping over their feet.”

As much as Azriel would love to pretend that you were his and he would be the only one accompanying you tonight, he knew that this ball was for a very specific reason, and one he did not like. Your parents needed you wed, and it couldn’t be to him.

Nobility and court members alike knew to avoid Azriel when he was watching you. You were on your fifth dance with the fifth man and Azriel made sure to walk around the dance floor as you moved, always being as close as possible.

The moment Azriel had known he was to be your new personal knight, he had created a series of hand signals for you to use covertly. He was always on the lookout for your well-being and thankfully, there had only been a few times when you had needed to use the hand signals.

Months prior, your parents had held an anniversary ball for their marriage. You were a bit younger, more naive, and Azriel had only been your personal knight for just under a year. He had loved every moment of it, but he couldn’t help but feel a budding sense of anticipatory fear as he saw you twirl around the dance floor carelessly. You had one of your younger cousins in your arms and was spinning them around to their delight. While Azriel wanted to imagine a smaller child in the stead of your cousin, perhaps one with dark hair and your eyes and little wings that replicated his own, he was more focused on the older man that was watching you.

A measly Count from further South, the man looked twice your age and three times as intoxicated. He stayed on the outskirts of the celebration, but the Shadowsinger was not one to miss something.

When the Count approached you after your dance with your cousin, Azriel didn’t intervene. He couldn’t act only on a suspicion that the Count was malicious. And he wouldn’t act without your express approval.

But then he saw you twist the ring on your pointer finger.

When Azriel had first become your bodyguard, you were unsure if you could remember all the signals he had wanted you to memorise. A deeper fear, admittedly, was that he wouldn’t be watching and then unintentionally leave you to your own devices. Azriel was determined, however, to never waive your trust. He immediately came marching in, whispering something meaningless into your ear under the guise of matters only you, the princess, could attend to, and swept you away. A dirty look was thrown to the Count and Azriel made sure never to let you near him again. In fact, the Count was barred from any and all future events.

Meanwhile, you had finished your dance with the nameless suitor and Azriel already had an arm stretched out for you. You took it gratefully, needing a respite from all the men giving you unabashed stares. “I really do hate this,” you said to him as he guided you away. “I don’t see why they’re even letting me choose my husband if he will be from this very specific pool of men. At this point, it would be easier to simply betroth me to whomever they see fit.”

“You know my feelings on that, my princess,” Azriel replied. “And I’m sure your parents feel the same. They wish for you to have some sort of semblance of choice and happiness.” Even if it is not with me, the man who would worship you.

You sighed and looked down at your feet. “I know, good sir. But it’s tiring, as I’m sure you can realise. I’d much rather be in my room, engaging in the arts or taking a nap.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh, one that drew your lips up into a brilliant smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sure you would.” He paused and then looked down at you. You looked so perfect on his arm and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep you there. “Here’s a proposition: if you survive the rest of this evening, I will dance with you.”

Your eyes immediately light up and Azriel swore the stars themselves burned brighter, pledging their allegiance to you. God, you were like ambrosia in his veins and how he wished for it to keep flowing. “Really?” you gasped. Azriel had been very conservative in his dances, even though, unbeknownst to you, he would dance on forever if you asked. But whenever he held you in his arms, it was too intoxicating. Too dangerous. He was still the Shadowsinger, even if he was sworn to protect you. The hands he held you with had been the notorious cause for so much pain. The thought of telling you about his past missions… It scared him more than imaginable. Those memories were ones best kept locked away within the shadows. He didn’t want you to think of the people he’s hurt – of the suffering he had caused – when you looked at him.

So all he did was nod back, smiling the soft look only you could bring out.

The night slowly wore on, the candles flickering over the walls, bidding the departing guests farewell. And still you stayed. Even as the moonlight rose above the windows and the maids and butlers slowly began cleaning up, you stayed. Only the musicians remained as Azriel led you to the middle of the floor. There was an unspoken trust between you and the musicians, knowing they wouldn’t tell your parents (who had already gone to bed) about your singular, last dance with your knight.

Easily, you placed your hand on his shoulder and Azriel’s palm flexed on the small of your back. The way your dress swished softly was a small distraction from the thoughts swirling in Azriel’s mind. He drew your joined hands closer to his chest as he thought back to how you danced with those other men. As if you knew he needed comfort, you stepped closer to Azriel, resting your head on his chest and eyes closing with exhaustion. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you tightly – almost protectively – as he let his cheek rest on your hair. His eyes softened and he murmured, “tired, my princess?” 

“Over a multitude of things,” you replied. 

Azriel tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “A multitude of things?”

“I almost wish I didn’t have to marry,” you admitted. “It’s not as easy as it seems in the stories. I need to take alliances into consideration and the happiness of my people. Along with wealth, resources, and good blood. My feelings hardly add into the equation, even though I want them too.” You then shook your head and changed the subject, a teasing smile on your lips. “Has anyone complimented your wings before?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“No,” he responded, a bit hoarsely. “No one has.”

You hummed and shook your head. “They should.” Your eyes trailed down to your intertwined hands before giving his palm a small squeeze. His burn scars marred his skin, contractures stretching over his hands and arms and small keloids by his wrists and creeping up to his elbows. Azriel winced slightly at the pressure of your hand on his scarred skin, memories of the pain flooding back. He tried to hide it, not wanting to ruin the moment, but a flicker of discomfort crossed his features. You instantly lifted your hand slightly to give him reprieve. Azriel wished for the contact back, but he knew he was the one to blame for the lack of touch. He was the one to make you flinch away.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, trying to bring the conversation back to his wings. "You’re the first.”

“I’m privileged then,” you murmured as he spun as the music lilted. “Though it truly is a pity.”

As you spun around, Azriel's wings extended instinctively, the iridescent membranes catching the moonlight. He held you close, ensuring your balance, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to revel in the beauty of his own wings. They were a part of him, and something he couldn’t imagine living without. He watched you longingly as you twirled in his arms. His eyes followed the movement of your gown as you twirl. When he had you pressed close to him once again, he replied quietly, “is it really a pity, my princess?”

“They should’ve been complimented — all of you should’ve been complimented a thousand times before now,” you corrected yourself quickly, thumb sweeping over his hand where yours was placed on top of his. “You don’t see how amazing you are because you hide behind your scars and memories. But you’re the best knight I’ve had.”

The words carved him open deeper than any blade, striking into the insecurities he held. The sincerity in your voice and the gentle touch of your thumb on his hand made something in his chest ache. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. The idea of all of him being complimented, rather than just specific parts or aspects, such as his fighting ability, was a foreign concept. He glanced down at you, eyes filled with sereness. “All of me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough.

You nodded with a caring, hopeful smile on your face. Maybe he would finally see how sensational he was.

Eventually, you came to a stop, standing in the middle of the room. The musicians finished their song and quietly packed up, leaving. Yet, you and Azriel were still in each other’s arms. Azriel continued to hold you, savoring the moment. He relished being able to hold you like this, without anyone else around. 

“Do you truly pity me?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered out. “I would never be able to pity the man who devoted his life to me. I would never be able to pity the man who devotes himself to me. And I don’t think I have it in me to pity the man whom I truly care for.”

For a brief moment, he stood rigid, unused to such easy affection. Then, his wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the world outside. “As I you, my princess,” he allowed himself to say, scared that if anything more were to come from his mouth, it would be a declaration of unwanted love.

“Will you ever call me anything else?” you couldn’t help but tease, looking up at him.

Azriel smiled back down at you, hazel eyes warm with love. “No, my princess.” The night was silent, but Azriel didn’t want to be. His lips parted to tell you something, but when your eyes darted down to them, he found himself asking, “have I yet praised your dress?”

“You have,” you laughed. “But it’s kind of you to do it again. I wanted to match you, you know?” You reached down and pulled your dress to the side to reveal a glittering sheen of fabric under the thick cobalt fabric.

Azriel’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Beautiful, princess,” he admired sincerely once again. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” He repeated the words you had said to him all those years ago.

“I’ll always wear your colours,” you replied. “You’re my knight, after all. Ever since I was young.” Your hand slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, thumb brushing against his skin and along the hair by the nape of his neck.

The Shadowsinger couldn’t contain his shiver. “Must you, my princess?” he breathed out, voice rough.

“Must I what?”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut and his head dipped down, nose brushing against your forehead. “Must you marry some duke or prince?”

It took you a while to respond and Azriel’s heart only beat faster each second that passed. “No,” you admitted quietly. “But my parents would like it. They won’t have me marry a commoner, but… I could very well marry a knight.”

“Princess…” Every part of his soul seems to be reaching out, grasping for you. His grip tightened slightly, holding you against him as if he feared you would be ripped. His hands trembled slightly as they remained on your waist. There was a vulnerability in his eyes – a desperate need for confirmation that the words you said were real. “Do not give me hope if you plan on tearing it away. It is too cruel of you.”

“So it’s true,” you muttered. “You have feelings for me?”

“I am not brave like you,” he instead said. “I’ve been your loyal knight for years, my princess. But I couldn’t bear to make myself a liability to your heart. I couldn’t do that to you. I care what others think of me, as much as I hate it. They cannot pity me, I cannot have it so.”

You shook your head sadly. “Sir, they do not feel sorry for you. No one does, especially not me. You’ve protected me for so long, you’ve more than earned your place here by my side. This isn’t some fanciful notion born of youthful indiscretion. You and I both know that. This is a mature, considered love that, hopefully, you feel too.” Your voice cracked as you continued and tears shone in your eyes. Oh, how Azriel hated to be the one to cause you such pain. “My love for you, as you are, flaws and all, is why I adore you so deeply.”

The man couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What did one say when the love of their life confessed feelings?

You couldn’t see the way he gazed down at you, almost lovingly. You stubbornly kept your cheek on his chest, trying to minimise the way your cheeks heated up. Why wasn’t he saying anything? But you were already so far in, so you couldn’t help but whisper, “you would do most anything for me, correct, good sir?”

“Within a heartbeat.”

“Do you mind if I demand something from you?” you asked.

Azriel chuckled softly at your question, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. He tilted his head curiously as his fingers traced small circles on your lower back. “What did you have in mind, my princess?” he asked, his voice low. “I'm curious now... What could possibly entice you enough to make a deal with the devil himself?” 

“Oh, the devil himself?” you repeated, shaking your head as you laughed softly. Somehow, he always managed to make you feel better, no matter the embarrassment that coursed through you. “Is that what you truly think of yourself?” You smiled up at him, not answering his question as you tried to find the courage to do so. Finally, you whispered out, “a kiss.”

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your whispered confession. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, hardly believing what he heard. He could feel his heart skip a beat, like a leaf in the wind. You looked so small in his strong arms, so hopeful. “Is that all you would ask for?” he finally managed to ask. His wings twitched a bit.

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. That’s what I would demand.”

He stared down at you, taking in every detail of your face - the slight parting of your lips, the wide-eyed gaze, the flush creeping up your neck. He could feel the tension between you, thick and electric, like the air before a storm. His hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. Gently, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, his voice a low rasp. “Nothing more?” 

“Ignorant knight,” you whispered out once, laughing.

“Is that still what you want?” he asked again desperately. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it made him dizzy. His eyes traced over your face over and over again. 

“Oh, Shadowsinger,” you muttered, shaking your head in amusement. You reached up and cupped his face in your palms. “Why won’t you kiss me?” You reached up on your tiptoes before slowly connecting your lips. 

Azriel had been struck by lightning. Every nerve ending in his body came alive, sending sparks of pleasure through him. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, scarcely able to believe what was happening. Then, with a low groan, he melted into the kiss. His hand came to cup your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. He poured all his pent-up longing and affection into it, trying to convey without words just how much you mean to him.

From the sheer intensity of it, your knees weakened under you, but Azriel quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you securely against his chest. You tilted your head and it felt like a dream. But he didn’t need to wake up because you were real. You were there, loving him fully and kissing him sweetly.

Azriel laid in bed, body and wings curled around the smaller form. His eyes blinked slowly, gazing down reverently at the infant. The baby had small wings that were almost exact to Azriel��s own. They had made the birth difficult and Azriel had been about ready to break down the door when he heard your screams. He hadn’t been allowed in the room, even though you had begged for him. Your cries had brought him to his knees and replaced the nightmares about his past missions with ones of your sobs.

Nevertheless, you had accomplished the horrible feat and Azriel had rushed into the room. He had first checked up on you, hands and anxieties flying about, kisses being placed on the skin that he could reach. Then he saw his little son, whom he now held in his arms. 

You had recuperated over the months, but it never got old to Azriel to hold his child. It never got old to hold you either. The moment he had gotten his child in his arms, so unbelievably worried about doing harm to him as he had done harm to so many others in his past, Azriel had asked for another. 

You had almost thrown him out of the room.

That first night, Azriel had held both you and child close to his bare chest, for the midwives had said that skin-to-skin contact was best. For the next few weeks, Azriel hardly put on a shirt (which you didn’t complain about), so it got normal to see the ex-knight pressing his son against his chest as he walked around the castle, as if giving the newborn a tour. The baby’s head fit perfectly in Azriel’s palm and more often than not, he would look up at his father with wide eyes that were so much like his mother’s, reaching out to grab at Azriel’s chin or wings.

The Shadowsinger had yet to be thrust into the life of King, for your parents hadn’t passed on, but for that he was grateful. It gave him more time to spend with his wife and child.

There was the creak of a floorboard and Azriel looked up to see you entering your shared bedroom. A smile instantly broke out on his face. “There’s my wife,” he murmured, reaching out with his hand that was adorned by the perfect ring. Its twin sat on your own finger. “My princess.” The words had such a sweeter connotation now.

“Husband,” you replied, having yet to get used to that word. You took his hand, and with a smile of your own, crawled into bed next to your son. “How are my two favorite Shadowsingers doing?”

“Oh, he shall not need that title,” Azriel hummed. “It’s much too dangerous for our little boy.”

“And what would you rather propose?”

Azriel gazed down at the small child, a hand ghosting over the boy’s thick patch of dark hair. “That’s for him to decide,” he finally said. “He will be able to make his own name and title and we will love him whichever path he chooses.”

After some blissful moments passed, you allowed some words to tumble from your mouth. “Are you happy, my love?”

“Of course.” He looked up at you, concerned eyes snapping away from the babe. “Why do you ask? Do you doubt my love for you?”

You shook your head, smiling. Your voice was quiet, worried about stepping over a line. But if almost two years of marriage had taught you anything about Azriel, it was that he never held secrets from you. “No, never. I just remember how, before we were wed, you were certain that everybody pitied you. I was wondering, do you still think they do?” 

“No,” your husband replied, eyes soft as he looked over at you. “Why would they? My entire world is here with me now. I hardly need anything else.”

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first ACOTAR fic so I hope I did Azriel justice. 😊 I wanna thank @pellucid-constellations for writing amazing Azriel fics and getting me into ACOTAR in the first place and just being amazing. (Also @illyrianbitch for posting today and giving me the excitement to post for Az) 😁

[abdy-18]

Fanfics where Yor takes care of Loid will always be my favorite because Yor genuinely enjoys taking care of the people she loves; it's her way of expressing affection and she wants to take care of her (fake) husband, not because she feels the obligation to do so because of the traditional wife role but because that's how her heart is.

Loid, on the other hand, has never had anyone to truly take care of him since he lost his mother. His life has been a constant cycle of loneliness and distrust. Even if his handler or some senior agent ever showed him the slightest empathy or suggested he take things easy, he would probably have assumed they were only doing it because he was a valuable asset, a resource they had to protect for utility. Twilight would surely think that, the moment he stopped being useful, they would throw him away like just another object.

But then Yor cares for him when he's most vulnerable, unable to contribute anything, when he feels like he's nothing but "useless," Yor is there, attentive, genuinely caring for him without expecting anything in return. She not only takes care of Anya, but also keeps the household running smoothly, showing him that everything will be okay even if he can't take care of everything himself.And for the first time in a long time, Twilight lets his guard down. He allows himself to relax, let the exhaustion catch up with him, and finally rest because Yor, Anya, and Bond give him a peace he never thought possible.

I have all of these in my ao3 bookmarks but I need more please 😭 if anyone knows more please tell me 😭

Harbor by frumplebump

Succumbing to the flu is not a luxury Twilight can afford, but when his immune system betrays him, Yor is there for him.

swing the spinning step by firewoodfigs

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an overworked and underpaid spy must, at some point in time, be so besieged by a terrible flu—in order that his lovely wife might take care of him. 

Something More by Thurito for nightofnyx8

The first thing the spy felt in the morning was such a strong weight on top of him that for a moment he thought it was someone who finally found his identity. His heart jumped, but as soon as his eyes were open and the man felt himself waking up more, he noticed what it was. He was sick. Twilight was sick. For the first time in more than a decade.

But I'm Here and So Are You by EmmyGracey

The Forger family returned to their hotel room after the airship crash wanting nothing more than warm clothes and a little bit of rest. When it’s Yor’s turn to get cleaned up she notices the cut on Loid’s head is bleeding again. She needs to take care of that. Loid’s not used to being taken care of. He finds it rather nice.

Spies Don't Get Paid Enough by Justanotherfannerd

Twilight does a shady mission that goes awry and Loid and Yor deal with the fallout. Purposeful obliviousness and injuries ensue. It's probably for the best that Anya is at a sleep over while all of this happens. or Twilight gets hurt, Yor plays doctor, and the both of them hide behind obliviousness.

Consequences by Raindrops_On_The_Pavement

Loid Forger is not indestructible, despite being Westalis's best. (I suck at summaries but I promise the story is good) Just a Loid Forger sickfic because why not? (The intro is a bit slow, but it gets sickfic/angsty dw)

A way out by MDSpencer

Twilight faces the consequences of his actions, and he seems to drag his family down with him

The Man From Mars by neejmorp

Something was wrong with Yor’s husband. He wore a constant smile on his face. It fooled colleagues, neighbors, and friends alike. The three people in his life who knew him best — his wife, his daughter, and his handler — all knew better. There was something off about his eyes. Loid survives a near-death experience following a mission abroad, but the incident impacts him and has an affect on his relationship with his family—particularly Yor.

You need to knock out this blondie more often :3

[satsugacafe]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐡𝐞𝐢 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐚𝐬 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: hiya! may i ask if you can write some hc of shuhei hisagi being in a relationship with the daughter of shunsui kyoraku?

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: This was so adorable to write. I had a ball of a time. Hope you enjoy, anon!

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: What’s it like to date Hisagi as Kyoraku’s kiddo.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi initially hesitated to even approach you, not because of who your father was. He had never expected to catch the eye of Captain Kyoraku’s daughter, and frankly, it left him a little frazzled. He wasn’t exactly one to think himself suave, despite what others might believe.

˚₊‧꒰ა He always felt like a fumbling idiot around you, though he’d never admit it. And it didn’t help that Kyoraku always seemed to be watching him with a teasing grin whenever he was around, and Kensei made sure to remind him how ridiculous he looked when he zoned out or messed up after those encounters.

˚₊‧꒰ა He found it impossible to stay away, though, your laugh was infectious, and your sharp wit kept him on his toes. You didn’t mince your words, and if someone was being daft, you made sure they knew it. He couldn’t resist how genuine you were, even when it meant being on the receiving end of your dry humour.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he finally got the nerve to confess his feelings, it was after a few too many shared drinks at the Seireitei tavern. “I don’t want you to think this is just the saké talking, but I’d be mad not to tell you—you’re amazing. And if your dad kills me for this, at least I’ll die happy.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Dating you meant Hisagi found himself regularly tangled in Kyoraku’s antics. Shunsui took an almost sadistic delight in teasing him, often dropping into conversations with casual comments like, “So, Hisagi-kun, have you prepared your will yet? I’m sure Nanao-chan can help you file it properly.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You weren’t immune to your father’s teasing either, but you handled it with ease, often replying with a quick, “Don’t worry, dad, I’ll make sure to put you in the nicest care home when the time comes.” Watching your banter with Shunsui made Hisagi fall for you even harder.

˚₊‧꒰ა Your father, for his part, seemed more amused than anything else by the developing romance. “Ah, Shuhei, my boy,” he’d grin lazily, sipping his sake, “you’ve got quite the task ahead of you. She’s more stubborn than I ever was, so best of luck keeping up.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite Shunsui’s laid-back attitude, Hisagi knew the man was fiercely protective. The first time Shunsui casually reminded him of your combat prowess—“You know, she could probably wipe the floor with you, right?”—he didn’t doubt it for a second. But you brushed it off with an exasperated, “Dad, stop trying to scare him off. He’s already too stubborn to run.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi quickly realised that dating you wasn’t just about your sharp humour; you were also the most loyal and determined person he’d ever met. Whether it was training, missions, or standing up for others, you threw yourself into everything wholeheartedly, and it inspired him to push himself further too.

˚₊‧꒰ა You had a knack for putting him in his place when he was being too hard on himself. One particularly rough evening, after a mission went sideways, he was spiralling into self-doubt. “I should’ve seen it coming,” he muttered, head in his hands. You pulled him up by the collar, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “If you don’t stop this pity party right now, I swear I’ll spar with you until you beg for mercy.” He didn’t doubt you for a second.

˚₊‧꒰ა Very gentle when sparring with you, despite your insistence that he didn’t need to hold back. “I’m not risking Kyoraku-taichou’s wrath by accidentally bruising his daughter,” he’d joke, dodging your strikes with ease. You’d roll your eyes and quip, “He’s more likely to scold you for not giving me a proper challenge.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He adored how effortlessly you balanced your fierce independence with your softer, more affectionate side. You weren’t the type to gush over romantic gestures, but you had a way of making small moments feel monumental. Sometimes, it was as simple as leaning against him while watching the sunset, murmuring, “This is nice,” like it was all you needed.

˚₊‧꒰ა He loved spoiling you in little ways—bringing you your favourite snacks after a long day, slipping you flowers he’d picked from the Seireitei gardens, or surprising you with tea brewed exactly how you liked it. He always tried to play it cool, but you could see the faint blush on his cheeks every time.

˚₊‧꒰ა Dates with him often involved quiet, secluded spots where you could both relax without the pressures of your respective duties. He’d take you to the outskirts of Rukongai, where the stars seemed brighter, and the world felt more peaceful.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d bring his guitar sometimes, playing soft melodies as you leaned against his shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of talent,” you’d murmur, and he’d reply with a humble shrug, “I just like the sound. It’s better when you’re here to listen.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When he introduced you to some of his closest friends, like Renji and Ikkaku, it was both hilarious and mildly chaotic. They teased him relentlessly, especially when you mentioned how often he talked about you. “Shuhei, mate, you’re whipped,” Renji laughed, earning a scowl from your boyfriend. You just smiled, enjoying how easily he got riled up.

˚₊‧꒰ა Teasing him about his “tough guy” image was never-ending, especially when he went out of his way to avoid conflict. “Shuhei, you’re a lieutenant, not a pacifist. You do realise it’s your job to fight sometimes, right?” He’d just grin and reply, “I’m saving my energy for when you challenge me. That’s the real battle.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Loved seeing you in your element during training. Your precision, speed, and strategy were unmatched, and he often found himself mesmerised. “If I didn’t know better,” he’d joke, “I’d think you were showing off just to impress me.” You’d roll your eyes but secretly enjoy the compliment.

˚₊‧꒰ა While you were confident in battle, Hisagi noticed how you sometimes hesitated to accept help or show vulnerability. He made it his mission to remind you that it was okay to lean on someone else. “Even the strongest people need a hand sometimes,” he told you after a gruelling mission, gently taking your hand.

˚₊‧꒰ა The first time you were injured on a mission, Hisagi’s calm facade cracked entirely. He sat by your bedside, gripping your hand tightly as he rambled nervously. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that again, got it? I’m already on thin ice with your dad. Don’t make him actually kill me.” You squeezed his hand and replied, “Relax, Shuhei, I’m not going anywhere. Someone has to keep you in line.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You often found yourself mediating between Hisagi and Kyoraku during their playful yet mildly antagonistic interactions. When your father would casually comment, “You sure you want to stick with this one? There are easier options out there,” you’d roll your eyes and reply, “He’s got more guts than most, dad. That’s good enough for me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite the constant teasing, Shunsui genuinely seemed to approve of Hisagi, though he’d never admit it outright. One evening, after a family dinner, he patted Hisagi on the back and said, “You’re still alive, so I must like you at least a little.” Hisagi’s relieved laugh was probably louder than necessary.

˚₊‧꒰ა You and Hisagi made an incredible team during joint missions. While he admired your ability to think on your feet, you appreciated his unshakable determination and strategic mind. More often than not, you’d end up bantering mid-fight, much to your enemies’ confusion. “You call that a dodging technique?” you’d shout. “It’s called improvising!” he’d retort.

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi often wondered how he got so lucky, especially when you’d lean against him after a long day and mumble, “I’m glad it’s you, Shuhei.” Those quiet moments reminded him that, no matter what chaos life threw at him, he’d always have you by his side.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[starfata]

You know that advice, wrote the fanfic you want to read?

There's a fic concept I posted about here- wish babies.

An explanation for inexplicable baby acquisition- parents wish for a baby- parents granted a baby by the fae. Variants include having to actually say the words "I wish for a baby" vs the fae sensing your hearts desire when you wish really intently.

The fic I want to write- it's for Top Gun. Maverick Mitchell is granted a Wish baby.

I wanted an Icemav baby- but just to make it a bit angsty, Tom still married Sarah and they have two children. He wished for a child with Mav one night while looking after his eldest.

Because they had something- but Maverick ended it cold after Tom got married, because no matter how much he loved Tom he would not touch a married man.

Maverick has wish babies on both sides- his mother was known to be one. So he knows how that has been a mark against him, in the eyes of the brass. Because Wish babies are legally protected- for a reason. And the military is happy to use any recruit that enters but has historically been very suspicious of wish babies and descendants.

Tom is still climbing the ranks. He has a wife and two beautiful children who'd be hurt by his long ago wish, a career damaged by his relationship with Maverick- because even if Wish babies are legally protected, there's still scorn for their same-sex parents in many cases.

Maverick will let Tom know her, name him as her legal guardian in the event anything happens to him- but he'll never admit who her other parent is. Even as he names her Julia in honour of her Kazansky great-grandmother and is just grateful she wasn't Katarzyna.

So Maverick as a dad, preparing for retirement in December after Darkstar wraps up, with a growing daughter who is the centre of his world, who likes planes but also likes mermaids and pirates and wants a cat or a dog or a coop of chickens once her dad's a civilian.

And then The Mission.

It's a work in progress, and I've focused on the baby so far, but I wanted to share the current plotline.

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 11

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother.

Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

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Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes, English is not my first language, sorry if it's too much exposition, it's my first fic.

Ónoma literally means name in Greek, at least according to google translate. View this as the y/n of this fic.

☆☆☆

“You know what, I wasn’t gonna go into town today, but I need to cool off. I’ll see you in a bit.” Peach exclaimed, still shocked at the man’s audacity.

“Did I get you that hot and bothered? Wait you’re really going to leave me here? At least get me inside!” He demanded, but Ónoma only kept walking. “Please?” He called out in desperation. “Oh, come on I said please didn’t I?"

“Wretched woman. Can’t even have any fun around here.” He grumbled. He could crawl back to the house, but he was too proud for that. He could remain seated here, but he’d be vulnerable, for as far as a God could be. He could try and stand, but he’d probably only injure himself more. Poseidon groaned, what had he gotten himself into? Maybe she’d treat him better if she knew he was a God, but then again, he was injured.

☆☆☆

Of course, Agathe had to be the one to open the door. Peach really wasn’t in the mood to interact with the priestess, but Agathe seemed to sense as much and called for her younger sister. Irene was bathing, so she’d have to wait a bit. As she sat at the table with Agathe, she could only think about the comment.

The comment was bold and demeaning, but she also couldn’t help but feel flattered. The man in question was exceedingly beautiful, but he was still a man. Men would fuck a rock if it had a hole, stop it. She cursed herself.

“You seem a bit flustered, I don’t think it’s because of me, but if it is.” Agathe inhaled, then continued. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, it mustn’t  be nice to be in a position where you’d have to stop a person from doing that. I’ve spoken with and apologised to Arete, if it makes you feel any better, and I’m extremely grateful for your discretion about the situation. I feel so ashamed of what I could’ve done.” She rambled.

“Agathe, you stopped the moment I stepped in. Sure, you should’ve stopped when she told you to, but maybe you didn’t hear her. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and you’ve showed remorse. I’m not upset with you, anymore, it’s something else. Don’t worry, alright.”

“I know we’ve never really been friends, but my sister cares about you, so by extension, I care about you. At least a little bit. I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

“Thank you, Agathe. The same goes for you, though now is not really good time, but if it’s something urgent-”

“Thank you.” Agathe interrupted, giving her an understanding nod. “You’ve got your own things to worry about right now.” She smiled softly at the younger girl.

☆☆☆

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Irene questioned her friend.

“I needed to clear my head, walk with me?”

“And you came to me, instead of Telemachus? I’m honoured, you usually go to him with your dilemmas. Wait, is it about him?” Irene interrogated.

“No, it’s not about Tele, and I talk to you about plenty of stuff, he’s just a bit more serious than you are.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Her friend snorted. “I shouldn’t laugh, I’m sure if I had to grow up around those pigs I’d be the same.”

“You’d probably be ogling them, Renebug.”

“You offend me, I’d never go for such dogs.” Irene said in mock offense. “No, you’re right I’d definitely appreciate looking at some of them. From afar! I wouldn’t dare go near them. It’s such a pity when the handsome ones are so…” She paused.

“Misogynistic? Beastly? Repulsive, personality wise? Abrasive? Arrogant?- ” Ónoma listed.

“All of the above?” Irene suggested. The two giggled at their own antics.

“This is exactly what I meant, by the way.”

“Yeah, I’m way less serious, I get it. So, what did you want to talk about, if it wasn’t your other half?”

“There’s this man-”

“By the Gods! You? Thinking about a man? I never thought I’d live to see the day!” Irene exclaimed, pretending to faint in her friends arms. “Fan me, Peach, I think I’m in shock.”

“Gods Irene, get up.” Ónoma giggled, pushing her dramatic friend away. “You don’t even know what I want to say.” She sputtered out between laughter.

“Well go on then, I want to know everything. Is he handsome?”

“Ethereal, but it doesn’t matter, he’s a pain in my ass, that’s what he is.” Irene was taken aback, she’d never heard her friend describe a man as attractive, much less ethereal. She’d have to see it for herself one day.

“I found him, stranded on the beach, more injury than man. I’ve been taking care of him, but he’s… He’s like if the suitors were all bark no bite.” Irene’s eyes widened.

“He’s that bad, huh? Maybe you can get your little prince to kick him out.” Irene calling her friend that did not offend her. Perhaps she was biased, though not unfounded, or perhaps the context and the tone mattered. Irene hadn’t meant for it to be derogatory, she actually got along nicely with the prince, not that their paths crossed often.

“I wouldn’t want him to piss off Zeus, from what the king told me they don’t have a great track record with him.”

“Wait, hold on, you spoke with the king? When was this?” Irene exclaimed.

“I had dinner at the palace yesterday, as a thank you for protecting Queen Penelope. Don’t think it earned me any favour with the royals, if anything it did the opposite. I don’t really want to talk about it.” While Irene was a massive gossip, she knew that she could trust her with this. Her friend would never share the secrets Ónoma told her.

“I could come by, then we could be so annoying that he’d want to leave without kicking him out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” Peach laughed. “No, I’d feel bad about him leaving before he’s healed properly.”

“Ever the saint.” Irene rolled her eyes, smiling. Then in a more serious tone she continued. “Your mother would be proud. She taught you well, you could still become a healer if all of your ‘helping out’ ever gets to be too much.”

“I’ve been considering it more and more recently, but I’m not ready to step away from everything else just yet.” Ónoma muttered, softly.

☆☆☆

When Ónoma returned to her house, she was a lot calmer, that was until she saw Perikles. The man had gotten halfway to her house by pushing the mat he was sat on through the sand with his legs, but had seemingly given up. Now, he sat in the middle of the sand, glaring at the girl who was doubled over in laughter. The construction workers had finished up and had already left. She imagined he’d waited for them to leave, before he attempted to do whatever it is he did.

“Alright, let’s get you inside.” Peach said, still snickering. The man was still glaring at her, but didn’t protest as she helped him up.

Next.

☆☆☆

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@doodle-with-rhy

@isla-finke-blog

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

[fancyfeathers]

Could you please do more interactions with the yandere justice league darlings interacting with eachother?. Pls?! Baby, I'm down on my knees!🙏❤️🙏

Yandere!Justice League AU Masterlist

I’m trying to brainstorm a few things for it but here are some thoughts off of the top of my head.

Like Giovanni Zatara’s darling if we are going by Young Justice’s Justice League, probably the oldest darling out of them all, definitely is the mom of them all. Clark’s darling or Barry’s darling or any darling who have children, she watches them when they are all stuck in the watchtower or they need extra help around the house because their partner is going to be out on a mission for awhile day or two, she helps take care of their kids, especially in those years when Zatara becomes Doctor Fate for those ten years and she is left to take care of Zatanna.

Zatara’s darling is one who falls into stockholm syndrome pretty quickly, probably falling for the charming widower and becoming a mother figure to his daughter very quickly before she gets kidnapped and she just cannot hate him because everything he does is done with pure intention to keep her safe because he loves her so much. So when he is gone, she does not leave even when she can because she cannot abandon Zatanna or any of the darlings of the Justice League who still ate so new to this and they need that support from someone who knows how hard this all is. So it’s not unusual for Clark to come home with his kids playing outside and his own darling sitting in the kitchen while Zatara’s darling makes her a cup of coffee.

J’onn’s darling has a hard time getting to know the other darlings, when she is back home she hardly says a word because n there is always a mental link between her and J’onn almost all the the time when they are together, it is far more intimate and it makes everything feel like home and over time she is just so used to it that when all of them are together she is almost completely silent because she does not know how to communicate with others after a sudden change that has taken hold of her for so long. But I think the only one she has no problem talking to are the children of other darlings because I imagine her either being a librarian or a preschool teacher before everything was thrown out or wack.

I think Oliver Queen and Dinah Lance would be in a poly relationship with their darling so when their darling is left behind because of some dangerous threat the first thing she does is spend an hour or two alone just to decompress before she gets everything off her chest cause one of all those darlings had to be a therapist before they got kidnapped, if not then Zatara’s darling is the next best thing. Also do not touch Green Arrow’s darling, I honestly think she would have been a street level vigilante before getting kidnapped, she will break your nose.

[ambiguouslady42]

Iris

Pairing: Loid Forger x You

CW: Angst and comfort. Referring to government as "force" or "IT". W

WC: 1.3K

Tags: @himenoakuma, @lazyjellyfish300

Notes: As an American, I'm having difficulty with a lot right now. I wrote this to comfort myself to the best of my ability. It might not make sense. This is my contribution for the Challenge Friday with the @pixelcafe-network

Loid Forger, the well-respected spy with a million faces, can solve any problem; nothing is too much or too little. No mission is impossible for him, whatever you ask of him, he’ll do it. He will do anything to protect his family.

He does his best to be a good father to his daughter. Always skirting spoiling her and being firm with her, but Anya’s happiness is his priority. When Anya met you for the first time, she felt comfortable and safe around you. You are a pillar of light that she could rely on. You acknowledge that you will protect her, no matter what. You would take on anything or anyone face-to-face if it meant protecting your family. 

You are a team in that regard. You vowed together that you would protect each other, no matter what. Yet, you feel yourself faltering. You wonder if there’s sometimes a force bigger than you that you can take on. Could you go against everything you grew up believing if it meant protecting them? That force doesn’t even acknowledge your existence. 

Your parents sacrificed a lot for you to exist. Your existence has only been diminished to exist as a person who should just be at home, bare children. You’re not fit for combat, yet you know you would fight for them. You don’t look like a fighter, but you are. You can’t tell him how you feel because you promised yourself that you would be strong and not falter. You put on a brave face when they’re around, and smile. He can see that something is going on inside you. Being ever observant, he notices when you’re not saying much. That bubbly personality that is often present, has suddenly disappeared. If anyone were to ask, “Are you okay?” you just nod and smile. When Loid tries to coax it out of you, you just mention it’s just the weather changes; it’s currently winter. 

One day you’re at home coloring with your daughter. The colours do distract you. Anya looks up to you. Without any prompting, she hugs you. It isn’t the responsibility of the child to care for the adult, it never is. She’s aware that there’s been a grey cloud looming above you, and you feel guilt for allowing those feelings to become apparent to her. She doesn’t need to know that you are experiencing a moment of weakness. You need to be strong for her. Always. As the hug lingers a little longer, you know that you have to protect her, no matter at what cost. She deserves to have a winning chance in this place, despite how IT chooses to look at you and define you. 

You know deep down it’s not what they say that destroys you, it’s how the rest of society is easily influenced to believe that. As this self-acknowledgement boosts your mood a little, you hear the door open. Your husband is home and he has a bouquet in his hand. However, it’s not a flower that you’re familiar with seeing. The petals are shaped like a fan and violet, with hints of yellow and white. He greets the both of you as you continue to be lost in a daze as you go up to him and gaze at the flowers. “Hi, my darling. I went to the flower shop today, and thought our home needed a little more colour in it,” he says out loud. Anya runs up to smell the flowers and admires how beautiful they are. Loid pats her head before speaking to her. “Hey Anya, why don’t you get started on your homework? I’ll come and help you in a little bit.”

“They’re beautiful, darling. I’ll go ahead and put these in a vase.” Your hand gently brushes against his as you move to remove the flowers from his hand. In an instant, he grabs your hand and then gazes at you. “I know that something has been going on, and there’s a reason why I picked these specific flowers for you.” He shares a warm smile and you feel the warmth creep up on your face.

“Oh?” you look at him perplexed. 

“I asked the florist what flowers she would recommend. I told her that I wanted something to express all my affection to you in some way. I know you hate roses, so we went with the iris.” 

You smile shyly and move away to find that vase, except now you can’t reach it (darn being vertically challenged). He moves closer to you and then holds you. You’re used to the affection, but this feels different. “I know what’s been going on, and I know sometimes you struggle to tell me what you’re thinking and what you’re feeling. You don’t have to do any of this alone.” He rests his head on yours, as you feel the hold becoming tighter. “I know they’re just flowers, but if you allow, I can tell you what they mean.” 

He reaches for the vase right in front of you to gently place it on your hands. You move to put water in it. You slowly unwrap the paper protecting the flowers, and he halts you from touching them; he reminds behind you. “I know who you are and what you are, I chose you to be with me. You are strong and capable of taking on anything that comes your way.” He kisses your temple. “Despite this, I want you to have faith in me. Please trust that I too will do what I need to do to protect us.” He kisses the other temple. “Please have faith that I can do anything and everything to keep you out of harm’s way. You don’t have to answer to IT, and I know you won’t.” He moves to start putting each stem into the vase. “The iris is meant to be a symbol of faith, but also of hope. I know there isn’t a lot of hope right now, but I do have hope that we are strong and can overcome anything that comes our way.” You work together to put the flowers in the vase, and as they’re arranged to your liking, he holds you once more. “You mean a lot to me, and I could give a damn what they think about you. You mean a lot to me, and I’ll never let them lay a finger on you. You never have to do anything you don’t want and I know you’re tenacious and can get your way out of anything. Just remember that I’m here and you can rely on me too.” A few tears make contact with his hand. You don’t want him to see you like this; vulnerable. 

He turns you around and you don’t look at him. You’re uncomfortable to let him see you like this. He tilts your chin up gently and you can barely make out his face as the tears blur it. “I’m right here and you know that I’ll always be here.” You hug him as tight as you can, taking in the weight of his words as your heart feels full. The tears are present, but it’s okay. He doesn’t need you to be strong all the time, it’s okay to let yourself fall apart. He’ll be there. Always. You can trust him. 

He takes his handkerchief as he dabs up your tears. You look at him with reassurance right before he presses a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be okay, right now. I can get started on dinner on my own,” you say with confidence. 

“Just let me know if you need me.” He turns to walk away, with his footsteps being heard to enter Anya’s room. 

Who knows what tomorrow may bring, but at least you have each other.

[punchspeedchunk]

*VIBRATES AT SNIPPET*

OK but I need you to know that Aasimar Riz AU has infected my AU's and there is now actual writing containing Riz's Aasimar little sister. Because the idea struck me that at the end of my Senior Year Fae Wilds AU, Pok and Sklonda could absolutely meet up in the Fae Wilds, and if they have an 'I really missed you' boink, and Sklonda gets pregnant, well...

Thank you for the idea because I wouldn't have had it otherwise XD.

As far as the Fae Wilds/Goblin King/College AU goes (I like to stack my stories like weird jenga towers made of matryoshka dolls), I for some reason threw down 10k of EXTREMELY niche future storyline stuff in the last 24 hours (Do not ask me why, I do not control the hyperfixation). Regardless it will probs get posted on my AO3 soon with many many disclaimers and a bunch of exposition so any of it makes sense to literally anyone besides @dullgecko lol.

Have a very brief snippet!

Pok could barely wait to break the news to him. He swanned through the door, after picking the lock without much thought (it was faster than fiddling with the keys in the janky dead-bolt), and immediately zero’d in on his daughter, who was wearing her favourite purple and gold-spangled wizard robe. She squealed happily as he scooped her up and spun her around. The squeals turned to giggles as he snuggled her to his chest, still spinning, and peppered her forehead with kisses. “Hooow is my littlest angel today, hmm?” “Made cookies with Cathilda!” She pointed excitedly at the kitchen, where Cathilda was standing with Sklonda, the two of them setting fresh cookies out on cooling racks. It occurred to him that the place did smell divine (and he would know), and even though he didn’t NEED to eat, he would look forward to sneaking one of the treats to share with his daughter as soon as he could manage it. As good of a rogue as he was, Cathilda had the sharpest eyes of any halfling woman he’d ever met. It could be a dangerous mission. For the approval of his littlest boss, though, he would take the risk. But on that note, Sklonda (his biggest boss) made her way over and hugged him and Karikka tight, looking him over with an anxious sort of smile. “How did it go?” Pok gave her his flashiest, toothiest rogue’s grin. “Got it done.” Her eyes belied her relief, slitted pupils rounding back out, crows feet smoothing, and smile turning genuine rather than tight with worry. She kissed him over Kari’s head, their daughter’s loudly blown raspberry telling them both exactly what she thought of being roped into her parent’s affection with one another. Pok laughed, letting her wriggle out of his grip and go back to playing with her toy-town, strewn across the living room. Her aasimar markings glowed briefly as she cast a light cantrip, carrying on with whatever intense storyline she had been playing out with her stuffed griffon, rok, and owlbear.

WIP Wednesday

Thank you my lovely @actual-sleeping-beauty for the tag! your blanket is looking beautiful as always. I shall share a little snippet of the next chapter of Birthday Breakdown because low-key it's haunting me

---

“When?” Riz asks quietly, not drinking his coffee, just holding it.

Kristen sniffs. The air is stale, and still chilly. March hasn’t quite decided to thaw yet. She thinks it’ll come after Spring Break. On the street below, cars race by, leaking exhaust and sputtering like leaky faucets. Her nose is cold. Riz is warm against her side.

“Thursday,” she says quietly. “The big fourteen. You only turn fourteen once, you know?”

Riz hums. “You only turn every day old once.”

She bites her lip and closes her eyes. “Did you know that you forget stuff about people? Like, the little stuff that doesn’t feel important until you can’t remember it anymore? Yesterday I realized I didn’t remember what Bucky’s freckles look like. They change, you know? During the winter. I don’t know what they look like right now.”

---

don't know if anyone's been tagged yet but I'll hit up @rrat-king @dullgecko @harpers-tartarus and @thatrandofangirl because you've barely mentioned it but your au is already making me vibrate. also consider this an open tag!!! I would love to see what anybody is working on!!

[su-talks-about-things]

There's something so deeply sad about this picture.

He's so far from her.

Like he's outside looking in...

[bluerosefox]

Stellar Collisions

Back at it again with a DPxDC prompt.

It does have deaged Dani (Ellie)

Only this time its KonxDanny idea!~

Supernova, Kon's new hero name since Jon took over the Superboy name now, wasn't expecting to be called out to... especially in the sky... by another floating/flying person and-

WOW

They were cute as heck.

Glowing green eyes, and white hair, a bit shorter than him. He was floating in the air with a soft glow around himself as well.

And he was holding a white haired, very similar looking toddler in his arms, only the toddler had longer hair that was tied in pigtails. And the toddler was staring at Kon with large, almost sparkling eyes.

The young man, around Kon's age if he guessed, smiled and floated a bit closer, his face friendly and warm. When the young man stopped he kindly asked "Hey, would it be any trouble for you to autograph something for my daughter? She's a huge fan!"

[psychomusic]

here is tar'x laran!!

also known as cipher thirteen, he's the husband of suri sauthon, and father of vegoia.

backstory under the cut! + more of his biology and culture in the notes of the ugly second pic

tar'x laran was born on the harsh planet of iritran, one of the earliest colony world of iridonia. as the little world (almost as big as a moon) didn't have much to offer, and had a pretty rough environment, those first colonizers were left stranded, they then evolved into a subspecies, and then were found again thousands of years later by some falleens, member of the black sun. they quickly made an outpost there, to better disguise their illegal trades on ord mantell, but with their growing arrogance and power, and the diminishing of their need to hide, iritran officially became colony of the falleens.

his parents belonged to the mercenary class. even if it paid well, and was generally considered an upper class under the black sun's rule, the life of a mercenary was obviously dangerous, and his mother died on the job when he was about 13. his father, instead, had lost the lower half of his legs for the same reason some years prior.

the amounts of credits the couple had earned thanks to their job, though, gave tar'x some time to train before he had to start working to help his family. his father trained him very harshly for a few years, so that he could become an expert mercenary able to provide for his family - now consisting of the two and a younger brother, ram'tha, aged 3.

that was the plan: he'd become a mercenary like his parents, and he would provide for his father and his brother, whom he loved very dearly. it was mainly tar'x who took care of him. ram'tha was a strange kid, too - it's not that their parents didn't love him, or had other business to do, they just weren't naturally as good with him as tar'x was.

ram'tha was a silent kid, he didn't speak a word before age 4 and in a few weeks he started speaking with full, comprehensible sentences, as if he hadn't been completely silent for years before that. he would spend a lot of time going around - or wanting to go around - and for some time, his favorite hobby was "touching new things". tar'x didn't question it and just took him around and watched over him. sometimes he would bring home stuff for him to contemplate. he didn't know what a force sensitive was, yet, and he wouldn't have recognize the force even if it had shown itself through more blatant ways like telekinesis. ram'tha was very good with sensing abilities and was particularly well versed in psychometry, for his age. it was obviously a rougher and raw version of what trained force-users could develop, but it was enough to keep him entertained as a child. tar'x would've understood that a long time later.

the gentless of taking care of him made tar'x life bearable, after his mother's passing and during the harsh training. when the sith came to his town and took him away when he was just 6 years old, he immediately joined the imperial army. his skills as a mercenary made him stand out among the others and he quickly drew the attention of intelligence agents, who recruited him. he began as an informer, spying on criminal syndicates that would hire him as mercenary thanks to his family's reputation.

as he gained experience, his superiors decided to promote him to cipher, and he abandoned his name to become cipher thirteen. he thought that such a position would help him find his brother: without a name that could give away his reasons, and with more intel within hand's reach that any other department in the sith empire.

I'll slowly post some of his most important missions, i already have the one where he met suri in the drafts. i just wanna find some time to quickly sketch something to go with it. I'll link the rest of his story down here after they're posted! (if it doesn't work, he has his own tag)

also! ram'tha is my brother's oc (u can find him at @utskushii-hito), and he made a post about him! go read it!! <3

[pergaminaa]

Modern au

Manorian toddler saying problematic things part 2:

Again, baby is struggling with understanding love because she knows her mama and daddy love her so much and since they’re her mama and daddy and she’s their daughter then they must all be that connected, right?

Anyway, this time Dorian was spared and Manon was victim to her daughter’s shenanigans.

This happened right after Dorian left, having expressed his love to Manon so directly; the whole package, saying “I love you” and ending it with a kiss before leaving. (Because it has to be his fault, okay?)

Baby is seeing and hearing it all, her little brain making connections because her parents are sooooo in love with each other.

Toddler: “He’s your daddy?”

Manon: 😭😭😭

Because honestly how is she going to explain that he is not to a very determined toddler who will most likely make the situation worse (Manon actually listens to what Dorian says and knows exactly how it can escalate if she keeps trying to explain) but her daughter is persistent and keeps repeating the same question over and over and over waiting for an answer that her mother is struggling to come up with.

[denkies]

I know that thematically speaking, Miri is going to go back to Rei and Kazuki. The point of the entire show is found family. But episode 10 SHATTERED my heart into a million pieces and I started crying.

And this is more incentive for Rei to kill his dad. This man is the reason why Miri had to leave, he basically took their daughter from them. Neither Kazuki or Rei are going to just roll over and let that happen. Maybe Rei would have, before Miri, but she changed him. He's going to have the strength to stand up to his dad, because to be loved is to be changed.

[randomfoggytiger]

Hoping against hope that DD reads "The House of My Mother: A Daughter's Quest for Freedom" and brings Shari Franke on his podcast to discuss the dangers and horrendous, soulless incentive of family vlogging.

[hxperion]

//thinkin about how Jack spent so much resources into building angel's chambers and making it the most difficult thing to break in to. Like even if you get past the forcefield that kills you instantly you still have to make it past a lot of loader bots and constructors. which some one them have literal small nuclear war heads, installed as a weapon. Not mention to the BNK-3R fight which was a pain in it self and as he puts it, the weapon he personality created to defend the outside of the chambers. Furthermore he has a biosignature installed plus a voice recongizer where you gotta sound and be him to even enter her chambers. and once you in the chamber he has custom loader bots label as angelic guardians . Constantly being in there to defend against plus the shields he has on the Eridiumn injectors and Angel herself. Like this man did everything to keep his daughter prisoner. //