#you can NOT make an older man and have me NOT want him your honor

[jun-hannie]

18+/mdi

popular friend!Chan x fem!reader

drabble: friends2lovers, teasing, smut, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of seungcheol & mingyu, penetrative sex, fingering(f receiving), dry humping, nipple play(f receiving), fluff

wc: 2k

a/n: happy birthday dino !! a little drabble in honor of the future of kpop mr. lee chan ! i hope you enjoy reading, i plan on writing more in the future !

The smell of the book will always make you swoon; a swoon that is romantic but few could recognize. Chan clears his throat from next to you, breaking your focus. You look up to him, raising your head from the table.

“Can I help you?” You sigh aloud, to which he quirks a brow in return. His facial expression is enough for you to know that he is judging you, but nothing too serious. 

“Please let me enjoy this book for once.” You say, lowering your head back to the book once again.

“Are you reading or are you about to eat it?” Chan laughs. 

“I imagine you probably have a party to get ready to host later, so you should start leaving now.” 

At the moment, you were trying to enjoy your latest read in between your homework. Until your friend from high school, Chan, spotted you and decided to annoy the hell out of you where he finds some kind of childish pleasure from.

You and Chan met in your sophomore year of high school after your teacher placed you next to him for the rest of the year. Chan went from being a nerdy, awkward, and the kid to an obnoxious, rowdy, and popular person in a span of a few months. However, whenever around you, he toned down and wouldn’t tease as much as you have barely changed, maybe aside from your looks. Chan grew into his face which later would come in handy to his college years, specifically the ones where he would spend at the same school as you. 

Everyone around you assumed you were an older sister to Chan due to his obedience and his shift when you were around. As much as you wanted to get away from the limelight that followed Chan, you were unable to lose the reign of the bubbly dinosaur that trailed around you. Chan being in a frat was predicted by you but you still strayed away from the party life that Chan was practicing. Something Chan didn’t mind too much. 

“You’re right, I do actually.” Chan nodded as he stretched his arms, not appearing to get up anytime soon. “But I don’t want to leave you on your own yet. You know since its January, it gets darker way sooner, so I’d rather walk you back to your dorm before I head over to the house.”

“It’s okay, my friend is coming by to walk with me,” You start, seeing Chan’s shoulders sit back at the mention of another person.

“Don’t worry, it’s Ellie.” You laugh.

“I don’t particularly like Elliana, you know.” Chan argues.

The discomfort that is shared between Ellie and Chan is that Ellie is a party girl and always turns up at his parties, where she would later snitch to you about the different array of girls he would kiss and sneak off with. It’s not something that you were a fan of hearing as Chan was an old friend to you, but it gave you something to tease him later about.

“I know, but she just told me about the red head she saw you tangling your hands into.” Chan’s ears turn red at the mention of another girl he messed around with. 

“We didn’t even do anything. I don’t understand why she even tells you. It’s really none of her business in the first place.” He frowns deeply, reminding you of his younger self making you laugh. 

“It’s funny to see how you react, besides I don’t even care so don’t feel embarrassed. You should be more worried about catching something in the long run.” You comment and Chan looks down.

“Well that’s one way to kick a man out of a library.” He says dryly. “I’ll see you, Y/N. Don’t be a party pooper from the comfort of your dorm.” 

Chan’s comment has you thinking of something else to tease him with but Ellie springs up beforehand. 

“Hi Chan, or should I say man-whore?” Ellie says, smiling enough for 10 people. 

“Ugh, please don’t come later on, Elliana.” Chan practically begs to which Ellie laughs.

“Don’t say that Channie, or else I won't bring my hot friends.” Ellie retorts.

Chan looks uncomfortable with Ellie’s comment and instead turns around and leaves without another word. 

“Hm, usually when I say that he basically jumps for joy at the thought of another hot girl entering his premise.” Ellie says, plopping next to you.

“Really? He always acts like girls are not of interest to him. At least to me, I guess.” You say, closing your book, it wasn’t being read anyways. 

Ellie doesn’t respond, simply leaving a satisfied smile.

“Alright, we can go to the dorm.” You say getting up fixing your shirt correctly.

“Woo, let’s go!” Ellie nearly shouts, having you slap your hand over her mouth. 

“Too loud?” Ellie squeaks, and you nod.

— At The Dorm —

“Green or red?” Ellie asks, wearing a fitted red dress and hold a green one next to her. She spins around to show you.

You examine both dresses from your bed. 

“Red, it has a sexiness to it.” You smile at her, dropping your eyes back to your phone. Chan sent a text asking about hanging out with him and his mom when she comes down to visit.

“Perfect!” Ellie smiles, running her hands down her body approvingly. 

You respond to Chan and go back onto Instagram where you see people you go to school with posting pictures and videos from parties, some of which you can see Chan chatting with different girls. You sigh as you feel FOMO from the pictures alone. Although you don’t like parties, there was something about seeing Dino having fun with other girls that made you feel like you were missing out on a part of him that everyone else got to see. Who was this person that Chan was hiding from you? Was he embarrassed of you?

“Can-uh Can I go to the party with you, Ellie?” You ask suddenly.

Even Ellie is caught off guard from your question and responds with a loud “Huh?”

“I just haven’t really gone to any parties as of recent so I felt like I was kind of missing out. I just wanted to go to one.” You ramble and Ellie’s faces lights up.

“Of course! Get ready, and then head to my room when you’re done! A couple of us are going to be pregaming before we go!” 

At that, you start brushing out your hair. You had makeup done already so there was only a little to be touched up, a little darker than usual. Then you shimmy into a black tight dress that you bought for parties, but has been rarely used. It falls barely above your butt.

You wander over to Ellie’s dorm room where there is loud music blaring already. You knock and Ellie rumbles out giggling, “WOO, COME TAKE A SHOT!”

You don’t question anything, and before you know it you’ve had 3 shots and are heading over to Chan’s frat house in the freezing cold without a coat. Not that you needed one, you couldn’t feel the snow.

The frat house is spilling with people already and you follow behind the rest of the girls. Already tipsy, you don’t look too out of place, but you still feel a little awkward. 

The inside is dark, which makes you feel a little more comfortable while your eyes scan to find a specific person. 

Ellie rushes over and suddenly hands you a red solo cup. “Drink this!” She shouts, which is loud even with the deafening music.

“What is it?” You ask, looking up from the cup, only for her to be gone already. 

Normal instincts are not in use as you take a long sip of the disgusting drink. It nearly makes you gag it up and it burns as it runs down your throat, but you feel lighter.

You pass by a few guys and stop when one of them stands in front of you, stopping you from leaving. 

“Hi, I’m Seungcheol.” The guy with the big arms smiles at you. You instinctively smile back. Before you could muster up a response, a large hand snakes around your waist and pulls you in.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N” Chan suddenly says, and you realize that Chan is the one with his arm around you. If you were sober, you probably would’ve pushed him away by now, but now your face just feels hot. 

“I thought she was, like, your sister or something?” One of the guys says, must taller than the others. 

“Gyu, shut up. No, this is my friend.” Chan asserts, but you can tell he is a little tipsy himself based on his awkward demeanor and reaction.

Before any of the guys could respond, Chan whisks you away to the other side of the room, where dozens of people are dancing drunkenly. 

“What are you doing here? I almost didn’t believe it was you until I saw Ellie with you.” Chan says quickly.

The drink must’ve hit faster than you thought because now your thoughts are all jumbled and all you can think about is how hot Lee Chan is. 

“I wanted to see how you act without me.” You pout, something that is completely out of the ordinary for you. Chan, clearly surprised by your response, laughs.

“Oh, did you? Well, you can’t know if you’re already drunk” Chan says, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes. 

“Aw, can you please show me?” You look like you’re about to cry.

“Hey, woah woah. It’s okay, You’re okay, come with me.” Chan says, his hands trying to comfort you, with your sudden explosion of sadness. 

Chan grabs a hold of your hand and you follow him upstairs. A shout from below comes from Ellie, “WOO GO CHAN! GET YOUR DREAM GIRL!”

You swing your head from Ellie back to Chan, “Who is your dream girl?”

Chan shakes his head, but doesn’t respond, so you stare at the back of his head where his ears are a dark red. You feel yourself sober up from a revelation that has your hands sweating.

Chan pulls you into a room that he turns the light on in, you assume it’s his room. You’ve never been to his room, but you feel like you’re spinning so you don’t think too much.

Chan has you sit on the bed with the dark blue sheets. “This is such a boy bed.” You comment.

“Well I am a boy.” Chan says, smiling.

“What are we doing here? Is this what you’re like at all your parties?” You ask, clearly confused. 

“No, I’m not. I don’t want you to see me like that because I’m not fun.” Chan says, handing you a water bottle, a little warm from sitting on his nightstand for however long. “Just stay here for a little bit to sober up, I think you have a really low tolerance.”

“But, I want to see how everyone sees you. I only see you as the cute, sweet, awkward boy who is sometimes annoying.” You explain and he listens thoroughly.

“I don’t want you to think of me like how Ellie does. If you don’t see me like that, then I’ll still be that sweet guy to you. I’d like to keep a good reputation, you know.” Chan says, smiling. 

“So are you really a man-whore?” You ask, slurring your words a little.

Chan just laughs at your bluntness. “Drink up.”

Taking another sip of water you just look at Chan and maybe it was the alcohol, but you couldn’t stop smiling at him. Hoping to not want to creep him out, you suddenly drop the smile.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you swoon at how gentle he is. It was like a light you haven’t seen him in and it was so warm. Chan was so warm.

“You smell like a book.” You blurt out.

“What?” Chan asks, about to laugh.

“You smell like a book right now. Don’t worry, I like the way books smell.” You explain, looking straight at his collar bones that were peaking from his black tee shirt.

Before Chan can respond, you lean in and smell his neck. While not something that was intentionally sexual, Chan tenses up at the action.

You sit back and look at him. Chan is no longer smiling, the look on his face is the most serious it’s ever been. 

“I’m sorry, I had a get a better smell.” You explain, looking at your clammy hands. 

Suddenly, Chan lifts your chin and kisses you. It's a soft and gentle kiss, but you melt into it. Before you can properly kiss back, he is already pulling away. Your eyes flutter open and the outer parts of his face are reddening.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just ruined everything. I know you probably see me as a brother and now I’ve just made this so awkward. Please just forget-” 

You cut him off and instead shut him up with a kiss. It’s a little sloppy, immature, and awkward, but that's how you both were. Chan starts to kiss back after a moment of surprise and starts to lead.

Chan’s hands place their place on your cheek and neck, respectably, before he pushes his body closer to yours.

You gasp when you feel his chest touching yours and he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He explores your mouth, moaning to each of your reactions that felt like too much for him. 

You find your hands on his chest, fingers dancing their way down to the hem, then pulling it over his head. When you break the kiss, your eyes scan his face. Cheeks a dark red, eyes heavy lidded, out of breath, and so hot. 

“Oh my god, look at you.” Chan starts, his arms reaching for waist, like his hand were already molded in your hips.”Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want.” Chan says, looking like he never wants to stop.

“No, please.” You respond, pulling him back in.

He helps slide your dress down past your chest, where he pulls away to lock his eyes onto your laced bra.

“Is it okay..” He asks, while you’re already unclasping it for him. 

His hands fly up to your chest and he squishes. He plays with your chest until he replaces his pinching fingers to light biting to your nipples. You become a moaning mess while your hands tug onto his short dark hair. 

“Can you please,” Before you can finish your sentence, Chan pulls his jeans off leaving one piece of fabric tailored on his body left.

You slowly pull off your panties and he gives his full attention. His pupils, blown out as he leans in to kiss you. He kisses you softly, while his fingers rub your clit. He swallows each of your moans and slides a finger in.

“You’re so so tight, is this all for me? Are you making a mess on my bed for me? Are you going to make it up to me?” Chan says as you moan out apologies, none of them meaning much as you’re grinding against his fingers.

“If I give you more, will you take it like a good girl?” Chan asks, using his other hand to squeeze himself to relieve some of the strain from not being able to fuck you quite yet.

“Please, give me more. Please, please” You cry out, which is not enough for Chan. He grinds his hardness against your bare cunt, “Would you be a good girl for me?” He asks again.

“Yes. Please, just for you.” You cry out, and without another word, Chan pulls his member out and pushes into you without warning.

You both groan at the stretch and he doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his size. 

After your nod of approval, he starts moving. “God, it feels like you were made just for me. I can’t believe you made me wait since high school. Do you know how bad I’ve wanted you?” Chan rambles as he continues thrusting. You can’t even register his words completely from the pleasure being so overbearing. 

“Chan, I’m so close.” You moan out and he starts moving faster.

You can feel him get close by how fast he is going and you throw your head back while you finish. You shut your eyes so tight and squeeze him in the process.

“Oh, I’m so close.” Chan says, pumping into you. You start getting overstimulated and your body starts shaking as he pulls out and cums onto your stomach. He groans and plops down next to you. 

You both are breathing heavily and stare at the ceiling. You look over at him and start laughing, remembering what he said during sex.

“So you really wanted me for that long?” You chuckled, the cool air from the room finally hitting you.

“Shut up.” Chan mumbles, ears becoming permanently red. “You said I smelt like books.”

“I like the way books smell.” You say, leaning over to kiss him.

[misteria247]

Me when I see an older man: I want that senior citizen-

[arpicityandneed]

My Turn

18+ f!reader. best friends steve and bucky. dirty talk. bisexual steve. bisexual bucky.

~

"Tell me again where you want it baby." Your new husband had you in his lap thumbing your clit while you rode him. Your thighs were shaking but you were desperate, tears of frustration on your pretty lashes as you balanced yourself with both hands on his shoulders.

"Inside, Stevie, please?" His hands were roaming over your body possessively, gripping the fat of your ass and thrusting his soaked cock up into you with every down stroke of yours.

"Don't make the sweet thing cry Stevie." Bucky groans as he palms himself through his slacks, waiting his turn for once in honor of your wedding night. Usually he and Steve would've flipped a coin or fought for who got to bully their way inside your pussy first.

"I'm not gonna Buck, she's just so pretty when she begs. My wife." Steve's baby blues were dancing with mischief as Bucky cursed.

"You met her first by accident, Rogers. I'm older-" Bucky started growling the same damn argument they'd been having since they decided they wanted a baby and therefore a wedding. (They were too old fashioned for anything else.)

"Boys, can we argue later?" You cut in breathlessly, and Steves arm wrapped around your waist. Your only warning before he took over- fucking you up and down his shaft like a rag doll as he groaned,

"Alright baby. I gotta do right by my Mrs don't I?" With the smuggest grin you'd ever seen his balls twitched, and spurt after spurt of cum filled you fluttering walls.

"Goddamnit, Stevie." You would've comforted your other boyfriend if you could focus. But Steve's thumb was rubbing your clit as you seized up, coming hard and milking his cock for all he had to give.

You collapsed against his chest.

"You gonna be good for Bucky baby? You got one more in you?" Steve murmured gently as he rocked you on his softening shaft, his cum leaking out of you and drenching his balls in your combined juices.

"Mhm. Want him inside too." You smiled as you kissed him, soft and sweet like you had several hours earlier in front of all your friends and family.

"My turn." You hadn't heard him move but you weren't surprised when you were lifted and bent over the massive bed, Bucky was hardly a patient man once he had the green light.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're dripping." Bucky's voice was hoarse. But Steve, who was laying down close enough for you to tongue at his soft cock, just snorted.

"Don't complain like you don't love it, jerk." Steve guided his shaft into your mouth and murmured softly, "Clean me up baby."

"'M not complaining punk, it's a compliment." You moaned around Steve as Bucky took one good lick of your stuffed pussy before straightening and dragging his cock head through the mess. "Your cum tastes better inside her by the way."

"Shut up, you love my cum anyway you can get it, Barnes."

"Maybe." One smooth thrust and you were full once more, and Bucky goes from teasing his boyfriend to cursing how good you feel. "I gotta say doll. You're kind of a slut."

"B-Bucky!" Your scolding would be more effective if your pussy didn't clench around him from his words and the memories flooding you brain of watching Bucky swallow down Steves cock.

"Greedy fucking pussy-" His moans were loud, shameless. "Back me up here Stevie."

"He's not wrong sweetie. Youre an absolute slut for us. But just us, yeah?" Steve sounds proud. Proud that on his wedding night his wife is being tag teamed by him and his best friend.

Fuck.

You were going to cum, hard and Bucky- the smug bastard- wasn't going to let it happen quietly.

"Someone likes being reminded how needy her pussy is. Clenching down so hard on me doll." Bucky fucked different than Steve. Harder, filthier. His hands were dragging you back onto his fat cock until the audible slap of his hips against your ass echoed around the room. He was getting close you could tell. His heavy balls were slapping against your clit, aching to add to the cum already slicking him inside you. "Should've waited till after the honeymoon to let me fuck her Steve."

His hand snaked around to find your clit and with quick tight circles over your swollen nub you came apart with a cry.

"Yeah, Buck? And why's that.." Steves eyes were narrowed like he was annoyed at being told what to do, but you knew the truth. His cock was growing hard in your mouth again. Bucky thrusted hard inside you before he started to unload, grinding into you as if to make sure his seed took first.

"Cause now we're never gonna know who knocked her up first till the baby's born."

[cozage]

hii!! can i request for the event?? had this weird little scenario where a little kid goes up to reader, completely in love and confessing their love (even tho reader doesnt know who this little kid is) and the op men just look at what's happening with either a "😬" or "😠" reaction. any characters for this scenario would work but if you could put zoro as part of the 3 that would be great

Child Crushes Send me an event request!

Characters: fem reader x Zoro, Sanji, Shanks Total word count: 600

Zoro

“You are so beautiful!” A child screamed, slamming into you and wrapping his arms around your midrift tightly. “I love you!” 

“Hey!” Zoro shouted, reaching for the kid. “Get off her!”

“Zoro!” you chided, shielding the kid from your boyfriend's wrath. “It’s okay!”

“You are the most amazing lady I’ve ever seen! Your smile is radiant, and you are kinder than anyone I’ve ever met!”

You laughed, slowly prying the kid off of you. You were about to bend down to talk to him, but Zoro beat you to it. 

“Listen brat,” he hissed. “Go find another beautiful lady! This one is mine.”

The kid stuck his tongue at Zoro. “If you keep being so mean, she’ll leave you for a real man like me!”

“What did you-!”

“Zoro, stop!” you giggled, pulling him away. You looked back at the little boy, giving him a wink. “It was nice to meet you!”

“I’ll see you soon, lovely lady!”

You intertwined your arm with Zoro’s again, laughing at his outburst. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“He reminded me of that stupid cook,” Zoro groaned. “Besides, that kid needs to buzz off. You’re already taken.”

Sanji

“Excuse me miss,” a small voice came from behind you, and you turned around. 

He was young. Probably around 6 or 7, with caramel brown hair and clear blue eyes.

“Hi there,” you said, breaking away from Sanji’s hold so you could squat down so you were at eye level with him. 

“I just wanted to tell you are the most beautiful woman alive.” He held out a wildflower with small white petals. “Will you marry me?”

You giggled at his request. His bluntness reminded you of someone else you knew. 

“I’m flattered. How about you come find me when you’re older?” you challenged. 

He pushed the flower into your hands. “I will. I’ll never forget you! Until then, here’s something to remember me by!”

He took off, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. You laughed and stood up, your hand returning to Sanji’s. 

“You have competition,” you teased.

Sanji hummed pleasantly, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “He has good taste in women. Can’t argue with that.”

Shanks

You unfolded the note the little boy had given you and read the scribbles across the paper. 

Please make my day and kiss me. You are so beautiful and kind. I love you.

Shanks peered over your shoulder, looking at the note, and burst out into laughter. 

“Shanks!” you scolded under your breath. “Don’t laugh!”

“Look kid, only a real man gets to kiss this lady.” He planted a messy kiss on your cheek to prove his point. 

The kid looked at you and him, and then ran off. 

“Shanks!”

“He’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Shanks was right. A few hours later, the kid was standing at the end of the bar, peeking out and watching you from afar. 

“You wanna impress her?” Shanks asked, creeping up behind the boy. “Give her a rose and ask her for a kiss. To her face. Like a man.”

“Will that work?” the boy whispered, glancing back at you nervously. 

“That’s how I got her to kiss me,” he admitted. “Good news for you, I even have a spare rose.”

The little boy walked up to you, his knees visibly shaking as he gripped the rose in his hands. 

“I got this for you,” he said softly. “Will you kiss me?”

Your eyes darted to Shanks, a smile dancing across your lips. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking the flower from him and giving him a small peck on the cheek. “I’d be honored to kiss such a polite young man.”

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[postracehair]

gold rush

max verstappen x reader | 2.4k

max verstappen stands across the room from you at someone else's party. he's not yours, but he could be.

cw: cursing, perhaps overly introspective, allusions to sex, kissing, semi-established relationship without commitment, confessions, being desperately in love with max

a/n: this is a little different from my usual style. i...wrote it in two parts while wine drunk and yearny and listening to gold rush by taylor swift on repeat. it's a lethal combo for a girl, let me tell you. posting in honor of today's qatar win. i really like this one. please be nice to me. <3

--

It's torture.

Standing here across the room, glass in hand, watching.

He just looks so fucking good.

"Fuck me," you mutter. Some deep, animalistic urge tells you to bite clean through the rim of your wine glass. Chew on the shards until they're sand and swallow them easy as anything. It would probably be less painful than what you're currently doing.

Watching.

The object of your scrutiny straightens almost imperceptibly. A minuscule lengthening of his spine invisible to anyone who isn't examining his every move. For someone who is watched more often than not, you're surprised he feels your eyes on him.

But he does.

Max Verstappen turns away from his conversation partner slightly, a barely there shift of his chin to glance around the room. Blue eyes like the fucking ocean or some other cliche you can't think of right now. His focus face, you've called it. That got him to laugh, once, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes driving your heart into a frenzy.

Evaluating, cataloging. Looking for the racing line and finding -- you.

Leaning back on the wall not ten yards from him, wine glass in hand.

You're going to heat it up with your palm holding it like that, he'd told you once. You have to hold the stem.

They teach you that in Monaco? you'd teased.

Flirtations. One of a hundred, a thousand. Nothing memorable for him, you tell yourself. Each conversation an axis-shifting event for you.

It's embarrassing, actually. To want someone this much. To be one of millions.

But you know. You know how he looks in an empty room, how he mutters to himself when he folds his laundry, how he straightens his shoes against the wall of every hotel room.

You know him.

Maybe that's why this is dangerous. You've got ammo, you've got evidence. You know that Max Verstappen is like the rest of the world. A boy who wanted desperately turned into a man who has everything. And still wants.

Is that what binds us all together? The depth of our longing?

Max finds your gaze and holds it. The girl he's talking to -- pretty, smart. You know her peripherally -- keeps speaking, hand not holding her drink waving in the air, eyes focusing somewhere above his hairline.

Lots of people make this mistake. It's all in his eyes, if you can stand to look at them. Everything he's feeling. A challange that, once met, melts into an open door. He'll show you everything if you just step over the threshold, invited or not. Sometimes all we want is someone to bang on the door when we're already in bed. Make us get up, come downstairs. There you are. I was waiting for you.

The eyes tell you everything. You take a long sip of your wine and he watches, jaw ticking. He didn't shave today. The light stubble makes him look older, though you know his heart. Fluttering like a boy's, yearning like a child's. He wants just like you do. If only you knew what and just how much.

I don't know what comes next, he said. His head in your lap, hair soft and golden between your fingers. What else is there?

So much, you said. You traced the line of his nose with the pad of your thumb. That's the best thing about it.

About what?

Life.

There is a world in which you came to this party together. Distant, fuzzy. You mussed his hair with your hands after begging him to leave the gel on the shelf. He kissed off your lipstick before you made it out the door. The steady beat of his heart under your palm in the doorway, a sure reminder of the dip he makes in the universe. Your center, always orbiting around him.

Reality is louder. More crowded, smells like champagne and burnt pastry. It's a room full of people where you can only look at one. Where he's looking back.

You jerk your chin towards the back hallway, the one the leads to the bathroom only the girls go to in pairs. To debrief, to prepare. A secret from the hostess meant for moments of reprieve. At the very least, you'll need one of those.

It you're lucky, one of those will come to you on two legs and stormy eyes.

Could you be imagining it? Wouldn't be the first time you lived in your head a little too long. But -- fuck. The dreams you've had. The way you've looked at your life and slotted him into it. It's almost too easy, a game with no stakes. But the buy in is steep, nonrefundable. How you got here is irrelevant. You have to pay up.

You wind your way through laughing people, velvet dresses and barely buttoned shirts. Sparkly eye shadow and satin bows, well-wishes and chaste kisses. 'Tis the damn season, indeed. 

The hallway is quiet. No one in the bathroom, the door hanging open, light off. You lean back on the wall, glass loose in your fingers. Eyes closed, wondering if you'll wake up somewhere else. Somewhere you want less, somewhere your blood isn't singing, isn't begging you to get closer to him.

"You look nice," Max says. Your lips curve into a smile, a smirk, a grimace. Are they not all the same around him? Teeth showing, muscles out of control. He bypasses all of your sense, worms his way into your bloodstream with just a word.

"Thanks," you manage. Eyes open, now, and fuck, you feel it. Right in the chest, like a punch that digs beneath your ribs and takes its pound of flesh.

Max looks good. You saw it from across the room but here, in front of you, you can see it more clearly.

There's something about him. A boyishness that remains around the eyes, the mouth. Hopeful mischief, maybe. Eternal youth, promise, faith.

God. This would all be so much easier if you weren't in love with him.

He studies you. Takes his time, gaze tracing the lines of your face. Your brows, your lashes. Nose, lips. Lips. His eyes stop there.

"You were staring," he says. Never one to back down from a challenge. Never one to let you off easy. It's a compliment, the way he drags you to the ring. Keep up with me, he's saying. Make it interesting.

"Yeah," you say, slowly. It drips out of your mouth, lingers in the air between you. "You look good."

His eyes flash. You're meeting his expectations. Always hard to live up to those, when the standard he holds himself to is so damn high. He expects you to climb up that mountain, too. If only to show that you're wiling to. That he's worth it. That you want to.

And he does look good. Max values honesty above most things, but his cheeks flush all the same. It's pretty, not that you'd tell him that. Maybe one more glass of wine and you would. It's not an original thought, far from it, but you reach for him all the same, liquid courage loading the barrel and cocking the gun.

You cup his cheek, thumb pressing to the corner of his mouth. Like a marionette with his strings cut, he sighs. You breath with him, leaning in. Everything else fades away, the world turning around the place where his skin touches yours. Palm on his stubbled cheek, eyes locked like you're moored to each other.

This is why you haven't let him go. Because it's like this. It's insane.

And Max knows it.

"What are we doing?" he whispers. His throat bobs and he looks unsure. Not an expression you've seen on him very often, but maybe that's the punchline.

This matters to him. Maybe as much as it matters to you. He leans into your palm and the fingers of one hand curl around your hips, pressing hard enough to bruise. He carefully tugs your wine glass from your grip and sets it on the thin table in the hall before crowding you agains the wall.

"I don't know," you whisper back. You're close enough that he must feel your breath on this lips. It's inexplicable, this feeling -- you should know. You've tried.

He reorients everything, you've said over and over again. It's like I'm seeing the world for the first time, but with him in it.

His breath is hot on your lips. "I need you," he says. "I --" He swallows. Pupils swelling, mouth set. You half expect him to pull on a racing suit and get in the car.

"Max," you manage. It's not a surprise, not really, but it stings the way that only the things you want can. "I--

"Nothing else is like this," he says, sounding more sure than you've ever heard. "No matter what, or who, it's not like this. I'm always thinking of you."

Something inside you crumples. Your very bones, maybe. Your heart, surely. He can't just say these things.

"Don't say if it you don't mean it," you manage. Your throat is thick, tears resting just behind your eyes. It makes sense to no one else, this love. This passion, this soul tie.

"I mean it," he says, voice steady. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask this of you, but I am. I'm asking."

Love me. Stick by me. Tell me you feel it, too.

You close your eyes again, but what appears behind your lids is no less than what's actually happening to you. This is the stuff of dreams, the deepest part of your heart that beats his name.

"I don't know how to do this," you whisper. His lips drag from your pulse point to your ear.

"Me neither," he replies. "But we have to try."

"I've wanted you for so long," you gasp. His fingers have snuck under the hem of your shirt, nails scratching up and down your back. "Max--"

Your name is a prayer on his tongue, a blessing, a benediction. A plea. You've never felt so safe as when he is at your altar.

"Let's go," he says. "Let's get out of here."

The where doesn't matter. The how, the why, the when. It doesn't matter.

Sometimes, things just happen the way they are supposed to. Lovers unite, reunite, and love. Is that not enough?

"Bet you say that to all the girls."

Your voice is hoarse, ragged. The opposite of his well-honed determination, his tunnel vision. You wanted this, didn't you? But you're stalling. Having and wanting are different.

"No," Max says. "Hey, look at me."

For all your talk, you keep doing anything he asks. It's so easy. You are so safe in his hands, even if they burn.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and you open your eyes. Despite the drinks you watched him down they're clear. Ablaze with certainty.

"Max," you whisper. His nostrils flare.

"Just you," he says. "You have me. Just you."

He does this thing, when he's away. You bought him a keychain -- a lion, of course -- on a whim. Figured he'd throw it in a drawer somewhere and forget about it. But then he sent you a photo from a country you've never been to, holding up his keys, the lion dangling in the sunlight.

You get photos from all around the world, now.

Maybe...maybe, you can believe him. Maybe you can take. Maybe dreams can bleed into waking.

What else is there to do? His jaw ticks, lips parted as he exhales. You feel it, warm and shaky. That won't do.

The kiss doesn't surprise him. It's inevitable, a corner he's driven in his sleep, the finish line that always waits for him. Max always knows where he is going and maybe he knew you were on the way here, too.

And god, does he know how to kiss you. You're the one who leans in but he takes the wheel quickly, one hand pressing into your lower back under your shirt and the other dragging up your ribs to settle on your jaw. He licks into your mouth like there's a secret to find, like he can peel back your layers and find your heart in his palms, beating in time with his.

Nights in his bed, slow mornings watching him wake. Phone calls just to hear you breathe, texts and gifts and hints that, if you'd just say so, this could be more. This could be it.

But he's waited. You realize he's waited for you.

"You have me," you say, pulling away with a gasp. His lips chase yours, hovering so close that every word makes them brush. Your hands are woven in his hair, noses pressed together. Almost one person. "Max," you breathe. "You have me."

There are a thousand ways this could go wrong. Even if your world orbits around him, even if his heart is magnetized to yours, a star in the sky always pointing north -- reality is not so kind. It will be hard. No one will understand. People will want what you have, what you will hold dear for the rest of your life.

But it doesn't matter. Because Max -- a world champion, a boy who wanted who became a man who had everything -- is holding you. He smiles so wide it spreads to you, two smiles pressed together in the dim light of someone else's party.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay, let's go."

He kisses you once more, sloppy, teeth clacking, and grabs your hand. Out of the hall, through the party, barely a word for anyone else. Everybody wants you, you told him once. Hm, he'd said. I don't know about that.

But he gleams. He shines, flushed cheeks and bright eyes as he looks back to check that you're still there. Squeezing your hand in his, a man on a mission. Following that racing line all the way home, all eyes on him. But he knows where he's going.

Out of the party and onto the quiet street, breath floating up and away in excited puffs. Under the streetlight Max looks ethereal. Beautiful, boyish, in love. He's a dream come to life.

Your dream. Looking back at you like he's thinking the same.

He says your name like he's been looking everywhere and finally found you. Reaching the end of the road, throwing the door open and falling to his knees. An answer. The answer.

He kisses you on the empty street. You fall, and fall, and fall.

Together.

[astralis-ortus]

sunday, sunday, sunday

✱ husband!bc × fem!reader

— now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

w.count → 1.1k genre → fluff, fluff, fluff. just tooth rotting fluff. warnings → very minor cussing (just once)(atp cussing is a given lol), kissing, time jump (twice), chan referred to as chris a.n → blame the man for putting the idea in my head like what can i do??? his insta post??? hello??? not to mention his song recommendation while i was writing this??? laufey's like the movies??? what??? he wants me dead atp<////3 ⋆ see masterlist

it’s sunday.

to be fair, it has been sunday since the moment chris’ eyes flew open a few hours ago. it’s sunday when he got ready, it’s sunday when he got his light makeup and hair settled, it is sunday when he finally wore the crisp tailored suit that has been turning his heart into the loudest marching band ensemble he’d ever known.

but to be fair,

it’s not just any sunday.

“bring those shoulders down, hyung. you’re gonna get cramps at this point.”

“oh shut up,” chris groaned, feeling more embarrassed about the fact that he got caught more than the fact that his nerves are firing non-stop at an untraceable rate. “just take the pictures, felix.”

albeit rolling his eyes at chris’ rather feisty comment, it was proven impossible to wipe the cheeky grin off the younger’s clearly ecstatic face. after all, it’s a monumental day in chris’ life—and he’s very honored the older trusted his (and technically hyunjin’s) skills to capture the day’s earlier moments.

“see? that’s already all better,” felix cheerily quipped, snapping several pictures as soon as he caught a glimpse of chris fixing his posture. besides, a little movement here and there does make the picture come out a lot more natural, which was the one thing you repeatedly told him (and hyunjin) as something you wanted to see most in the final cuts.

you.

the mere thought of you was enough to melt the remaining stillness present in chris’ face.

it has been a wild few months; meetings after meetings, fittings after fittings, testing, changes in plans, some other minor revisions, checklist, checklist, checklist. chris was justifiably spent, and so were you. there were arguments (you refused to call them fights, knock on wood), there were a couple of shed tears (out of frustration, of course), there were a few hours of leaving each other on read (justifiably so, considering both of you are quite the stubborn pair), but there were also a lot of make-up dates, plenty of exchanged giggles of excitement, and bountiful of prayers for the days to come.

those days have been wild, and this sunday will begin to prove that every second of it was worthwhile.

“chris hyung!”

woken up from his trance, the glint on chris’ eyes finally returned as he found hyunjin’s head peeking from inside the room—the one he’d been waiting on for the past 10 minutes while his head was busy creating bits and pieces for his life montage.

“ready to see your bride?” asked the younger, grin replicating the ones felix is sporting behind his lenses.

am i ready?

palms running over the fabric of his carefully crafted suit, ones you finally chose after debating over a dozen others you deem was ‘not grand enough for someone about to spend the rest of my life with’, chris took one final breath.

“ready.”

it’s sunday.

it’s been exactly a week since your wedding day, and you finally got your hand on the stack of developed pictures courtesy to your now-husband’s talented teammates. originally, you wanted to take part in picking the films, but the duo was pretty convincing when they said waiting for their pick would make a good little surprise to enjoy on your honeymoon trip.

“come on,” chris beckoned, curls framing his beautiful face while his hand motioned to the empty spot next to him on the bed; one you just left after a call from the front desk informing you about the tiny package under your husband’s name. “let’s see how hyunjin did at taking your pictures.”

“and felix at yours,” you added with a grin, swiftly claiming your throne while your fingers were busy ripping open the brown envelope. “i want to see my husband as much as you wanted to see your wife, you know. not to mention, that suit was absolutely perfect on you.”

��not again,” his defeated giggles has been chris’ way to answer to your every compliment on his look since the day of your wedding. “you need to stop that before my head blows up to the size of a hot air balloon, my love.”

“well,” you shrugged, finally getting your hand on the stack of pictures before then snuggling right into the warmth of chris’ arms, “have you ever thought about trying not to be so hot all the da-“

and of course, stealing kisses has also been his alternative should you continue to run your mouth and try to turn him into a blushing mess.

as if that’s not exactly the reason why you kept up with the praises.

“can we start looking at the pictures,” he muttered over your lips, evidently smiling as his lips brushed against yours, “or do i still need to shut you up?”

you hummed, letting the warmth of his skin hover over your face before your lips captured his in a quick peck, “pictures. need to see my cool husband.”

the way his laugh reverberates against his chest never fails to warm you up.

“okay, picture it is then.”

it’s sunday.

you didn’t expect moving to be this hard—sure, you’ve been living together with chris even before you two got married, but had you really been accumulating that many stuffs?

“fuck—i think it’s not the right screw,” your husband’s mutters forces your line of sight to gravitate towards his hunched figure, still hovering over the half-built shelf on the floor of your living room.

“you reckon it should still stick out this much?” he questioned, beckoning you to look at the silver piece, sticking out like a sore thumb. “no, right?”

“think not,” you huffed, crouching next to chris to look at the scattered pieces around him, “was this all? did they send the wrong one?”

chris groaned in defeat, deciding to lean onto your warmth instead of voicing his answer. maybe building your own furniture was not exactly a good idea to spend your first weekend home after your honeymoon trip.

treading your fingers through his soft curls, you then came up with a suggestion, “i’ll get you a pineapple juice then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

and it sure perked him right up.

looking at you with sparkles lighting up in his eyes, it felt right—it felt like even through the worst sundays, chris would still be the there to welcome you home.

“thank you,” he grinned—the boyish kind. the one that made you feel like a swarm of butterflies, one that gets you blushing like a schoolgirl in front of her first ever crush. his lips then found its home on the bare of your thigh, printing a quick kiss on the surface, “you’re the best.”

“mm, i know,” you answered with a giggle, feeling the warmth breaking through your skin before returning the kiss on his plump lips while feigning ignorance to the way your heartbeat grew louder by the second.

“you’re still the bestest of the best, though. can’t beat you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[latenightdaydreams]

"Can you pretend to be my boyfriend for a few minutes, please? Those guys won't leave me alone.."

Feel like Mafia König would get a kick out of this.

Mafia!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, intimidaion, light violence, suggestive moments

1.0k word count

.

.

König was walking down town late one night just enjoying the liveliness of everyone gathering and having fun after dark. His eyes drift from beautiful woman to beautiful woman mindlessly as he continues on. Then he feels a smaller hand slip into his. He turns his head to make eye contact with you, gazing up at him with such wide eyes. A small smirk curls at the corner of his lips.

“I’m sorry, but those men won’t leave me alone.” You glance over your shoulder at them, his gaze follows. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

König eyed the small group of pathetic men. Who goes out to harass beautiful defenseless women? He tightens his grip on your delicate hand as he nods his head. “I’ll be your boyfriend, Prinzessin.” His Austrian accept drips smooth like honey.

König takes a moment to inspect you, taking in every inch of your body. He wouldn’t mind really having you as his girlfriend. The perfect piece of eye candy. What a fun turn of events for him tonight.

“Hey! Love, come back.” One of the men shouts at the two of you as you continue to walk on.

König lets go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and turning around to face the men. Standing at 6 '10 with an impressively muscular physique and being the Don of his organization, he puts the fear of God in most people with a single look. He isn’t afraid of anything.

The look on the men’s faces drop slightly as they see your smaller frame is pressed tightly against König as his arm caresses your waist in a tender and possessive manner. He slowly guides his hand to your ass and squeezes, causing you to blush. They exchange glances before deciding to approach you anyway.

“Why did you leave us for this old man?” The leader speaks up once more.

König laughs before removing his arm from you and stepping in front of you to block your stunning body in that red party dress from their view. He crosses his arms over his chest, showing off just how big they are. The group stops only a few feet from König.

“Do we have an issue boys?” König speaks in a condescending tone.

“That my girlfriend you put your hands all over. She’s just drunk.”

The man attempts to walk around König and grab your arm, but König grabs his arm first. The younger man looks up at König with a glimmer of fear in his eyes as he feels his powerful grip on his arm. He leans down to be able to speak in his ear. “Do not lay a single finger or her or I will personally snap them off one by one.” König’s voice comes out as a low growl.

“Let me go! Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“König.”

The simple mention of his name causes the group to slowly back up, not even attempting to give their friend back up. König, the illusive man, is only known by name in this city. He’s sort of a boogie man, a demon in the shadows.

“I- I- I didn’t know she was yours.”

“You didn’t see this older man’s arm around her?” König laughs and pulls the smaller man closer like a ragdoll. “You really need to learn some fucking manners.”

You stand behind König watching this all unfold. When you hear who the mysterious man you ran to for help is, your own stomach does a flip. The lore attached to this man makes your skin crawl, and yet here he is defending your honor.

König lets go and punches the man with such force he falls back on to the ground. He quickly begins to scramble away, attempting to pick himself up but the rush of terror causes his whole body to shake. König takes mockingly slow steps as the man attempts to back up.

“Where are you going? I thought you wanted to show off how big of a man you are?”

“No, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

Without a second though you walk forward and grab König’s arm. You fear what he can do to the man, probably things that you don’t want to see. Your soft eyes gaze up into König’s as he turns back to you. For a second, you fear him growing angry with you.

“Ja, Prinzessin?” His tone changes in a split second to a gentler softer tone for you.

“I- I think he’s learned his lesson.”

König can see the uncomfortable look in your eyes as you beg him to leave the man alone. His gaze turns back to the scared man on the ground with blood pouring from his mouth onto his shirt. The group he was with had fled by this point. In his mind he weighs his options before deciding to listen to you.

“I never want to see you or your friends again. My men will know who to look for.” He threatens.

“I promise! Never again.” The man scrambles to his feet and turns to run away.

König watches the man rush off into the crowd to get out of König’s sight. He turns back to you and places his arm back around your waist and pulls you into a tight hug. His other hand went back down to your ass and squeezes the plump flesh tightly.

“What’s the matter? Are you a good girl? Don’t like to see people hurt?” He asks in a tender tone as he takes in every inch of your beautiful face.

“I don’t.” You whisper almost feeling afraid now that his full attention is on you.

“That’s okay.” His hand moves from your rear to your face, gently caressing your jaw. “Such a delicate thing. Are you afraid?”

You shake your head no, but he can tell that you’re lying. “I don’t hurt beautiful women. What’s your name, Prinzessin?”

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ve enjoyed being your boyfriend for the night. I’d love to really take you out, maybe make you my girlfriend for real.”

“I—”

König leans in to kiss you before you can reject him. His hands travel over your body as his mouth presses hungerly against yours. He slowly pushes your back against a building's brick wall, moving one hand around the hem of your dress desperate to see, touch, taste… your pussy.

When he pulls away from the kiss a string of saliva connects the two of you still. “I’ll walk you home, Prinzessin. I wouldn’t want someone else to bother you.” He say’s covering his desire fuck you with concern as you both begin to walk in the direction of your apartment.

Part 2

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #9

"Are you sure about this?" J'onn asks, reading the discontent amongst the Kents. Clark and Lois each have a hand on their teenage son's shoulders, who several weeks prior was aged ten years old.

"We're sure," Clark says. He is not, nor is his wife. But his son is, who lays his hand on his mother's and squeezes. It is that surety that J'onn honors as he delves into the young (but not as young as he should be) man's mind.

The memories are hard to find but not gone, hidden behind what Jon can only see manifested as a glowing green wall. When he raises a tentative hand, the shield sparks green, but does no harm. Pushing through is like wading through the consistency of jello, which he finds an overall unpleasant experience. But he is unharmed as he passes through.

Before J'onn can sort through the memories he is all but sucked into the one at the forefront, where a Jon most similar in visage to the one recently returned perches on the edge of a building. Beside him lies a burger, partially unwrapped though uneaten, and a small soda.

As the memory builds out a sun sets on a small suburban town, and a muscled thigh knocks into Jon's, an older man with a shock of white hair and eyes the same light and color as the shield formed around these memories appearing. He's tall even sitting, likely about as tall as Superman, and looks to be in his thirties. A full body suit comprised of black and silver accents stretches across broad shoulders, a stylized D on his chest. He knocks his thigh into Jon's again.

"You said I couldn't go back," Jon says quietly.

"I lied," the man says lightly.

"You're lying now," Jon says, glaring at him. "I can hear your heart."

"Nice try, kiddo, I don't have a heart in this form," the man says, reaching a hand out, presumably to ruffle his hair. Jon dodges.

"I know you're lying. You would've told me. You would've helped me get home."

"Jon--"

"You're protecting Clockwork, aren't you?" Jon demands, eyes beginning to burn red. "That old coot decided it wasn't enough to play with you, he had to play with me too."

The man slaps a hand over Jon's eyes. "Breathe, like we practiced," he instructs firmly. Steam rises from where his palm meets Jon's eyes, but if it hurts he shows no indication. "In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3."

Jon whimpers but heaves a breath, and the burst of red light dies down from between the man's fingers. His hand moves down to Jon's shoulder.

"I can't pretend to understand Clockwork's decisions," the man says, as tears begin to pool in Jon's eyes. "Frankly, I don't want to. I suspect they are hard decisions to make, sometimes."

"I don't get why you defend him," Jon says. "Dumbledore acting bastard."

"Language," the man says, lightly bopping him on the head. J'onn notes the boy actually winces, as if the blow hurts.

"I am upset with him, I hope you know that," the man continues. "But at the end of the day I'm also grateful. Because I got to meet you." He hooks an arm around Jon's shoulders, pulling him in. "And now you'll get to see your family again. And Sally, Arnold, and Damian!"

Jon sniffles, rubbing roughly at his face. He leans into the man's bicep. A trusted adult figure, then. One he's described his life to. A life, J'onn is sad to note, he appears to have lived for the past six years, as opposed to a sudden shift in appearance. Jon's next question all but confirm it: "Can I really go back? It's been so long. They'll be all grown up."

"Hey, of course you can," the man says, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sure they've missed you so much. They'll be so happy to see you again."

Jon starts to smile. "I'm going home."

"You're going home!" The man laughs, shaking him.

"I can finally eat some decent barbecue again!"

"Hey!" the man protests, "The smoker blew up one time!"

Jon continues, beginning to get excited. "And Ma will make her jalapeño cornbread! I never could get it right, I can't wait for you to try it!"

J'onn notes the older man's smile fading, eyes growing sad.

"And Damian will definitely want to spar and oh, oh! With you on our side we can totally prank Batman! I bet Alfred will even help! And Mom gives the best hugs, Pops comes really close but Mom will be really excited to meet you, everyone will."

"Jon," The man says.

"I knew you'd be worried about it, but they'll want to meet you," Jon says, clocking his expression. "They'll be grateful. You, you helped me. You kept me safe and taught me how to be Superman. They'll love you, I promise."

"Jon, I can't go with you," the man says gently.

"I'm not saying you stay, but you can visit! I'm sure the Justice League can figure out a way to maintain a portal, they're super used to all that multiverse stuff. Once they have the coordinates, you can stop by whenever!"

"I can't go through the portal, Jon," the man says. "To other worlds, I'm a god. And gods can't interfere. The only reason I can continue to live here is because this is the world of my origin."

Jon gapes at him. "But--but,"

"You're going to see your Mom and Dad again," the man says. "And your brother, and grandparents."

"I can come here, then," Jon says desperately, pushing his way out of the man's arms. The man is already shaking his head. "I can!"

"You can't."

"Why, because Clockwork says so? He's a liar!"

"Because multiverse travel is never a good idea. If you got trapped here again--"

"I wouldn't,"

"You belong with your family,"

"You're my family!" Jon cries. The man freezes. "You, and Sam, and Jazz, and Tucker and Val and Ellie and Pops and Mads, you're all my family! I can't just leave you, I won't!"

"Oh kiddo," The man says, eyes wet. "I love you too. We all do."

"So I'll stay," Jon says decisively. "For all we know my world is a wasteland. Gramps wasn't exactly right in the head when I left. It's better to stay here."

J'onn notes a green vine unwinding from a nearby trellis. It slides down the eave towards the pair.

"You don't mean that," the man is saying.

"I'm sixteen. I can make my own decisions. I'm staying."

The man cups Jon's face. "Your parents did not have a choice in losing you. I'm willing to bet they're devastated. Because I'd be devastated, losing a kid as great as you."

"Maybe they're not even there," Jon says, but the words are half-hearted, and it clearly hurts him to say them.

"I know I seem like a pushover, but if I thought Clockwork was sending you back to anything less than your loving family, I'd destroy him first. And he knows that. They're going to be there, I promise."

"I don't want to go," Jon says. Behind him, the vine rises from the eave of its own will, poised like a cobra enchanted by a snark charmer.

"I know," the man says, eyes drifting to the vine. "I'm so sorry, Jon."

"For what?" Jon asks, as the vine attaches itself to the nape of his neck. His eyes roll back as he collapses into the man's arms. The man hugs him tighter than is strictly necessary.

J'onn expects the memory to now end, alongside Jon's consciousness. To his curiosity, it does not.

"For what it's worth," a young woman spits bitterly, vines supporting her weight as she slips over the side of the roof. "I still think this is horrible." Her eyes are red and miserable.

"Seriously, team punching Dumbledore in the face," A young black man says, appearing in the air supported by a woman almost identical in appearance to the man holding Jon, down to the suit colors. They land on the rooftop.

"Are you sure about this," the dark haired woman with powers over plants asks. "Because to be honest, Danny, I'm five seconds away from punching you in the face."

"Jazz won't speak to you for months," the girl, likely his sister, points out.

"Make it a year," the man says, crossing his arms.

The man, Danny, ignores them all. He cards a hand through Jon's hair. "He'll retain the experience, but not the memories?"

"Yes, he'll be a perfect little superhero, just as you taught him," the woman says, vines twisting agitatedly around her, wrapping around her thigh, wrists and neck almost punishingly.

"Sam," the man says. "He needs to go home. All of you know that."

"He doesn't have to forget us to do so!" the sister bursts, eyes flashing green.

"Remembering would be a torment," Danny says. "He'll know he was loved. That's enough."

"Danny," the plant woman says, sitting beside them both. She puts a gentle hand on his, both on Jon's back. "This is just a different torment."

"And if someone finds out?" Danny asks. He has been patient amidst their scorn, but now a tiny edge ekes into his voice. "A god's child, unprotected? Threatened? He would never stop looking for a way back, and being vocal about it could get him killed."

The others are silent.

"He'll be home. He'll be happy," Danny says. More powerful than a prayer. A directive. He raises his head past the child slumbering in his lap, past them all, face hardening, and says to J'onn: "And you will say nothing."

J'onn takes a step back, fear so thick he could choke on it flooding his very being. Thismanwillkillhim, thismanwillkillhim.

This man will reach through dimensions and kill him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my kid's head," Danny snarls. J'onn is pushed back with enough force he enters his own mind in a vicious whirl that leaves him physically on the floor, gasping.

"I'm sorry," he says as Superman rushes to lift him, and he's not sure who he's apologizing to. Green eyes will pierce his dreams. Vines will crush his throat in his nightmares, screaming silence, silence.

You will say nothing.

"I'm sorry," J'onn says, politely pushing Clark's hands away as he rises. He's already beginning to calm, because he understands. Those are consequences he will not face. He will do as directed. He looks at Jon Kent, bewildered but unharmed, clutching his mother's hand.

J'onn reaches down and dusts at his pants. "I'm sorry," he says evenly, ready to spin his tale. Perhaps the Kents will continue to seek their answers. Perhaps not. He will stay out of it either way. He has been warned.

You were loved by gods. And to keep you safe, they would quiet us all.

Part Two

[thecharacterchronicler]

Perform || Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: You get married to Coriolanus Snow, a powerful man that you don’t even know, and try to adjust to your new life as his wife.

Word count: 3’500

Warnings: Arranged marriage, explicit smut and probably a few mistakes here and there because English isn’t my first language.

Author’s note: This may or may not be a prequel to There Will Come A Ruler. I’m not sure it fits all the details as it wasn’t planned but inspiration suddenly struck me so here it is.

The room went dead silent as soon as you passed the threshold, numerous pairs of eyes turning to stare at you. There wasn’t a single familiar face among the men standing around the large desk, previously hunched over a pile of papers. You knew that they would never be able to tell how intimidated you felt under their severe gazes, you knew how to fake confidence better than anyone… However, two pale blue eyes seemed to be staring right into your soul, as if he knew.

“Great timing, we just finalized the contract.” One of the older man in a suit said, seemingly wanting to break the cold silence that weighted heavily on your shoulders. You nodded without a word, approaching the desk, coming to a stop next to the youngest man, the one with the unsettling eyes.

You turned your head to look at him more closely and his eyes darted away instantly, landing on a distant object at the opposite side of the office. He stood straight, his head held high and his arms crossed behind his back, impassible.

When you entered the room, he seemed to be radiating with light in the darkness of the office, surrounded by men in boring black suits while his was made out of an immaculate white fabric. Combined with the paleness of his skin and his carefully combed back blond curls, he resembled the image of an angel you had seen on a very ancient painting once. But his indifference towards you, and the icy stare he gave you, made it clear that you wouldn’t find solace in him.

“I reviewed the contract at your family’s request and made sure everything is in your best interest.” The man who had spoken to you already said again, handing you the very last page of the pile of documents on the table and an elegant pen to sign it with.

You didn’t doubt that the lawyer your family had hired was competent and probably too scared by them to dare make a mistake while establishing a contract in your name with an army of other lawyers in the room but you still felt compelled to take a look at the full file in front of you, ignoring the pen he was still holding for you to take.

Maybe it was a desperate attempt to gain time on your part more than a necessity to double check the terms and conditions of the agreement you were meant to sign but, as you glanced towards the man in white, you were pretty sure you saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, although he was still determined to not look at you directly.

Some clauses written on the paper seemed reasonable, others were more restrictive and some downright affected your freedom and free will but you knew you wouldn’t be able to negotiate anything better. You wouldn’t dare try anyway, everyone had been telling you what a privilege it was for you and what an honor it was for your family to be offered such an opportunity. Even in the high society of the Capitol, it didn’t happen often for a girl who had just graduated from the Academy to secure such an interesting match. It was even more rare that such a match didn’t require to be seduced in order to arrange a marriage...

“Everything seems in order.” You finally said, after taking your time to read each paragraph of the contract, ignoring the lawyers’ growing frustration and impatience around you.

“I can attest that it is.” The one lawyer meant to be on your side confirmed and, even if you felt the urge to tell him that he could have done better - or at least come to an agreement that wouldn’t force you to produce heirs in a few years - you quietly nodded, taking the pen he was offering you and writing your name at the bottom of the last page.

You paused for a moment, admiring your handwriting in black ink, a small gesture that sealed your future.

It was a privilege. An honor. One that you couldn’t refuse.

You took a step back and turned to the man in white, handing him the pen. He took it without looking at you, hunching his tall frame over the desk to sign his name next to yours in elegant calligraphied letters.

Coriolanus Snow.

You managed to take a deep but silent breath, the implications of the contract you had both signed downing on you. Your life was about to change forever, you’d have to leave your home, your family, everything and start a whole new life, with a man you didn’t even know. He was a complete stranger to you, all you knew about him was that he was the youngest head game maker for the Hunger Games in history, the protégé of Doctor Gaul herself and that, as if it wasn’t enough already, he had announced that he’d be campaigning to become the next president of Panem.

“Well, I hope you’ll be satisfied with the agreement, Mrs Snow.” Your lawyer said, but you didn’t realize right away that you were the one he was addressing, your new last name sounding foreign.

You forced a smile at him, watching as all the men slowly walked out of the office, leaving you on your own with your new husband. A shiver ran down your spine as the door closed behind them, a cold breeze caressing your skin. Coriolanus finally turned to face you, his icy eyes staring into your soul once again.

“I’ll meet you at the altar in three days.” He declared, emotionless. You quietly nodded, too intimidated to say a word. You knew that - much like the official documents you had signed already making you his wife - your wedding ceremony would be nothing like you envisioned it to be.

Time flew by after that. You had spent it feeling mostly overwhelmed by the amount of things you were expected to do before the ceremony. You had to pack your belongings, decide what you’d take with you to your husband’s manor and what could be left behind, attend various appointments meant to get you to beauty base zero before your very public wedding and - even if you didn’t have a say in the preparations - you still had to make sure everything would look flawless on the big day, including yourself.

Your family’s chauffeur drove you to the venue early in the morning where a team of people were ready to take care of your hair, nails and makeup and would help you get into the gorgeous white dress that was selected for you by your new husband and his own team. You watched as your reflection kept changing in the mirror in front of you, making you look like a glamorous bride… The only thing missing to such a perfect portrait was a genuine glint of happiness in your eyes.

Once you were ready to face the crowd of onlookers, news reporters and photographers posted outside the venue - hoping to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds on their way out after the ceremony - the people who had prepared you left, leaving you on your own in the luxurious suit, barely recognizing the person facing you in the mirror.

The short hour before the ceremony felt like agony, your hands shaking in fear of not being good enough to live up to everyone’s expectations and your chest constricted with anxiety. You couldn’t help but wonder what people would think of you when they’ll see you in your bridal attire. Would they think you were a good match for a man as important as Coriolanus Snow ? See you as worthy to potentially become the First Lady of Panem ? Would they think you were a cute couple, or see you as an ill match ? And what about him ? Would he find you beautiful when you’ll walk down the aisle to him ?

A firm knock on the door saved you from drowning in your anxious thoughts. You were expecting your family’s lawyer to come by and give you a few advices on how to live your new life without inadvertently breaking some of the terms of the contract you had signed. You also knew the wedding organizer would show up to give you a few pointers for the ceremony and your public appearance after it���

But, when you opened the door, a surprised gasp escaped your lips. Coriolanus was devastingly handsome in a tailored white suit, more fitting and luxurious than the one he wore when you had met him three days earlier. There wasn’t a single strand of his blond hair out of place, not a trace of dark circles under his blue eyes while your team had spent almost an entire hour trying to conceal yours after the sleepless nights you had had.

He smiled at you in a way you weren’t certain was genuine and held up a huge bouquet of white roses, tied together by a blood red satin ribbon. You understood it was yours to walk down the aisle with, the flowers matching the one pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

“Thank you.” You said, as you took the flowers. He was looking at you without any hint of admiration in his gaze, as if the hours your team had spent on your hair and makeup and the expensive wedding gown you were wearing didn’t affect him at all. As if he still couldn’t care less about you… “I’ve heard it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony.”

He huffed a mocking laughter at your words.

“Good thing we’re already legally married then.” He countered, the reminder adding to the panic in the pit of your stomach. “This ceremony is just meant to give them a good show.”

You knew that, of course. It was your duty - as his wife - to publicly appear by his side and pretend that you were overjoyed about it all. You were meant to help him build a flawless reputation so that he may eventually become president one day and you knew that his popularity was determined by how much the people could relate to him, or at least feel included in parts of his life. Soon, you’d be introduced to them as Mrs Snow and you couldn’t afford to mess up.

You turned around to place the beautiful - but surprisingly heavy - bouquet of roses on the vanity, hearing the door closing behind your back. When you looked over your shoulder, he was standing behind you, clearly expecting something from you although you weren’t sure what.

It was the first time you were fully alone with him, in such proximity to each other, and his intimidating posture added to the way his eyes darkened when they met yours made you feel quite weary, as if you were suddenly in some kind of imminent danger.

“Now turn around so I can make sure you’re ready.” He demanded, his voice slightly lower than usual.

You obeyed without a word, slowly spinning around twice as you felt the weight of his analyzing stare on you, making your body tingle with an odd electric sensation. Once you were face to face with him again, you couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or not by the way you looked, his expression serious and unreadable. A heavy silence lingered between you as you desperately hoped to hear a few words of affirmation to boost your confidence a bit… He didn’t say any but he took a step closer, his face closer to yours than what would be deemed acceptable between two strangers. He pushed a strand of hair away from your forehead, his eyes briefly plunging into yours before his hand traveled down to your mouth. He traced your lips with his thumb, fading out your lipstick slightly.

“I hope you paid attention to the wedding night clause on our contract.” He spoke, almost in a whisper. “Because as soon as we’ll be done performing for the crowd, I’m going to make you mine.”

Your body shuddered in response, and you weren’t quite sure if it was because it made you nervous or if because such a promise actually excited you somehow. You didn’t have time to think about it anyway, another knock on the door forcing you apart. The wedding organizer announced that the ceremony was about to start, forcing Coriolanus out of your suite, visibly oblivious to the tension that tainted the atmosphere between you. You took a deep breath to compose yourself, grabbed your bouquet and folllwed them out, ready to perform.

You spent the whole ceremony in a daze, not quite realizing what was happening or what anyone was saying. But you still managed to say the one thing everyone expected of you; I do. You smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers, made sure to keep your eyes open despite the blinding flashing lights of the cameras on you and took the time to greet everyone of importance that was in attendance that day. When your new husband had to kiss you in front of hundred of curious faces staring at both of you, he did it softly and chastely which almost felt a bit disappointing considering the authority and confidence he had spoken with earlier. But it sure was a cute picture for the tabloids.

You returned to the mansion he owned in the most expensive and luxurious area of the Capitol and were showed to your new bedroom by a maid, noting how your belongings had already been unpacked and organized to make you feel at home. It was only after she helped you out of your wedding gown and into a more practical and relaxed dress that you realized that this bedroom was yours and yours only. There wasn’t a single item that looked like it could belong to your new husband, none of his clothes in the dressing room, none of the products he put on his hair to keep them perfectly combed back throughout the day in the bathroom. And, even though this man was still a complete stranger to you, you still felt a hint of disappointment at the realization that he wasn’t planning on spending any of his time with you if none of his potential supporters could witness it.

He still had been thoughtful enough to ask another one of his employees to deliver a black box to your bedroom, an unexpected wedding present. You opened it as soon as you were all alone and your eyes widened in shock, discovering some lingerie made out of the thinnest and softest lace you ever touched. It was a gorgeous set that complimented your skin tone so well, it almost looked like it had been made specifically for you.

You tried the pieces on, surprised to see how each of them fitted you perfectly and comfortably. However, even if you felt pretty good in your new lingerie, you felt too awkward to go find your husband with nothing else on, so you pulled your dress back over the lace, hiding everything from view, before you walked out of your bedroom, determined to find Coriolanus in the huge mansion you now shared with him.

You easily found him downstairs, sitting on a teal sofa in front of a modern chimney. He was reading with his ankle resting on top of his knee. He looked up to you as soon as you stepped into the living room, immediately folding his newspaper to give you his full attention.

“Is your new bedroom at your convenience ?” He asked, politely.

“Absolutely.” You replied, nervously fidgeting with your hands as you stood in front of him. “And thank you for the wedding present.”

“Does it fit you ?”

“Yes, perfectly.”

“Take off your clothes then.” He demanded, and you wondered how he managed to sound so intimidating despite sitting down and you, towering over him.

“Here ? Now ?” You exclaimed, looking around for house employees.

“I think I’ve waited long enough.” He declared, unwavering. “So take them off or I will.”

You did as he requested, nervously removing your casual dress so that you stood in nothing but your new lingerie in front of him. His icy gaze roamed your body from head to toe, his expression still too closed off to tell if he liked what he saw or not.

He stood up, bringing his hand to your chest and tracing the outline of the lace over your breast with a finger. Goosebumps rose on your skin in reaction, your heart beating faster so close to where he was touching you.

“Turn.” He commanded and you obeyed, feeling slightly more confident in this perfectly fitting set than you did in your wedding dress. You felt his hands on your body again, tugging the lower part of the ensemble down your thighs agonizingly slowly. Did it mean he didn’t like it ? Or was he simply curious to see what was underneath the thin lace fabric ? “Lie down.”

He gestured to the couch he was sitting on a minute ago. You followed his command, your head resting on a soft satin pillow and your knees pulled back to you to leave him enough room to join you. He sat down, fully removing the piece of underwear around your thighs and you shivered when he pushed your knees apart, once again analyzing your body with a critical gaze.

He leaned forward and you gasped when you felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue between your folds, tracing a few circles around your clit before moving down to your entrance. He sat back straight, an amused grin on his face as he licked his glistening lips and took in the shocked expression on your face.

“I needed to know how my wife tastes.” He explained, your body tingling with excitement. He opened up his trousers, pulling his long and hard erection out. Your eyes widened, taking in his size, which seemed to amuse him yet again. “You can take it.”

He sounded pretty confident about that but you weren’t so sure. You didn’t get the chance to protest though, because he immediately moved to align himself up with your entrance and pushed his tip through it without hesitation.

You gasped at the burning sensation, your fingers tightening around the edges of the couch. A satisfied groan rumbled in his throat as he kept pushing himself in, inch by inch until he was fully buried inside you and you couldn’t remember how to breathe correctly.

It wasn’t as pleasant to you as it seemed to be to him at first, your walls still stretching to accommodate his girth and length while he took advantage of the tighteness ensnaring him to push himself as deeply as he could.

It was too much. Way too much. But, just as you considered asking him to pause, suddenly your body stopped resisting him, welcoming him instead, allowing his cock to slide back and forth in rythym with the way he rolled his hips against you, causing a warm and tingly sensation to bubble up deep in your core.

You looked at him, holding himself above you with his strong arms on each side of the couch, his muscles carved under his pale skin. A blond lock of hair bouncing against his forehead in synch with his movements and his eyes were glued to yours, attentive to how your traits changed each time he modified the pace of his thrusts.

Soon, it felt like too much again, but in a good way. You felt close to imploding from how good it felt to have him hitting inside you at a relentless rythym.

You turned your head to the side, hoping the pillow would help silence your moans, worried that every employee in the mansion might hear the uncontrollable sounds of pleasure that kept resonating inside the living room.

“Look at me.” He immediately ordered, not waiting for you to obey as his hand flew to your face, turning your head so that you’d face him again. His fingers then dropped lower, wrapping around your neck, causing the whimpers escaping from your mouth to sound a lot more desperate. “I want to see what you’ll look like when you’ll come as I’ll fill you up.”

A few more thrusts of his hips, his tip hitting the perfect spot inside of you and you felt your whole body contracting intensely, your core tightening around him as you cried out in pleasure, closing your eyes and your mouth dropping open in shock at the intensity of the wave of sheer bliss that ran through your whole body.

“So beautiful.” He commented, his eyes fixed on you in genuine admiration this time. His labored breaths got louder and he climaxed, his erection throbbing as it spurt out a load of hot cum deep inside you.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

Minors do ¡NOT! interact. This is not for you.

A/N: I haven’t seen the Boys and won’t BUTT that finale, amirite??? So in honor of the glorious return of Jensen Ackles, maybe the finest man who’s ever existed- seriously, when the aliens invade, show them him and they’ll be besotted by his beauty- I wrote this for all y’all SB lovers. Just note that I do not endorse any of this man’s actions, and if you do… the fuck?

I think it goes without saying but this is not my picture, it belongs to EW. (Too tired to make icons 💪)

Anyways, icons by me and all interaction-especially commentary- is appreciated!

Content/Content Warning: straight filth. The mouth on this man is crazy. Diddle that skittle.

****************************************************

It really had just been sparring. A little one on one, if you will. Me and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and me.

If it were anyone else, being pinned down to the ground would be the opposite of erotic. It would be annoying, and I’d be flailing around, trying to hit my partner in the balls.

But with Soldier Boy? We’d been skirting around each other since The Boys broke him out. Well, that’s a lie. I’ve been skirting around him, he’s made it more than a little obvious that he’s into me. I don’t know if it’s that he just wants a quick lay or what, but because I’m unfortunately attracted to him, I don’t really care.

Especially right now, when I’m pinned under him on the gym mat.

“Y’know, we shouldn’t do this,” I stall, no meaning behind my words.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he humors me. His lips are mere inches away from mine, his hair falling against my forehead. And I think I’m drunk on the scent of his pungent aftershave.

“I mean, you’re like, what, 103?” I ponder aloud, trying to distract myself from the fact that the Soldier Boy is rested over me in a plank, shirtless. That I can feel his warm breath on my face. That it smells like peppermints.

“104, actually, sweets,” he corrects. He’s had this shot-eating grin plastered on his face since he managed to wrestle me down, because like me, he knows exactly how this is going to end. But unlike me, he’s not remotely hesitant about showing it. And because he’s a jerk, he’s making me make the first move. But I’m not ready quite yet.

“104, right,” I mutter. “Older than my grandpa.”

“Smart girl,” he just goes along with everything I’m saying, letting me stall. The mischievous glint in his emerald colored eyes never ceases.

I nod slowly. “You are a very attractive grandpa,” I state, my tone far away as if I’m talking about him while he isn’t on top of me. Ohhh do I want him on top. You know what I mean.

“Thanks, sugar. But I think I’d prefer ‘Daddy’ if we’re going for the titles,” he says cheekily, still making no moves. I on the other hand am blushing the brightest red. Between the nicknames and Daddy, it’s too much to handle.

“O-oh,” I stutter, swallowing thickly. “Noted. But, uh, aren’t you more into… more mature women?”

“I believe all women are mature. I don’t discriminate, sweets,” he says, his shit-eating grin somehow eating more shit.

“Very feminist of you,” I say sarcastically.

“Damn straight,” he agrees.

I bite my lower lip. “You’re very experienced, right?”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but yes, I’d say so,” I can tell that he can tell that I can tell that this is volatile, just moments from going somewhere.

“Okay, so I guess my last question is this: how would you go about it. Y’know? With someone that you hypothetically wouldn’t treat as someone you paid for? That you’re sort of friends with?” I have to know. I’m too nervous for him not to lay it out plain and simple for me, I need to mentally prepare myself.

“Well, firstly, I think I’d have to know my girl likes it,” he gives me a pointed look.

“Your hypothetical girl,” I correct.

“Sure, my hypothetical girl,” he agrees. How has he not broken a single sweat this entire time? He’s been in a plank over me for the last however long it’s been and it doesn’t even affect him??

Quit getting distracted.

“Maybe she likes it rough. She wants to feel it for a few days,” I suggest, feeling my stomach knot at the notion. I’d been consistently growing wetter since he put me under him, and my arousal shows no signs of stopping.

“Okay, so I’d give it to her rough. Work her up until she’s begging for it… maybe I’ll- I mean, I’d- use my mouth first, taste her pretty pussy before I get my dick wet.” It’s all I can do not to moan at the dirty words falling out of his plush lips. Not to mention his honeyed transatlantic 50s accent… I’m so fucked. In so many ways. “Probably get her to come at least once, cause I’m sure she tastes as sweet as she looks.”

“Uh huh,” I mumble, the sound coming out higher than it should as I look at him with wide, attentive eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, even before then I’d be marking her up and down. So that way everyone can see who made her feel so good, who got her walking so funny,” he backtracks. And again, the notion is far too good to be true. But the promise in his voice? It’s real. “I’d have to get her ready for my cock, stretch her out with my fingers. Start with one, but she’d be so wet that that wouldn’t even do anything. She’d be begging for more if I just did two, so I’ll give her three, make that needy cunt happy,” he muses. And it’s so, so erotic. And I’m ready to just lean up and kiss him, make him do all the things he says. But I’m captivated by his words, his narration- I think I could come from it alone. “I don’t know if I’d let her come again then. Because I think she’d be begging for my dick with how good my fingers feel stuffed in her tight pussy.”

Mother. Fucking. Hell. Oh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t be real. These words should be banned from his vocabulary, because I am on fire right now.

“Where do you think this hypothetical girl would want me to come?” he asks out of curiosity, smirking. Probably at the way I’m looking at him like a bitch in heat.

“In her,” I mumble.

“In her where?” he asks smugly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it.

“Ben,” I whine in protest.

“Oh, c’mon, tell me,” he chides. “For the sake of the story.”

“In my-her-pussy,” I answer in a breathy whisper.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it’s all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there’s no way. “Well, what I’d do next… that’s simple. I’d fuck her until she cried, and then I’d keep going. And I’d keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she’s gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me,” he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I’m losing it. I can’t think straight. And yet- he’s still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

“O-okay,” I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. “And if that hypothetical girl was me?” We both know it’s me, I just need to hear it.

“Well in that case I think I’d be the luckiest bastard who ever lived,” he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That’s it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

****************************************************

In the meantime… want more Soldier Boy?? Try Taming The Supe <3

[maluustrawberry]

Undesirable encounter

(Claude Frollo X Female reader)

Synopsis: You were the new seamstress in Paris and Frollo suspects that you were harboring Romani in your shop. It looks like your first start was more tense than you expected...

A/n: I confess that I am in love with the Hunchback of Notre-Dame and I especially love the book. I hope you readers like it, and if you want to give me tips I accept (you can correct me too) If you want other Disney characters, you can ask me💕.

Part.2 (Final)

(Guys, I don't know if you know, but the word "gypsy" is a slur and should not be used, the correct one is "Roma" Or "Romani people" I put "Gypsy" only in Frollo's lines since you know the type of person he is.)

It was just another ordinary day in Paris, you had arrived in the city a few months ago and worked as a dressmaker. You immediately became known for the beautiful dresses you produced for the girls and the beautiful clothes for the boys too. You had an excellent aesthetic sense.

But what you had in the way of talent, you also had in the way of kindness. When you heard about the persecution of the Romani people, you felt touched by the situation and decided to help them. It was very risky, but you weren't going to stand by and let it happen like the other citizens of Paris were doing, letting themselves be manipulated by Frollo and his hate speeches. There was a basement in your house that you used to store fabric and sewing materials. You took advantage of that room to help some Romani hide in case of emergency if they were being chased by the guards and if there was no time to run to the court of miracles.

And so it went on, you were extremely careful not to leave any traces, until one day or another these "rumors" ended up reaching the judge.

You were sewing up the sleeves of a client's dress, which had been placed in the moulage to make it easier for you to work, and your attention now turned to the bell that rang as soon as the door was opened. Immediately, the atmosphere of the place changed when you saw who had entered. You knew those clothes, the face worn by age and you couldn't forget that look of superiority and pride, because himself thought he was important and better than everyone because of his opposition and faith. Looking behind those glass windows, you could also see some of his men at the front of the store:

“Bonjour, madame.” Frollo said sternly, snapping you out of your thoughts. That thick, authoritative voice gave you the creeps. “I'd like to know who owns this establishment. Your husband is here?”

“A-Ah! Good morning...” You forced a smile and stuck the needle into the moulage so you wouldn't lose it. “Your Honor, I'm the owner, and no, I don't have a husband.”

As you said this, the judge looked you up and down with contempt. Of course, in the 16th century, a young woman like you not being married was a disgrace to society, and on top of that, being able to read and owning your own business was even worse. You weren't tense or nervous with him in your store, on the contrary, you were so calm... After all, you cleaned out the basement and removed any evidence as soon as a family of Romani's moved out recently:

“I've received information that you've been harboring gypsies in your house and I'm here to find out the facts, have you been harboring gypsies?” He got straight to the point.

“No, sir.” You pretended to be as honest as possible, fortunately you were good at lying.

“You know that if you lie, the sentence for insubordination is death...” He moved closer in an attempt to intimidate her.

“My conscience is clear. You have permission to investigate my store, since my words don't apply to you.”

“If I wasn't allowed to, seamstress, I'd still make a point of searching this place from top to bottom, whether you agree or not.”

The older man signaled for some of his men to enter the store before you could protest or complain. Since you were the only one who seemed to have enough courage to go against the judge's ideas when you were right. They went in and started rummaging around for clues, looking everywhere, even under the skirts of the dresses on the mannequins.

Frollo looked you up and down in an nothing unobtrusive way, you didn't notice the glances, but as soon as you did, it gave you the creeps and you avoided looking back at him. He had never noticed you in the city before and he noticed your accent, deducing that you might be a foreigner. The judge couldn't take his eyes off you, you were a very beautiful woman and seemed so delicate, and it seems that some feeling awakened in him when he saw that you were without gloves and your dress showed your shoulders. He came out of his thoughts when a guard approached:

"Sir, we've looked everywhere and found nothing..." Being a clever woman, an idea came to your mind: perhaps it would be better if they looked at everything to leave you alone.

"Have you looked in my basement, gentlemen?" you asked, kicking the rug that hid the small door in the wooden floor of your store.

Frollo was suspicious, but sent his men in to search every corner of the small cellar. Fortunately, they didn't find anything either, just sewing materials and expensive fabrics. After looking around in vain, the men left the store, leaving you and the judge alone:

“I apologize for this inconvenience.” He said as you went to the moulage to finish the dress.

“You shouldn't believe every rumor out there, Your Honor, not all of them can be true.” You said politely. “but apologies accepted, I know it was for the good of Paris and you care a lot about the city.”

Returning to work, you thought he would leave after all that had happened and notice you "busy" sewing, but no, he stayed in the store while walking slowly around analyzing his surroundings:

“This basement...” He pointed to the carpet above the small door. “Why was it hidden?”

“I don't see the need to show everyone that I have a basement here.” You replied nonchalantly. “and besides, I think that old door would spoil the pretty look of my store.”

Frollo didn't seem to believe in that very much, but you shrugged and continued sewing. There were a few seconds of silence, you could only hear his footsteps coming towards you and could feel that man's gaze on you all the time, causing you a certain nervousness or fear. What did he want anyway?

“Do you want anything else?” you asked in an attempt to break the silence and take your mind off the discomfort of feeling his gaze on you, stopping your sewing and looking at him now.

“I just want you to know.” He said, standing close and looking at her with disgust. “I'll keep an eye on you, I won't trust a literate, single woman so easily... I know women of your kind.”

“I don't think who I am or what I do has anything to do with helping... Ouch!” You interrupted yourself with pain when you felt the needle pierce your finger. It was normal for this to happen when were working with sewing, but it had never been this deep, Maybe it happened because of the anger you was feeling at that moment.

Immediately you dropped the needle out of sheer instinct, and in a quick and daring moment Frollo grabbed your hand with a certain amount of force, bringing it in front of his face, which had a small smile of satisfaction on it. The judge was a sadomasochist, he enjoyed seeing someone in pain, especially when it was someone he thought deserved such a punishment. You were shocked by his attitude, you weren't expecting it and didn't know how to react. What was he doing? Frollo continued to hold your hand, watching the small drop of blood ooze from your pricked finger, but his attention wasn't just there, it was on your fingers, your soft skin and the sensation it brought when you touched it with the contact of the warm hand and his, which was a little cold:

“What are you doing?” You asked, with a bit of hatred for such a vulgar and daring attitude, and he laughed a little.

“What would the church think of a woman exposing her bare hands in front of a high-ranking man like me?” You had no reaction for fear. Gradually his fingers entwined in yours and you saw that his eyes went to your small cleavage and your bare shoulders. “And it's not just your hands that are exposed...”

You quickly pulled your hand free and he looked at you incredulously:

“My hands are only exposed because I can't wear gloves when I sew, and you still don't have the right to do that. It's in the Bible; If your eye or your hand causes you to sin, throw it away!” A small smile came to Frollo's face when he heard that.

“So bold... It's typical of women like you to turn away from guilt in order to confuse men's minds with pagan thoughts, but that doesn't matter any more...”

He walked away, heading for the door to leave, but first his attention turned to you:

“It was a nice chat, seamstress... I want you to make me a cloak and sew me a pair of gloves, I'll be expecting you to deliver them tomorrow night.”

After saying that, he left, leaving you with no reaction to what had just happened. You were angry, but at the same time relieved that he hadn't found out. As soon as he left, you stared at your hand, which he touched and intertwined with his large, thin fingers. You'd have to be more careful now, he'd be stalking you and the reason wouldn't just be because he suspected you of helping the Romani people, it would be because of something else and you know exactly what it was and what his intentions were...

End...

[red-doll-face]

You're much younger than Arthur. Maybe he doesn't mind as much as he thinks he does...

Low-High Honor Arthur Morgan x fem. reader who is younger than him.

Some head canons that ended up way too long 😭😔 hope you don't mind too much! I am 23 currently so these are really in the mind of reader being over 18 at least. At 23, Arthur is still way older than me so I guess it's just what does it for me! Includes both high and low honor versions. Thanks for reading!! and please let me know if you like them 😭

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only pls, Daddy Kink, Innocence Kink, Corruption Kink, nasty boy low honor arthur being toxic and manipulative (not too badly tho) its ok sweetie arthur is here to balance it out 😳💖💓🥹😳😭

:High Honor:

He had convinced himself that he was way too old for you and quite honestly shut that shit down the second he found his mind wandering to how pretty you were, your own natural beauty catching his eye. He can think you’re sweet and nice, that you understand him and go out of your way to talk to him. Doesn’t matter, he mentally smacks himself for thinking of you past anything like “mentor” or something. He might steal a glance once in a while but he feels bad about it every time. It’s just that, stolen, because in his mind, you don’t belong to him and you never will. He’s more than 10 years your senior, it makes him feel like a dirty old man. Arthur has a strange conflicted energy around you, like he wants to spend time with you but also doesn’t want to come off as creepy or too attached to something that can never be. If you make efforts to be around him, he does appreciate it and will stick around but he always cuts it sort of short. 

Will subtly try to remind himself how young you are, referring to you as girl or kid to others or even to you. He has no idea you think that’s kinda hot. Will jokingly say you’re too young for certain things and thinks it’s cute if you pout and try to fight back against him. Holds alcohol out of your reach and clicks his tongue at you. When you point out the other young women in camp, he’s giving in but only a little, he still watches out for you. He’s protective in the sense that he does see you as someone who needs protecting. He can lie and say it's because of your age but really he just likes you and doesn’t want to admit it.

Anytime you try to get him to understand that you think of him as more than a vague father or brother figure, he’s missing the signs, straight over his head. Light jabs at his age, like calling him Mr. Morgan; make him roll his eyes a little bit but you can catch an endeared smile on his face. Truly a bit hard headed when it comes to noticing that you tease him with more than poking fun in mind. You have to find reasons to touch or kiss him on the cheek. He still might miss physical signs, real dumb dumb behavior. It’s impossible in his head that you would think of him like that. 

If you can get him to open up, having emotionally charged conversations with him is a good way to get him to understand that you care about him at least. Arthur just likes to feel like you’re listening and that you like him enough to care about his thoughts and feelings. If you offer comfort to him in hard times, he’s lowkey simping for you…He can be very closed off, not all too willing to share his truths, especially with someone who may not even understand but if he can be himself around you and you don’t judge, he can forget his feelings about your youth for a moment. 

It’s hard for him to initiate because he’s convinced that if anything were to happen between the both of you, it would be wrong or perverse in some way. If you tell him you like him, he might try to tell you otherwise, trying to get you to think differently of him. Suggests you find someone closer to your age or someone who hasn’t led a life like he has. It’s all really sad because he’s also insinuating that he’ll ruin your life in some way. 

The first time he kisses you will be way too gentle, you’ll hardly call it a kiss. He thinks of himself as too rough for you so he holds back like 99% in an attempt to seem more like a gentleman. It takes you grabbing onto him and deepening your kiss for him to give you more. He’s gentle, hands on your cheeks, holding you like you’ll break if he squeezes too hard. 

Expect a whole lot of “this ain’t right,” or “I’m too damn old for this,” at first. But once you get him to give in, there’s no going back. He gives you his all, no matter what. He does get a bit bashful making things official, especially when there's something to be said about it. John calling him something terrible for being with you like cradle robber or something puts a sour look on his face but he tries his best to power through it. “She ain’t a goddamn baby,” “She might as well be, how old are you again? Or did you lose count?” “Shut the hell up, John.” Hugs and kisses from you definitely make it worth it. He gets a bit used to it, letting things like that stop affecting him so much. 

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you and some small part of him will always believe that you could still be better off with someone else but he gets greedier and greedier with you, the more you love on him, he doesn't want to even think of you with anyone else. He's still so confused that you think he is attractive at his age. He’ll show you pictures of him when he was young and he sort of expects you to say that he was more appealing back then. But you don’t; you just pet his face, his scratchy beard and his sun kissed skin. Arthur lets you see his soft smile when you say you love him right now, more than anything. 

Taking your firsts might put a weird (not bad though) taste in his mouth. First kisses or virginity, he’s nervous he’ll come up short and not be what you're expecting. But his best is more than enough to make you happy. He wants to make your first experiences feel special and memorable, the last thing he wants is to put pressure on you, he just puts way too much pressure on himself. He ends up being just a little too gentle. He needs a lot of praise, a lot of egging on to get more confident. If you beg and plead for more, he can’t say no, he always gives you what you want. Getting him to be more “out there” is a little more difficult. He’s embarrassed to admit he might like when you playfully call him daddy or your old man. The guilt kind of turns him on but he has a hard time coming to terms with that. At his own pace, he’ll indulge more if you’re into it. You’re crossing some weird wires in his head, he swears. If you say it to him in the right context, he’s giving you a shocked look and a halfhearted scolding as he tries not to get turned on in the middle of what he’s doing. “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl,” makes you giggle at him. 

:Low Honor:

He might also be somewhat against it but for different reasons. He thinks girls like you have high expectations and it annoys him. But if he thinks you’re pretty that’s what he thinks. He doesn't let anybody get too close so if he’s thinking about you as more, your age is not something that stops him from doing so. It does just take him some time to think about letting you close enough for anything more than his usual rude demeanor and standoffish personality. 

The only way he'll know he likes you as a bit more than another thankless and ungrateful face in the crowd of people he begrudgingly provides for is if you thank him for bringing money or things back to camp. He gets a little quiet, trying to suss out ulterior motives but he thinks you’re quite adorable. Looks away and says it’s nothing. He’ll indulge you, doing things that are just for you, just to hear you say thank you again. 

He teases you more, emphasizing how young you are, in a way that rubs him the right way. Calling you little girl, intimidating you with his size, or keeping you away from certain things like cigarettes. “These are for grown ups, sweetheart,” If you’re a brat around him, he likes a bit of brat taming. “Dunno, might need to take you over my knee if you’re gonna act like that,” has you gasping and stuttering out a clumsy response.

It’s easy to sway him into taking things further with you. He isn’t one for hanging around the camp, so close to everyone else anyway, he likes his alone time. Catching him when he’s by himself, smoking a cigarette, is a good time to get on his nerves enough to force his hand a little bit. Stand too close to him and run your fingers over the handle of his gun and ask if you can hold it, he’s so close to snapping. The look in his eye under the shadow of his hat makes you feel 5 degrees warmer. “You better quit playin’ games with me, girl. Not sure you know what you’re askin’ for,”  Maybe not the best idea to defiantly ask him to show you.

Then you’re sat on his knee, he’s pressing his mouth into yours, sloppy kisses with no regard for whether you think it’s too much for you or not. He’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, one hand to steady you and the other groping your tits. He’s mostly trying to get you to be as noisy as possible. 

He’s really not guilty at all. Maybe a little but he doesn’t let guilt affect his actions. It may be true that maybe you could be with someone better than him but if you’re with him, you know what you’re in for. You’re his girl and there isn’t anyone else for you if he’s your man. Arthur may not admit it but in the back of his head, there is a voice that whispers to him that one day you’ll leave him behind. He overcompensates for it, doing what he can to see you smile, rather reluctantly asking if you’re happy with him once in a while. If you ask why, he’s unclear, “Jus’… makin’ sure,” your enthusiastic yes, followed by a kiss on his cheek actually flatters him a little, rubbing his neck, a quiet ‘good’ is all he has to say. 

If he gets shit for being with you, he brushes it off. He might get flack from some well meaning people, Hosea or Abigail might tell him to leave you alone, that he should know better. But he thinks they should know better too, Arthur has very little restraint. So if a young pretty thing wants to be his girl, he’s not saying no. Any notions of how guilty he should be don’t come from him. He may think he’s a sinner and a bad man but those things don’t stop him from wanting you. And Arthur always gets what he wants when he can help it. 

Arthur has never given too much thought about what women think of how he looks. He certainly doesn’t think too much of himself and knows he isn’t exactly in his prime, looks wise at the very least. He’s not too confident about his looks or his body really, he’s more confident when it comes to his abilities and skills. So if you tell him you like the way he looks, he isn’t gonna argue, just pleasantly surprised if he happens to believe you. There’s a chance he thinks you're lying. He knows there’s something perhaps a bit off with you, most girls your age don’t give him a second glance but does it stroke his ego when you stare at him, bite your lip when he grabs his belt, pulling all of your attention to the size of his hands and his crotch. 

If you’re softer about your affections for him, he’s happy to accept them too, you’re his little angel, but he has every intention to pull you down from heaven to make you his. You can start with soft touches over his face, rubbing up over his shoulders and chest but he’s quick to pull you deeper with him. His teeth nip softly at your lips, his hands roam all over you.

He's eager to take your firsts, in his twisted little head, he knows he can regulate what you think is normal. He doesn’t have to play gentle and sweet, he bites and sucks marks on you, slaps your ass pretty hard. Arthur’s happy to have himself be the man that ruins you for other men, he’s your first and your last. 

Sorry but he’s kind of toxic, he likes the way you do things like kiss him, or touch him, take him in your mouth; but sometimes he puts on a little bit of an unimpressed face, not exactly bored or anything, just enough to see you try harder to please him. He always gives in; especially when he can tell you’re trying. His proud little smirk and affection are something you might have to work for. Your inexperience is the perfect opportunity to have you eager to make him happy. 

Huge innocence kink, he loves to corrupt you, teach you about what a man does with a woman he likes. Even better if you have no clue, or you think babies come from kissing or something, god is he eager to fuck all of that up. He’s all for you calling him daddy too, the guilt or the imagery or whatever doesn’t do it for other people just makes it so much more appealing to him. Most of the time, he likes to keep your affairs private but once in a while, he’ll show out, just to show who you belong to. If people happen to overhear the racy things you two talk about and they give you a weird look, he just has a knowing smirk for the eavesdropper.

Can you tell that I think age gaps are hot? RDR let me fuck that middle aged man right neow!!! When will they let RDO be about dating Arthur Morgan??? 😔😔😔😔wish he was at least a fuckin stranger mission or something SIGHHHH anyway Thanks for reading and pls let me know if you liked it! Otherwise I'll feel like a freak LMAO

[bitter-me]

Platonic Boothill with a male reader who is like Arlecchino from genshin impact

Male reader is Boothill's long lost brother

The Water is Fine

Boothill | M. Reader as Arlecchino [Genshin Impact] (Platonic)

----------

"Blood runs thicker than water.."

----------

The children gather in one room as they hear their mother's story. They all look at her in awe, she had told them the story multiple times, but it never gets old. Their mother's story was always wonderful. Once she finished her gaze scanned the children before furrowing her eyebrows. "Where's [Name]? Didn't he want to hear the story?"

"'Scuse me, mother! He's doing a funeral for his spider!" One of the children raised her hand, answering her question. She lets out a sigh at the child's words, her expression showing her concerns. "That child... maybe his curse is flaring up again."

Meanwhile, [Name] crouch down in front of the makeshift grave he had for his beloved spider. How sad.. he looks at it with a blank expression until suddenly someone put a hand around his shoulders. "Hey, [Name]! I bought us cake!!" The other claimed, grinning from ear to ear. In his hand was a box filled with two slices of cake. It looks delicious. "You must know spiders don't eat cake.." "Of course I know that!"

The days spend in the orphanage were always nice, peaceful, quiet. One of the siblings favorite activities were playing tag in the garden. The trees makes great terrain for free running and parkour. Always trying to one up the other. The younger was always full of energy, seemingly excited to explore the world, while the elder was reserved, cold, maybe even cruel but he will have a soft spot for the younger.

Stealing cake from the kitchen, picking fruits straight from the tree, playing tag. Life is.. simple.. fun. The world felt so big..

"Look!" He pointed at the shooting star from their window. His eyes seems to sparkle with joy, his gaze never leaving the starry skies. "One day, we're gonna explore the universe! Travel through the stars! Just you and me!" He says happily, hugging his older brother's arm, the two gaze upon the stars with hopes and dreams. What a beautiful sight.. the sky looks so mesmerizing. The world felt so vast and filled with the unknown. "The two of us could be like Rangers through the vast space! Exploring the universe and upholding justice!"

The elder can't help but smile at the other's words. It's sweet. The though is certainly wonderful. To explore the stars with his younger brother. That truly sounded like a dream. "Yeah, we could do that." "And we could find something for your curse too! Oh just imagine what we could find!"

A child's dream..

..is always so sweet..

So... sickly... sweet..

----------

"Run! And don't you dare look back!"

"But--!"

"GO!"

He ran.. he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

He run and run.

Like the gingerbread man...

Why...

Why are they fighting..? And for what..? For the title "King"? What is that for? It's just a title. But it seems it means more than that... with his older brother's words. He run.. run as fast as he could. He's fighting isn't he? He's fighting the others isn't he? Why.. why must this be their reality..

He doesn't know what to do.. he wanted to stay with him. But he can't.. his brother told him to run and to never look back.. it's like a game of tag isn't it? Run as fast as you can.. and try not to get caught.. it's just a game.. a simple game... and yet.. and yet...

----------

"The Knave.. may I know why you're at Penacony?"

"I heard Aventurine had caused quite the trouble.. so I'm here to make this up with the Family. Though it could officially be considered a diplomatic conference, I prefer to see our meeting today as an ordinary tea party. I assume you see it the same way, Mister Sunday?"

"Right, of course. It is an honor to have you here.. Mister Knave.."

"Please.. call me, Arlecchino."

.

.

.

.

.

"What in the cosmos are these kids doing here?" The question come out as harsh, his accents sounded thick as he dodge an attack from one of them. Those three children.. fighting for what? Father was it..? That's who they're fighting for? What a load of Wubbabbo.

"Careful now.. you can't reason with an outlaw.."

"..Father..?"

A man steps out of the room, his gaze is cold, carrying himself in an elegant way that just screams absolute authority. Their gaze locked on each other for what felt like an eternity, a sense of recognition wash over them, until finally..

"You.. why are you with them?"

"Why? I thought you already know.. leave Penacony. The dreamscape is not meant for outlaws like you.."

Gritting his teeth, the other look at the man with betrayal in his eyes. How could he.. how could he side with the enemy? After what they've done... how could he just.. he could shoot him.. he could shoot him now.. he could kill him now.. and yet.. he can't... he can't just..

Even if he sided with the enemy.. he's still.. they're still..

"Come you three, our work is finish."

'Yes, Father."

The days spend in the orphanage were always nice, peaceful, quiet. Stealing cake from the kitchen, picking fruits straight from the tree, playing tag. Life is.. simple.. fun. The world felt so big..

The House of the Hearth...

.....that was their home...

..until it wasn't...

...it all happened at the same day...

where his older brother...

.....was crowned as "King."

...

Blood runs thicker than water...

..is that why it felt heavy when he saw his older brother walk away with three children by his side? One he had turned into soldiers for the House of the Hearth? For the IPC? Because ultimately....

They too once stand in those three children's positions.. soldiers.. unknowingly, that is..

And now... the "King" is continuing the cycle..

His own flesh and blood that he had looked up to.

[lovelytsunoda]

love, actually | robert 'bob' floyd

summary: recently appointed admiral robert floyd feels overwhelmed in his new position, and unprepared to fill the shoes of the late admiral thomas kazansky. when he inherts the job, he also inherits tom's old secretary. cue the romance. inspired by hugh grant's storyline in love, actually

pairing: admiral!bob floyd x secretary!reader

warnings: mentions of death and greif was she secretly in love with that old man (because same) we may never know! mentions of addiction (but not with our two main characters!), can be considered to be a minor part of the heather and tommy universe (see 'tell me something girl (are you happy in this modern world)!) so many navy inaccuracies it would make a real admiral's head spin, professionalism simply does not exist in the pacific fleet

the office was barren, devoid of the remarkable life that had once occupied it. the large oak desk that had once held family photos and love notes from the admiral's wife was now empty, save for the top of the line desktop computer. admiral kazansky's wife and kids had been by earlier in the week to collect his things. bob hadn't been there, but he'd heard from natasha that it wasn't a pretty sight. she said that heather kazansky looked frail, and slightly lost without her husband of thirty years by her side. tom was her soulmate, and she'd gone through the pain of watching him die slowly.

cancer was a bitch.

this wasn't how he had wanted to come in to the job. although it was no doubt that he was the best man to lead the pacific fleet (and with an endorsement from maverick mitchell, nobody was going to question his appointment.), he was now wondering if he was really ready.

"admiral floyd?"

bob turned around. standing in the doorway in a skirt that was certainly not navy issued, was a tall young woman with round glasses and soft features. she wore no makeup save for the mascara on her eyelashes.

"hi, i'm y/n. i was admiral kazansky's secretary. and, i suppose, i'm now yours." her voice was soft and gentle, like music to bob's ears. "i brought your welcome packet and agenda for the day."

"admiral robert floyd." he stuck his hand out for her to shake, ignoring how clammy his palms suddenly seemed to feel. "but please, call me bob."

"that's your callsign, right? does it mean anything?"

bob rolled his eyes. "baby on board. they call me that because of my youthful appearance."

she laughed briefly, a cheerful and somewhat abrupt sound, before she looked at the empty office, her face falling again. "he was a good man."

"he was." bob agreed somberly.

"i loved that old man, i really did."

for a second, bob felt like something had tripped in his brain. she loved him? it seemed so cliche when he thought about it, but weren't cliches there for a reason? the pretty young secretary with the silver fox admiral. but what about heather? and his kids? he'd been married to heather since 1987, and from what bob knew of the admiral, he was an honorable man in all aspects of life.

this confusion must have shown on bob's face, because the secretary simply laughed, turning to face him with her arms crossed over her baby blue blouse.

"like a father, admiral. admiral kazansky and i were never involved. he was a family man. i'm the same age as his middle child." she didn't know why she was spitting out words like this. divulging too much information would be unprofessional and- "i actually used to go out with his eldest son when i first started working here. i was young and dumb and mitchell kazansky was a few years older and smooth talking. and then i broke up with him and he went to rehab. he's doing good now. he got married four years ago, i think. i've met his wife, she's a sweet girl." stop. fucking. talking. y/n.

in truth, bob only caught half of the word vomit. he was too preoccupied with the way her eyes sparkled behind her glasses, and the way her crossed arms accidentally pushed up her cleavage. she was totally wearing a push up bra. jake and bradley could probably even accurately guess her boob size. bob couldn't, but didn't need to to wonder what it would be like to rest his head against them, feeling her arms wrap around his tired frame.

"anyways." she exhaled, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "i'll let you settle in. just so you know, your friday meeting with the commanders got moved up. it's nothing to worry about. come find me at lunch and i'll give you the brief. i used to make them for tom all the time, especially when he got sick."

"thank you." bob said graciously. "i really appreciate it. would you actually mind staying with me during the meeting? just to make sure i don't put my foot in my mouth."

she smiled, passing him a file folder. "of course, admiral. i'd love to."

the afternoon meeting came faster than bob would have wanted, and he was still struggling to make heads or tails of half the reports that his secretary had left on his desk. having a meeting this soon into his tenure seemed unusual, and for a moment he wondered about the severity of the content being discussed.

of course, he couldn't worry for long. through the panes of glass in the office doors, he could see y/n out at her desk, applying a thin layer of chapstick while she waited on hold with someone. her desk was filled with little baubles and a few small plants were on the filing cabinet behind her.

she looked calm and carefree, unbothered. and bob was smitten. completely and totally smitten. sure, it was a workplace harassment suit waiting to happen. and yes, it was never a good idea to get involved with people at work, especially when you outranked them.

but in that moment, bob floyd simply couldn't care less. especially when she gave him a flirty little wave from behind her desk, and even more so when the collar of her shirt dipped just enough that bob could see the edge of her lacy white bra.

this woman was going to be the death of him.

"bob?" she called out, poking her head through the doorway. "the commanders are here earlier than expected. have you had a chance to look over the notes?"

fuck. he couldn't admit that he was so distracted that he forgot to read the file. "uh, about half of it?" he explained sheepishly. "it's a lot."

she flashed him an understanding smile. "if you get lost in the meeting, i can take over. i used to do it for tom all the time."

"thank you. you're a lifesaver."

she winked, backing out of the room. "you owe me one, admiral."

the commanders filed into the meeting room, gathering around the round oak table like they were king arthur's knights. bob recognized a few of them, including jake seresin. he took a seat underneath the world map that was used to plot out missions, y/n taking a seat beside him.

and bob floyd wished he was a better man because as soon as he saw that skirt slip up her plush thigh, he was a goner. he forgot why he was even in that meeting in the first place. to his credit, he did fairly well, answering questions about the transition of power in the pacific fleet, and what was going on with some current matters that had gone unfinished when the previous admiral had passed. whenever bob seemed to stutter or falter in any way, y/n jumped in to rescue him, with a well-worded response delivered in such an effortless manner that he wondered why he was the admiral and not her.

jake caught him staring, a glean of admiration in his eyes as he watched the secretary (who was one of only two women in the room, by the way) outline a budget for the coming year. the commander kicked his former platoonmate under the table, holding back a laugh. bob shot him a dirty look before redirecting his attention to y/n.

after the meeting, and after shaking hands with what felt like every commander in san diego, jake stayed behind to chat with bob, eager to 'catch up' on everything the other had missed since their assignment with maverick. but really, jake just wanted to rib his coworker about the pretty secretary.

"dude, kazansky's secretary? come on."

"jake, shut up." bob could feel his face going pink. "it would be unprofessional at best, harassment at worst. her boss just died, for god's sake!"

jake laughed, hands tucked into the pockets of his dress whites. "i'm sure that they make porno's about this kind of thing. i say go for it. you only live once, admiral."

"hangman, go fuck yourself."

there was a knock on the office door, and y/n stuck her head inside the office. "admiral floyd, commander seresin. its five, so im on my way out. if you need anything, there's a post-it with my personal number on it in your welcome packet. don't stay too late, you'll make me look bad." she grinned at bob, waving at him before ducking back out of the office again.

bob shouted after her, something along the lines of 'see you in the morning', but he couldn't hear himself think over the sound of jake's laughter.

"what!"

"dude, look below your fucking belt. you're fucked."

_______

life went on, and bob found himself settling into his role as admiral nicely. of course, he wasn't doing it alone. y/n was a massive help in meetings, and they had started tag-teaming on important topics: putting together elaborate slide presentations, models and poster boards before every meeting with the fellow admirals or the commanders. there was a meeting with the president's aide scheduled for the new year, and surprisingly, bob wasn't worried about it. he had even gone as far as to help y/n decorate the office for christmas.

every day, she showed up in a trendy, fashionable and flattering outfit that definitely went against navy regulations, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. especially not when those leather slacks of hers made him so achingly hard that he spent half of his lunch break in the private bathroom jerking off. it wasn't the good admiral's fault that his secretary was so stunningly beautiful and sweet and kind and funny and so many other things that made him wonder if it was finally time to consider finding a life partner.

the pair had started sharing their lunch breaks, and bob was enjoying getting to know her outside of the office. she was easy to talk to, and he was convinced he had never laughed as much as he had when he was with her.

and that's why he was so worried when he saw that she had put in for a transfer request.

_____

they were one week out from christmas, and the base was getting ready to send all non-essential staff home. that meant that y/n was getting a much needed break, and while bob would be considered to be 'on-call', he got to go home as well. the last meeting of the year was finished, and y/n was cleaning up the round table in the conference room when she heard hushed voices from the cracked door in bob's office.

"robert, you understand what you're getting yourself into, right? the kind of trouble you'd be opening up for her?" natasha trace's voice was low and not quite venomous, but not calm either. "don't think that people haven't figured out why you hide in the bathroom over your lunch break, bradley told me about your little crush. you can't act on it, bob. i'm sorry, but you just can't. she's your subordinate. unless one of you transfers out. no matter how much you think you'd be able to make it work, it just not possible."

"i love her, phoenix. and i don't know what to do."

"you keep your mouth shut and your dick in your pants. that's what you do."

she felt her heart grow tight in her chest. bob was in love with someone? it was probably another soldier, or a pilot. or, and she hesitated at the thought, was bob floyd falling in love with her?

she didn't know if she wanted to find out. because if she was wrong, and bob didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him, it was going to lead to a lot of heartbreak.

she put in for a transfer to another fleet later that week.

________

"what the fuck? how could this happen, phoenix? what did you say to her?"

natasha gaped at the frazzled admiral, who was pacing behind his desk. "what did i say to her? i didn't say shit, bob. she must have overheard us and gotten the wrong idea."

it was christmas eve, and bob didn't even know why he'd come into the office. he supposed it was because he wanted everything pressing to be done before the holidays, but seeing the neon blue transfer request paper on his desk had thrown him for a loop.

"i can't function without her. she keeps this office going." bob wailed, running his fingers through his hair. "i need her."

"yeah." jake snorted. "in more ways than one."

"can it, hangman." natasha scolded. "you'd have to find a really good, sound reason for denying the transfer, you know. keeping her here without one would be an abuse of power."

"you think i don't fucking know that?"

"there is another solution here." bradley bradshaw suggested, leaning against the side of the desk. "her address would be in her files, right? why don't you go and talk to her?"

actually.....that wasn't a terrible idea.

"no." natasha glared at him, almost as if she could read his mind. "that would be another glaring abuse of power. do none of you have functioning brain cells? this is psychotic."

"but it could work." bob mused, scrambling to boot up his computer. "what woman doesn't love a grand romantic gesture?"

"that's my boy." jake roared with laughter, clapping him in the shoulders. "let's make this christmas miracle happen."

bob scrambled to pull up her personnel file, scribbling a street address down in his messy cursive. "okay, okay. how do we know she's home? i mean, it's christmas eve. she could be with family, or with friends-"

"trust your gut, admiral." jake encouraged. "rooster, grab the keys to the bronco!"

"i'm surrounded by idiots!" natasha cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "why am i even here?"

there was a fleeting sense of nostalgia as the former dagger squad members piled into rooster's sleek black bronco. it was cold for california, albeit the lake of snow on the ground. a strong wind was coming in off the ocean, pushing the bronco closer to y/n's house. bob was jittery, working his way through everything he wanted to say.

because how did he tell a woman that he loved her without even having gone out with her yet?

"alright, take a left at this next set of lights, and then a left at the stop sign after that." jake instructed, reading directions off of his phone. rooster was going at least ten over the speed limit, and natasha was praying that there were no police officers around.

"that's her house!" bob shouted, jumping to attention in the backseat. "the one with the the three volkswagens in the driveway. she still lives with her parents, the whole family drives german cars. i remember her bringing it up over lunch one day."

the bronco skidded to a stop in the middle of the road, forced to slow abruptly when bob threw his door open. natasha chased him out of the car, followed up by jake while bradley worried about where to park on the unforgivingly small street.

bob ran up the driveway, in between an suv and a sport model jetta before practically launching himself at the doorbell.

"y/n?" he called, ringing the bell. "its admiral floyd! can we talk for a minute?"

"she cant hear you, dipshit." jake reminded gently. "just wait for her to answer the door."

the front door crept open, y/n standing nervously behind it in a christmas sweater and jeans. on her feet where two large slippers that looked like reindeer heads.

"admiral floyd? what are you doing here?"

"please don't transfer." bob pleaded, the words coming out in a single breath. "i don't know what i would do without you. you consume my every waking thought, every breath. these past few months working with you have been the most rewarding months of my career and i know how selfish it must sound of me to beg you not to go, but the truth is that i've fallen in love with you, y/n y/l/n. and i can't let you leave the fleet without making sure that you know that."

she stood frozen in the doorway for a minute before a wide smile broke out over her face. "come here you big doofus."

she stepped out onto the front porch, grabbing bob by the lapels of his tommy hilfiger trench coat and pulled him in for a kiss. his eyes widened in shock before he leaned into it, arms settling to hold her protectively.

"i put in the transfer request so you could ask me out, admiral." she whispered, giggling slightly. "i guess it worked."

"yeah." bob breathed, leaning in to kiss her again. "i guess it did."

"god damn it!" bradely shouted, out of breath and he came up the driveway. "don't tell me i missed everything trying to find somewhere to park my fucking car?"

y/n laughed, pulling away from bob. "do you guys want to come inside? i'd feel awful making you stand out here in the cold."

jake shrugged. "why the hell not."

"cassie's here, so behave yourself." y/n warned, referring to tom kazansky's youngest, whom jake had a history of hitting on.

jake perked up. "oh, cassandra!" he called, walking into the house

"not a chance, seresin. teddy and i are still very happily married!" a voice called from within the living room.

"god damn it!"

y/n turned to look at bob. "i made a massive mistake inviting them in, didn't i?"

bob chuckled, kissing her forehead. "yeah. but i wouldn't be here without them, so cut them some slack. come on, let's go celebrate christmas."

[tarnishedsilverjewelry]

Hola! Me alegro de ver otro blog de M ^^

Can I request Bi-Han as a parent of a boy or girl around 4 or 5 years old who is very clingy? they don't leave his side and follow him wherever he goes. I love clingy kids, they're so adorable, and I definitely love reading domestic Bi-han.

What fatherhood does to a man

A/n: It’s getting harder and harder to NOT name these ‘The father That stepped up’ guys😭 Also, ah yes the grumpy old man and adopted sunshine child trope my BELOVED!!!! Also I see everyone saying Bi Han is mean and I’ve seen some ppl make him abusive WHICH IS WRONG!!!!! He is raised on tradition!!! Tomas says a line that says “his father’s honor” insisted on taking him in!! HES GRUFF AND A GENTLEMAN!!! HES ONLY MEAN TO HIS BROTHERS🗣️🗣️🗣️….sorry I got a little heated there💔 also also this is based on something saw here (I can’t remember who posted it, sorry) which was like what if Bi Han was pretending and didn’t actually betray his brothers so…yeah

Warnings: Mentioned death, blood and gore. Also angst. Bi Han actually has a heart guys‼️‼️‼️ so maybe ooc and also also no use of Y/n. The child has a name:3

Bi Han stared at the small girl in front of him

She and her family had unfortunately been caught in Lin Kuei battles, which led to the death of her parents by the hands of the enemy clan.

Bi Han stared at her, clutching her fathers cold hand with both of hers begging him to wake up saying that mommy wasn’t waking up either with a blood covered blanket and two stuffed animals crammed under her arms. One bright pink winged-cat plushy and a pastel pink and pastel purple unicorn with holographic tinsel in its mane

Bi Han sighed, and walked towards her, going in his knees to seem less scary. “Child, your parents will not wake..I…I’m sorry.” She turned to him, tears pouring out of her eyes and in a shakey voice asked “Why not?” Bi Han sucked in a breath.

He was a man most acquainted with seeing gore and death. Seeing bodies and blood with nothing new to him, but she couldn’t be older than 4. She’d lived in a secluded house with her parents and farm animals, and he doubted they would slaughter the animals in front of her.

“They…were caught in the cross fire. And unfortunately they have ascended to the heavens, and cannot bring you with them.” How he wished his brothers were here. He was raised to see emotions has weak as the future Grandmaster. “But they will watch over you and guide you as best they can from where they are.” He added quickly, remembering the line from the day Tomas was brought home

The girl nodded, and looked back at her parents corpses. “Oh. So I’m all alone?” Bi Han shook his head. “No, if you allow me to..I will take care of you. I know I will never replace your parents, but I will try to raise you fairly.” The blue ninja awkward opened his arms for her, and she collapsed in them sobbing.

Bi Han would normally be annoyed with the child, but now seeing a girl so young lose her whole life in one night by the enemy…he couldn’t even imagine being upset with her. Not when she got snot and tears on his uniform (not the shoulder he didn’t want to accidentally hurt her with the pointed shoulders), or when she asked him to gather what little remained of her old life.

When Tomas bright with him a small box of memories from his old family—he’d scoffed at it. Tomas would be a Lin Kuei now, he had a new family now. What did he need with memories from before?

But now? Now he understood. Bi Han helped her find what remained from her old room—A few pink floral pillow, 3 hand made quilts, a set of slightly burnt ice skating gear, and more stuffed animals—before finding a box large enough to fit what little was salvageable. When something caught his eye. On the floor was a fallen bookcase, and strewn across the floor were pictures of her parents.

Bi Han asked her if she’d like them, and she nodded trying to wiggle out of his grip. “No, there is glass on the floor. You don’t have shoes on, you could be hurt.” She nodded, sulking only slightly. Bi Han set the box down and helped her pick out 5 pictures of her parents, and 3 of all three of them. He even managed to find two fairly large photo albums that were fairly good condition to take too.

“Bi Han?!” Finally, his brothers were here. The girl whimpered slightly and leaned back against him. “It’s alright. It is only my brothers.” He assured her quietly, repacking her things before walking out. “Brother wh—“ Kuai Liang stopped short seeing the girl tear streaked face and covered in soot and blood. “Oh dear..” he muttered, walking forward.

Tomas followed him, reaching out for the box Bi Han held. “Hello there,” He smiled slightly at her “my name is Kuai Liang. What is yours?” She peered up at Bi Han who nodded slightly at her “Chao-Xing.” She muttered, cuddling further into his elder brother. “How old are you, Chao-Xing?” Tomas asked softly. “I turned 4 yesterday.”

Bi Han silenced their bubbling questions, looking down at the uncomfortable girl who was growing more and more tired. “Enough questions, let’s head back. She is tired.” He said firmly, taking the lead of the group who nodded.

They arrived at camp in two hours, and would be back at the compound the next afternoon if they left before first light. “Grandmaster!” Sektor called loudly, drawing attention. Chao-Xing stirred slightly, and Bi Han silenced her with a glare. “Quiet, Sektor. We will talk soon.” He growled, breezing past her heading for the tent that had been set up for him.

Bi Han tucked her into his bed, leaving the box of her things at the foot of the bed and left guards with stern orders to find him if she startled awake. Then he left to find Sektor and his brothers.

That night, he slept in the chair in his large tent, and when he woke Chao-Xing was curled up in his lap. Bi Han picked her up and wrapped her up in the small throw blanket that was on his bed to keep her warm on the journey.

He oversaw the clan packing up tents as the sun rose, and when Chao-Xing woke up he plated her some breakfast and ate with her on his right knee. The journey to the compound was quick, Chao-Xing fell back asleep some time before arriving and awoke to him ordering someone to clean her things and take them to her new room.

“Chao-Xing, would you like a tour of the compound? I can show you the gardens?” Kuai Liang offered, and she nodded somewhat hesitantly. “Not yet, she needs lunch first. And then she’s getting her measurements taken for new clothes, and then a trip to the medics.” Bi Han told his brother. Hua frowned. “No shots?” She asked quietly. “If they aren’t needed, then no.” She seemed satisfied with that, and let Bi Han take her to wherever her lunch was

After her trip to the doctors, where she thankfully got not shots, Kuai Liang and Tomas took her around the compound and ended the tour in the flower gardens. Chao-Xing enjoyed the gardens, mainly for the koi pond in it.

“Careful Chao-Xing! Don’t fall in!” Tomas laughed, gently pulling her away from the edge of the pond “I like fishes. Pretty.” She replied, looking at the fish in awe. “Yes they’re quite pretty, aren’t they? Maybe in the morning you can come out here and help feed them.” Kuai Liang said, enjoying the way her smile widened

At dinner time, Bi Han found them laying in front of the koi pond with Chao-Xing between his brothers. “Chao-Xing, dinner.” He said, voice surprisingly gentle. She stood up and ran over to him, talking about how pretty the fish were. “Yes the fish are very pretty.” He agreed, eyes drifting to his brothers in silent thanks.

Kuai Liang talked about her possibly feeding the fish, which made her perk up. So of course he agreed, and said he’d do it with her. But only if she ate her veggies at dinner. She poured up at him, but he managed to keep strong against her puppy dog eyes

Tomas struggled to not point out how easily he took to fatherhood.

Weeks passed, and soon Chao-Xing had been here a full month. It became routine for Bi Han to wake up to her curled up in his bed, and before breakfast they would feed the koi fish together. Then he’d help her chose an outfit and get dressed, go eat breakfast and train while Chao-Xing did her lessons

Chao-Xing proved to be a very smart girl, and finished her lessons an hour early every day (unless it was cursive then she finished her lessons on time) and always watched him train with his brothers

Then it was time for lunch, after which Bi Han would take her to the sides of the training grounds and meditate with her before teaching her basic stances for kombat. After that, she really had free rein to do anything within reason. But she chose to follow him around quietly.

Her wide eyes never strayed far from him, she even would sit outside his office during meetings. He would exit to see her staring up at him, pink winged cat plush in hand. She was always hot on his heels, and he didn’t mind too much. She was 4, and lost her family in a very traumatic situation. He couldn’t understand fully, but he could be sympathetic.

One night when he was tucking her in, and checking for monster per her request he asked her. “Why do you not sleep in your bed? I don’t mind waking up to you in my bed, I’m only wondering.” Chao-Xing sniffled and admitted “I keep getting afraid you’ll go where mommy and daddy went. And I’ll be alone.” Bi Han swallowed thickly. “Even if I did go there, which I’m not, you would still have the Lin Kuei to look after you, and Kuai Laing and Tomas to care for you.” She smiled a little at him. Bi Han smiled back.

He didn’t mind when he’d wake up in the middle of the night to her gentle knocks, when her night terrors got bad, when she followed him around, watched him train even though she seemed to hold little interest in becoming a ninja like him.

He didn’t mind, but others did apparently

His brothers made no comment about it, mainly because they had seen Tomas in the same way for many years. But Sektor had made a small comment about it. “I never understood why parents allowed their child to cling to them in such a way.” Chao-Xing tilted her head at the words, eyes dampening with sadness. “Well I’m sure that the parents don’t mind. They are their children, after all.” He growled, eyes narrowing at her.

Chao-Xing may not have understood the message, but Sektor did.

‘Never talk like that about my daughter again’

BONUS! DIALOGUE BETWEEN KOMBATANTS

Bi Han: You were so easy to trick

Shang Tsung: You are weak to think of a child over greatness

Shang Tsung: My offer still stands, with your power our victory will be assured!

Bi Han: I would never betray my family for your petty lies

Liu Kang: I did not take you for the kind for fatherhood

Bi Han: neither did I

Bi Han: was there a chance I would betray my family in this timeline?

Liu Kang: Your daughter changed the timeline in more ways than one

Kuai Liang: I never thought I would be an uncle

Bi Han: I never though I would be a father

Bi Han: I apologize for making you think I would betray you, brother

Kuai Liang: Just tell me your plan next time, and I’ll be happy.

Tomas: What does Chao-Xing want for her birthday?

Bi Han: She keeps asking for a puppy, which she won’t be getting

Bi Han: I apologize for making you think I would betray you, brother

Tomas: I forgive you brother, just warn us next time.