#new parents fic

[ambeauty]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (TV 2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r Characters: Koriand'r (DCU), Dick Grayson, Mar'i Grayson Additional Tags: DC Titans Naughty or Nice 2022, Day 11: Unwrap Me, New Parents, New Mother Kory, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Body insecurity, Mar'i's Mama is a Bad Bitch, Never Forget That Dick Grayson, Snuck Some Other Prompts in There Too Series: Part 5 of Naughty or Nice 2022 Summary:

She was scrolling her phone one quiet night, she didn’t get them often, but when she did, she tried to catch up on anything that wasn’t baby related. She ran across an advertisement for lingerie. She clicked on the ad and it took her to a boutique and the deep red and jewel tone silks, laces, and satins really drew her in. She hadn’t felt confident enough to dress up like that since before she was pregnant. She didn’t expect to feel that way. She was Kory "Mother Fucking" Anders. The literal Hottest person on the planet, but six months into the pregnancy when she really started to show she became Mar'i's Mama. And she loved that, but she also missed being Kory "Mother Fucking" Anders too. 

bestiessss: @escapism-through-imagination @songbeeart @lyanaalvarado @not-so-mundane-after-all @graysonfamfan2021 @koryvndr @meetmeunderthestarrynight @jonskory @wonderbatwayne @selinascatnip​

[wikiangela]

It's a quiet evening, they're winding down after a long, exhausting day of work, just enjoying each other's company. They're on the couch, a cheesy romcom playing on the TV, Tommy's head in Buck's lap, Buck's fingers playing with Tommy's soft curls.

He's watching Tommy more than the movie. He observes his reactions, the soft smiles, the small chuckles, the eye rolls and scoffs - depending on what's happening on the screen. He's so beautiful and Buck wants to stare at him forever. And he gets to.

He beams, as he glances at his hand, still in Tommy's hair, where a simple silver band sits right on his ring finger, an exact match to the one on Tommy's hand, now casually resting on his stomach. Well, almost an exact match, the inscription on the inside just a little bit different - they both say their wedding date and the word 'forever' but they also have each other's names inscribed. Buck likes to take if off sometimes and just look at the words, trace his fingertip over Tommy's name, still amazed that this is his life, even after over a year of being married already.

So he observes his husband, eyes scanning all over, while Tommy's completely immersed in the movie, the romantic dork - Buck loves that he's the only one who truly gets to see this side of him. He's so cute and gorgeous, and Buck loves him so much and just can't take his eyes off him.

That's when he notices it, and a gasp breaks out of him. He can feel a huge grin pulling at his face.

"What's wrong?" Tommy immediately looks at him, a small concerned frown creasing his forehead. When he notices Buck smiling, worry turns into pure confusion. "Evan?"

"Baby." Buck says seriously, his fingers gripping a strand of Tommy's hair, as he announces happily, "You have your first gray hair." He's looking right at it, just a tiny, barely noticeable, silvery hair. It's there, and it looks beautiful, and Buck already kind of can't wait to see his husband get more of them.

"Okay?" Tommy's frown deepens, this time with amusement. "So?"

"So-" Buck starts, then shakes his head. It's stupid, it's just a hair, no big deal, everyone gets them eventually, it's nothing special. But in a way, it is. Because when they met a few years ago Tommy didn't have gray hair. Because in their line of work, and with their luck, with Buck's luck, seeing yourself or a person you love grow old is not always a given - and it's such a blessing. This, seeing a gray hair in Tommy's hair, combined with wrinkles starting to form on his beautiful face - it's an amazing sight. They're sharing a life together, growing older together, they're able to see each other go through all these changes, step by step, day by day, seemingly unnoticeable unless you pay particular attention. It makes Buck feel so grateful for this life he has, for his husband, for getting this chance. "Nothing," he says, fingers resuming combing through Tommy's thick curls, eyes still drawn to that lone gray hair. "I just love you."

"I love you, too, Evan." Tommy smiles that crinkly smile that makes the lines around his eyes even more pronounced. Buck has to lean down and kiss his lips, then the corner of his eye, making Tommy laugh. "What's that have anything to do with my gray hair?"

"I just really like the thought of getting to grow old with you. Of spending my life with you." Buck whispers, and sees Tommy's smile melt into that soft 'Evan' smile, reserved just for him.

"And you say I'm sappy," he responds teasingly, and Buck laughs. Oh, he loves Tommy so much. He looks into Tommy's eyes and sees everything he was just thinking about. He sees how Tommy wants the same things, how he appreciate those reminders, like a silly gray hair, of getting to go through life together.

He kind of can't wait to start going gray, too. To grow old with his husband.

[foolishlovers]

anything can be a good omens au if you’re unhinged enough

[wandixx]

I've seen a lot of different takes on Fear Toxin/other fear causing stuff (Yellow Lanterns Ring or something)(later just called Fear Toxin cause I'm lazy) but here is another one.

Danny seems like he isn't affected by Fear Toxin because his biggest fear is that his accident changed him so much he is no longer human, he can no longer truly experience human things.

So when he gets lungful of fear Toxin, he feels normal. He was antsy before, because c'mon, it's a rogue attack but it's not worse. Or so he thought. Because the anxiety lingers. Not enough to register as abnormal just this slight hypervigilance that makes you see things about yourself and your surroundings that you'd never realize otherwise. He'd realize he doesn't blink as often. He'd realize that if he doesn't consciously focus, he sometimes seems to not touch the ground. Forgets to breathe. He can't feel his own pulse at time. He'd realize people will miss him when he's walking down the street as if he was invisible (people just don't care about everyone they pass by). When he'd look straight into his reflection, he'd look slightly to the left. Not enough to actually name anything that was wrong but just stretched enough to fall on the wrong side of the uncanny valley. If he just caught his reflection in the peripheral vision, it'd be vaguely shadowy creature with glowing green eyes and white smoke instead of hair. Overall he'd be just wrong enough to be distinctly not human.

For everyone else, he'd be just a dude. Literally couldn't find more normal dude than this dude. Will pass as absolutely normal human unless someone is specifically looking for ecto-ghost stuff. Even most magic users wouldn't clock him at the glance

Tldr: Fear Toxin makes Danny perceive himself as some sort of eldritch horror but not enough to make him believe he'd actually be affected, while from outside perspective he's Just A Dude™

[baekhyunsbestie]

──★ god is a woman ˙🧸ྀི ̟ !!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 sum: you and your husband are completely smitten with your newborn baby, soaking in every moment of this new chapter in your life. but underneath it all, you can’t help but feel a lil insecure about your postpartum body. baekhyun, however, won’t hear any of it. what you don’t realize is that after watching what you went through bringing his beautiful, healthy daughter into the world, he sees you in an entirely new light. you created life—endured so much for him, for her, for your family. in his eyes, you’re a goddess, and he’s utterly devoted to you. and he's more than ready to show you just how much power you have over him.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: SMUT. 18+/MDNI. 5.6k+ words. baekhyun x f!reader. you're a milf, baekhyun's a dilf, and he calls you "ma" + "mama" :'), married!au, new parents, slice of life, angst + fluff, pet names, body worship, breastfeeding kink, fingering + oral + overstim (f! receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, and a whole lot of baekhyun talking you through it 😮‍💨 phhheeeeewwwww

it’s a quiet evening at home. the low hum of the baby monitor fills the air as your newborn sleeps soundly in the next room. life had changed so much in such a short time, and yet, you couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than this—being a mom, seeing baekhyun as a father, holding the tiny miracle the two of you had created together.

watching baekhyun cradle your baby, his soft voice murmuring sweet things as he gently rocked her to sleep, oh!—it melted your heart. he was so tender, so attentive. each time you saw him interact with your little one, it made you fall in love with him all over again. falling deeper and more intensely than you thought was possible. his fatherly side brought out something new in him, something that made your chest tighten with comfort. every smile, every quiet “i love you” he whispered to your baby girl made you feel incredibly blessed to say the least.

but there was something else—a heaviness you couldn’t shake, a shadow that loomed just behind the love and joy you felt.

the changes in your body had been gradual, but now, two months after giving birth, you couldn’t ignore them anymore. your body wasn’t the same. your belly hadn’t returned to its pre-pregnancy shape, your breasts were constantly swollen and sore, and your hips felt wider. you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without that persistent sense of imperfection creeping in. you were supposed to feel proud of what your body had accomplished—bringing life into the world—but instead, a growing discomfort and insecurity washed over you every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection. it got to the point where you avoided mirrors altogether. while brushing your teeth, you’d stare down into the sink, and the same went for washing your face. on the rare occasions you did glance at your reflection, it was only for a fleeting moment before the negative thoughts made you turn away.

you loved your baby more than anything, and the life you had with her and baekhyun felt like a dream come true. but the nagging thoughts kept creeping in—what if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore? what if he notices how much i’ve changed and doesn’t want me the way he used to? fifty percent of marriages end in divorce... what if he ends up finding me so undesirable that we become part of that statistic?

it was a silent war within you, a conflict between the pure joy of motherhood and the insecurities that threatened to swallow you whole.

baekhyun had always been loving, supportive—everything you could ever ask for. but lately, you found yourself pulling away. since the baby was born, the intimacy between you had dwindled, and even after your doctor cleared you for sex a few weeks ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to let him in. every time his hands grazed your skin, every time he tried to initiate something, you instinctively recoiled, overwhelmed by the insecurity tormenting you. it wasn’t him—it was you. you couldn’t stop feeling embarrassed, ashamed of the way your body had changed, of the woman you saw in the mirror.

tonight was just like any other. lately, you’d developed a bad habit of comparing yourself to others on social media. as you mindlessly scrolled through instagram, your feed was filled with photos of celebrity and influencer moms. your curiosity got the better of you, and you started looking through their pages, feeling a wave of jealousy with each post. 

they seemed to bounce back to their pre-baby bodies so quickly, showing off toned figures as if nothing had changed. each post served as a painful reminder of how far you felt from that ideal, feeding the insecurities already eating away at you. the more you scrolled, the heavier the feeling became, your own reflection feeling like a striking difference to the perfect images on your screen. you couldn’t help but question your body even more.

with a heavy sigh, you flung your phone across the room, no longer able to bear the relentless comparisons gnawing at you. it landed with a dull thud, but the weight in your chest remained, harsh like a gray storm cloud hovering just above you. you sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with your elbows pressed into your knees, as if the weight of the world was pulling you down. your head rested in your hands, fingers curling through your hair like you were trying to hold yourself together, piece by piece, before you fell apart.

a whirlwind of love for your baby and frustration with yourself raged in your mind, drowning out everything else. you were so lost in the chaos of your thoughts that you didn’t even notice baekhyun’s return from the nursery until his gentle touch on your shoulder pulled you back to the present. startled, you glanced up, praying he wouldn’t see the sadness lodged in your eyes like shards of glass. but the worry etched into his features sent a sharp ache through your chest, and you could see the panic begin to flicker in his wide eyes.

“hey, what’s wrong, mama? you feelin’ alright?” he asked softly, kneeling in front of you, his hand brushing against your thigh.

you forced a smile, nodding, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “yeah, just tired,” you murmured.

baekhyun frowned slightly, his hand moving up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your soft skin. “you’ve seemed distant lately,” he said, his voice low but filled with concern. “is everything okay? i mean… besides the baby and the lack of sleep?”

your throat tightened, the familiar lump of emotion rising as you struggled to find the words. you didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, not when he was being such an amazing father and partner. but the weight of it all was too much to carry on your own.

“i just…” you began, your voice shaky as you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “i don’t feel like myself anymore.”

baekhyun’s hand stilled, his eyes softening as he waited for you to continue. you took a deep breath, the words spilling out in a rush before you could stop them.

“i love her so much, baek. our baby… she’s everything to me. and every time i see you with her, it makes me fall for you all over again. you’re such an incredible dad, and i couldn’t have asked for a better partner to build a family with.” your voice trembled as you twisted the sheets between your fingers, the pressure behind your eyes building with unshed tears. “but... but i just can’t shake this feeling that i’m not enough anymore. i look at myself, and my body isn’t the same. i’m not the same. and i don’t know how to feel okay with that when i don’t recognize who i am in the mirror.”

baekhyun’s expression changed as he listened to you pour out everything you had been holding in, his heart breaking with each word. he had sensed the distance between you, the way you had pulled back, but he hadn’t fully understood the reasons behind it. he thought you just needed time to adjust to this new chapter in your lives. it was a significant change, and he knew how much you valued space when processing things, but he hadn’t realized it was tearing you apart like this. now, as he heard the depth of your pain and insecurities, guilt tightened in his chest for not recognizing it sooner.

the silence that lingers between you, coupled with your downcast gaze, speaks volumes. how could you possibly believe you weren’t beautiful anymore? he struggles to comprehend it, taken back by the thought. in truth, he has never found you more attractive than he does now. to him, you are a goddess, a magical being who has created and nurtured life. he holds you in the highest regard, without question.

“hey,” he whispered, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “you’re more than enough, and you always have been. you’re still the same woman i fell in love with. and when i look at you... all i see is someone who’s perfect. you’re the most beautiful thing in my life.”

you shook your head, the tears finally spilling over as you buried your face in his shoulder. “you don’t understand, baekhyun. i don’t feel beautiful. i look at myself, and all i see is someone who’s… different. i don’t know if you can love me like this.”

“do you really think that?” he asks softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “that i don’t think you’re beautiful? that i can’t love you the way you are?” his arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “baby, i love you more now than i ever have,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. he pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, “you gave me the most beautiful gift—the life we made together. how could i not love you more?”

you sniffled, your heart aching with a mix of love and insecurity. “but i’m not the same. my body… it’s changed so much.”

“i think you’re being too hard on yourself, 'ma,” he whispers softly. you can’t bear to meet his gaze; the moment you do, you know you’ll break. “it’s only been two months since you gave birth—just two months. it took you over nine to create her. even if it takes longer than that for you to feel like yourself again, i wouldn’t care. honestly, even if you never return to who you were, it wouldn’t matter to me. as long as you, my love, are happy and healthy, nothing else matters.”

his hands, warm and gentle, glide down your arms and rest on your waist, anchoring you in his affection. he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your stomach, his lips lingering as if savoring the bond between you.

baekhyun pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin towards him so you were forced to meet his gaze. his eyes were filled with so much love, so much respect, that it nearly took your breath away.

“you are everything to me,” he says firmly, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that finally escaped. “and this—” he gestures to your body, his eyes never leaving yours “—this body gave us our child. you carried our baby, you’ve sacrificed your sleep, your comfort, everything—and you’re still the most devastatingly beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, his touch so tender it made your heart swell. “why don’t you let me show you?” he murmured against your lips, his hand slipping down to cup your waist. “let me show you how much i love every inch of you.”

you hesitated for a moment, the familiar insecurity rising in your chest, but when you looked into his eyes, all you saw was honest love and pure devotion. there wasn’t a trace of doubt, not an ounce of anything but pure adoration for you—for all of you.

with a soft nod, you gave in, letting baekhyun lead you further onto the bed, his hands moving slowly, reverently, as if worshipping every part of you. a rush of vulnerability washed over you as he slipped off your oversized shirt, revealing your post-pregnancy body in all its glory, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. despite the insecurity that bubbled within, his lips found your skin, kissing you as if he were rediscovering every curve. each kiss, each gentle touch, was infused with such deep care that it made your heart ache in the best way

when his lips found your breasts, swollen and sore from breastfeeding, you tensed for a moment, the self-consciousness flaring up again. but baekhyun paused, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as he whispered, “these are so beautiful.”

he gently kissed your sensitive nipples, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness there. you gasped at the sensation, your body responding in ways you hadn’t expected, the embarrassment fading under the warmth of his touch. 

baekhyun's eyes darkened, a heated gaze sweeping over you. his breath caught as he took in the softness of your skin and the gentle curves of your body drawing him closer. in a husky whisper, he breathed, “god… you’re incredible. this body—how could you ever think i wouldn’t find it breathtaking?” 

you try to cover yourself, but he gently pulls your hands away, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist.

“don’t hide from me,” he whispers, his voice loving as he presses his lips to the curve of your stomach, right where the stretch marks are the deepest. “these marks… they’re so pretty. they’re proof of everything you’ve done.”

his words make your heart clench, and when he places another kiss along the line of your abdomen, your breath hitches.

he looks up at you, his hands running gently over the soft skin of your hips before dipping lower to caress your thighs. his touch is slow, intentional, as if he’s taking his time to worship every part of you.

“you don’t know how much i love this body,” he murmurs, his hands sliding upward to cup your breasts. his thumbs graze over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp as a rush of pleasure shoots through you. “the way it’s changed… the way you’ve changed. you’re more than i could have ever asked for.”

you bite your lip as you watch his soft, slender hands continue their agonizingly slow exploration, your body responding despite the insecurity still clinging to your thoughts. he leans forward, brushing his lips against one of your breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste the milk that’s already beginning to leak from your nipple.

“baek—hah” you gasp, but the sound turns into a moan as his mouth closes around you, gently suckling.

the sensation sends a jolt of warmth through your core, your hands finding their way into his hair as he continues to worship you. his tongue is slow, deliberate, drawing out each drop of milk as if savoring the taste.

when he pulls back, his lips are slick, his eyes dark with a mix of love and desire.

“i could do this all night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “you don’t know how much i want you. how much i crave every part of you.”

is words wrap around your heart like a cozy embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you begin to believe him. baekhyun shifts closer, bringing you face to face, his hands cradling your cheeks. the tip of his nose brushes against yours as he continues, “you’re perfect, and ’m gonna keep reminding you until you believe it.”

before you can respond, his lips crash into yours, a slow, consuming kiss that melts away every insecurity, every doubt. he kisses you like he’s trying to prove something—like he’s trying to show you just how much he means every word.

“relax f’me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with need. you obey, sinking into the soft sheets as baekhyun hovers over you, eyes dark and focused entirely on you.

“you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your side, sending shivers across your skin. he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking out to circle your nipple, the sensitivity from breastfeeding making you gasp.

the sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—raw, intimate, and so deeply connected that it makes your head spin. he groans softly against your skin, his hand kneading your other breast, coaxing out the milk that begins to flow. “ya taste s’good,” he murmurs between kisses, his tongue lapping at the milk that escapes. “so sweet.”

your cheeks burn at his words, but the way he worships you makes the embarrassment melt away, replaced by a deep, aching need. his lips continue their slow assault, drinking from you like he’s savoring every drop, and you’re helpless beneath him, your body responding to his every touch.

the pleasure is almost overwhelming, a slow, simmering heat that builds in your core. baekhyun’s free hand drifts lower, slipping beneath your underwear, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. you gasp at the contact, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“you’re so wet f’me,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. his fingers tease your entrance, his touch gentle but firm. “you like it when i drink from you, don’t you?”

you can only nod, too lost in the sensations to form a coherent response. baekhyun smirks, his thumb circling your clit as he presses a soft kiss to your chest, milk still glistening on his lips.

“i wanna hear ya say it,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding inside you slowly, stretching you in a way that makes your breath catch. “tell me how much you love this.”

you moan softly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “i love it hah—i love it when you nngghhh—when y’drink from me.”

baekhyun groans in response, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. “that’s right, mama,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “i’m gonna make ya feel so good. you deserve it.”

his fingers pump into you steadily, his thumb never leaving your clit, and you feel yourself spiraling, the pleasure building higher and higher with each stroke. his mouth, his hands, the way he’s so focused on you—it’s all too much.

“b-baekhyun, i—” you can’t even finish the sentence, the words caught in your throat as the tension in your core tightens, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and the sight of him—his lips wet from your milk, his fingers buried deep inside you—is enough to send you tumbling over the edge.

your orgasm crashes into you, your body trembling as you cry out his name. baekhyun’s mouth never leaves your breast, drinking from you as you fall apart beneath him, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you’re completely spent.

he finally pulls back, his lips releasing you with a soft, wet POP! making you shudder at the loss of contact. 

but baekhyun isn’t done yet. 

in fact, he’s just getting started.

he glides down your body, his hands leaving a trail of warmth across your skin before settling between your legs. and with a swift motion, he’s ripping your underwear off, leaving you utterly breathless and completely vulnerable. you barely have a moment to catch up, still trembling from the orgasm he just gave you. before you can process what's happening, his mouth is on you, his tongue teasing your overly sensitive clit. a gasp escapes your lips as your hips instinctively buck up into his mouth, but he holds you steady, his grip firm on your thighs as he devours you.

“holyyyy fuck—baekhyun, p-please!” you whimper, but you’re not sure what you’re begging for anymore. his mouth is persistent, his tongue swirling and flicking in all the right places, sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your already overstimulated body.

he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice low and rough, “mm mm,” he shakes his head, moaning into you, “not stoppin’ ‘til ya understand how much i love this body.”

his words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and before you can respond, his mouth is on you again, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers return, thrusting deep inside you.

you’re spiraling again, the pleasure building impossibly higher, your mind, body, and soul completely at his mercy. it wasn’t long before he had you cumming again with his name on your lips, your body trembling as he pushes you over the edge once again.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your body spent and trembling from the intensity of it all. “i love you,” he whispers, planting soft kisses up and down your thighs, “every part of you. don’t you ever doubt that.”

you nod, still breathless. “i love you. i believe you.”

but the tenderness of the moment vanishes as quick as it came. once you lock eyes, you notice that his are dark and filled with something raw, primal. his lips are wet from your orgasm, and the sight alone sends another surge of heat through your body. he presses one last kiss to your trembling thigh, his hands gripping you possessively as he pulls back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"i've missed having ya like this," he rasps, his voice thick with desire. his fingers continue to ghost over your sensitive skin, sending shivers through you. you can feel him, hot and hard against your inner thigh, the fabric of his gray sweats doing little to hide his need. the dark spot of precum soaking through makes it all the more obvious. "i’ve been waiting to be inside you, ‘ma. been drivin’ me crazy thinkin’ about it."

your breath catches at his words. you’ve been so wrapped up in your insecurities and exhaustion that you hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding back. the yearning in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a thrill down your spine.

“oh? is that so?” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, still coming down from the back to back orgasms he’s given you. you feel overwhelmed by how much he wants you, how much he’s been waiting for this moment, for you. 

“it is so.” he presses his forehead against yours, breathing you in like he’s trying to ground himself, but the tension in his body is evident. “you have no idea how badly i need this,” he groans, his lips brushing against yours. “how bad i need you.”

his words give you goosebumps, the weight of his need making your body ache with anticipation. you can feel how hard he is, his dick pressing against you as he rolls his hips, the friction making you moan softly into his mouth.

“well, hurry up then,” you whimper, your impatient hands slipping down his toned chest, tugging at his waistband. he lets out a low chuckle, but there’s nothing playful in the way his eyes darken with pure, unfiltered hunger.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear,” he says, pulling back just enough to slide out of his sweats, his cock springing free and brushing against your thigh. you gasp at the heat of him, the anticipation building with every second that passes.

his hand slips between your legs again, his fingers sliding through your wetness as he positions the pink tip of his aching dick at your entrance. he’s teasing you, slow and with purpose, as if savoring every second. he nudges his tip against you, and you gasp, already so sensitive from everything he’s done to you.

“i’ve thought about this every night,” baekhyun continues, his voice husky as his fingers dig into your hips. “about feeling you wrapped around me again. how perfect your pussy feels around me.” he slowly inches inside you, his length stretching you in a way that feels both familiar and completely new after so long.

you let out a shaky breath as he pushes in deeper, filling you completely. the sensation is overwhelming, his body pressed against yours, hot and solid, and for a moment, all the doubts and insecurities vanish under the sheer weight of his desire.

“oh—fffuuuck,” baekhyun groans, his voice low and strained as he stills inside you. his hands grip your hips tightly, as if he’s struggling to keep himself in check. he thinks if he starts moving he just might cum. and he can’t have that. not when tonight is all about you. “missed this so much. god, you’re so f-fuckin’ tight,” he groans, voice strained. “i’ve been hah—dying to be inside ya again, ‘ma.”

your hands slide up his arms, holding onto him as he slowly begins to move, each thrust deep and calculated, as if he’s savoring the feeling of being inside you again. his pace is unhurried, but there’s an intensity in the way he moves, a desperation that has been building for months.

“you’ve been drivin’ me crazy,” he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot against your taut skin. “every time i look at you, i just wanna nnghh—make you mine all over again.”

your nails dig into his back as he thrusts deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. he’s slow, almost torturously so, drawing out every sensation until your entire body is trembling beneath him.

“hah—and ya wanna know what else i’ve been th-thinkin’ about?” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “i wanna put another baby inside you.”

the words send a shockwave through your body, your breath hitching at the intensity in his voice. his hips snap forward a little harder now, his movements more purposeful, more driven by the raw need to claim you in every way possible.

you gasp, heart pounding at his confession. you feel dizzy with desire, his words igniting something deep within you.

“i’ve thought about it s-so many times,” he whimpers, his voice rough with need. “about filling ya up, nngghh—watchin’ ya grow round with our baby again. hah—y’looked so fuckin’ beautiful carryin’ our child. goddamn.”

each thrust punctuates his words, and the idea of him wanting to put another baby inside you only fuels the fire burning between you. you can feel his need, his desperation, and it pushes you closer to the edge with every movement.

baekhyun leans down, pressing a kiss to your parted lips, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your swollen clit. “i’m gonna make ya mine again,” he groans. “mmnnghh—’m gonna fill ya up, ‘ma. you’re mine—all mine. and every time you f-feel my cum dripping down your leg tomorrow hah—you’ll remember. just. how. much.”

the pressure builds rapidly, the combination of his praise and the way he’s holding you tightly as he’s rearranging your insides sends you spiraling. his thrusts quicken, and you can feel him losing control, the weight of his desire crashing down on both of you.

“oh, yes! f-fuck nnngghhh—baek!” you can’t even form the words, your body tightening around him as the pleasure builds higher and higher. his name falls from your lips again and again and again, your voice breathless as you grip his shoulders, your nails digging marks into his soft skin.

“’m so close,” baekhyun groans, his voice thick and rough as he pounds into you harder, his hips slamming into yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. “cum f’me, baby. i wanna hah—feel you.”

his words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. your vision turns white, body clenching all around him, hips bucking up into his as he continues to relentlessly thrust into you, chasing his own release.

baekhyun’s movements grow erratic, his hips snapping into yours with increasing urgency until he finally stills, his body shuddering as he spills inside you, coating your walls in a pretty white shade. the heat of him filling you makes you shiver, as he groans your name, his grip on your hips tightening as he rides out his release.

baekhyun collapses against you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed lovingly against yours. he’s still inside you, both of you completely wrapped up in each other, the weight of his body grounding you, making you feel safe, loved. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of both of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared release.

“i love you,” he whispers breathlessly against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. “i love everything about you, mama. you’re everything i need.”

after the intensity of the moment eases, baekhyun lifts his head, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. you both wince as he pulls out, the overwhelming sensitivity leaving you breathless. he settles close beside you, propping himself up, his hands gently gliding over your sides. his fingers trace the delicate curve of your waist, drawing you closer to him. his gaze softens, filled with affection as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. his fingers linger on your cheek, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts, the unspoken emotions swirling in his eyes.

“y’know,” he begins, his voice low, still catching his breath. but there’s a depth to it that makes your heart skip a beat. “i didn’t think it was possible to love you more than i already did.” his thumb gently strokes your cheek, and he gazes at you with a mix of awe and appreciation. “but seeing you pregnant with our baby, watching you go through everything you did—physically and mentally—it just... changed everything for me.”

you feel a lump form in your throat as his words sink in, the sincerity and raw emotion in his voice making your chest tighten with warmth.

“i don’t think you truly understand how incredible you are,” baekhyun says, his brown eyes locked onto yours with unwavering intensity. “you endured so much to bring our baby into the world. i saw every moment—the pain, the struggle—but you were so strong. you did it all so well, and i’ll forever be indebted to you for that.

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, but it’s more than just a kiss—it’s full of gratitude, admiration, and love.

“and now… seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist, tracing the beautiful curves of your post-pregnancy body, “you’re even more beautiful to me. so much more. every part of you.” his eyes roam your figure, and there’s nothing but love and desire in his gaze.

baekhyun’s acknowledgment of your strength, of everything you endured, fills you with a deep sense of gratitude and relief. his touch, gentle and meek, tracing the parts of you that you’ve been insecure about, feels like a silent reassurance that you are enough—more than enough. his love feels like a weight lifting off your shoulders, and you couldn’t be more at ease

your heart swells with emotion, and his kiss, filled with gratitude and love. his confession was the tipping point, breaking down the walls you had built around your insecurities.

“thank you for loving me the way you do, baek,” you whisper, cupping his face as your noses brush together, savoring the warmth of each other’s presence and inhaling the scent that feels like home. “how did i get so lucky?”

“i could say the same about you, my love,” he murmurs between gentle kisses that he scatters across your cheeks and forehead, each one a soft reminder of his unwavering devotion.

he holds you gently yet firmly against his chest, your heart racing with excitement, filled with butterflies. each flutter reminds you of the deep love that grows stronger between you both.

“oh, and i meant every word i said earlier, by the way,” baekhyun’s voice breaks the comfortable silence, soft yet serious. “every word. i want more of this with you—more of us. i can picture it: a whole litter of mini versions of us running around.”

a smile tugs at your lips, your heart swelling at the thought of a future filled with love and chaos. “yeah, yeah. we’ll see,” you tease, fingers threading through his soft, dark hair, enjoying the way it curls around your hand.

“awww, come on, wouldn’t it be great?” he continues, eyes sparkling with mischief. “there’d never be a dull moment! and i want them all close in age," he adds, his excitement bubbling over without pause—like he’s the one who’s going to be pushing out watermelon-sized humans. "they’ll be running around, constantly yelling, ‘mommy, mommy, mommy!’ nonstop. 24/7, 365 days a year. sounds fun, right?"

you snort, rolling your eyes. “the only thing that makes me want to do is call up my obgyn and schedule a total hysterectomy, baekhyun.” his laughter is contagious, and you can’t help but grin. “i can already feel my hair graying just thinking about it.”

“fine,” he sighs dramatically, feigning defeat. “just four more, then.”

“FOUR?!” you exclaim, eyes wide, utterly incredulous.

he looks at you like a child trying to convince his parents to buy him a toy, except instead of a video game, it’s a whole team of children. “well, with the one we already have, we’d just need four more to form our very own basketball team.”

“byun baekhyun, do you even hear yourself right now?”

he presses his lips together, mock seriousness creasing his brow as if in deep contemplation. “...three?”

“what the hell? no, baekhyun,” you deadpan.

he chuckles, his toned arms wrapping around you, feeling like home as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. "oh, you won’t be able to resist me," he murmurs against your mouth, playful yet intense. the twinkle in his eyes makes it clear that he’s already decided, and deep down, you know he’s not letting go of this dream anytime soon—if ever.

and as he holds you close, still connected, you know that no matter what the future holds, he’ll always love you exactly as you are—beautiful, strong, and undeniably his.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 a/n: as a leading member of the milfy trophy wife™ committee, i felt this request in my soul. this one really hit home for me, nonnie!!!!! :') i hope i did it justice for you <3 also, i think i’ll turn this into a series—little drabbles and such with dilf!baekhyun/husband!baekhyun hehe 🙂‍↕️ oh, and p.s., i’ll be updating the layout for all my fics to match this one! :") i just think it’ll be so pretty to have everything match hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this one! <3

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[starreyblueberry]

I know we ALWAYS say that Timmy would dye his hair pink or green, like the tips of it or the back of his hair, but what about purple??

His brother comes home from school one day, and he jumps to Timmy right away. Timmy grabs him and spins him around and laughs as they talk about how school was

During this whole interaction though, Timmy realizes how different he looks compared to his fairy family. Obviously he does I mean- he’s human. He’s an entirally different species from them, down to his DNA, Organs, brain, everything! It just feels wrong to look more like the people who barely ever treated him with human dency, neglect him for years on end, and are the biggest liars he’s probably ever met

More than the ones who love him. The ones who care for him, the ones who (if it weren’t for da rules) would wanna stay with forever. It almost stings- how plain his brown hair is, how dull his blue eyes look compared to Cosmos greens. His straight soft hair compared to Wandas almost unnatural curls. It feels uncanny, how easy it is to identify hes obviously not a fairy, and he never will be.

That is, until he remembers that box dye exists, and is around 10 dollars at the local drugstore. Sure it’s a tad overkill to change his entire hair, but hey he’s a teenager! Reckless choices are bound to happen now and again, especially if your name is Timmy Turner. Now which color was the question, should he do blue to match his eyes? Pink and green to match his godparents? Or just bleach it??? He thinks through his options until he realizes he’s still carrying Poof, Well. He did have his little brother next to him, staring at him with wide star eyes yes as he ponders. If one brother is going down why not take the other with him?

“Uh- Poof, if I were too” Timmy slightly glances away “hypothetically of course. Dye my hair, what color would you like” He asks the little creature in his arms

“Hmmmmmmmmm” Poof slightly hums as he thinks, before widening his eyes and smiling

“Purple :D!!!”

Timmy laughs right as he says that, of course! Of COURSE he would say purple, why did he expect anything else? Well he was half expecting poof to say some color that wasn’t visible to the human eye, or rainbow.

But… you know what, it’s not a bad idea, he can match with his brother easily and look more like he’s actually Cosmo and Wanda’s son.

“You know what, yea, let’s go with purple.”

[flashypunches]

( REUPLOAD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT im so sorry )

You're someone who's held great resentment for your godfather.

For your first meeting, for his ego, for his murderous intent towards your father.

For his failure to provide comfort or understanding when your parents refused you as a son, when your friends have left you as a corpse.

You suffer through long years, sticking with him through thick and thin, because he’s the only one like you, the only other Death refused to take.

( The daughter he made, the cousin you mourned, Dani, is gone. She will not return to either of you. It is always his fault. )

Because he’s all you have left. The only one who wouldn't refuse you.

He moves you to a city that matches your dreary state. Vigilantes take residence, closing in on crime. Closing in on your godfather.

Vlad leaves. He doesn’t take you with him.

He leaves you his wealth, a place in a school that makes you miss home, and an order to never speak to the ones who made him run– the Waynes.

He doesn’t return. Never properly. You make due with phone calls and brief visits every now and then. You don’t mind, you preferred this more than his haphazard attempts at providing companionship when it was too late.

Your schoolmates does not like you. That is okay, even if it leaves you longing for friends.

( Sam and Tucker are in Amity and will stay there until they die. They would never come and visit a corpse like you. Not when you desecrate their friend's body, parading it around, like you're him. They know who you really are. They've always known, they just couldn't see sense before. )

But you find someone who could be one.

He is prickly, rude, disliked less, but disliked nonetheless. But he is the only other person who does not care about your worn out shoes, for your scars, your clammy skin, all the things that made your parents refuse you as a son, as sentient— or about you coming in the middle of the school year.

You care not about his attitude, desperation clawing at your mind for any form of socialization not from Vlad or who he calls company.

You make quick work of befriending him, a shared rivalry for an annoying schoolmate pulling you close together.

You learn his interests, his pets, his family. You know his name but do not ask for it. Willful ignorance could be considered bliss. Just for a moment.

He lets you stay at his house for a night, though his siblings push the matter more enthusiastically. You do not see his father.

( “He’s on a business trip.” Daniel blinks, looking up at his friend.

“Who?” he asks, despite knowing there’s only one person that Damian could be referring to.

Damian tsked automatically, “My father, you imbecile. He will return in two weeks notice.”

Daniel thinks of his godfather, of his various excuses over the years to many people, including him. But instead of telling Damian the likely truth, that his father won’t return, never like how his best friend wants him too, an “Okay” comes out in place of it.

Let him bask in ignorance, Daniel tells himself, Let your friend have this. )

His father comes back. You don’t call Vlad when he forgets you. For all he wanted you as a son, now he never tries to treat you as such.

You continue the cycle of avoiding an empty house, of sleep-overs, of waiting for something to happen.

And something does. Your godfather comes back. He lies to you that he won’t leave again. He says that he will stay longer, that the family who tried to run him out won’t succeed again.

You do not think of your best friend. Why would he even care?

Your godfather treats you like he had before, when you still had your friends, your home. Like you are a misbehaving child, and him, the tired parent.

( Shouts of an argument ring from an dead manor, before being shut out to the upstairs.

Daniel slammed the door, not caring if Vlad had heard it or not. Ancients, he'd forgotten how much of an utter fruit-loop Vlad was. He gritted his teeth, rubbing the bruise left on his wrist by the man.

Why'd he expect anything different? Vlad was just going to be his usual nutty self, and go back to treating him like he was still some misguided kid, that he would just come around to playing nice with Vlad.

The wood of the door was smooth, most likely sanded down from any splinters by the past families who lived here. Daniel moved his fingers along the grooves, faintly remembering how he had done this before, when he was better. He bit his tongue, ignoring the bitter taste of ectoplasm it brought forth.

He hadn't thought of who he was before since he'd ran. He hadn't been this angry at Vlad since he ran. He hadn't felt so like himself after he ran.

Daniel would be lying if that thought didn't make him feel just a little bit better.

He let his head fall into his knees, back leaning against the wooden door, limbs sagging. He did not cry, because the Danny from the empty home did not do that. )

It irks you, but not like before. Maybe you were doing something right if he’s treating you like this now, treating you normally. Maybe you’re back to who you were before, before the rejection scarred you.

Damian notices the change in your personality, as you notice his change in costume. He is on the rooftops, in the streets, cloaked in muted colors, not unlike your own old costume, and his family knows your godfather is back.

When you come back to school after a week of Vlad trying to bond with you without success, Damian doesn’t say a word about your godfather.

You don’t either. What even is there to say?

“Oh, I know that you are investigating my godfather, and that you’re a vigilante, surprise!”

You would have been killed ages ago if that was your response.

Your friend does not invite you over anymore. You know why, understand why but it still stabs your core, in the way a butter knife does to wood. Dents it but does not cut.

You repeat the loop of boring conversation, of stilted companionship. You grow tired of it, as you always do.

Vlad's signature is easy to forge. You get to skip your classes under the guise of it being a family emergency.

( Damian is near the gate when he gets off the bus. Daniel's ratty sneakers are hitting the ground, as he walks over to him.

The weight of his backpack feels heavy, the evidence that Daniel had stuffed inside not helping his back. Damian twirls around at his steps, a scowl already on his lips.

Daniel smiles back, readjusts the straps on his shoulders. He whispers to Damian, uncaring of the fight currently breaking out in the front, the fight that Damian is watching, "I'm getting out of school today, wanna come with?"

His friend tears his eyes away from the brawl, looking intrigued at Daniel's offer.

Damian considers the chance. The thought of having to sit through another day of school with only Jon for mild company sickens him.

"I suppose I can, though if this is a trap Masters, then let it be known that—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you in still?" Daniel flashes his (only) friend a cheesy grin, ignoring Damian's eye-roll at his theatrics.

"..Yes."

-

The route to the local park is quick, though slowed by the need to be away from the public's eyes, lest they be caught right away in their venture.

Daniel gasps in a breath, ancients, did he need to jog way more. Damian easily strides beside him, the only sign that he was showing off being the smug gleam in his green eyes. Bastard.

The papers, the records, the flash-drive, all weigh down his back. Vlad has definitely noticed them missing, and he most definitely knows who took them.

But Daniel didn't care, not right now, because right now, he was spending time with his bestest friend in the whole wide world, and he'll deal with Vlad later. )

You drag Damian over to a secluded bench, taking no mind to the mutations Poison Ivy has given the plants near. The backpack is emptied, and you guide your only friend to the path that leads to Vlad's destruction.

The dread fades away, the high of adrenaline taking its place, at the crimes left behind in pieces, put back together in a backpack, and let loose into the hands of your only friend.

It feels good, like something’s been taken off your shoulders. You know that Vlad has anticipated you telling someone about what he’s done. He’s still not leaving.

Your high is running down, as you start to beg Damian not to arrest him, lying to your only friend that Vlad is a better man, and doesn't deserve to rot in a cell. You know that when you take a separate route to your homes, that he’ll tell anyway.

You can’t bring yourself to care. Vlad’ll just weasel out of it, as he always does.

He knows what you did, doesn’t bring it up, with the only sign being a watchful eye whenever you’re back in his grasp.

You get invited to a gala by your friend. You accept, uncaring of Vlad's reaction.

Your friend gets held ransom. No one’s worried, no one feels anything but annoyance. You stay away, not wanting to feel your core straining to help, to protect.

The Bats swoop in to help. You ignore the envy at their luck at having a team of other heroes to depend on.

( Your friend ) The Waynes send people after your godfather. He tries to bribe his way out of the charges, out of the jail cell that cannot hold him. They leave with him in tow.

You start staying overnight at your friend’s house even more. Damian doesn’t say a word about it.

His father does. His siblings do.

They talk about adopting you, they fight about Vlad, about what they are meant to do with your godfather, and what to do with poor old Danny. You don’t listen in much. They remind you of your parents, just a little bit. It hurts.

Vlad is let go. False charges, apparently. You know he just bribed the judge and juries.

He wants to talk to you, intent on having a conversation that lasts more than five minutes without shouting and tears ending it.

I'm sorry for not being there, please, give me forgiveness, are the only things you remember from the conversation. You do not give him what he wants, but the conversation doesn't end in slammed doors and withheld tears.

You sleep under his roof for the first time in weeks, the most civil conversation you’ve ever been with him looping in your mind. You even wonder if he’ll let you go to your friend’s birthday party.

You don’t sleep at your friend’s house as much. There’s not much need to anymore.

You wake up one night, to hear the sounds of ectoblasts and footsteps. They are on the roof, and you know what they’re here for.

You go ghost, going up the roof, watching invisibly as Plasmius shoots at the vigilantes who yell about something. You stay like that for a moment. You almost decide to let him go.

He's the only one you have left, to leave him, to abandon him, is to leave the last person in your corner. That thought is the only reason why you lift your thermos up, capturing Vlad in one fell swoop, before he leaves too.

The vigilantes are not pleased, as the Bat barks out orders to find you. You can imagine Vlad is the same, fuming at your disrespect inside the can.

With Vlad in your thermos, the Bats on your tail, there is no hope in your mind of getting out of Gotham with everything you need.

Oh Danny, what are you going to do?

[flamingpudding]

Inherited Driving

A/N: Credits also to @escelia 💖 Thanks for helping flash out this idea even more!!

Bruce Wayne was going crazy about Gotham's newest rogue. He stared at the open case file, the reports were laid out all over the table. On the Batcomputer various images were displayed. Images from bent light posts, street sights that were found three blocks from their original position, buildings that were missing chunks of their walls, and even buildings that had distinct car-shaped holes.

Next to that various reports were open about hit-and-run cases. None appeared to be connected. All the victims appeared to be chosen at random, good or bad didn't matter. No connections. Mugger, Politicians, other rogues, or even his children when on patrol. And then there were also reports of apparently people going insane claiming they had seen a silver car come right at them but never hit them.

He looked at the reports of his children.

Jason complains about a drug deal busted by a car bursting in and nearly ruined it for him by knocking out the main targets before crashing through the opposite wall.

Tim claimed that the corrupted CEO he had been investigating both as Red Robin as well as Tim Drake-Wayne got run over on the open streets and was now hospitalized.

But the most absurd reports came from Dick and Duke.

Dick one night reported that a silver car barely missed him while out on patrol. Nothing strange so far. If his son hadn't reported that he was jumping over roofs when it happened.

And Duke? He just reported that he felt like he had a near-death experience and saw his life flashing before his eyes. The cause? A glowing car came straight at him.

Bruce gripped his hair in frustration. This new rogue didn't make sense. They went for bad guys but also good guys? What was their pattern? The connection? Their goal? Was he lucky that none of his other children had so far encountered them on patrol?

They appeared at night as well as during the day.

Who was going to be the next target? Would it be one of his kids or possibly another corrupted politician or maybe even a mugger again next?

Tim had specifically created software to keep track of this rogue in the news or any online posts. Barbara was not able to get any video feeds or photos of this rogue for some reason. All images or videos found for the areas of his appearance were either entirely static or corrupted to the point of unrecognizability. He didn't even have the damned silver car's license plate!

Then there was the car driver's description from witnesses, which also varied from person to person. One stated him to be black-haired and blue-eyed looking like a tired College Student, another stated the man had white hair and green glowing eyes and lastly a more crazy person stated it was like an Eldritch being possessing the car.

The software peeped and Bruce turned to click on it, a news article appeared and the man groaned at what he read.

Breaking news: Scarecrow in custody after getting hit by car through Starbucks!

Witnesses say that during what was shaping up to be a fear gas attack, the driver hit the man before swerving through the front window of a Starbucks.After confirming everyone was okay, the baristas on shift gave the driver an iced coffee and a croissant while waiting for the police to arrive on scene. One employee even insisted this reckless driver saved their lives. [...]

Bruce closed the news, not reading any further and ready to slam his head onto the table. Who was this rogue?

Danny blinked at the newspaper in his hand, sipping his coffee and wondering who that driver was. He would have to be more careful now on the streets with a driver like that, that's fine. Jazz wouldn't probably call him soon again to nag about these crazy drivers Gotham appeared to have. She had been naggingly worried ever since he started going to college here. He just had to assure her that he would be even more careful to not get involved. Though his parents had already reinforced his car as a stay-safe-son measure. So he would just have to get in the car, drive from point A to point B and not hit anyone or anything like his parents.

He glanced at his kitchen clock and spat out his morning coffee.

"Shit! I am going to be late for my classes!"

In a rush he grabed his keys and ran to his car. He needed to hurry if he wanted to be there in time without upsetting his professor. Good that he learned about some pretty neat short cuts from his classmates.

[earl-grey-teacake]

Awww I love your baby loscar au so much!

I can't stop thinking about how you said Logan is a more nervous baby and gets over stimulated at the races and I've just got the image of his first GP and George and Alex are kinda optimistic because he's been quite an easy baby so far but they barely make it an hour into media day before Logan has the worst meltdown ever! There's too many people around, its noisy and he gets too warm in his onsie and is just screaming! Poor George and Alex get flustered which obviously only makes Logan worse

Thank you so much! I'm so happy you love it! Sorry it took so long to reply! 😅

If anyone has ever taken or seen a baby at their first crowded event, it's a lot. It's like taken a newborn on their first flight. They're in pain and uncomfortable and the parents are so panicked that it scares the baby even more. I have all the sympathy in the world for them.

Logan is taken to his first GP 1.5 months after they adopted him. They wanted him to get situated and comfortable with them and the teams in Grove and Brackley before attending a GP. When asking team members, they were given a variety of advice. Some said their child slept the whole time and was unaware/uncaring about the crowds while other's said they couldn't bring their kids since it would be too much for them.

Logan was also nervous with the teams but he quickly got used to them. However, the caveat for Logan was that his parents were in eyesight. So going into media day, it was Logan, Alex, and George. They had also hired a nanny in case. The cameras and reporters crowded them, obviously all curious about the newest little addition to the paddock. Logan just hid his face in George's arms as they walked through.

It was a hot day and babies don't have the greatest temperature regulation so he is slowly heating up. however, they get into the hospitality before Logan can get too fussy. Logan is left at Williams and the nanny takes over. At first it was going fine, the baby was fed, changed and nap and Alex is back and forth watching him.

It isn't until an hour before media commitment that Logan has the mother-of-all meltdowns. Alex, George and Logan were having lunch outside when the noise, and heat, and just the presence of other people sent Logan into a fit of crying.

Screaming, wailing, refusing to be soothed. It was all there at the two, who thought they had been doing so well were unable to comfort their child. At some point, Logan's cries would die down into a coughing fit before starting again. Alex is starting to panic and George genuinely thinks there might be something wrong and they have to go to the medic tent immediately.

There's about 15 minutes left before both of them have to make it to media commitment when the nanny takes over and sends them to wash up. Alex needs to splash cold water on his face from how red and puffy his eyes are and George needed that and a change of clothes.

The pair spent the next 2 hours of media duties the most anxious they have ever been. Alex isn't as talkative and George is fumbling over words, both concerned with the baby they left behind. By the time they get back, Logan is in new clothes and had been put down for a nap.

After this, Logan spends most of his time in the drivers room or just with the Williams team. They limit the amount of time he is outside and tend to eat lunch in their own driver rooms or motor homes. It was mainly through practice and Jenson Button's kidnapping attempts that helped Logan be more comfortable around people. They also pair him up with Oscar in hopes of making certain places easier for both babies to get used to.

Thank you for sending the ask🥰

[triglycercule]

nightmare viewing the murder time three as little toys but more in like a little spoiled kid kinda way. because it would be funny and if you take into the account that he was like 6 before getting corrupted and do some mental loopholes it would be even funnier. like these are his dolls (killer dust and horror) and this is their barbie dreamhouse (his castle). they all have to stay in one room because nightmare needs to keep his toys in a toy box. the toys only ever come out when he wants to play but oh damn it they keep on breaking out!! silly toys,,, and then he locks them into the room again.

nightmare serves them food with plastic tea cups and plastic plates and there is no food. there is no tea. they have to imagine the food because dolls can't literally eat. there are food containers and stuff in the house but its all just a bunch of empty boxes. horror starts tweaking out after he scavenges the kitchen and finds a cereal box and milk carton that have NOTHING in it (why keep empty boxes?????)

they have to go where he wants them to go. nightmare gets to dress them up in whatever he wants because theyre his dolls they can wear anything he wants. it gets incredibly embarrassing when the trio is forced to wear pink pretty dresses and fight like that. or they have to go around the castle doing stupid fucking roleplays and it gets weird because theyre being forced to reenact a bullying scene and nightmare's giving them the death stare if they don't get it right (is this projection. this must be some form of coping mechanism dust theorizes)

and then you know nightmare's not exactly the best toy owner so he loses a few of his dolls here and there. maybe they get destroyed when he was playing a bit too rough with them! (killer dies in battle for like the 29th time) but its okay because he can just go back on down to the store (something new) and buy. wait no. steal another doll and then put it back in his dreamhouse and BOOM he has a full set again!! so sweet so cute. his dolls don't have consciousness what are you talking about theyre begging to be let go?? that's all just your imagination. what do you mean you're asking about the several slowly dying bodies with removed arms or legs in his dungeon. oh that's just where the broken but not yet destroyed toys go dw theyre fine its humane

[marragurl]

Not the first to say it, but damn can’t believe Galladay really went from toxic yaoi to doomed tragic yaoi.

Alright fellow Galladay trash, where’s the modern AU fix-it fics?

I need to see Gallagher single dad with Misha plus their dog/cat Sleepie falling for entertainment company CEO Sunday. Don’t ask me how they met, fuck it, throw in bodyguard AU Gallagher who works part-time at a bar, boom there that’s how they meet, idk I’m making this up on 3 hours of sleep.

You’ve heard of slow burns, now get ready for Galladay blaze it.

They’re speedrunning the relationship from hate -> annoyance -> mild disgruntlement -> weirdly vibing -> ok wow never knew I needed that in my life -> Sunday is way too ok with spoiling Misha -> ok so we got married -> alright we’re dismantling the government now -> Sunday went to jail for 5 minutes for attempting “peaceful” world domination, don’t worry we (Gallagher) forgave him -> Sunday’s stepping down as CEO to run a coffeeshop idk look someone get him some therapy -> Robin is president now while she still goes on tours -> Misha won an engineering competition while this was all going on

Bottom line: Robin is out living her best life while Sunday is in the back somehow having the most insane week of his life. I have no other notes for her here except that she is happy, and successful, and is Sunday’s last remaining brain cell. She and Misha are having some fun Aunt/Nephew bonding times while Galladay are accidentally-on-purpose committing multiple war crimes.

No, we don’t have time to unpack 2.2 and all its trauma, we cope with modern AU :)

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two (you're here!)

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

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

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

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

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

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

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

[kawareo]

The bg3 community has a big problem with not thinking the characters are pansexual, when they clearly are, here's all the bad takes i've heard (this from queer people) on tiktok/twitter/etc "Minthara is a lesbian and HATES men" "Gale only like women, and only feminine ones" "Wyll is a gentleman, he would only date women" "Karlach clearly only has dialogue talking about men because of her heteronormative upbringing" These people are insane

Where is that post about how bitchy or mean women in media are always headcanoned as lesbians

Minthara hating men is funny to me though because ingame she openly admires and respects both Ketheric and Gortash for their leadership and/or war mindset

Gale 'i quite enjoy your musk' Dekarios suuure likes only femenine women

I'm standoffish around Wyll so I might be reaching here, but to me it sounds like calling him a Gentleman is just a nicer way of calling him boring. (Also, why couldn't a gentleman date a man??) But also Wyll openly fawns over how pretty Astarion is and about Halsin, more than once, and that's just from the top of my head

Oh wow, a big muscular lady is a lesbian? Call the news, we have something groundbreaking. (I'm still playing a Wylach romance so I do have a bias but cmon) Idk what heteronormative upbringing they're talking about though. Having a mom and a dad? In a world where homophobia doesn't exist and never has? It's so stupid, especially with Karlach whos whole thing is being open and honest about her feelings; but sure, make up straws to reach for that explain away her straight up stating that she wants to fuck a specific man

Headcanons are one thing (like personally, i see Minthara as being slightly more into women than she is into men, and opposite with Karlach) but ffs I don't get it why people need to argue about canon so much when it's literally spelled out for them

Tbh I didn't know this was such a big problem, but i guess it just means I'm happy here in my oblivious corner where people make sense

[peacerisendove]

Other FOP related thoughts I've had this week sparked by the finale:

If Juandissimo was Wanda's ex-boyfriend and still in love with her enough that he tries to win her back, would that mean by following the rule of opposites/parallels Anti-Juandissimo was Anti-Cosmo's ex and is still so in love with him to the point he still tries to flirt and win him back?

Just consider if that was the case, would that then mean Anti-Juandissimo has absolutely no charm and rizz to the point he becomes charming to Anti-Cosmo?

I personally think it would be so fun and funny if that was the case, but also just seeing Anti-Wanda being in the same sort of position as Cosmo and trying to impress Anti-Cosmo all over again despite the fact they've probably been married forever and there would be nothing to worry about in their relationship would be sweet.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

I need Billy to get Clark Kent-ed in a fic and sent to cover a Wayne gala

Billy and Bruce meet, names are exchanged, and Bruce worries if this kid is doing okay and if there’s a father position open. Billy is there for some Wayne-Sivana partnership with Magnificus, asking a lot of well informed questions and acting like a little cherub.

Them bad guys break in, one has a gun to Billy’s head and Billy, in true street kid fashion and with the experience from his last 57 kidnapping attempts; bites the hand over his mouth, throws the guy whose twice his size over himself and twists his arm, and dismantles the gun before Batman swoops in and saves the rest of the day.

Batman checks on him, asking if he’s okay, and Billy drops the good kid act and straight up tells him to piss off because he’s not getting adopted by a furry man-child who lives a state away from his hometown

Any Robin or sidekick that was there just cheers the kid on from the roof top screaming “DODGED THAT BULLET!” after having spent the whole gala trying to keep them apart before Bruce could bust out the adoption papers