#eating flowers is not common

[ringoahiru]

KRS!Cale headcanon (?):

Cale likes to eat flowers. Not vegetables, but flowers.

Beacrox: Young master, what are you doing?

Cale: *chewing happily* Eating a flower?

Beacrox: ... And why are you eating that?

Cale: ... Because it tastes good?

Beacrox: *is concerned but is also interested*

Back when he was Kim Rok Soo, when he still worked in a restaurant, he learned that some flowers are edible, some of them are even nutritious. So he tried them and started to like some of it. In the end, he bought books about flowers and tasted every flowers that he could possibly came across.

In the apocalypse, foods are really hard to find. So Kim Rok Soo suggested to his teammates that they should grow some flowers alongside with the vegetables. And they liked it a lot.

Even when he became Cale Henituse, he still has the habit of eating a flower when he comes across a type of flowers that he had never seen before. After he got the Vitality of the Heart, Cale is not even scared of being poison by flowers anymore.

Imagine everyone's face when they saw their young master just randomly picked up a flower and started eating it like it was nothing-

Cale's favourite flower (to eat) is dandelions. Because the petals have a mild honey flavor when it's still young, and also every parts of the dandelion are edible.

[premamelody]

garden, where memories are

context

[mothmiso]

Thorngumbald (2) (3) (4) by Ray Duffill

Via Flickr:

(1) Road to Hedon from Thorngumbald. (2) St Mary's Thorngumbald (4) Thornbirds Cafe     

[queerdiazs]

moodboard tag game 🫧

rules: post a picture of a place, animal, plant, season, character, hobby, color, gemstone, and food that reminds you of yourself/represents you

[place: sans bois mountains, oklahoma] [animal: black bear] [plant: magnolia tree] [season: autumn] [character: eddie diaz] [hobby: writing] [color: green] [gemstone: moss agate] [food: cucumbers and onions in vinegar]

i was tagged by @puppyboybuckley, @thewolvesof1998, and @devirnis

tagging @spagheddiediaz, @jeeyuns, @exhuastedpigeon, @actualalligator, @honestlydarkprincess, and @evanbegins if any of you wanna ✨

[kittykatninja321]

some notes: I made lilac tea that I then turned into a syrup and it had a nice greenish floral taste with a slight lemony note, and it was green in color until I added lemon juice (which it pairs nicely with), which turned it pink/purple

[hamsamwich23]

Flowey watching in horror as Scout bites down on a cattail and eats it and it explodes and

[ilaliya]

🌹🥰

oh, pardon my being extremely cliché with this.

lycoris radiata, the red spider lily

[gaydryad]

Gimme some setting swap!

you got it! in which Karyn and Death have a mostly mundane conversation about being hungry at 12AM.

A kitchen which, Karyn quickly realized, was devoid of things to eat. Aside from a tin of looseleaf chrysanthemum tea and a random assortment of dried spices, the kitchen was empty; with a small frown Karyn exited the kitchen once more and trundled down the hall toward where Death still reclined in the living room. She peeked her head around the corner with a raised eyebrow and spoke with faux levity. “Hey. Quick question.” “Hm?” “There’s like nothing to eat in this apartment?” “No, there isn’t.” Death grimaced. “And as I had no intention of leaving you alone while also asleep to rectify the issue, it wasn’t possible to fix that before night fell. Tomorrow if it suits you then I can go out and see for such things.” “I can come with you. My feet and legs are mostly fine, and I’ll be awake,” Karyn said dryly. “Anyway, we could just go now. Where are we, anyway? There’s got to be a convenience store or something open.”

[starry-bi-sky]

#battinson with chronically ill half dead teenager yesssssssss#I'm imagining that first night he brings danny to the cave and hes just internally panicking#like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone

FRRRR. Like @/that1badassbitch mentioned in the comments, Bruce's thoughts that entire time was just varying pitches of internal screaming. Which I am still wheezing at because yeah, preach. Bruce's pov from the moment Danny accosts him in the alley to him bringing Danny into the cave ranges from awkward panicking, genuine desperation to get this kid some help, a lot of heartbreak on the boy's behalf, and also just pure anger at his godfather.

Cuz like, who the fuck does this?? How dare he. This boy is a child. If it weren't for Danny's genuine terrified pleading, Bruce would've probably had a confrontation with Vlad. He would've lost, considering Vlad's power set and Bruce's lack of and Vlad would have gotten away with Danny. But he would've tried it. (Could've resulted in a spin-off au where Bruce, after losing to Vlad, proceeds to hunt the bastard down to save Danny.)

But yeah, I absolutely, delightfully agree that Battinson is just. internally panicking the entire time. From the rooftops, to the car, to the driving all the way to the cave -- which, after a quick google search, is apparently in an abandoned train depot in Batman (2022). Which is fascinating to me, but I digress. His internal monologue consists of cussing out Danny's godfather, trying to figure out what the poison is, a repetitive use of the word "FUCK", and him going "keep him awake keep him awake keep him aWAKE--"

But like, in a more Bruce Wayne fashion.

Danny is curled up in the passenger seat beside him and Bruce keeps intermittently checking on him every few seconds. Danny just looks like shit, man. Poor kid has a seemingly unending bloody nose, he's coughed a few times already and each time sounds like its shaking through his lungs and taking a piece out. His breathing is hollow, quietly raspy, and Danny sounds like he's gasping each time he breathes in. He's pale, clammy and sweating, but trembling, and his eyes are glazed over, unfocused, and half-lidded.

Dealer's choice here but I'm very amused but also fond of the idea that Bruce, in an attempt to do anything to soothe this kid, panic-clips off his cape and kinda just. throws it at him. Cringes, then awkwardly tries to adjust it so it's laying over him like a blanket.

It works though! Danny, through his haze, cracks a smile at him before grabbing the cape and practically curling around it. He seems to visibly relax, and Bruce silently slumps with relief that his idea worked. I also think he tries to painfully make some sort of small talk but frankly the only valid form of "small talk" he knows is interrogation. Danny's too out of it to mind though.

Bruce asks him if he knows what his godfather used to poison him.

("Blood Bl'ssom.") ("What is that?") ("A k'nda plant. Issa type o' rose.") ("Where can I find one?") ("Y'can't.") (And hear Bruce's blood chills for a moment. "What do you mean?") ("Blossoms went extinct in th- in the 1600s.") ("What? How is that possible? How'd your godfather get his hands on one?") ("Science.")

He also learns that the poison is, horrifyingly, cannibalistic, and Danny reassures him that he kinda stopped feeling the pain a few hours ago. Then he gags on nothing and spirals into an ugly coughing fit. "...Mostly." He adds on.

I have this very vivid mental image of Battinson screeching to a stop in the cave, Alfred's off to the side messing with some prototype gadgets. Bruce's side door swings open and Alfred's in the middle of snarkily asking if he's decided to get a reasonable amount of sleep tonight, only to immediately eat his tongue when Bruce beelines to the other side of the car and frantically pulls a waifish victorian kid with the tuberculosis blood cough to match out of the passenger's side.

("Dear god, what happened!?") ("His godfather poisoned him. I need towels and every medical device we have in here.")

The few photos I could find of the Battinson Cave did not imply there was a gurney in there, so Bruce uses on of the metal tables. He uses one arm to swipe off all the stuff on there onto the floor before laying Danny down.

It's. a very stressful time! That's for sure. Bruce is stuck between trying to get some form of antidote or at the very least a neutralizer to the blood blossom extract made, and also reassuring Danny that he's going to be fine. He's out of his depth.

They do get Danny stabilized though! How? Uh, I hadn't actually been able to think of how up until now, and this is just me trying to throw together an idea up on the fly. But Bruce like, manages to make some kind of 'antidote' that doesn't completely kill the blood blossom extract, but it makes the poison at least forcibly slow down.

[Forced to put a read more because this got SO LONG. oops]

"like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone" <<< is his sudden internal crisis after Danny's stabilized and passed out on the table. Giving him back to his godfather is completely off the fucking table, and Bruce can't give him up to CPS because there's a risk that he'll also return to his godfather.

He ends up, unsurprisingly to all of us, on deciding to keep Danny with him for the time being. At least until they can get his godfather behind bars. And you're right! Danny can't stay in the cave -- it's a half-furnished, rundown train depot. There's a tetanus shot waiting around each corner. It's Bruce's (reluctant) idea to take him up to the manor.

So Danny wakes up in an incredibly gothic guest bedroom, not feeling 100%, but also not feeling like total death like he did yesterday. He can still feel the blood blossom in him -- it leaves a joint and muscle soreness throughout his whole body, and when he breathes there's a weight there.

His confusion over where he woke up -- because it's very much not Vlad's place -- is overshadowed by his frank awe. You can't tell me he hasn't developed an appreciation and fondness of gothness due to his friendship with Sam. He might not be into it like Sam is, but he can appreciate the beauty when it's right in front of him.

#and hes got that awkward silent staring thing going on. Danny's trying not to die and vlads not there anymore#so hes unbothered by it really

Bruce pulled up a chair next to Danny's bed in the manor and didn't move a single inch the entire time. Just. sat there and stared to make sure the kid didn't stop breathing in the middle of the night. Probably has some facial recognition scanner going to try and figure out Danny's last name -- whether that works or not is dealer's choice frankly.

Either way, Danny turns his head to the left and nearly jumps three feet into the air when he sees Bruce and his 'stares into your soul' blue eyes. Sends him into a minor coughing fit by accident. Battinson very awkwardly and quietly apologizes. danny kinda just waves him off.

That's a whole conversation I'm not gonna go into, but to sum it up Bruce asks how Danny's feeling, and Danny tells him that he feels better, but he can still feel the blood blossom poison. So whatever he did, didn't get rid of all of it. (He's still incredibly fucking grateful nonetheless)

cue that "getting to know you" interrogation stuff.

(Danny can probably keep the full extent of his halfa status a secret from Bruce at first, but he is forced to tell Bruce about the ectoplasm running through him since it's the only reason the blood blossom toxin even works on him. Which results in him telling him a.. slightly omitted version of why he even has that in there in the first place.)

(Maybe he reveals that he was a hero in order to convince Bruce to let him out on the field rather than being just support? I've got ideas and fortunately your tags will help me delve into them)

#alfred pretends to be exasperated that bruce kidnapped a kid but honestly hes relieved#maybe being responsible for someone else will make bruce more responsible for his own health

no notes. just know that i'm wheezing at this. my friend @kingcrow01 had Alfred essentially reacting the same fucking way.

#the media would eat it up are you kidding??? the reclusive prince of gotham seen with a mysterious child???#and theyve both got that sickly pathetic wet cat look to them what with bruce constantly being injured and danny being chronically poisoned

FR! I love social media shenanigans and I love seeing it in fic (Lex Luthor's Ascent From Supervillainy To Fatherhood is a really good example of it imo), although i'm not too good at making it myself. Imagining how twitter in-universe might react to photo evidence of Danny with Bruce is going to fuel my desire for seeing people's reactions to things for ages. I am delighted to imagine that dumpster fire. The in-universe memes, guys.

Nobody has any clue what this mysterious Wayne child looks like for the longest time because Danny follows Bruce's lead and dresses in Anti-Paparazzi Recluse Fits. Mostly because he's the godchild of an equally reclusive and influential billionaire figure, and I imagine Vlad would pitch a media fit trying to find his poor, beloved godson.

Can you imagine the fucking SCANDAL if people found out that Vlad Masters' godson ran off and was currently living with recluse Gotham Prince Bruce Wayne? The tabloids would eat this shit up. It's a three-course meal that's paying their rent for the next three months. That's not even to say what Vlad might do upon finding out Danny's whereabouts.

So yeah, photo evidence of Danny only has shots of him wearing a large hoodie, one of Bruce's jackets, and a medical face mask and a hat. It doesn't hide any of the Sickly Pathetic Wet Cat look, if anything it enhances it. But you can see his bright 'staring into your soul like the oracle of delphi' blue eyes, and the black curls plastering his face, and his pale skin.

In some photos, as blurry as they are, Danny appears to be leaning into Bruce's side, seemingly using him as a support. The "antidote" (medicine?) Bruce created that first night was effective, but it wears off eventually. Before they make his medical bracelets, the both of them agree to use the antidote Bruce made to stave off the worst of the poison.

These photos are taken around the times the antidote was wearing off or had worn off, and the toxin was taking itself out of the backseat and shifting back into high gear. Despite that, Danny managed to convince Bruce to let him tag along on whatever shopping run he was on.

Someone took one of these photos and captioned it "Pathetic Wet Cat and his Sickly Pathetic Wet Kitten" and posted it on SMS. It got numbers.

Oh my god, I just thought of this but when Battinson is finally cornered by reporters asking him about Danny he does this:

he internally panics, and then with a straight face says "i don't know what you're talking about. i don't have a son." and then he Flees.

(this blows up in his face because the reporter he responded to never asked him if Danny was his son, they asked him who the boy seen with him was. Bruce is trending on twitter before he even makes it home. He's mortified. There's potential here for a scene between Bruce and Danny where they have that long-awaited 'are we family?' conversation.)

#i know everyone's focusing on danny working as a hero with batman and his relationships with dick and jason and everyone as the older siblin#but im still stuck on early days batman with a teenager to care for and how that dynamic is going to be SO DIFFERENT#than that same bruce with a 9 year old Dick. like the circumstances are so different and hes never bat-dopted a kid before this

NO BECAUSE YOU GET IT. YOU GET IIIIT! I fucking love older brother danny, however the biggest appeal of the "eldest son danny" idea is in fact how he and bruce's relationship would have to play out in order for that to happen. You could argue that Danny could be an 'older brother figure' to the Robins and still not have any familial affiliation with Batman, but the fact of the matter is, simply? I want that familial affiliation with Bruce. I want to see how that would play out, and how it would develop.

I am. a scientist prodding a little glass stirring rod at the potential family dynamic of Bruce Wayne and Danny Fenton and going, in complete wonderment and awe, "wow. fascinating. how does that work? how did you happen? what made you? how can i do it again?"

I also think there could be something fascinating over the fact that Bruce Wayne watched his parents die in front of him, while Danny's parents don't even know Danny died at all. A (once) child with dead parents, and a dead child with living parents. I think there's something to be explored there, I just haven't yet figured out what.

And yeah! a teen is completely different than an 8 year old. They're in very different developmental stages in their life, and that's not even addressing their lifestyle differences. When I made this prompt I mentally kinda just placed the death of danny's parents as having happened a few months ago. To me, it feels like enough time for Vlad's temperament to escalate from bad to worse, and for him to actually cook up that blood blossom toxin.

Danny's at a different mourning period compared to Dick, who was brought in while it wasn't even a day old. Maybe Danny hasn't had much time to mourn his family as much as he's wanted because he's been stuck in survival mode living with Vlad, and once he feels secure with Bruce he can finally tap into that grief he's been keeping on the backburner.

Lots of things to explore that can adjusted and changed as needed! Very flexible.

All in all though, I am a sucker for found family and in order for Danny to have family in Dick and the others, he needs to find it with Bruce.

#and this one has a crazy demon murder godfather and poison blood and a history of punching otherworldly apocalypse-creatures#into another dimension. no parenting book will help.

no notes here other than yeah, agreed, wheeze. The good news is that he doesn't need to be completely afraid that those otherworldly potential-apocalypse kickstarters will show up at any random point, Because, imo, Danny shut down and destroyed the portal before he could be shipped off in order to prevent anyway (cough-the GIW-cough) from accessing it. Vlad's the only one with a working portal currently and he's not as careless as the fentons are as to keep it open willy-nilly.

now the only thing he needs to worry about is the crazy demon godfather and the flora-boros blood toxin in his son's veins! whoo.

#and like yeah danny will want to help gotham and save people#but honestly? with his new limitations and no expectations from a previous robin do you think he would do it the same way?

I love this question! because honestly when I was initially expanding on this idea on my own, my initial answer was "no" due to the toxin's limitations. I had the same idea as you where Danny takes on a more 'oracle' role where he's not out in the field, but he's still helping behind the scenes. I was torn between "logically would this happen" as well as "chronically ill people aren't delicate flowers, they can do things" and a little dash of "okay but i really want nightingale out in the field"

In the end I decided that I liked the idea of Danny actually out with Bruce, and that as a result there would need to appropriate consequences and drawbacks for this decision.

#idk guys he fights ghosts because no one else can#i think he'd probably play a much more supportive role. at least at first. << you're totally right, too. And Danny's motivations for wanting to help in Gotham would have to be different than in Amity Park. Oooo this has good character growth potential.

Danny helps Amity Park out of a sense of obligation right? Like obviously it's also because he's a good person, but ultimately it kinda comes across as an obligation. He's the only one who can, so he's the one to do it, despite the fact that throughout the show he's shown to want that normal life. There's guilt there if he doesn't do anything; he has the power to stop this, so why shouldn't he?

(Oo, doesn't that sound kinda familiar? Guilt over something he ultimately has no control over, but thinks he could have?)

So! For him to choose to decide to rejoin the hero life, and not just from behind the curtain, feels like a pretty big character decision to me. Especially because now, he doesn't really have the power to help. Not like he did before.

He's sickly, essentially powerless because using his powers speeds up the toxin, and equipped only with his wits, his creativity, and whatever fighting skills he may have acquired during his time as Phantom -- and whatever martial arts prowess the author decides to have Maddie pass down to Danny.

He's not doing this because he feels like he has to, but because he wants to. I think that's pretty cool.

You reminded me that ideas can be combined too! It's dealers choice for anyone who wants to throw their hat into the ring in how Danny decides to join the frontline fight.

I'm going to kinda contradict myself here but one of my ideas for Danny going from behind-the-scenes to in-your-face-scenes is just. Batman needing backup for a fight. I'm not going to go into specifics for who he's facing, because frankly i'm not sure myself, but he needs backup.

And Danny, who likes to sit in the cave more often than not, waiting for Bruce to come back, sees this through whatever cameras are available. He's stressed out, worried for Batman's safety. This could be a good catalyst for the overarching subplot of him rejoining the hero scene as well as hey, maybe realizing that he doesn't need his powers to help people.

Danny's warring with himself about what to do. Trying to soothe his anxieties by reminding himself that Bruce is an incredible fighter and good at getting out of tight spots, telling himself it would be fine. Rebuffing the little voice in his mind saying he should help by telling it that he might make things worse. And when his subconscious tries to tell him that he can help, he rebuffs it by saying does he need to?

And there, right there, is what's been playing on repeat for however long it takes for him to become nightingale. Every night: "I can help, but do I need to?" and during this night is when he has an epiphany; "No, but I want to."

it's like the sun peaking through the clouds after weeks of gray skies. He wants to help. He can help, but not because he should or because he's able to, although that is important, but because he wants to.

So he finds where Bruce hides the face paint, smears what he think is an adequate amount on his face -- it looks almost mask like. And hunts down one of the spare utility belts -- he ends up having to wrap it around his shoulder and torso like a bandolier due to how tall Bruce is and how willowy Danny is. he already has a hoodie on, and pulls it up over his head. And fuck it, i'm calling down the Rule of Cool Law. Danny finds one of Bruce's spare capes and tears it up to make a makeshift scarf to better hide his face. He gets some other tools he needs that he knows Bruce uses, and then he's off.

(Bruce is both very shocked and very upset when Danny comes crashing through the ceiling with a faux-confident; "Hiyo, B! You're looking pretty bat-tered, so I thought I'd come in and give a helping claw!")

(Results in what I think is a very funny post-fight conversation where they have something of a hissed argument in front of the half-conscious criminals. "what are you doing here?!" "i wanted to help!" "where'd you learn to fight like this?" "mom taught me" -> which causes a fucking BUZZ in the criminal underground when word gets out.)

there's conflict. argument over bruce not wanting danny to come out to help him. Until danny eventually wins out in the end by pulling up footage of phantom on the batcomputer, revealing his previous hero status, and pure damn stubbornness. Bruce agrees but only after he updates Danny's self-defense and gets him a proper suit.

#alfred cant handle TWO wet rats getting beat up every night lol

singling this out because it's funny and you're rIGHT.

#danny innovating new and better bat gadgets. making good humanitarian use of the wayne money in ways that would make sam proud. #making sure alfred isnt the only thing standing between bruce and bruce's death at the hands of the city he loves

Danny's bambi eyes are lethal work, and Alfred's favorite employ whenever Bruce is being stubborn. Even after rejoining the active hero scene, Danny will still team up with Alfred to drag Bruce to bed or rest. Excuse you, don't make the same mistakes he did! He's the elder hero here!

Danny churns out so many anti-ghost gadgets for Bruce for the inevitable confrontation with Vlad, along with non-ecto gadgets just because he wants him safe. It becomes an unusual bonding experience for the both of them to come up with gadget ideas together and then figuring out how to make it work, and then building them together.

Vigilante equivalent of helping dad in the garage except you're both fixing the car and telling the other to grab them the 3/5th quarter-inch flathead screwdriver from the toolbox.

Danny is delighted to have someone to bounce ideas off of with, as does Bruce.

For the good old "fights are one of the ways ghosts socialize" trope: They have regular training sessions, but it's Danny who asks if they could sometimes just have some for-fun sparring sessions. Then has to very embarrassedly explain to Bruce that it's just something ghosts do with each other to socialize sometimes.

Bruce reads between the lines and sees it for what it is: play fighting. Danny's asking to play fight. There are no parenting books on taking care of a half-ghost teen, but he immediately thinks on a documentary on lions he saw a while ago and agrees.

These play fights more often than not result in Danny being tossed around like a ragdoll and loving it -- he's light as feathers and being thrown up into the air feels like he's flying again. Something he can't do anymore for obvious reasons. Plus the ghostly bonding thing.

I don't have much to add about the humanitarian use of wayne money thing, i agree. It also makes Bruce proud and could help inspire him to start getting more involved with Wayne Industries so he can start using his parents' company for humanitarian use as well.

#MAN imagine the fluff of danny learning to decipher bat grunts#if anyone has experience seeing past the crazy obsessive seemingly single minded focus of a parental figure and to the real love and care#that exists so deeply and truly under and throughout it all it'll be danny

aaaaaa, man you're so right. i was talking to crow about this but, for context, the idea was that Nightingale has a tendency to sometimes bite his opponents. And it's become something almost like a signature surprise move because he has Ghost Fangs, but the first time this happens its during some kind of gang fight between B, Gale, and a handful of goons.

However, the fight halts to surprised stop when one of the guys shrieks out; "OW, HE BIT ME!" and like a spell, everyone turns, flabbergasted, towards the guy who said it. Because what the fuck did you mean he bit you, wHY IS HE BITING.

And there, hanging off the guy's arm with all the smug self-satisfaction of a cat, is Nightingale, with his fangs still chomped down onto the guy's arm. There's a few seconds of silence, long enough for everyone to see what's going on, before Gale reorients his momentum and kicks the guy square in the jaw; knocking him out cold.

The thing that catches everyone's attention is that Nightingale drew blood. They watch, half-terrified, half-baffled, as the kid scrunches his nose up, wipes at his mouth, and makes a noise of disgust. He turns to look at Batman, who has also stopped what he's doing to stare as well.

Nightingale asks him; "Am I gonna have to get checked for this?"

Rather than deign him with a response, Batman remains silent. They stare at each other for three whole seconds, before Nightingale clicks his tongue like Batman had said something he didn't like, but expected.

"Aw, okay." Then without missing a beat, he turns and launches himself like a feral cat at the closest person next to him, and the room descends back into chaos once more.

Man, I'm just imagining them working next to each other on their own personal project, and Danny will quietly ask for Bruce's opinion on something. Bruce gives him a single grunt, and Danny's silent for a moment, contemplative, before muttering something like "huh, i guess you're right" or "oh, good idea."

Danny eventually adopts Bruce's little "hrm" quirk himself, and it slowly goes from: "hey, what do you think about this?" "hrm" "that's what I thought too" to: "..hmn?" "hm."

The ever consistent urge to make Your Blorbo The Most Specialist Character On The Block Ever is forever a plague of mine, and I'm very tempted to say that Danny is the only other kid except Cass who can do the "hm?" "hn" thing back to back with Bruce. Don't get me wrong, the other batkids can do the "Hey X thing" "hm" "okay" thing, and on some level can do the "hm" "hm" thing too, but they can't do it quite to the same extent as Danny can, and its from those years where it was just the two of them.

but yess!! I agree! Danny's got experience with that kind of obsessiveness, Bruce reminds him a lot of his parents that way and he understands it the best out of all his siblings as a result. It also means, however, that he willingly goes in to drag Bruce out of whatever obsessive rabbit hole he's fallen into, if he feels that Bruce has been too hyperfocused on something. He saw it with his parents, and it ended up killing them. He's not losing another dad because of his foolish tunnel vision.

#bruce is so much quieter than his parents but man if danny doesnt understand him. and maybe bruce comes to learn what dannys used to as well#comes to learn to speak his affection and open up so much more. to make danny feel more comfortable and welcome

AGAIN, NO NOTES. This is perfect and yes. I've got nothing to add.. okay I lied, i just needed a moment to think. Bruce isn't the most physically affectionate person, but he starts to be thanks to Danny, who is very tactile. Same thing with verbal praise, Danny hardly got any of it in school or, regretfully, at home since Jazz tended to get all the praise.

Bruce tells him "good eye" once after Danny spotted something before Bruce did, and Danny preened so brightly Bruce genuinely wondered if stars were going to appear over his head. He'd gotten his hands on video footage about Phantom that had shown him doing that exact same thing.

(oh which reminds me. The moment Danny tells Bruce about his previous hero experience as Phantom, Bruce goes on a research helldive to get his hands on everything about it. He's watched every single video showing Phantom. There were very few videos of Phantom that weren't videos of his fights, which were horrifying to watch on multiple levels.

Including but not limited to the fact that ghosts could apparently survive the most lethal of injuries, and he was never going to get the image of Phantom yanking a steel pipe out of his chest out of his head, or him pulling out a broken chunk of glass from his throat.)

(It was even worse seeing videos of Danny's parents shooting at him. That was a long, uncomfortable conversation.)

Another time Bruce is asking Danny about being a ghost, and Danny wistfully tells him that the thing he misses most is flying. Grappling through the city is the closest thing to it, but it's still fundamentally different -- and in some ways more exciting -- than flying. The closest comparison he could give is an indoor skydiving ring.

Bruce, a week later, rents out an indoor skydiving ring for the day and Danny spends hours inside the wind tunnel. He tells Bruce all about the similarities and differences in the car on the drive home, and then tells him that next time Bruce should try it too.

Just, all-in-all, seeing how these two interact and impact each other is what makes this so appealing to me. Especially with early years Batman. And I had so much fun typing all this out, thanks for the opportunity to infodump haha.

#UGH OP THIS POST TT-TT

AH YOUR TAGS <33

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[kavehater]

Kaveh looking sad is my favourite emotion

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader

contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.

part two here. ꒱

⭒ Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a “strategic partnership” as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it all—an empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. You’re not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain you’d agree to his proposal he’d admit that he wasn’t but he knew you’d consider it if he had an advantage over you.

⭒ He sets his terms and conditions—you reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But he’ll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you don’t cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if that’s what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).

⭒ Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always does—Sylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that he’s often less annoyed and irritated when you’re around, and their boss wouldn’t go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. It’s almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.

⭒ Sylus thinks it’s adorable how you keep trying to resist him and that’s precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. “Hey kitten, I thought I’d find you in here.” You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that he’s being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. “Perhaps I just can’t keep my hands to myself where you’re involved. Besides, you’re my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.”

⭒ You remind him that you’re his wife in title only, but that doesn’t discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. “Come here, wife.” You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.

⭒ For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isn’t used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that you’re a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so you’re forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. “There, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.” His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.

⭒ “No fair… using your Evol against me like this.” You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That’s for treating me like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. “Oh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.” And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you weren’t ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.

⭒ As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that you’d be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. He’s everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when he’s not there physically. You’re learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around him—even when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When he’s gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but you’d never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like you’re both in a real and genuine relationship, it’s hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.

⭒ You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. You’ve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himself—a hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. “I wouldn’t have found a new wife.” He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You don’t know what to say, but you manage a soft “No?” that reaches his ears. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to replace you, kitten. You’re it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void you’d leave behind.”

⭒ You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time you’re initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, there’s a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. “You know, I'm still getting used to the idea that I’ve fallen for you.” You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. “And yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think you’re not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.” Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you don’t need to know that right now.

[xhyjin]

husband toji! who would try his best to spoil you, even when he’s struggling financially. you want a romantic getaway? don’t worry, because he’s already saving up, cutting corners wherever he can, just to see the joy on your face when he surprises you with the trip of your dreams.

husband toji! he isn’t the most romantic man, but he tries his best. when he notices the small smile on your face as you watch a man surprise his partner with flowers hidden behind his back, he makes a mental note. the next time he’s away on a mission that lasts too long, he shows up at your door with a slightly crumpled bouquet in hand, looking a little awkward but secretly proud when he sees your face light up.

husband toji! who loves when you fall asleep on him—not just because he enjoys running his fingers through your hair as you rest on his chest, but also because it’s the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the two of you. with a smirk on his face in the photo, he sends it to shiu with the caption, “bet you don’t have a cutie laying on you right now.” it always earns him an immediate middle-finger reply from shiu, which only makes his grin wider.

husband toji! who never expected to find himself in this position again—so lovestruck and soft for you that it sometimes scares him. he’s torn between wanting to bare his soul to you and protect you from the weight of his past. he doesn’t know if he should tell you about his late wife and the son he left behind, afraid it might change the way you see him, but also yearning for you to understand the parts of him he’s kept hidden for so long.

husband toji! who knows it’s wrong, knows he should let you be independent, but he can’t help himself. when you think he’s at work, he’s actually following you from a distance, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re safe. the guilt of shadowing you like a stalker eats at him, but the thought of failing to protect you is even worse. so, he watches quietly, torn between trusting the world and trusting only himself to keep you safe.

husband toji! who finds himself spending money on “useless” and “childish” things like cute plushies or clothes simply because they remind him of you. he’ll grumble about it under his breath, but the moment he sees your delighted smile when he gives them to you, he knows it’s worth every penny.

husband toji! who doesn’t prepare for missions by training or strategizing beforehand, but by taking a long shower using your body wash, your shampoo, your conditioner, and your lotion—anything that smells like you. he sprays your perfume all over his body and clothes, not caring if anyone (shiu) questions why he smells so feminine and sweet. the comforting scent of you clings to him like a shield, grounding him when he’s away and reminding him of the warmth waiting for him at home.

husband toji! who secretly adores when you ask for his help with the little things. need help putting on your necklace for date night? he’s already behind you, gently moving your hair aside, his fingers brushing your skin as he clasps it on, all while staring at you lovingly through the mirror. need help opening a jar? don’t worry—he’s leaning over you in an instant, taking the jar from your delicate hands and twisting it open with ease. before you can thank him, he dips a finger into the jam, tastes it, and smirks, “almost as sweet as you,” he whispers in your ear, walking away just as he catches the sight of your flustered reflection in the marble counter.

husband toji! who sometimes forgets the strength of his own body, so he’s always extra, extra gentle with you. whether it’s holding your hand, pulling you into a hug, or brushing a strand of hair from your face, he moves with deliberate care, afraid of even the slightest chance of hurting you. his touch, though strong, always feels like the softest embrace, as if he’s protecting something he treasures more than anything.

husband toji! who picks up your hobbies just to have more in common with you, even if they’re things he never imagined himself doing—like painting, baking, or knitting. at first, he fumbles awkwardly, grumbling about how “this isn’t his thing,” but before long, he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. the real joy, though, comes from seeing your excitement as you share these moments together, making him realize he’d try anything if it meant spending more time with you.

husband toji! who, after a gut-wrenching moment during one of his missions, realizes he doesn’t want to do it anymore. he doesn’t want to risk his life when all he wants is to spend it with you. knowing it’ll be hard to convince shiu, he brings you along under the pretense that you’re just meeting his friend. as you take a seat beside him, your face glowing with excitement at finally meeting one of his friends, toji and shiu sit across and beside you, their expressions serious as they speak in coded phrases to keep you blissfully unaware of toji’s real job. toji glances at you, his heart softening at your smile, and silently vows to make his case to shiu—because you’re his reason to walk away from it all.

husband toji! who will gladly hold your purse without hesitation when it keeps slipping off your shoulder, or carry your heels in one hand while giving you his slippers to wear, walking barefoot himself without a second thought. he doesn’t care about the stares or the inconvenience—your comfort is all that matters to him, and he’d do anything to make sure you’re at ease.

husband toji! whose favorite hobby, out of all the ones he picked up from you, is coming home to find you asleep on his side of the bed, wearing his tee and boxers, clutching his pillow to your chest. he gently removes the pillow, replacing it with himself as he slides into bed, pulling you close. with his arms around you, he kisses your forehead and whispers softly in your ear how grateful he is for you and how deeply he loves you, even if you can only hear him in your dreams.

[softspiderling]

if you can't take it (then get back) | j.v

summary:

“You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

OR; Your first meeting with the Crown Princes leaves much to be desired.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: jace is a classist guys, idk what to tell you, minimal violence, reader is a dragonseed but no descriptors were used <3 also OBVIOUSLY jace and baela are not betrothed in this fic

word count: 3,9k

author's note: yo to the anon who requested this like a bajillion years ago… i’m sorry it took me so long😔 thanks to my lil goblin master @eldrith for beta reading and being the best sister wife ever🫵🏼🧌

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Silverwing. What a beautiful name,” you whispered as you gently stroked your dragon’s snout, Silverwing pressing into your hand as you stood in the middle of the meadow in your new dress.

When you had gone into the forest to pick flowers for your mother’s grave, the last thing you had expected was to leave said forest on dragonback, soaring through the skies, a dream come true. It hadn’t taken long before another dragon quickly joined your sides, its rider introducing himself as Addam of Hull, telling you to follow him to Dragonstone.

Before long, you had pledged your loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra and were offered a place to sleep, a position by her side. Only two nights prior, you had been slaving away at a small tavern on Driftmark, not knowing if you’d something to eat, now you’d never go to bed hungry again.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful dragon.”

“She doesn’t understand you.”

You whirled around, only to see Prince Jacaerys stalk his way up to you, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“My Prince,” you uttered, curtsying. You had heard great things about Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, and you felt giddy to be fighting alongside him for his mother.

Jacaerys came to a stop next to you, giving you a glare before he turned to Silverwing. You took a pause, not having expected to be rejected so brazenly, but you swallowed your pride, turning to Silverwing.

“She’s a beauty, is she not?”

You looked at Jacaerys only to see him roll his eyes and you felt a flash of irritation.

“She doesn’t understand you,” he repeated, as if you were hard of hearing. “We speak to dragons in High Valyrian.”

“Oh, Her Grace had mentioned that, but unfortunately I have not gotten around to-“

“Soves, Silverwing.”

Jacaerys seemed unperturbed as he interrupted you rudely, leaving you at a loss for words. Silverwing let out a growl, pushing her snout against your hand one last time before flapping her wings and taking to the skies. You watched as she danced through the sky, a look of awe on your face before you turned back to the Prince, a heavy weight settling in your chest. You took a deep breath, collecting yourself. Surely you were reading this whole conversation wrong. From what you have heard, the crown prince was an exceptional man and no one had ever uttered a bad word about him, or held any grievances.

“I apologize my Prince, if I somehow offended you.”

Jacaerys let out a laugh, but it held no warmth.

“You can refer to pure theft as an offense, yes.”

“Theft?” You echoed, confused. “You must have mistaken me, I am not a thief, I’m-“

“I know exactly who you are,” Jacaerys sniped. “You stole a dragon of House Targaryen.”

Aye, it seemed like you read the conversation exactly right.

“I did not steal Silverwing. I claimed her- she claimed me.”

“She claimed you,” Jacaerys repeated with a scoff. “You are a common born girl, not fit to be a dragon rider.”

Every ounce of grace and manner left your body at the tone of his voice, your eyes sparkling with fury.

“Pardon?”

“It is not your place to claim a dragon,” he hissed out and you sneered at him.

“Oh, my apologies, my Prince,” you exclaimed, voice so biting it was dripping with vitriol as you bowed your head “I did not mean to step on your toes. Let me just unclaim the dragon!”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at you, his annoyance clear as day.

“That shows how much understanding you truly lack,” he said and you groaned, throwing your hands in the air.

“I know dragons cannot be unclaimed, I was trying to make a point!”

Jacaerys scoffed, turning his head away. He looked at Silverwing flying in the skies before he turned back to you.

“You kid yourself thinking this gives you any meaning to your life.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, your lips parted in shock. You had heard a lot of insulting words in the years of your life, but never have they been so belittling.

“You do not understand the meaning of claiming a dragon, nor do you deserve it,” Jacaerys bit out, continuing. “You will never live up to the worth of a dragonrider. You are merely a tool in a war you have no control over. You’re a commoner, a lowborn,” he said, his face contorted in anger, stepping closer to you. “A mongrel.”

SMACK!!

Your hand slapped across his face, a reaction to his words that was mostly reflex than anything else, and your eyes widened in shock as as you had realized what just happened, a gasp escaping your lips as you reeled back.

Fuck, did you really just slap the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms across the face like a common beggar?

Jacaerys’ hand flew to his reddened cheek, his lips parted as you stared at each other in shock. You were frozen, not daring to move, fearing the Kingsguard would step out of the shadows any moment to strike you down in retaliation.

When you realized that no knight would come, you spared one glance at Jacaerys before turning to leave, quickly fleeing the scene of the crime.

You had retreated into your chambers after the absolute horror of a first impression. Not even Addam’s invitation for supper had beckoned you out of the room; you were sick to the stomach imagining what kind of punishment Jacaerys was planning.

The glass on the window was cool against your forehead. You had sought refuge at the small nook, your eyes in the sky, watching Silverwing fly through the skies, longing in your chest. Feeling the wind in your hair would make you feel better, you had no doubt, but you didn’t want to anger the Prince even further. A knock on the door made you startle, and with a small sigh, you went to open it. Ser Erryk was stood in front of your chambers, inclining his head.

“My lady,” he said. “The Queen has asked to see you.”

Fear ran down your back at his words. It happened. Prince Jacaerys told her that you had laid your hands on him and she was about to cast you out.

This was too good to be true anyway, it was bound to end. You had always known your temper would be your ruin. You’d just assumed it would be a patron in the tavern striking you down for cursing him out, not the Queen taking your head because you put your hands on her heir.

As you followed the Ser Erryk to the Queen’s study, you wondered how she would end your life. Make Silverwing eat you alive? Burn you? Take your head with a sword? All the options made your insides crawl, and you tried to form some sort of coherent apology in your head, but not a single one seemed sufficient.

As you paused in the door way of the study, Ser Erryk announced you, before leaving. You curtsied, your head low. Queen Rhaenyra gave you a smile, extending her hand to the empty chair in front of her.

“Please, sit.”

Her behavior confused you, you had imagined her angry, furious even. Maybe she was trying to lull you into a false sense of security before putting you in chains. Nervously, you took a seat, dropping your hands in your lap.

“How have you been faring?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft. “I couldn’t help but notice you have withdrawn yourself to the chambers.”

You bit down on your lips, unsure on what to say; you knew it was rude not to speak when asked a question, especially by the queen, and you were desperately trying to come up with words, any at this point, but your mind was blank.

“I thought you would be dragonback. Jace has told me you have a formidable connection to Silverwing.”

Your eyes snapped up at her words, your blood chilling.

“He has?”

Was that before or after you slapped him?

Rhanyra smiled at you, her eyes crinkling. “You sound surprised.”

“I just…” you paused, struggling to find the right words to convey what you were trying to say without outright insulting her heir. But Rhaenyra only chuckled, giving a slight nod, understanding.

“He has been rude to you, hasn’t he?”

You lifted your eyes to meet her gaze, your silence answer enough and Rhaenyra sighed softly, laying her hand on yours.

“I hope you can excuse the Prince’s unwelcoming behavior. The war is a heavy toll and he has taken it upon himself to shoulder most of the responsibilities.”

Your lips parted in surprise and you leaned back in your chair, giving a demure nod.

“Of course your Grace,” you said softly. “I cannot imagine what the Prince has been going through”

“I hope his words will not hold you back from further strengthening the bond with your mount,” Rhaenyra continued. “It is of utmost importance that you study as much of what the grandmaester can teach you.”

Ducking your head, you nodded and Rhaenyra pulled her hand back, effectively dismissing you. The chair scraped against the stone floor as you stood and Rhaenyra turned from you to look outside, the skies blue.

“I have been told this time of day is perfect for riding.”

You curtsied, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of your dress as you exited the study, suddenly energized after having talked to the Queen. Your feet automatically carried you back into your chambers, but instead of returning to wallowing, you pulled your riding gear out of the closet, unlacing your dress. With quick strides, you walked down to the dragonmount and within moments, you were on Silverwing’s back, soaring through the air.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, just as you had imagined, and it seemed like all the burden was lifting off your shoulders the longer you were in the skies. You leaned down, brushing your gloved hands against Silverwing’s neck when she let out a snarl, suddenly changing her directions. Puzzled, you peered forward, trying to see what caught her attentions when you saw a smaller dragon at the edge of the island of Driftmark. Its scales were green, a burnt orange and your chest tightened a little when you recognized it as Vermax, Jacaerys’ mount. Letting out a small sigh, you tightened Silverwing’s reigns, pushing your legs into her side, urging her downwards. Before long, Silverwing landed on the soft grass, spreading her wings so you could climb down. Your landing on the ground was anything but graceful, still not quite used to getting off tall heights but if Jacaerys had noticed, he had the courtesy not to comment on it.

Tugging your gloves off, you slowly approached Jacaerys. He was overlooking the harbor of Driftmark. You had never seen it so crowded, with ships and people alike. Nervously, you glanced over to him. Apologies had never come easy to you.

“Good day to ride.”

You regretted your words as soon as they passed your lips, wincing. Out of every words you knew, you chose to say that? Jacaerys shifted on his feet next to you, turning his head slightly.

“Aye.”

He did not speak more, but you found yourself unable to blame him. You just struck him across the face a day ago and now you were talking about the weather? Behind you, Silverwing was growing restless, stretching her wings with a whine as Vermax eyed her, letting out a rumbling growl. An uncomfortable silence settled over you and Jacaerys, and you wrung your hands.

“I was out of line-“ “I apologize for-“

The both of you started at the same time, before stopping again. Your eyes met his briefly, your cheeks flushing.

“Please, you go ahead,” you said quickly him but Jacaerys shook his head.

“No, I fell into your word.”

“I insist, my Prince.”

Jacaerys paused at the honorific, before he nodded, his gaze trained at the ground. He let out a deep breath, raising his head again. “I am sorry for lashing out at you. I regret my words deeply. They came from a place of anger, not honesty.”

You blinked at him, stunned. An apology was the last thing you had expected to come out of the Prince’s mouth. He had no reason to apologize to you, you were of lower rank. Something you had thought he would hold over you.

“Anger… Towards me?”

Jacaerys laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Not truly, no… You had no hand in your parentage, I cannot fault you for that,” he paused, turning his head away, blinking quickly. “And I cannot fault myself for that, either.”

He seemed lost in thought, and you weren’t quite sure what he was insinuating, but you decided against pressing the matter. The atmosphere was still fragile, you didn’t want to risk overstepping.

“I am sorry I struck you,” you said, glancing at him. The cheek you had struck still bore a faint red, which was not surprising, as Jacaerys had fairly pale skin, apart from the small freckles dusted across his nose. He was quite beautiful when he wasn’t yelling at you.

“Oh,” Jacaerys chuckled, his finger brushing over his cheek, like he had forgotten about it. “I guess I deserved that. I called you some… Less than savory things.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You have the temper of a dragon.”

You couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh, quickly covering your mouth. Jacaerys gave you a boyish grin, so different to the Prince you had met the day before.

This.

This is who you had been expecting.

“I could say the same about you.”

“I guess fire and blood runs through both of our veins,” Jacaerys said and you glanced at him, a look of understanding passing through the both of you, your dragons behind you settling down.

“Lykirī, not lykiri.”

“That’s what I said.”

You were sitting on the floor of the library, your back leaning against the bookshelf. Several books on High Valyrian were scattered on the floor around you and if Grandmaester Gerardys were here, he’d keel over and die immediately.

But he wasn’t here. It was just Jace.

Jace.

It was maddening to think that only a moon turn ago you had struck him across the face and now you were sitting together like old friends.

“That is not what you said and you know it,” Jace mused, his hair falling into his eyes as he leaned over a book, before handing it over to you. “Here.”

Your finger tips brushed when you took the book from him and you try to not let it affect you as much as you poured over the book, even thought it felt like his touch left a scorching mark on your skin.

It would be most unwise to let affection distract you, least of all now and least of all for someone like him. Who knew what may come to pass by the next moon or even the morrow? Even if the war’s end should come, the Queen would never allow you near him. You may serve as one of her dragonriders, but you were far from worthy to even be considered as the lady wife of her heir.

“Lyckiri,” you tried again and Jace groaned, leaning his head back against the wall.

“That was worse than before!”

“Ugh,” you whined, closing the massive book with a thud. “I have been studying since we broke fast this morning. I am unable to learn any more words.”

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Is that allowed?” you asked and Jace only quirked a grin at you, getting to his feet.

“I’m the crown prince,” he replied, offering you his hand. “Surely no one would take issue with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you took his hand, letting him help you up. The two of you languidly walked outside the library and you could feel the tension seeping from your limbs as soon as the first rays of sunshine hit your skin. You let out a soft sigh, your eyes fluttering shut and you stretched your arms out. Jace was chuckling next to you, and when you peered an eye open at him, he was watching you bemusedly.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you sighed softly, wiggling your fingers at him. “You cannot tell me you don’t enjoy the sun and the fresh air, my Prince.”

He quirked a grin at you, dipping his head. “You don’t have to be so formal when it is just the two of us,” he said gently. “You can call me by my given name, if you wish.”

“Me, a low born calling the crown Prince by his given name? What would the council think?” you jested and Jace snorted, very unprincely.

“But,” you started, your voice softer. “Thank you, Jace.”

Jace smiled at youtaking a breath, before exhaling.

“Listen-“

“… is that a dragon?”

Jace whirled around into the direction you were facing, peering into the sky. The sun was shining directly into your eyes, and you squinted them, surely it cannot be a dragon. It was too small. Beside you, Jace blanched, the color draining out of his face.

“That’s Stormcloud. Aegon’s dragon.”

The small dragon seemed exhausted, his wings flapping slowly in the air, almost as if it was dragging itself to the earth of the island, until it finally landed, the small boy ontop of him clambering down. His hair was a stark blonde, one of Jace’s younger brothers.

“Jace!”

“Aegon?”

Jace sprinted towards his younger brother, who met him halfway, taking the boy into his arms.

“What happened? Where’s Viserys?”

Aegon’s eyes filled with tears, and he was tripping over his words as he tried to explain. Your heart ached for him.

“There were ships. They attacked us. I only managed to flee because of Stormcloud. Viserys-“

The blonde boy hid his face in his chest, his small body racking with sobs and Jace wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, his wide eyes flickering to you.

“I-“

“Go,” you urged him. “You have to find your mother.”

With a curt nod, though hesitant, Jace walked back into the Keep with his brother in his arms, leaving you standing in the grass while the dragonkeepers took care of Stormcloud, who seemed content enough to curl up on the warm grass. You didn’t want to imagine what the young dragon and his rider had been through, Aegon seemed inconsolable.

It was much later when you found Jace again, his shoulders tense and his strides quick. His forehead was creased in a frown, his eyes unfocused, so much that he jumped when you touched his arm gently.

“Is everything alright?” you asked him, voice soft.

Jace shook his head, his face pained, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“The Triarchy. Their fleet attacked the ship Aegon and Viserys were on while they were traveling on the Gullet. They have Viserys.”

“What?”

Jace sniffed, turning away from you, his head held high. You wanted to offer him comfort, at the same time, you didn’t want to overstep, so you wrapped your arms around yourself, letting Jace compose himself. He exhaled deeply, before letting out an annoyed growl, shaking his head.

“I have to go.”

Go?

“You can’t possibly mean the Gullet.”

“What else would I mean?” Jace snapped at you; and for the first time since you have made up with him, he reminded you of the Prince that had made you feel so small in the beginning. You knew his anger wasn’t directed at you, but you took a step back, mostly out of impulse. Jace took notice, sighing softly and his shoulders deflated.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to raise my voice at you,” he said quietly. You nodded, swallowing thickly, freezing when Jace reached out to take your hands.

“There has to be something I can do. It’s my brother,” He said, his voice breaking and his grip tightened briefly. “I can’t lose another.”

“What if I go?” you blurted out; Jace looked appalled at your suggestion. You paused, before sighing. “Me and the other dragonseeds. We should go.”

Your own words terrified you, even though you knew it was the smartest decision. Neither Rhaenyra nor Jace could go, the future of the realm laid on their shoulders. You and the other dragonriders were expendable and you knew that, but Jace still seemed hesitant.

“Let me go. I’m sure her Grace will agree,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’m merely a tool in a war I have no control over, remember?”

Jace couldn’t help but let out a laugh at you using his own words against him, shaking his head.

“This is why her Grace brought us in, let us do this.”

You knew you had persuaded him already, his eyes downcast, focused on your hands.

“You can’t even say lykirī.”

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, but there was a faint smile on his lips, so you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Lykirī,” you said, the word suddenly rolling off your tongue easily. “You happy now?”

Jace agreed reluctantly with a small nod, and you squeezed his hand one last time, before letting go, your skin missing the warmth his hands were providing.

“Be careful, don’t fly too low,” Rhaenyra said, her arms clasped. Her voice was even, but you could tell that she was tense, fearing for her son’s life. “I am grateful for your service.”

She looked at all the dragonseeds, before nodding her head, turning on her heel to leave the dragonmount, but Jace lingered behind. Addam was the first to mount Seasmoke, then Hugh. As the dragonkeepers beckoned you forward, you called out for Silverwing. You glanced back at Jace, who was already looking at you and you swallowed thickly, pressing your lips together. What if this was the last time you’d ever get to see him?

Silverwing let out a small grumble as she settled against the dock. You took a step towards her, hesitantly, before you turned on your heel, running towards Jace.

“What’s wro-?”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his words as you cut him off by pressing your lips against his and he stilled in shock before he wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Silverwing let out a deafening growl and you pulled away, your cheeks red.

“I-”

“Don’t,” Jace said, inhaling sharply. “Tell me when you come back.”

You wanted to protest, but the look on his face made you swallowed your words. With a last squeeze of his hand you stepped away from him, mounting Silverwing.

“Lykirī, Silverwing,” you said gently, as she whined softly. “I’m sorry. Soves.”

Silverwing flew out of the dragonmount, and you barely managed to catch one last glimpse of Jace before you were in the skies, joining Hugh and Addam, the latter taking the lead. Despite riding the fiercest creatures on earth, you couldn’t help but feel dread all over. It didn’t ease the closer you got to Gullet, but you tried to stay strong as the cold winds whipped you in the face. Your stomach dropped when the clouds dissipated over the Gullet, revealing an entire fleet of hostile ships across the ocean.

Seven hells, you thought, your breath stocking in your throat, I should’ve told him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: sorry for the ambiguous ending😔pls leave some kindhearted feedback 🫵🏼🩵

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[bogleech]

Anyway while we're on the subject of public misconception towards living things (which is completely understandable because have you SEEN living things? There's like dozens of them!) here's a fresh rundown of some common mistakes about bugs!

Arachnids aren't just spiders! They're also scorpions, mites, ticks and some real weirdos out there

Insects with wings are always finished growing! Wings are the last new thing they ever develop! There can never be a "baby bee" that's just a smaller bee flying around.

That said, not all insects have larvae! Many older insect groups do look like little versions of adults....but the wings rule still applies.

Insects do have brains! Lobes and everything!

Only the Hymenoptera (bees, ants and wasps) have stingers like that.

Not all bees and wasps live in colonies with queens

The only non-hymenoptera with queens are termites, which is convergent evolution, because termites are a type of cockroach!

There are still other insects with colonial lifestyles to various degrees which can include special reproductive castes, just not the whole "queen" setup.

Even ants still deviate from that; there are multi-queen ant species, some species where the whole colony is just females who clone themselves and other outliers

There is no "hive mind;" social insects coordinate no differently from schools of fish, flocks of birds, or for that matter crowds of humans! They're just following the same signals together and communicating to each other!

Not all mosquito species carry disease, and not all of them bite people

Mosquitoes ARE ecologically very important and nobody in science ever actually said otherwise

The bite of a black widow is so rarely deadly that the United States doesn't bother stocking antivenin despite hundreds of reported bites per year. It just feels really really bad and they give you painkillers.

Recluse venom does damage skin, but only in the tiny area surrounding the bite. More serious cases are due to this dead skin inviting bacterial infection, and in fact our hospitals don't carry recluse antivenin either; they just prescribe powerful antibiotics, which has been fully effective at treating confirmed bites.

Bed bugs are real actual specific insects

"Cooties" basically are, too; it's old slang for lice

Crane flies aren't "mosquito hawks;" they actually don't eat at all!

Hobo spiders aren't really found to have a dangerous bite, leaving only widows and recluses as North America's "medically significant" spiders

Domestic honeybees actually kill far more people than hornets, including everywhere the giant "murder" hornet naturally occurs.

Wasps are only "less efficient" pollinators in that less pollen sticks to them per wasp. They are still absolutely critical pollinators and many flowers are pollinated by wasps exclusively.

Flies are also as important or more important to pollination than bees.

For "per insect" pollination efficiency it's now believed that moths also beat bees

Honeybees are non-native to most of the world and not great for the local ecosystem, they're just essential to us and our food industry

Getting a botfly is unpleasant and can become painful, but they aren't actually dangerous and they don't eat your flesh; they essentially push the flesh out of the way to create a chamber and they feed on fluids your immune system keeps making in response to the intrusion. They also keep this chamber free of bacterial infection because that would harm them too!

Botflies also exist in most parts of the world, but only one species specializes partially in humans (and primates in general, but can make do with a few other hosts)

"Kissing bugs" are a group of a couple unusual species of assassin bug. Only the kissing bugs evolved to feed on blood; other assassin bugs just eat other insects.