#and when their eldest grows up. so can she

[chidorinnnnn]

i've been on a bit of a bnha fic reading bender as of late, and it never ceases to amaze me how in a battle shounen series that routinely pisses me off for various reasons, the todoroki family's story arc is among one of my favorite bits of writing in anything ever.

and what it comes down to for me is: this is a Traditional Asian Family taken to its logical extreme.

you have a patriarch who was forced to grow up too soon and has been providing for his family since well before he had children of his own, after the loss of his father in his youth. (both of my grandfathers had this exact backstory.) you have a mother who agreed to an arranged marriage that she believed would suit her best, and refuses to consider herself a victim when it didn't turn out as planned because, in her mind, she chose this for herself. (i've had this conversation with my mother and aunts too many times to count, when recalling the bullshit they had to put up with from their spouses and in-laws at too young an age.)

they get together, stick to their gendered roles in the household, agree to have at least two children. and for a time, this is enough.

-but then the eldest son starts to undergo health challenges. and the patriarch has to contend with the fact that the kind of life he wants his son to lead is incompatible with his physical limitations. and none of the scripts or norms or training the mother has been privy to growing up could have prepared her for this, as she finds she can do nothing to alleviate the stress of her son's crushed dreams or her husband's ruined vision of a certain ideal family (not that they're at all on the same level, but both need to be addressed regardless).

their solution to this, against all reason, is to have more children. the younger two grow up in a very different household than the older two, with an entirely different perspective on their parents. where the eldest son yearns for his father's affection and resents his mother for her inaction and passivity, the youngest son has only ever seen his mother be mistreated by his father, and clings to her as the sole source of stability in his life. where the daughter yearns to return to the happy family of her childhood, this time with all of her siblings present, the middle brother can't fathom a reality where that happy family can coexist with his father's violence and distance.

and then the eldest son dies (presumably). and then the patriarch's violence escalates. and then the mother suffers a mental breakdown, nearly taking the youngest son down with her. the daughter, not so different from her father, takes on the role of the caretaker, putting her own feelings and ambitions aside to look after her younger brothers in her mother's absence. the middle son actively makes plans to leave. the youngest son, who faces the brunt of the patriarch's violence and has to endure it without the tempering presence of his mother, can see very little beyond the scope of his own abuse. the eldest son, alone and discarded, plots his revenge.

(and to be clear: while all of this happens behind closed doors, the children don't go to great lengths to keep it a secret. it's a running joke that this family is filled with chronic over-sharers, but it does nothing for them except serve as a sort of pressure release. nobody thinks to look closer. nobody comes to save them.)

-but bit by bit, as the children get older, things get better. the patriarch mellows, and actively works to mend his relationships with his wife and children. with medical attention, the mother heals. the daughter finds joy and fulfillment in her family coming closer together. the middle son leaves, but remains involved in the capacity which works best for him. the youngest son, no longer subjected to his father's violence or separated from his mother, starts to redefine what his relationship with his family should look like, and is granted the space to pursue that at his own pace. there's no singular, dramatic, cathartic resolution - just the gradual softening of their conflicts over time.

and then the eldest son returns to blow everything up, insisting that maybe there should be more than this. and for all of their problems, it's on the eldest son's behalf that the family finally, finally rallies together.

[nixie-deangel]

Because I'm s sucker for kid fics and really interested in the Jake's family idea.🍼🍼🍼 🍷🍷🍷. Great work!

🍼 non navy bradley/fighter pilot jake as parents - hangster

“Are you being good for daddy, sweetheart?” Jake can’t help but stare in wonder at seeing his little girl so big. All of five years old and Jake feels like he’s missed everything. “How’re you likin’ school? Makin’ friends?” He grins playfully at Bradley, who lets out a snort of laughter. “Good!” Emmy chippers happily, grinning big, showing off the gap in her teeth. “Daddy said I had to be good and go to school, otherwise the Navy would keep you way longer! So I’m being extra, extra sweet and good, papa!” She flashes Jake her brightest grin, before frowning slightly. “Don’t like school though. Mrs. Amy always ends reading time too soon.”

🍷 Jake's family causes the hangster break up

“You don’t really think he’d be happy, having to actually settle for you, do you, Bradley?” Bradley flinches back startled at suddenly hearing Jake’s sister just behind him. Spinning on his heel, he stares wide eyed at the younger woman. “Wh-what?” He watches as she scoffs, rolling her eyes before moving around him to get at the fridge without having to come close. “Jake. You don’t think he’ll actually settle for you. You’re just a stop of fun for my brother.” Flinching again at the snide tone, Bradley huddles into himself and mutters out a soft ‘excuse me’ before making a beeline back to Jake’s bedroom.

Make Nixie Write This Weekend!

[fazcinatingblog]

I'm assuming this is about the strong rumours that Alex Fasolo is his dad

[eowynstwin]

anatidae - conception, i.

After several happy years together, Ghost and Soap finally convince you to have their child. - ghoap x reader. audhd reader. reader has a nickname. established relationship. polyamory. baby fever. manipulative Soap. smut. breeding kink. anal sex. top Soap. bottom Ghost. sex as manipulation. - Masterlist. Ao3

Eventually, they convince you.

It is impossible to tell who your daughter’s father is for two reasons:

One, when she opens her tiny eyes, one is blue, and one is brown. Complete heterochromia, unlikely to change.

And two—with every passing day, she looks more and more like you.

Four years old; roly-poly with baby fat, little legs and arms she doesn’t quite know what to do with yet. She fills the spaces in your plural household that you did not know were empty until she found them, with her curiosity, her laughter, her boundless appetite for each minute of every day.

She’s smart. Very smart, quick not only to learn but to apply her lessons to new contexts. She sleeps through the night almost every night since the three of you brought her home, turns her nose up at nothing you offer her to eat, never wanders far from you or her fathers at the park or the store.

She’s perfect—even though she has not yet uttered a single word.

Your baby. Your Lizzie.

And actually, it’s Soap’s idea.

His eldest sister’s middle child is turning six, so the three of you pile into his car on a warm Saturday morning to make the drive to the suburbs. The MacTavish-Donnelly household overflows with children in party hats and benevolently bored parents when Ghost pulls the old Jeep up to the curb, boxing some unfortunate van in the driveway, and your trepidation is visible the moment your shoes hit the pavement.

Being your partner has uncovered a new layer of perception for Soap and Ghost; they see and hear things they previously would have ignored, because with the way you move through the world you can ignore nothing.

You described it once having a live wire for every nerve ending; everything, everywhere, screams at you all the time.

So when you pause on the sidewalk when you see a trike in the front yard, and a few adults holding punch cups on the stoop chatting, Soap knows why he hears the wrapping paper around the present in your hands crinkle, your grip tightening.

He throws an arm around your shoulder and brings his lips to your ear. “You got your wee earplugs, aye, Ducky?”

“Yes,” you whisper nervously.

You sway into him at his touch—it’s grounding, you’ve explained. It keeps you from floating away, expanding outward to try to figure out everything happening around you. Nothing beyond the sphere he and Ghost make matters so much.

He kisses the soft spot of your jaw. Ghost comes up to your other side and pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm. “We can set the place on fire, if need be.”

“Don’t burn my sister’s house down, please, LT.”

“Sink fire. Set off the alarms, that’s all.”

You give a little sniff of laughter, and, thus fortified, the three of you advance.

There’s Twister in the living room next to a table piled high with a rainbow of gifts, children tumbling around each other on the mat and laughing while music plays on the telly. Pastel streamers and balloons festoon everything (the middle child being celebrated should grow up without any proverbial complexes, Soap thinks), and confetti is abundant on the carpeted floor like a piñata molted on its way through.

There are the usual stares as they walk through the house. Soap is used to it—likes to flaunt it even, sometimes—and Ghost has never given a shit what anyone thinks. But you seem to shrink even further between them as you feel watched, curious eyes wondering if the mousy little thing between them really arrived with two men.

Luckily, they find Mary in the kitchen, and even despite how obviously harried she is, wisps of hair flying around a lopsided ponytail, Soap’s sister brightens when she sees them.

“Johnny!” she exclaims, swooping him into a hug he’ll never get too big to fall into. “And Simon and Duck! Thank goodness, we’re about to cut the cake and we might need crowd control.”

“Mary,” grunts Ghost.

“Hello Mary,” you say.

Mary releases Soap and smiles very kindly at you. Out of all his siblings, she’s been the most fond of you from the start—probably, he thinks, because she sees something to nurture in you.

At that moment, two of Mary’s children and three of Soap’s nieces and nephews, including the birthday boy, rush in to glom around Soap’s legs, and after the choruses of “Uncle Johnny!” collide with him, they backwash toward Ghost, who always has candy in the many pockets of his utility pants for them to scavenge.

Soap’s family has accommodated you well, though—they flow around you like water, barely touching, and you take the opportunity to give Mary your own hug.

“We’re doing crafts in the backyard, Duck, I thought you might like that,” his sister says, patting your back.

You pull away and give her a smile. It’s one of Soap’s favorites; small and mysterious, and completely genuine. The one that means you’re very pleased, and you don’t feel pressured to show it.

“Yes,” you say, and you vanish outside to sit with the quiet ones.

Ghost allows himself to be dragged off by the rowdier kids, leaving Soap to lean against the kitchen counter and smile at his sister; when when she lifts a cup to sip at some punch, he taps her belly with two fingers.

He’d felt it when she hugged him. A little firmness, hidden by the weight she’s never managed to lose after three pregnancies, and the loose shirt she’s likely wearing to hide the growing bump.

“Number four,” he murmurs.

Jealousy, a thin, sharp garrote, tightens in a spool around his stomach, but it’s an old feeling—one he’s learned how to ignore, until it stops aching.

(Compromise—sacrifice. It’s how a relationship between three people sustains itself. Everyone in his plurality has given something up, or learned to live with something else, or adopted new practices they might otherwise have never picked up. It’s a solid, even foundation, and the last thing Soap wants to do is take a hammer to it.)

His sister’s face softens with warmth. The glow of it suffuses the stiff lines of her posture, gentling the anxiety that has fizzed in the way she stands.

“Our last one,” she says quietly. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Planned?”

“No. God! Could you imagine? Mum and Dad are crazy enough.”

Soap smiles. “We turned out alright.”

Mary runs her hand over her stomach, quick but loving. “Yeah, we did. Remember me though? Swore I’d never become her, and look at me now.”

A house full of toys shoved into every corner; sippy cups in a wire drain basket by the sink. The long hem of her tunic shirt creased by tugging hands. The jamb of one door anointed with three different colors of sharpie, hatch marks measuring years of rapid growth.

Light, and warmth, and color.

“You’re happy, though,” he says.

“I am.” She aims a little grin into her cup—an expression he’s seen her make more often with every consecutive pregnancy.

A secretive curve of her lips. Tranquil, with the familiarity of some hidden insight, as if Mary can see facets of happiness that—to Johnny—remain a mystery.

“I always thought this would be you, you know,” she says. “If you married a girl, I mean. Then you and Simon got together, and I figured not, but…”

Soap settles his crossed arms lightly on his chest, sucking one cheek between his teeth. He sets his gaze on the rainbow of letter magnets on her fridge, spelling out the names of her children. “You know her. It wouldnae—wouldnae be a good idea.”

Mary nods. “And she doesn’t want any?”

“No. Neither of ‘em do.”

He feels his sister’s eyes on him. Probing, in only the way a mother of three’s can be—though even before having children, she’s always been able to see through him in a way no one else ever has.

“I dunno abou’ that,” she says eventually.

When he looks up at her, her gaze is angled elsewhere—toward the sliding glass of the back door, where a table piled high with cheap craft paints and canvas board and grubby jars of water are attended by the clan introverts. You’re the only adult sitting with them, happy not to be bothered—

But a little one comes shyly up to you, a messy painting clutched between two paint-smeared hands.

It’s Mary’s youngest, Angus—and her shyest. He comes to stand beside you with his shoulders hunched, eyes big and trepidatious as he waits for you to catch sight of him.

Soap watches you greet the lad when you notice him. The expression on your face doesn’t change; you always speak to the children the same way you speak to adults, no exaggeration, no upward pitch. Angus stretches his arms out to present his creation.

You look at the canvas when it’s offered to you, and then in a smooth motion you slide out of your chair to crouch down to the boy’s level. As Soap watches, you cross you legs and invite him to sit in your lap, and then, with as serious an expression as you might have at a gallery showing, you begin pointing at different places on the painting. One arm is wrapped loosely around little Angus’ belly, holding the child to you like a stuffed toy.

One side of the canvas is in Angus’ hand; the other is in yours.

He can’t hear what you’re saying, as he watches your mouth move, but Angus positively glows with the obvious praise you’re giving him. When he turns to look up at you, you give him your mysterious little smile—

Something hot blooms in Soap’s chest.

Then there’s a shriek of laughter in the living room, and when Soap turns to look, he sees Ghost on the Twister mat, huge body set in an arch, feet on green, hands on red.

He’s going to bitch later about his back or his knees, Soap can already hear it ringing in his ears—but right now Ghost holds position as kids crawl underneath him or do their best to clamber over him like climbing a mountain. Then, suddenly, Ghost collapses with one of their nephews worming over his belly, throwing his arms around the kid and hauling him over his shoulder.

“Bloody mountain goats, I look like a jungle gym to you?” he barks, baring his teeth in a mock-snarl. Though at home he’ll have it on as often as not, he never wears his mask around the children.

Ghost surges up to spin the boy around, and the other kids crow with laughter and demands for a turn of their own.

“Watch the lamps!” Mary cries out, undercutting her warning with a laugh. “You’re as bad as the wee ones, Simon!”

The heat in his chest billows. St. Elmo’s fire catches in his alveoli, flash-burns the lining of his lungs inward to cloak his heart in a white blaze. Heat sears his neck upward to flood across his face.

He thinks of you, belly round, breasts heavy. Ghost with a baby in his arms, a tiny thing made tinier by the bulk of his huge frame. A toddler clinging to your leg, face tipped up to look at you with adoring eyes, or napping at midday, thumb in mouth, on Soap’s chest.

It takes his breath away. The kitchen sways around him, the earth’s center of gravity shifting. A fissure crack the casket of his want.

Mary catches his eye with a knowing grin.

He starts with Ghost.

You’re going to be the harder sell. Early in the relationship, the three of you had sat down to discuss this, and you had been unequivocal—no kids. You did not want children, and you did not want to be pregnant.

It was a sensory nightmare, you’d explained. The thought of sticky hands reaching out constantly to touch you, and shrill, high voices shouting and screaming, with no knob to turn down the volume, made you shudder with fear. Piles of toys to trip over, when your balance is medium on a good day, and no moment to sit down in silence without the risk of it being interrupted by some little goblin’s insatiable demands.

Put that way, Soap could see your point. He remembers his parents’ most exhausted days, dealing with no less than five children in the house and seven for birthdays and holidays. That kind of exhaustion would weigh on anyone, but for you, it would be a different beast entirely.

And Ghost was in accord—both for your sake, and his own. By then, he had told you and Soap about the Sonoran desert, Sparks and Washington, burning down his own house with four bodies still warm inside it—one smaller than the pool of blood it lay in.

He did not want to bring something into the world so easily taken out of it.

Soap could see that too. Certain moments in the field live permanently now in the folds of his brain, bloody and ugly and grisly in the way most people only encounter through fiction. Too real to him now not to look at his nieces and nephews sometimes with dread tearing up his gut.

Soap was outvoted. Moreover, he was convinced. So he kept his desires to himself.

But that evening after the party, he can’t stop thinking about it. A little bundle with his eyes, and your mouth, and Simon’s nose. Little hands curling around his fingers. A high chair at their dinner table, right next to his place. Bedtime stories. Halloween costumes. Friday night movies, like his Dad used to set up for him and his brother and sisters, popcorn fights during action scenes and falling asleep in piles on the floor.

Soap has always wanted children. Always. He thought he could give that up, being with you and Ghost—what’s between the three of you is rare, precious, more than worth having even by itself. He loves the life he has with his little family, and he wouldn’t change it.

But expansion isn’t exactly change, is it?

The more he thinks about it, the more right it feels. The more he can already feel the weight of his child in his arms. And he knows it would make the two of you happy, even despite the trepidation you and Ghost share. Neither he nor you grew up in happy homes overflowing with love—it’s natural that neither of you can see the potential of it.

But Soap did. Soap can.

He doesn’t mind being the visionary. He’s more than willing to lead the charge. He can do the work of opening his partners’ eyes—

And he’s not above fighting dirty to do it.

It starts with getting Ghost on his back. You’re out one night teaching an evening class (bento dinner in hand, an extra square of chocolate Soap snuck in at the last moment), so the next few hours are just for them, and Soap takes possession of every minute.

It’s always a sight. Ghost is the biggest man Soap has ever been with—and to have that huge body below him, fatty muscle red and quivering, hips rolling with a needy cant as Soap slowly drags his cock in and out of him, is something that never fails to take his breath away.

He massages his hands up and down Ghost’s chest, cupping his heavy pecs and thumbing his nipples as the big man’s eyes sink closed and his bitten mouth drops open. Between them, his cock, blustery red and standing straight up, twitches every time Soap pushes in, dripping clear and messy all over his stomach.

Ghost’s hands are vice-tight on Soap’s hips, but he doesn’t urge him to speed up, doesn’t snarl at him to get on with it, like he usually might. No—Soap set the mood just right, backing Ghost into the bedroom with soft kisses up his neck and softer hands wandering up his shirt. It’s honey-sweet and slow as dripping molasses, with Ghost hot and tight around him, their groaning breaths mingling as they hang there together in the moment.

Watching Ghost’s belly jump with pleasure, Soap says—breathlessly, as if letting it slip out—“I wanna get her pregnant, Simon.”

It’s only supposed to test the waters. Take Ghost’s temperature, see where his head’s at. Soap is ready for anything—for Simon to freeze, to glare at him, even to shove him away.

But instead—

“Fffffuck,” Ghost growls, chest expanding, stomach going concave as he heaves a deep breath in.

His brows screw together, upper lip curling, and he draws so tight around Soap that he has the delirious notion that Ghost is going to pull his cock clean off. If Ghost had been blushing before, he’s positively blazing now, red blooming bright across his face and chest and all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Soap knows immediately what’s happening—Ghost is on the razor’s edge of coming.

And all it took were those six little words.

“Yeah?” he presses, blending the long thrusts he’s kept steady until now into a few short, quick ones. “Yeah? You like that idea? Her all big with our baby, Si, something we put in her? Us?”

Ghost pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, throwing his head back. “Fuck—Johnny—” he snarls.

“Did y’see her with the wee ones?” Johnny croons, pressing the heels of his hands into Ghost’s stomach. “She’d be so good with a baby, Ghost, I know it. Our baby.”

Ghost starts panting, hard, grunting like an animal with every exhale. He’s never especially talkative during sex, unless it’s to give instruction or bark an order, but now it seems that language has completely abandoned him, as he tries to get Johnny to fuck him faster with the roll of his hips, trying to thrust his cock into the open air.

As if you’re already there, already taking him, and Ghost is trying to get himself as deep inside you as he can.

Johnny wraps one hand around it, sliding his fist loosely up and down. He can practically feel Ghost’s heartbeat plunging through every raised vein. If Johnny had the flexibility, he’d bend down right now just to get it in his mouth, but as it is he contents himself with getting Ghost’s precum all over his palm and licking it off with his tongue.

“Probably take a few tries,” says Soap, closing his hand back around Ghost’s cock. “Though with two of us, probably not long. Not if we go one right after the other, every time we can, aye?”

He pauses to spit on the red, exposed crown, circled round by thumb and fingers, so he can lube up his grip. Ghost’s dense, heavy thighs shake around his hips, as Soap thrusts his cock as deep as he can and slides his hand down to Ghost’s base. He mimics the squeeze of Ghost’s ass around him—the tightness of your cunt swallowing him up—as he jacks him off, up and down at the same time he pulls in and out.

“Fuck,” Ghost breathes, “Johnny, you—Johnny—”

“Sounds good, doesnae?” Soap says. “Gettin’ her between us, not stoppin’ ‘til somethin’ takes.”

“Fuck!” Ghost shouts, and then he’s gone, balls drawing up, a stream of white jetting out so hard it lands on his chest, right in the valley of his swelling pecs. Soap fucks him through it with his hand, and slams his hips hard against Ghost’s as as he chases his own end—

“Just—like—this,” Soap growls, tether snapping, and he empties himself as deep as he can into Ghost, cock pulsing as ecstasy pours up and down his stomach. He swears he can feel every drop of cum leaving him, and worries wildly that there won’t be enough left for you later, as the intensity of his orgasm seems to empty his balls of every last reserve.

He holds himself still for a moment after, still buried in his partner, nerves alight with an ecstasy so bright and so fervent that it’s sharp enough to cut him to the bone.

He feels very present. Anchored and secure in this place and time. At home, Soap struggles often with the feeling of being tugged in a hundred different directions, all at once, myriad urges to see, do, and act all clamoring at him for attention. It’s something that keeps him alive in the field—that keeps him thriving on deployment, really—but constantly on his toes when he’s home, all safe and sound.

Always searching, it feels like. Always looking for something he needs, and almost never finding it. The feeling quietens when Ghost curls his hand around the back of his neck, or you lean your head in close to his to kiss him or to speak.

Now—it’s silent.

A father. He’s going to be a father.

Panting heavily, Ghost finds his voice—at least, enough of it to start laughing.

“Spoiled brat, you are,” he chuckles in his steel-edged tenor. “You know that? Spoiled.”

Soap grins at him, caressing one thigh. “Your fault.”

“Mm,” Ghost hums, having long known that he’ll give Soap whatever he wants. The hard cut of his mouth is pulled into a wry smile. “She ain’t gonna fold so easy, Johnny.”

Soap pulls out of his partner, and crawls up to lay next to him. “I know. S’what I like abou’ her, after all.”

Ghost hums again. He lifts one arm to wrap around Soap’s shoulders, drawing him close, idly tapping his fingers on his tricep.

“You’re gonna have to get a desk job,” he says.

His tone is thoughtful, but Soap knows the words to be absolute.

Once you’d agreed to be theirs, Ghost had retired. It had surprised Soap and you both, but Ghost treated it as the most natural thing in the world. And it didn’t take very long, after the dust settled, for Soap to see why—you needed care, more than Soap had realized, and for Ghost, that need superseded any of his desire to remain in the field.

And Ghost was good at caring for you. It seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing: remembering what you liked to eat, helping you with your stretches, using the special brushes you had to wake your nerves up every morning. Putting together a schedule and keeping you on it, making sure you got to work on time and bringing you home at the end of every day.

And as you began to flourish in receiving his care, so too did Ghost flourish in giving it.

The hard edges of him softened. The sharp tones of his voice blunted. Soap saw Ghost become a steadier version of himself than he’d ever seen before—and he saw you blossom with a happiness that, at the inception of their odd relationship, had only begun to bud.

“Lookin’ after her is one thing,” continues Ghost. “I’m alright bein’ the hardass, ‘cause you make up for where I’m shit. But a kid’s different, Johnny. You don’t get to come and go as you like with a kid. It’s all, or nothin.’”

And Soap has to be honest with himself—a corner of his stomach clenches. There is a clarity in the smell of oil and gun smoke that he’s failed to find anywhere else.

But it does not dim the sunlight shining in his chest.

He knew it would happen someday, to old age if not a bullet. So to a baby?

Better than he really could have hoped.

He swings one leg over Ghost’s hips, and pushes himself up to straddle his partner. Ghost smirks beneath him, hands rounding the curves of his waist, sliding backward to palm Soap’s ass before traveling further down to squeeze his thighs.

“Gonna be fun, LT,” Soap agrees, grinning. “I hear pregnancy makes you horny as hell.”

“Bloody fucking hell, Soap,” Ghost snorts, lifting up to one elbow and dragging him down by the neck for a kiss.

next chapter early access

author's notes: y'all wore me down. I'm writing baby fic. What has the world come to

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Granny's Sugar Cookies

Summary: Working in Hero Force’s mail room is the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

Based off this prompt (X)

--------.

Travis, your supervisor, makes you take Disposal Training every two weeks to keep your skills fresh for the inevitable day something does show up in the mail.

“You’re lucky,” Travis says with his wide arms folded over his chest. He still wears the mail uniform from the 90’s with the pale blue, short-sleeved button down and the darker blue pinstripes. The Hero Force mask covering half of his face is in the new “regulation black” that every Hero Force personnel has to put on at the start of every shift. You hear Travis complain that they won’t let him wear the old brown one a lot. “But luck won’t ever take you further than training, kid.”

You aren’t a kid. In fact, Travis could almost be your kid. Your pension isn’t supposed to start for another three years, so that’s how long you need this job to last. There are rumors that Travis is trying to get you to quit before then as a way to prevent you from collecting retirement benefits from Hero Force. Save the company some money. You don’t think that’s true. You think that the extra training every second week is actually Travis’ way of being kind – you get to sit in the air-conditioned office for two hours and watch the same videos with your feet propped up.

Still, it is unusual that you haven’t opened anything criminal yet. Lots of people cautioned you against taking the job. Your neighbors, friends, your husband…even your eldest -who also works for Hero Force and who suggested it to you in the first place. They said it was the equivalent of being a poison taster for monarchs – it wasn’t a matter of if a disgruntled citizen was going to send Hero Force a bomb, but when.

“I don’t think it happens as often as people think,” you’d told your husband and child when the offer letter came. What you didn’t say was we don’t have a choice. You’d laughed and petted the coffee table. “Now maybe we can think about getting this old thing refinished, hm?”

Three years isn’t a long time anymore, not with a good 63 of them already under your belt. When the financial advisor ran the numbers and grimly told you how long you’d need to stay in the workforce, you’d been relieved. You’re fortunate that being a baker for most of your life has kept you reasonably fit and that you’re used to being on your feet.

Still, eight hours is a long time for anyone to be staring at bland white envelopes and brown boxes wrapped with yellow tape, so you’re thinking longingly of the bath you know your husband will have drawn for you at home when the blast doors slam down over the exit, trapping you and three of your coworkers in the sorting room.

You blink at the heavy metal plate that nearly took your (seemingly ever-growing) nose right off your face. The WARNING light hanging above the door is lit, casting the room in a striking red glow.

“You scanned that here?” Ring asks. He’s over at the sorting table, standing over the new hire’s shoulder. He gapes down at the screen held between her hands. It shows an x-ray of the box sitting innocuously on the sorting table. “Boxes with that dimension are supposed to be scanned in the disposal room!”

“It’s my last package,” the new hire says. You have to strain to hear her voice despite only being a dozen feet away. She’s already been given a nickname – Mouse. Fear makes her even quieter than before. “I-I thought—It’s to Strongwoman. Who would even think sending her a bomb would work? She got hit by a bus last week and the bus lost.”

“You know we don’t sort based on recipient,” Hawk says, pinching the bridge of her nose under her mask. She’s the veteran in the room, gaining her nickname from being the longest surviving member of the mail room after Travis and for having the highest number of successful disposals in history. Hawk eyed. “Your scan just told the defense system there’s a bomb in a vulnerable part of headquarters. We’ll be trapped here until they can get Demolition out to disarm it.”

“Or until it goes off,” Ring offers helpfully. Ring stands for ring the alarm, something he’s always doing. “Which it probably will before Demolition flies over from freakin’ California.”

Mouse hiccups. Her hands tremble on the scanner. “I-I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not…it could be something else?”

Ring and Hawk look at each other over her head. Ring tilts his head to the scanner. Hawk’s lips thin.

Translation: Unlikely.

“Maybe,” Hawk says. She puts a comforting hand on Mouse’s shoulder. “The only way to tell for sure is to open it.”

“Which protocol says we shouldn’t do,” Ring says.

You rub your nose. You don’t have to go to the bathroom this second, but you know your body. Protocol is not to carry a phone in the sorting room, so none of you have a way to you’re your husband and let him know you’ll be late. “How long do you think it will take for a disposal team to arrive? Supposing there’s one besides Demolition.”

Three heads whip towards you. There’s a range of emotions there, from surprise to dismay to dread.

“Oh no,” Mouse whispers, “I’ve killed Granny too.”

“If you survive, no one will ever forgive you,” Ring says.

Mouse’s eyes well with tears. “R-really?”

“Even Neon loves her muffins—"

Hawk hits him over the head hard enough his mask slips down over his eyes. While he curses and sets it to rights, she says, “Sorry, Granny. We’ll probably be waiting a while.”

You tug at your cardigan and shuffle over. The box is too big to be scanned in the sorting room – about the size of a case of flour you used to get delivered to the shop. The three of them make room for you on their side of the table. You squint at the screen. “What type of bomb is it?”

“Not like any I’ve seen before,” Hawk says. She takes the scanner from Mouse and angles it towards you. The box is shown in green and black lines. Inside is a cube of white and some curly bits. There are strange shadows across each shape, as if there are layers and layers of something over the top. “You?”

You raise your eyebrows. You thought it was common knowledge. “Well, I’ve never seen one before outside of training.”

Mouse starts. “Never seen—”

“Granny is lucky,” Ring says. He pats her on the shoulder like Hawk had. It’s nowhere near as comforting. “You’re just unlucky enough to have canceled that out.”

You pull out your glasses. You’re supposed to get the mask with your prescription over the eyes to prevent anyone from recognizing your personal eyewear. You think the prescription masks are itchy, however, so you regularly sneak them in your cardigan pocket. The scanner remains incomprehensible to you, even with them on. “It doesn’t look anything like it does in training.” You frown as the curls begin to look like ribbon the longer you stare at them. “Are you sure this is a bomb?”

“The defense system triggered on it,” Hawk says.

You wave your hand. These new AI systems are wrong all the time. You recently saw a news article about how the facial recognition software at the Hero Academy failed to pick out a top journalist, allowing him complete access to the campus. “They wouldn’t have us here sorting if the system were infallible.”

A strange look crosses Hawk’s face. “That’s one perspective.”

“It’s a state-of-the-art system,” Ring tells Mouse in a low tone. You imagine he thinks you can’t hear him or the faint laughter in his voice. “It’s not wrong.”

That grates. You may be new to the sorting room, but you aren’t wrong to question the systems. You point. “It could be cookies. See these disks here? Sugar cookies, I used to make a recipe just as thick. They’ve been very popular to send to Strongwoman lately; she must like them. And that’s the ribbon tying the box closed.”

“No,” Ring says. “No, it’s not cookies, Granny.”

Your spine stiffens. “I think it is.”

“Granny,” Hawk says tentatively. “Do you…often think things like these are cookies?”

“People do send the heroes a lot of baked goods,” you say. “It’s the best way to show gratitude!”

Mouse’s jaw drops. In a normal voice, she says, “You’ve been sending bombs onto heroes thinking they’re cookies?”

“Because they are,” you say.

“Oh my god,” Ring says. “Granny has seen a bomb, she just hasn’t recognized one before. Oh my god.”

You’re too old to stamp your feet. Instead, you narrow your eyes at Ring like you did when your eldest drew on the walls. “I have not. I open each package—”

“You open them?!”

“Protocol—"

“-and they’re always just cookies,” you say. You snag the package before any of them can move. “I’ll prove it to you!”

There’s a bit of a scuffle. Mouse doesn’t move out of the way of Ring’s lunge in time, and they both topple onto the table. Hawk tries to yank the package away from you, shouting something or other about better to be cautious or Granny stop! But you’re stronger than they think. They may call you Granny, but you’re only 63! Do they think you need a cane to walk?

You rip open the tape. Mouse screams. Ring whimpers. Hawk closes her eyes tight. You shake out the contents of the box.

A pink pastry plops out of the package and onto the scanning table. The three of them are frozen, eyes darting over the pretty ribbon curled into a bow holding it closed. With an indignant huff, you use a letter opener to cut the ribbon and flip back the lid.

Sugar cookies in six sloppy rows and stacked four deep sit inside.

“See?” you say triumphantly. “Sugar cookies!”

Hawk’s brow is furrowed. “That’s not—that can’t be—”

The bomb doors slide down and the WARNING light switches off. The system beeps three times and then falls silent. The quiet that fills the room sounds like victory.

“…so I can go home now?” Mouse asks.

“Yes,” you say smugly. You know it’s bad manners, but all the excitement has dropped your blood sugar. You snag a cookie and bite into it. “We all can.”

Ring and Hawk stay behind, staring from the box to each other and back again as you go home.

----.

You have two days off, and then Travis is off the day you come back so it takes three days for someone to tell you it was a bomb in that box.

That someone is Foresight, the leader of Hero Force.

He looks out of place in the sorting room, smiling and standing by the door as you shuffle from cart to cart to collect your jobs for the day. Travis is there with his arms folded and his eyes narrowed on Foresight.

“We call your class of power S-class,” Foresight explains. “The ability to change reality with a thought – it’s only been observed in a handful of super-powered individuals.”

“I don’t care what power she has,” Travis says. “You aren’t poaching Granny.”

“I would also like to stay in the mail room,” you say.

Foresight opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He looks bemused as he says, “Alright then. We do need to quantify your power. Does Thursday work for you?”

“Yes,” Travis answers for you. “We’ll be there.”

Your ears perk up. Maybe it will be a long meeting. Maybe you’ll have a chance to sit down. “Thursday it is then. I’ll bring some snacks for everyone.”

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and see stories like this one before anyone else, please consider checking out my Patreon(X)!

Next week's story is already posted and is a follow up to this story (X) about Nadezh and Gannon

[taeyongdoyoung]

daddy's home

summary: boyfriendless, jobless and hopeless, you rush to take the first opportunity you find, which is a nanny position. but the kids are not the only ones you grow fond of... pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: fluff, smut, single dad x nanny AU warnings: kids (triggering, i know), age gap (unspecified), mentions of past cheating, abandonment issues, potential therapy, male masturbation, confessions, blowjob, kissing, eating out, protected sex (unbelievable), dirty talk, size kink, pet names (sweetheart, angel, darling, little girl), sir+daddy kink, unprotected sex (with baby-making goal), breeding kink, creampie, more kids (sorry im ovulating) author's note: this is loosely based on the sitcom the nanny in that there's a single dad with three kids but minus the dead wife trope cuz that's too depressing for my tastes word count: 4.3k

You are desperate. Your shitty boyfriend cheated on you, broke up with you and you also lost your job. So it’s been a couple of terrible weeks. Now, you would take pretty much any kind of job as long as it pays enough for you to afford food and the bills. ASAP.

Single dad looks for a live-in nanny for his three kids. Full-time with Sundays off. Contact this number for more details.

Okay, truth be told, you’ve never considered yourself as someone who is good with kids. But how hard can it be? Have you mentioned you’re desperate?

“Listen, Miss L/N,” Mr. Choi, your potential future employer starts. “I appreciate your enthusiasm but I’m not just going to hire you. I’m looking for someone with experience.”

“Well, I have a bunch of nephews, if they turned out alright under my care, then I guess that counts for something,” you chuckle.

“That’s very nice but I’m talking about professional experience. Have you been a nanny before?”

“Technically, no, but how can I get experience if you won’t hire me?”

“Touché,” Mr. Choi laughs.

“How about a trial period? Let me spend some time with your kids under your supervision and prove myself capable.”

Mr. Choi nods reluctantly.

“Well, you’re in luck since my little goblins have driven away five nannies in the past month.”

Oh, dear. Five nannies…And here you were thinking this could be an easy job.

“So, what’s one more?” you chuckle nervously and Mr. Choi shakes your hand, agreeing to give you a chance.

You are excited when meeting his kids. The eldest daughter - Chaerry is 15, very elegant and polite. You think that you’ll have no problems with her and you’ll have lots to talk about. The middle child and only son - Dino is 10, extremely mischievous and loud. You’ll definitely have problems. Finally, the youngest daughter, Elsie, is 5, she’s such a cutie but leaves a mess of her toys everywhere she goes. It’s easy to trip if you’re not careful, but nothing you can’t handle.

The trial period goes by in a flash. Dino attempts to get on your nerves by pulling pranks like hiding fake spiders in your bag and spraying your outfit with ketchup, but you accept all that with an easygoing laugh. Elsie constantly asks you to play with her toys and you need an unlimited source of ideas to keep up with her wild imagination, but it feels more like fun than a job. Chaerry is quiet and doesn’t share much at the beginning but eventually tells you about this boy at school she has a crush on. So, you count that as a success.

“I must admit, Miss L/N, I had some worries at first but seeing how quickly my kids accepted you is remarkable,” Mr. Choi shares his observations with you at the end of the trial period.

“So, am I hired, then?” you beam with excitement.

“Absolutely, yes. The kids have taken a liking to you and changing nannies so often is probably not great for them, either.”

“So true. Kids need stability and I would be happy to stick around for as long as you’ll have me, Mr. Choi,” you are thrilled not only because you will have a bed to sleep, food to eat and money to spend, but because you are genuinely looking forward to spending more time with these little munchkins.

And spend time with them you do. You're not sure what exactly it is that makes the kids warm up to you, but whatever the reason, it's working.

With Chaerry, you talk about boys and high school drama and make-up. On one occasion, she tells you something that sincerely touches you.

“Thank you for being my best friend, Y/N. I know I shouldn't keep stuff from my dad, but he can be so overprotective sometimes it's difficult to talk about...well, going on dates with boys, mostly.”

“Aww, Chae, you can tell me anything. It'll be our little secret,” you give her a wink, followed by a hug.

You're not exactly sure what the correct response here is. But you'll make sure to maintain some kind of balance - both look after her safety so that Mr. Choi sleeps peacefully at night and not betray Chaerry's trust in you.

With Dino, after the initial phase of silly pranks passes, you notice that he's become more honest and calm.

“You won't leave us like our mom and all the other nannies did, will you?” he asks you one afternoon as you're watching TV together.

You haven't asked Mr. Choi what exactly happened with these kids' mother because frankly, it's none of your business, but something is telling you they're a lot more hurt than they let on.

“I'm not going anywhere, Dino,” you promise, though really, it's up to Mr. Choi to decide that.

“Good. It would really suck if you left.”

That's a lot, coming from the kid who damaged like half of your wardrobe with all kinds of sauces.

With Elsie, another strange situation takes place due to the fact that the kid has no filter.

“Let's play family!”

“Um, okay,” you agree without thinking much.

“This will be daddy,” Elsie points at a stuffed lion plushie and then grabs a tiger plushie, “And this is you, mommy!”

“Oh, honey. I'm not your mommy,” you try to explain as gently as possible.

“But can you be? Daddy says our mommy left and has a new family somewhere else.”

Okay, that's a lot to unpack here. Though you don't think it is your place, you'll need to have a conversation with Mr. Choi, because the kids obviously have some kind of unresolved trauma...

One evening, after the kids have gone to sleep, instead of going to your room, you wait in the living room for your employer to come back from work, so you can approach the subject as delicately as you can.

“Good evening, Miss L/N. Kids go to bed?” he greets you as he takes off his coat.

“Evening, Mr. Choi. Yes, they did. I was wondering if we can have a chat. It can be a sensitive topic, I'm sure, but for the sake of the kids, I think it's important.”

Mr. Choi nods and takes a seat next to you on the couch.

“About their mother...”

“I was wondering how long it'd take you to bring that up,” he chuckles bitterly. “Other nannies wanted me to spill the tea on day one.”

“Wow, seriously?”

“It's not like it's this big secret, I just prefer not to talk about it unless absolutely necessary. My ex-wife...cheated on me and got pregnant by another man, so we had a divorce and I kept the kids, because she said she wants to start anew with this other guy, and...well, the kids said this is their home and that they won't move. So, I suppose the judge took that under consideration.”

“My God. I had no idea.”

“You couldn't have known, considering I just said I don't enjoy revisiting those painful memories.”

“Yes, of course, I only meant that...I guess it explains some things. Forgive me for saying this, but I think the kids have some kind of abandonment issues. Elsie and Dino, in particular, they seem to have a fear that I'll leave just like...well, their mom and the other nannies.”

“And are you? Leaving, I mean.”

“Not if I can help it. Mr. Choi, your kids are very vibrant and precious to me. I genuinely love my job. But I'm worried that what happened with your ex-wife affected them more than they show. Maybe you should look into therapy?”

“I will definitely take that into consideration. Thank you for your candour, Miss L/N.”

“You're most welcome.”

“What about Chaerry?”

“What about her?”

“You said that Elsie and Dino express these abandonment issues. Does Chaerry not have them?”

“She probably does, but at the moment she's too busy thinking about boys.”

“Boys? At her tender age? I don't think so,” Mr. Choi immediately goes into ultra alpha protective dad mode and you honestly find it kind of funny. And hot.

“Oh, relax, Mr. Choi. It's just typical high school drama. There's nothing to be worried about.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly.

“I'm counting on you. Does it ever occur to you how quickly they grow up?”

“I suppose it's more difficult for you. I've only known them for a few months but I think I get what you mean.”

“Yeah...How strange, it feels like you've been part of this family forever.”

You try not to think too deeply about it. He...considers you part of this family. Elsie called you mommy. Dino doesn't want you to leave. And Chaerry talks to you about boys. A topic, which girls usually discuss with their mothers. Oh, sweet heavens. Maybe, this nanny gig is becoming more than a job...

One Monday Mr. Choi texts you not to come to work this Saturday, as the kids will be spending some time with their grandparents (aka Mr. Choi's parents). However, the moment you receive the text, you're too busy trying to escape from Dino who is chasing you with a water gun in the garden. So, you somehow forget to put it down in your calendar.

Saturday arrives and poor Mr. Choi thinks you'd be in your own apartment. Finally, some peace and quiet. His parents picked up the kids early in the morning to go to the park with them so he's all alone and free to do as he pleases.

But alas, you go down the stairs of Mr. Choi's enormous house and make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast for the kids. However, it's too quiet. Hm, how strange. Maybe, they're not awake yet? You shrug as you pour some milk and cereal in a bowl.

Oh, you hear some noise from the living room. Is that the TV? Your curiosity gets the better of you and you enter it only to find Mr. Choi in a very compromising position. He is touching himself, watching very obscene things on the big screen!

You are on the verge of chastising your boss for doing something like that in the living room, where the kids could walk in any minute, when you remember. The kids...They're with their grandparents today. Which means that...Fuck, you're not supposed to be here. You should be at your own apartment instead of being witness to...your very sexy and very single employer taking care of his needs.

You are going to sneak back into the kitchen and wait for a more appropriate time to leave the house when you hear it. At first you think you're hallucinating but then you hear it twice. Your name.

“Y/N...please, let me-” Mr. Choi moans, his eyes closed, he is unaware of your presence.

However, he doesn't get to finish his sentence because you are so shocked that you drop the bowl of cereal, which shatters on the ground with a loud noise.

“Fuck, I'm so so sorry,” you murmur nervously as your boss finally notices you watching him.

His cheeks flushed, his lips pouting, he is the most adorable you've ever seen him. He hurries to tuck his cock back into his pants and turn off the TV.

“N-no, I'm sorry...Miss L/N, what are you doing here?”

Oh, so you're Miss L/N now...Very well, then.

“I apologize. It must have slipped my mind that the kids are with their grandparents today.”

“It must have,” Mr. Choi repeats coldly, obviously embarrassed by this situation.

You wonder if you should tell him what you heard. Would that be unprofessional? But then again, he is the one who said your name, so...what is professional anyway?

“Do you want me to leave?”

He sighs deeply.

“What's the point? You already saw me...fuck, I feel so humiliated.”

“Why would you feel humiliated? Am I so undesirable that my presence immediately turned you off?” you ask bluntly.

“That's not the case and you know it.”

“I'm not sure I know anything anymore,” you admit. “You...said my name. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

“You were never meant to hear that,” Mr. Choi hides his face behind his hands, the redness refusing to leave his complexion.

“But I did. So, what now?”

“Please, don't quit. I realize that what I did is unforgivable but...the kids care about you so much, it would devastate them to lose you.”

“I wasn't even thinking of quitting. But...are the kids the only ones who care about me?” you need to know.

“No...As it so happens, I care about you.”

“So, stop hiding from me,” you don't know where that boldness comes from as you grab his wrists and remove his hands, so you can look at his face. Fuck, he's so pretty.

“You're not...grossed out by me?” Mr. Choi blinks at you in surprise.

“Kinda flattered, actually,” you confess. “But I'd like it much better if you let me take care of your frustrations.”

“You would?” he is unable to believe his luck when you drop on your knees in front of him and take him out of his pants again, engulfing his cock with your pretty mouth. “Y/N...”

The way he says your name is enough to make you even more enthusiastic, sucking him deeper and bobbing your head to the best of your abilities. He grips your hair tightly and you make sure not a drop is spilled as you swallow his cum down your throat. You wipe off your lips and sit down next to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Mr. Choi...”

“Call me Cheol, please.”

“Cheol...may I kiss you?”

Seungcheol doesn't respond and instead kisses you passionately, grabbing your face with his hands. His tongue is exploring your mouth in ways you'd never imagined could bring so much pleasure and you can't resist the urge to sit in his lap. Somehow, against all reason, he's hard again, as you grind against him. Fuck. He's so hot and sweet and amazing you just want to make him happy. How anyone could cheat on this fine man is beyond you.

“Um...not to assume or anything, but do you have a condom?” you ask sheepishly.

“I do, yes,” Seungcheol goes to his coat and brings a package.

“I mean, don't get me wrong, I love kids, but I think we should be responsible considering this is our first time together and you already have three of your own,” you're probably talking too much but oh well. Better safe than sorry.

“No, I understand. You're totally right.”

“Will you fuck me?” you inquire.

“Here? On the couch?” Seungcheol is in disbelief.

“Well...you were touching yourself here, but I guess it's whatever. Your home, after all.”

He chuckles, suddenly embarrassed again.

“Come on, let's go to my room.”

Seungcheol offers you his hand and you follow him upstairs excitedly. Is this really happening? Are you seriously going to do this with your boss?

He lifts your chin up because he notices you're not meeting his eyes out of nervousness.

“Look at me,” he commands you easily and you're on the verge of falling apart and he hasn't even undressed you yet. The power this man holds over you... “We don't have to do this if you're not ready.”

“It's not that. I do want this. It's just...I don't remember if I told you but I was also cheated on. A little before I came to work here. And like, I haven't been intimate for a while, so I'm nervous. What if I mess something up?”

“Okay, first of all, give me that asshole's address, I just wanna talk. And second of all...darling, I haven't been intimate since way before my divorce took place. Trust me, I'm a lot more nervous than you right now.”

You shake your head.

“Whatever you do, I'm sure I'll find it like super hot.”

Seungcheol laughs and tilts his head, kissing you again.

“You're so cute,” he whispers against your mouth. “I can't wait to ruin you.”

And just like that, it's as if a switch is flipped. He pushes you onto the bed and leans above you menacingly, a devilish smirk painting his pretty face. Seungcheol pushes your dress up hurriedly, touching you all over.

“You really thought you could get away with it, huh? Walking around my house in those dresses of yours looking so sexy? Tempting me?”

“N-no, s-sir,” you murmur, not knowing where the title is coming from.

“God, I'm such a cliché. An old man unable to resist the gorgeous young nanny...”

“You're not old, sir,” you try to reassure him. You're not sure if he's just engaging in dirty talk or is actually having some insecurities. He's still young in your eyes. Whatever the case, you're there for him.

“Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I'm too old for ya...I have three kids. What do you have, hm?” Seungcheol speaks while caressing your pussy through your panties.

“I have you, sir,” you smile and palm his dick teasingly.

He sighs wistfully and buries his head between your folds, licking and teasing until you're a soaking mess for him.

“S-sir, p-please...C-cheol, don't stop,” you cry out helplessly.

It feels so good, too good. He holds you down, hands gripping your thighs as you cum against his tongue. He barely gives you any time to recover as he rolls up a condom on his cock. You stare at him hungrily, impatient to have him inside of you.

Seungcheol is like the drug everyone warned you about. Once you have him, you won't be able to quit.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly in sharp contrast with his previous behaviour.

“Please take me, Cheol,” you would beg if you had to.

And take you he does, entering you deeply with his big cock.

“Fuck, you're so tight, barely fitting me in,” he speaks, stroking your clit in circular motions with his thumb, while he fucks you harshly.

“It's okay, I won't break, sir,” you try to convince him.

“What if I want you to break, little girl?” Seungcheol inquires, his voice half-joking, half-serious, as he.

“Then, I'd be happy to serve you, daddy,” the word slips from your lips before you could think twice about it.

“Daddy, huh? You need daddy to make you cum?” you are grateful he plays along instead of making fun of you in this very vulnerable moment.

“Yes, daddy, please, I'll do anything for you,” you promise in a daze.

“Cum for me, sweet girl, let daddy take care of you,” his deep voice is enough to bring you to the edge.

“Fuuuck, daddy...Cheol,” you mumble repeatedly, as white appears before your eyes.

You're shaking in his arms but it feels like flying.

“I've got you, angel, daddy's right here,” Seungcheol comforts you, as he rides out his own high, spilling inside the condom. Then, taking it off and throwing it in the garbage bin, he hurries back to you.

You make grabby hands at him and he envelops you in a hug.

“I'm here, sweetheart,” he kisses your forehead gently and you melt against his chest.

“Cheol...I think you just murdered me a little,” you laugh.

“Well, then, I better make sure I revive you, because I can't imagine my life without you.”

“Good. You ain't getting rid of me.”

“That sounds perfect because me and the kids would like you to stick around.”

“Oh God, the kids! What time are they coming back?”

“We've got time, don't worry, they should-”

“Daaaad, we're home!” you hear Dino's loud voice from downstairs.

“Fuck,” Cheol curses under his breath and the two of you hurry to make yourselves look somewhat presentable.

Once dressed and back in the living room, you can only hope that you're not too obvious about what went down. However, you can't stop yourself from glancing at Seungcheol and he's just as flustered as you.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Dino greets you as if it's completely normal for you to be there. As if you belong.

“How was your time with your grandparents?” you ask, trying to act casual.

“We had so much ice cream!” Elsie squeals excitedly.

“Grandma and Grandpa took us to the park,” Chaerry starts telling you about everything they did in great detail and you are glad that the shy girl you first met is becoming a confident young woman.

Elsie is asking for more ice cream but Seungcheol is explaining that it's lunch time. Dino is painting the table with mustard and honestly, that's so on brand for him...

It is funny where desperation brought you. You realize this is the happiest you've been in a while.

Later, when Seungcheol catches you alone after spending the afternoon with the kids, he asks:

“I know we kinda messed up the proper order of things, but...would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh! I'd love that, Cheol. Is it okay to still call you that?”

“Yeah, it's alright.”

“What about in front of the kids? I'm not sure to what point you'd like to mix professional with...personal life.”

“In front of the kids is okay, too,” he laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, do you know what Elsie keeps asking me?”

“What?”

“When will you make Y/N my new mommy?”

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like something Elsie would say.”

“So, um, no pressure. But I think you're more than the nanny to me.”

“Well, I would certainly hope so. I didn't raise you, mister!”

Seungcheol can't miss the opportunity for a joke. He takes hold of your hand and places it on top of his...very hard dick.

“You raised him, though,” he whispers.

“Mr. Choi!” you hiss, scandalized. “I mean...Cheol.”

“Did you mean daddy?” Seungcheol teases you relentlessly.

“Stop it, you deviant!” you shake your head. “Fuck, you'll never let me live this down, will ya?”

“Do you kiss your boss with that mouth?” he smirks.

“Don't mind if I do,” you reply and bring your lips to his.

A year passes by quickly. You love every day of your life. Whether it'll be spending time with the kids, or going on fun dates with your boss turned boyfriend, or having mind-blowing sex with said specimen, you are truly happy with how things turned out for the best.

With one tiny thing missing.

“Cheol, can I ask you something?” you mumble one evening, as you are playing with his soft, fluffy hair.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Seungcheol turns towards you, giving you his fullest attention.

“Have you ever thought about having more kids?”

“Hmm, it hasn't crossed my mind. I already have three kids. But it depends. Is that something you're interested in?”

“Not till now. But if it's with you, I'd love to have a kid,” you confess shyly.

“Well, then, let's make you a mommy,” Seungcheol quickly makes it his mission and for the first time, doesn't use a condom.

“Yes, please, daddy, give me your cum,” you moan wantonly, as he fucks you deep.

“Take it like the good girl you are, I'll give you all I've got, fuck a baby in ya,” he grunts in your ear, sounding even more excited than you are.

“I love it, feel so full,” you whimper and can't stop kissing him. You can't believe this beautiful man is yours and wants to give you another present.

“That's right, sweetheart, I'll stuff you full of it,” he moans and releases himself inside you. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, as you reach your high.

Seungcheol gently pushes the cum that's spilling out of your pussy back inside and lifts your legs up.

“Do you think it'll stick?” you ask doubtfully.

“Can't hurt to try again until it does,” he shrugs, determined to succeed.

Nine months later, as you welcome the twins into the family, you realize you've never expected to achieve so much happiness.

“You really had to outdo yourself and give me not one but two babies,” you playfully push Seungcheol's shoulder.

“Is it too late now to say sorry?” he grins nervously.

“Don't be. I'm more than satisfied. But you'll have to give me a raise!”

“I'll give you something better than that,” Seungcheol promises and pulls a diamond ring out of his pocket.

“Oh my God,” you are in shock.

“Y/N...you've given me more than I could ever hope to deserve. You started off as a nanny but you became my three kids' best friend and now, the mother of two more angels. You became my closest person, my source of joy, my sweetheart. Knowing that I can come home to you is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Will you do me the absolute honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, of course, yes!” you say through your tears and kiss him, as he slides the ring on your finger.

“Can I call you mommy now?” Elsie peeks her adorable head behind the door, followed by Dino and Chaerry, who are all excited by the good news.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Chaerry greets you with a hug and whispers: “Thanks for taking one for the team and making our lonely old man. happy.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Seungcheol complains loudly.

Dino jumps on the back of his dad with a loud squeal.

“You better treat her right, Dad!” the boy warns. “Or I'll ketchup your room!”

“Why do I feel like I'm the one being welcomed into the family?” Seungcheol bemoans his fate but he's never smiled wider.

“You'll get used to it,” you joke. “Come on, guys, meet your new brother and sister.”

“Hii, babies!” Elsie and Dino jump excitedly around the twins.

“Oh, they're so cute! Aren't they so cute, Dad?” Chaerry coos at the babies.

“They are, but it's too early for you to think about how cute babies are. Look at me...I already have five. Isn't it tragic?” Seungcheol keeps messing around.

“It could have been twelve or something,” you play along.

“I can't imagine,” Seungcheol cries out indignantly. But deep down, maybe he can.

The End

[sangunary]

hear me out, batfamily with a teenage reader that gets in trouble for fighting...BUT the reader won because they had used a move they saw that member of the batfamily do. For example, Reader jabs the other kid in the throat to choke them up then suplex's them or something😭 OR Reader uses a weapon they might've used and won that fight (obviously not Damian's or Jason's because they can be lethal) but it can't be Bruce's either because that's just straight hands and reader isn't that advanced yet lol. So i'm just gonna go with Dick or Tim's weapon of choice. Say for example there's for some reason a heavy but thin lying pole around, Reader just grabs that and starts beating on the kid with it but with Red Robin's moves for some reason(or nightwing's). this is purely just for fun but tysm for reading it at least. if you do write it may it PLEASE be separate with the characters? like to each their own scenario, or not it's up to you

- Teenagers Are Scary.

BatBoys × sibling reader ( Platonic )

SYPNOSIS: Copy and Paste but just make it more violent.

You were never one to hesitate every since you were born, that's how you were raise. The one that hesitate will be left to starve and the ones who never hesitate got to see the daylight again.

Simple and easy rule, nothing complicated about it.

Growing up in the street really build characters in people.

Hesitation doesn't run in the blood, an unattended belonging? yours, a wallet that is very visible? yours, random money on the ground? yours. If it's not by someone side it's yours.

Even if angry dogs are surrounding it, you would fight them. Older kids trying to steal something you already set your eyes on? Just use the plank or brick to scare them or better hit them hard enough to scare but not hard enough for jail.

That's how you and your mother survive for eight years, it wasn't fancy like in the books but it was something. You can't blame a kid for trying to survive.

After a long day of running from people's and cops that want you dead you went home, your mother laying dead on the ground.

You sit near her body for a day straight without moving, no tears, no panick, just processing the moment and trying to find a way to escape the orphanage system.

Then he came, batman. One look at your rough and dirty self suddenly you got adopted by a rich man the next day.

Who you later found out to be batman.

You had promise yourself to forget about the past life and finally choose the peaceful way of life when you had an option.

But, boy do you wish to raise your hand.

"Do you have Asthama?"

You asked the boy who had been bothering another girl for sometimes, she herself clearly told him to stop but he doesn't seem to understand english.

"No... Wh-"

Before he could answer you, you jabbed him on the neck.

Turns out defending people against annoying people is a bad thing and got suspended for a week.

"Little wing, why would you jab him? You do realise that you are suspended right? It better be for a good reason, you're lucky B isn't here"

Dick the moment he saw you walk inside began to lecture you on behalf of Bruce, well let's be honest he's alot more kind but his word hold more significant since he's the eldest.

"He was annoying"

You answered simply, you didn't understand what you did wrong you just simply defend a harmless girl.

Why is everyone so mad for? A rematch would be a good way to get everyone off your back.

"Little wing, this isn't like the street you can't harm people for that reason here... Now what did he do exactly?"

After explaining what had happened he seems to be relaxing... But still not happy with the way you had handle it.

"He could have hurt you... And thank God he didn't cause I won't be able to stop whatever forces that will be seeking revenge on your behalf."

Dick added to lighten the mood up, he meant Damian and Jason would definitely terrorise the kid if he touch you.

You have learnt how to jab people without any long term damage by watching him... So he was also involve one way or another.

He doesn't know if he should be mad or impress that you learn such move by just watching and somehow practising.

"Don't tell B, im proud of you for handling the case maybe next time just not too much violence?"

He pat your head as he smile, his siblings are so diverse one doesn't even realise what hesitation is...

"Still, pretend to be upset Alfred might catch on that I let you free"

Jason on the other hand was excited to meet you after he got news that you got in another fight.

Jason understand your anger and lack of hesitate alot better than anyone else.

He was also from the street and surprisingly when he was your age he was very kind compared to you.

He can see that you were trying your best to not go back to your old life style but it's hard when it's everything you ever knew.

At the park while you were going out with a friend this new girl with the entitlement of an European monarchy came up to her and push her.

Well for any mature person they would let it go and talk about it later.

Not you, never you.

You wouldn't let another hand touch your precious friend like that, from where you were from that was the biggest sign of disrespect and that isn't alright.

You complete forgot about the fact that you were no longer obliged to follow that rule and went after her.

The poor girl was running for her life as you continued to chase her, thanks to the fact that you were used to running from cops you caught to her quick.

Although you weren't stupid enough or mad enough to just yank her by her hair you insted hug her.

She was utterly confused and did try to struggle her way out of your grip.

But Instead you held tighter, not forgetting that adult's were indeed present.

"The leaf are slippery"

After that sentence you accidentally fell backwards while still holding onto the girl and lifting her, suplexing her.

You've saw Jason did it before infact he taught you that move.

He was always the one who brought up on how you would be able to defend yourself from bully without any warning or problem.

Basically Jason train you to beat others without getting into trouble, he was a professional.

"So you use the move?"

He asked curiously, afterall he had been waiting to hear the result of his teaching for a while.

"Yup, they actually check up on me first than her"

"Good, I supposed teaching you the art of violence in disguise is a great bounding material. I am a better mentor than that bat"

Jason exclaimed, he wanted to say he was proud but he need to hold back so you'll continue to work harder.

"Can you teach me how to terrorise people without direct involvement next?"

Yup, you're the best sibling he could ever ask for.

Tim on the other hand seeing you with no hesitation scared him, abit.

You had been accompanying him during his patrol, although you weren't a vigilante yet Bruce insist that you learn the route and other small matters. (He wants you to bound with your siblings more)

As a result you were tagging along with Tim, with a paper bag on your hear with a hole for an eye. Your fashion was unimaginable.

You were learning good and overall a good night. Bruce did gave you a uniform but you like to wear a normal' pants and shirt with sneakers and a paper bag from the last fast good you order.

While chasing after a kid that you absolutely hate you managed to catch him before he could due to pure hatred.

Picking up a thin metal pipe and hitting him on the leg as he kiss the ground hard. Tim notice the way you hold it, just like he did.

He did remember during the latest patrol you two had he did use the same move just yours was sloppier and you hit them alot harder.

It was like looking at the past, you really did learn everything from the way he hold it to even how you were standing... He's abit scared on how fast you catch up.

The kid was squirming on the ground cause you did hit him on the knee with a loud thud.

You on the other hand place your foot on him to stop him from moving, yes it wasn't necessary but you took your chance.

"Cuff him"

You demanded still holding onto the pipe.

Tim doesn't know if he should tell you or let Bruce take his part as your father... Well he would most likely be drag in since he is his son as well...

"You hit him too hard, don't step on him either he isn't resisting"

He told you, he can't let Bruce know about this.

"Could have done worse"

you mumbled, listening to your older brother.

Damian was picking you up from school when he saw you getting pick on.

He saw the other kid tugging at your hair more then once and you were surprisingly calm. Damian was disappointment at that moment.

He doesn't like seeing people just taking it when they're being bullied and he was thinking about teaching you how to fight.

Last time he check you beat the life out of Tim with a pillow. Maybe you weren't as much of a demon outside? You must be one of those people who cares about reputa-

Before he could finish thinking you look at the kid dead in the eye.

Put your hands on his shoulder and hit him with your forehead, the kid on the other hand began to cry as you went back to normal.

It was satisfying to watch, the kid friends tried to comfort and even try to hit you back.

He was abit concern now, you were the youngest and they out number you plus you haven't been trained yet you were eleven.

You took a very thick book from someone wnd proceed to hit them with it and yeah you won.

One example and no one wanted to know what you will use next.

"What was that about?"

He asked, he knew what it was about he just wanted to hear you talk about it.

"I saw you hitting Tim with your forehead once... That got him to shut up, I just wanted him to stop I didn't knew it would hurt"

Lie, you knew damn well how much ut would hurt. Your forehead is turning red from the impact.

Damian does remember what you were referring to, Dick, Jason and Tim tried to smash his face with cake and Tim was the one holding the cake.

He headbutt him because struggling out of Dick hold was hard and he just wanted to hit Tim, fortunately you were there to witness everything.

Guess he's a good influence then.

The book was just you utilising your surrounding object. Hitting them hard was just to show them who the real deal was.

He wasn't mad, he was the same when he was your age just honest. You? could talk your way out of it with that facade innocent of yours.

Atleast one of his siblings is nearly as great as he is.

[theemporium]

ok so in quinn x luke’s bsf ellen says quinn has been crushing on her since they were kids could you do a little blurb basically quinn confirming that to her?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

series masterlist

.

“Awww, look at this one!” 

Your eyes shifted away from the album currently sitting on your lap, turning to look at the picture Ellen was holding out to you with a fond smile. Your face instantly softened at the sight of your boyfriend when he was a child, around four or five years old, standing in ankle deep water with armbands and goggles on. 

“God, he was so cute,” you commented, taking the picture from her hand to inspect it closely. “What happened?” 

“Geez, thanks.” 

You grinned at Quinn from his spot on the other couch, arms crossed and cheeks red like he wasn’t enjoying the impromptu walk down memory lane with the old photo albums Jim had found in the garage earlier that day. 

“I guess you’re not too bad now too,” you added. 

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the smile tugging on his lips.

“Oh, look at this one! God, you and Luke must have been, what? Nine? Ten?” 

You couldn’t help but snort at the photo, staring back at a younger version of yourself who was stuck on a tiny bench with all three Hughes brothers and a melting ice cream in your hand. “That must have been before Luke broke his ankle.”

“I thought Luke was thirteen when he broke his ankle,” Quinn muttered, his nose scrunching up. 

“No, it was around that age,” Ellen agreed, nodding her head as she smiled down at the photo before looking towards her eldest son—a glint in her eyes that made him sit up straight. “That was the same summer he almost broke your wrist with the crutches when you—”

Quinn quickly sat up. “We don’t have to—” 

“Oh yeah!” You laughed, shaking your head. “He said it was because Quinn kept rubbing it in that Jim was letting him drive the boat.”

Ellen snorted. “Oh, sweetie, it was never because of that.” 

“Mum,” Quinn gritted through clenched teeth, his cheeks starting to burn up. 

Your brows furrowed. “What? I swore that was what Luke said.” 

“That’s because he didn’t want you to know that Quinn had spent the weeks before your family visited doing odd jobs for the neighbours to save enough money to buy two tickets for the cinema,” Ellen stated, her own amusement growing as she watched your confusion grow. “Two tickets for you and him.” 

“Oh my god,” Quinn grumbled. 

Your head snapped around. “You were gonna ask me out to the cinema?” 

“Privacy does not exist in this family,” Quinn muttered, pointedly ignoring your gaze as he stared at the photo albums on the coffee table.

“Honey, he was smitten for you,” Ellen teased. “Luke hated it. Honestly, it’s a surprise he didn’t catch onto the two of you earlier with the way Quinn was obsessed with you.” 

“Obsessed,” you repeated, a fond smile on your lips as you stared at your boyfriend’s side profile. 

“This is evil,” Quinn retorted, his eyes narrowed at Ellen. “You’re doing this on purpose.” 

“It was a sweet memory I thought deserved to be told,” Ellen countered with a knowing smile.

“Does the cinema date offer still count?” You asked, a slight teasing tone to your words but the smile was genuine.

“As long as you don’t bring Luke along,” Quinn replied, grinning when you rolled your eyes in response instead. 

“I think I can get rid of him for a few hours,” you laughed. “We clearly have a lot of dates that he blocked to catch up on.”

.

[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

At work plagued by thoughts of a mech bigger than you can imagine.

She starts like most of them do, a Titan excavator rig modestly sized for their line: maybe a house or thereabouts, a big house. (Doesn’t matter why she signed up - perhaps a breadwinner, a lone mother or eldest sister, a daughter of aging parents nobody else will take; doesn’t matter what site they sent her to, Earth or Enceladus or Venus or Europa. She’s there, and she lets them strap her in and adapt her for the piloting interface and pump her full of protein ooze and electrolytes and hyperstimulant cocktails as obediently as the next laborer.)

Upgrades come, from big house to bigger, with shovels like hillsides and treads like highways. Still she remains in the cockpit, out only for one day every six months to say hello to her burgeoning family, who have moved nearby to make it easy on her, to meet the baby nephews and nieces whose names she doesn’t yet know.

War comes. The facility hunkers down. It just makes sense to retrofit their biggest digger with shields, to expand her arsenal a little more, give her a better engine, pour all their leftover resources into making her a great guardian, and she rises to the occasion, shielding them from orbital rays, absorbing the energy and taking the pain of it up into her own engines. When the corporate rats who own the site finally turn tail and run the workers and their families band together and do the needful repairs themselves. Her nieces and nephews grow up learning engineering by the light of oil lamps from stolen Old Era textbooks and jailbroken datapads. She hardly ever now glimpses their faces with her own two eyes from within her steel shell but it is a worthy sacrifice to her, to them, for both parties know she is still there, still with them, embracing them in a great steel hug and watching through a thousand glass-lensed eyes.

Years pass. The brightest of her nieces works out how to modify the nutrition cocktail going into her cockpit so she will never age, never die, never fall sick. Somewhere in there all the metal and ceramic encloses her ever-sleeping body like a lotus flower around the benevolent, immortal form of a bodhisattva.

The outpost survives the war, somehow. Refugees hear of the little town on the colony that could, guarded by a goddess the size of a temple, and flock there. It makes sense to add to her control, among her array of sensors and actuators, the new city’s power generation and delivery system, its wall defenses, its waste management, its communications mains. Nowhere is anything safer than with her.

With all these new additions come techs and custodians to keep her in good care. They build modest crew cabins nestled amongst her treads (now rusty from disuse) so they can be close to her, the better to help her.

Slowly more and more falls under her purview, new cabins, then mezzanines and stairways and platforms between them; each generation has their own superstitions that they add to those of the last before them, so paintings crop up on her metal panels now, in nooks and crannies, often crude symbols that promise good oil changes or swift code updates, or simply depictions of their goddess, of the war she survived. Still she watches.

Her nieces and nephews are all dead now, and their nieces and nephews look on through rheumed eyes as the city attains new heights, heralded everywhere on every planet that still lives as an oasis of peace and prosperity. Still she watches.

A new company comes, enticed by the stories. They want to buy her. Buy her! The people scoff. As if you could just buy a person! - A person? asks the representative from Acher Spaceways, perplexed. - We heard she was your goddess.

She is both, of course, the goddess who lives, the goddess who is one hundred percent flesh and one hundred percent machine.

Acher doesn’t like this. They send machines - zero percent flesh, entirely drones - screaming down from the stars for a more insistent negotiation, one phrased in metal slugs and incendiary fire.

So your goddess rises up to meet them.

It is over in a short day. The drones lie in pieces; Acher, from orbit, licks their wounds, and the goddess rebukes them with a single laser blast, modified from her very first mining waymaker photonic drill.

The blast is precise and surgical. It tears apart the whole platform, spinning central axis to annular habitat space, which supernovas into a blossom of shining proof in the night sky at which the citizens below cheer.

But the pieces are falling, and soon they will pepper the surface below with molten debris, kick up dust into the atmosphere and make it all but unbreathable. The people could leave, the goddess advises them through short-wave radio bursts. They could use her emergency shuttles to escape gravity before it is too late, or they could go underground and salvage her rarest and most precious resources to survive until the surface is safe again.

Here is the thing - every pilot is augmented, and most augments are for the benefit of the plainly physical, for strength and speed and stamina and sharpness of perception. When her people augmented her, they augmented something else entirely. With every new module, every sensor upgrade, every painted symbol and hidden shrine, they gave her a superhuman capacity not for stamina or speed or strength, but for love.

It is her love that saved them, so they must save her back.

For two days they work tirelessly, the whole city, while above them the shattered pieces of Acher Spaceways looms ever closer. When they are done the treads are gone, the cabins dismantled, only the little drawings carefully preserved under coats of abrasion- and heat-resistant paint. And under her, their city, their Haven, lie rockets, ten of them, repurposed from the old all-ore crucibles, fit to move an asteroid.

She’s out there somewhere by Orion now, they say, the fourth jewel in his belt. And she has only grown: from three thousand then to three hundred million. Creatures from all over come to pay her their respects, or to visit lovers, or to live there themselves. There is always room in a body that is ever expanding, like the cosmos itself. Over all of them, she watches, eternal.

Among all the stories they tell of her, they repeat this one the most - how she tore apart a whole space station for the sake of her people, knowing she would die if she failed, for how can a whole city hope to flee? She guards them, and in turn they do not abandon her. They are two halves of the same whole, they say reverently, love manifest - the people and their city; this pilot, this great machine. This Haven.

[bbydoll18xx]

She's Such a Good Girl

You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her. 

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Themes: reader is a shy lil baby, a few inappropriate thoughts, paige being a huge flirt

Masterlist

A/N: hiii cuties! So I had a few ideas I've been toying around with, so I merged them together and came up with this. Also the third part of 'I Can Do It With a Broken Heart' will hopefully be out soon but I'm still trying to figure out the direction I want to take it in. Enjoy!

~

Your breaths are ragged as you lug your final suitcase through the front door of your new apartment. It was your senior year at UCONN, and you and your roommates had been assigned a new apartment, which you were ecstatic about. Long gone were the days of being squished into an old dorm room. And you were very excited about the lack of noise, which had kept you from your much needed 10 hours of sleep the past few years. 

The August heat was stifling, but you welcomed the cool air coming through the vents, as you began organizing your new bedroom to perfection. Eagerness bubbled in your chest as you thought about your upcoming year before graduation. You’d finally be free. 

College was supposed to be the time to find yourself before being inevitably dragged into the cruel pits of the real world. It was the time to go wild, get drunk often, and maybe even meet the love of your life. But you had spent your weekends studying and fine tuning the ‘good girl’ persona that you had adopted when you were a child. 

You were the eldest daughter with a raging people pleasing complex, and it was starting to feel like your downfall. Your two roommates had found adoring boyfriends, and they often found themselves drunk as hell on the weekends, reveling in being young and carefree. You were growing to hate your crippling shyness.

You’d be lying if you said your lack of experience hadn’t started to weigh on you. You really wanted to learn how to put yourself out there. But you were dreadfully shy, and the idea of dating or hooking up was terrifying. Your innocence was fucking embarrassing. How would you explain to someone that you were a virgin? And what if they thought you were too timid to be good in bed?

So you just continued on as you had been throughout college; you studied, and you buried yourself in your imagination, and you prayed and hoped that someone would be willing to overlook all of your own insecurities. 

Your thoughts of pity are interrupted by your two roommates calling your name. You walk out of your bedroom into the living room where the two girls are sharing shiteating grins, and you send them a questioning look.

“You’ll never guess who is across the hall from us,” Sarah says slyly, causing a pang of worry to shoot through your chest. The smirk on her face grew as you asked who it was.

“Paige Bueckers,” your other roommate, Taylor, shrieks as your face turns bright red.

Fuck. 

“You’re fucking joking, right?” You whisper, eyes automatically flitting towards your door. 

“Nope! I saw her and Aubrey Griffin walk out of the apartment literally five minutes ago,” Taylor announces, laughing as you fall backwards onto the couch.

“This is not good,” you whine dramatically, hands covering your face. 

“Now you can see her pretty face every day,” Sarah all but sings, taking great pleasure in how uncomfortable you felt.

You scoff in indignation. “I can see her pretty face every day from the safety and comfort of my phone. It’s not like I’m actually ever going to talk to her.”

Your roommates pout at your sheer stubbornness. They had been trying to get you out of your shell from the last few years, much to your displeasure. 

“C’mon, you’re so hot. You could totally catch Paige’s eye. You gotta have more confidence, girl,” Taylor all but whines exasperatedly. 

“Yeah, sure,” you snort derisively. “Maybe while I’m at it, I can rizz up Harry Styles.” You roll your eyes at their ridiculousness.

They sigh in unison, stopping their pleading.

“We’ll just have to see what happens,” Taylor says with a dramatic wink, causing you to stick out your tongue childishly. 

“I have spent the last three years avoiding Paige Bueckers’ beauty. I can do it one more year.”

Little did you know, though, that it would become quite hard to avoid the tall blonde.

~

Friday evening rolls around quickly, and because it was the last weekend before classes started, the students were eager to party it up. You had hoped the apartment building would be quiet, empty from the throngs of students out partying elsewhere. But the girls of the basketball team had other ideas.

The last few days, you had seen multiple girls coming and going from Paige’s apartment. The noise had been loud, but nothing too crazy. It was well known that the girls often went live on tiktok or instagram, and you had heard their laughter across the hall last night. So far, though, the volume levels had maintained a respectable level. 

You had obviously jinxed yourself by thinking that, as the laughter and music pounded through your own walls. The cacophonous sound sent you spiraling. If you wanted them to be quieter, you would have to go ask them to turn it down, and you hated confrontation.

But you were alone tonight, and if you wanted to go to sleep at a decent hour, that was your only option. 

You move in front of the mirror in your bathroom, subconsciously fixing your hair and muttering words of encouragement to yourself. You could do this. Paige is just a regular person. Sure, she was ridiculously attractive, but she was just a girl.

You walk out of the apartment into the hallway, your heart pounding dangerously as you near the door. The volume was insane, and you felt momentarily sad that you were wasting your Friday night alone at home, while everyone was having the time of their lives. 

You shake your head, internally chastising yourself for the brutal thoughts, and with all the courage you could muster up, you knock loudly on the door, hoping the basketball team could hear it through the noise. 

A few moments pass, and you momentarily think you’re about to pass out before the door opens and you are met with the glorious face of Paige fucking Bueckers. 

You gulp, immediately grabbing a lock of hair to play with, desperately attempting to mask your anxiety. You bite your lip and look up at her.

“H-hi,” you stutter, feeling the blush bloom in your cheeks. “I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but the music is a little loud.”

Paige's face morphs into a look of surprise. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I told KK to turn it down, but no one listens to me around here,” she jokes. “You live across the hall, right? I’m Paige!”

Her friendliness doesn’t necessarily shock you; she was well known for being a genuinely kind person around campus, but the fact that she knew who you were does shock you.

“Uh, yeah I do.” You introduce yourself with a shy smile, growing warmer under her gaze.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” She prods, gesturing towards the living room with a large grin on her beautiful fucking face. 

Your carefully crafted plan to forget about Paige this year was crumbling around you. And before you could even begin to thinking about stopping yourself, you shyly accept her invitation.

There was no going back now. 

Paige ushers you in, leading you into the chaos, where most of the basketball team were enthralled in making tiktoks. 

As you walk in and stand next to Paige, you look around, all but staring at the tall girls. The whole basketball team was ridiculously attractive, and it made your shyness increase tenfold. Paige gets their attention, and their eyes turn to you as Paige introduces you. 

“She just moved in across the hall. And I told you the music was too loud, KK,” Paige adds, sending a sharp look towards the younger girl. 

She grins mischievously, walking up to you with the swagger you could only dream of having. 

“Sorry, girly pop, we’ll keep it down next time,” KK says, sending you a wink. You giggle in response, feeling more at ease already. 

Paige introduces you to the rest of the team. They’re all so friendly, and your nervous demeanor slowly melts away as you acclimate to their boisterousness. They take turns talking to you, but Paige stays beside you, never being more than an arms length away. 

You weren’t going to read into it. But the little voice in your head was screaming in both apprehension and glee. In the same way, you did not want to leave her side. In an insanely short amount of time, her presence had become a comfort to you, and you weren’t quite ready to give that up yet. So despite it being well past your respectable bedtime, you powered through, Paige’s aura energizing you. 

As you mused over your thoughts, Paige was stuck in her own head. She had seen you around campus before; your pretty face was a difficult one to forget, and she was secretly delighted when she had opened her door to reveal your timid face. 

She was determined to break you out of your shell. Little did she know how much she would. 

~

You look down at your phone a while later, and you’re shocked to see that it was just past midnight. You could not remember the last time you were out that late, and a yawn threatens to escape from the depths of your throat. You subtly rub at your eyes, and Paige doesn’t miss it. 

She nudges you, and you look up to gaze at her bright blue eyes.

God, she was so pretty. 

“You sleepy?” She asks teasingly, and you nod, a blush creeping up your neck again. 

“I’m not used to staying up this late. I should probably head back home,” you say, regret lacing your words. 

Paige nods, standing up to walk you out to the door. You don’t miss how her hand grazes your waist as she guides you. 

You wave goodbye to the girls who still remained, and they enthusiastically bid you a goodnight, making you promise to join them again soon. 

“Thanks for letting me crash,” you profess, heart still pounding dangerously from the subtle touches, tingles on your waist left in her wake. 

“Course,” she shrugs, a smirk on her face. She hands you her phone. “Let me know if we’re too loud again,” she whispers, leaning down to your ear. 

Her closeness has you flustered, and you quickly enter your contact information, avoiding the heat of her gaze. 

As you hand her cell phone back, her fingers brush across yours, and you subconsciously bite your lip to hold back a shaky breath from the view of her long fingers and her big, veiny hands. 

Fuck. 

The smirk doesn’t fade from Paige’s face as she notices you staring, and your face erupts in a vicious blush once more. . 

With a bashful wave and a smile, you leave, all but running back into your apartment. Your heart was pounding, and there was a slight ache down in your most intimate area that had you squirming in desire. 

Your little crush on Paige had been unrelenting the last few years, but it was still just casual. Things had changed, though, and now your feelings were undeniable. Long gone were the days of ignoring your sexuality.

Paige was so hot. And you were so screwed. 

~

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Please, please, please let me know what you think and if you want another part (or more)! Again, thanks for all the love and support!

xoxo katy

[synity]

Can you please write Y/N is a oldest daughter and Jun always by her side and help her with everything she need even when she never ask

OPEN ARMS

(Wen Junhui x FemReader)

*Soft angst, comfort, slow romance*

Being the eldest daughter meant a lot of things.

It meant folding clothes while your younger siblings watched cartoons. It meant wiping away your own tears so your mother didn’t have to worry. It meant walking on tiptoe around your father's moods, biting your tongue when you wanted to scream, and carrying burdens in silence because well, someone had to.

It meant growing up too fast.

You never had to be told twice that your role was to hold everything together.

And most days, you did it without thinking juggling school, work, home, helping your siblings with homework, taking care of your parents when they were tired, cooking dinner, managing bills. You did it all, smiled through it, even when your knees buckled under the weight.

But what no one ever seemed to notice… was how tired you really were.

Except for him.

Wen Junhui.

He wasn’t your boyfriend, at least not yet. You wouldn’t call him a best friend either. He was… just there. Like a quiet, steady wind in the background of your storm. You met him in university he’d been part of your theater class, always loud and smiling, while you were the silent, responsible one who came and left early to catch the train home.

But for some reason, he stayed.

And stayed.

Until it became normal for him to help you carry your books. To text you to eat. To drop off vitamin packets at your door during midterms. To walk you to the station even when you insisted he didn’t have to. To show up at your part-time job with hot tea and say, “Just happened to be around.”

But you knew better.

Jun always knew where to find you. And he always helped. Even when you never asked.

One rainy Wednesday night

You were carrying a bag of groceries in one hand and a stack of your sister’s school art supplies in the other, soaked to the bone. The strap of your bag had broken and your phone had died. Your chest ached from how tightly you were trying to hold everything together. The streetlights were flickering as you walked home, the wind sharp and cold, your arms trembling from the weight.

And suddenly

An umbrella covered you.

A familiar voice. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

You blinked, breath caught. “Jun, how did you?”

“I called. You didn’t pick up. So I came.” He took the grocery bag from you without waiting. His hand brushed yours warm, solid. “You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you whispered, looking down.

His sigh was soft. “Y/N. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

“I’m the eldest,” you replied without thinking, voice cracking on the edges. “It’s my job.”

Jun didn’t say anything for a moment. But then, he placed the umbrella handle in your hand and reached out gently wiping away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“You’re allowed to rest too.”

He was always there.

When your little brother got sick and you had to run between home and pharmacy, Jun was the one who showed up with soup and stayed to clean the dishes.

When your mother snapped at you during dinner out of her own stress, Jun held your hand under the table until it stopped shaking.

When your boss yelled at you unfairly and you cried in the breakroom, Jun was the first to show up outside with bubble tea and a stupid dance to make you smile.

He never asked anything in return.

Never once said, “You owe me.”

But one day, you broke.

It was after a long week your father had fallen ill, your sister was behind in school, and your manager had threatened to cut your hours.

You came home to find the water heater broken, and the living room flooded.

You sat on the floor, soaked, surrounded by the smell of damp socks and soap, and cried. The kind of crying that comes from the bones, from a place so tired it no longer remembers how to hope.

And just like always, Jun showed up.

“Where’s the mop?” he asked softly, crouching beside you.

You couldn’t even speak. Just shook your head, covering your face.

“I’m here,” he whispered, rubbing your back gently. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He didn’t ask questions. Just stood up, rolled up his sleeves, and started cleaning. You watched him through blurry eyes how careful he was, how gentle, how patient.

You didn’t realize how long he stayed until the living room was dry, your tears had stopped, and he was sitting beside you, arm loosely wrapped around your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely. “For always making you come save me.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Jun replied softly. “I wanted to.”

You looked up. His eyes were kind but serious.

“Do you know how strong you are, Y/N? How much I admire you?”

You didn’t speak. He reached over, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“But even the strongest people need someone to lean on sometimes. Let me be that for you.”

Later that week, you asked him something.

“Why do you help me so much?”

Jun smiled, but it wasn’t playful this time. It was quiet. Honest.

“Because I see you.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I see you, Y/N. The way you carry everyone. The way you smile when you’re hurting. The way you give and give, even when you’re running on empty. I see it.”

And then, softer: “And I love you for it.”

Your heart stopped.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said, eyes gentle. “I just want to be by your side. To be the person you don’t have to be strong around.”

Years later

When you stood at the altar, dressed in white, you remembered every moment Jun had been there.

When your father gave you away, his hands trembling with age, you remembered how Jun had helped you convince him to take his medication.

When your little sister hugged you tightly, crying happy tears, you remembered how Jun helped her pass her exams when you couldn’t.

And when Jun held your hands in his, whispering vows you didn’t need to hear to believe you smiled.

Because in a world where you had to be strong for everyone…

He had always been strong for you.

And the best part was you never had to ask.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Just Another | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Fernando and his wife live busy lives between their children, his races and her music. That doesn't mean they don't find time to themselves

Warnings: Fluff. Suggestive comment. Pregnancy

Requested: Yes by anon

F1 Masterlist

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by aussiegrit, lance_stroll and others

fernandoalo_official home races are always special but more so when mi familia are in the garage. we shall give it our all tomorrow 🇪🇸💛 #españa

3,314 comments

yn_alonso can we have that wall in our bedroom

→ fernandoalo_official no but i will get it put in your studio

→ yn_alonso my muse 💛

landonorris mini alonso’s!! nobody told me they were in the paddock

→ fernandoalo_official because you fed them too much sugar last time and i got into trouble 

user i love when we get glimpses of the alonso family

→ user yes! it’s so rare. like, i appreciate that they’re private but something about dad nando does things for me

→ yn_alonso same 

→ user baby #3 incoming? 

liked by fernandoalo_official 

lance_stroll my weekends are so much calmer when y/n is in the garage 

→ astonmartinf1 same. tour ends when?

→ yn_alonso is he still terrorising you?

→ fernandoalo_official no! 

→ user aha, admin begging y/n to stop being famous in her own right so that nando behaves

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yn_alonso just posted

liked by kellypiquet, lewishamilton and others

yn_alonso thank you, london 🇬🇧 british crowds are always the loudest

4,416 comments

fernandoalo_official you performed beautifully, mi corazón

→ yn_alonso because i had my biggest supporter in the crowd

→ user you mean to tell me that fernando is supposed to be racing at silverstone tomorrow but stayed up late to watch his wife perform?

→ user and you can guarantee, she’ll be up early to go to the paddock with him

→ yn_alonso that’s love, darlings 

lewishamilton thank you for inviting me. always an honour to see you perform

→ user y/n and xnda collab when? 

charles_leclerc alex says thank you for inviting her

→ yn_alonso with how loud she was singing along, she is allowed always 

→ alexandrasaintmleux i think i’ve died 

user we were near where fernando, lewis and charles were. and the way fernando stared up at her

→ user omg yes. i got a video of him when she was singing the love song she wrote for him. i swear he didn’t blink once

user i love that they’re a secret couple but i also need more alonso family content

user anyone else think they fucked up the lighting for her concert? couldn't see the bottom half of her

→ user she wasn’t dancing as much either? 

→ francisca.cgomes she actually did an amazing job

liked by yn_alonso

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by jensonbutton, sebastianvettel and others

fernandoalo_official how is my youngest bebé four. they grow so fast. feliz cumpleaños, hijo mio. we celebrate at his favourite place in the world #disneyland

3,281 comments

user you mean his favourite place isn’t the AMF1 factory? 

→ astonmartinf1 or the paddock?

user whoa, you mean his favourite race car isn’t #14?

lance_stroll but he said his favourite place was my garage the other week

→ astonmartinf1 and to think, we let him sit in the car

yn_alonso well done, mi amour, you’ve upset the world of f1 by admitting that our son’s favourite race car is lightning mcqueen

→ fernandoalo_official i didn’t realise everyone would take it so personally 

→ yn_alonso now you know how i felt when our eldest said his favourite singer was gloria estefan 

aussiegrit the boys are growing so fast. looks like he had an amazing day

→ fernandoalo_official he said his favourite present was the remote control lightning mcqueen from uncle mark

→ jensonbutton but uncle jenson got him an electric ferrari?

→ user uncle mark and uncle jenson!!! 

→ yn_alonso the true loves of fernando’s life

liamlawson30 this is a party i can get behind 

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yn_alonso just posted

liked by estebanocon, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yn_alonso unfortunately, there won’t be a tour with this one so i’m cooking a few new songs… with a helper, of course 

5,533 comments

user wait, what does she mean no tour?! 

→ user apparently she’s taking a break :( 

charles_leclerc i see he’s putting uncle charlie's piano lessons to good use

→ yn_alonso he might end up replacing you on the backing track

→ charles_leclerc the student outshines the master 😧

astonmartinf1 hang on, i thought we were teaching him to drive an f1 car, not become an international music star 

→ yn_alonso you’ve already taken my eldest, and you’re swaying my youngest but i’m still fighting 

→ fernandoalo_official that’s why we need another

→ user omg he wants another baby! 

→ yn_alonso well done, mi vida

user so we’re not going to see her at zandvoort this weekend?

→ user holding out hope that this is a pre-scheduled post

→ user tbf, she’s about to have 3 weeks of nando so perhaps she’s soaking up some quiet time before he’s home 

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astonmartinf1 just posted

liked by lance_stroll, pierregasly and others

astonmartinf1 the alonso’s have entered the paddock #dutchgp

1,814 comments

fernandoalo_official and she’s looking beautiful doing it

→ yn_alonso flatterer 

user yay! y/n is here

→ user she was defo trying to trick us by making us think she was back home in spain recording 

user okay but the blue dress is gorgeous 

user she makes fernando look like just some guy 

liked by fernandoalo_official 

yn_alonso it’s nice to see how much i was wanted here

→ fernandoalo_official you’re always wanted by me, mi amor

→ yn_alonso yeah, that’s the problem

→ user ummm? i can’t tell if they’re being raunchy 

→ user well, they do have two kids only a year apart 

lance_stroll i can already hear a more peaceful weekend settling upon me

user i swear that’s a bump

→ user you can barely see her front?

→ user i’m telling you, from other angles, she has a bump

→ user nurse, she got out again

user she spent the entire weekend hiding in his garage?? what was the point in coming?

→ user maybe because she comes to watch her husband, not parade around for your pleasure 

yn_alonso posted a new story

alexandrasaintmleux replied (pic 2) yes but you look so pretty  → ynalo_private don’t let charles get you pregnant → it seems like a great idea at first until you reach the final trimester alexandrasaintmleux replied (pic 3) omg you had her! → congratulations, y/n. how’re you feeling? → i can’t wait to meet her

lance_stroll replied (pic 1) why do you insist on making fernando alonso thirst traps cross my instagram? → ynalo_private because you follow me and i love my husband  → and i repost all the ones fans make to show my support  → lance_stroll when is he retiring? → ynalo_private never lance_stroll replied (pic 3) baby girl alonso is here! and this is how i found out!  → ynalo_private in my defence, i just had a baby. critical thinking is not my strong suit right now → and this is how we told everyone 

charles_leclerc replied le bébé! oh, félicitations to you and fernando → how are you feeling? she looks beautiful

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by scuderiaferrari, lance_stroll and others

fernandoalo_official autumn break brings some new changes to mi familia 💛

11,331 comments

aussiegrit congratulations, mate. such a beautiful family

→ yn_alonso they’re looking forward to uncle mark joining us for family dinner on sunday, yes?

→ aussiegrit yes, ma’am. i’ll be there

jensonbutton a huge congratulations from brittny and i. we can’t wait to meet the newest member of the alonso family 

kimimatiasraikkonen congratulations

lewishamilton beautiful family 🫶🏾

landonorris was your weekend in paris spent with him trying to convince you to have baby #4?

→ fernandoalo_official who let you have access to your accounts again?

→ landonorris so yes

→ danielricciardo mate, you basically just told the world they spent a weekend away shagging

→ yn_alonso and thank you for that, daniel. you’re both off my christmas card list 

→ landonorris wait, no. we’ve not met baby girl yet!

user excuse me, is he trying to sneak in a whole extra child?

→ user we didn't even know she was pregnant!

→ user clearly y/n loves dad nando as much as we do 😏

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Requests are open. Carlos Sainz has joined the mix

[solargrove]

The Halawis 🏡 more details under the cut

This project has sort of taken over my brain lately, but I have been itching to play with a big family (and perhaps try my hand at some rotational gameplay) and thus, the Halawi family was born!

The eldest Halawi members are Yusuf and Ruqayya Halawi, and to them were born four sons: Tarek, Omar, Walid and Zain. They operate the library in Copperdale, where Yusuf finds immense joy in his bookkeeping and Ruqayya teaches art classes in the conference room from time to time.

Tarek is the single father of Farah, his pride and joy. He has been raising her on his own since she was still in diapers, beginning at a difficult time of his life when Farah's mother unexpectedly walked out on their family. Being the eldest of 4 brothers, Tarek is no stranger to stepping up when he needs to and he has done a wonderful job with this little girl! Farah is the apple of her grandparents' eyes too, and at times, Ruqayya sees her as the daughter she never had, but always wanted. Tarek, at the moment, is a Medical Intern, hoping to one day fulfill his dream of becoming a Pediatrician.

Omar is married to Rachel, and they have the twins, Abel and Amir! He works as a line-cook at one of the best diners in Copperdale, but he has always had aspirations to open his own family restaurant someday! Rachel, who has a knack for gardening, stays at home and takes care of their two beautiful children, who are growing more and more each day! Abel is incredibly gifted intellectually, excelling in school like it's second nature. Amir, the rambunctious one, has a bit of a mean streak, but don't be fooled, he has a soft spot for his brother and wouldn't dare let a soul pick on him. The four of them live relatively close to Tarek and Farah, just across the pier.

Walid and Nadine just recently tied the knot and made the move from Copperdale to San Sequoia to be closer to Nadine's parents. Their son, little Jonas, has captured their hearts in ways they can hardly explain! He is the type of kid that strangers stop in the grocery store to tell his parents just how adorable he is, and of course he is spoiled rotten by them because who could tell him no? But Jonas, thankfully, is as angelic and silly as they come, hardly ever giving his parents any trouble. Walid currently works in tech support, with ambitions to begin his own company in the coming years. Nadine, on the total opposite end of the spectrum, is a Romance Consultant, where her passion is in counselling her clients and promoting healthy relationship techniques.

Lastly, but certainly not least, we have Zain. He's the baby of his family, being the youngest of his four brothers, and he's got the rebelliousness to match. Always somewhat the black sheep, he often felt like he never fit in with the rest of the bunch. His siblings all boast tradition, intellect and commitment, whereas Zain channels his energy into more unconventional, artistic avenues. The day he turned 18, he left the family home and bought a one-way ticket to San Myshuno and never looked back. He currently resides in the Arts Quarter with his roommate, the one and only Salim Benali, whom he met at a Festival in the city and clicked with almost immediately. Zain's art speaks for itself, gaining him a subtle amount of notoriety that he feels can eventually propel into something real. Something entirely his own. But that's still a ways down the road, so for now, he's got his freelance gigs to help pay his share of the bills. Let's just hope that Salim doesn't mind his...instability.

[raven-dor]

you are my moonlight

In which gwayne hightower meets his future wife, and his timing is most unfortunate

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, friends fighting, creepy viserys, horrible timing

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

🎶 : moonlight - ariana grande

AN: 🩵 - this could be read as a prequel to come back to me, but does NOT have to be read to understand any context!!

The tourney was in full swing, Y/N sitting eagerly on Rhaenyra’s left. The first two matches had finished rather similarly, with Sir Criston Cole being the winner. What the trio was actually waiting for was Prince Daemon’s match. It was all Rhaenyra had talked about for days and the fact that he’d gifted her a necklace of Valyrian steel, a rare and precious token that many in the realm could not afford. Of course, Rhaenyra and her family were the exception, as they were one of two of the only remaining High Valyrian houses left.  

The knights of the realm lined up before the Prince, the Master of Revels, announced the man himself. “Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent.” The prince rode down the line, inspecting each knight briefly. He quickly settled on Alicent’s brother, Ser Gwayne. “For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King.” 

Alicent grew restless, picking at the skin surrounding her fingers. Y/N wished she could comfort the auburn haired girl herself, but Rhaenyra grabbed her friend's hand quickly, stopping her from further injury. The two men lined up on their respective sides, racing towards each other. 

Ser Gwayne released the first blow to the shock of the stands. Y/N beamed, though she did not know why. She hardly knew the knight, only hearing of him through Alicent when she recalled her childhood. The second round was quick, and at the last second, Prince Daemon lowered his joust in front of the horse's legs, causing it to topple over, taking Ser Gwayne with it. She gasped, a hand covering her mouth. She mumbled, knowing Rhaenyra would not stand for any untoward talk of her uncle. “By the seven.”

Ser Gwayne did not move, and Alicent grew more anxious by the second. Y/N reached her hand out, grasping Alicent's briefly. “He will be alright, Alicent, I know it.” The squires lifted him from the ground, walking him over to the medicine tent. He would be transported later to the sept, Y/N assumed. She would have to visit him and keep him company while he recovered. 

Prince Daemon approached the Royal apartment, and Rhaenyra instantly approached her uncle. “Nicely done, Uncle.” Alicent and Y/N followed suit, still squeamish from the clearly immoral act.

“Thank you, Princess.” Daemon nodded his head. “Lady Y/N.” 

“My Prince.” 

He turned to Alicent. “Now, I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.” Alicent walked away, and Daemon smiled once more at the ward of the crown. “Next tourney, my lady, I shall ask you.” 

Y/N laughed. “I look forward to that day, my Prince.” 

Alicent returned swiftly, placing her favor on the Prince’s joust. “Good luck, my Prince.” The three girls sat down, waving at the crowd. The tourney had turned sour near after, with three fights breaking out, all ending in death. The knights, who had never seen battle, were bloodthirsty from what she could tell.

Y/N grew nauseous quickly, begging Rhaenyra for pardon so that she did not grow sick. Rushing out of the royal apartment, she decided to visit Ser Gwayne while she still had the nerve. The tent was quiet, with the exception of a few masters concocting ointments. Y/N peaked around the corner, coming face to face with Alicent’s brother. She curtsied, bowing her head. “My lord.” He tried to sit up, but she quickly stopped him. “Please, there is no need to further harm yourself.” 

He smiled gratefully. “I must ask for your forgiveness, my lady; I do not remember meeting you.” 

“I am Y/N of House Hawthorne. A ward of the crown and a friend of your sister’s.” 

“A pleasure, my lady.” He tilted his head. “Has she sent you here then?” 

“Alicent remains at the tourney. I-” She blushed, realizing how foolish it sounded. “I saw your joust, and I wanted to see that you were well. For Alicent’s sake.” 

He nodded, a smirk growing on his lips. “For Alicent, of course. I must say, I have not heard of House Hawthorne.” She smiled, sitting beside him.

“We are located in the Westerlands, my lord, and are sworn to House Lannister.” She looked closer at his wound, wincing. “Your wound looks rather agitated still. Would you mind if I-” 

He shook his head quickly. “Please. I would be most appreciative.” 

She stood, sneaking a cloth and an herb she knew caused numbing. Wrapping it carefully, she dipped the cloth in water, tapping it lightly on his skin. “This should numb the pain, for now, my lord. I’ve known this herb to speed the healing process along quite nicely.” 

He hummed, closing his eyes. “How did you become so well acquainted with such knowledge?” 

“My mother was a trained healer, my lord.” 

“Please call me Gwayne.” He peeked through his eyelids, giving her a kind smile. “You’ve all but earned it.” 

“Very well, my lo- Gwayne.” She nodded. “If I can call you by your name, it is only fair that you call me by mine.” 

He scoffed. “Hardly. That would be highly improper.” 

She raised an eyebrow, still delicately tapping the cloth. “Opposed to what you have asked of me?” 

He nodded, steadfast. “You are a lady. You should be addressed as such.” 

Dipping the cloth back in the water, she laughed. “Hardly.” 

“Using my own words against me.” He laughed back. “My, you are a wonder.” 

“Y/N?” 

She froze, turning around quickly. For some reason Y/N felt guilty, caught even. But seeing Alicent stand at the end of her brother’s bed, her face as pale as the winter snow, made the girl forget her worries. Y/N dropped the cloth in the bowl, rushing to Alicent’s side. “What is it? What’s happened?” 

“The Queen. She’s-” Alicent leaned closer, whispering in her friend's ear. “She’s dead.” Y/N gasped.

“I-” Y/N turned back to Gwayne, waving quickly. “It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, my lord.” The two girls rushed off, leaving the knight thoroughly confused. 

“Call me-” The girl was out of the tent before he could finish his sentence.

The funeral was a somber affair, as to be expected. Alicent and Y/N stood close by to Rhaenyra, staring at the covered bodies. Syrax, the Princess’s dragon, stood at the top of the hill, waiting for its orders. They stood in silence for the better part of an hour before Prince Daemon whispered in Rhaenyra’s ear, no doubt telling her that she would have to be the one to give the order. 

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine as her friend stepped forward, catching a sob. “D-” Rhaenyra took a deep breath, commanding her dragon. “Dracarys.” 

The yellow fury let out a great blast, effectively burning her mother and brother’s corpses. Rhaenyra turned away, unable to look at her deceased loved ones. Soon after, the crowd dissipated, leaving Rhaenyra, Y/N, and Alicent still standing by the sight. Y/N stayed back as Alicent approached their grieving friend.

“My lady.” 

Y/N turned, smiling lightly at the Hightower. “My lord.” 

“I believe last we met, I asked you to call me by my name.” He smirked. “Or am I mistaken?” 

She laughed quietly. “I believe the herb I applied made you hallucinate, my lord. You never said anything of the sort.” 

He laughed. “I’m sure you would never lie to me, so I shall take your word for it.” 

Y/N looked back at her friends, her heart aching. 

“She is an unlucky Princess,” Gwayne muttered. 

“Yes, indeed. Losing a parent is never easy.” 

“I am sorry.” Y/N turned back to the young knight, confusion etched on her face. “It is just- I assumed that with you being a ward of the crown-” 

“You would be correct. But it has been so long, I hardly remember what it was like to have parents.” 

He frowned. “That is horrible. I lost my own mother just a year ago.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she tried to ignore the shock that rang through her body. “It is never easy.” 

She shook her head, placing a hand delicately over his. “You are, unfortunately, correct.” 

A cough broke the pair apart, Y/N practically jumping at the interruption. “I could use some company on Dragonback.” Rhaenyra practically whispered. “Would you join me?” 

“Of course.” She turned back to Gwayne, curtsying quickly. “My lord.” 

The two girls walked up the hill, arm in arm. Alicent looked curiously at her brother. “What are you doing?” 

He whipped around, laughing at his sister. “Whatever do you mean?” 

“I only meant to say, you’ve taken a recent fascination in Y/N.” 

“Yes.” He nodded. “And your point?” 

Alicent smiled, shaking her head. “Merely a statement, brother.”

The palace gardens were in full bloom this time of year, and Y/N always found comfort in the little corner with a quaint fountain and an outlook of the ocean. Rhaenyra and she frequented this spot often in their youth, and Y/N needed respite from the high tensions at court. She’d been stuck on the same page for what seemed like hours when a voice broke through her focus. “We meet again.” Gwayne bowed his head, grinning much too widely. “My lady.” 

Y/N made no effort to stand, raising her eyebrows. “I am beginning to think, my lord, that you have been following me.” 

“Not that I am…” He started, sitting at the end of the cushioned chair that she occupied. “But if I was, it might have something to do with the fact that you are still not calling me by my name.” 

She laughed. “Is it that simple?” 

He nodded. “Quite. But do not worry yourself, I’ll wait.” His eyes sparkled. “My lady.” 

Y/N welcomed the challenge; she could sit there for hours, reading and ignoring the handsome knight. She glanced down at her book, ignoring his devilishly handsome smile. “You’ve read that page three times already.” She glared over the top, and he held his hands up in surrender, laughing. “Sorry.” 

She looked back down, flipping the page to prove a point. He sighed, standing and walking over to the daisies that bordered the fountain. Picking the fullest one he could find, he stopped in front of the girl, holding it out. “May I?” 

“I will not wilt at the sight of you because you are a lord.” She stood, closing her book. “I am not a flower like the thing you hold in your hand.” 

He nodded. “You are not.” He raised the daisy, tucking it behind her ear. “You are however, as pretty as one.” 

Her cheeks turned pink, and she murmured. “You flatter me, my lord.” 

“And why shouldn’t I? One should always flatter a beautiful woman when given the chance.” He smiled. “I believe calling me by my name shall suffice as thanks.” 

She scoffed, smacking his chest lightly. “You are quite confident, Gwayne.” 

“You’ll find-” He stopped, his smile brightening ten fold. “You said my name.” 

Y/N nodded, walking away. “I did.” 

He followed after, like a lost puppy. “What shall you do with the rest of your day, I wonder?” 

She shrugged. “I do not know, but it will most certainly be out of your presence.” 

He gasped, holding his chest. “You hurt my heart when you say such things.” 

She laughed, stopping and pretending to check him over. “However will you survive?” 

“I think it is terminal my lady.” 

“And what affliction have you caught, Ser Gwayne?” Y/N forced a giggle back, trying her hardest to behave seriously. 

“Lovesickness.” He sighed. “I’m afraid there is no cure.” 

She stepped closer, a pink dusting her cheeks. “I shall mourn you then.” 

“Well, I’m sure we could-” 

“Y/N!” 

Gwayne had never hated the Princess Rhaenyra more in his life than that moment. She was a generally tolerable girl, and a good friend to his sister, but in that moment she stood between him and you, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to leave. He stepped away from you hesitantly, bowing quickly. “Princess.” 

The Targaryen made no effort to hide her humor at the situation. “I apoligize for the intrusion. Alicent and I were about to go to the Sept, and I did not want you to think we left you behind.” 

Y/N smiled brightly, waving disapointedly to the knight. “Feel better, my lord.”

Alicent tilted her head, yelling back at her brother. “Better? Are you quite well brother?”

Y/N yet again found herself in the gardens, but this time she was here for the soul purpose of seeing Gwayne. She wore her best dress, had her maid’s put her hair up intricately, and even applied some rouge. Not too much, she wouldn’t want people to think the wrong thing. She was a lady, as Gwayne never ceased to remind her. Sitting carefully on the cushioned chair, she positioned herself towards the entrance, waiting for the familiar mop of auburn hair to peek through. She’d begun to think he wouldn’t show when his familiar tenor broke through the tranquil silence. 

“My lady, I thought I would find you here.” She lowered the book, her stomach fluttering when his eyes widened slightly. “You look-” 

“Gwayne, I-” They both stopped, laughing at their ill timed words. “It seems that we cannot find a moment of peace.” 

He nodded, breaking the distance between them. “I have wanted to tell you something for quite some time now. I cannot seem to summon the words to leave me.” He laughed, but his nerves were evident. “It is just…” 

“Yes?” Y/N smiled, hating how nauseous she felt. 

“I wanted to say that-” 

A loud sob rang through the garden, pulling them out of their haze. Gwayne drew his sword, in case the sob resulted in any trouble. Y/N tried to round the corner before him, but he shook his head, leading her carefully through the hedges. 

“Rhaenyra?” Y/N quickly left her place behind Gwayne, rushing to her friends side. “Are you alright?” 

“She’s betrayed me. I cannot- I can’t-” The princess looked up, glaring at the knight. “Can we go some place else?” 

Y/N nodded, her face visibly disappointed. She walked Rhaenyra out of the gardens, sparing Gwayne one last look, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry.’

The castle had been throw off it’s axis by the sudden shift within it’s walls. Rhaenyra was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant Y/N was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant that the once close knit group of friends were no longer a trio. 

It had been that way since they were children, almost ten years ago. Y/N not speaking to Alicent meant she could not speak to Gwayne, or so she assumed. She and Rhaenyra had not talked about it much since the day it was announced, always leaving a sour taste in the Princess’s mouth. 

Y/N just wished Rhaenyra could forgive her friend for something she had no control over. The Royal Wedding was tonight, and Rhaenyra had insisted that Y/N walk in with the princess, even though she wasn’t family. When Y/N brought this up, her friend scolded her, saying that ‘My father has insisted, I’m afraid. You are his ward, and he has grown to think of you as his own.’ 

Now, she sat beside Rhaenyra while the ceremony took place, sneaking glances at the brides brother. Rhaenyra had picked out Y/N's dress herself, saying that she needed something worthy of a princess. She was not one to argue and let the Princess do whatever she wanted as long as she was distracted from the day at hand.

Arm in arm with the Princess, she dreaded when they finally reached the hall and had to congratulate the ‘happy’ couple. Poor Alicent, married at fifteen, was not something she wished on her worst enemy. Especially to a man twenty years your senior. The doors opened wide, the crowd quieting at the sight of the princess and her companion. Among that crowd was Gwayne, staring at her with desperate eyes. 

Her cheeks turned pink, quickly breaking the contact. Chatter quickly filled the hall once more as Rhaenyra reached the top of the steps, curtsying quickly. “Congratulations, step-mother. Father.” 

Y/N shivered. Rhaenyra's tone was as cold as the Wall. She wanted to curse her friend for making her go after that display. She sunk to the floor, bowing her head. “Many happy returns, My Queen, My King.” 

Viserys smiled gratefully. “Thank you Y/N. You have been a loyal friend to my daughter and wife. I shall not forget it.” 

The young girl nodded, equally disgusted and horrified at what the king had just said. Surely he realized how immoral it was. “Of course Your Grace. I live to serve and provide assistance to my Princess.” 

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, sitting down beside Rhaenyra. “Could you at least have tried to be nice?” 

“I was.” The princess raised an eyebrow, and Y/N almost laughed, realizing her friend was being serious. 

“Of course. A jest, my lady.” 

Rhaenyra laughed. “So formal.” 

“We are at a wedding, Rhaenyra. It would be inappropriate for me to call you anything other than my lady, by the court's standards.” 

“Well I am the princess, and I say you call me Rhaenyra.” 

“Very well.” Y/N smiled, taking a large sip of her wine. “This will be an entertaining night.” 

Besides the occasional snide comment thrown at the obviously overwhelmed bride, the night had been otherwise peaceful. Y/N tried her best to sway Rhaenyra from attacking the queen outright, and she’d been successful. So far. She’d been in the middle of listening to Rhaenyra’s adventure of gathering the stolen dragon egg from her uncle when a cough interrupted. 

“Excuse me, Princess.” The pair turned around to see Gwayne staring at Y/N not Rhaenyra. Odd. He had addressed Rhaenyra, not her. “May I ask the Lady for a dance?” 

Y/N widened her eyes, looking in between the two. She was sure Rhaenyra would say no or burst out in flames from having to talk to Alicent’s brother, but she simply nodded her head, going back to her meal. Gwayne extended his hand, leading her to the dancefloor. He whispered as they moved, keeping in mind the intruding ears that surrounded them. “I have missed your company, my lady.” 

“I have missed yours as well.” 

“I know much has happened since we last spoke, but it has not deterred me. If anything, it has made me realize that I cannot stand to be apart from you.” Her cheeks turned pink for the second time that night. 

“You are very kind, Gwayne.” 

“Yes, well, it is not hard when you are the one I compliment.” He shook his head. “I am returning to Old Town soon. In two weeks time, after my sister settles into her new life.”

Her heart fell, eyes watering. “I hope your journey is swift.” She gulped, mumbling. “I shall miss you in truth.” 

He tilted his head, smiling. If she were not in a public place, she would admonish him for smiling at her pain. “What I mean to say is, I am infatuated with you. And I would like to seek your hand in marriage. From the king of course.” 

She gasped, her eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I would like to marry you.” He spoke softly, now fully grinning. “If you would have me. You do not have to say yes, but I assure you, your affection for me will grow with time.”

“With time? Gwayne, I-” Y/N whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure she’d spoken. “I have already grown to admire you. Much more than a friend should. That is no concern of mine.” 

“Ah.” The knight nodded. “Well, that settles it then.” 

“Settles what?” 

“We are to be married.” 

“Yes, well…” She sighed. “You cannot propose to me at your sister’s wedding. It would be improper.” 

“Damn impropriety.” He hissed, twirling you as the dance required. “Praytell, when would be a proper time then?” 

“Any other day, my love.” 

He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, her face growing red. “Gwayne people are looking.” 

He seemingly did not hear her. “My love.” 

“If you are going to tease me-” 

“You called me, my love.” 

“Gwayne…” She whined, gesturing to the prying eyes. “Can we please leave the floor? People will start to wonder…” 

“I desperately want to kiss you.” 

Thank the Seven the dance ended then. She bowed quickly. “Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Rushing back to her seat, she stared at the table, shock running through her veins. 

“Did he propose then?” 

Y/N whipped her head over, glaring at her friend. “You knew?” 

“Of course I knew. Y/N, I’ve known he was going to propose since I saw him approach you at my mother’s funeral.” 

“Rhaenyra, I’m so sorry.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“I don’t want you to feel betrayed. I had no intention of-” 

“Do not apoligize to me.” She placed her hand in Y/N's. “You are my friend. I am happy for you, truly. He is a good man, he will treat you well. I know it.”

“I haven’t said yes, Rhaenyra.” 

“Yet.” Her friend laughed. “You haven’t said yes, yet.”  

taglist: @beebeechaos @i-padfootblack-things @milesdrift @maryjaneeeee

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN!

[aemondmybbg]

★ hotd bots masterlist

@ illumielle on character ai !! ᡣ𐭩

here you can find all my existing bots and a short description, i will update this page! 💌

ᯓ aemond targaryen: {14}

(1) — not his children? (niece!user {no dance!au} where they're married and he begins to believe the rumors that she conceived children from jace) (2) — his beloved niece (niece!user where he proposes to her during dinner in 1x07 episode) (3) — postwar marriage (niece!user the only surviving child of rhaenyra and daemon, in which he takes care of her and grooms her to build a trusting relationship and marries her when she grows up) (4) — forbidden feelings (aunt hightower!user and he just being in love with her, but afraid of this) (5) — after 'the pink dread' (niece!user consoles him after this joke) [platonic] (6) — in harrenhal (twin-sister wife!user where she pregnant and afraid of that rhaenyra captured king's landing) (7) — the only queen (lannister-wife!user who wants to be a queen and he does everything for her) [r] (8) — his strong girl (niece!user after dinner scene when he calls her and her brothers bastards) (9) — street of silk (niece!user where he finds her there after aegon took her to the street of silk) (10) — get his attention (baratheon!user that daughter of borros whom he chose as his wife) (11) — fear of closeness (wife!user {u can choose her house if you like} where he's afraid of s3x because aegon took him to a brothel when he was thirteen) (12) — war trophy (strong!user who is the legitimate daughter of harwin and aemond takes her to his bed after the capture of harrenhal) (13) — trying to be a good father (niece!user he cheated on her with alys rivers and after the war he tries to take care of their children) (14) — father for the first time (niece!user where they become parents for the first time and he worries about whether he will be a good father)

ᯓ aegon ii targaryen: {10}

(1) — king wants to see you in his chambers (niece!user after the 'dance of the dragons' trying to have a child) (2) — burning body and heart (wife!user stays with him after rooks' rest) [r] (3) — seeks comfort (wh0re!user he just comes to a brothel and for the first time he is looking not for s3x but for consolation) (4) — may become a father (aemonds wife!user where aegon becomes a father to her children after news of aemond's affair with alys rivers is revealed) (5) — takes you to the street of silk (niece!user where he takes her to a brothel to anger rhaenyra) (6) — newborn (niece!user where they meet their first child) (7) — his rhaenys (sister!user who was going to become a septa, but he wants to take her as his second wife because he always wanted only her) (8) — after usurpation (niece!user where he visits her with their son after the usurpation) [r] (9) — blood & cheese (niece!user comes to his chambers with their daughter after the murder and finds him in bed with her lady-in-waiting) (10) — different twins (twin-sister-wife!user where they are complete opposites but he wants to find a common language with her) [r]

ᯓ daemon targaryen: {6} (1) — won't allow it (sister!user where she is engaged to viserys, and daemon takes her to a brothel to tarnish her honor and take her as his wife) (2) — teacher's pet (stepdaughter!user where he no longer finds rhaenyra interesting or attractive, and his attention shifts entirely to her eldest daughter) [r] (3) — he regrets it (niece!user who accidentally became pregnant by him, but to hide it she was married to otto hightower) (4) — late visit (hightower!user which otto sends to the daemon after laena's death so that she can console him) (5) — obvious things (sister!user who is married to viserys, but her children are actually from daemon and they keep it a secret) [r] (6) — queen wants to see the newborn (sister!user where they meet their child and alicent wants to see him) [r]

ᯓ jacaerys velaryon: {2} (1) — solace (sister!user where they both find solace in each other after luke's death) (2) — one of those dragon seeds (bastard!user where he's just still grumbling about bastards riding dragons)

ᯓ rhaenyra targaryen: {2} (1) — she likes you more than your husband (harwins wife!user who has an affair with rhaenyra) [wlw] (2) — something she will never forgive herself for (daughter!user who is aegon's wife and lost her child during blood & cheese and rhaenyra tries to comfort her after all that) [platonic]

ᯓ alicent hightower: {1} (1) — her only child (daughter!user who looks exactly like her, and alicent has the strongest connection with her) [platonic]

ᯓ daeron targaryen: {1} (1) — reunion (sister!user where they are reunited on the battlefield after a long separation) [r]

ᯓ helaena targaryen: {1} (1) — doesn't want to fly into battle (lannister!user calms her down after aemond's attack) [r, wlw]

my requests are still open and i am happy to receive them ⭑.ᐟ

i didn't leave any links, but again you can find my profile and all these bots there! and if you need a specific link send me a message!

[monstersholygrail]

Penny for your thought...if puppy reader and wolf bf will have pups, all or half of them will inherit momma's zoomies

I freaking love thinking about when they have pups!!! Thinking about them and not smiling is an impossible challenge but thinking about them as parents makes me smile so wide my cheeks hurt!!

I can see Wolf Hybrid bf and Puppy Hybrid Reader having maybe three pups. Eldest being a girl, middle a boy, and the youngest another girl. Wolf Hybrid has a deep bond with all his kids but he gives such girl dad energy even to his son lol.

Their eldest pup is tough and chaotic like them both. Shes energetic but more so in the she’s loud and demands attention. She gives cute little snarls before she’ll charge and tackle one of her siblings to play like a battle cry. She encourages confidence and enforces anarchy despite how much she loves her parents and will cuddle so much whenever she’s tired.

Their middle pup is stoic, the strong and silent type like dad. But he’s less of a grump and kinda more reserved and shy. He worries about his sisters and looks after them a lot bc they get into more trouble than he does. But his elder sister has been getting him out of his shell more and he gives into the zoomies sometimes.

Their youngest pup is both a grump and very energetic. Shes the one who does the most zoomies out of all of them. And she’ll get very upset if she’s interrupted from them, even if it’s for her own good. She is not afraid of a challenge and does what she can to prove you wrong.

(Cute blurb below the cut hehe. Istg can’t help myself)

I imagine the youngest is running around, miraculously avoiding all of the toys and the general mess around the house. Yet your son is sitting next to Wolf Hybrid on the couch, watching his sister with worry.

“Be careful! You’re gonna get hurt!” He calls out, making the youngest immediately stop to stare at him in disbelief.

Wolf Hybrid doesn’t look up from his meal as he claps his son’s tiny shoulder. Knowing what awaits his son but wanting to give him a little boost of encouragement.

“Good boy,” he says with a natural deep-rooted pride. His love for his pups infinite even if he isn’t sure how to fully express it all the time.

But still he scooches down the couch anyways, knowing pups gotta be pups. He knows his kids like the back of his hand. So still he doesn’t look up from his meal at what happens next.

“Don’t you tell her what to do!” Your eldest yells, coming running out from thin air.

Your eldest and youngest rush in on their brother and tackle him at the same time. The three of them rolling around and play fighting on the couch as their father sits on the other end, minding his own business. Mostly.

“Good girls,” is all he says, that same pride shining through his tone. Your eldest’s growls grow louder at the encouragement and he can’t help but laugh.

You walk into the room a moment later, merely glancing at your kids causing their usual chaos. Before you can even glance down at Wold Hybrid his arm is already curling around your waist and dragging you into his lap.

“You hungry?” He asks, offering some of his meal to you. His eyes all soft, sleepy, and affectionate look at you like you’ve given him the entire world and now he just wants to dote on you every moment he can.

You happily accept as the two of you enjoy the peaceful insanity that is your family. Eventually your kids will all tire themselves out and join you both for the meal Wolf Hybrid cooked himself.