#something something about how. when we are little kids parents are often for better or worse larger than life and something we orbit around

[pyreshe]

I thought about vincent and "bigger than the whole sky" and tbh taylor swi.ft has made an enemy of me for fucking life how dare she.

[narcjsistx]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | sae, kaiser, rin, reo and isagi

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: domestic shit because I love fluff stuff 🌷 the characters chosen seem to me to be the most "visible" with little girls... so yeah. I'm actually not very sure of the result, maybe I'll delete it sooner or later to do it again

— sae itoshi

If there was one thing Sae had understood since becoming a parent, it was that having two children was complicated. On one hand he was now understanding all of his mother's concerns when, as children, Rin was unmanageable

We know however that males, if brothers, are somehow a little more manageable. Females, if sisters, are not. He was the father of two girls

As much as he loved them, he agreed with you when you said it would have been better to wait a few more years. But then he looks at his girls in the face, he regrets even thinking about it a little, because he loves them too much

In his eyes he sees him and Rin when they were kids: Sayami, the eldest, looks awfully like him because of her reddish hair, but in character she is like you. Semika, the youngest, is different from him in appearance but identical in character. Sayami brings out Semika's very hidden, but existing, sociable side. The only trait that makes girls similar are those damned undereyelashes that have marked the Itoshi family for generations

“Love, when are you going to let them go?”

"No."

"Sae, we've already talked about this..."

"I said no"

"Sae."

"I already said no, Y/n.”

"Y'know, they're already 7 years old. Sooner or later it will happen..."

"Not as long as I'm alive"

...a simple child had asked Sayami if she and her sister wanted to go play with him. Sae took their hand and walked out of the park as fast as he could with his treasures

✶ Sae tries hard to talk with her little girls. In a relationship not talking, or in any case having some communication problems, can be understood... with little girls no, because they would take it as a rejection. He ALWAYS goes out of his way to talk to them as much as possible, also because he loves the moments when they come home from school and, together, they chat about what happened during the day

✶ Let's be honest, Sae doesn't have much other knowledge or passions apart soccer, which was probably imposed on him as a child. He has not the slightest intention of making any of his girls leave school: if like him they end up having to change country to follow a sport, Sae will have to be absolutely sure that they are studying at the same time. He doesn't want them to be like him, because he knows how difficult is that life

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: resting with them. Sae is often busy with his career, training and of course with his beautiful wife, but he always tries to make time in the evenings (if he's not out of town for a match) with his daughters. He likes to lie down on the bed or on the sofa, before dinner, with the girls who tell him everything exciting they did that day

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: he hides it well but LOVES when you come to watch him play. If he is normally a prodigy, in front of his daughters he must seem even better. When he scores a goal the first thing he would do is turn towards you, no celebration because it's not his style, but he would wave to his daughters who are cheering for him from the stands. Once the game is over he would ignore the interviewers, as he normally does, and simply come to you to claim his victory kiss

— kaiser micheal

Having children, whether boys or girls, was NOT in Michael's plan. I mean, how can someone who had such a complicated childhood have children? Even if he hides it, he has an enormous fear of being able to make someone of his own blood suffer, voluntarily or not, what he has experienced. He just knows that if something has to happen, it happens. And he doesn't know what fate has in store for his possible heir. He might hate his kid and disown him or her like his parents, if they can be called in that way, did with him

When he found out that he was going to become a father, and with a daughter, he seriously thought for a few moments about simply walking away. Not that he hated you, he couldn't, but it was really strange for him to think that someone of his own blood, his kid, was about to born

Kaiser can't explain how all the worries he had collapsed the moment he held Anneliese, his daughter, in his arms for the first time. Just by seeing and hearing her, he wondered how he could even remotely think that he could hypothetically hurt such a wonderful being

Anneliese quickly became the center of Kaiser's world, along of course with the beautiful mother of his little girl. It can be said that his daughter is a shameless copy of him, both in appearance and character: long, blonde hair, proud and always challenging temperament. One might doubt that she is your daughter but not that she is not Kaiser's. She is liteeerally him

...Sitting on the sofa, Anneliese is watching one of her father's old match. The assist with a teammate ends badly, but the ball returns to Kaiser's possession again and he scores a goal

“Dad, the next time you pass the ball to someone unworthy, I will be even more angry than I am now!”

"I understand, don't worry. I can't make my little girl angry again, can I?"

"Mihya, on the field you have to do what you feel, don't listen to her..."

"How can I not listen to our little girl, Schatz?"

✶ Kaiser loves to take his daughter with him everywhere: whether it's to an interview, to training or to a match, Anneliese is almost certainly with him or next to you. He loves when you and your little girl cheer for him during a match, even more if he knows that if he scores there will be your lips kissing him and the little girl's little arms hugging him. He shows a lot his family and his being a fantastic father (you tell him too, he's a little insecure about this) in front of his teammates. The emperor's family!

✶ Ness is practically the little girl's uncle. He never stopped idolizing Micheal, even more so when he discovered that now there was no longer just one Kaiser but two. Micheal is slightly jealous, he doesn't like that his daughter spends so much time with Ness... he hates seeing his Anneliese so happy with an adult other than him or her mother

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he loves when his daughter plays with his hair, especially with the blue parts. Seeing the cerulean blue on his little girl's pale hands, as she braids it or whatever it is, makes him tender. He once dreamed of Anneliese with the exact same hair as him and he admits he wouldn't mind seeing her that way. Maybe blue tipped hair could be the Kaiser's new trademark

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: whenever you and Anneliese come to a game, the first thing he makes sure to do is that you have a seat in the VIP section. He loves seeing the stadium celebrate for him because his family is there to see him, it's something that feeds his ego. As soon as the match was over he would have you go down onto the field with him, the little girl in his arm and his other arm around your waist as he holds you close to him

— rin itoshi

In his mind Rin, the few times he imagined himself, he always saw himself as the father of a son, and nothing more. Not brothers, as much as he actually liked the idea, just a child and above all a boy. He would have been happy like that

As much as he liked the idea of ​​a possible second child, with his job he wouldn't be able to dedicate the time he knows children deserve. At the same time he doesn't want to leave all the work to you, because parenting is something that is usually done by two. One child would have been enough

He doesn't know how but at a certain point in his life, he found himself with three daughters, all of whom were no more than two years apart. At first it was just a child, your beautiful Ayaka, then suddenly Homura also appeared and finally Rika

The idea of ​​just one boy dematerialized pretty quickly. But he loves his girls so much that, when sometimes he thinks of his original idea, he curses himself: how could he deprive himself of the presence and love of his girls?

All the girls resemble him tremendously, both in character (the one before the incident with Sae) and in appearance, obviously talking about the undereyelashes signed 'Itoshi'. Ayaka, only, is the female version of her father. Homura and Rika have taken something from their mother, but Ayaka could almost resemble Sae too... well, he is her uncle after all, right?

"Dad, Rika doesn't pass the ball when she plays!"

"You can't handle it either, Homura! You can't even pass me games at home!"

"Girls, calm down"

"Learn to score on goal first, before complaining"

...The situation seemed to be calm under Rin's control, but Ayaka broke the calm by scoring a perfect goal into the net of the private home soccer field. New prodigy?

✶ Rin often thinks about what might happen if, in the future, he ever does something that could divide her daughters. He has no preference between them, but he is always terrified that he might do something wrong that could create inequalities that he doesn't want, because in a certain sense, what happened between him and Sae must not happen in another generation of the Itoshi. He bond and love between his daughters must exist forever, not deteriorate as happened with his Nii Chan

✶ He would try to get his daughters to try as many sports as possible. As much as Rin loves soccer, his choice was influenced by the fact that Sae played it... what if he was now a world champion in, idk, volleyball? NO OKAY. He simply likes to make all 3 try new things, looking for something that maybe they could dedicate themselves with passion

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: when his little girls organize themselves to do makeup on him. He's got a pretty mysterious look to maintain, but if Homura has decided that he's going to show up at practice tomorrow wearing orange nail polish, he'll show up that way. Not that he has any problem fighting anyone who has something to say against him, but no one dares. Rin loves to see them concentrate while putting on mascara or a completely disgusting shade of lipstick

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: if he knows that you are there to see him play, he will do everything to score as many goals as possible and, above all, quickly: he wants to keep his girls' expectations high. Once he scored a goal he would raise his hand to the sky, waiting for his girls to do the same thing because it has now become a gesture that only each other understands. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is go up to the stands to be with you, fuck his lukewarm teammates

— reo mikage

Looking after Nagi was like taking a pre parenting course. Nagi essentially has the needs of a child if you ignore the fact that he is 17 years old and 1.90cm tall, so Reo knows quite well what a child needs. Then, he always saw the maids in his house bring their young children to work when possible: Reo loved playing with them or picking them up, or just generally spending time with them. The idea of ​​having children, sooner or later and with a special person, has actually always interested him. He always said to himself, but in reality he hoped, that he would find the person who would love him for simply being Reo and not for his money... and then you came along!

His idea has always been of only one child because he is afraid that, sooner or later, two possible children could fight over the money of the Mikage company. Everything is unpredictable, right? So he doesn't want to risk anything

His original idea was respected. When he held Hikari for the first time he simply understood that he wouldn't be able to create, obviously with you, such a cute and perfect being again

The only similarity that links Hikari to her father is the same hair color, that strong purple. For the rest she is completely her mother, and Reo loves this even more: it's cute to see a mini version of you, but with some of his features, walking around the house. His new sweet treasure!!

"So, this... this, yes, also this... that... this"

"Reo, honey, what are you doing with that newspaper?"

"Nothing dangerous. Don't worry"

"What are you doing though? You make me curious"

"I told you not to worry, honey. Trust me."

...Reo was marking all the objects, approximately 300, in a catalog of toys and children's products. If he has money, why can't he spend it if he knows it will make his daughter happy?

✶ The first person Reo told that he was going to be a father was obviously Nagi. Let's say that at first Seishiro wasn't really believing it, but when he saw that pregnancy test... oh... yes, he definitely believed it. It often happens that Hikari stays with Nagi for days at a time, as the little girl sees him as a giant she can annoy. Reo often tells his daughter not to bother Nagi too much, but it secretly makes him laugh to see Seishiro so awkward with Hikari because he doesn't know how to handle children (himself??)

✶ If there's one thing he would never do, it would be to push Hikari into running the Mikage company once she grows up. Reo hated living his childhood with the knowledge that he already had a predetermined destiny, and he doesn't want Hikari to have the same treatment. She want to become a doctor? It will become one. She want to become a farmer? It will become one. She want to become president of the world? It will become one. He simply wants her to do what she loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: travel the world with his daughter or of course with you too. The money is there, and what better way is there to spend it than learning and traveling? Hikari, at less than 5 years old, had already visited half the world. Reo loves taking her to different places and seeing her reactions so amazed. His favorite will remain forever when they arrived in New York, where Hikari didn't stop smiling for a second

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: it is obvious to say that he would pay to let you have the VIP of the VIP, his girls deserve the best, right?. He would feel amazing among all his teammates knowing that his family is there for him while there is no one for them. At the end of the game he would let the cameras record him hugging you and Hikari, why would he hide all the love he has for you from the cameras?

— isagi yoichi

Isagi was relatively happy as a child: his parents loved him, he played the sport he loved, he didn't do badly at school. Everything was happy for him in his early life. The only thing he often noticed were his classmates with older or younger siblings, who yeah argued with each other, but at the same time loved each other very much. He didn't suffer from loneliness from being the only child, not that, but he was always intrigued by the concept of not being the only child in the family

Since you've been dating seriously, and even before actually, he's always thought that his future family would model what he had: loving parents, one child, two if they had the chance

When Fujiko was born there was this plan in his mind: okay, now we dedicate ourselves to her, we give her everything she needs... then, if we want, we will have another child. Both you and Yoichi were very convinced that a max of 5 years after the birth of the kid you would try again, but Fujiko filled your lives so much that you decided that only she was good for the whole life

Fujiko's appearance bears little resemblance to her father's, maybe just a few facial features. If we talk about character, however, everything changes completely: it's a kind of Isagi 2.0, the same determination coupled with a lot of kindness. We will find out later if she also has bipolar disorder on and off the field like her dad- WHO SAID THAT??

"Fujiko, why aren't there any more pencil in your pencilcase?"

"Mom, I had to give them to some friends. Otherwise they couldn't write what the teacher said"

"This kindness reminds me of someone"

"Who? Who? Who?"

"Think about it: who do you consider to be the kindest person in the world?"

"My dad!"

...doing homework with your daughter, you noticed that some things were missing. Isagi is kind, one of the kindest in the world; when you told him about it he was perplexed, because he too would have done the exact same thing... just like his little girl

✶ Having now become a professional striker, he often does not have the opportunity to spend long periods at home due to champions or special training sessions. When this happens he is happy to leave because soccer is his passion anyway, on the other hand he dies inside every time he hugs his daughter or you for the last time. He loves his family, he would like to always be with you and Fujiko because you give him courage, but he understands that always moving with him from city to city, or even from country to country, is complicated and, above all, tiring

✶ He would like to direct Fujiko towards soccer, but at the same time he knows that he cannot choose something that is actually up to her. He has the belief that Fujiko would probably be good as him, unlocking her own version of the meta vision, but he prefers to see her little girl happy with the things she has chosen and loves

Favorite father-daughter(s) activity: he likes when they watch the games Isagi has already played. Television often replays reruns of recent or even old matches, and whenever Isagi is present on the field, Fujiko is the first to ask to watch them together. Yoichi enjoys seeing her so amazed by the actions on the field, commenting on anything that she doesn't understand because she rightfully doesn't know the rules of soccer. The thing that amuses him most is explaining to her who are the people he passes the ball, whether they are his friends or not, but now for Fujiko there is only Bachira with the title of dad's friend

When you and your little girl(s) show up at one of his games: the mere fact that you come to see him play is a lot for him, but since you and Fujiko once showed up wearing a jacket that said "biggest fan of number 11" on the back, he understood that he didn't it would matter if he were to be burned alive if he did it for you. Unfortunately the insults would always be there, but he would try to contain himself in front of his little girl. At the end of the game the first thing he would do is come to you and let you onto the field, making you celebrate with him

[thedensworld]

Thicker Than Blood | K. Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: Non-biological parents au!, angst

Summary: It was an impulsive decision to take the kid home, but who knows it will bloom the flower in your family

Warning: mention of child abuse, PTSD, abusive act.

You held your breath when you saw the bruises on her small body, a wave of unease settling heavily in your chest. Mingyu’s grip on your hand tightened, his jaw clenching as he glared at the sight before him. "How dare him!" The thought burned hot in his mind. The doctor’s sharp gaze shifted between the two of you, eyes filled with suspicion.

“We need an explanation before we proceed with the examination, Mr. Kim,” the doctor said firmly, his tone unwavering. His eyes lingered on the bruises that marred the child’s delicate skin. It was a sight that would send any parent into a frenzy of worry, but the doctor's eyes held doubt.

The nurse moved swiftly, taking little Jia’s hand and guiding her toward the play corner. The child followed obediently, her curious gaze flicking back to the two of you. Her innocence made the sight of those bruises even more painful.

Mingyu exhaled slowly, adjusting his posture in the chair. His fingers tapped against his knee in slow, deliberate motions. “It’s a complicated story,” he admitted, his voice low but steady.

Mingyu had received news that his mother’s youngest brother had passed away. The man had always been a thorn in the family’s side — loud, reckless, and perpetually jobless. He drank from morning till night, draining not only his wallet but also the patience of everyone around him. Even after their grandmother’s passing, he remained a source of endless frustration, often bothering Mingyu's mother with his demands. So, when the news of his death arrived, Mingyu had felt an unexpected sense of relief.

But that relief didn’t last.

When you and Mingyu arrived at the funeral house, the air was thick with incense and murmured prayers. Relatives filled the room, most of them offering shallow condolences for a man none of them seemed to truly grieve. Mingyu hadn’t expected anything more — until whispers reached his ears.

“Did you see her? She’s so young. Poor thing.”

“Didn’t even know he had a kid.”

“Where’s the mother? How could she just leave her like this?”

His gaze followed theirs until it landed on a little girl standing off to the side. Her clothes were slightly wrinkled, her hair tied up in a loose, messy ponytail. She was clutching a stuffed rabbit that looked like it had seen better days. Her wide, observant eyes darted around the room like she was looking for something — or someone.

“Is the mother here?” Mingyu had asked, turning to one of the older relatives.

The older woman clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Ran off ages ago. No one's seen her since.”

She was raised by your uncle alone — or so they said. But knowing the kind of man your uncle was, Mingyu found it hard to believe. A man who spent his days drowning in alcohol, stumbling through life with no sense of responsibility, hardly seemed like someone capable of raising a child. Even the way he died — struck by a car while drunkenly crossing the road — spoke volumes about the reckless life he led.

So, when Mingyu first heard about the girl, doubt immediately took root in his mind. Did he really raise her? Or was she just another person he neglected? The questions lingered in his head, heavy and unsettling.

But then he saw her with his own eyes.

Her clothes were tattered and clung to her like old rags. Dirt smudged her cheeks and arms, leaving faint streaks across her skin. Her hair was long — far too long — wild and unkempt, hanging in tangled strands down her back. She didn't look up when people spoke to her. She didn't reach out for comfort. She just stood there, silent and still, like a forgotten doll abandoned in the corner of a crowded room.

Mingyu’s heart twisted at the sight. How long had she been living like this?

"She smells like cigarettes," you whispered to Mingyu as Jia was seated near you. The faint but distinct scent lingered in the air, sharp and unsettling. Mingyu's eyes flickered toward the girl, his brows knitting together. He noticed it too.

Was my uncle really raising her alone?

The thought echoed in his mind, each repetition hitting harder than the last. Did he smoke around her too? His jaw tightened, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The image of a little girl surrounded by secondhand smoke while her father drank himself numb was enough to make his stomach churn.

Meanwhile, the room buzzed with low murmurs as the family discussed who would take care of Jia now. The adults sat in a loose circle, voices laced with uncertainty and half-hearted sympathy. The phrases were all too familiar — "It’s not the right time for us." "We’ve got too much on our plate already." "Maybe she could stay with someone else." Even Mingyu’s own mother was subtly searching for reasons to excuse herself from the responsibility.

No one said it outright, but it was clear. No one wanted her.

Mingyu leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving Jia. She sat next to you, her small hands playing with the hem of her oversized shirt. You had crouched beside her, your voice soft as you tried to draw her into conversation. She didn’t speak, but she responded with small gestures — a nod, a glance, a hesitant tug on your sleeve. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She’s not ignoring you, Mingyu thought. She’s just scared.

On the drive home, the air in the car was quiet, except for the soft hum of the engine. You stared out the window, your eyes distant, lost in thought. Then, after a moment, you spoke.

“When my parents passed away, I had to take care of myself,” you said, your voice calm but heavy with meaning.

Mingyu glanced at you, his eyes shifting from the road to your face. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he was listening. He always listened when it mattered.

"I have older siblings," you continued, "but they had their own families to think about. So, at the end of the day, it was just me." Your gaze remained on the window, watching the world blur past.

"I had to keep going. Finish school. Work part-time jobs. Take care of the house." Your voice grew quieter, almost like you were speaking to yourself now.

Mingyu’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He knew you were strong, but hearing it laid out like this made him realize just how much you’d carried on your own.

You turned to him then, offering a small, tired smile. "But I was 18," you said, your eyes soft but firm. Then you glanced forward, gaze hardening. "Jia is only 5." Your voice dropped to a whisper, but the weight of those words filled the car like a thunderclap.

Silence followed. It wasn’t awkward or tense — it was the kind of silence that made room for realization.

Mingyu’s eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror. For a moment, his gaze was distant, locked on something only he could see. Then, without warning, he turned the wheel sharply, pulling into a U-turn on the empty street.

“Wait, what are you—?” you started, gripping the seat as the car shifted direction.

But Mingyu didn’t answer. His focus was sharp, his jaw set with quiet determination. His silence said more than words ever could.

He drove back to the funeral house, his hands steady on the wheel, his heart moving faster than his mind could catch up. When he arrived, he barely turned off the engine before stepping out. You watched him jog toward the house, his long strides urgent but purposeful.

Moments later, he returned — and in his arms was Jia.

She clung to him like she’d always belonged there, her small hands gripping his jacket as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Her wild hair brushed against his neck, and for once, she looked less like a forgotten child and more like someone being held.

Mingyu opened the car door and sat her in the back seat, buckling her in with careful, deliberate movements. When he finally slid back into the driver’s seat, he glanced at you. His eyes were calm but certain, like he’d already made up his mind long before you’d even spoken.

“Let’s take care of her,” he said, his voice steady, as if it were the most natural decision in the world.

The examination results were difficult to hear, though not entirely unexpected. Jia was malnourished, significantly shorter and underweight for a child her age. Her verbal communication was delayed, and the doctor suggested it might be the result of prolonged trauma. His words hung in the air like a heavy weight neither you nor Mingyu could shake off.

“You should consider seeing a child behaviorist,” the doctor recommended, glancing between the two of you. “It would help to better understand her psychological condition and ensure she gets the support she needs.”

Mingyu nodded, his expression unreadable but his grip on your hand was firm. You felt his resolve in that silent squeeze.

On the drive home, Jia sat quietly in the back seat. Her head leaned against the window, her eyes following the blur of passing buildings, cars, and trees. She didn’t speak, didn’t hum, didn’t ask questions the way most five-year-olds did. The only sound was the gentle hum of the engine.

You stopped by a supermarket on the way home to pick up essentials — clothes, children’s toiletries, snacks, and other necessities. It felt surreal, walking down the aisles and filling the cart with items meant for a child you’d only just met. You exchanged glances with Mingyu every now and then, wordlessly checking if you were doing this right. His eyes held the same unspoken question.

The two of you had only gotten married earlier this year. Conversations about children had always been distant, hypothetical musings — “If we have kids someday, maybe they’ll have your eyes.” Or, “When we have kids, we’ll have to childproof everything.” Idle thoughts that didn’t demand any real action. But now, it wasn’t a thought or a dream. It was reality.

You were raising a child. A five-year-old. A child who wasn’t biologically yours.

The weight of it settled on your shoulders as you loaded the shopping bags into the trunk. Mingyu’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes soft with quiet reassurance. He didn't say anything, but he didn’t need to. His presence was enough.

At home, the air felt still but not uncomfortable. While you unpacked the shopping bags, Mingyu moved to the kitchen to prepare a small meal for Jia, just in case she hadn’t eaten that day. You glanced toward the living room where she sat on the couch, her tiny feet barely touching the edge, her hands resting on her lap. She was looking down at her fingers, fidgeting with them like she was trying to keep herself busy.

You were about to call her for dinner when her voice — small, soft, and fragile like a thread on the verge of snapping — broke the quiet.

“My dad is dead?”

The words hit you like a sudden gust of cold wind, sharp and unyielding. Your breath caught in your chest, and for a moment, you didn’t move. Mingyu froze too, turning his head from the stove to watch you. His gaze was alert but gentle, like he was ready to step in if you needed him to.

Slowly, you walked over to Jia, crouching down in front of her until you were at her eye level. Her eyes met yours, wide and searching for something you weren’t sure you could give her. The weight of her question settled in the space between you.

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice as steady as you could make it. “Your dad is gone.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she was trying to hold back tears.

“But…” you continued, tilting your head toward Mingyu, “that man right there?” You pointed at him, and her gaze followed your finger. “He’s your dad now.”

Mingyu glanced at you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. But then his expression softened, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. He turned off the stove and walked over, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before kneeling beside you.

“And me,” you said, tapping your chest with a gentle smile. “I’m your mom.”

Jia’s eyes flickered between the two of you, her fingers still fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Her lips parted just slightly as if to speak, but she hesitated. Then, after a long pause, she muttered, “Mom…” The word was so soft it was almost inaudible, but you heard it.

It was enough to make your chest ache.

You nodded, your eyes warm with quiet encouragement. You opened your arms slowly, offering her a hug, hoping she’d lean into it. “Come here, sweetheart,” you said softly.

But she didn’t move. She stayed still, her eyes watching you carefully, as if trying to figure out if it was safe. Her fingers kept twisting and untwisting the fabric of her shirt.

Your heart ached, but you nodded in understanding, lowering your arms slowly. “It’s okay,” you said with a gentle smile. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

Mingyu reached out and lightly patted her head, his touch gentle but firm, like he was reminding her she wasn’t alone. She glanced up at him, her gaze lingering just a little longer this time.

"Jia's going to be okay here," you said firmly, your voice filled with certainty. You didn’t say it just for her — you said it for yourself too. "With mom and dad, you’ll be safe. We promise."

Jia blinked slowly, her gaze still cautious but a little less distant. She didn’t say anything, but this time, when Mingyu ruffled her hair again, she didn’t flinch.

It was a start. And sometimes, a start was all you needed.

The first week was an emotional whirlwind. Both of you had to rearrange your entire lives. Remote work became the only option when you quickly realized that daycare wasn’t a suitable choice for Jia — not with everything she’d been through. It wasn’t just about leaving her in someone else’s care. It was about trust. And Jia had already learned, far too young, that adults couldn’t always be trusted.

The visit to the child behaviorist was the hardest part. Sitting in that small, sterile office, you listened as the specialist laid out the results with a calm but empathetic tone.

“For a five-year-old, Jia is showing clear signs of depression,” the behaviorist explained, their gaze shifting gently between you and Mingyu. “Her speech delay, difficulty making decisions, and avoidance of communication — these are all symptoms of the environment she grew up in.”

You sat in stunned silence, gripping Mingyu’s hand tightly. His thumb rubbed slow, steady circles against your palm, but you could feel the tension in his grip. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the floor, his breathing slow and deliberate — the only sign that he was trying to control the anger brewing inside him.

“Children her age should be exploring, talking, asking questions,” the behaviorist continued. “But it sounds like she spent most of her time in survival mode.”

That phrase stuck with you. Survival mode. For five years, Jia had lived like that. And now, at only five years old, she was already exhausted.

At home, the puzzle pieces started coming together. She flinched every time someone reached toward her too quickly. Her whole body would tense, her eyes darting toward the source of the movement like she was bracing for impact. It didn’t matter if it was you, Mingyu, or even a harmless gesture like placing a blanket over her shoulders. She always reacted the same way.

It broke you.

She hated cigarette boxes. The sight of them made her shrink into herself, her small frame folding inward like she was trying to disappear. She’d stare at them with wide, fearful eyes, refusing to move until they were out of sight. It didn’t take long to figure out why.

The soju bottles had a similar effect. Once, while you and Mingyu were clearing out the kitchen cabinets, a soju bottle slipped from the top shelf and clattered loudly on the counter. Jia had been in the living room playing with a puzzle, but at the sound of glass clinking, she froze. Her little hands stopped mid-movement, her face going pale as her eyes locked on the bottle.

Her breathing grew shallow. Her eyes darted to the front door like she was ready to bolt.

“Jia, it’s okay,” you said softly, stepping toward her slowly, hands raised so she could see them. "It’s just a bottle. No one’s going to hurt you."

But she didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

Mingyu moved faster than you. He was already at her side, kneeling down, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “Look at me, Jia,” he said gently, his deep voice unusually soft. His eyes stayed locked on hers, never once looking at the bottle. “That’s just a bottle, nothing else. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Her gaze flickered to him, her tiny chest rising and falling rapidly. Slowly, she shifted her focus from the bottle to his face. He smiled at her, a warm, reassuring smile that didn’t rush her to respond.

“See? No one’s mad. No one’s angry,” he continued, his voice like a steady heartbeat. "You're safe, okay? Safe."

It took time, but eventually, her breathing steadied. She looked at the bottle once more, then slowly looked away, her hands curling into fists on her lap.

Later that night, while you were tucking her into bed, Mingyu stood by the door with his arms crossed, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

“She’s terrified of cigarettes, terrified of soju, and she flinches every time she’s touched,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp as broken glass. His eyes stayed on Jia, his gaze softening only for her. But his next words were filled with quiet, seething rage. “That man won’t rest in peace for what he did to her.”

You glanced at him, your heart heavy with shared anger and grief. “She’ll need therapy,” you said softly, smoothing a hand over Jia’s blanket. She had already fallen asleep, her small face finally at ease after a long, difficult day. “We’ll do everything we can.”

Mingyu's eyes flicked toward you, his gaze steady but fierce. “Everything,” he echoed firmly, like a vow.

And from the way he looked at Jia, you knew he meant it.

*

Mingyu's mother visited after the first month, her arrival stirring a mix of nerves and anticipation. But as she sat in the living room, her eyes naturally found Jia, who was on the floor, carefully stacking her colorful blocks with the kind of quiet concentration only children could master.

There was a noticeable difference in her. Jia was no longer the withdrawn, fearful girl she had been when she first came into your home. She felt safer now — it showed in the way she moved freely around you and Mingyu, no longer flinching at sudden movements. Her small giggles echoed through the house like sunlight spilling through cracks, and every laugh she let out sent butterflies fluttering in your chest.

She was still shy, especially around adults, but she had started to show an interest in making friends her age. You saw it with your own eyes during her first day at daycare a week ago. She had stood quietly for a while, watching the other kids play, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. Then, with hesitant but determined steps, she approached a little girl nearby. You watched as she extended her small hand for a handshake. Her lips moved softly, and though you couldn’t hear her, you knew she was introducing herself. The sight had made your heart swell with pride, and you couldn't wait to tell Mingyu.

“She introduced herself,” you had shared with him later that night. “She actually walked up to another kid and said her name. Can you believe that?”

Mingyu had smiled so wide his eyes disappeared. “She’s brave,” he said, his voice filled with pride. "Our brave little girl."

But now, the air in the house felt different. Mingyu’s mother sipped her tea slowly, her gaze shifting between you, Mingyu, and the little girl quietly playing in the corner. She set her cup down, her eyes sharp but cautious.

“Are the two of you sure about legally adopting her?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed.

Mingyu, who had been stirring his tea with absent-minded patience, finally put his spoon down. He placed a cup of tea in front of his mother before sitting beside you on the couch, his posture straight but not stiff.

"Yes, mother," he said firmly. "We have to take action since no one else will." His tone was steady, each word deliberate.

"That’s a big decision," she said, her fingers lacing together on her lap. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tilted her head. "Have you really thought it through?"

Mingyu nodded. "We have. We talked about it, thought it over for weeks. We’ve even discussed finances, education, and everything else we might face in the future.” His hand slid beneath the table, finding yours. His fingers interlocked with yours, and each time he was about to speak, his grip would tighten. It was subtle but clear — he was asking you to let him handle it. This was his mother, after all, and he knew her best.

“But she’s not blood-related,” his mother said, her gaze flickering toward Jia for a brief moment before settling back on Mingyu. Her eyes grew colder, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “Her mother was a prostitute.”

Silence filled the room like heavy fog.

Mingyu let out a slow, controlled sigh, his jaw flexing for a brief second before he leaned forward, his eyes locked on his mother.

“Mom, that doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice sharp but calm. “She’s five. Five. Her mother’s choices have nothing to do with her.” His eyes narrowed, his voice firm but respectful. “And let’s not forget that your brother — your brother — didn’t take care of her either. He left her hungry, bruised, and scared for years. You think I should do the same?”

His mother blinked, visibly taken aback. Her fingers fidgeted on the table, tapping lightly against the wood. She glanced at Jia, who was still playing quietly, blissfully unaware of the conversation. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“We could send her to a foster home,” she muttered, her eyes fixed on the tea in front of her.

Mingyu let out a short, bitter laugh, tilting his head back as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting the weight of her words settle in the room. Slowly, he picked up his tea and took a slow sip, his eyes watching his mother from over the rim of the cup.

He didn’t have to say anything for her to know what he was thinking. The silence said it all.

After a long pause, he set the cup down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were sharper now, his voice low but firm. “Mom, listen to me carefully,” he said, and for the first time, she looked directly at him. "Jia isn’t some responsibility we’re trying to avoid. She’s family. Family isn’t just blood — it’s the people who love you, protect you, and make sure you’re safe.” He glanced at you briefly before looking back at his mother. “That little girl has lived through things a child her age should never have to experience. So, no, we’re not sending her to a foster home. We’re her home now.”

You glanced at Mingyu, pride swelling in your chest. His hand still gripped yours tightly, anchoring the both of you.

“I know you’re worried for us,” you added, your voice softer than his but no less firm. "I know you’re thinking about how hard this will be, and you’re right. It’s going to be hard. But we’ve already spent a month with her, and you’ve seen it yourself. She’s growing, changing, and finally learning to feel safe.” Your gaze softened as you looked at his mother. “If things get difficult, we’ll ask for help. From you, from family, from friends. But we’re not giving up on her. Not now. Not ever.”

Mingyu's mother didn’t speak immediately. Her eyes flickered to Jia once more, watching as she carefully balanced a red block on top of a blue one, her tongue peeking out as she focused. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as if the tower of blocks was the most important thing in the world.

"She’s a sweet girl,” his mother finally said, her voice softer now. Her eyes lingered on Jia for a moment longer before turning back to you and Mingyu. "But sweet doesn’t mean easy.”

Mingyu nodded, his gaze unwavering. "We know."

For a moment, no one said anything. His mother picked up her cup, taking another slow sip of tea. Her eyes remained thoughtful as she gazed down at the cup, her fingers no longer tapping nervously.

“You’ll call me if you need help?” she asked, her tone lighter this time, less sharp.

“Of course,” Mingyu said, his lips curving into a small smile. "But only if you're ready to see her as family too."

She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no real fight in her gaze this time. Instead, she sighed, setting the teacup back on the table with a quiet clink.

“Fine,” she muttered, folding her arms. “But if she calls me grandma one day, I’ll hold you responsible.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with a knowing grin. “Deal.”

You watched as his mother shook her head, hiding a small, reluctant smile behind her hand. Her gaze wandered to Jia one more time, her eyes just a little softer than before.

The day the adoption papers were approved felt surreal, like a weight you didn’t realize you’d been carrying had finally lifted. It was official now — Jia was no longer just the little girl you were caring for. She was Kim Jia, legally and irrevocably your daughter. You and Mingyu were her parents in every sense of the word.

The moment you received the confirmation call, Mingyu pulled you into a tight hug, his grin so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes. "She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and pride. "Officially, legally, and forever ours."

That night, you celebrated quietly with a small cake at home. Jia sat between you and Mingyu at the kitchen table, her wide eyes focused on the flickering candle. You guided her small hands to clasp them together, showing her how to make a wish.

"Close your eyes and think of something you really want," you said softly, watching her from the side. She squeezed her eyes shut, her brows furrowed in concentration. After a few seconds, she looked up at you with a small nod, ready to blow out the candle. Her breath was small but determined, the tiny flame vanishing with a single huff.

“What did you wish for, sweetie?” Mingyu asked, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes warm and curious.

Jia glanced at him, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Secret,” she muttered with a small, mischievous smile.

You and Mingyu exchanged a glance before bursting into soft laughter. It was moments like these that reminded you just how far she’d come.

Since starting regular speech therapy sessions, Jia's speech had blossomed. Her words were still short and simple, but they were hers — words she chose for herself, not ones prompted or forced from her.

Her quiet voice had become your favorite sound in the world. She wasn't as talkative or curious as other five-year-olds, but she didn’t have to be. Each word she spoke felt like a little victory.

“Jia, do you want pancakes or eggs for breakfast?” you’d ask in the mornings.

“Eggs,” she’d say, her tiny voice as soft as a breeze.

“Scrambled or fried?”

“Scrambled,” she’d reply, her eyes peeking at you shyly before focusing on her plate.

Every time she spoke, you and Mingyu shared a glance, silently celebrating her growth. It wasn’t just her voice that had changed. She was learning to make choices, to have preferences, and to express them out loud. It was something that once seemed so far away, but here she was, making it feel so natural.

But not all questions were as simple as what to have for breakfast.

One evening, as you were folding laundry in the living room, Jia sat on the carpet nearby, brushing her doll’s hair with careful strokes. Her eyes stayed on the doll’s face as she spoke, her voice quieter than usual but clear enough for you to hear.

“Why are you and Daddy my parents?” she asked, not looking up from her doll. Her small fingers smoothed the doll’s tangled strands with slow, gentle patience.

The question stopped you mid-fold, the shirt in your hands suddenly feeling heavier than it should. You glanced at Mingyu, who was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. He froze too, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

He set his phone aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. You could see him thinking, carefully picking his words before he spoke.

“Because you needed us,” he said softly, his voice gentle but firm. “And we needed you.”

Jia’s hands paused on the doll’s hair. She glanced up at him, her eyes round and thoughtful. "Needed me?" she repeated slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue.

Mingyu smiled, nodding. "Yup. We didn’t know it at first, but the moment we met you, we realized it." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes steady and sincere as he gazed at her. “Families aren’t just about who you’re born to. Sometimes, families are made by love, not blood.”

You sat down on the carpet beside Jia, placing a hand on her back, rubbing slow circles. “We chose you, Jia,” you said softly. “We saw you, and we decided we wanted to be your parents. And we’re really, really happy we did.”

Her little brows scrunched together, her lips pursed as if she were processing everything at once. Her eyes moved from you to Mingyu, then back to her doll. She resumed brushing its hair, her strokes slower than before.

"Other kids have one mommy, one daddy," she muttered. "I had no mommy... then two?"

Her words hit like a punch straight to your heart. You glanced at Mingyu, and he was already looking at you, his eyes filled with that quiet understanding only the two of you shared.

“That’s true,” you replied, keeping your voice soft but steady. “Some kids have one mom and one dad. Some have two moms. Some have two dads. And some kids, like you, have a mommy and daddy who chose them.” You reached for her hand, gently holding it in yours. “It’s not about how many you start with, sweetie. It’s about how many people love you.”

Her fingers curled around yours, tiny but warm. She didn't look up, still focused on the doll in her lap. Her grip on your hand was firm, though, like she understood something deeper than what her five-year-old mind could fully put into words.

“Did you choose Daddy too?” she asked suddenly, peeking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

This time, it was Mingyu who choked on a laugh. “She did,” he answered before you could. “She picked me, and I got lucky.” He reached over to ruffle her hair, and for once, she didn’t flinch. She giggled, pushing his hand away with an exaggerated pout.

“No, no,” she said, her cheeks puffed out in mock annoyance. But her smile betrayed her.

"Yup," you said, grinning as you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I picked him because I knew he’d be a good dad one day.”

Jia tilted her head up at him, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Is Daddy good?” she asked, her lips curling into a tiny, mischievous smile.

“The best,” you whispered loud enough for Mingyu to hear, giving him a teasing glance.

“Darn right, I am,” he said with a dramatic huff, crossing his arms. “Don’t forget it, little one.”

Her giggle burst out like a bell, bright and clear, and just like that, the air felt lighter again. Moments like this — these little, precious, fleeting moments — reminded you why everything had been worth it.

Later that night, as you tucked Jia into bed, she stared at the ceiling, her eyes far away in thought. You leaned down, brushing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, Jia," you whispered, pulling her blanket up to her shoulders.

Her eyes shifted to you, and just as you were about to stand, she reached out, gripping the sleeve of your shirt.

"Mommy," she said, her voice so soft it could have been a breath.

"Yes, baby?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours. Then she whispered, “Thank you for choosing me.”

Your heart squeezed so tightly you thought it might stop. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. Instead, you cupped her cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing against her soft skin.

“Thank you for letting us,” you replied, your voice shaking just a little.

She nodded, her eyes slowly fluttering closed as she relaxed into the pillow. You stayed for a while, watching her breathe, letting the quiet peace of the room settle around you.

When you finally stepped out of her room, Mingyu was waiting in the hallway, his arms folded as he leaned against the wall. He tilted his head toward you, raising a brow.

“She call you ‘Mommy’ just now?” he asked, his voice quiet with awe.

You nodded, wiping at the corner of your eye. “Yeah. She did.”

Mingyu let out a breathy laugh, covering his face with his hands. “Man,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I think that just broke me.”

You stepped into his arms, letting him pull you into a hug. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you a little tighter than usual.

"Kim Jia," he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with warmth and certainty. "Our little girl."

[mya-valentine]

Hi :D! Can I request Kinich with an s/o that is pure innocent and always see the good in other, to the point she doesn't mind Ajaw behavior, despite his awful behavior she thinks that he's cute and naively thought whenever he interrupt their date it's just Ajaw wanting attention or thought he's jealous because she stole Kinich away from him, spoiling Kinich's saurian with some affection like giving him juice to calm him down so she and Kinich can enjoy their date peacefully. Even if Ajaw insult her she just thought he's cute and not offended, jokingly said that Ajaw is like their child.

Soft Hearts and Sharp Tongues: A Date with Kinich and Ajaw

It was another sunny afternoon in the lush forests of Natlan, where the air smelled like blooming flowers and the wind carried a gentle, comforting warmth. You had been looking forward to this day all week—a special date with Kinich. He had promised to take you to a secluded spot near a riverbank, where the trees formed a natural canopy, casting dappled sunlight on the grassy floor. It sounded perfect, peaceful, and just the kind of place where you could enjoy each other’s company, away from the usual hustle of daily life.

As you walked alongside Kinich, your fingers intertwined with his, you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment. His stoic demeanor always made you feel safe, and you loved the way his soft gaze warmed only for you. His protector's instincts kicked in often, but today was supposed to be just about the two of you.

Except… there was Ajaw.

The moment you and Kinich had sat down on the soft blanket by the riverbank, a loud, familiar voice disrupted the tranquility.

"Look at you two, playing house again, huh?" Ajaw barked, his grating tone unmistakable. "Kinich, I can't believe you're wasting your time here."

You smiled warmly, not at all phased by the interruption. You adored Kinich’s companion, despite his crude and unruly behavior. While most people were put off by Ajaw’s loud mouth and constant sarcasm, you always saw something different—a creature who needed a little love, a little attention. Maybe he was just misunderstood.

"Ajaw!" you greeted him cheerfully, waving your hand like you were seeing an old friend. "It’s nice to see you! Would you like to join us?"

Kinich let out a sigh, visibly tensing. He had hoped Ajaw wouldn’t find you two today. "Ignore him," Kinich murmured softly to you, squeezing your hand slightly. "He’s just being… himself."

But you shook your head, unbothered. "I think he just wants some attention. Maybe he’s jealous I stole you away for the day?" You giggled innocently, oblivious to the look of disbelief that passed between Kinich and Ajaw.

"Jealous? Of you?" Ajaw scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself, girl. It’s more like I’m disgusted by the nauseating display of sweetness you two are putting on."

Your smile never faltered. In fact, you leaned in closer to Ajaw, as if trying to offer him some comfort. "Well, maybe you just need some juice to calm down!" you said, reaching into the picnic basket and handing him a small bottle of fruit juice. "It’s really refreshing. Here, drink this, and you’ll feel better."

Ajaw blinked, clearly caught off guard by your gesture. "Juice? I don’t need your pity juice," he snarled, though his words lacked the usual venom. It was as if he was momentarily confused by your kindness.

"Oh, come on, Ajaw, you’re like a little kid when you’re upset," you teased, eyes gleaming with amusement. "It’s like we’re your parents, and you’re our grumpy little child."

Kinich shot you a look of mild horror, and Ajaw’s face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Child? You dare call the great—"

But you laughed, cutting him off. "I think it’s cute. You’re just misunderstood, and that’s okay! We all need love in different ways."

Ajaw was flabbergasted. How could you be so… unbothered? How could you look at his insults and see something cute? "You’re either incredibly naive or just plain stupid," he growled, clearly trying to regain his usual sharp edge.

"Neither!" you chirped, taking a sip of your own juice. "I just think you and Kinich are close. You don’t mean half the things you say, do you?"

Kinich ran a hand down his face, torn between amusement and exasperation. "[Name]," he started cautiously, "Ajaw isn’t… exactly the affectionate type. Don’t read too much into his behavior."

But you just smiled up at Kinich, your eyes bright with an optimism that seemed unshakable. "I know he’s rough around the edges, but I think deep down, he’s just trying to protect you in his own way. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it properly, but I get it."

Ajaw’s feathers ruffled. "Protect him? The only thing I’m protecting him from is the mistake of spending his life with someone who doesn’t know when to shut up."

You just laughed again, unoffended as usual. "You’re so funny, Ajaw! You act so tough, but I know you’re secretly sweet. You’re just too proud to admit it."

Kinich couldn’t help but chuckle at your words, shaking his head slightly. "You’re too kind for your own good, you know that?" he murmured to you, though there was a deep affection in his tone.

As the afternoon went on, you and Kinich tried to enjoy your picnic, but Ajaw continued to linger nearby, throwing sarcastic comments your way. Every time he tried to insult you, though, you would respond with kindness or a lighthearted joke, completely disarming him.

You even offered him some of the fruit you had packed, much to Kinich’s amusement and Ajaw’s growing irritation. But strangely enough, Ajaw never left. He stayed within earshot, occasionally making snide remarks but never actually leaving you two alone. It was almost as if he wanted to be part of the day, even if he would never admit it.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape, you leaned your head against Kinich’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. "This was a perfect day," you said softly.

Kinich wrapped an arm around you, his lips brushing the top of your head. "I’m glad you think so. Even with… certain interruptions," he added with a pointed glance at Ajaw, who was still nearby, pretending not to care.

You glanced at Ajaw, your heart full of warmth. "Oh, come on, Kinich. He’s like family. You’ll see—one day, he’ll appreciate me."

Ajaw made a gagging noise in the background, but you only smiled wider. "Right, Ajaw?" you called out playfully.

"Over my dead body," he growled back.

You giggled softly, unbothered by his hostility. "Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring you some different juice," you mused. "You’ll like that, right?"

Ajaw glared at you, pixels puffed out in irritation. But for a brief moment—just a fleeting second—there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to grow on him.

"Whatever," Ajaw muttered, turning away. "You two make me sick."

But as he floated off, you and Kinich exchanged amused glances. You knew better. Ajaw would be back tomorrow, grumpy as ever, but maybe—just maybe—a little less resistant to the idea of being part of your unconventional little family.

For now, though, you were content to rest in Kinich’s arms, the peaceful river flowing beside you and the sunset painting the sky in warm hues. Despite Ajaw’s interruptions, today had been perfect, just as you had hoped. And, in your heart, you believed that even Ajaw was starting to feel the love.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[dunmeshistash]

Why did Milsiril adopt Kabru

Milsiril might be one of the most misunderstood characters in dungeon meshi and I see people making assumptions of why she adopted Kabru based only on their races and not in the characterization, so I wanted to think about some of the "theories" I see the most often about what made her take him in and why I don't agree with them

(read more cause as usual I ranted a lot)

1 - Attention (white elf savior)

This is the one I have the hardest time understanding so I'm starting with it, I've seen people compare Milsiril to irl white wealthy women that adopt "exotic" kids to keep an altruistic appearance. Like a white mother adopting a chinese child because of white savior complex and for everyone to compliment them on how good they are but this idea ignores a core aspect of Milsiril: she doesn't like attention of her peers

Her bio reads: "The people around her teased her, calling her Gloomy Milsiril; partly as a result, she hates elves. (...) She secluded herself deep in the mountains and intentionally lives apart from other elves"

Milsiril is the type of person that has trauma related to her own kin, she was ostracized by everyone including her own family that sent her to the canaries, and as a result she herself refuses to engage with them even when they extend a hand as you can see with past Mithrun. The only other elf she's seen speaking to is Mithrun when he's sick and Helki. Her interest in raising short lived kids isn't seen as altruistic by other elves it's seen as another weird side of her so there's no incentive in elf society for her to do that. So she didn't adopt Kabru because of optics, she clearly doesn't care what other elves think of her and she hid herself from their judging eyes as soon as she was able to.

2 - She wants to feel superior to someone

Another one I find baffling but I can understand a little better since she's constantly seen in the caretaker role. But the evidence I see for this is literally the type of people she surrounds herself with.

The people we know she interacts with willingly are:

Her adopted short lived children

One of her prisoner partners (Helki)

Mithrun when he's in recovery

Based on these I can see how a very uncharitable view can interpret as "she surrounds herself with people that she's superior to" and it is somewhat true. But she's never shown mistreating or actually acting superior to any of them, if anything Helki is constantly hanging out around her (he was pardoned after Utaya and might be her servant now but their interactions seem very casual), Kabru says she teaches her children everything they want to know and she eventually let him go even if before she was hesitant to (as a overprotective parent) and Mithrun was still a noble with several servants when she cared for him so even if he was sick socially he was still the same. (considering both are noble outcasts)

The evidence both for and against the idea that she adopts children to surround herself with people "inferior" to her are all circumstantial so I guess it depends on how you want to see it. I myself think there's no evidence she thinks of them as inferior considering all we see she seems to treat them either as her babies (would you word your feelings for a baby as them being inferior to you?) or as someone she wants to nurture

3 - She wants to be in control of someone (Kabru is her doll)

Related to the above reason but slightly different, in this interpretation I see people assume she doesn't see Kabru as his own person but as one of her dolls to be controlled. As if she raises her children so she can play house and dress up with human dolls.

Honestly that's pretty cool and an amazing visual for an evil mom but there's zero evidence that that's the case. Starting with her actual dolls themselves they aren't dress up dolls or something she puppeteers in an evil way, they're literally her comfort toys she runs to when she's sad

She's making them by hand while crying cause she feels like she doesn't belong, her bio says the dolls are her only friends so it makes me a little sad when people act like her doll hobby is somehow a creepy aspect that makes her seem evil, since that's exactly how the elves think of her (creepy and gloomy)

Milsiril is clearly someone that enjoys taking care of others we see it both with her children and with Mithrun, but how to know if that's actual altruism or some twisted sense of superiority? How to know if she isn't the toxic nurse that just wants to be in power of someone? How to know she is actually helping the people she cares for?

Easy, she helped them until they didn't need her anymore.

She trained Kabru and taught him everything he knows, he's where he is because he had her help even if at first she wanted to prove he wasn't strong enough to go, he was. She sees Kabru as a small child because of their race differences but she still respected him enough to take the training seriously.

Mithrun actually recovered once she could take the time to help him, I keep reminding it but it was years after he was rescued that she went to help with his recovery (his bio says Utaya was what motivated him to finally come back and she was the one that went to tell him about Utaya and help out) right now Mithrun is able to follow a routine and live by himself, Milsiril isn't even someone he talks about as he is now.

Both people we know she cared for are completely independent of her now and neither of them even thinks about her much. A controlling person that wants to keep you within their grasp and keep you needing them would never actually help you be independent of them.

4 - Then why did she adopt Kabru?

I think it's an easy answer the way I see it: shared trauma.

What Kabru went thru is 100 times worse than what Milsiril went thru during Utaya, especially since he was just a small child back then and he lost everything, But Milsiril is still a war veteran, the things Kabru describes, people turning into monsters eating the others, all the death and destruction, Milsiril was there to witness it all and she failed to save them. her bio reads "After the incident in Utaya, she left the Canaries in disgust. She secluded herself deep in the mountains and intentionally lives apart from other elves" she was so traumatized by the events she both left "in disgust" and became a hikikomori. Earlier in her bio it also says "(...) The people around her teased her (...) partly as a result, she hates elves" I sure wonder what's the other part that makes her hate elves. (Probably is the way they dealt with Utaya)

I think she adopted Kabru because she wanted to give a good life to the only survival of the war she fought, the other destiny Kabru could have has would be the same Rin had, a traumatizing stay with the elves, Milsiril saved him from that fate when she adopted him. He wasn't a random brown kid she picked up, they share a traumatizing experience (once again: even if it was 100 times worse for Kabru).

The reason she adopted the other kids is also pretty obvious to me: she likes caring for people and she wants to feel loved. That's her ulterior motive to raise short lived children, she has elf trauma and she wants a family.

That doesn't make her a perfect mom or a perfect person tho*, she's just as flawed as anyone, I feel like people sometimes forget mothers are also human beings with flaws. Being flawed doesn't make her a monster, being loving doesn't make her an angel, she's just a person doing her best.

*She still has the ingrained elf socialization and clearly thinks of her children as babies, she treats teen Kabru almost like a toddler in some interactions. There's also the thing about her not fully understanding the importance of his cultural background. Struggles that I assume are common in interracial adoptions

Disclaimer cause this is the reading comprehension website: This is my interpretation of the character, some of it is very charitable towards Milsiril and I'm not talking about how Kabru might feel about her. I'm trying to think of their relationship thru her perspective and how she treated him because some interpretations seem to come out of nowhere to me. Kabru has complex feelings about elves and about his elf mom but overall I still think "overprotective foster mom" really summarizes his feelings. I don't think he resents her even with her flaws.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Angst]

Childhood Best Friends with a small age gap- two or three years, nothing crazy- but it means everything as they age.

It was hard for them to make friends their age when you first met. They liked things that were too "childish" for their peers - things another child who lived not to far away adored. They'd seen each other on the way to school, but they didn't interact frequently due to their difference in grade.

Until that day-

"Whoa...Cool backpack. You like that show too?"

"Thanks... I'm thinking of getting a new one though... Do you want me to ask my parents if you can have it?"

"What?! It looks fine to me... Why are you getting rid of it?"

"My friends called me a baby... I won't be able to go back to class without everyone laughing at me unless I get a better one."

"That's silly!.... It's on right now... Wanna watch it with me?"

The two were inseparable from then on- School hindered the time they had to see each other each morning, but as soon as it let out - both ran to meet with their new best friend. The elder of the pair was often mocked and teased for their choice, but they could hardly care anymore. They had someone who'd stick by their side to the very end - childish fixations and all.

Years went on and they made new friends. It happens. More obstacles began piling up throughout - chipping away at the few hours they scarcely had to begin with. Studying, Hobbies, balancing days between hanging out with other friend groups and the person who once meant the world. They tried to make things works, but nothing went to plan-

"Is it alright if Y/n comes with us tonight?"

"Y/N? Aren't they're too young to see this movie? We shouldn't be responsible if they have night terrors or something.."

"They aren't that young... Are they?"

They never thought about it before. You were so close in age as kids it never hit them that as you grew that little gap drew a bridge between you - and it was easier to let you go than finding an alternative.

"Hey, Dude! Are we still on for this weekend? I can't believe they're making a reboot after all this time!.."

"Are my messages going through? You haven't responded in a while... I saw you outside school yesterday and yelled your name, but....."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Hey."

"You're hanging out with them today? Did you forget about my birthday?...."

"You removed me off your list of friends...We're still friends, right?"

"Let me alone. I'm sick of being your babysitter. Go find friends your own age and stay away from mine."

And that was the end of things.

College cames around and their live became relatively tame. Their thoughts drifted to that childhood friend of theirs every now and again, but between school and partying with the new friends they had made - those memories faded to the back of their mind.

An acquaintance asks them to help show some new faces around the campus. One sticks out to them amongst the crowd. It's you. What do they say to you after all these years? You don't look sad to see them. Nor angry. Intact - you look..

Relieved.

Pulling them aside at the end of the tour, you free yourself from the burden that's weighted down on you since they left you.

"I'm sorry."

"It was never my intention to hold you back. Overtime I realized I was just that annoying kid who clung onto you because I thought you were my first and only friend...When you never felt that way about me. I'm sorry for taking that away from you. If our paths cross again, I promise I won't even look at you."

After being abandoned by your best friend- the person you looked up to most, you matured well beyond your years in hopes that would make you like them again. Overtime, you gave up that goal, but others could see how you've changed.

"Isn't that.... Y/n?.."

"Oh, man- It is! You guys were glued at the hip before we became teens."

"They're..kinda cute... Do you still have their number?"

All this time apart, a feeling long forgotten resurged inside them. The need to protect you. You didn't know these people like they did. You shouldn't be going to parties with them, getting to know and befriend them. They'll only hurt you - worse than they had. They never should have said goodbye to you- They should have allowed the feelings they were so scared to have, but had always been there develop and blossom naturally until you both were adults ready to move on to that stage in your friendship.

They know you best. No matter how much you grow as a person, you're still the same.

"That's a cute Keychain, Y/n!"

"Thanks! I've loved this show since I was a kid!"

They'll prove it to you.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads.  He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[dilemmaontwolegs]

OMG Your Biggest Fan was amazing!!! I was wondering if you had any plans to do a part 2 for it because now I’m dying to know how it goes! -🍯

AN: don’t know if this makes sense, it’s middle of the night and I should be asleep…will proof read in the morning lol

Your Biggest Fan {2} || LN4

Warnings: more smut, butt plugs, squirting, only fans.

One || Two || SMAU || Three

It was comfortable in Lando’s bed. He had a much better view of the water from his place than yours did and a much lower chance of a sudden visit from your parents. It was why you were holed up at his apartment for the weekend instead of at home. It was one of the few times in the calendar year that they came back but they had to meet their quota of nights in Monaco to enjoy the tax holiday.

You didn’t want them to just drop by when you had hungry subscribers to feed.

In the other room you could hear Lando laugh at whatever AngryGinge said to him and you grabbed your laptop to watch the stream.

“Do you know what you should stream?”

“Only Fans.”

“Have you ever thought about doing Only Fans?”

You bit your lip as you watched Lando swinging in his chair and answer, “I do it.”

He said it so casually that no one would probably take it seriously, if only they knew. When he finished his streams he would often join yours, fucking you for all your subscribers to see - but they could never see your faces. He got off on the act, it drove him wild, but who were you kidding, you loved it too.

“I actually have to go,” he said as he lazily chewed on his fingernail. “My favourite girl’s about to start her show. Might join in, you know?”

How he kept a straight face, you could never figure out. He could be the most unserious person, except when it came to your account. He knew what was at stake if either of you were caught. It didn’t stop him from dropping vague hints though.

The stream closed and within seconds he was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head. He swaggered his way to your side of the bed and ran his thumb over your lip, dragging it from where you had pinched it between your teeth.

“Something to say, love?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

“You’re playing with fire, big boy,” you warned as you rose on to your knees so you were chest to chest with him. “Only Fans?”

“This is me we are talking about, baby,” he laughed. “No one is going to think Little Lando Norris is getting down and dirty on Only Fans.”

“They got the ‘little’ part wrong.” You giggled and dragged your palm over his erection. Lando started to unzip his jeans and you lifted a brow as you unhooked your bra. “Who said you could join in?”

“I’m your biggest fan, babygirl, I can’t just sit here and watch,” he groaned as you pointed to the velvet seat in the corner of the room.

“Be good and I might change my mind.”

He dropped into the seat with a huff while you set up your laptop and the camera, before grabbing your toys and lube from your overnight bag.

Lando was patient, to an extent, but his nail bed would be ruined if he had to sit in the corner any longer and watch you fuck yourself six feet away from him. The plug in your ass was like a homing beacon and he rose from the chair without thinking, kicking his jeans off and freeing his painfully hard dick.

“Please, babygirl,” he begged.

You had enjoyed teasing Lando, knowing how hard it was for him to stay in the chair and watch you have all the fun. You had particularly liked the way his eyes widened at your newest toy, a shining gun metal plug that would stretch you almost as much as he did. You felt impossibly full with it in your ass while you stuffed a purple dildo in your pussy and rode it like you would Lando.

Your moans filled the room and your laptop pinged with all the tips and subscriptions coming through.

“Please,” Lando begged again.

“Fuck me, big boy,” you invited, climbing off the dildo and dropped onto your hands as he lined himself up behind you.

“I like this,” he chuckled as he tapped the plug, a moan tugging from your lips as it shifted inside you. “Very nice.”

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, feeling empty when you needed to be stretched.

Lando snapped his hips forward and the lewd sound of your dripping folds meeting his flesh made you both moan. It was almost too much, you felt so full you could hardly breathe. You resorted to quick gasps whenever he pulled back but you were left with a dizzying lightheadedness and stars dancing around your vision.

“Fuck, oh god,” you whined as your thighs began to shake. Your face collapsed into the pillows with a scream as the pressure exploded and Lando grunted at how tight you were. Your pussy gripped him like a vice as waves pleasure rocked you, the wave cresting into a flood as he kept rutting hard and fast, each thrust pushing the plug deeper in your ass.

Your screams fell silent as your entire body stiffened and then…utter bliss. You were weightless, floating, falling, spinning. Everything all at once. Your body didn’t know how to handle the ecstasy that coursed through your veins, the ecstasy that gushed from your cunt.

“Fucking hell, babygirl,” Lando moaned as he filled you with one last thrust. “What a mess.”

He chuckled as he pulled out of you, holding you spread for the camera so everyone could see his thick, creamy cum dripping from your abused hole before he pushed it back in with two fingers.

Soft whimpers and aftershocks rolled through you at the touch but it was the bigger gasp that cleared the daze when he pulled the plug from your ass.

“Gorgeous, babygirl. Fucking gorgeous.” Lando disappeared from the bed and skirted around the camera to your laptop. “Alright, pervs, goodnight.”

“You’re a perv,” you teased after the site was shut down.

“I’m a perv for you,” he corrected while swiping up a discarded Quadrant shirt. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and gently eased your legs open to clean up the mess he made. “I think I need a waterproof blanket.”

You smiled and tossed an arm over your face as exhaustion filled you. “I had the same thought.”

“Maybe I can come shopping with you,” he suggested as he picked up the plug and grinned at it. “You’re nearly ready to fit me.”

“Nearly,” you chuckled. “A little bit more practice first.”

Click here for SMAU.

[yuwuta]

HOW DID YOU GET USED TO THE HAUNTING, THE WILLING, THE MISSING, THE WANTING — YUUTA OKKOTSU

content, warnings. more of the knight yuuta universe yippee. i got an ask about telling him he’d make a good prince and flustering him, and that struck something in me, though this interpretation of that ask is probably a bit darker/more serious than envisioned... i will publish the ask w the other version of this scenario too. unfortunately for everybody involved i was a theater kid and i did listen to cell block tango and the first half of hamilton before i had this idea </3 i’m sorry if you can tell

more notes. set in the same universe as this drabble, which are all set in the same universe as a full fic draft i have and would love to finish some day lol. anyway, say hello to the gojo of this au 

You are not ready to be queen. As much as you resent your mother, your father, the elders in the cabinet, the system you were raised in—as much as you wish to be a ruler that creates change and peace in your court and kingdom, you know that you are not ready to hold that position. 

It shows now more than ever, with your parents being escorted to a neighboring kingdom for a meeting, and you in charge of the harvest ball. There is china to be chosen, silverware to be polished, candlesticks to be blessed, gowns to be sewn, a menu to be curated, a ballroom to be prepared—and you are sorely behind on all of your duties. 

A lackluster princess does not make for a promising queen. And distractions do not help you become anything of yourself. 

“I do not have time to discuss the lilies Sir Gojo. I am aware they are drooping and that they are your favorite, but I do not control the weather,” you sigh, handing back a scroll to a maid before turning to your head knight.

“That sounded very queenly, my little lady! You’ve been practicing,” he towers above you, with a growing smile and little care for your position. He bends forward to press the tip of his gloved pointer finger to your nose, “I too mourn the lilies, but I am afraid I agree: we have much more pressing matters to discuss. Come along, shall we?” 

You’ve learned to be wary of Sir Gojo’s words over the years. He often leads with a false timbre, or makes otherwise simple conversation into a riddle for his own amusement. Even as you’ve learned when to ignore his games, you’ve also grown appreciative of his light demeanor, and his insistence on speaking to you directly, rather than shielding you away. 

You take his arm, looping yours through his, and allow him to lead you down the courtyard steps and into the grand garden. You put your trust in him, allowing your feet to follow the path he sets, and letting your mind wander. You wonder whether you should set the gold or bronze-trimmed plates for the ball, if the curtains should remain closed or open, if the embossed or embellished silverware would leave a better impression on your guests. 

“Princess?” your knight calls for you. You focus your attention back to him, apologizing for your lapse in attention. 

You expect a smile, perhaps another press to your nose and a light scolding, but Gojo’s expression is much more neutral. “Sir?”

“I said that Lord Hajime is dead. His court will send a representative to the harvest ball, but how would you like to proceed?” 

“Dead?” your breath hitches momentarily, “Was he unwell?” 

“I do not know. The letter gave no detail. I believe the court sent an apology for not being able to deliver a suitor as promised. The family wishes to keep this private until after the harvest.” 

When you look up to him, you see no mischief in his expression. He’s serious, and you feel lightheaded, warm, and icy all at once. “I see,” you say, and pull away from Gojo’s arm, “Excuse me. I—I need a moment to myself.”

“You are sick? So suddenly?” Gojo asks, turning with your body so that his back is never to you.

“No—I… I… I need to be alone,” you confess, wrapping your arms around themselves, curling into your own body. Gojo stands firm, a short nod in understanding. He raises his hand to make a signal; an order for the knights on the periphery who can see but not hear. 

You smile, small, grateful for him. “Please, arrange our finest favors, and ask Ieiri for her favorite elixir.” 

Gojo’s smile reflects yours, albeit stained with more sympathy. “Of course.” 

“And tell the maids that I shall postpone the table placements until tomorrow morning. Should you find yourself with time to spare, let me know if you prefer the bronze to gold trim.” 

Gojo nods, taking a half-step to stand in front of you. In times like these, you feel like the little princess under his watch and care from when you were younger. His presence is frightening, overwhelming, and yet, more comforting and welcoming than your own parents. 

Carefully, he leans down to whisper, “Yuuta and his fleet have not yet returned, he will not be in the knight’s chambers. I will send him to you when he arrives.” You blink in sudden awe, and Gojo smiles, reaches for your hand and raises it to his lips to press a chaste kiss, “Do not regret too long, princess.” 

You hear him before you see him. It’s a bad habit for a knight, you think; you can always hear or feel where Yuuta is, even if you can’t see him. You think he ought to be more stealthy, more secretive, quieter; but then again, you don’t. He reserves plenty of stealth for his motives, stores plenty of secrets in his mind, keeps his words quiet or has a way of keeping other people’s quiet. 

The throne room is cold. It’s your least favorite room in the castle, but tonight, you hope it inspires you.

You don’t sit on your throne, you don’t sit on your mother’s or your father’s; you don’t sit at all. You stand, at the top of the stairs, staring at the seats and the tapestry and the paintings of your forefathers that decorate the backdrop. Behind you, at the base of the stairs, Yuuta kneels. You don’t need to see him to know; you can feel it on your palms with your hands behind your back; you can see it in the eyes of your grandfather’s portrait, you can hear it in the way his knee hits the carpet. 

“You may stand.” 

“I shouldn’t, my lady,” Yuuta replies, “Not here.” 

“You do many things you shouldn’t,” you sigh, steady, “Stand, Yuuta.” 

You hear the metal of his armor rustle against itself. You can feel when he stands; it feels like he’s right behind you, even though you know he’s ten steps below you. 

You inhale, slowly; exhale, slowly. Clench your hands behind your back, and then relax your shoulders the way you’ve seen your grandfather do. Then, you speak. “Lord Hajime is dead.” 

You turn, slowly, and wait until your cape has finished its turn, has settled behind you again before you speak again; a tactic your grandmother was fond of. “Lord Hajime is dead,” you repeat, “He is dead, and I asked you not to kill him.” 

Yuuta looks up to you. Neck craned, hands neatly behind his back, his helmet on the carpeted floor to his left. He does not look small. 

You take a step downwards. “I said this is not how I wanted matters to be resolved.” Another step down, a pause, then repeat, “I said that I do not wish to resort to violence.” Another step down, a pause, “To resort to murder.” Another step down, hurried, “I stood under my balcony,” another step, “and I told you not to murder Lord Hajime. I told you not to kill him,” another step; a pause, hysterical, “And yet Lord Hajime is dead. He is dead because—”

“I did not kill him.”

You pause your descent, four steps above Yuuta. You are only half a head taller than him like this. At this distance you can see the gray of his irises, wide and speckled with brown, without a shred of remorse pooling within them. It makes you sneer. 

“You expect me to believe that it is a coincidence that a fortnight after I catch you on your way to murder Lord Hajime, that he dies?” you question, rhetorical, “I am naive, but I am not a fool, Yuuta.” 

“You are no fool, my princess, and Lord Hajime was no saint,” Yuuta shakes his head, “He was a tyrant. He took three wives prior and treated them all as whores. He alone was responsible for the destruction of the crops in the north. He had only himself to blame.” Yuuta pauses, and you see something melt behind steely eyes. “It was a murder, yes, but not a crime.”

Yuuta’s lips wobble slightly, but the rest of him remains upright. It always goes like this: first his head, then his heart, then his body following—in everything he does. You blink, slowly, and take another step down; eye-level with Yuuta at this height. 

“You did not kill him,” you repeat, leveled with revelation, “You just gave the order.” 

Yuuta’s eyelids fall slowly, then his head follows in a shallow nod. He keeps his neck bent, keeps his head hung in front of you. You sigh. 

“Who was it this time,” you ask. He does not raise his head; you do not wait for him to speak, you dip your head so that your lips are level with his ears. “Megumi? Surely he would have hated the way Lord Hajime treated his livestock. Maybe Yuuji—he has been impatient to prove himself since recovering from his last injury. Or perhaps Toge, he would’ve done it swiftly in his sleep, without a sound.”

Yuuta keeps his gaze on the floor, keeps his words quiet. “Nobara.” 

“Dame Nobara, who strives to replace you as my first blade?” you question, “What, as some kind of test of loyalty to you?” 

Yuuta raises his head, eyes stern, brows drawn. “No, princess. To you.” 

You freeze. Your anger flares, and then subsides to only weak embers as you understand Yuuta’s motives, and Sir Gojo’s final words to you. You’re careful when you reach forward to brush your knuckle against Yuuta’s cold cheek, only the kiss of a touch between your finger and his face; even, still, he shudders, and you watch him melt from head to toe; from his eyebrows to his eyes to his lips to his shoulders to his knees. 

“You are disobedient, and indignant, and ruthless,” you list, voice soft, touch softer as you allow your fingers to graze the top of his ears, adoring the flush that follows, “And kind, and careful, and charming.”

You watch the color stain Yuuta’s cheeks and his ears, you revel in the pout on his lips, and the effort of his breathing. You only wish he were this easy to tame all the time. 

Still, he precious to you, so you are careful when you raise your opposite hand to his face, taking advantage of the difference in your status and stature to tilt his head upwards, lean down and press your words against his cheek, “You would make for a lovely prince,” you tell him, “The people would love you. Our enemies would fear you. The soldiers would respect you.” The kisses between your sentences are featherweight, trailed from the high point of his cheekbone to the corner of his lips.

You can feel him quiver when you pull back, moving a palm back to his cheek to pinch his skin between your thumb and forefinger, “If only you knew how to listen.” 

Yuuta winces, but he does not pull away. He parts his lips to steady his breath, and then to speak, strained, “Please, princess. Have mercy.” 

And for the first time in a fortnight you smile, watching splotched skin stain your knight’s cheeks when you soften your hold on him. You pull Yuuta’s head up further, lean yours down for a careful kiss; short, chaste, the kind you know he hates the most. 

“Oh, Yuuta,” you coo, grazing your thumb against his face, endeared by his wide eyes and quiet whimpers, “This is mercy.”

[calamarieater]

Daves ENTIRE PERSONALITY revolved around being just like Bro he never had the time to develop his own personality because from day ONE he wanted to be JUST like Bro he thought Bro was so cool to the point where he even ignored the abuse and just considered it normal, it's so common in abusive households for the abused kids to want to be JUST like their abusers because they've never seen like a normal household, and like most kids you tend to look up to your parents, which is what Dave was doing. Daves entire personality all his interests like everything were branched off from what Bro liked, he never got into things that Bro DIDNT like the only thing he didn't like was Bros puppets but dave wanted to be JUST like Bro he looked UP to him and people seem to completely ignore Bros abuse because of how dave reacted to it but ? what Bro does is still abuse and often when kids are introduced to abuse early in life they dont know that its abuse and they consider it normal which is why Dave reacted the way he did because he WASNT AWARE THAT IT WAS ABUSE WHICH IS NORMAL IN ABUSIVE HOUSEHOLDS AND ABUSED KIDS OFTEN THINK LIKE THAT which is why it comes off as such a SHOCK when you tell a kid they're being abused and whats going on isn’t normal and it seems like most of the fandom just ignores Daves abuse and everything and the fact that he never really developed his own personality until later on just because of the fact that he never really reacted or talked about it which annoys me SO badly I get its like hard to understand what abused kids are like and their bebehavior and stuff but!! you gotta understand like all his interests and everything came from Bro, his entire life until Sburb he wanted to be just like Bro he looked up to Bro so much to the point the abuse wasn't even something he considered abnormal because he thought Bro was just trying to help him be stronger and have a better reaction time or whatever but that's not what was going on and dave didn't know because he hadn't ever seen a normal household/this was his entire life this is what was normal to him so he considered it normal even compared to his friends lives, especially considering all the kids have semi abnormal lives other than john for the most part so dave was just convinced his life was normal because it was what he was used to and his friends also had odd home lives so he was just convinced that his life was the same gah I love Dave. I just think people should TRY and understand Dave’s character more, and it also just irks me how people see him as some flirty dude when thats not how he is, hes a wannabe cool-kid who has no idea how to behave and just mimics his Bros behavior!!! He WANTS TO BE JUST LIKE HIS BRO!!! HE SPENDS SO MUCH TIME TALKING ABOUT HOW COOL HE THINKS HIS BRO IS and you guys i swear he would NOT be a flirty little shit. He lives for bickering so he can come up with cool comebacks so people think “Wow this guy is REALLY fucking cool” when they're talking to him. So many of you guys seem to forget hes 13 in the beginning, his behavior is just a direct copy of how he saw Bro. He did not develop his own personality until later in life, and even then he still had a lot of Bros traits. Most kids dealing with abuse dont even know that its abuse until way late in life, because again, ITS ALL THEY KNOW!! If you lived your entire life not knowing what you were going through was abnormal, or even unhealthy, you would consider it as “the usual” WHICH IS WHY DAVE NEVER HAD A BIG REACTION TO IT, BECAUSE HE WAS SO USED TO IT. HE DIDNT KNOW IT WASNT NORMAL. Dave was a 13 year old boy dealing with an abusive father figure. From his interests to his personality, he just wanted to be like bro. that's all he wanted.

But, towards the end of his arc, we DO see him start to turn away from that desire to be like bro. We see him slowly realize, he isnt like bro. He doesnt want to be like bro. He isn't a "hero" like bro was, he doesnt WANT to be like bro was. But his entire childhood circled around being like bro, and it wasnt until bro died that he finally realized that wasn't what he wanted. But, as it wasn't until late in his life that he realized, he wasnt really able to form his own personality.

In conclusion: Dave is NOT some coolkid flirty boy, hes an abused child with no personality of his own. He is so much more than most of you guys let him be, and its so irritating to me.

[botchedsundoll]

very nice way of writing, I would like to make a request for a writing where the RE guys react when their partner asks them for a baby, they misunderstand it but their partner was talking about adopting a kitten, puppy or any animal, but they don't understand it until be a little late.

L. KENNEDY, C. REDFIELD, C. OLIVEIRA X READER (SEPARATE)

ೃ⁀➷ sypnosis; can we have a baby? hc’s

ೃ⁀➷ warnings; very very very slightly suggestive

ೃ⁀➷ author’s note; stair master is not 4 the weak, this is such a cute prompt!!! keep them coming, wuit nic cold turkey yiiikkkeeesss will i powerr thru yes i will

C. OLIVEIRA

surprisingly the most on board

but don’t get me wrong, he WILL be surprised - i’m talking eyes wide, lips parted as he simply stares at you for a moment

before simply asking an ‘are you sure?’

he’s a family man - you could say his dream was to start a family with you and have little rascals running around which resembled the pair of you

and so he simply grins, wraps his arms around you and latches his lips onto your neck - murmuring something about getting started already

‘getting started with what? carlos, i mean a damn pet!’

‘… a pet? even fuckin’ better!’

he’ll literally be more excited about the animal than the ‘kid’ - though he’s not opposed to having one by any means. would like to, actually

L. KENNEDY

eyes wide, jaw slack

literally just stares at you - blinking every so often whilst he processes the absolute out worldly request you’d made

don’t get me wrong, he loves you deeply. but a kid? he’s convinced you’d be a great parent, yet less convinced whether he’d be even good as a deadbeat

just imagine - leon sat there with his hands on his knees, jaw clenched, gripping the material as his mind wanders whilst you’re just sat there confused as hell as to how such a question could evoke so much emotion

‘… okay, if that’s what you want. but seriously, i don’t think im cut out for all the dad shit, i don’t want to disappoint you-’

‘leon, i mean a pet’

oh. his eyebrows furrow in confusion at your words, considering how convinced he was you wanted a kid.

he gets a little embarassed. he loves you dearly and wants nothing more to start a family with you, just can’t help but doubt his abilities at being able to do so. reassure him a lil, he’ll come around eventually

C. REDFIELD

definitely asked halfway throughout dinner

instantly stops chewing, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he simply stares at you

at this point, it’s been accepted by the whole fandom that he deffo has a breeding kink LMAO so like he’s not necessarily opposed to the idea - just rather confused by the suddenness of the question

you’d never expressed the slightest mention of wanting kids in the past, no baby videos, clothes, or anything

safe to say he’s a bit disoriented - and straight to the point

‘you wanna have a kid? now?’

‘no, i mean a pet. like an animal.’

okay so now he just embarrassed himself. mutters something about you not being specific enough before continuing on with his meal - not even answering the question anyways

you’ve now put the idea of a kid into his head. and once he feels comfortable enough with his job and everything else, he may or may not start hinting at a kid himself

[roll-for-gaslight]

While I think Sklonda is right to be critical of the Bad Kids and specifically Kristen, I think that a lot of the reason she did so is that she was missing a lot of context the other parents were given. We see in Freshman Year that she’s often given the information about their quests from Riz, several hours after the fact, and he shares clues with her rather than personal things. He doesn’t think the personal bits are what she cares about because, for him, that’s not the problem being solved. He’s happy with his friends and she only really would hear if one of them caused a problem. Her apartment isn’t a hangout like Seacaster Manor, Mordred Manor, the Thistlespring Tree, or even Gilear’s season one apartment were. By the nature of her being a single working mother in a difficult financial situation, she often was left out of extracurricular activities.

For example, Mordred is obviously a place filled with a lot of activity, and plenty of kids to give updates on said activity if something slips through the cracks of someone’s retelling. If Adaine leaves out a personal moment because she’s focused on the case, Fig or Kristen or even Ragh could fill in that blank, plus the fact that the other BKs spend a lot of time there means that Sandralynn, Jawbone, and Lydia are usually getting every side of every story. The Thistlespring Tree is where the Bad Kids go not just because it’s a nice place to spend time, but because it’s often directly tied into a plot or subplot! The power source in season one, the satellite in season two, and Gorgug’s artificer journey + the whole Frosty Faire thing going on now! Besides that, the Thistlesprings have raised Gorgug in a way that encourages open channels of communication about his emotions above all else, so he tells them what’s going on! Fabian’s parents over at Seacaster Manor haven’t been involved so much this season, but Bill Seacaster saw their bond from the start and taught them how to take care of each other and fight as a group, and Gilear has always been heavily involved in their adventures because all of the BKs have been emotionally invested in him as well!

Aside from that, she’s missing the context of actually being able to attend their quests like some other parents/guardians were able to in Sophomore Year! Gilear and Cathilda and Sandralynn all know things like the fact that everyone was worried about Riz and called him their little angel when he was gone and that Kristen saved him almost at the expense of her own life in the Nightmare King’s forest. She never sees them together, the way they’ll risk everything for each other when the chips are down, the way they all show they care in little ways all the time ( like Fig giving him the card or Fabian’s gifts in Freshman Year). She doesn’t understand that while “the Ball” may have come from a bully on the first day of school, it turned into a term of endearment! She doesn’t see how hard they’ve been trying this year to pass their classes and such, not because it matters to them, but because they know it’s important to Riz. He never even explained the whole needing scholarships thing to them! He showed up with folders on the first day, stressed out of his mind about all of them passing together, and basically decided to get their shit together! Sure, it took Kristen and Fig a little while to do it, but that’s because they were struggling to build better habits!

I also understand how she could think Riz does all of the heavy lifting: when he presents the clues to her and he’s their lead investigator, do you think she assumed other people did the finding? Absolutely not! She doesn’t see the way they put things together by focusing on their individual strengths; she only sees Riz trying to put it all together and find the connections. Why would she know that a lot of the investigative work was done by Adaine and Kristen in sophomore year because so much of it had to do with religion? She wouldn’t!

All this to say: Sklonda is a good mom for checking in with Riz, but she also has a narrow view of things that no one else has. If she were to be exposed to the BKs more often and actually pay attention to how things work between them, I think she would be much more understanding.

[tyuns-world]

⋆ ༘ Forbidden ⋆ ༘

Pairing: fem!reader x choi soobin x choi yeonjun

Genre: smut

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), threesome, stepcest

Summary: The tension between you and Yeonjun reaches a boiling point when he competes with your soon-to-be stepbrother, Soobin, for your attention at a party.

Wc: 2k

You knew what you were doing was utterly wrong. You knew he could hear you through the thin walls of your family's vacation home, but you didn't care. You needed to get off, and the thought of your brother's best friend, Yeonjun, hearing just made it all the more thrilling.

You even drew out some of your moans so he could hear better if he was listening in. Of course, he was. Yeonjun was on the other side of the wall, getting hard and riled up at your sounds. He cursed himself for even thinking about touching himself to this. You probably thought he was asleep, and it would be wicked to indulge in the lovely voice of his best friend's younger step-sister.

He was oblivious to your cunning plan. But after you moaned "Yeonjun," he couldn't take it anymore. He stripped himself of his boxers, his hand immediately gripping his leaking cock and stroking it. God, he could only imagine the dirty things you were doing to yourself, imagining it was him.

The morning after your lewd actions, you found yourself in the kitchen, making breakfast. It was just your step brother, his best friend, and yourself at the family vacation home, so it was practically every man for himself. Despite only the three of you staying there, the boys often threw wild parties during your stay, so you guys were never really alone with each other.

The second person to wake up and shuffle into the kitchen was none other than Yeonjun. A flush of embarrassment crept over you as you remembered your bold actions from last night. You silently prayed he had been asleep. "Morning," he said casually, and you hummed in response, trying to maintain a cool appearance.

"I think this place is haunted. I kept hearing moaning last night," Yeonjun teased as he casually raided the fridge for orange juice. Your eyes widened, and you tried to remain composed. Yeonjun was always teasing you, so you tried to convince yourself it was just his usual antics. "Ah, guess we should call the Ghostbusters," you retorted. It was a silly remark but the best you could come up with at the moment.

Yeonjun sauntered over to you, trapping you by placing his hands on either side of the counter. "I think I can deal with the ghost myself. I have something it needs," he murmured in a low, seductive voice, pressing his morning wood against your ass. He smoothly backed away just as your step brother entered the room, loudly yawning.

As you ate breakfast in silence, eyes scanning your respective phones, your step brother broke the quiet. "Oh right. That cute girl Yujin we met on the beach? Yeah, she's coming over with some of her friends, and we're gonna have a little get-together tonight." You huffed a bit, knowing that by "get-together," your step brother meant a rager.

As much as you loved parties, your step brother's were always loud and reckless. "Sweet," Yeonjun said, high-fiving your step brother. You rolled your eyes, and the action caught Yeonjun's attention. "You know, you can always stay in your room if you want," he suggested.

You scoffed at the idea—how could you possibly relax in your room with loud music and even louder people? "Yeah, well, how about I call the cops when I'm ready to enjoy my bed?" you threatened. "Binnie, your sister is being mean," Yeonjun pouted playfully, throwing his arms around soobin and acting hurt.

"Be nice to my friends, Y/N," your step brother Soobin played along. In reality, you and Soobin were practically strangers. Your mother had recently started dating his dad, and you'd only known your step brother for about a year.

This trip was supposed to be a bonding experience your parents had set up, but it felt more like they were tired of having two college kids disagree all the time and had kicked you out so they could honeymoon.

Your soon to be step brother didn't want to waste the trip, so of course, he brought his hot friend, Yeonjun, whom you'd been crushing on for ages. You all attended the same college, but you and Yeonjun were both music majors, so you saw him more often, which led to your hallway crush. You saw Soobin around sometimes when he was with Yeonjun. You even thought he was cute with his bunny like smile, but you disregarded that once your parents started dating.

The party was as loud as you thought it would be—get-together, your ass. You were a few drinks in, wearing a mini pink slip dress with a sweetheart neckline and lace trimming on the top and bottom. It was very flattering against your brown skin tone, and a lot of guys seemed to think so, as you kept getting hit on. Soobin, playing the overprotective brother, shooed them off with a stern "That's my stepsister."

You were a bit grateful for his protective act; the only guy you wished would flirt with you was Yeonjun, who was busy trying to charm a pretty girl across the room. You sighed at the sight and headed to the kitchen to refill your drink.

Your refill was interrupted when someone cleared their throat behind you. "You know I can't scare them all off if you wear clothing like that," Soobin remarked, gesturing toward your outfit. You rolled your eyes. "It's a cute dress, and I'm not asking you to do this," you replied. Soobin was obviously tipsy, leaning against the fridge for balance.

"You know, I thought you were cute when I used to see you around the halls," he admitted. You froze. "Me and Yeonjun had a bet... ah, I actually shouldn't talk about it," Soobin said, taking another swig from his drink. Your curiosity piqued. "So, you guys made a bet?" you asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Well, we bet on who'd get you first. Guess I lost, huh," he said, raising an eyebrow and smirking. You found the action unexpectedly attractive and quickly dismissed the thought. Soobin was admittedly attractive; he looked like a lead in a romance drama. But he was about to be your stepbrother, and that bridge was burning.

You two gazed intensely at each other, the air thick with unspoken tension, until a voice broke the spell. "Hope I'm not interrupting," Yeonjun said from the doorway. "Soobin was just telling me about a bet you guys had," you replied playfully, turning your attention to him. "Oh, I thought that was dropped since I'm obviously winning," Yeonjun said, grabbing your waist, pulling you in front of him, and resting his chin on your shoulder.

The sudden closeness made your heart race. Soobin pushed himself off the fridge and walked over to the two of you. "Who decided that?" he challenged, his competitive nature flaring up. Yeonjun had clearly riled him. You stood there, flustered by the situation. 

"How about we decide that right now?" Yeonjun murmured, holding you tighter and placing kisses along the side of your neck. You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access. "See? She wants me. She even moaned my name all last night," Yeonjun said cockily.

You were melting, powerless against his touch. You'd wanted this for so long, and you didn't want him to stop. Soobin stepped in front of you, trailing a finger up your thigh and under your dress. You let out a deeper moan when he made contact with your inner thigh.

"Well, you couldn't make her sound like that," Soobin taunted, egging Yeonjun on. You knew this was wrong—not only were you being touched provocatively by two guys in the kitchen where anyone could walk in, but one of those guys was your almost-stepbrother.

"Guys, we shouldn't do this out in the open," you warned as Yeonjun went from kisses to biting and sucking on your neck, while Soobin's hand trailed dangerously close to your panties. "Are you getting embarrassed now?" Yeonjun whispered in your ear, causing you to shudder with pleasure.

Soobin, not liking your attention being drawn away from him, traced circles on your already wet panties. You arched into Yeonjun at the sensation. The loud chants of "chug, chug, chug" from the party brought you all back to reality. "Maybe we should move this elsewhere," Soobin suggested, removing his hand.

Yeonjun quickly glanced around, making sure no one was watching before he took your hand and led you towards your room, with Soobin following closely behind. As you entered, Soobin clicked the door locked behind him. The noise from the party became a distant hum, your focus now entirely on the two boys.

"So, how about I have fun with Y/N here and you guard the door?" Yeonjun suggested to Soobin, pulling you into a kiss. Soobin scoffed at the suggestion, walking up to the two of you and positioning himself behind you, rubbing his erection against you. You moaned into Yeonjun's mouth, pressing your ass further against Soobin.

Yeonjun's hands roamed over your body, sliding down to the hem of your dress and lifting it slightly, turning the kiss more desperate and passionate. Soobin's hands traced the contours of your waist, moving up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your dress. His touch was warm, leaving you wanting more.

"You're so sexy," Yeonjun murmured against your lips, his voice laced with desire. He nibbled on your lower lip before trailing kisses along your jawline.

"He's not the only one who thinks so," Soobin whispered in your ear. His hot breath against your skin made you whimper.

You had never experienced such intense pleasure before, and it made your head spin. Soobin's hands continued their exploration, one sliding over your dress to caress your breast, gently squeezing and teasing your nipple through the fabric. A loud moan escaped your lips. You found yourself tracing the contours of Yeonjun's chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt.

"Let's take this to the bed," Soobin suggested, his voice low and filled with anticipation. Yeonjun nodded, breaking the kiss to lead you towards the bed. Soobin followed, his hands never leaving your body. Yeonjun quickly lost his shirt and unzipped his pants, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine.

"Looks like I go first," Yeonjun said playfully, laying there half-naked. "I don't think so," Soobin replied, still standing over the bed with you in front of him. He slid his hand up your thigh and into your panties, pushing them to the side as his fingers entered you.

The wet, intimate sound of your arousal, a soft squelch, filled the room as he did so.

Yeonjun chuckled but relished in the sight of your face twisted with pleasure. He crawled over to the edge of the bed where you were being fingered and dropped the straps of your dress, revealing your breasts. He began teasing them with his tongue. Your moans grew louder, and your pussy became wetter as you were overcome with the sensations.

Soobin started sucking on your neck, determined to leave more marks than Yeonjun. You couldn't handle all the pleasure and came all over Soobin's fingers with a loud moan.

"Aw, naughty girl," Soobin taunted. "You've ruined poor Binnie's fingers; they're all soaked," Yeonjun continued, gently parting your lips as Soobin put his fingers inside. "Suck," they commanded in unison. It was hot, and you obeyed, sucking Soobin's fingers clean of your slick.

"That's a good girl," Soobin cooed. Yeonjun moved out of the way as Soobin bent you over the bed, flipping the bottom of your dress up. His hard-on was very evident as he pressed it against your now-exposed ass. "Tsk tsk, don't get greedy now, Binnie. She already graced you with her cum all over your fingers," Yeonjun said. Soobin raised his hands in defeat and moved from behind you, letting Yeonjun take his spot. Yeonjun shoved your panties down and pushed his thick cock inside you. 

Your arms almost buckled under you from how big he was. Yeonjun started fucking into you slowly at first, but with your repeated moans, he couldn't contain himself and began slamming messily into you.

Your moans grew louder, and your arms gave out, but Yeonjun held you up, keeping his pace. "Yeonjun, I can't take it. It's too big," you whimpered, the pace and his cock leaving your body weak.

"You can take it." he reassured you in your ear. You glanced over to Soobin, who was positioned across from you two, jerking himself off at the sight of you. Eyes half-open, fully naked, his red needy cock was in full view.

You mustered the strength to rely on your arms again, sitting up a bit. You made a come-here motion to Soobin, and he obliged. You opened your mouth to suck him off, but he was already two steps ahead and grabbed your hair, shoving his cock in your mouth. Soobin did all the work, rolling and thrusting his dick into your mouth. 

As Soobin thrust into your mouth, you felt a surge of arousal coursing through you.

The sensation of being filled from both ends sent waves of pleasure through your body. Yeonjun's relentless pounding combined with Soobin's forceful thrusting left you in a blissful daze. 

Your moans became muffled around Soobin's cock, the sound vibrating against him, driving him wild. He gripped your hair tighter, urging you to take him deeper.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun maintained his unforgiving pace, his grip on your hips firm as he drove himself deeper into you. As your body was on the edge of climaxing once again, you felt Soobin's cock twitching in your mouth, a sign that he was close.

Sensing his impending release, you redoubled your efforts, sucking him eagerly, wanting to taste his cum. 

With a loud moan, Soobin reached his peak, his hot seed spilling into your mouth. You swallowed, savoring the taste of him as he rode out his orgasm. Yeonjun was close to his own climax; his pace grew sloppier, more needy with each thrust. With a final, powerful thrust, he was sent over the edge, pulling out to spill all over your back. His cries of pleasure mingled with Soobin's sounds of release.

Soobin gently pulled himself out of your mouth, collapsing onto the bed, his body glistening with sweat. Yeonjun planted a tender kiss on your neck before withdrawing.

"I think she said my name more times than you," Soobin teased, As Yeonjun wiped you clean with his own shirt. "No way in hell she enjoyed taking my dick much more than sucking yours," Yeonjun retorted, patting your ass as he finished and pulled your dress down.

"Is that so? She sure seemed happy enough to swallow my whole load," Soobin retorted, causing Yeonjun to scoff. He quickly redressed himself and threw Soobin's clothes at him. "We've deprived the party of its best guest long enough." 

You grabbed a fresh pair of panties from your dresser and slipped on a new dress, taking a moment to touch up your makeup in the mirror.

"Yeonjun, there's a shirt that should fit you in my bottom drawer," you said, leaving the room and stepping back into the wildness of the party.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: Ellie's in your house again

"Ellie," You say," What are you doing?"

She swears, jumping out of her skin and dropping the frying pan to the ground. "Jesus Christ," She gasps in her stupid accent," What are you doing here, kiddo?"

"This is my house," You reply," What are you doing here?"

Ellie's your Mamma's new girlfriend. Before her was Beth when you lived in England and now that you're in France, it's Ellie. You don't really know how you feel about Ellie just yet.

She makes Mamma happy, that's true, but she's in your house too often for your liking and the sting of Mamma's breakup with Beth is still a little too fresh in your mind.

"I slept round," Ellie says, bending to pick up the dropped frying pan and place it on the stove," And now I'm making breakfast."

You stare at her in suspicion before nodding. "Cool," You say," I'm going to see Mamma."

Ellie catches your arm before you can leave and you frown at her.

"Daan's still asleep," She says," Don't wake her up, kid."

Mamma always tells you not to do exactly what other people say without getting something out of it yourself so you cross your arms over your chest.

"What do I get if I don't?"

Ellie groans and you pull your arm away and take a firm step towards Mamma's closed door.

"Hey! No, wait! Wait! I'll...er...You like pancakes? I can make you pancakes."

You think about it for a minute.

"With syrup?"

"With syrup."

"Okay."

You hopped up onto one of the seats at the kitchen island and waited, just staring.

It was clear that Ellie didn't really know what to do with you. She had never really interacted with you on her own. You were Daan's kid and she was Daan's new girlfriend. It was only right that you seemed a little aloof around her.

You were older now than Ellie knew you were when you had interacted with Daan's previous girlfriends. You had your own opinions now and, clearly, one of these opinions was that you didn't really enjoy this veritable stranger in your house.

"Is it hot all the time in Australia?" You ask suddenly.

Ellie begins to mix her batter. "No, not always. It gets cold in the winter like everywhere else."

You made a noncommittal noise and reached out for some of the fruit in the fruit bowl. "Did you have a girlfriend before my Mamma?"

"I did."

"But Mamma's better." It wasn't a question and you bite into your apple as you kick your legs in boredom, sparing a look back at Mamma's closed door.

"Er...yeah," Ellie replies, finally putting the first of her batter into the pan," I guess you can put it like that. Me and your Mamma just fit better."

"Mamma and Beth used to fit," You say," Before we left and they argued. I'm not Beth's baby so they can't share me like my friends who have divorced parents get shared."

Ellie doesn't quite know how to respond to that as she plates up a pile of pancakes for you and a pile of pancakes for Daan.

"Mamma and Beth argued and argued and I never got to see them because they didn't like letting me see them angry. People who used to fit don't always end up fitting properly."

"I-I'm not trying to take Daan from you," Ellie says eventually. She's not looking at you but she's stopped plating up food to talk. "Look, kiddo, I'm dating your Mamma. And I don't plan on breaking up anytime soon." She turns around to look at you. "I understand that this is new to you and you're probably still a little hung up about Mead but I'm not going anywhere and neither of you. Can we just coexist?"

You stare at her for a moment before standing. You're not very tall for your age but it doesn't stop you from walking like your Ellie's height, sidling up next to her and scraping the pancakes meant for Daan onto your plate.

"Mamma doesn't like pancakes for breakfast," You tell Ellie," She has gross yoghurt and oats and some cut-up fruit." You reach for the squeezy bottle of syrup. "It's in the fridge."

Ellie looks at you in disbelief. You've somehow smuggled all of the pancakes onto your plate even though it was meant to be split between you and Daan.

"She likes the chocolate protein shake better than the mango one!" You also repeat before scampering off to wait by Daan's door.

You don't enter without Ellie but once she opens the door, you've bolted over to Daan.

"I was nice," You announce to your Mamma, who sits up in bed wide awake and looking like she had been for a while now," Promise."

Ellie slides back into bed on your other side, forcing you in the middle of them as she passes Daan her breakfast bowl. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to catch y/n watching you from the hallway," Daan replies," And long enough to send her in to bond with you."

"Didn't bond," You insist through a mouthful of food," Just talked."

Daan smiles fondly at you, collecting some of the syrup from your plate with a finger and sticking it into her mouth. "Of course," She says," Because you're too cool to bond with your Mamma's new girlfriend."

You shrug but then quietly admit," Ellie made me pancakes. I guess she's kind of cool sometimes."

For some reason, that makes Ellie feel more proud and triumphant than any Champion's League medal ever could. She feels smug which Daan definitely spots from the way that she rolls her eyes.

"Cool enough to join us at the park today?"

You begrudgingly sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On the discussions of leadership and leona finding fulfillment in the future, i’ve always found the times he’s stood out most in twst to be when he is mentoring someone. Subtly, never giving people answers but guiding them towards them, using language and examples they understand. We see it with ruggie, jack, jamil, all of savannaclaw and so many other characters.

which gets me thinking: what if leona becomes a teacher? he’d get the acknowledgment for his skills and ability he needs, but also be able to help improve sunset savanna by educating and equalizing the playing field for the next generation.

Ruggie’s dream got me thinking about it and now i can’t get it out of my head as a possible route to where he can get the things he ultimately needs to thrive.

Relevant posts: [ Does Leona need to be king to be happy? / Would Leona be a better king that Falena? / Catching up with him in book 7 ] [My thoughts on the book 7 part 11 Leona update is here!]

I agree that Leona tends to shine when he’s in a leadership or mentorship role to younger students! This occurs multiple times over, both in main stories (notably book 2, 3, 6, and 7), vignettes (his Camping Gear, Epel’s Union Jacket, etc.), and various voice lines (typically from younger students remarking on their admiration for him). He's actually really good at explaining things to others in a simplistic enough way and with realistic examples that slot neatly into their worldviews. I don't know that I would call it "subtle" though, there have definitely been times where Leona just outright tells others what to do or what's wrong with their way of thinking (mainly with Jamil in book 6, or ordering around his fellow magift/spelldrive team members). I think when you say "subtle", it's more like Leona has a way of leading others to acting in his favor, as he can occasionally have his own ulterior motives in imparting wisdom. (For example, he helps out the first years with mining for magestones so he can nap without being disturbed.)

Mmmm… I do think the idea of Leona as a teacher is interesting, but I don’t know if that would feasibly work. I think we as the players can appreciate, say, the NRC staff, but in reality teaching is often a thankless job (though it’s a respected profession in Japan) where parents and/or the school board will blame you for students not performing. You also need to put in several (unpaid) hours of work outside of class grading, preparing lessons, going to meetings, etc. I don’t know that he would be satisfied with “grunt work” like that. I think he’d also have to go back to get his masters/teaching license, which means more studies 💀

I also think the scale of teaching is too small for Leona’s ideals. Yes, technically your lessons will have a continuous or long-term impact because your students might then graduate and go on to change the world thanks to your teachings. But, in my opinion, it better suits his grand ambitions to be the one establishing schools and then leaving others to run those institutions for him; he’d have a much larger impact (and more immediate results, which is what Leona is after) that way, similar to how it is portrayed in Ruggie’s dream. A single teacher, by comparison, can do little to change the system for the countless people who need it (for example, the starving children in the slums). Additionally, it’s easier for Leona to control his own projects as some higher authority, whereas it’s not do easy for him to control what students do once they leave his tutelage—and for Leona, bring in command is important (he had no vice dorm leader because of this).

I also have to wonder if teaching is really the right field for Leona to get into…? I think people often confuse “being good at something” with “liking something”. This is also true of many fandom depictions of Leona; fans tend to claim he’s just “being tsundere” when he acts grumpy around his juniors other nephew Cheka and that he secretly harbors great love for kids. And while I do love me a wholesome take, I just don’t see that 💦 His official profile states his pet peeve is “dealing with kids”; why would objective information from an official profile be a lie? His annoyance seems pretty consistent and genuine when he is assigned some kind of babysitting-adjacent task, and he acts like he would rather not if given the choice but has to anyway in order to avoid graver consequences for himself, a dorm leader. I don’t think he would want to intentionally sign up for a job that means he has to put up with kids on a daily basis—and especially rebellious teenagers that won’t necessarily do what he tells them to.

I guess the comparison you could make here is Crewel, who also seemed to be wild in his youth and also seems to dislike children and disobedience—yet somehow he changed careers from fashion designer to science professor. He had a lot in common with Leona, so I think it could be argued that Leona could still potentially go down the teacher path. If I recall correctly, Leona has also tutored Ruggie and helped him achieve okay grades in present day—so Leona has a track record with teaching. We don’t know for sure what could happen; a lot can change and the future’s unpredictable! But for now, I definitely still think Leona’s ambitions wouldn’t stop at just teaching classes; he’d want to do way more.

… Imagine the insanity of having a literal big-boobed PRINCE as your professor though 💀 I don’t know if I would be able to concentrate properly in that lecture…

[lecsainz]

remind me

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: childhood friends, adorable young charles, lorenzo and arthur being such 'wonderful' brothers.

authors note: i listened charles' new song and oh my god, it's PERFECT! i absolutely loved writing this, especially because the leclerc family appears in it and i mentioned the lyrics from 'those eyes'

word count: 1.2K

Charles and Y/N had met when they were children, as their parents were good friends. They would often play together at family gatherings and quickly became close friends.

One day, as they were playing in the backyard, Charles and Y/N sat down on a swing set to catch their breath. Charles turned to Y/N with a shy smile and asked, "Mon petit chou* do you want to be my girlfriend?" Y/N giggled and nodded, and from that day on, they were inseparable. *my little cabbage

Even though they were just children, Charles' brothers Arthur and Lorenzo would tease him about his crush on Y/N. But Charles didn't care, he knew that he had found someone special in Y/N and he would do anything to make her happy.

Years had passed since their childhood and one night, they found themselves lost in a crowd, laughing and he had just returned from a formula 2 race so they having the time of their lives. Despite the exhaustion and stress from the competition, being with Y/N made everything feel right. 

Y/N looked up at Charles and gave him a smile that made his heart skip a beat. her. "I missed you," she said, leaning into him.

Charles pulled her in close, his hand resting on the small of her back. "Me too," he replied, his voice filled with emotion and wrapping his arms around her. "You always make everything better mon petit chou." he whispered, using the french endearment he often called her.

Y/N blushed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "You always know how to make me feel special," she said softly.

Charles leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "It's easy when it comes to you," he whispered. 

As the night wore on, they found themselves getting lost in the music and the moment. When they finally made their way back to Charles' apartment, they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies intertwined.

Y/N looked up at Charles, her eyes filled with love. "I'm so lucky to have you," she whispered.

Charles kissed her forehead. "No, I'm the lucky one," he said. "Tu es la lumière de ma vie*." he whispered, using one of his favorite romantic French phrases to express his love for her. *you are the light of my life

Over time, Charles and Y/N became even more connected, their love growing stronger with each passing day. Even in the small moments, they found joy in each other's company.

Whether they were sharing a meal, taking a walk, or simply holding hands, they knew that they had something special. And even when they were apart, they always found a way to stay close.

"I miss you," Y/N would say when they were apart.

"I miss you too, mon amour." Charles would reply. "But all I have to do is close my eyes and I can see your smile."

And in those small moments, they were reminded of why they had fallen in love in the first place. All of the small things that they did for each other were what made their love so strong.

As they lay in couch together, Charles looked at Y/N with adoration in his eyes. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said.

Y/N smiled, her heart overflowing with love. "And you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she replied.

Charles grinned back at her, taking her hand in his. "I still can't believe we met when we were just kids. Do you remember when we were kids and I asked you to be my girlfriend?" Charles asked with a smile, looking at Y/N.

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course I remember, Char. You were so shy and nervous, it was adorable."

"I was not!" Charles protested, grinning.

Y/N laughed, remembering how shy and awkward they had been around each other at first. "Yeah, we were quite the pair of dorks, weren't we?"

Charles chuckled, "Speak for yourself. I was a suave seven-year-old."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, "Right, and I was a sophisticated six-year-old."

They both laughed, reminiscing about their childhood memories. It was then that Arthur and Lorenzo, Charles' younger and older brothers, burst into the room.

"Hey guys!" Arthur exclaimed, running up to give his brother a hug.

Lorenzo smiled at Y/N. "Nice to see you again, Y/N."

Y/N returned the smile. "Nice to see you too, Lorenzo. How have you been?"

"Can't complain," he replied, taking a seat next to them. "So, what are you guys up to?"

Charles shrugged. "Just talking about old times."

Arthur perked up. "Oh, I love those stories! Do you guys remember the time when we-"

"Lunch is ready!" Pascale's voice interrupted from the kitchen.

Y/N stood up. "I'll help you set the table, Pascale."

As they walked towards the kitchen, Pascale smiled warmly. "You know, Charles was always talking about you even before you two started dating. He couldn't stop talking about this wonderful girl he had met."

Charles chuckled. "I couldn't help it. I was so smitten with her."

Y/N looked at him lovingly. "And I was smitten with you too."

Lorenzo rolled his eyes playfully. "You two are so mushy."

Arthur grinned. "Yeah, can we talk about something else now? Like how Charles almost crashed during that one race?"

Charles groaned. "Thanks for bringing that up, Arthur."

Everyone laughed, enjoying the lighthearted moment together. As the laughter died down, Y/N took a moment to soak in the love and warmth of Charles' family. She felt grateful to have been welcomed into their home with open arms. "Y/N," Lorenzo spoke up again. "Do you remember that time when Charles was trying to impress you on the go-kart track and it was your first time driving one? He was pushing you so hard that he ended up crashing into you and freaking out."

Y/N laughed at the memory. "Oh my god, yes! I remember thinking 'is Charles trying to kill me?' But then he was so apologetic and worried that I couldn't even be mad at him."

Arthur chimed in, "I remember Charles coming back to us after the accident, freaking out and asking 'is she okay? Is she hurt?' And we was like, 'she's fine, you're the one who needs a hug right now'." Y/N and Lorenzo burst out laughing.

Charles rolled his eyes, but a small smile played on his lips. "I was trying to impress you, okay? I guess I failed miserably."

"Not miserably," Y/N said, reaching for his hand. "It was cute."

They shared a sweet moment, lost in their own little world while the Leclerc family watched on with fondness. 

Charles smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "You think so?" he asked, his eyes shining with happiness.

Y/N nodded. "Definitely. It showed how much you care about me."

"I do care about you, ma belle" Charles said earnestly. "More than anything in the world."

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion at his words. She knew she felt the same way about him. And in that moment, they knew that they would always be there for each other, through the good times and the bad. Because all of the small things that they did for each other were what reminded them why they had fallen in love in the first place.