#while also developing their relationship in the present day

[savethecolytecampaign]

Acolyte fandom, today we’re going to talk about Qimir!! What were your favorite moments? 😍😍😍

Qimir is fascinating. I love every scene with him. We first see him as a clumsy yet kind-hearted man, then as a strong, cold, and calculating one, and later as a vulnerable and charming lover. But what I want to see the most is his role as a mentor with Osha. He's an incredibly complex and multifaceted character!

The quotes he delivers, his personalities—everything about him is captivating. Qimir is a great character, very interesting. Leslye really did an incredible job assembling the entire cast of The Acolyte.

One of the things that impresses me the most about Manny is the chemistry he has with Amandla. Just watching the way Qimir interacts with Mae and Osha, you can immediately notice the difference. It's impressive! It's fantastic! Their performances are incredible, and it only highlights their dynamic even more.

As The Stranger, he's so intimidating, so strong, and always spitting out the truth. It was the first time I truly felt a strong connection with someone from the dark side. And that’s the point—because not everyone is evil for no reason, we’re all shades of gray. Giving that depth to both the Jedi and to him was really well done and exciting.

Manny trained for such a long time for his role as Qimir, and you can tell. His skill is amazing, and watching him do almost all his scenes, portraying this villain who, even though we knew it was him, the way they present him is really what matters. It was so impactful!

I especially love the dual choreography in his fight scenes, something that's rarely done well, especially when one fights against two at once. And the fight between Qimir and Master Sol in the last episode was incredible!! Manny’s performance was outstanding, as was the entire cast's. What an incredible job!

Something I want to emphasize is that, while this man is physically attractive, what really captivates women is how he understands Osha, how he listens to her and understands her. He’s a vulnerable man who talks to her, who’s kind, who gives her choices, and who considers her at all times. One of my favorite scenes is the entire episode 6 (because there are so many reasons I love this episode!). Every interaction between Qimir and Osha in that episode is amazing. He always gives her a choice. He makes her face herself, heals her wounds, sets her free, and sees her. He understands her because he has lost everything too. In contrast, to talk Sol and Mae, he has to knock them out and tie them up. Although I won’t deny it, that scene is chilling, especially when Sol tells him she won’t hurt him, but the first thing she does when she runs away is to chase her and try to take her down.

I love Qimir, and I want to see more of him in that role, but I also want to see more of his vulnerable side, to understand what led him to the dark side. I’m curious to know how he found Mae and how his training began. I want to see more of this magnificent duo. I also want to see more of the relationship between Osha and Qimir, both as master and pupil, and in their lovers’ role.

Qimir is a character full of nuances, and I love how Leslye did such a great job, a role only Manny could have played so perfectly. The whole cast did amazing work. What I love most is how Manny and Amandla would get excited every day to be on Star Wars. You can clearly see the passion and love they have for the saga!

It’s very important to mention that there is no Qimir without Osha or Mae, because his life is deeply connected to theirs since Qimir decided to train Mae. There is still a part of his story we don’t know, but once we learn about his past with Vernestra and Sol, we’ll truly see that his journey revolves around training Mae and then Osha. This relationship is crucial to the development of all their stories, and it's a key element we want to explore—the important bond between them.

[whenthegoldrays]

So the more I tinker with Hardwick House, the more I feel that the story I want to tell doesn’t really lend itself to the novel format? I’m trying to tell a more episodic story, little moments all coming together to form a big picture, so I feel that it’d work best as a tv show or a webtoon or perhaps a series of graphic novels or novellas.

(A webtoon or graphic novel series actually sounds amazing, but that involves, you know, artistic skills which I don’t have 😅)

[gingergari]

i honestly do not think i will be able to draw all of these guys in time so here are my main splat ocs and their team alignments!

maybe i’ll draw the winning team members 🤞🏽

[luna-azzurra]

The Villain Checklist!

Creating a villain is a delicate art, much like crafting a masterpiece. To ensure your antagonist leaps off the page with depth, consider these essential elements for your villain checklist:

Motivation: Every great villain is driven by a potent motivation, one that fuels their actions and sets them on their dark path. Explore their backstory and unearth the core reason behind their villainy. Are they seeking power, revenge, redemption, or something more sinister?

Complexity: Gone are the days of one-dimensional villains twirling mustaches and cackling maniacally. Infuse your antagonist with layers of complexity and nuance. Perhaps they possess redeeming qualities or wrestle with inner conflicts that humanize their actions.

Flaws and Vulnerabilities: Despite their nefarious intentions, villains should be flawed beings with vulnerabilities. These weaknesses not only add depth to their character but also create opportunities for conflict and growth throughout your story.

Backstory: Delve into your villain's past to uncover formative experiences that shaped their present disposition. Trauma, betrayal, or societal pressures can all contribute to their descent into villainy, providing rich narrative fodder for exploration.

Goals and Ambitions: Just as heroes strive for noble objectives, villains pursue their own twisted goals with fervor and determination. Define what your antagonist hopes to achieve and the lengths they're willing to go to attain it, even if it means sacrificing everything in their path.

Antagonistic Traits: From cunning intellect to ruthless brutality, equip your villain with traits that make them a formidable adversary for your protagonist. Consider how their strengths and weaknesses complement each other, creating dynamic conflicts that propel your story forward.

Relationships and Alliances: Villains don't operate in isolation; they forge alliances, manipulate allies, and cultivate relationships to further their agendas. Develop the connections your antagonist shares with other characters, be they loyal minions or reluctant collaborators, to add depth to their character dynamics.

Moral Justification (from their perspective): While their actions may be abhorrent to society, villains often believe they're justified in their pursuits. Explore your antagonist's moral code and the twisted logic that rationalizes their behavior, offering readers insight into their twisted worldview.

Arc of Transformation: Just as protagonists undergo arcs of growth and change, villains should experience their own journey of transformation. Whether it's redemption, downfall, or something altogether unexpected, chart the evolution of your antagonist throughout the narrative.

Memorable Traits: Give your villain distinctive traits or quirks that leave a lasting impression on readers. Whether it's a chilling catchphrase, a distinctive appearance, or a haunting backstory, give your antagonist elements that linger in the minds of your audience long after they've closed the book.

[space-dreams-world]

Another Twin Au: D and T: Danyal And Talia

Also, potential Spirit Halloween.

Ra's had two children, Danyal Al Ghul and Talia Al Ghul, the Demon's Daughter and the Demon's Son. Talia might have been firstborn, but she was neglected over her father favoring Danyal.

Danyal was treated better than she was, and while Danyal didn't understand Talia's jealousy, he still tried to help her. Like for instance, Talia had a fight to prove her loyalty to the Al Ghul line and was tasked to fight to the death, Danyal seeing how tired she was from training, he poisoned the fighters, so that his sister could win and survive.

Even when Ra's schemed to transfer his mind into Danyal's body, he was overwhelmed by Danyal's spirit and was not able to do the transfer.

Danyal liked to play tricks on new recruits to the league, and when Bruce was there, he pretended to be his sister. (As Danyal constant exposure to the pits made his eyes green)

Talia was only able to develop a relationship with Bruce outside the compound,but Danyal and Bruce's love story was very brief. ( And maybe Bruce liked Danyal more as he could be bargained to live with Bruce, unlike his sister who was devoted to her father)

Ra's would have liked the detective with either of his children,but it was not to be.

In fact, when Talia was planning on wedding Bruce, Danyal was sent for extra protection and liked the little Robin (Dick) despite being on opposite sides. So, when Talia acquires Bruce's sperm to make Damian, Ra's did a test to see which sibling produced better offspring, and unfortunately, Danyal's won. So, Damian was the son of the Bat and Demon, but of Bruce and Danyal. The thing is that Talia and Danyal are identical twins, just one boy and one girl. So, Talia assumes Damian is hers by default, and when creating Heretic, she uses her DNA.

Danyal was someone more connected with the pits than anyone knew and spent some time with the spiritualists of the league. Danyal was there when Jason was in the league and tried to curb his most violent fits, and sometimes took care of Damien in the league along with Jason.

Now, unfortunately, during Ra's coup, Talia, sick of her brother favoritism, pushes Danyal into the pits where he doesn't resurface.

(A few years in Danny Phantom world is a few days in the DC verse, so Danyal as Danny Fenton speedruns the DP life, becomes phantom, follows cannon lore, except doesn't really stay in Amity Park afterwords,closes the two portals, and goes to find his original dimension,where Damien is about to sacrificed to the pit by Talia, believing she can make more,with the bats present kills him.

More in part 2...

[ashasdiary]

Pumpkin’s First Birthday

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: it’s your and Nanami’s daughter’s first birthday. Gojo and the students buy gifts for her and meet her for the first time at the party (based on this ask)

CW: so much FLUFF, established relationship, pet names, babies, PAPAMIN WC: 3.2k A/N: This is a sequel to Vitamins and Pumpkin — Pumpkin and this one are SFW! Enjoy thee cutest story ever!! <3

As much of a family man Nanami Kento is, he’s not very traditional. Since you’d both agreed to skip a gender reveal for it to be a surprise at birth, you hadn’t even discussed names. 

Tired as you were after pumpkin was born, you were excited to discuss it. She slept comfortably against you while you breastfed. And you found, not surprisingly, that the discussion flowed smoothly and quickly. 

“I wanted to say we should go for a name beginning with K, to match yours,” you tell him. 

“That’s sweet, but wh—” he begins, you know he’s going to say what about yours, but you shake your head. 

“She’s our first child, and I think a K name would work better.”

He chuckles quietly and gives you a soft smile, “Alright, honey. You’re prepared, it seems. Shoot.”

“Kaiyo,” you tell him. He tilts his head, pondering on it. 

“Kaiyo,” he repeats, testing it out. Kaiyo, meaning ocean. 

You nod, smiling a little as you watch him think, the cogs turning in his head. “It's not one of the most common names, but I thought you might like it both for its literal translation and it being associated with the vast and endless beauty of the ocean,” you explain. 

He smiles warmly. “I really like that one. It’s sweet. Nanami Kaiyo works.”

“I thought you might. Now tell me yours?” You request and he squeezes your hand gently, gazing down at his daughter, sleeping soundly. 

“Kimiko,” he says, his voice soft, bringing his gaze to yours, “It’s a little more traditional, but it means ‘precious child’ or ‘valuable daughter’. It’s associated with beauty, grace, and elegance. It's not too common but still has a strong connection to Japanese culture.”

While you’d been listening to him explain, so passionately, so lovingly, you felt pumpkin shift a little, as if she was approving, and you knew that that was the one. Nanami Kimiko. 

“Oh…Ken, that’s wonderful. And we can shorten it too, even the nicknames still have pretty meanings. That’s so well thought out,” you whisper to him, eyes twinkling. 

He grins, “I’m glad you like it, honey. Yeah, it’s versatile. Kimi, like the term of endearment meaning dear, beloved, or sweetheart. And then Miko, which has connotations of grace, purity, and spirituality.” 

You lean over and kiss his head, “I love your brain. Goodness. It’s perfect!”

*

Nanami had taken paternity leave from work for 9 months, and you were so grateful for all of the moments you shared together with your daughter. Being present together, with her.

Kimiko, your sweet girl, was growing too fast. She’d began to crawl at 6 months. Nanami had very much been proactive in her development, having read so much about babies during your pregnancy, so you chalked up her fast progression to him. He was quite hands on when it came to tummy time, independent movement, and the process of introducing her to new foods. 

He was also extremely encouraging of Kimiko’s personality development.

It came as no surprise her first word was “dada,” because she was very much daddy’s girl. 

At 9 months, Nanami returned back to work. His colleagues, friends, the students, all asked him about you, your daughter, fatherhood, and he would always speak proudly of his family, show them pictures, and go into great detail of Kimiko’s developmental stages. 

A couple of weeks later, after he’d come home from work one day, he’s greeted by the sight of you sat at the end of the hallway encouraging Kimiko, and slowly, she totters over to him. Beginning to walk at 9 months was quite the achievement. 

*

“What’re you doing for Kimiko’s birthday?” Gojo asks one day as they’re sat in the staff room. He was perusing his phone and seemingly looked uninterested, but he had grown fond of his niece that he hadn’t met yet, and was actually searching up gifts to get for her.

“Hm?” Nanami looks up from the documents he was reading. “Her mother and I thought of having a little party for her.” 

Her first birthday was in a couple of weeks. It was mind blowing just how fast the past year had gone. Nanami finds himself smiling as he reflects on the past 12 months and how his daughter had completely transformed your lives for the better. 

“Little? Come on, Nanami, it’s her first ever birthday. It’s gotta be special. Go big or go home. Aren’t you gonna let us meet her? I want to meet my niece,” Gojo raises a brow over his glasses and Nanami eyes him over his. 

“Well, of course, but… I’ll have to discuss with my wife first,” Nanami says and Gojo claps and cheers. 

“Alright! No way she’ll say no. I’ll just take that as a yes and start preparing,” he grins and Nanami rolls his eyes but smiles a bit to himself. 

Nanami was ordinarily quite a reserved man, and he was a little hesitant to invite everyone to his daughter’s birthday party, but with your encouragement, he did, and he was both nervous and excited for the students and his friends to meet his pride and joy. 

*

“Itadori, wh— put the Lego down. She’s only one,” Megumi sighs exasperatedly, and Nobara laughs. 

“I’m just looking, Fushiguro,” Yuji huffs and puts the box of Lego back onto the shelf. 

“If you’re looking, look at the age on the box, for goodness’ sake,” Megumi mutters. 

Gojo pushes along the half full shopping cart through the aisle, humming quietly to himself as he examines the toys on the shelves.  

“No, these are much too advanced for her yet,” Gojo concludes, and he pushes the cart into the next aisle, the kids following him, much like a mother hen and her chicks. 

“But…why can’t we just get stuff that they could use later?” Yuji offers, and Gojo turns to look at him, raising a brow. 

“You have much to learn about children and parenthood, young one,” he says and he goes back to perusing the shelves, picking up a mini musical keyboard and putting it into the cart. 

“Use your brain, Yuji. Where would they store it? What if it gets broken before they can use it? Why get something they can’t use yet? Hello?” Nobara knocks her hand on the side of Yuji’s head and he lets out another huff. 

“Ow. Okay, got it, stop,” Yuji rubs his head. 

“This multipack looks good,” Nobara picks up the big box of Play-Doh, in an array of colours, and shows it to Gojo. He hums. 

“Oh, Nanami will probably hate these. But I think she’ll like the bright ones. Put it in,” he instructs and she does so with a small laugh. 

There’s a moment of silence as all four of them are perusing the shelves, and then, “Okay, I think this is age appropriate, what do you guys think?” Yuji points to a wooden train set with big wooden blocks to make the tracks. 

“Fantastic. Put it in,” Gojo nods. 

“Gojo Sensei, is it really necessary to get—” Megumi begins and Gojo claps his hand over the boy’s mouth. 

“Yes. It is. Only the best for my niece. No expense will be spared when it comes to her. And you’re not the one paying, so I don’t want to hear a peep out of you.”

Megumi pushes Gojo’s hand away and hums. “Right. Gotta get the best for my…cousin?”

Nobara and Yuji snicker and Megumi’s lips curl into a small smile. Nobara gasps when her gaze falls onto a mini kitchen set, “Gojo Sensei, look at that!”

Gojo looks over and he grins, pushing the cart over to it, inspecting it. “I like this a lot. I don’t think Nanamin will, but…it’s a nice gift. Babies like playing pretend. Alright, hold the cart while I put it in,” he instructs his students, and they hold the cart while he picks up the large box and places it in. 

A mini kitchen set, mini instruments, building blocks, teddy bears, Play-Doh, clothes, shoes, accessories— Gojo had practically bought the entire store for Kimiko, and of course didn’t bat an eye at the price on the receipt. 

*

You’d both opted to have the party mid afternoon, not too early and not too late, which worked best. 

Both you and Nanami had planned and executed the decorations perfectly, and were quite pleased with the outcome. Kimiko had had her afternoon nap and was well rested, so everything was going smoothly. When she’d seen the decorations, she was so full of joy, her excitement infectious. 

Slowly, your guests had started to arrive, and you rub your husband’s back to ease his nerves, though he doesn’t look it, you know him well. “You’re doing fantastic, my love,” you whisper and kiss his cheek. 

He gives you a grateful smile and hugs you into his side, whispering back, “Thanks, honey.”

Soon enough, most of your guests are there, enjoying the celebration of a year of Kimiko. The little lady was having a blast, pushing the balloons around. The last of your guests ring the doorbell, and Nanami opens the door to let them in. 

The sight before him makes his brows raise. Gojo and the first year students, with so many wrapped presents in hand, it was impossible to count. 

“Hey, Nanamin!” They all chime. 

Nanami is stunned for a moment at the amount of presents. Gojo grins, “You gonna let us in?” 

Nanami steps to the side to let them in and gives a warm smile to the kids as they step inside one by one. “Hi, you three. Thank you for coming,” he ruffles Yuji’s hair, “Hi, Gojo— was all of this necessary?”

Gojo steps in last and hands over a gift bag to Nanami, setting down the big box and looking at Nanami in all seriousness over his sunglasses, “Yes. Where’s my niece?”

“I hope you left a gift receipt. I don’t know about your taste in children’s gifts,” Nanami says, teasing. 

“Oh, come on…you’re no fun. I got all good things, like I said to my students: only the best for my niece. But…yes. There is a gift receipt inside should my taste not be to your liking. Which I doubt.”

You walk through the small crowd with Kimiko on your hip to greet them, and you are taken aback by the sheer amount of wrapped presents the students have brought into the house, and you blink, wide eyed. 

“H-hi, kids…!” 

“Mrs. Nanami!”

“Lovely to see you, Mrs. Nanami—“

“Hi, Mrs. Nanami—“

They speak over each other and you laugh softly as you close the distance to them, greet them and introduce your daughter to them.

She’s a little shy but she’s curious so she burrows herself against you but still peeks at them. You smile softly, stroking her hair gently as you gaze at her, “Miko? Not gonna say hi to your friends?” You turn to the kids and give them a kind smile, “The ice’ll melt eventually. Go and get some food while it’s still warm. Then we’re going to have the cake,” you tell them and they all head further inside to eat. 

Gojo was still talking with Nanami, and you approach from behind. It’s when Gojo sees the way Nanami’s entire face softens at something behind him that he whips around.

Gojo’s smile is so bright and he looks so giddy that you laugh softly as you greet each other. 

“Look at you, glowing and beautiful as always…motherhood suits you,” he gives you a grin, and your cheeks warm slightly at his playful and flirtatious nature. 

“Thank you, Gojo, it’s lovely to see you again,” you embrace him with your free arm and Kimiko peers at Gojo with piqued interest.

She’s quite intrigued by the white haired man and as you’d finished hugging Gojo and stepped back, she leans over to reach for him which surprises all three of you. 

“Oh. Am I—…am I allowed to hold her?” Gojo asks and you laugh a little. 

“Of course. You’re her uncle, aren’t you?” You tease him, holding her out to him, and he almost melts. He gently takes her into his arms and holds her against him.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Nanami the way Gojo’s hands had trembled slightly, which made his lips curl at the corners— the strongest sorcerer showing a bit of weakness over a baby? He’d never live this one down. 

Nanami’s friends and colleagues had come over to greet Gojo as well and the small crowd had gathered around you as Gojo has his moment with his niece. 

“Hiii, Kimiko…happy birthday, sweet pea,” Gojo holds her gently as he caresses her cute little round chubby cheek as she looks at him, “oh, aren’t you adorable…yes you are, Kimiko.”

“Meekoh,” she repeats and she grabs his glasses. He chuckles and takes them off for her and she looks into his bright eyes curiously. 

“Go-jo,” he says his name slowly to her, pointing to himself and she smiles with her teeth, scrunching her nose. 

“Gogo,” she says and everyone either laughs or ‘aw’s. She squeals happily and claps her hands, loving the attention. 

“Take her before I cry, Nanami,” Gojo says to your husband and you and Nanami both laugh at this. “I am no longer Gojo Satoru, from here on forth I am Gogo!” 

You and Kento were both mindful of having her meet a whole bunch of new people at once, so you take your time between each person, or group them, so as not to overwhelm her. 

When Shoko meets her, she sits on the couch with the baby on her lap, talking to you. “And she started walking at nine months? Wow. That’s early for a baby…you may have super baby on your hands here.”

“Shohkoh,” Kimiko stands on Shoko’s lap, Shoko holding her under her arms, and she bends and straightens her legs, bopping to the music as if she’s dancing. 

“I wouldn’t mind taking her home, y’know— if you ever need a babysitter for a date night or something, let me know,” she smiles. 

“Thanks, Shoko, I’ll probably take you up on that soon. We’ve not gone on a date in a while,” you tell her, “but I don’t mind, it’s parenthood. We’ll find the time at some point.”

“Guggo,” Kimiko says as she steps closer, practically climbing up Shoko’s body. You both laugh, and Shoko looks from you to the baby with a questioning look, playful, as she moves her to stand on her lap again. 

“I couldn’t agree more, birthday girl. Your parents definitely need some romantic time together. And I think you and I will get up to plenty of mischief together too. But we have to keep it a secret, okay?” She tells her and Kimiko giggles and holds Shoko’s face. 

The students had stuffed themselves with the delicious food you’d made, and you and Nanami take Kimiko to get acquainted with the three of them afterwards. They sit in a circle on the floor and Kimiko totters around. 

“She’s such a cute baby,” Nobara fawns. “You have the cutest cousin, Fushiguro.”

Megumi almost laughs, the tiniest of smiles peaking through. Then Kimiko comes over to him and points at him. “Daa…g.”

“What does that mean, Nanamin?” Yuji asks. 

Nobara facepalms. “She means dog,” your husband explains. 

“How does she—?” Megumi is perplexed and you chuckle at the look on his face. 

“I told her about you three. It seems the thing that stuck with her was the fact that you have animals, Megumi,” you tell him. 

“Ah…uh, yes, Kimiko. I have dog. And elephant. And frog. And bird. And bunny. I would love to show you, but I don’t think it’s safe for me to do that yet. I will one day, though,” Megumi tells her and she reaches out and touches his hair with a little giggle. He smiles at this, and the sight warms your heart. 

The kids are all great with her, they keep her company — under the supervision of the adults — while you and Nanami get the cake. 

And when you sing happy birthday to her, Kimiko might just be the happiest baby on the planet sat in her high chair, seeing her parents and all of the new friends she’d made today singing to her. She couldn’t blow her candle out yet, so you and Nanami assist her. 

Everyone cheers once the candle is blown out, and she’s happy for a moment but then whines. “What’s wrong, baby?” You say to her and she kicks her legs in her high chair, whining more. 

“I know,” your husband says, lighting the candle up again. Kimiko’s frown instantly disappears and you let out a hearty laugh. 

She tries to blow out the candle but can’t, desperately spluttering. You stealthily step behind her and blow it out for her so that she thinks she did it, while Nanami picks up the cake before she can spray more saliva onto it. 

“That’s enough cake decorating for you, pumpkin.”

This earns a few laughs from your guests and they settle down to eat some birthday cake. As you’re sat with Kimiko, giving her some cake and having a forkful yourself between, Nanami stands up and clears his throat, turning the volume of the music down. 

Everyone quietens down as they look and listen to him. Nanami is not one for attention and you smile when you see the slight pink tint on his cheeks. 

“I just wanted to say a few words. I was…a little skeptical about having a party like this, but my darling wife was the one who made this happen. Thank you all for attending Kimiko’s birthday and making this day special,” he says and everyone cheers. This was the most relaxed they'd all ever seen him be.

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Nanami!” Gojo calls. 

“Na-na-mi! Na-na-mi!” Yuji chants and Megumi slaps him upside the head to shut him up, “Hey, Fushiguro!”

Nanami turns up the music with a laugh at Yuji and Megumi’s antics, “Help yourselves to food and cake, there’s plenty left.”

Nanami joins you and Kimiko and sits down beside Kimiko, plate in hand. “Daddee.”

“Hi, pumpkin,” he kisses her head. 

“I liked your little speech there. Short and sweet,” you smile at him. 

“Hm. Like you,” he grins and eats a large forkful of cake. 

“Kento,” you laugh, and eat a big one yourself. He gazes at you with a playful look in his eye. 

“You have a little…ah…” he leans in and thumbs away some frosting from the corner of your lips, and then sits back, sucking it off his thumb. 

You purse your lips and cast your gaze down, keeping your composure. He knows the effect he has on you. 

You look back up at him, and he’s gazing at you, that look in his eye. 

Your lips curl at the corners as you look at your husband and you glance over the room until you find Shoko. 

“Shoko,” you call over to her, where she was lounging on the other end of the couch and where she’d seen all of this unfold, “How soon are you able to babysit?”

She laughs loudly, “Whenever. By the looks of things, I think you may need my immediate assistance?” 

A/N: THIS WAS SO STINKING CUTE, I hope I brought this idea to life in an enjoyable way for you anon - I LOOOOVED writing it, thank you for the request!! <3

© ashasdiary, all rights reserved. Divider by cafekitsune

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon IV — Escape

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] Part IV — You are here]

After four hundred years, the chance for escape finally presents itself—what will you choose?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, brief mentions of NSFW thoughts and past events, feral dragon Neuvillette

Your opportunity for escape came on a gray and dismal day.

The past week had been particularly grueling for the Chief Justice—or so he had panted into your ear while he pinned you to the bed, skin slick with sweat and his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

You’d initially took it as a thinly veiled excuse for the dragon to lash out, for him to lay claim to you once again, but you soon noticed his focus actually wavering. Just enough for it to slip his mind to tell your Melusine guards (or guides, as Neuvillette would insist) not to bring you to his office for your regular afternoon tea with him. Furina had insisted on his last-minute presence at the meeting between her and certain Snezhnayan diplomats, and his unwavering sense of responsibility to Fontaine prevented him from rejecting the order.

That was how you found yourself sitting alone in his office.

You were quite confused. Neuvillette never skipped tea with you. In fact, as the busiest man in Fontaine, he insisted on it. It was a new development, one he thought might bring the two of you closer and outside of a purely domestic setting.

You’d be grateful for the change of scenery if you didn’t end up bent over his desk half the time.

In the beginning you had fought him on it, but as time in his captivity stretched on you soon realized this was one of the only chances allotted to you beyond your shared abode, especially now that the Opera was off limits. You even got to chat with the Melusines who acted as your sweet, naive guards. They reminded you of Carole and your previous life, a bittersweet memory that you held onto like a fleeting dream.

Now, you couldn’t help but start to fidget in your seat. When one minute became two, and two became five, and five became ten, you couldn’t help the anxious tapping of your nails against his desk. Where was he? Had something happened to him? You knew the Chief Justice would never commit a crime, but the notion of him imprisoned forever in the Fortress or Meropide was one that brought you comfort during your unrequited relationship.

Particularly on nights he would remind you of whose sentence you were under, whose wife and mate you were.

Pushing both hands against the desk, you rose to your feet and stormed towards the door. You wouldn’t sit idly to stew in your own thoughts. You raised a fist, preparing to knock harshly to alert any Melusine or the Iudex himself whose inhuman perspectives misinterpreted this as some sort of sick joke—

Except the slightest force sent the door ajar, presenting you with an empty hallway.

It was unlocked.

You couldn’t help the quickening of your heart rate. It invaded your senses, your hearing, your feeling, until it drowned out all of your thoughts but one.

You could leave.

The absence of any other individual was unheard of. Logically, it didn’t make sense; there should have been a guard if Neuvillette expected to be late, or others working in the main office if they hadn’t been dismissed for break as usual (though you knew it was only to spare them of any ungentlemanly sounds that might be coming from his office after you entered).

It was then you realized: Neuvillette had made a mistake.

You didn’t spare a single glance back as you strode out the doors of the Palais Mermonia and onto the streets of Fontaine.

Navigating your way out of the Court was easier than expected. Although there was no mistaking who you were when Neuvillette dragged you out in public—whom else’s waist would he retain an iron grip on throughout an entire opera if not his loving partner—without him by your side, you appeared like any other resident.

Obtaining Mora for the ferry ride to Sumeru was also a breeze. You had no moral objections to pocketing a few coins from unsuspecting citizens along the docks. Why would you, when you had been serving a lifetime sentence of imprisonment anyway?

The ship wasn’t anything fancy and was mostly filled with traveling salesmen and local fishermen, but after centuries of being doted on and monitored constantly, you savored the feeling of being normal, of feigning the role of a traveling merchant. You truly never thought that pretending to be an average worker would feel so freeing.

Suddenly, the skin of your arm began to crawl, feeling like a thousand pinpricks were digging their claws under your skin. You hissed at the sharp pain, gasping at the brief flash of your draconic tattoo, and then…nothing. You could almost always feel it, but it seems that upon crossing a certain distance the leviathan decided to lie dormant. You thanked Barbados for your luck; in your certainty of escaping, you hadn’t even thought of the physical tie between you and Neuvillette.

As the boat pulled out of the dock, relief washed over you like the serenity after a storm. After months of the Iudex, the supposed upholder of Justice, violating every rule against you, you were finally free.

As you watched Fontaine’s massive cliffs fade into the waves, you briefly mourned your choice to leave your Hydro Vision behind; however, you reasoned that the risk in going back for it and wasting precious time was too great. Not to mention the fact that you were sure you’d never get away with slipping it out of Neuvillette’s grasp, and you certainly didn’t want to squander this chance by running back into his arms. Although you knew the rumors of what happened to bearers who lost their Visions, you were willing to take your chances if it meant securing your freedom.

A sudden splash against your cheek jerked you from your thoughts. Upon looking up, you found the previously azure sky to have darkened. Rain began steadily falling, soon fully soaking your frilly dress (another insistence of Neuvillette’s, that you always wear dresses for teatime…never again!). Thunder rolled across the waters, bringing a taste of pain, anger, and betrayal with it.

Ah, so he’s realized your absence. Good—let him rage. Let him experience the heartbreak of losing what you hold most dear.

Maybe that will serve as his atonement for his sins against you.

You noticed then that, like your draconic captor, you too were crying. Though not of sadness—no, yours were tears of joy.

~*~

Although you had originally planned to journey back to your homeland in the City of Wind—not that you had anyone left there to return to, it was more for your own comfort—you found Sumeru to be to your liking. It was Fontaine’s foil—hot, dry, intellectually driven yet full of untamed wilderness. Full of real, thriving flora and fauna that cold, inorganic meka could never match.

The presence of the Akademiya and Port Ormos even offered you a line to continue your photography and research. Due to the dark room Neuvillette had installed in the library, your skills with a camera hadn’t grown too rusty over the centuries. Now, you finally were able to photograph your true passions again—nature, the water, the animals around you. Their harmony and beauty together, their freedom.

It may seem as if you hadn’t gotten far, but with how vast the Nation of Wisdom was, you felt safe to start anew. For the first time in four hundred years, you felt at home.

Three months had passed since your escape, with no indication that the Iudex was on your trail. After enrolling in the Akademiya (which had required you to change your name, since posing as a four hundred year old would probably not go over well), you even found a group of fellow students that you worked and resided with in the city. You were still careful, of course—you never traveled alone, avoided looking flashy in public, and even altered your look by cutting your hair to suit the arid climate.

That is, until you weren’t.

Your advisor appointed you to join an exclusive research project on the wildlife transition along the Sumeru/Fontaine border. Having experience with Fontaine’s biology, you were the clear candidate. Your initial trepidation almost won out, but you finally conceded at the encouragement of your peers. You’d even be traveling with your advisor and two of your roommates, so you chalked your nerves up to not having set foot in the direction of Fontaine in months. After all, you’d been meaning to explore the desert and its ecology—you just needed to take the plunge and face your fears.

Water was a rarity in the desert, after all.

Which is why, as your party was ascending the final dunes of the Desert of Hadramaveth, you believed the tall, blue-adorned figure approaching was a mirage. A result of dehydration after days of travel in these harsh conditions, a trick of the mind—

“Of all the places you could have escaped to, was it necessary to choose such a dry and barren place as this?” The last part was mumbled under his breath, his tone taking on a low growl, “I cannot help but feel that you bringing me here is some form of an assassination attempt…”

At the sound of his voice, just as deep and commanding as you remembered, your entire being came to a standstill. You despised how you had been conditioned for that tone to send a pangs of trepidation to your core.

Yet despite the Chief Justice’s presence right before you, a part of your brain refused to process it. He was the Hydro dragon, for Archon’s sake. What in all of Teyvat could drag him to the farthest place from the sea?

You, apparently.

At your silence, Neuvillette’s lips tightened. His expression was near unreadable, but you recognized the tumultuous mix of anger and longing storming under that stoic facade.

The other members of your group appeared confused and uneasy. Apparently Neuvillette’s reputation preceded him, even outside of Fontaine, for the common mumbling you picked up on was speculations of his role here.

“Is that the Chief Justice of Fontaine?” a professor whispered to your advisor nervously. “What is he doing here? Surely none of us have offended the court…” Her eyes flickered to you briefly. Due to the nature of the research, it was common knowledge among the group that you were the one with connections to Fontaine.

Said Justice took a step towards you, spurring you to take a larger step back. You knew running wasn’t an option, but you reasoned that he couldn’t just take you clawing and spitting for all your colleagues to witness. No, he would have to convince them of your guilt before he could act.

Well, two could play at that game; you lived with Neuvillette long enough to learn some of his ticks and tells, especially when it came to you. This would be a game of negotiation, a chess match of wits. Neuvillette’s intellect was near unmatched, but if you played your cards right, you could win.

The tide that is Fontaine’s Iudex may one day sweep you under his control, but it is not this day.

“Madame (L/n), by the authority of the Court of Fontaine and the Nation of Justice, I hereby place you under my custody for immediate detainment.”

Or not.

A few of the researchers around you gasped, tittering about your supposed false identity. The professor from earlier backed away from you with a sneer. Looking around, you noted that even your friends were eyeing you warily like some stranger.

All logic left you at the dragon’s announcement. The terror gripping your heart was replaced by blinding, bubbling rage. You would not concede to the man who took everything from you and would take it all again, washing away the life you had built again like a house of sand.

You practically hissed in response. Now this was familiar. “Under what charges?”

Lifting his cane, Neuvillette summoned a levitating tome from which he read, “Multiple accounts of theft, use of a fraudulent identity, desertion in court to be tried for said charges, and emotional damages to the residents of Fontaine affected by your careless and selfish actions.”

You scoffed, your lip curling in a snarl. “And I suppose that last ‘charge’ applies specifically to you?”

The draconic man merely narrowed his piercing purple eyes. Unlike your own, Neuvillette’s demeanor did not falter. He wanted you to lash out, to validate the accusations against you in front of the Sumerian researchers. His objective was solely to retrieve you—quelling your anger would come later.

The day you left Fontaine, Neuvillette had felt a piece of his soul shatter.

He could feel the very moment you crossed the border, when the draconic bond between mates and lovers was severed. It was a guillotine to his head, a rope around his neck, a bullet to his temple. Pain, raw and agonizing, enveloped his very being. The dragon beneath his skin raged, begging Neuvillette to fly to you and sink his claws so deep you could never leave again. The all-consuming panic over your loss, over your safety now that you were outside of his sight, had threatened to rise up and smother him, to drown him and sweep the fractured pieces away until he was nothing.

It had rained for weeks straight, so much so that the citizens of Fontaine brought back the old adage—Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.

As much as he wanted, needed to find you, the Chief Justice could not simply abandon his post and his people. Going against his very nature, he quelled the dragon and settled on deploying Gardemeks to Sumeru and Liyue to search for you. It had been easy enough to program them with your photo and statement of your status as a fugitive. Surely you couldn’t have gotten any farther than the regions bordering Fontaine, and if so, the mekas would signal your location to him in no time.

So, after weeks on end of the Garde failing to locate you, Neuvillette’s anxiety swelled from a shower to a tempest, a storm of violent wind and flurrying emotion. He found himself in the library he had built you, clawed fingers clutching his face with labored breaths. Black danced across his vision.

Was he not enough for you? Had he not given you anything and everything you could desire? Had he not kept his mate safe?

Why did you abandon me, (Y/n)?

When he had come to, the room was in tatters, the carpet shredded with claw marks and the walls smoldering with blue energy.

Neuvillette decided then that he could not wait any longer.

Tracking you only fueled the dragon. It could sense you, the pull of your tattoo awakening with each step Neuvillette took to close the gap. It was one mate beckoning another, like the pull of the moon on the tide. Your light guided him straight into your path.

And when Neuvillette finally saw your figure, illuminated by the hottest desert sun, he had nearly fallen to his knees and wept in relief. You were so beautiful, yet the look of terror on your face ripped his soul apart all over again. Even now, even here, you wanted to reject him. Could you not see how far he would travel for you, how long his reach would extend just to keep you safe?

In that moment, the dragon roared, and Neuvillette listened.

After seemingly endless hours, days, and months to think about the reasons you left him, he realized that he must have been too lenient with you. He practically was the law in Fontaine, yet he had dismissed your transgressions time and time again, thinking your outbursts were simply a temporary response to your new life with him. Yes, the transition had been sudden and the charges against you quite ridiculous, but he truly believed you would fall for him as he did you.

He would tolerate your backlash no more. No longer would he spoil you with gifts, hoping, praying to every member of the Seven just for you to smile at him. Never again would he sigh in defeat when you spurned his touch, leaving him to fuck his hand to the mere idea of you initiating physical intimacy.

No, just like any other criminal in Fontaine, you would have to be imprisoned until you learned your place—in your case, by his side. And he would be lying if he said the idea of punishing you for your offenses, for leaving him, didn’t cause his cock to twitch in anticipation.

The dragon demanded to be satisfied, and it would have its fill.

“We have numerous reports of you stealing Mora from unsuspecting individuals, as well as the testimony from the ship’s captain that you claimed to be a merchant immigrating to Sumeru. Then, of course, comes the addition consequences for violating the authority of the court by leaving Fontaine. The latter makes you a fugitive.”

“That’s insane! I only had to commit those so-called ‘crimes’ because you—”

“Ah, so you plead guilty.”

You blanched. No, not this again. He was riling you up, making you fumble with your argument like a child, just like your initial confrontation with him in the Opera Epiclese. But that was how he viewed you, wasn’t it? His centuries of experience would always trump your own.

“You know that’s not what I meant—

The sound of your advisor clearing his throat momentarily saved you. “Sir, with all due respect, we do not know whomever this Miss (L/n) you are referring to. This young lady here is Miss (Fake name), and she is one of my finest students. I highly doubt she is the one to have committed these acts.”

Neuvillete’s eyes flashed dangerously towards the researcher. He loomed over your advisor, casting them in shadow. “Shall I arrest you as well for conspiring with a criminal?”

You never thought silence could be so deafening.

The Iudex released a huff. “I didn’t think so.” With a flick of his hand, your wrists became bound together with bands of pure hydro. Your protestations did nothing to deter him as he motioned forward, causing you to be forcibly dragged forwards by an invisible force. You were no stranger to this procedure; Neuvillette had used his powers on you more than once in bed. Now that he had his hydro around you, he held all the authority.

Without the ability to control your movements, you tumbled into Neuvillette’s broad chest. To the others it appeared as if he were securing your bindings, but you shivered as he buried his nose in your hair. Softly, in a voice only meant for you, he sighed, “Oh, how I dreamed of this moment, my darling (Y/n). A valiant effort, to be sure, though your pursuit was always in vain. There is nowhere in all of Teyvat I won’t find you.” His hand ran down the length of your arm, where you knew your draconic tattoo was once more glowing under your tunic. “You are marked as mine, my wife. My mate.”

You jerked your head away despite his scent invading your being. “I will never stop running from you, husband,” you growled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dissolving into the Primordial Sea is preferable to lifetime with you.”

To your surprise, a low chuckle escaped the Chief Justice’s lips. “I think you’ll soon find that I can be quite persuasive.” He stood to his full height, face reverting to his usually stoicism. “I shall be taking my leave with the prisoner, then. If any of you wish to object to this ruling, you may submit a false claim report to the Court, and I will attend to it personally.”

Glancing around at your peers, those you believed to be your friends and colleagues, you knew that none of them would fight for you. News of your detainment would be spread through the Akademiya, forever tarnishing your reputation. It was over, and Neuvillette had emerged victorious once again.

The Iudex motioned you forward with a tip of his cane and an ominous spark in his eyes. “Come, my beloved. Let us return home.”

[greenfiend]

Are we ready to have an honest discussion about Will and El’s dynamic and possible ending yet?

Two characters sharing a similar narrative in this story. How will things end for these two?

It hasn’t occurred to me until recently just how little we discuss these two.

Over the course of the show, the development of Will and El’s co-existence has less to do with their relationship but more to do with Will’s character arc.

In the beginning (seasons 1 and 2), Will is so hidden that El takes over. Will “hides” in the upside down, and is again hidden when he is possessed. El takes the spotlight in his place.

Then in season 3, Will is physically present but in the background. He’s the side character. El is the leader. They barely interact.

In season 4, Will is starting to come out of his shell. He’s still a side character, but he’s closer to being on an even playing field with El. He’s not in the background as often, and is actually seen conversing with El, and he even confronts her on her lies to Mike. Which is also foreshadowing his lies to Mike later on in the season.

I’m going to be quite frank: El and Will are not actually very close in canon. The “wonder twins” idea is beautiful but very fanon. These two had so many opportunities to grow closer, especially since they were separated from the others in California… but they just don’t? They both seem lonely and disconnected in the other’s presence. But yet, they are connected another way: El is Will’s saviour/protector. She is like his security blanket. I mean this literally (textually), and a sub-textually. Obviously she helps him while he’s trapped in the upside down and when he’s possessed- making her a textual, and literal saviour.

But… what do I mean by a sub-textual saviour? Well, she protects him from having to take the spotlight. He is able to hide behind her in many ways.

For one, she takes the brunt of the bullies in Lenora. Will is able to go around unnoticed even as a GNC guy that he is. Back home at Hawkins, he is, unfortunately, very visible to bullies. Visibly different, visibly gay. But in Lenora? Bullies are too distracted by the girl who’s different instead.

Now when it comes to Will’s love life… El also is protecting him in a sense. He desires Mike, romantically, sexually, and intimately. Due to the rampant homophobia that surrounds him, these desires scare him. El is a safe barrier from these desires. Will is also able to safely express himself through her.

If El weren’t in the picture, Will may have been more bold in expressing this side of himself to Mike. He may just let his feelings slip out more. Perhaps he’d let his eyes linger a tad longer, or he’d be tempted to be a bit more tactile with the boy he’s overflowing with affection for.

El shields Will from having to confront many aspects of himself. That’s the problem. Because of her protection, he isn’t able to challenge himself and grow. This is why whenever El saves the day, it never lasts. She merely puts a “bandaid” on the wound. But this wound will grow and fester if the source of the problem is not addressed.

El’s Possible Origin

This is the first time in the entire show that El is mentioned. The context of this sounds like they’re implying that El also “came from” the upsidedown; precisely where Will was at the time.

Now, I’m aware this is a fairly unpopular opinion, but I do believe El was created from Will in a supernatural sense. I suppose in a similar way to how Eve was created from Adam, minus any romantic undertones.

Our very first sighting of El is of her emerging from the forest, barefoot, in a hospital gown, with very little hair on her head, and a limited knowledge of the English language. Not unlike an infant child. Now, please don’t take this the wrong way… I’m not implying that everyone with limited language skills are babies, there are many possible reasons for it. But within this show, it is implied that her lack of language skills are due to her experiences within the lab, and lack of experiences outside of it.

I do have to ask though, why do the other “lab kids” we have seen have no obvious language difficulties? Unless… El actually was an “infant” in a way…

This quote is interesting for multiple reasons. One I’m focusing on here is the mention of life starting that particular day. Of course I’m not referring to Mike’s life starting that day- I’m talking about the person we are shown in this particular shot- El.

Now, I know what everyone is thinking: how does El have memories that predate this day then?

Well, what I’m arguing is that many of her memories could be an altered version of Will’s memories. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that his memories could have been transferred to El.

This “fake” script of the episode Papa tells us that Will recognized Brenner. There’s a history there! Will likely could not quite pinpoint how he recognized him.

It’s important to note that Will only vaguely recalls aspects of his childhood. There’s gaps. Just like there’s gaps in El’s memory as well.

El’s Possible Ending

I’ve always been surprised just how little people dig into El’s possible ending in the show. I feel like people are somewhat aware of this possibility but choose not to give it any further thought. Truth is- El doesn’t feel like she belongs anywhere.

I need to remind everyone of this last shot in ST4. Yes yes the couples, we have heard it a million times already… but look where El is standing. She’s on the other side. She’s in the upsidedown. Where she initially came from. Now, I’m not saying she’ll end up in the current unpleasant upsidedown- she will likely live on in a peaceful version of it. An entirely new environment one that exists…

[In Will’s mind.]

I do think this is an important foreshadowing quote- but not in the way most people think. They won’t work together as twins- they will work together as one person. What I’m saying is…

They will combine. Just like what this hug visually foreshadows… El and Will will become one again.

I can honestly make a whole separate post regarding references made in ST to other media involving two characters being one. There’s a lot…

[mariclerc]

hey!... can you write a Charles × horner reader.. where the reader has a crush on since they met.... but Charles doesn't like her very much cuz he thinks she's a nepo baby... but the reader still tries to win his heart.... but one day after a bad race he lashed out on her.... breaking her heart.... later he realizes he also has fellings for her...then ask the reader for forgiveness and a second chance (pls make it a happy ending)... thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for this request! It took me a little while to try to develop it, I hope you like it!! 💗💗

Second chance spark | cl16

Summary: where Charles thinks you're a nepo baby just because of your last name. Warnings: a little angst, horner!reader, christian being an asshole and fluffy fluff.

a/n: let me know if you want a part two!!

Part 2

The paddock of the Spanish Grand Prix is in big move, thousands of people moving from one place to another and there you find yourself, outside of the Red Bull hospitality talking to several of the girls on the team. This is what your life has become, practically, since being the daughter of Christian Horner you can walk around the hospitality and the paddock as many times as you like during the year.

Most people believe that you only walk around the paddock because it is a case of "nepotism", but in reality you are working very hard to be an engineer and earn a place in motorsport and that's why you find yourself doing internships at Red Bull. Also, your relationship with your father is not the best, so it is always a constant argument, but, even if you try not to give it so much importance, it always hurts.

“Oh god girls, look who's coming!” You say excitedly, Charles was walking through the paddock, to you he always looked like an angel, you blush slightly.

Mara, one of the Red Bull pr girls spoke. “Leclerc? Are you trying to charm the competition's sponsors I see.” she jokes and you blush a little.

You rolled your eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, he probably doesn't even know I'm here.” You say and a silence is present between the three of you. “I'm going to say hi.” You say determined.

Lila rise up an eyebrow. “Careful y/n. You don't want to spook the red prince.”

“Oh, please. Like he'd give me the time of the day.” you scoff.

You excuse yourself and stride confidently towards Charles. He notices your approach and his expression becomes guarded.

You've liked Charles since he debuted in the F4 European series, you always thought he was someone quite nice and talented... Besides of being cute, of course, but nothing ever happened between you, you were simply acquaintances. But now since you are always in the paddock you see him every single day and those feelings that you thought were already buried, were reborn with much more strength.

“Hello y/n. Didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles shyly.

“Well, I just came to say hi, a little greeting doesn't go amiss, don't you think?” you say shyly with a soft voice. “Are you nervous about the race?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah, uh, a little bit... But let's see how it goes.” he says trying to avoid your gaze.

“Well, you have a good shot, maybe you can achieve a podium finish.” You say and he looks at you surprised.

“You actually follow the races?” he asks.

You feign offense. “Of course I do, I'm trying to be an engineer! I may not be out there on the track like you and the boys, but I appreciate a good driver when I see one.” you smile brightly.

Charles looks at you for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Just make sure you're cheering for the right team on race day in the future.” he says teasingly.

“We'll see about that, Leclerc.” you two share a comfortable silence for a moment. You take a deep breath. “Well, I'll leave you alone, I have to go. But good luck in the race, yeah?” You say with a small smile.

“Sure, see you later! And thanks!” he smiles too.

You smiled back and turned to leave, a triumphant glint in your eyes. Charles watches you go, a genuine smile gracing his features. His heart is probably beginning to soften to let you into it.

***

“Is seriously? You talked to him and he didn't think you were a little innocent girl?” Christian said sitting in his chair in the office.

You were at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes, you had gone to see some engineers and work with them since you are doing your engineer internship at Red Bull and they have been very generous to you, teaching you everything they know, what you didn't realize was that your father was going to need you to have a talk. Such talks never end well, let's put it that way.

“Well, no... But I think he was being nice.” you say quietly. “I just wanted to wish him good luck, that's all... Just a little greeting... it's not a big deal.”

“You know? It's amazing that you're so stupid and dumb.” He says getting up from his chair. “And also by talking to the enemy, you don't really learn, don't you?” he asked sharply.

He never misses the opportunity to speak badly about you on any occasion, he simply doesn't care about your feelings, he is only interested in the job, winning and that's it. As if that were more important than your well-being as his daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Then let me finish my internship in another team.” you said and he looked at you. “I think it would be better for both you and me. Don't you think?” you said in a whisper.

“What? You really want to finish your silly and stupid internship at Ferrari, right? To be after a man who doesn't give you attention, is it serious?” he says sarcastically, that wasn't your idea but since he puts it on the table it doesn't sound too bad... “How ungrateful you are, to waste the fact that I gave you the opportunity to do the internship here.”

“And it was the only thing you did.” you murmured. “Because, as far as I remember, you haven't done anything else.”

“What did you say, huh? You little bitch.” He said, raising his voice towards you.

“What you fucking heard! Do you think it's not difficult to be under your shadow every day? How tiring it is to have everyone tell you that you are a child of nepotism just because all you did was get me the internship here! And you know that I had to sacrifice many things to get here.” you said in screams, taking everything out of you, all the years of abuse and so on. “And don't come pretending to be a saint because we both know you're not.”

You leave his office and everyone looks at you, but you don't care, you couldn't allow your father to call you names and spoke to you in a not very nice way. Your tears blur your vision as you leave the factory and you run to your car, you feel as if you no longer have a weight on your shoulders, but at the same time you are afraid of what may happen later between the two of you.

***

A couple of weeks later, the Austrian Grand Prix is a blur of disappointment, specially for Charles, since he finished a distant third, strategy blunders costing him a shot at the win against Max. The Red Bull Hospitality is abuzz with post-race celebration, a stark contrast to the muted atmosphere in the Ferrari hospitality across the way.

You stand awkwardly near the doorway, your presence a silent question in the room. Charles sits alone, staring into the bottom of an empty beer glass, his face an iron mask of frustration. A knot of worry tightens in your stomach, that's not the Charles you know, always so cheerful and lively despite everything. It's another version of him, darker and more mysterious.

“Charles?” you asked softly.

He looks up, surprise flickering across his features before hardening back into a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he said sharply.

“I...I just wanted to see if you were alright.” You say shyly.

His harsh tone stings, cutting through the fragile connection the two of you would built.

“Look y/n, I appreciate the concern, but I need to be alone.” he said sharply.

“But-” hurt creeps into your voice.

He interrupts with his voice rising. “No buts! Don't you get it? This is my job, my life! And today, I failed.”

Tears are pricking at your eyes. “I know it hurts, Charles, but you can't let it consume you.”

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. “Easy for you to say! You don't have the pressure, the expectations hanging over your head like a damn guillotine! You have everything on a silver platter whenever and however you want!” he say furiously.

His words are a punch to the gut. The simmering tension between you and your father explodes in your mind.

“You think I don't know the pressure? Do you have any idea what it's like living under my father's shadow? To be constantly judged, to have every decision questioned?” you say with a shaking voice.

Charles stares at you, his anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise.

“I may not be a driver, but I understand this world, Charles... I understand the pressure.” You say as tears form in your eyes.

Your vulnerability hangs heavy in the air. Shame washes over Charles, realizing the depth of his lashing out.

“Y/n, I...” he said with a soft voice.

He reaches out, but you flinches back, a wall of hurt suddenly separating the both of you.

You take a shaky breath. “I think I should go.” you sigh tiredly. “Nice talk.”

You turn towards the door, your heart heavy with a mixture of disappointment and a newfound understanding of the burdens that the both of you share. You run out there with tears running down your cheeks, nothing could have been worse after what happened with your father, but now you lost a person you cared about despite everything.

***

The Italian Grand Prix is in full swing after the summer break. Mechanics scurry around the gleaming red Ferrari, the air thick with pre-race tension. Charles, however, finds himself distracted. He steals constant glances towards the Red Bull garage across the pit lane, searching for a familiar face.

He spots you, standing by Christian, your interaction is tense, your father screams at you while you just only nod at his words while holding a few tears in your shy eyes. A pang of fury shoots through Charles, followed by a wave of regret. His outburst in Austria hangs heavy in the air, a barrier he needs to break. He, despite everything, is moderately informed about what happened between you and your father thanks to Max, and it hurts him not to have approached you much sooner.

The pit lane opens to finally start the grand prix, snapping Charles back to reality. He throws on his helmet, a steely resolve replacing his earlier anxiety.

***

Charles finishes a strong second, the podium it's a little bit bittersweet. He emerges from the car, the cheers of the tifosi a distant echo. All he can think about is you.

He finds you in the Red Bull hospitality, a hesitant knock on the door of your office, announcing his arrival. The room falls silent as he enters.

You stand by the window, your back towards him. Your posture is stiff, but Charles can sense the tremor in your shoulders.

“Y/n?” he say quietly.

You turn slowly, your eyes guarded. The hurt in your gaze is a mirror to his own regret.

“Charles...” you say softly.

There's an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Charles takes a deep breath.

“I can't apologize enough for Austria. I... I was a complete idiot.” he says.

“Words don't erase the hurt, Charles.” you say in a low voice.

He takes a step closer. “I know. But I wanted you to know... these past few weeks, all I could think about was your words. About the pressure, about being judged... You opened my eyes to a side of you I never knew existed.” He reaches out, hesitantly offering his hand. “And in doing so, I realized... how much I care about you.”

You stare at his hand, then back at his face. A flicker of vulnerability crosses your features before you speak.

“You can't just say things like that, Charles. Not after everything.”

“I know, but I have to try. Because the alternative... the alternative is losing you completely.” says sincerely. He sees a flicker of emotion in your eyes, a flicker that speaks of hope.

“This won't be easy, Charles. My father... Things haven't been so smooth lately between him and I.”

“I know. But maybe, just maybe, we can face it together... Like you said, we both understand this world, the pressure. Maybe we can be each other's support system, not just through wins and losses, but through everything else.” he say softly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You look at him, a question in your eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” you asked him.

Charles takes a chance, the weight of his feelings pulling him forward. He steps closer, your faces inches apart.

“I'm saying that... give me another chance, please. A chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.” he whispers. “Please, if you want, I beg you on my knees... I'll do anything, but please give me a chance.”

The air crackles with unspoken emotions. You lean in, closing the distance between the both of you. At first, the kiss is hesitant and at the same time soft and slow, then deepens, a promise unspoken but understood.

Pulling away, Charles searches your soft eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he smiled while blushing.

You smile softly, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes.

“Maybe... How about we can do something casual between us, not business related, just to get to know each other better?” you say shyly.

A grin spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him like a victory lap. “It's a deal darling.” you giggled.

He leans in for another kiss, the roar of the engines and the crowd outside a distant echo of the race that's just begun – the race for your hearts.

***

The air crackles with a different kind of tension now. You and Charles break apart from your long awaited kiss, foreheads resting against each other. Relief, hope, and a spark of defiance dance in your eyes.

“We should probably get going before someone sees us, don't you think?” you whisper shyly.

Charles nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He reaches for the door, ready to usher you out, but it swings open before he can touch it.

Standing in the doorway is Christian, his face a thundercloud. The celebratory atmosphere in the room evaporates, replaced with a chilling silence.

“Y/n! My office. Now.” he says with a strong and demanding voice.

You flinch, your body tensing and shaking at your father's tone, but Charles steps forward, his stance protective.

“Actually, she's not going anywhere Horner.” Charles says calmly.

Christian's gaze snaps to him, fury replacing the icy anger. “And who are you to tell me what to do in my own hospitality suite, Leclerc?” he scoffs.

“Someone who cares about her, a concept you seem to have forgotten.” Charles says with a hard and firm voice.

The room collectively gasps. You reaches out a hand to touch Charles' arm, a silent plea for caution. But Charles shakes you off gently, his green eyes boring into Christian's.

“You judge her, belittle her, just because of your own insecurities. You push her away with every harsh word and raised eyebrow.” Charles says defending you, maybe you and him weren't that close, but probably Max told him about what happened between you and Christian.

Christian lunges forward, his hand raised in a threatening gesture. But Charles doesn't back down, he catches Christian's wrist mid-air, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Don't. Even. Think. About. Touching. Her.” Charles says in a low, dangerous voice. “And if you do, you'll deal with me, is that clear?”

Christian throws Charles a withering look before turning and storming out of the room. The silence that follows is deafening. No one had ever spoken to your father that way, not even Max or Jos, but the fact that Charles was the first to do it was something... Shocking, especially for you.

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze flickering between the slammed door and Charles. “I... Charles.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He whispers back. “Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong sweetie.” he takes your hand in his. “He's such a jerk.” He pulls you towards the door, a newfound determination in his eyes. “We're leaving, now. We can deal with your father later, together, okay?” he says.

You hesitate for a moment, then you nodded in agreement, as you walk out of the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn and whispers follow. But you don't care anymore, you have each other, and that's all that matters.

You two step out into the cool evening air, the roar of the Italian crowd a distant hum. Your hands are intertwined, a silent promise against the warm setting sun.

You two may have a long road ahead, filled with challenges and disapproval, but you'll face it together, a united front against the storm.

“Thank you... For what you did in there.” You say softly, he smiles and brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“It's nothing ma belle, I know I may not know the whole story since the begging, but I'm willing to help you.” he says the same in a whisper.

“I just want to know... Who told you about it?” you asked softly.

“Max told me.” He says and you laugh.

“I thought so! It doesn't bother me that he did it anyway.” you say and let out a giggle while you shake your head. “I think it's something you deserved to know.”

He smiles at you tenderly. “How about we forget this mess with your father with a good pizza, huh?” he says softly.

“And where would we go?” you shyly asked him.

“We can go to my hotel room... Unless you don't want to, I know it would be awkward but... I don't know, ugh.” He said and started babbling, you smiled seeing him like that, it seemed like the cutest thing of all, seeing him nervous about doing something simple with you.

You smiled and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “I would love to eat pizza with you in your hotel room Charlie.” you say softly. “So it's a date?”

“It's a date.” He says softly as he kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle. “A date between Ferrari's golden boy and the red bull girl.” he says in a whisper while letting out a giggle.

You smiled tenderly. “You couldn't have said it better.” You whispered back.

To think that a couple of months ago you had not imagined that situation, to see Charles against your father and defending you like a true gentleman, but here you two were. Maybe at the beginning not everything was rosy or he simply didn't tolerate you at all due to false "nepotism" status around you, but you both understand how difficult and complicated this world is, maybe with different perspectives, but you two are there to support each other in the ups and downs.

[slushycoookie]

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.5

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: Lactation kink, pregnancy sex, childbirth, MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: In the final stage of your pregnancy, you find out a new thing your husband likes.

A/N: This will be the "last" part of this mini-series. I'm leaving it open-ended just in case I have another one in me. But count this as complete! I appreciate anyone who's been reading! (And I totally forgot to make a tag list. I will do that next time I do a series.)

“Aww, you shouldn’t have!” You hold up the hundredth spider suit onesie designed for an infant.

Miles' small smile was something you couldn’t be upset at, “It's no problem. But there's more.” He points to the tissue paper, causing you to look deeper inside. You gasp at the hand-drawn baby book. It's colorful and bright with a story about how a young spider made her way to find her family.

“Miles! This is adorable.” You squeal with excitement, holding it up for Miguel who was watching from afar with a smile. You motion Miles over to proceed to kiss his face with gratitude. Miles accepts your appreciation before politely pulling away.

“You're welcome.”

“My turn!” Another spider jumped in with another present.

For some reason, you've never pictured yourself having a baby shower. At HQ, out of all places. Plenty at Spider Society wanted to give you gifts to celebrate the baby. Which mainly consisted of their spider merch for babies.

Others were thoughtful. Hobie gave you a few CDs of punk music for the baby. He said it was supposed to help with developmental growth. Pavitr and Gwen collaborated on buying some baby toys. It was mainly stuffed animals. Somehow you also noticed the stuffed version of their spider personas in there. And Margo gave a few video games that also helped the development of the baby. Although these weren't going to be used until your child was big enough to hold a controller.

You were ecstatic to have a large circle who loved and cared for you genuinely.

“Oh, you're…leaking.” A spider pointed out. You looked down and your blouse was getting stained by milk droplets from your breasts.

Miguel was immediately by your side with a few wipes, “We can stop if you want-”

“I'm ok.” You said, “It's just a little milk.” In fact, it's been happening occasionally throughout your third trimester. Milk staining your shirts, preparing for your baby. Your husband lingered by your side for a moment and you caught him glancing at your breasts. Probably out of concern.

After getting home from the baby shower, Miguel insisted you relax on the couch. Making you watch him carry endless boxes from the party through the portal, setting them inside the house.

“I guess we don't have to worry about getting baby clothes for a while, huh?” You joked, losing count on how many baby spider onesies you all received.

“I'm not having our daughter just wear clothes that look like spider suits.” Miguel sighed, looking amongst all the boxes. Trying to figure out where to put them. You stood, ready to come to his aid. “I got this, baby. Go sit and relax.”

“I've been sitting all day.” You reminded him. “I need something to do.” You picked up a marker and started to go through what was in each box and label it. The two of you agreed to keep a few boxes in the house and put the rest in the garage. ‘It's what they're for’ as your husband would say.

It was a comfortable silence while you two dove in the boxes. After spending all day surrounded by people who constantly congratulated you, giving you stuff you needed, it was nice to enjoy the quiet. You two were pretty much ready for the due date in a couple of weeks. Miguel was not going to stand being underprepared if he couldn’t help it.

The boxes were almost done, your husband paused and honed on your breasts. “It's happening again.”

“God.” You huffed, going to the nearest bathroom. Quickly grabbing some paper towels. You understood that you had to produce milk for your baby, but it was getting a little annoying.

“Shut up.” You heard your husband say. It caused you to peek out from the doorframe in question.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Miguel quickly said, “It's just Ravage.”

You blinked, decided to not indulge and went back to cleaning yourself up. You were actually surprised by Ravage's willing cooperation throughout your pregnancy. The alien was still insatiable though and you were hesitant at first. Once the doctor reported that you should expect to have a healthy pregnancy, the symbiote was on to have sex a lot. Not letting a baby bump stop them from getting what they want..

It was actually nice though since your hormones have been off the charts. If you even looked at Miguel, you'd get horny. Not caring where you were at all. As long as he fucked you.

“Need some help?”

Miguel asked, standing by the door with a washcloth in his hand. He closes the door to the bathroom to create some more privacy like you two didn’t have.

“It's ok.” You try to decline but he takes away the paper towels, tossing them in the trash.

“It's not. Let me.” He dabs the warm, damp cloth on your breast. A much better feeling than the coarse texture the paper towel gave. You didn’t protest, knowing he was going to care for you in any way he can. But you watched his eyes.

They were honed in on your breasts. As if he was under a spell. Enraptured by the rag soaking up the milk droplets from your nipples. You held your breath, worried that if a small gust escaped you, it would break him from his trance.

“I think you're good.” Miguel snaps himself out of it, shooting you a small smile.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm ok. Why?”

You weren't sure whether to bring up what you just saw. Maybe it was your hormones acting up again. “Nothing. Nevermind.” You reassure him with a kiss.

While getting ready for your due date, you wanted to get ahead on things. You spoke to Jess on some breastfeeding tips. You figured it would be a good idea to ask since you've been leaking every five minutes.

The spider woman helps you on how to hold the baby, demonstrating by holding the air. You were listening to what she was saying, but you wondered if it would be better to have a visual aid.

“I would show you with Gerry, but he's a bit old to be breastfeeding now.” Jess laughs, “But I think there's something that could help.”

She shows you the breastfeeding dolls. Designed to do exactly what the name says. A baby with its mouth partially opened, giving you ample amount of practice to hold your baby correctly while they're feeding. And you could customize the baby too.

You quickly bought one, excited when it arrived a few days later. You undressed your fake baby from the plastic, eager to try it out.

With the help of Jess’ advice and a few diagrams from the pamphlet that was with your baby, you practiced. Holding the child close to your chest, making sure the mouth was positioned correctly so your not real kid was fed. How convenient that while you were practicing, milk started to leak from your nipple again. Into your fake baby's mouth.

“What are you doing?”

You turn from your position on the couch to see your husband, back from work. His face twisted in question. “Practicing. Wanna see?”

“Practicing what?” Miguel hesitantly walks over, answering his question as he sees you and the fake baby. “You need to practice breastfeeding?”

You nod, still cradling the child in your arms. “I want to make sure I get it right. I don't want to mess it up.”

“You won't mess it up.” He sits beside you, “I know you won’t.”

“Thanks. But I just wanna make sure.” You go back to pretend feeding your baby. Miguel is still next to you, watching you practice. It wasn't weird, you figured he wants to see how it works.

“And you need a fake baby to practice?”

“Yes, Miguel.” You give him a quick kiss to make him hush and you think that works but…

“This baby doesn't have fangs. Our baby might.”

You purse your lips, “I know. We already talked about the genetic make-up of our kid.” It was concluded that there was a strong chance your daughter would have fangs and red eyes. Since the percentage of spider genes in your spouse was 50/50. But you didn’t care. You'd love your daughter if she had eight eyes.

“Then maybe you should practice with something that has fangs.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “The baby design options were not that detailed. And we don't know any babies with fangs. Not that I'm saying to steal a baby, I'm just-”

Miguel takes the fake baby from you, placing it behind himself. Your eyes follow his movements when he turns you to face him.

“I have fangs.”

You blink, “They retract.”

“So?”

“So, I'm not going to breastfeed you.”

“Why not?” He looks at your chest again, still exposed from your practice. Milk leaking out once more.

You force out a chuckle, “Mig, you don't want to drink from my boob.”

“I didn't say that. Why are you implying that I don't want to taste?” His thumb presses against your nipple, drops of milk pouring down his digit. “It's food that helps feed our baby. It's not dangerous or anything.

You bite your lip as he flicks your nipple to watch the milk pour out. You didn’t want to admit out loud that seeing him like this was sexy.

“Is this you or Ravage being like this?”

Miguel leans forward, his body right above yours, “This is me and Ravage.”

“Oh.” Your face starts to get hot, “How long have you two been like this?”

“Since you started leaking. I'm not proud of the unnecessary thoughts I've had.” He ducks his head in embarrassment. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that your husband wants to suck on your tiddy.

“I don't mind.”

Miguel groaned, his hands gripping the couch. “Sure you don't. I feel like a…pervert.”

“You're not a pervert.” You reassure him by resting a hand on his cheek. “You're just…discovering something new.”

“That's putting it lightly.” Miguel starts to push away, shutting himself down from what he craved deep down. But you didn’t want him to make him feel ashamed. You wanted him to do it.

By taking his arm, you make him stay. Removing your shirt, ignoring the milk dripping down to the underside of your breast. You keep calm as Miguel’s eyes darken at the sight of you. Licking his lips at the sight of the liquid. “Do it. It's ok.”

He bends down after your permission, capturing a breast between his lips. Miguel sucks, his body rumbling at the taste of your milk. Because of your hormones, everything was dialed up to 11. The sensation of his lips on you was enough for your wetness to stir down below. An embarrassing whimper escapes you, while you clutch at him in need.

Miguel makes sure both of your breasts are tended to by licking a strip of excess milk up from your other breast. His groans fill the open space and your ears.

“You taste delicious.” He compliments after getting the remaining droplets from your skin. “Our baby will love it.”

You notice his bulge amongst his pants, “You're loving it too.”

Miguel’s hand dips inside past your sweatpants and underwear. The lightest touch amongst your folds makes you croon as he feels your wetness. “So are you.”

Miguel became relentless once he started tasting your breast milk. The two of you played it under the guise that you were practicing when this was nowhere near that. Whenever you two were alone and you started leaking, instead of using a tissue, he used his mouth. Collecting every ounce of milk that came from your nipple.

It was addicting.

Your husband taking turns with the symbiote, tongues lapping at your nipples, tasting every single drop. Satisfied for the day. Especially when it came during sex.

You wondered if your belly would be in the way but Miguel took care of that. Using his strength to make sure he did all of the work, not you.

He would secure you by gripping your thighs. Spreading your legs just right before lifting you up and sinking you down on his gigantic cock. You refrain him from taking his symbiote form while having sex during the last trimester, unsure if his larger length would affect the baby. But his normal body was more than enough.

You'd whine while taking him as he lazy thrusts up into you. His face buried in your chest as he did so. Sucking on any drop of milk, groaning with his movements. Your arousal coated his cock, easy for him to slip and slide right in. And then a sense of satisfaction waved over your body once you were finished.

You had to enjoy these moments while you still can.

Your due date was coming in a few days. In a perfect world, Miguel would stay by your side. Watching over you and ready to go once the big day arrived. Instead, there was an influx of anomalies popping up in different dimensions. Leaving your husband to take care of it.

Plans had to change. He connected his watch to yours so he'd be informed when you call him for the big moment. He promised to pick up right away. You noticed his annoyance of the change of plans, knowing he didn't like not being nearby while you were like this. But you took it in stride. Soon, your baby girl will be here in your world.

Miguel had to go once more, kissing you goodbye along with the usual spiel of what to do when your water breaks. You decided to do a once over the baby’s room for the fifth time this week. A wide range of emotions consumed you, from excitement to fear. You want to be a good caretaker for your daughter. But you didn’t want to mess it up. All the self-help parenting books in the world wouldn't help you with the real thing.

A strange rush of fluids went through your lower body, staining your pants and the floor in the baby's room. Did your water just break?

Sharp pains riddle your stomach as you lean on the crib for support. The baby was coming. You tried to call Miguel through your watch, taking slow, deep breaths. You weren't going to panic. You two had planned for this.

He wasn’t picking up.

You could hardly move. Any attempt committed shockwaves across your entire body. You can't have the baby here, by yourself in the baby room. So you called Lyla.

“Heyo! What can I do for ya-oh that's not good.” Lyla says while watching your hunched state.

“Where's my husband?”

The AI shows you a bunch of screens you couldn't understand at the moment. “Tech issue while on a mission. Margo and I are working on it but communication is currently difficult.”

“H-How long will it take?” You were hoping for a good answer, anything to soothe your worries.

“ETA is ten minutes for all communications to be back online.”

That was definitely something you were not looking for. “In ten minutes, I'll be having this baby-” You groan, a contraction hitting you. “I-Is it possible…to tell Miguel that our baby is coming?”

“I can but it'll be delayed. He won't get the message right away due to his location.”

“Would anyone get it at HQ?”

“Oh yeah, there’s no issues there.”

“Who's at Spider Society?”

Lyla did a scan. It was quick but in your current state, she took forever. “Ben is.”

“Will the message be delayed if you reach out to him?”

“No, he should get it instantly.”

You told Lyla to send messages to Miguel and his left-hand man. You knew your spouse was going to be upset that he missed the start of what would change both of your lives. But you don’t think you could wait for him any longer. With all the strength you could muster, you grab the baby bag and place it on your shoulder. It takes everything you can to maneuver to the living room so Ben could pick you up quickly.

To your relief he was there in a flash, blue eyes darting around to get a clear look at the situation.

“Hi, Benny.” You gave him a weary smile, “Can you get me to the hospital?”

He quickly nodded, putting the baby bag across his shoulders. “I can't wait to tell Miguel I came to the rescue. You think he'd give me a metal?”

“Maybe.” You pat his shoulder as he gently picks you up, positioning you tight as he goes through the portal.

Your husband made sure there was a maternity ward and a birthing center in the building. Making sure you get top-notch level care throughout your pregnancy. Right when Ben takes you in, Miguel picks right up.

“Are you okay? Lyla told me the baby's on the way.” Before you could answer, you whined, a contraction stopping your words completely. That was enough to answer his question. “I'm coming. Just breathe like in those exercises we saw, okay? Like this.”

He starts breathing through the watch in a certain rhythm and you follow it as your doctors put you in a room. You lean against the hospital bed, the nurses helping change you into a gown.

“I really need you here, Miggy.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were scared. You had nine months to overcome your fear but now that you’re facing it, you wanted him there.

“I'm coming. Don't worry.”

True to his word, Miguel is in the delivery room not long after. Still in his suit but instantly by your side. You felt much better by his presence, gripping his hand as the birth of your baby began.

The entire labor was eight hours. You were doped up with medication so you couldn’t tell. The trials and tribulations of pushing, Miguel holding your hand to help you through it all. Thank goodness for his spider strength. It was hell, you weren’t sure if you wanted to get pregnant again after this. But it was all worth it for your baby girl.

Gabriella was beautiful with her brown skin, gentle red eyes and curly brown hair. Almost a spitting image of her father. A person you two made together after going through constant efforts of conception.

Miguel wipes his eyes, unsuccessful at holding back tears of joy. “She's beautiful.” He kisses your daughter's head and then yours.

Ravage comes out, the symbiote getting a good look at the sleeping baby in awe. “She smells. Like baby powder.”

“She does.” You press your nose to your daughter’s head, taking in that new baby smell. “Thanks, Rav. For helping us have this baby.”

The alien gets taken back. You wanted to express your gratitude, knowing your baby wouldn’t be here without them. “You are welcome.”

“We’re not letting you babysit though.” Miguel says, making it clear.

“At least until Gabi's older.” You clarified.

Ravage hums, “Fine. As long as we can have intercourse again.”

Miguel fights the urge to pinch his nose while you giggle. “Of course. Don't worry about that.”

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Headcanon that Merlin listens to Arthur and the knight’s rambling because he just really enjoys listening to them talk

I’ve had this headcanon for a while and I’ve written about it a few times but never anything I liked enough to post. But I got reminded about it again so I thought I’d share here.

If anyone writes this, please just tag me here or on Ao3 and give credit. Thanks :))

Merlin realises pretty early on in Camelot that nobles are never forthcoming with information or talking.

He also learns that Arthur loves to ramble about his special interests or hyper-fixations, despite it being trained out of him from an early age.

ADHD Arthur has me in a chokehold most days and I really really hate Uther despite the source of angst.

Anyway, Merlin will act like he doesn’t know anything about hunting or swords even after he’s had a few months in Camelot and he’ll ask Arthur more and more questions till he starts rambling.

And Merlin loves it. He loves listening and getting a chance to relax and not be the constant ball of energy in the relationship. He gets Arthur talking about longbows or developments in battle strategy throughout history while they’re on rides or walking through the halls, or he asks about breaking the horses for riding, Camelot’s history, pretty much anything.

Arthur just thinks Merlin is genuinely curious about these things, but he realises Merlin hates hunting, he shouldn’t care about bow weight or arrows. And he can’t handle a sword to save his life so why would he be interested in why the discovery of counterbalance is important?

It’s not till he looks over during one of his rants and sees Merlin completely at ease that he realises Merlin just likes listening. Arthur pauses and Merlin frowns to ask why he stopped. Arthur isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth when it comes to Merlin and he knows better than to try and understand him. So he rolls his eyes, says something about making sure he was actually listening, to which Merlin reassures him he’s listening by repeating the last few things Arthur’s said, with his own understanding to show he’s interested, before telling Arthur to keep talking.

It spreads around the knights eventually and Merlin becomes the guy who listens to people. Leon, in particular, will spend time talking to Merlin about things he finds interesting because he’s never had anyone to listen to him before. Gwaine knows why Leon and Arthur are so happy to talk to Merlin because he experienced it too when Merlin said he wasn’t sick of having Gwaine around and talking ‘too much’ after his first time in Camelot.

He also gets a few skills along the way, he can pick a perfect sword for Arthur’s birthday present, learns a lot about the Druids from Percival and a lot of other things from the knights.

And the fics I wrote for this were entirely an excuse for me to ramble about why the capes in BBC Merlin were stupid and inaccurate, and the various other historical inaccuracies in the show, but that’s another thing.

[trans-academia]

On hair and anti-black transmasculinity

I wanted to share a journal entry I wrote a few days ago, just to see if someone could identify with it. Or if I'm sending it into the ether, that's cool too.

I've been thinking about gender today. I always feel so dysphoric whenever I take my hair down. Its so strange because my hair is the most feminine things about me. Its like I carry all of my feminine energy in my hair. Which makes sense concerning hair in Black American culture. But sometimes, I think its wrong to think of myself in that way because I'm transmasculine; almost like I'm betraying myself? I'm sure its internalized enbyphobia (?) (I'm not too sure how I feel about that either), as I'm still examining my relationship with Black womanhood, but also, I can't help but think of it as misogynior as well.

Like, my rejection of my natural fro is in part becasue I still outwardly present as a Black woman. And with that, I know that any masculinity attached to me will signal to people, black and non-black alike, that it is acceptable to treat me as an "ungendered woman-thing," as opposed to an ungendered Black woman.

Interestingly, if I imagine a hypothetical version of myself where I have an outwardly masculine appearance, but a feminine hairstyle (think butterfly locs), I feel an overwhelming sense of euphoria. Contrasting again with where I was yesterday, a feminine appearance with the hair to match left me underwhelmed. Not dysphoric nor euphoric. Partially because I'm used to that version of myself but also, there's a weird kind of pride I feel in being Black and hyperfeminine even when not fully identifying as a woman. By defying the misogynioristic notion that Black women cannot achieve femininity, or womanhood, I feel that I have triumphed over something.

And once more, when I hypothesize myself with an entirely masculine presentation, I feel apprehension, maybe wariness, as is expected of people who are Black and masculine in a white supremacist society.

If I were to make sense of all of these hypotheticals, they're all thought exercises on Black transmasculinity as it relates to Black humanity.

I know that whatever my appearance is, no matter how euphoric or dysphoric, my humanity will always be called into question. No matter the presentation of masculinity nor femininity, in any combination or expression on a Black body, there is not "safe" presentation. Thus is intersectionality. I cannot experience the trauma of gender identity or expression without the trauma of antiblack racism. The ungendering, the degendering of Blackness is intertwined with the ungendering and degendering of my transmasculinity.

Anyways, just some thoughts while I develop my theory of transwomanism.

[therealcocoshady]

Come inside

Eminem x Assistant!Reader

Author's note : so, funny thing... I got this request I really like and started writing to it. But I realized I needed to give it some sort of prequel, just to set context, y'know ? Long story short, I wrote something rather long and I could have waited until the whole thing was complete to post it on here, but I'm a really nice person and I thought you guys would enjoy it 😉. Stay tuned for part 2 !

CW : Implied smut but nothing NSFW. Tipsy reader. Marshall being a consent king. Coco pouring all of her energy into describing a kiss.

When you started working for Marshall, you had immediately developed a crush. How could you not ? Your boss was not only talented, he was also handsome, kind and funny as hell. You had a blast working for him and, even though being a personal assistant to a celebrity had never been your dream job, it sort of turned into it. Only a fool would complain about being paid to hang out with a talented musician, helping them managing their day to day life and enjoying a lot of perks, such as trips and occasional presents. Sure, the job was demanding and didn’t really leave a lot of room for personal life, but your boss definitely made up for that. It all started during a work trip to Los Angeles. 

You had been working for Marshall for a little over a year and you were used to trips to California. He often went there, whether it was to work with Dre or to meet with people from Interscope. It was often the same song and dance : you did the coordination for the trip, took care of the day to day management of his schedule and, while he was busy making music in Dre’s studio, you were on call but allowed to do whatever you wanted. You had heard a lot about celebrities that demanded that their assistant be with them at all time, ready to indulge their every whims but Marshall was pretty low-maintenance, especially when he was in studio mode. As long as the his schedule was coordinated correctly and his lunch was delivered on time, he didn’t care what you did or how you chose to spend the day. You actually came to enjoy the work trips to California, which were less hectic than life in Detroit. You got to sleep in a comfy suite in a nice hotel, go to the beach, lounge by the pool, answering the occasional email while your boss was in the studio. All you had to do was meet him in the morning for breakfast, keep him informed of his daily schedule before he went about his day, be available if he needed to call you to sort something out (he never did), and join him for dinner, either at the hotel’s restaurant, in his room or at Dre’s. You also went with him to a couple of parties. At first, you didn’t think you would enjoy the events and attended them in a strictly professional capacity, but as time went on and you got to know Dre and his team, you let your hair down and allowed yourself to have fun. Everyone in the Aftermath family was friendly and the parties were always really great. During one of them, preceding the launch of Gin&Juice, you were offered the opportunity to sample taste the flavors and, one thing leading to another, you ended up indulging in gin-based cocktails with everyone. Being a lightweight when it comes to drinking and handling your liquor, it didn’t take too much for you to be tipsy, showing your boss a side of you he had never seen. 

While the two of you had always gotten along very well and had a friendly relationship, you usually kept things on the professional side. Due to the nature of your job, you knew a lot about him and his personal life but you didn’t share too much about yours and, since he was very respectful of people’s wish for privacy, he definitely didn’t pry or ask too many questions. However, the liquor had you being a little more talkative and, on the way back to your hotel rooms, you ended up opening up. You weren’t too sure how the subject turned to your love life, but you certainly ended up laughing out loud when he brought up the topic of boyfriends. 

What’s so funny ? He asked with a confused look on his face. 

That you think I have boyfriends, you chortled. That’s… hilarious. 

Sorry, he chuckled. Girlfriends, then ? 

What I mean is that being your assistant doesn’t exactly make dating easy, you explained with a smile. You’re a great boss but, believe it or not, you’re the biggest cockblock ! 

Am I ? He chortled. 

Oh yeah, you giggled. Apparently, not a lot of guys are willing to accommodate that kind of schedule. And the ones that do usually end up blowing it when they find out I work for you. 

Do they ? He mused. 

Are you kidding ?! It’s a nightmare ! Last guy I dated was great. But when he found out I work for you, he absolutely lost it ! You chuckled. He was absolutely obsessed and he spent all night asking questions about you and was pissed when I told him I wasn’t allowed to answer any of them. And don’t get me started on the guy who went on a rant about how he’d never trust me, since I work for a « sexy millionnaire ». His words, not mine, mind you. 

Wow, I’m sorry, he chortled. I feel for you. 

Eh, it’s fine, you shrugged. You kind of ruined me for other men anyway. 

Oh yeah ? He asked with a grin. How so ? 

Well, you certainly made me rethink my standards, you giggled. I can’t go for the first loser that comes my way when I work for a really handsome man who takes me on cool trips and gives me presents. 

Should I stop being such a nice boss, then ? He grinned. 

Please don’t, you giggled. I really enjoy working for you. I can’t complain. 

Even if I’m a cockblock ? He asked with a smirk. 

Yeah, you said with a laugh. That’s your one and only flaw. 

Is it ? He mused. I would have thought you’d find quite a few of them… I know I’m not easy to put up with. 

You’re fine, you said. 

Good to know, he chuckled. 

And you’re really fine, too, you added without a second thought. 

You didn’t even catch yourself, not realizing that you had just told your boss that you thought it was really attractive. And to help matters worse, your own flirty facial expressions really flew over your own head. It was only when Marshall looked at you with a smirk on his face and returned the compliment that you realized what you had done. 

Why, thank you, Y/N, he said with a smug face. I think you’re pretty fine too. 

Oh my god, you said as you blushed. I’m so sorry ! 

Come on, it’s no big deal, he chuckled. I can think of worse things than being complimented by someone like you. 

Someone like me ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Well… You know, he said as he gestured towards your body. Come on. You’ve seen yourself. 

His words, the gesture, the look on his face made you blush even harder. Not only could you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, warmth was invading your whole body, and the gin was definitely not helping. The rational part of your brain was trying to tell you to lower your gaze and go to bed but, unfortunately, it was being silenced by the other part. The irrational one. The one controlled by your hormones, that was urging you to jump this man’s bones. 

You’re making me blush, Mr Mathers, you said in a sultry voice. You’re such a big flirt. 

You’re one to talk, he whispered. Telling me you think I’m fine. You’re the one making me blush. 

Am I in trouble, boss ? You asked in a voice that was all but innocent. 

I think the headache you’ll have tomorrow will be enough trouble, he said with a playful grin. 

I didn’t drink that much, you giggled. 

He hummed and chuckled before taking a look at you. You were in front of our hotel room, standing close to each other. You smiled and looked into his baby blue eyes. You had always been so drawn to them. You liked everything about his eyes, from the color to the depth of the emotions they conveyed. They had an intensity to them and, most of the time, you managed to refrain yourself from staring too long, knowing you could drown in these waters. But in this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself. And when you did, it was only to look at his lips for a second, before holding his gaze again. You didn’t even need to speak. Your eyes were doing all the talking, supported by the biting of your lower lip and the soft sigh that escaped you. 

How much ? He asked carefully. 

Enough to have the courage to tell you to come closer, you said as you batted your eyelashes. 

I think you’re a little drunk, he said with a slight shake of his head. 

I’m sober enough to give informed consent, you purred. 

His lips twitched into a smile, though you could see him try and hide it. He held your gaze and inched a little closer. You weren’t touching but the atmosphere was heavy and had your heart pounding. You smiled to yourself, noticing how evident his attraction  was. You still had it. You still had game. He was close enough so that you could notice his breath hitching. And he got even closer, his forehead touching yours, one of his hands brushing against your hip. 

Is this ok ? He whispered. 

More than ok, you murmured at you leaned in and cupped his jaw. Is this ok ? 

He didn’t even reply. Simply nodded with a grin, before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. You could tell that he was testing the waters and you were quick to respond, your other hand finding its way to the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. It became more urgent, more intense. His arm wrapped around your waist and he slowly pushed you against the door to your room, as he kept on kissing you with a passion that made your brain glitch. It was everything a kiss should be. Soft and hungry at the same time. Warmth was invading your chest as Marshall captured all of your senses. You lost track of the time, of where you were. All that mattered was the lingering taste of Diet Coke on Marshall’s tongue, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the softness of his fingers on your cheek and the sensuality of him playfully biting your lip before your mouths reluctantly parted ways to allow for some much needed breath catching. When you opened your eyes, you saw him blink a couple of times as he regained consciousness. Evidently, he was as dizzy as you, the newfound chemistry absolutely exhilarating. Your eyes met again and the sparks of attraction were obvious and, this time, none of you needed to ask, practically jumping on each other, your bodies mirroring each other’s raw and unguarded desire, your chest pressed against his as his mouth crashed on yours with a fervor that took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer to you, his body moulding you as every inch of space between the two of you disappeared. Your lips moved in a desperate rhythm, tasting, exploring, as if making up for all the time they’d spent keeping their distance. Your nails lightly raked down his chest, sending a jolt of heat straight through him. He groaned into the kiss, pulling you even closer, his other hand gripping your waist with a possessiveness that matched the urgency in his kiss. You responded eagerly, your tongue tangling with his, and the kiss became a wild, feverish dance of lips and breath. Every touch was charged with a need that neither of you could ignore. When you finally pulled away again, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding as if they’d run a marathon. Marshall’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his breath ragged as he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

Holy shit, he muttered. That was… Wow. 

I don’t want to stop, you said in a voice that betrayed your hunger for him. 

Then don’t, he whispered, pulling you back in for another searing kiss. 

It was as if you’d both been craving unknowingly craving for this. It felt right. There was something about the way you held on to each other, the exhilaration of newness mixing with an odd familiarity. It was all but foreign, and he seemed to know all the right ways to touch you, that had your pussy throbbing, aching with desire for him. 

Come inside, you pleaded in between kisses. 

To your room ? He asked breathily. 

Yeah, sure, that too, you shrugged. 

For all you cared, he could have his way with you in the hallway. He let go just long enough for you to fumble with the keycard and, as soon as you stepped in your suite, he was all over you again. You nearly tripped as you made your way in, both of your desires so urgent that you didn’t even make it to the bed. Not until round two anyway. In the heat of the moment, caution was thrown to the wind. You didn’t care that he was your boss. You didn’t care that it might be weird in the morning. Neither did he, it seemed. All that mattered was your carnal need for each other, your senses only focusing on pleasure, touching and tasting each other as the room filled with moans and whimpers for a night that seemed never-ending. 

Only the night did end and, as you woke up alone in bed, naked and wrapped in the bedsheets that reeked of sex and your boss’s cologne, you knew you had to have a much needed talk. You had never thought of yourself as a coward, but you sure as hell didn’t feel too good as you knocked on his door, unsure of how he felt about what had happened and a bit upset that you couldn’t even hide behind excuses of alcohol clouding your judgement. You had wanted this and it was time to face the music. There was a bit of awkwardness as he opened the door and greeted you, before allowing you to step into his suite. You could sense the weight of what had happened in the atmosphere, none of you being sure where to start. You decided to do what you did best : focus on work. 

The car to take you to Dre’s studio will be there in 20, you informed him. The chauffeur will pick you up at 4 and drive you to the airport for our flight back to Detroit. No lunch delivered at the studio today since you’re going out with Dre. I will pack your bags and I’ll meet you at the airport. I have texted Dre’s assistant and she’ll have energy drinks and snack ready for you when you arrive. I know you don’t do too well when you haven’t slept. 

Thanks, he hummed. Is 20 minutes enough for a talk ? I’d like to… sort things out before we start the day. 

Of course, you said as you tried to sound as neutral as possible - not willing to let your anxiety show. 

You stared at each other awkwardly for a second and he gestured for you to sit on the couch. 

Are you alright ? He asked carefully. 

Yeah, you hummed. Are you ? 

Of course. Look… last night was amazing and I don’t want you to think that I regret anything, because I don’t. But you work for me and it complicates things.

It does, you agreed. I don’t have regrets either, but I think we should keep things professional. I actually like working for you and I know I’m good at my job. I’ve worked too hard for one night to mess things up. 

Agreed, he said. We’ve got something good here. 

So, what happens in LA stays in LA ? You suggested. 

Exactly, he said with a smile. 

You both sighed in relief, happy to be on the same page. Just like that, the talk shifted to something work-related, and it was back to business as usual. You both went about your day and met again when you boarded the private plane for your flight back to Detroit. During the flight, you attempted to read a book but you could feel the atmosphere heavy, as well as Marshall staring at you. You didn’t say anything, though, figuring it would take a little while for things to go back to normal. It was probably a good thing that you were flying back home, getting to sleep in your own place rather than in a hotel room next to his. Going back to the studio would probably help too. The sooner you’d go back to working like usual, the better it would be. You didn’t talk much and simply wished each other a good night before parting ways as the chauffeur dropped you at your place before heading to Marshall’s. 

You spent an awful evening, trying to shake feelings of frustration. You attempted to pamper yourself and have a spa night at home but, as you lathered your skin with lotion, you could only think about Marshall’s touch, and how you wished it were his hands against your skin. And it didn’t get much better when you decided to touch yourself before bed, struggling to get off, your bullet vibrator obviously not comparing to the man who had made you see stars the night before. You were starting to get there when your doorbell rang, making you grunt as you quickly tossed the toy to the side and put your pajama shorts back before going to open the door, ready to yell at whoever thought it was ok to bother you at 11PM. Your heart dropped when you saw Marshall standing there, holding the scarf you had worn on the plane. 

Hey. I know it’s late but you left it in the car, so I figured I’d bring it back to you, he said as he gestured to the scarf. 

Thank you, you said softly. It could have waited until Monday, though. You didn’t have to drive here so late. 

It’s no big deal, he shrugged. I, uh… Mentally, I’m still in LA. 

Oh, you mean the time zone ? 

Yeah, sure, that too, he muttered. 

You held his gaze, understanding what he meant. You scoffed softly and stepped closer, taking the scarf from his hands, your fingers brushing against his as you did so. You felt the tension, some sort of electric current coursing through your veins when you touched. Letting go of what had happened in LA seemed impossible. You bit your lip and cursed your brain and dripping wet cunt for what you were about to do. 

Do you want to come inside ? You offered. 

Inside your apartment ? He asked as a grin formed on his lips. 

Sure. That, too, you said in a sultry voice before pulling him inside of your apartment. 

[jacevelaryonswife]

Hiding all of our sins from the daylight | Part Two

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

summary: Even if you were willing to forget what happened, when you saw the prince that morning you knew that your relationship would never be the same.

word count: 3.191

tags: slight angst and adult themes

masterlist — previous part

A bond germinated between the prince and you as the days went by. There was no sin in your conversations, but a servant could never be friends with a nobleman, and above all: a woman could never be friends with a man. Although you believed that the existing dynamics with Jacaerys Velaryon did not fit into any of the previous options. It was your duty to be available to the prince of Dragonstone for what he wanted, and at the time, he needed a thoughtful listener.

"I don't want to fill my mother's head with my worries, even though I know she would listen. She is the queen and we are at war, it’s not time for this," was his justification.

The trust between you has developed slowly.

How are you feeling? Do you want to say something? Do you need anything?

It was the questions that guided the days following the incident with the wine. Over time, the prince began to report his dissatisfaction with the black council, either because of the way the queen didn’t let him act or how the other lords did not respect her enough.

"I just want to be useful for her cause, but she sees me as an incapable little boy," he shouted one of the times that the queen did not allow him to guard with Vermax.

"The queen cares about your safety, my prince. She suffers enough from the death of Prince Lucerys, she doesn't want to risk your life.”

“I'm not going to die!”

"You can't guarantee that, my prince."

And despite sometimes regretting not being formal enough in your answers, the prince showed satisfaction in the sincerity of your words more than once. Obviously no mention of your conversations with him was made for the other girls, you found it too dangerous.

And if there was anything beneficial for you, it was the opening that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir gave so that your thoughts and feelings were also exposed. Superficial at first, experimental, but that became more intimate over the weeks.

"I try to keep myself constantly busy to ease my concerns about the war, but it's not working as I would like. Every night before bed I think about the worst,” you confessed a day after dinner, during the hour of the bat.

“Me too.”

The conversations became routine during breakfast while you cleaned his chambers and after dinner when you helped him sleep. Secretly, those were your favorite moments throughout the day, although you didn't want to admit it for a while.

The only problem with intimacy was to make you forget your place.

Sometimes, almost, an unweighted response was almost directed to the prince. Other times the physical comfort seemed to extrapolate while you smoothed his dark curls, although he did not manifest discomfort. He never did, actually. Maybe that influenced your behavior around him, especially when he began to reciprocate the attempt of comfort, touching your hand with nothing but respect and delicacy, although firm enough to be felt while you confessed your fears to him.

It was dangerous to allow such closeness to the prince.

You were no stranger to the stories of servants who fell in love with their lords, reciprocated or platonic, it was not something you sought to fantasize, promising yourself that you would immediately move away in the first different twinge in your heart. Although, dealing with feelings was not that simple.

That night, the prince was enthusiastic about the diplomatic experience with the Freys, telling every detail of the conversation accurately. He seemed quite proud to be useful, even the frown present in his feature in the last few days had disappeared.

“When I was a child, Viserys told me the Iron Throne would be mine one day,” Jace commented with a rare smile these days.

"He told?" You asked, knowing very well that it was true.

"A long time ago, before his health got worse, I think I was six years old," he replied on the other side of the table, keeping his smile open.

"Have you ever imagined yourself there?" A silly question, you thought.

“Sometimes, especially before war. Now I feel like I'm cheating on my mother,” his face hardened softly as he looked down.

"You are the heir of the Queen, it is not wrong to imagine your future," you tried to comfort him with the obviousness of the situation, although you understood what was going on in the prince's head and heart.

“I know, but just seems wrong,” he countered, looking at you. “How about you?”

“Me?”

"Have you never imagined yourself being the Queen?"

That made you chuckle. "There is a barrier that people like me should not overcome, even in thoughts," you almost laughing at him.

"Please, everyone has thought about sitting on the iron throne," he leaned totally against the chair, watching you with frowning eyebrows and a smile on his lips. as he totally leaned against the chair.

"I never thought such a absurd," you reinforced.

"I doubt it, have you never thought about being a noblewoman?"

"Of course I thought! I would be pleased to be the ugly daughter that no lord wants to marry, so I could enjoy my position without having only my side a decrepit old man as lord husband. But the Queen? I've never dared so much."

He laughed loudly and his eyes almost closed. "Well, I think it's a good plan, but I believe you would be a fine Queen."

That took you by surprise.

The absurdity of the statement made your eyes widen and your cheeks warm up. "And you will be a fine King," you replied with a giggle, doing little of what he had said - even you believed faithfully in your own statement.

Suddenly, you felt his gaze endure on yours in a different, more intense way, as if... he was seeing you, totally seeing you.

And that made your heart warm.

No, no!

“I must go, my prince. It's late,” you stood up immediately. "Do you need anything?"

He took a while to respond, shaking his head negatively. "N-no, I don't," getting up to accompany you to the door. "Listen, I- I have to say something to you."

Your heart was beating faster than usual and continuing in the presence of the prince did not improve the situation. You didn't know why you felt so suddenly affected, but you imagined that it was the ideal time to reassess the proximity to him.

“I would like to thank you for the support in these weeks, for listening to me,” he said.

"You don't have to thank me, my prince, it's my duty," you exhibited a restrained smile, holding your hands in front of your body.

“I know it's just-“

The previous look that made your heart warm returned, however, more nervous, afraid as he approached you. His hands held your face gently, not giving you time to move away before he leaned over to touch your lips. You froze in place, not being able to move a single member, even after the prince had moved away with terror in his eyes.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't want to disrespect you, I promise," he said in despair, faster than he intended. "This is not going to happen again, I-

"It won't," you said, heart almost coming out of the chest, "We can't do that, Jace, I'm your servant- that-"

"It was my fault, I'm the one who has to beg for your forgiveness, I dishonored you," he almost spoke too loudly, almost.

"You didn't dishonor me!" You exclaimed as if it were obvious. "But that can't happen again. You are the heir to the iron throne and I am just a servant of low birth, there is no hope for us," your voice almost failed.

When Jace's eyes found the ground, his posture changed, the nervousness turned into something you didn't know how to identify, even though your own anguish was still very vivid while your heart beat fast.

"It's unfair," was all he said when he looked at you again.

“Indeed.”

A squeeze formed in your chest every second that your eyes remained connected, along with a restlessness that you did not know resided in your body until now. No, no, no...

In a bold attitude, you held his hands, uncertain of what to say, uncertain of what to do and uncertain of what you felt for him. It wasn't possible. Nothing, not a single word came out of your mouth while your heart beat faster and faster.

You shouldn't, you knew that, but maybe... maybe...

It was your turn to approach him, cautiously, absorbed in the brown of his iris and the way he mirrored your look.

There was no hurry to meet your lips this time, nor does it take long to be reciprocated. It was the kind of affection that women should have only with their lords husbands in the intimacy of their chambers, not with the prince of the kingdom whom you served and could harm yourself if you were caught.

But it seemed so right.

Your heart pumped soft fire through your body as the kiss gained layers, encouraging you to intertwine your fingers with his. It was not lascivious or obscene, but it involved your body during the act and made you float in the sweetness of his lips before it came to an end mutually.

Your hand slid to the side of his flushed face, smoothing his cheek gently. Even though part of your mind dealt with the turbulence of the situation, the other was delighted with the fullness of serenity.

"I've never been with a woman," he murmured about your touch, reluctantly. "I never wanted to ruin a woman outside of marriage."

Oh. That took you by surprise.

In fact, that brought you to reality again, but without the previous panic.

"You did it right," you comforted him with a restrained smile, feeling nervous. "There is no shame in that."

"I know, but I don't feel secure thinking about it."

Honestly, you didn't know what to say, but you knew that that situation could take a dangerous turn if it were prolonged. He could not consider such an act even for a second, so you just said goodbye to him immediately.

"It's late, you should rest, my prince."

The storm in his eyes almost snatched you together, but there was still prudence in your mind. There was no dispute on his part, allowing you to be involved by the coldness of the corridors until your rooms shared with the other servants. Although sleep wrapped around your body quickly, the prince stole your dreams with memories of what had happened.

When the nightingale time came, his image seemed almost palpable to your eyes. All you could remember were the lips of the princes against yours, the proximity, the softness of his hand, the way he looked at you.

It was dangerous.

All that was dangerous.

Especially for you. Nurturing an additional affection for the prince of the kingdom was a path of no return for ordinary people. There was no hope for you. There was no future between you. He would marry a lady of a important family and have little princes while you would perform your duty serving the next royal generations.

Even if you were willing to forget what happened, when you saw Jace that morning you knew that your relationship would never be the same.

"Good morning, my prince," was all you said when you entered his chambers.

Judging by the way the prince's gaze found yours, you believed he thought the same. “Good morning,” he replied in front of the window.

You left the breakfast on the table and went to organize the luxurious bed - unkneading the sheets and squeezing the pillows without looking at him while doing your work. Even though it was a rational attitude, the smell that emanated from the fabric transported you directly to last night, to the warmth of his lips, to the comfort of your hands and to the soft fire that warmed your veins.

Suddenly, you found yourself wanting more.

The subtle spark quickly turned into a fire, making you want to dive into bed and be surrounded by his smell, wanting to be kissed again in a sweet way, wanting his body pressed above your...

Wanting to make love to him.

Seven hells. No, it couldn't be.

The realization of the fact clouded your mind.

You felt nothing but the burning between your thighs, not even the repetitive call of your name by the prince. You wanted it, you wanted it, you wanted it.

You shouldn't, you shouldn't, you shouldn't.

In all these years you have performed your duty to the kingdom without any ambitions. Now, you believe you deserve enjoying a great pleasure and a great sin.

That's when the hand on your shoulder along with a call brought you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" The prince asked behind you.

There was nowhere to escape. And honestly, you didn't want to.

Taking him by surprise, you held both sides of his face and leaned over to capture his lips in a sweeping and demanding kiss, contrasting with the softness of the night before. Jace immediately corresponded, tying your waist and bringing your body closer to his. There was no fear in the way your lips moved or with the lack of distance between your bodies, on the contrary, you deepened the kiss and wrapped a hand behind his neck, breaking any space between you.

He reciprocated the vigor with the same intensity, savoring your lips as if they were the only thing that lacked him in life, almost pulling the air out of your lungs. You felt surrounded by the dragon fire and silently prayed to the Mother for your body to burn.

“I dreamed with you all night,” he whispered close to your lips, holding you close.

“Me too,” you slitted the apple from his cheek with your thumb. His lips were red, swollen, shiny and so tempting...

When you were about to lean again, knocks echoed from the door and made you jump back immediately, resuming your attention to the bed while the prince went to the breakfast table.

It was the Queen herself, talking to the prince of Dragonstone at the same time that you made a greeting to her.

“I wish to speak alone with prince Jacaerys.”

No other command was needed. With one last greeting, you left Jacaerys' chambers with a racing heart and trembling steps, as if walking on embers. The consequences of your actions would be disastrous if discovered, you were not foolish, but you couldn't help but want more. And can't you help but think about how that happened?

When did such a feeling arise and develop?

It was the questioning that guided your rest of the morning, the whole afternoon and the beginning of the evening. The duties kept him away from you, fueling concerns about a possible worsening for the queen's cause. Because of that, you decided to occupy yourself in the only way you knew: working.

You swept, cleaned, aired and washed until you were tired and coughing because of the dust.

At the end of the additional service, you went to the rooms shared with the other girls to clean yourself and be presentable to him, hoping to be able to see him during dinner.

It was insane, you knew that, but you couldn't help it. You wanted it, despite what it would imply.

And when thinking about what to enjoy with the prince would result, you realized something too serious to be ignored. What if you generated a bastard? Oh gods. Where were you with your head? How did you consider losing your maidenhead with a prince of the kingdom? It would be a scandal! You would be ruined! The queen would send you away, maybe to Essos at worst.

Nothing was effective to keep those thoughts away from your head, especially when you held his dinner with trembling hands. Everything got worse when he offered you a wide smile when entering his rooms, making you freeze briefly before walking to the table and greeting you with a reverence.

“Good evening, my prince,” you forced yourself to say.

“Good evening, my lady,” he replied humorously. "I missed you."

No, no, no.

You smiled insecure and looked down, unable to answer back.

“What's wrong?” He asked when he went to your meeting.

What should you say?

“I can't do that,” you chose to be brutally honest. "I can't get pregnant, I can't have a-" you couldn't say such a word, not in front of him, and you prayed that he wouldn't feel offended.

Unfortunately, his jaw closed and the posture hardened. Heavens.

"... a bastard?" He asked in a strangled voice. "I would never impute such a burden to you."

Your heart squeezed while remaining silent, too nervous to say anything. He seemed angry, creating a fear in your mind about the dragon's fury.

“And I would never dishonor you,” he added, holding your hands as his brown eyes warmed up. But that was Jacaerys, your prince and your friend who would never hurt you.

“I know,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with his, being able to breathe relieved at last.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine," you assured him with a soft smile.

"Eat with me, I don't have a big appetite."

You knew how to identify an order when you heard it. Of all the sins done and thought of in the last hours, sharing the meal with a prince was not so excruciating.

Sitting in front of him, you took a piece of bread and soaked it in the mushroom broth, watching him drink a generous sip of mead. None of you said anything for a while, leaving the noise of the violent sea wind that crashed against the walls of the castle being the only sound so far.

"What are we going to do?" He just asked.

"I don't know," you replied sincerely. "I think we should go back our dynamics, we can't be more than we are," your voice was lower than usual.

“I like being with you,” he said.

“Me too, Jace, but there's no hope for us,” you held his hand. "This will only break our hearts."

Although painful, that was the only truth that existed. He would never be yours. He would never abandon his duty to the kingdom for you, the opposite was just daydreams and songs invented to make ordinary life less gray. You were and would continue to be a servant and Jacaerys Velaryon would be just a sweet memory of something that could never happen.

Because that was just the order of things.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @hxtd @fkanitta @ladyofvelaryon @llynx7 @briarrainsstuff @jhepolie @dani-says-stuff @vavafaure1994 @fallenangel161 @naive-daydreamer @uhnanix @yrcbhu5wdv

a note: I know it take a while, but I really put all my efforts in here!

[casscainmainly]

Gender/Sexuality in Batgirl (2000): Part 2

@dailycass-cain asked some great questions on my other post, which I'm gonna answer here to the best of my ability. Also if you're reading this, I love your blog, your reading list is how I got into Cass in the first place!!!

This post covers issue #50 onwards (end of Horrocks into Gabrych's run).

World's Okayest Father

I'll start with Cass' warped thoughts on Bruce, which occurs in issue #50. Cass has just gotten fired, but chooses to go out anyway and Bruce confronts her. The issue opens with a flashback:

Cass and David Cain spar, Cain slaps her, she kisses him, and they continue to fight. Here, the kiss represents intimacy, something which Cain (judging by his disgusted facial expression) dislikes and represses. Cass, however, clearly wants intimacy with her father - this isn't romantic, rather a desire (as I said in my other post) to be wanted/needed/loved.

Back in present day, Cass and Bruce start fighting and this happens:

In the context of the opening flashback, her attempt to kiss him is a broader desire for intimacy, rather than a romantic desire. Importantly, both here and above the intimacy is mingled with violence - Cass struggles to distinguish between the intimacy of a fight and the intimacy of a familial relationship.

Just including this here because I love these two so much and this is the SECOND time she beats him up. As I mentioned before, Dick seems to represent patriarchy to Cass, so her beating him up here is another repudiation of typical feminine roles. This is exemplified by her costume: not her usual more androgynous full-face mask, but not Barbara's Batgirl either. She's beginning to sort out how she feels about her gender without conforming to feminine standards.

Then these iconic scenes. Here, she explicitly distinguishes between positive intimacy ("he never let me touch him... hold him...") and negative intimacy ("just fighting... and hurting..."). This is a major development from both the flashback and her attempt to kiss Bruce earlier. Just as Conner was essential to Cass separating romance from friendship, Bruce is essential to Cass understanding the difference between romance and familial love, between violence and tenderness. So while Cass' attempts to kiss Bruce is a little weird, it makes sense in the context of Cass figuring out the intricacies of relationships.

Bruce asks her where her loyalty lies: him, David Cain, or Barbara. Remembering the Soul panel (where Cass hallucinated Bruce telling her to stop being sexual and Babs telling her to go out and date boys), Bruce and David Cain represent sexual/gendered repression, while Barbara represents traditional femininity. By passing over them in favour of the gender-neutral Bat symbol, Cass is sort of asserting her new understanding of her gender, one that rebels against Bruce's disapproval and Babs' conventionality.

The Poison Ivy Parable

So I did just skip the Poison Ivy arc in my last post, but dailycass-cain is completely right in that it's integral to Cass' understanding of gender and sexuality.

Cass is a lot more assertive with her gender in this arc. She puts on a dress, quotes gendered reality TV ("you bet your cutie patootie, baby!") and says the above when a man expresses interest in her. Unlike her initial feelings about Conner's advances, she's more comfortable with being perceived as a woman, and doesn't let Bruce scold her. She's messing with him here - her sexuality isn't under his control anymore.

Poison Ivy makes a garden that lowers inhibitions, and Cass nearly kisses this guy named Chris (the designer of the garden). However, Cass snaps out of it to go to "work," defeating Poison Ivy.

Cass' choice to "work" instead of kissing Chris could be read as a repression of her sexuality once again, but I think it's different. Cass doesn't get told to stop kissing him; she makes the choice herself. Bruce alludes to this by saying "looks like you've got things under control" (emphasis added). Cass' sexuality and gender have been controlled for so long, whether by David Cain, Bruce, Babs, drugs like Soul, or gardens like Poison Ivy's. By breaking free of the garden's effects, Cass asserts control over her body.

The Stephanie Brown Story

As mentioned in Part 1, Stephanie essentially kickstarted Cass' desire to understand her gender/sexuality. However, she 'dies' in War Games, leaving Cass devastated. There's a noticeable difference in how assertive she was in her gender in the Poison Ivy arc, and her attitude at the beginning of Gabrych's run:

She questions whether she is "the fairy godmother" or "Prince Charming," a feminine or a masculine role. Following from Horrocks' run, she's aware there's options beyond these prescriptive roles ("is this a.... whole new story?"). But unlike Cass' certainty in the Poison Ivy arc, she frames these thoughts now in questions. Stephanie's death seems to have shaken some core part of herself.

This section is very reminiscent of Cass' conversation with Stephanie that started the whole journey, except here Cass is comparing herself to Tim. Interestingly, where in the original conversation Cass says she's never had a "kiss," not specifying the gender of who she'd kiss, here Cass sticks to heterosexuality: "I've never even had a... boyfriend". There's a sense of regression, of having to start her journey all over again:

In many ways Cass' grief over Stephanie's death forces her to re-evaluate her thoughts on love, gender, and agency.

Eventually, Cass nearly drowns and hallucinates Stephanie in the water. This is the antithesis of the Soul hallucinations: where the imagined people there (which interestingly did not include Spoiler) harassed her with patriarchal demands, Stephanie is encouraging and kind. She tells Cass to do "what you taught me to do;" Cass taught Stephanie to fight, but Stephanie taught Cass the value of female relationships, to fight for a life worth living.

Right after this scene, Cass goes to Brenda's café, begins looking for her mother, and reaches out to the female police officer. Stephanie kickstarts another round of self-development for Cass, this time in the direction of forging female relationships for herself.

Connection

Throughout the rest of Gabrych's run, Cass forms connections with Brenda, Onyx, and Zero, as dailycass-cain mentions. Brenda seems to be a surrogate Stephanie and Barbara - she's sort of a parental figure, feeding Cass and giving advice, but she's also a friend, inviting Cass to parties. We get this iconic outfit:

It's somewhat gendered (with the skirt and the shirt), but it's distinctive and different from the normal dress she wore at the end of Horrocks' run. She's learning to express herself more, and because Brenda is less parental than Babs, she doesn't have the same need to make Cass 'normal'.

Zero is honestly a bit weird, in this analysis as well as in the story itself. I think it's part of Cass finding connections with civilians in Blud, and I actually don't think it's similar to Conner. With Conner, it was very rushed; with Zero, there's clear build-up, and Cass genuinely seems to enjoy herself.

Cass and Zero kiss, and Cass thinks "my skin feels... alive. Where his arms were. His lips." Was it love? Probably not, but it was a cute moment for Cass, and I think she enjoyed the excitement/novelty more than anything (in that case it is similar to Kon).

This leads into Cass' thoughts about her conception, and whether David Cain and Shiva were in love. There's a neat flip here - where in Horrocks' run Cass was puzzled about her own feelings, here she's questioning other people's. She's definitely grown in her capacity to understand herself and her gender:

She now has the language to identity herself ("a girl") and the way it makes her feel ("awful"). In contrast to her initial confrontation with the male gaze (Conner), she's more secure, beating people up and leaving the bar (sharp contrast to being stuck on that vacation boat).

There's other stuff besides this, like the brief encounter with Rose, the make-up with Babs, Onyx, Shiva etc. but I'll end it here. Again, there's a lot more to be explored but honestly Gabrych had more stuff than I initially though.

Hope this answered at least part of your questions dailycass-cain, and thank you for ALL you've done for the Cass Cain community!!

[thepixelelf]

ah! love - 3

genres: married life au, family au, fluff, a little... angst? but we know it ends up okay (best friends to lovers) relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 2.0k warnings: none notes: joshua centric!! also they live somewhere where it gets cold sometimes. I know that Joshua's had a little less time in the a!l spotlight, so I hope this satisfies the shushus[?] out there! this is the first >1k bday fic I've written in a while idk what came over me lol

ah! love masterlist

Joshua saves the day...wait, the night?

Joshua loves his kids. More than anything, though that thought sometimes scares him if he thinks too hard about it. The point is, he loves his sticky little mischievous imps, no matter how many times they throw up in the middle of the night, or run around with food half-chewed in their mouths because they've yet to develop a fear of choking like he and the rest of his partners have, or the half a million other things they don't warn you about parenthood. He loves his sons, end of sentence. Period.

But that's not to say they were his idea. Like a lot of the current life he feels overwhelmingly lucky to live, none of this was his idea. He hadn't even dreamed of it -- even his sleeping consciousness couldn't have been so creative as to spin the love story that led to his present. He hadn't fathomed marrying you and his other two best friends.

The marriage was Seungcheol's idea. But apparently you and Jeonghan were already thinking about it, too.

Joshua had been entirely caught off guard.

He was thinking too rigidly, he realized. Their marriage isn't legally recognized in any sense, and it was for that reason that he'd never even considered it in the first place... but it's still his marriage, whether penned and signed or not. There are three rings on his finger to prove it.

The kids were Jeonghan's idea. Well. The kid was sort of his, Seungcheol's and your idea. Jeonghan had said he'd always dreamed of having two kids -- a boy and a girl, like him and his little sister. You'd had your own fears about children, as did Seungcheol. You were scared you wouldn't know how to parent, wouldn't be able to raise a child in the way they deserved. Seungcheol worried how a child raised in their unconventional family would be treated by their peers. They'd all chosen the life they would live together, society's judging eyes be damned, but the child wouldn't have a choice, least of all an informed one.

Over the breakfast that was long forgotten after Jeonghan made his casual suggestion and vulnerable confession, you and Seungcheol eventually needled him down to one kid. Maybe.

As for Joshua, he didn't say a word. He was too lost in his own head, imagining a swaddled baby in your arms, and you in his. A shimmering mirage of his lips pressed upon your forehead, before he bent slightly to kiss the baby's tiny hands.

One kid may have been Jeonghan's, Seungcheol's, and your idea, but with Joshua, and circumstances as they were, you came home with three.

So perhaps some of this was his idea.

Not this, though.

"Papa...?"

Joshua blinks himself awake. His room is mostly dark, but warm light filters in from the hallway. The culprit? A little boy with one hand on the doorknob and the other wiping the corner of his bleary eye. Joshua can't tell who it is by looks alone, since the boy is all but a silhouette in the doorway, but he knows from the sound of his voice that it's Vernon.

Slowly, he removes his arm from around your waist. It's unlucky, maybe, that tonight you chose to sleep in Joshua's room, and then Vernon decided this was the place to be, too. He scoots away from you, then tries to lightly step across the room to kneel in front of Vernon. "Hey, bud," he whispers, trying desperately not to wake you up after a long day. "Can't sleep?"

"Bad dream," Vernon mutters.

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Bad dream?" Joshua sat up from the couch he was sleeping on just a minute ago, and he watched you whip around like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

But you only had a glass of water in your hand, and you winced as you turned off the tap. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."

"You didn't." Not really, anyway. The couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to sleep on in the first place, which was why he offered you his room to sleep in while you needed a place to stay for the night. Actually, both Jeonghan and Seungcheol had offered their beds too, and it became a bit of a squabble, but you'd settled things by just picking the room offered to you first.

"Liar," you said, and even though the only light in the room came from the moon through the balcony windows, he could hear the smile the word came through. Still, there was a certain tiredness in your voice.

"Seriously. What's wrong?"

A sigh left you.

"Come, sit," he insisted. "Talk to me. You know I'll annoy it out of you eventually."

Another sigh came from you, but this one of reluctant, amused acceptance. You walked across the combined kitchen slash living space in in their three-room apartment, set your water on the coffee table, and sat on the other end of the couch from him. Too far for his liking.

"What's your mood like tonight?" you asked him as you relaxed into the cushions, your head resting so that you stared at the ceiling.

"On what scale?"

"Hm... holiday rom coms?"

He thought hard for a second. "The Princess Switch 2: Switched Again."

You snorted, rubbing your hands over your face. "Not good then?"

"Well, you did have to abandon your apartment because the heat turned off and your dumb landlord is completely MIA." He shifted his body to face you, one arm propped up on the back of the couch to lean his head on. "But you showed up here wearing a comedic amount of layers, so the day had its funny moments."

A laugh bubbled from your throat, and Joshua found himself smiling in the dark. "I guess you're right. How's your mood in terms of..." You let your head flop to the side to look at him. "...a hug?"

He had to wonder sometimes if you had absolutely no idea what he would do for you if you asked. A hug wouldn't be on that list-- it was so easy that it didn't even constitute consideration.

But his heart warmed, because even though he knew he'd never refuse to give you something so simple as a hug, you knew he wasn't constantly the physical affection kind of guy. You wanted to ask him. You wanted his comfort, but only if he was willing.

God, was he willing.

"All yours." He opened up his arms, and you all but sank into him.

You both stayed like that for a while, silent, but warm. He was satisfied with you in his arms, but he could tell your mind was still stewing.

"You gonna tell me what's got you up so late?" he muttered, rubbing his thumbs back and forth on your sides.

"Do you ever think about the future, Joshua?"

Sometimes. But it was always with you in it. "Not really."

Leaning back, he brought you to lie almost on top of him, so now he was the one staring at the ceiling.

You sighed. "I try not to... at least not too much. But sometimes, on nights like these, I'm scared that I..."

He waited for you to continue, but when you didn't, he gently patted your back. "That you what?"

"That I want too much."

Joshua breathed in. Held that air for a few more seconds than necessary. Breathed out. He wondered if it would always be like this-- you being brave enough to speak aloud the fears he kept locked up.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, because what else could he say?

Me too?

No. He couldn't know if you meant it in the same way he felt, and it would be selfish to let his words and feelings out now, while his two other best friends were asleep mere meters away.

You chuckled, as if to dispel any vulnerability you'd revealed. "Easy for you to say."

You had no idea.

"I'll protect you."

"Ah, right. Did you read my mind? We'll have to sleep out here tonight."

Not yet catching up to your joke, Joshua loosened his arms around you and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

You lifted your head, a cheeky, bitable smile on your lips. Your voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush. "There's a monster under your bed."

⭒-⭒-⭒

Joshua ends up in the kitchen downstairs, all three boys sitting on the counter since Papa Seungcheol isn't there to discourage it. He tried to help Vernon right back into bed, he swears, but as soon as Seungkwan roused from his sleep and asked Vernon what was wrong, a conspiracy of monsters under each of their beds spiralled out of control. Even Chan got dragged in, heavy sleeper that he is.

Now, Joshua's showing them his ultra-secret monster repellent recipe. He melts an ice cube on a warm pan like a slab of butter, then pours warm water over it. Hiding more ice in his hands, he pretends to pull it from the pantry and adds that to the "mixture" too.

The boys watch, entranced and more than a little tired, as Joshua carefully pours the pan's contents into a measuring cup filled with yet more ice. He then pours that into a spray bottle they use to water the plants and screws the lid on. "There," he says proudly, presenting the bottle in front of the boys like it's a fine wine.

"What's going on down here?" your soft voice comes from the bottom of the stairway.

Joshua winces. "I was hoping I wouldn't wake you."

"It's alright," you say, though he can tell you're still fatigued. You walk over to the kitchen and pet the first boy's head that you reach, Chan's. "What are you all doing up?"

While Vernon makes grabby hands for you to run your fingers through his hair as well, Seungkwan answers. "Papa Shua's making monster-go-away juice."

"Monster-go-away juice?" you echo, then turn to Joshua with feigned shock and a quiet gasp. "Not your secret recipe?"

Joshua smiles. You're always so quick to match his humour. "I know." He throws the boys a look before meeting your eyes with full, teasing seriousness. "But I think they're ready."

Your eyes glimmer with laughter, but you hold yourself back for the sake of the bit. Turning to your sons, you wag your finger. "This is powerful stuff, boys. You have to use it carefully."

Chan's eyes are wide, sparkling with awe as he takes in your every word. Seungkwan and Vernon are equally rapt. Joshua's going to have to explain all this to the more straightforward husbands tomorrow, but tonight? Seeing the adorable looks on his sons faces and the playful tilt of yours is totally worth it.

"But don't worry," he chimes in. "It only works on monsters. It's harmless to humans. See?"

In a flash, he points the bottle at you and pulls the trigger, spraying a thin mist of water-water right in your face. You flinch in surprise, affronted, but only Joshua can tell. You laugh, then look at the boys again. "See? Nothing." You snatch the spray bottle from him. "It doesn't do anything to papa Joshua, either."

Okay, he thinks as you spray him not once, but three times, he deserves that.

"Now, papa Joshua and I are going to take care of any monsters, and then we're all gonna go to sleep, okay?"

The boys nod, and Vernon yawns, then motions for you to pick him up. You send a look Joshua's way, and he sends one right back. He gathers both Seungkwan and Chan in his arms, but before you start the trek up the stairs, he stops you. Each of the sons in his arms get a kiss to the top of their head, and then he leans over and presses one to your temple. Lastly, he bends down and, while Vernon has raised his arm to once again rub his eyes, Joshua kisses his tiny little hand. Just like he imagined over breakfast not so long ago.

No, waking up in the middle of the night to save his sons from imaginary monsters was never his idea. Neither was this life, or this family.

But Joshua wouldn't have it any other way.