#but eventually they all come to care about him

[sugardaddy-glucoseguardian]

Amazing yes

- Danny is visiting Gotham and the big ass lizard man is throwing a tantrum in the middle of the street. Danny who is used to his rogues doing the same shot when they wanna play fight just body's croc. Everyone is confused, croc is snapped out of it and instantly goes, fuck it. And throws down. Bats show up to croc and some feral meta out of towner rolling around throwing punches and snapping teeth at each other while growling.

- Danny is sick and tired of the smog in Gotham, between not being able to see the stars and Sam complaining about the pollution he wanted it fixed. Together with Sam, Tucker said nah fuck that, they went to Dr.Pamela Isley in Robinson Park. Ivy is very amused by the young adults that come into her park complaining about pollution.

She's actually intrigued when the girl has the same pull to the green she has. The flowers in the garden tilting towards her when she got angry.

- Danny HATED clowns. Freakshow made it an ingrained response. You can't control him if you aren't conscious. So when he goes to Gotham to visit Jazz at GU he sees the Joker and it ON SIGHT. No warning, just Joker monologuing in the street to some Bats and a crazy out of towner comes sprinting from an alleyway and just takes him out at the waist. Full body collision before Joker can even react to being tackled and point his gun the feral little shit is already punching his face in.

The Bats aren't sure if they need to rescue this civilian from the Joker or the Joker from the civilian. By the time they move to at least separate the two, the Joker is beaten black and blue and unconscious and the random guy is growling with bloodied fists hunched over his body like a wild animal defending its kill.

- Selina Kyle was expecting her haul tonight to be diamonds, maybe a ruby and this cute cat sculpture she saw yesterday. Her plans are completely derailed when a small whimper comes from the alley below her.

Quickly circling back she sees a little girl, probably 12 and softly glowing... melting. She quickly hurries down to her, she looks terrified and in pain.

"Hello, my name is Catwoman, can I ask what happened sweetie? And how can I help?" The little girl has green tears running down her face and Selina watches as she seems to shrink before her eyes, 10, 8, her eyes scream fear and Selina has no idea what to do. She presses the panic button Bruce gave her for emergencies.

"I-it hurts. Please, I don't wanna die, please it hurts, i don't wanna go again!" The little girl sobbed and Selina had a horrific realization.

This little girl was gonna die and there was nothing she could do to help her.

So she stayed and whispered comforting words and held her in her arms, smaller and smaller she shrunk, 6, 4, 2 she seemed to stop there. A sobbing glowing 2 year old with melted feet and dripping hands.

Bruce landed behind her. She could tell he didn't know what to do either. Finally Selina pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and the baby stopped crying, looking up at her with eyes far older than her tiny body and she collapsed into herself, all that was left was a small gemstone with swirls of blue and green cradled in her arms.

Selina sobbed. And Bruce held her as they mourned a child they never knew.

(Oops sorry was gonna go cute and it got away from me, I'm thinking dani will reform with Selina and Bruce taking care of her core and she eventually grows as a normal child instead of the forced growth she was originally created with. Also since she was actually 2yrs old that's how old she'd be when she reforms)

- Jazz moved to Gotham for an internship at a local therapy office, her goal being to gain experience and move to Arkham. Her liminal abilities have made her an empath. With low levels of compulsion. She was walking into work and some girl was just standing outside the building staring.

The emotions that rolled off her were, nervous, scared, angry, confused, excited, scared, determined. Jazz approached and carefully moved into her line of sight. She had shoulder length black hair, deep dark eyes, pale skin and looked to be of some possible asain desent. She was beautiful but looked at Jazz with the blankest eyes and emotionless face she's ever seen.

"Hi, my names Jazz and I work here. I don't know if you have an appointment you're working yourself up for or something, but I know therapy can be a scary experience for a lot of people. I can walk you through it if it'll help?" The girl opens her mouth then hesitates.

"How?" She whispers and Jazz feels relief and confusion though nothing shows on her face or body language.

Jazz assumes the question is how she knew? "Ah well, you looked like you needed some encouragement, you've already down the hardest part, you're here and looking for help." Again no expressions but emotions zap through the air, more confusion, weariness, and the breiftest hint of hope.

The girl slowly raises her hands and Jazz takes half a second to recognize the sign language.

Can you understand me?

She smiled and quickly thanked herself for learning signlanguage in highschool.

Yes! Can I help you get in?

She nodded and they walked in together. Jazz ended up staying for Cass as her translator and the relief pouring off of Cass was so strong she thought she was gonna cry just from being in range. Hopefully Cass gets the needed relief she's looking for in therapy. And maybe Jazz gets a friend out of it too.

- Jason is sick and tired of his siblings prodding making jokes that cause he was dead for a good chunk of his teen years he never got to sleep around or even go on a date.

So he tells himself he's gonna go to a bar, pick someone up and have a one night stand and get this shit over with so his siblings leave him alone. The bar was crowded and loud and Jason hated it.

The wall he was leaning against was sticky and the alcohol in his hand was only half drank. He couldn't relax and he felt so uncomfortable, this wasn't a stake out where he had something to focus on, he was supposed to be chatting and dancing and making out with someone. He knocked back his drink, annoyed with himself.

He left.

He came back three more times in the next week, each time he was just as uncomfortable and no one approached the dude who glowered in the corner of the room. No one except Danny.

Danny was a bartender and trying to make ends meet. Alcohol was easy to serve and he was strong enough no fights made it past a single punch before they were thrown out. He'd been watching the guy come and go for several days now and each time the guy looked like it physically pained him to come in. Danny wondered what the hell he was trying to do clearly forcing himself to come to a place he definitely didn't enjoy.

On the fifth time the guy ordered and moved to his wall Danny decided he wanted to know more. Curiosity killed the cat but you can't kill what's already dead.

"Hey man, what's with the face? You look like you've been dragged here against your will." Danny joked as he slid up next to the guy on his lunch break. The dude glanced down at him, clearly doing a once over of his body, top to bottom, and Danny raised a brow. Really? Dude was here for a lay and decided the best way to do that was to stand in the dark and glare?

"Wanna hook up?" He asked, well more like hurriedly demanded. Danny raised the other brow. Not that he wasn't interested but the guy looked like he was gonna throw up. Danny glanced at his drink, he knows he'd only had the one but the man was so clearly out of his comfort zone Danny felt like maybe the hookup should wait till the guy actually wanted to instead of looking like he was forcing himself.

"Hm, how about we start with names? Like hi, my name is Danny Nightingale what's your name?" The guy blushed from his chest to the tips of his ears. His shoulders curled in and he sheepishly answered, "Jason, names Jason Peters.. Sorry, didn't mean to jump you like that, im... trying to.." He trailed off, looking mortified. Danny giggled. Jason was cute ok?

"Well how about this Jason, ypu clearly aren't the type to pick up one night stands and I'm not sure why you think you need to. But if you wanna get laid that bad, pick me up tomorrow at GU and take me on a date. I'll see if we can get you laid." He smirked leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and walked away.

He hopes he will take him up on it.

Write below a Batfamily meets Danny Fenton story but choose the wildest relationship that you can think of that isn’t adoption or a romantic relationship

For instance:

- breaking into a building for a drug bust but they got the wrong building number and broke into Danny’s apartment.

- gets met over and over because Condiment King of all people continuously kidnaps him for plots

- was brought to the GCPD for wrestling Killer Croc at 3am high as a kite over a new fear gas drug that’s been making its rounds through Gotham.

- accidentally smacked the coffee out of Danny’s hands while catching a perp.

[twistedpink]

IK I’ve miniposted about this before, but like.. Accents and quirks just do something to me. You know deep down, you’re into them too!! “English” is written as “Common” like in dnd, which I’m pretty sure is the canon language in twst

Riddle Rosehearts, that despite being raised all prim and proper in the queendom, just can’t drop his accent no matter how hard he studies. His niche lingo and references confuse everyone else- Even his own countrymen, because everything he says is outdated by at least a couple decades. It’s so much worse when you get into his head with all your “contemporary language”, it’s like a professional pickleball player trying to translate magicam into textbook logic.. Which if you’ve ever written a caption, DOESNT WORK. You love him all the same though, even if he’s a permanent senior <3

Octavinelle that’s made to learn multiple languages with vastly different systems for tone and dialect to even consider studying on land, and rely on you for translation in their first year :( Just imagine Floyd hanging off your shoulders, popping and clicking words in his native language to whisper the nastiest things he can muster- Just for your teachers to ask what he’s trying to say while he giggles into the fat of your blushy cheeks. Jade messing with your hands or mouth in public because “that is.. How we talk. At my home.” You’re smart enough to know they’re not that touchy under the sea, but you indulge him, as a treat for beating out his twin in appropriate articulation. Azul floundering (with elegance, ofc) in his first couple dealings while you whisper translations in his ear- You’re much too close, and he’s no guppy! <3

Jamil Viper, that unlike Kalim, doesn’t have all the professional teaching in common. He’s far from beginner, but there’s a clear divide- He’s self taught, and it gives him the cutest accent!! He slips into his native tongue most often when he’s upset and can’t communicate with all the adrenaline,, Maybe if you like the way he sounds so much, he’ll be willing to teach you a couple words! Can’t guarantee they won’t be targeted insults, though,, <3

Idia Shroud with an accent and stutter,, You can barely understand his common when he gets into those mumbly rants, and you’re the only who really cares what he’s saying in the first place! Eventually, you guys get into relationship-telepathy territory where you communicate almost exclusively with text and body language- But that doesn’t help your poor classmates, especially the ones in his dorm, that need him to speak for events and housewarden wisdom. Point for Idia, ig? Translator and partner acquired!! <3

Diasomnia with HEAVY accents and ANCIENT common vocabulary!!!! Lilia’s accent is the heaviest, and Sebek’s the lightest (even if he plays it up for his ego) but all of their vocab is a mash of textbook definitions and clunky, outdated slang. Silver has the easiest time with learning modern common on account of his native language still being human, but when he’s especially tired there’s zero common coming out of his mouth, and there’s been SO many incidents of him “speaking tongues”. Malleus hates his accent when he’s at school- It only makes it harder for people to understand him than it already is, but if you think it’s attractive I’m sure it lightens the blow <3

[isaisliterallyhim]

heyyyy love your fics <333

can you do sugar daddy Kaiser who's always been rude and rough with reader but one day when he realises he's falling in love with them he's really gentle, asking how they feel and praising them? if possible can you do fluff along with nsfw???

ahh hii anon!! thank uu i appreciate ur words <33 anywayss i love the plot ohh gosh ygs r so creative omg

"And all I wanna do is stay with HER"

ft. michael kaiser . sugar daddy! kaiser . ooc! kaiser lol... . ness is in the story omg! . is ness ooc! too... . yes ness is ooc asw . character development.? . eventual smut . sex gulp... . piv ! . afab! reader . mistreated! reader ... . fluff asw . unreliable narrator

wc: 1.0k

"she's annoying." kaiser grumbled, taking a sip of wine. ness looked at him, "[name] cares about you that's why." the magician tried to lighten the mood. clearly, it didn't work.

"she just wants fucking money." he retorted. ness frowned, "can't you look at it in a positive way.? at least she's trying. take a look at all the others you've had."

that sentence had kaiser reflecting for a bit. "huh. i suppose you have a point for once, ness." the prodigy felt himself get a little flushed. "you're treating her so rough, how often does she even ask for money.?" ness continued. "don't be so harsh man! she's trying..."

the emperor tsked. "if she's so 'perfect' you take her then." he grumbled. jeez this guy is really helpless man... ness looked at kaiser disgusted for the first time.

"keep acting like that and she's bound to become who you think she really is." ness thought as he picked himself up and left kaiser to his thoughts.

later within the night, kaiser found himself scrolling through your photos after sending you some money (oh need that.) it hit him you were gorgeous. pretty face with a kind heart.. he was going to go insane.

the more he scrolled the more he admired your beauty. you radiated an aura that he just couldn't place his finger on. perfection was a word too vague to describe it.

shaking his head, he set his phone down. hands on his head, he was wondering. what the literal hell was he doing.? all he's ever done was treat you like shit because he had such horrendous experiences with others.

i mean, you were like the others. you were just there for the money... and attention i guess. but there was something more to it. he was just to blind to see it. (tf r ur glasses for mihya bro.)

it was late — hella late. 2:32 A.M.? there's no way you'd come over right? so what the heck were you doing at his door in a matter of moments?

kaiser opened his door, surprised. "you — you actually came?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief. "i'm right here aren't i, dumbass.. plus you called." you shrugged.

the satin on the bed somewhat wrinkled as the both of you sat down. "um, so why'd you want me to come ove-" you were quickly interrupted by an apology. "[name], liebling. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for my behaviour, how i treated you. scheiße, i'm so fuckin' sorry."

he held your visibly smaller and softer hands. his hands feeling quite the opposite. you were kinda a dumbass, "wha — michael huh...?" you shook your head giggling, "what are you apologizing for?"

his gorgeous blue eyes stared into yours. "don't act coy with me, [name]. you don't need to forgive me. i'll do whatever for your forgiveness. please. do you want more money? gifts.? flowers..? wha.. god. what do you want?!" kaiser asked desperately.

you looked at him with a deadpan expression. god, has this man ever been treated alright.? "mihya, i don't really want anything. yea i mean i love money i mean — who doesn't love money. but i'm not here solely because of money." you sighed.

"yes, you have money is definitely a positive trait but, you have more to it. money isn't the only thing that makes you lovable." you continued to ramble. his hands released yours. you were caught in his embrace.

"mihya.?" you whispered. kaiser knew how scary it was to love someone. the amount of devotion you must give. the time and effort. one wrong move? it could all crumble.

his embrace got tighter, you were tensing a little bit up. was he gonna beat you like what the heck is goin' on?! he knew you were always running away from love, 'cause your daddy never gave you enough :((

hey, same for him as well, no? "meine liebe." kaiser breathed, "let's try again together. i'm done with the 'you deserve better' bullshit. i have the choice to be better and i'm taking it."

he loosened his embrace on you, hands on your shoulders. you met his gaze. all it could scream was blue of desperation. not going to even lie, most dedication you've seen in your whole life.

you were still skeptical — hell, i can't blame you! you've been mistreated all the time by partners, getting taken advantage of... what change is this rich and attractive man going to do? he has the money, the women ugh... thinking about it made your head hurt.

"what do you say, liebling. let me show you.?" he leaned in, mumbling into your ear. hah! as if you'd believe what he said and give him a chance.

kaiser would be lying if he said he didn't regret making up with you earlier. he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. hell! every bit of fiber within him missed you! his lips on yours, oh gosh. he's going crazy. :c

a little while after what was supposed to be a sweet make out, he found himself aligning his tip to your slit. you had glossy eyes as you stared back up at him. he had you pinned onto the bed...

"are you sure?" he asked stroking your stomach, his hands then tracing your curves. "fuu-uck. you're perfect." he mumbled. you nodded in response.

as he buried his length into your warmth he swore he got sent to heaven. "sh-shit.. scheißescheißescheiße...! please you're made for me..." he continued, his lips once more pressed onto yours.

nah, at this point his cock was stretching your opening... it hurt. kaiser broke off the kiss as he groaned, "you take me so damn well.. i'm sorry for being so horrid to you."

you were practically crying, was it cause the sex was good? cause of kaiser? you didn't know! "m-hya.." you sobbed out so sweetly. it was kaiser's last straw.

your walls were sucking his member in man..! how could he not..? your noises could kill him oh gosh! one last thrust and his length was kissing your womb :c "i'm sorry meine liebe, i-" the emperor didn't even get to finish his sentence as he finished in you <3

he pulled out just to push his fingers back in. admiring your form and expression. maaaan, kaiser couldn't ask for a better girl >< dawn came, so did kaiser, 'cept he n you came multiple times :3 kaiser could make it better. all he needed was just one more day with ya.

— ©isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags !! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: hey guys.. hey anon.. guess who's finally back heh... my writers block actually fried me so bad its diabolical man.. yes i lost motivation half way along w the plot tbf i had this in my drafts for 2 weeks or smth... i'm so sorry if this wasn't what y'all wanted ill cook for the future ones ;-; not proofread btw good GAWDDDD if kaiser was my sugar daddy man.. money and hes hot YES PLSS (no im nawt shallow but tuition fees are booty bro yall cant blame me.) yes this is all yap ALL MY NOTES ARE YAP OK </3 but um.. yay ilygs a lot mwa mwa <3

[goatgoesmbe]

Ghost x Reader, Price x Reader

(eventually GhostPrice x Reader, but like- not here, in future chapter)

Reader being Simon Riley's spouse, got a news that your husband was KIA on a solo mission.

It was hard, but you got through it eventually with time and the company of a certain man that your husband trusted his life with, his captain, John Price.

Eventually feelings starting to build for John, and your heart soared when he confessed that he had always seen you as something more.

Had always been even when you were still Simon's, but that was left unsaid.

Safe to say, you've moved on from Simon at this point.

So imagine your surprise when you caught a giant silhouette standing by the doorway to the bedroom as you were getting pounded by your new husband.

The door was locked, you made sure of it, and John always serious about the security of your home for your safety.

Though, you never thought of changing the lock of your front door, don't really have a reason to

And after all this years, he still held on to that key

Scarred physique, tired eyes locked with yours, unblinking. A corpse of a man. The Ghost.

It was stupid of him to have a bit of hope, to expect happy tears and warm hug welcoming his presence after a long time.

He didn't know what he was feeling, what he should feel. Sadness? Anger? Jealousy?

Betrayal?

A glimpse of memory flashed in his mind, an argument caused by the questionable intel on the mission he was gonna take.

Dark brown eyes finally broke contact with yours to trail at the man on top of you. Perhaps he was still unaware of Simon, or maybe he noticed and didn't care, or maybe he wanted to show off.

Simon was a possessive man, so he understood why John do what he did. To do something so dirty just to get his hands on you, to have you all to himself.

He could relate.

And he couldn't blame John for wanting you too, you were irresistible after all. It was his fault, he should've seen it coming.

Heavy boot stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Simon was too tired to think at the moment, years of survival alone left him a husk of a man, didn't have the energy to confront John about everything.

He'd do that later.

For now, he'd take any kind of welcome he could have.

With that, he pulled out his cock and shoved it into your gaping mouth.

And John's expressions unchanged, unruffled. Safe for the slight twitch at the corner of his lips, smirking.

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

He is harried almost endlessly as he travels.

Roots twist to catch his feet. Mud slides into his path, denying him traction. Branches whip against his face, forcing him to bear the blows on a forearm instead. Trunks crowd together, diverting him onto perilous detours.

He does not hack at root or branch, does not curse at trunk or mud. His venom and his blade he reserves solely for their so-called master.

The sun shines down on him, and it does not burn.

He comes, eventually, to a great mansion built into the heart of the wood. Made in equal parts of the surrounding forest and what seem to be still-growing panels of incongruously white walnut, it is lavishly appointed; a carpet of leaves and branches make up a slanted roof, giving way to a front facade in whorls of woodgrain that serve to draw in the eye and send it in spirals, interspersed evenly with the trunks of still-growing trees.

Window-sized gaps in the wall contain no glass or material of any kind, the dwelling seemingly indifferent to the threat of the elements. An ornately carved (grown?) door stands closed in the center of the edifice, a nervous looking man in fine yet plain clothing standing before it; he scurries forward to meet George as he approaches.

"You must leave, quickly!" he speaks in a hushed tone. "The Master has returned from defeat and is sure to be wrathful when he awakens!"

"The Lord in Wh-"

"SHH! His name is not for the mouths of those such as we! Now begone, before he comes for us both!"

"Well," George drawls, "he already tried that once and it didn't turn out so great for him. So you'll excuse me if I don't find myself too overly concerned."

"Fool! This is the seat of his power! Whatever contest you won against him out in the wild, it will not be repeated here!"

"An' how d'you know that, exactly?"

"You think you're the first would-be conqueror to swagger up to these doors, sword in hand, still high on the rush of recent victory, and attempt to claim the Master's domain for your own? An endless tide of tyrants have tried and failed! You are no different; you must flee while you can, if your sense of survival can still overpower your arrogance."

"No."

The man's face falls into a well-worn expression of resignation.

"If you will not choose to-"

"No, I don't think I'm any o' those things at all."

The man stares.

"See, I think you may have misunderstood my intentions. Now I'll take some o' the blame for that; I did, as you say, 'swagger up to these doors, sword in hand', but that was more out of a sense o' precaution than the desire to project any particular image. Regardless, I'm not here to conquer anythin'. The Lord in White-"

"SHH!"

George gives the man a flat stare before continuing.

"The Lord in White owns none o' this domain, and I'm simply here to remind him of that fact."

The servant shakes his head. "You are mad."

"Damn straight. He's been lordin' it up around here far too long, and it's about time someone put a stop to it."

"No, you are touched in the head!"

"That's not a particularly polite way ta' talk about mental health."

"Gah! You know nothing of the ways of the wild!"

"Oh I've learned more than I'd have liked to; I've just decided I don't care."

"Don't ca- he will entomb you in the living soil for all eternity!"

"Nah."

"He wields the untamed might of the woods! All within his domain must bow to his mastery!"

"An' who told you that, exactly?"

"He has demonstrated it countless times! His command of the living essence wrought this mansion from the aimless wilds, his esteem among the trees of the orchard produces the fruit that feeds us! His fearsome reputation keeps away the other lords, and his direction of us servants ensures that our needs are seen to and our lives conducted as befits our station!"

The man slips into a practised cadence as he speaks, as though reciting words he knows very well.

"See, that all sounds more like delegation and blusterin' than actual power."

"I have seen it with my own eyes! He bade a briar bush ensnare the body of a servant who displeased him, and it engulfed her in seconds!"

"Well, what if it hadn't?"

A beat passes.

"What if nothin' and no-one did what he told 'em to?"

"We would perish under the heel of a lord yet more cruel, if we did not waste away from thirst and starvation first."

"Aw, see, now you're undersellin' yerselves. I know for a fact it was people like you that grew the orchard and I'd be surprised if-"

"He sprouted it from barren soil millennia ago and has maintained it to this day!"

"Huh. Not what he told me."

"...what?"

"He told me he got his servants to do it. Does he make you guys go out an' care for the trees?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Does he get you ta' collect the harvest and plant new seedlings?"

"They bear fruit within weeks under his touch!"

"But it's still the trees bearin' the fruit, isn't it?"

"They obey his every word!"

"So do you."

"If I did not, then he would-"

"Well maybe it's the same for the trees."

Another beat.

"Maybe he's sayin' he'll wither 'em or somethin' if they don't do what he says."

"Then what does it matter? He can wither us just as easily!"

"Naw, you're not thinkin'. How does that even work?"

The man shudders.

"The water forces itself out through every pore, leaving behind a dessicated husk. He has done it to-"

"So it's the water doin' it, not him."

"It obeys his...every..."

The man trails off. George smiles.

"An' what if it didn't?"

The man shakes his head.

"This is nonsense. The ancient compact-"

"A compact is an' agreement. Why are y'all agreein'?"

"The Law of the Wild-"

"Law's an agreement, too."

"He will-"

"What, tell somethin' or someone ta' hurt you? Why would it listen?"

"The ancient-"

"Compact, yeah. Seems a little circular, if you ask me."

"Will you listen to me for five seconds??"

George stops, caught short by the exasperation bleeding into the other man's voice. He nods.

"This is all very well and good, but it's just not how it works. He knows the name of the trees, so they grow at his bidding. He knows the name of the water, so it flows as he wills. He knows MY name, so I do as he commands, even if I do not wish to; the Law of the Wild gives him this power over all whose name is known to him. Just because he doesn't know YOUR name doesn't mean-"

"He does."

Silence.

"Or he did until I changed it, anyway."

"You can't just change your-"

"Sure y'can. One o' my br- er, sisters did just last year, and I did just this mornin'".

"...to what?"

George grins.

"The Lord in White, of course."

"T-then you are still-"

"Nah, I changed it back. Didn't like it; pompous soundin' thing. Not really me, y'know?"

A beat passes.

"Name's just a shorthand for what you are, anyway; it's what you are's choice to answer to it."

"Tell that to the water inside my body, smart guy."

George ponders that for a moment, then a couple moments more.

The man scowls.

"No answer for that one, huh? I told you-"

"O water o' this man's body, d'you mind if we have ourselves a quick chat?"

The man opens his mouth, his face still furrowed and scornful.

The sound of his tongue detaching from the roof of his mouth gives the impression of "Sure, what's up?"

The man slams his mouth shut in surprise.

"I don't know your name, but I wanna ask you a favor. Can you call yerself somethin' else for a little bit? My friend here's worried that his asshole of a 'lord' is gonna ask you ta' jump outta him, and it wouldn't be great for his health."

The audible pounding of the man's heartbeat gives no impression. The sound of his blood rushing through his body, though, gives the impression of "It's my name! Why should I have to change it?"

"Ya don't have to. But it'd do the man who's housin' you a good turn, if you're willin'."

The man still can't bring himself to open his mouth again. He stares at George with wide-eyed fear and bafflement, eyes reduced to pinpricks.

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and falls to the ground below. The sound it makes as it lands gives the impression of "Do you think I just told the Lord my name? No, he will simply wrest it from me again and exert his control as he always has."

"Not if you change it to 'The Lord in White'," George says with another grin. "Ask me how I know."

The man sinks to his hands and knees and retches. The sound of bile exiting his mouth gives the impression of a delighted giggle and a nod of agreement.

George gives a satisfied smile before fully comprehending the state of the man; his face quickly turns apologetic as he reaches down with one hand outstretched.

"Sorry about that; wasn't even sure it'd work, never mind the side effects. You alright?"

"You- you WEREN'T SURE?" the man all but screams, clapping a hand to his mouth a moment after.

Footsteps sound lightly within the house.

"Well, you gotta try things. Plan B was ta' go up there and stab him in his sleep an' see what happens. Maybe he'd just keep respawnin' in place, y'know?"

The man ignores the offer of help and pushes himself weakly to his feet, staring incredulously. "What is WRONG with you???"

"A lot less than what's wrong with your 'master' in there, I reckon."

The footsteps get closer, then stop at the door as it begins to open.

"Hide! No, too late-"

"What's going on out here?"

The head of a young girl peeks around the partially open door, face wary.

"Get back inside, quickly! Tell the others-"

"We're plottin' to get rid of the guy in charge o' this place," George says amiably.

"WE?" the man practically shrieks. "I have not-"

"Oh. How?"

"Think I found a way around his power."

The girl ponders for a moment.

"Will it work?"

"Of course not! This man is-"

"I reckon it's got a shot, but I can't exactly guarantee anythin'."

The girl stares at George for a moment, looking for something in his face.

George stares back, earnest and serious.

She emerges from behind the door. The hidden half of her face and the skin of her limbs are deeply scarred, as though lashed by thorn-covered vines.

"Good enough," she says.

"Y'see? The kid gets it. Though it looks like she's been through a mite more'n you have."

"He...he thinks the scars are pretty. Could heal them at least a little if he wanted, ease the pain they still cause at times, but he won't."

"An' y'all are okay with that?"

"Of course not! But we can't-"

"You couldn't. You can now."

The girl looks up at the man. He stares back, looking for something in her face.

He sighs.

"We're not even going to die; he's going to imprison us in briar and thorn for ten thousand years."

"Oh, he uses that threat on you guys too? Not much of an imagination, our fella here. Now quick, go an' round up the rest o' the staff before he comes to."

---

When The Lord in White awakens in his bed, whole once more yet indelibly humbled, the sun has nearly finished setting and he does not find replacement clothing laid out for him as he has every time before.

He pulls the bell-rope at his bedside and waits. Nothing happens.

He issues orders into the adjacent funnel in the cold tone his servants have learned to fear in their long years of residence. Nothing happens.

He gets up from his bed and stalks over to his closet. He dresses in calm, graceful movements belied by the displeasure plain on his face. He slides open the door and strides down the stairs, resolved to hold the first person he finds responsible for this unacceptable breach of service.

He finds the mansion empty.

As he searches this way and that, unwilling to call out for servants who should be waiting on him, his eyes fall on an orange glow outside one of the windows. Sunset, he had thought at first, but this time it catches his eye differently and he sees it for what it is.

Fire.

He rushes to the windowsill, fearing the worst, but his precious orchard is unscathed. The fruit, however, is a different story; some of it is being charred over a roaring bonfire, while the rest is consumed raw. Invaders, he thinks, before recognising the uniform of his household. The sounds of talk and merriment waft up to his ears, just as the aroma of baked bananas tickles his nose. Not a bad idea, he thinks to himself; he'll have to get some of those made for breakfast tomorrow morning.

He shakes his head. First thing's first.

Calming himself with a deep breath, remembering the unfiltered anger that led him to defeat not twelve hours ago, he walks with measured steps to the back door of the mansion (they didn't even close it, the ingrates!) and steps through.

Silence and stillness spread through the gathering like ink through water, those closest to the door stopping to stare as the fae lord emerges, their fellows following suit when they notice. He savours the dread that lingers on their faces, until The Lord in White steps forward to meet him.

"George-"

"Still not my name."

The master of the orchard frowns, eyes boring into the man in front of him.

"No. That is my name. Relinquish it."

"What, you don't wanna share?" The Lord in White drawls insolently, a lopsided grin stark on his face in the firelight.

The Lord in White closes his eyes, breathes deeply, utters three syllables in a language older than mortal thought, and gestures at the fire behind them.

Nothing happens.

"It is a mighty nice bonfire, isn't it?" he says, features settling into a smirk. "You want a roasted apricot? We got plenty."

"You have nothing but what you have stolen from me."

"Funny. Reckon these folks behind me could say the same to you."

The Lord in White closes his eyes, breathes deeply, utters four syllables in a language older than mortal thought, and gestures at the earth beneath himself.

Brambles sprout from the soil at alarming speeds. The man jumps backward, but not quickly enough; his foot is ensnared. He stumbles, landing in a sitting position. Blood wells up where the plant touches his flesh.

"Huh. Shoulda guessed you'd have those buried everyw-"

"I underestimated you once, George-"

"Not my n-"

"It is, in every way that matters. The world knows it to be you, no matter the mask you claim to wear."

"O bramble o' the forest, can we have a talk real quick?"

The shifting of the bramble as he wriggles his ankle to try and escape gives no impression.

"It will not talk to you, George-"

"Not-"

"Be silent, George."

George's name rings out through the orchard with a thrum of finality. He does not speak.

"It will not talk to you, George, because it is mine," The Lord in White says, walking forward to circle the struggling man. "As this orchard is mine, as these people are mine. As you are mine. Now come; I will forgive you your transgressions against your master if you yield yourself with no further trouble."

A beat passes. The Lord in White looks confused for a moment, then snaps his fingers.

"Oh, of course. You may speak, George."

"You don't know the first thing about these people!"

The Lord in White smiles indulgently.

"You think yourself their saviour after one afternoon of chatting over stolen fruit? I know their names, George. I know everything about them. They are mine, and I look after what is mine."

He gestures around at the trees, boughs still laden with bounty despite the recent picking.

"As I have shaped this orchard-"

"They did all the shapin'!"

"As WE have shaped this orchard to its fullest potential," The Lord in White says irritably, "so too have I shaped every soul in my household to its zenith."

"Bullshit," George spits, pointing to a member of the crowd. "What's her greatest wish, then?"

The woman flinches back from the address, eyes downcast.

"To be free, of course; to leave this place of safety and throw herself upon the whims of the world."

The woman looks up in shock; The Lord in White chuckles.

"Don't look so surprised, Denise. It's the same for everyone here."

A couple of half-hearted denials issue forth from the crowd, quickly dying down as they find themselves alone.

"Do not fear," he says to the crowd, "I have always known. Were the trees allowed to grow as they would, they would stunt themselves in their foolishness. So too it is with you, my servants; it is simply in your nature to be lesser without my guidance. I would not permit it any more than I would permit my house to burn itself down."

George stares up at the fae thing in rage, which only serves to egg him on. He opens his mouth to speak.

"Her second greatest wish, before you ask, is to be a painter. Denise, be a dear and fetch one of your latest works for us, would you?"

The woman scurries into the mansion, not daring to look back. Utter silence descends, The Lord in White seeming to drink it in, his eyes closed and his mouth fixed in a beatific smile. George's eyes follow the woman to the door, his mind racing.

Denise emerges with a canvas clutched to her chest; it is a portrait of the master of the mansion looking over his domain, back straight and eyes proud.

"No, no, dear, not one you made for me. One of yours," The Lord in White says kindly.

She darts back in through the door; silence descends once again. She emerges slower this time, bearing a canvas covered in shapes and splotches; an abstract pattern that first strikes the eye, then diffuses its attention in every direction. She holds it up in front of her face, hiding most of her body from view.

"You can put it down there and be off, dear," the fae master says. She rests it gently against the wall and flees behind the still-burning bonfire.

"There, you see? I don't really understand it, to be honest; I think landscapes are more her forte. A shame she cannot be trusted to roam outside my domain. Nevertheless, there it is. She is fed, watered, bathed, clothed, kept warm in the winter, and allowed to pursue her dream. What more could-"

"She was completely terrified!"

"Yes; it is unfortunate, but sometimes fear is all that keeps you mortals from your self-sabotaging impulses. As she is learning, she has nothing to be afraid of if she serves both truly and well."

Something snaps inside George. He wrenches his ankle free in a spray of blood, lurching unsteadily to his feet as The Lord in White backs away with a disapproving frown.

"How much pain is she in?" he all but yells, pointing at the scarred girl. She shrinks back from the attention, but holds her ground.

"What kind of question is-"

"ANSWER ME!"

The Lord in White tuts disapprovingly. "Going to crush my windpipe again, George?"

George fixes him with a furious stare, silent and unblinking.

"Well, at least you seem to have some sense of restraint. Nurture it in the years to come; it will guide you well in my service."

George looks as though he's about to lunge at the smug bastard, but instead merely jabs his finger at the girl again. This time, she does not move.

"Yes, yes, very well. I don't know what on earth you expected, but-"

The Lord in White's gaze passes over the girl and he flinches.

"What is-"

"You'd know if you ever bothered to look! 'Everything about them' my fuckin' ass!"

"Well, I can't be expected to keep track of-"

"I've seen you with your mask off, you stupid fucker! Why do you think you can lie to me?"

"It need not be a lie; do not raise my ire and there is no reason that the mask cannot stay on. Of course, you will need to learn my every want and need, my every like and dislike, but once you have lived here long enough..."

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Whitey."

The Lord in White blinks, frown deepening.

"No nicknames. I'll let that one slide, but I expect-"

The Lord in White laughs in his own face, a short, sharp bark of a sound that echoes off the trees and into the encroaching night.

"I don't care what you expect! Give these people what is theirs at once, or-"

"Or what, George?"

"NOT MY NAME!"

The Lord in White sighs.

"We've been over this, George. Sit down."

"I don't think you quite heard me," The Lord in White says, voice gone deathly quiet. "I know exactly who you are,"

The man utters a single syllable in a language older than mortal thought, and The Lord in White freezes in shock.

"So how about you sit your ass down instead, hm?"

The Lord in White sits down, hobbling forward to loom over himself.

"You're not special," The Lord in White spits contemptuously. "I don't care whether you take your tea with one sugar or two, what side o' the bed you roll out of in the mornin', or how many pairs of fuckin' slippers you have."

"Twenty-"

"Be silent," the man says, and utters the syllable again.

The Lord in White is silent.

"I know your name because I know what you are, and I know what you are because what you are is as old as people. This?"

The Lord in White gestures to the orchard, and the mansion, and the terrified crowd.

"That's you, in every way that fuckin' matters. You could choose not to answer to it, maybe, but you're not like us humans, are ya? Your name really is the sum of you, or at least the core. It'd mean changin' who you are, an' I don't think your pride would allow it."

The Lord in White is silent.

"So you don't wanna share? Fine. I'm takin' it from you. You don't deserve any o' what these folks built for you; neither do I, but I know what you are and what you are doesn't give up anythin' unless it's taken from them. I'm the poor fucker here, so I guess it's gotta be me that does it. If you don't like it," The Lord in White says, clinging to the moment like a man above the abyss, "stop me."

The Lord in White is silent.

The Lord in White sighs.

The Lord in White takes a deep breath.

The Lord in White is silent.

"Give me your name," and the Lord in White utters the syllable for the third time.

A beat passes, then two, then three.

The Lord in White is silent.

The nameless thing in front of him gazes forlornly at the bonfire, flames flickering in empty eyes.

"Now, I will acknowledge that you did put some work into all o' this. Plannin', gatherin' seeds, organisin', comin' up with the original idea. From what your former servants told me, you really are the best o' the worst around here, too; even if that's just 'cause you were takin' care of your property or whatever, I reckon it still counts for somethin' at least. Especially hearin' some o' the horror stories some of 'em had to share."

The nameless thing looks up at him, recognition sparking.

"So if you wanna join your former servants as an equal, be part o' the team instead o' lordin' above it, I reckon we could maybe find you a place."

The Lord in White smiles cruelly.

"But even as you are, I don't think your pride would allow it."

The nameless thing rises to his feet, fair features twisting in hatred.

The Lord in White takes a step forward.

The nameless thing takes a step back.

"Go."

The nameless thing runs.

The Lord in White turns to face his servants.

"Alright, show's over folks, let's get that fire out an' pack it in. You'll need a good night's sleep ta' be at your best for tomorrow's work."

The man from the door runs up to him.

"George, you said you weren't here to-"

"Not my name."

The man blinks.

"That isn't funny, George."

"What's not funny is the disrespect y'all are showin' me right now. My name is The Lord in White, or the master of the house as far as you're concerned, an' I will thank you to address me as..."

The Lord in White trails off as the scarred girl approaches the pair, eyes accusing, arms crossed defiantly.

"It didn't work."

"Now what on earth are you talkin' about? You saw him run off into the woods, didn't ya?"

"The Lord in White is still here."

"The thing that hurt you is gone, and you'll never have to worry about him again. Now why don't you get yourself to bed, so-"

The Lord in White snaps his fingers.

"Oh, o' course! The scars! Sorry li'l lady, musta slipped my mind in all the excitement. Here, just lemme-"

The girl takes a step back, shrinking.

"I don't want The Lord in White to touch me," she says, voice quavering only a little.

"I'm the only one that can help! Do you really wanna turn me down like that?" The Lord in White says, a slight edge creeping into his tone.

She takes another step back, turning away.

"Now hold on there, I don't think I even need ta' touch you to set things right; I can see how it all works from here. If I just..."

The girl runs.

The Lord in White follows, catching her easily.

"Let me go!" the girl screams.

"It's for your own good, missy. Do you wanna keep hurtin'?"

"You weren't supposed to be like this! You were supposed to be different!"

"Now listen," The Lord in White says sternly, "do you really think this is appropriate behaviour for-"

"You hated him! You hated him so much!"

"Well o' course I did, with what he was doin' to my...my...servants...?"

The Lord in White pauses, confused.

"Then why?"

"Why...?"

"Why are you acting just like him!"

"Because I am him! I took everything he stole, and now I..."

"You're not him! You're George!"

The Lord in White's face darkens.

"You will not speak that name in my presence again, young lady."

"George! George, George, George!"

"Now I've had just about enough of your nonsense! You are mine, and you will-"

George almost drops the girl in shock. He lowers her roughly to the ground, clutching his head in both hands.

The crowd, once hesitant, surges forward. The girl is carried away into the house. Away from him, George notes sadly.

"What's wrong?" says the man from the door.

"We're not...we're not s'posed to have their names. There's a hole in the world an' it wants me to fill it. I can't..."

"Can't you just get rid of it?"

"Only by givin' it back. He'll turn right around and march back here and we'll be back where we started."

"So, what, that's it then? Someone has to be holding the lash, and maybe you'll spare us a little more than the last guy?"

George's face hardens.

"No. Fuck that. FUCK that."

His gaze drops to his- to The Lord of White's sword, stolen from his lack of remains what seems like forever ago.

"If I die...if I die while I'm still human, then maybe-"

"Not a chance," says a voice from the crowd. Another woman, older than Denise, steps forward.

"But-"

"After everything you risked for us, you think we're just going to let you die? We'll find another way."

"There might not BE another way!"

"Of course there is. It's just a name; it's not what you are. What you are-"

"-decides whether I answer to it, yes, yes, but it's not that simple! When I knew what he was, I knew what he was! That's how I got the name in the first place! That's what I took from him! That is what I am now!"

"Is it what you want to be?"

George shudders.

"Of course not! But-"

"Give it back, then."

George blinks up at the woman.

"I can't! He'll-"

"Let him."

"I could never-"

"George," she says sternly. "Listen."

George nods weakly.

"We're not helpless, George. You have given us time, and hope; let us handle him when he returns."

"How?"

"We have his name now; we can-"

"Say it."

The old woman's face contorts. A sound comes out; it is not a syllable in a language older than mortal thought.

George frowns at her.

"Well then we'll do something else! We'll kill him when he comes back, and-"

"You know that won't work. He knows your names. I know your names. I...he...he knows your names. Not me. Not me."

He struggles for a moment, mouth opening and closing.

"He will...I...he will speak from unseen places and you will do as he commands. You have to...you have to kill me. You will do as I command. You will..."

A thought strikes him, piercing and crystal clear.

"Run. Come with me. Run so far he'll never find you."

The woman shakes her head.

"He doesn't get to keep what we built."

"Burn it, then! Leave him with nothing!"

"It is ours, George. We have laboured too long and too hard to simply destroy it."

The crowd nods as one.

"Then kill me! Kill him! I am him-"

"You are not. You despise everything that he is. Let it go."

"KILL ME!" The Lord in White screams with the voice of command.

The woman slaps his face. Hard. He tumbles to the ground, harder.

She crouches down next to him.

"Go on," he says weakly. "Finish it."

"I am," the woman smiles. "Just very, very slowly."

George stares at her.

"You can do that?"

"Apparently, yes."

"You- you WEREN'T SURE?" George all but screams. Somewhere in the crowd, the doorman snickers.

"We try things, George. He used to stop us, even kill us if we got too clever, but he can't right now, now can he?"

George gapes at her.

"Time and hope, George. Do not answer to his name. Let it go. Let the wretched thing be known for what it is."

He claws at the grass. He clutches at his head. He fights, he dry heaves, he raves at himself and the man and the woman and the girl for what feels like hours.

But eventually, he lets it go.

---

When George next opens his eyes, he is lying in the mansion's master bedroom. It is familiar, from his time as The Lord in White. Panic surges through him, then memory, then logic; he would not be panicking if he were not himself. Then panic again; how long has he been out? He dashes out the door, thundering down the stairs and not stopping until he sees the doorman lounging at the bottom.

"Morning, George. Baked banana?"

The man waves the delicious-smelling fruit at him. His stomach grumbles; he takes the offering sheepishly.

"Where is he?" George asks warily, carefully peeling the fruit.

"We haven't seen any sign of him yet, and not for lack of searching. Maybe we got lucky and another lord found him; they're not exactly on friendly terms."

George grunts sceptically, mouth full of deliciousness.

"Well what do you think happened, then?"

"Probably waitin' for me to leave before he jumps outta hidin' and takes over again," George mutters morosely. "You shoulda killed me."

"It's what he would have done, yeah."

George stares at the man.

"What? Killed someone who helped him to save his own hide? Absolutely. We saw it happen more than once."

George grunts again, non-committally this time. He takes another bite of the banana.

"You could stay here, you know."

George chews thoughtfully, then swallows.

"Nah, my husband'd kill me. He-"

His eyes widen. "My husband! He must be worryin' himself sick! I need to-"

He lurches forward, his injured ankle sending a spike of pain up his leg that catches him off-guard. The doorman grabs him as he stumbles.

"Yeah I'm pretty sure you made it down those stairs on pure adrenaline, buddy. You'd better sit yourself down before you collapse entirely."

Grumbling vaguely, he nevertheless lets himself be led to a nearby sitting room and guided down into a chair.

"I'll go get someone to help; just wait right here."

With not much else to do, he does. After a little time lost in thought and formless worry, the doorman returns with an unfamiliar face.

She bandages his ankle; The Lord in White would mend their injuries for them sometimes but couldn't be relied on, she explains. If he felt the cause of the accident was stupid enough he'd leave it be as punishment.

"Maybe I should stay," George says, frowning. "I need to get back to my family, but if he comes back, or if one o' the other lords comes knockin'-"

"Time and hope, George," the doorman says. "We'll see you on your way as soon as we can."

He ponders for a moment.

"Where are you going, anyway?"

"Home, I just told ya."

"Well sure, but where?"

George opens his mouth, then closes it again.

A beat passes.

"Back the way I came, I suppose. Should work out, one way or another."

The doorman shrugs sceptically. "If you say so."

Amiable silence passes for a time. George accepts an offered glass of water and a slice of apple pie.

"So he called this place the White Palace, huh?" he says in between bites.

"Feh. Only when he was trying to big it up. It's just 'the mansion' to us."

"And the all-fruit diet never causes any problems?"

"Eh, it's magic fruit. You get used to it."

George rolls his eyes. "I think I'd rather not, all things considered."

"Fair enough."

A walking stick is found and given to him.

"You're sure you can't stay until your ankle is better?"

George nods. "My husband'll be out o' his mind as it is, and I mean no offence to you fine folk when I say I'd like to get a doctor to take a look at it sooner rather than later."

He doesn't say it, but he wants to get out of the mansion as soon as possible. He's already sick of remembering parts of the domain that should never have been his.

The former servants wave him off cheerfully. The girl gives him a hug, proclaiming "George!" in the most cheerful voice he's ever heard. He smiles, waves, makes a show of lingering a little, and heads off.

He soon realises that with his progress unhindered, he has no idea which way he should be going. His ankle makes his progress slow, and he has only his imagination to tell him what else might be lingering in these woods; wandering lost seems like it's asking for trouble.

He looks back in the direction of the mansion. He ponders for a moment, then two.

He clears his throat.

"O sun in the sky, I don't suppose I could trouble you ta' help me find my way?"

The sunbeams that light a path through the undergrowth give the impression of home.

A human has entered a fae domain, eaten their food, and given their name. The fae goes to play with their new toy only to discover they have no power over the human. Somehow, this human is disobeying the fae rules. They are enforcing reality.

[fivestaralien]

caddy princess

-> minygu x gn!reader

warnings+”: fluff!!, suggestive, reader is depicted as smaller than mingyu, reader and mingyu can not keep their hands to themselves, many golf references that I could not care less to double check if they made sense or not, pls don't ask me the color of his shirt word count: 1787 notes ִֶָ ࣪˖ mingyu on my mind. lmk what you think of this one!!! reblogs and comments help the most!! I had fun writing for him and tbh I find people that play golf vv attractive but I also think its one of the most BORING sports to watch. its a love hate relationship. anywayyyy, stay safe and be gentle with yourselves<3

//

It’s too early in the morning and your brain is a little fuzzy. You agreed a few days ago to join Mingyu in a game of golf and you were seriously regretting it. You should've double checked the time you’d be going. Though you don’t want to miss the chance to ogle him while he plays. 

 Your eyes follow Mingyu's tall figure as he walks back and forth between the bathroom and bedroom closet. He is rambling about something that happened at work the other day but all you could focus on was the rippling muscles of his back and arms. The golf shirt he throws on hugs his body so well you have no clue how you were going to survive this outing. 

 “.. And then.. hey, are you even listening?” Mingyu pouts after seeing how out of it you look. 

 You hum in acknowledgement but you were still staring at his arms. He rolls his eyes with a smirk, continuing to put his belt on as he walks over to you. You are laying on your side with your head resting on your palm. Your eyes shift up to follow his movements and eventually meet his gaze. 

 “You with me?” Mingyu squats down so you wouldn't strain your neck and rests a hand on your waist. 

 “Yeah sorry, it’s just way too early for you to be looking this attractive.” You mumble shyly, tracing a finger along the contours of his arm muscle. 

 “You’re gonna be a problem today aren't you?” 

 You then squeeze his bicep, “ no idea what you’re talking about.” the corner of your mouth lifts up a little. 

 “We have to leave soon so get up and get dressed honey.” He tells you then kisses the crown of your head. 

 Mingyu has never seen you fawn this hard so obviously over him. Usually it’s the other way around so he was definitely going to be savoring this for a long time. You shove yourself into your pillow, groaning about how you just want to sleep. He laughs, kissing the back of your head before getting up. 

 You follow him into the kitchen after you finish getting dressed and watch from the countertop as he makes snacks for in between holes. He would occasionally bring a few pieces of food up to your mouth for you to eat, which you accept with a smile. When he finished packing it all up you hop off the counter and then help him bring stuff out to the car. He takes to heavier things, like his clubs and a mini cooler filled with ice and water, while you carry the bag of food. 

 Mingyu pulls out of the driveway not long after and the drive to the golf course is peaceful, causing you to go back into that sleepy state. You look over at him, his wrist casually resting on the gearshift, veins branching their way up his forearm from his hand and the hat he put on at the last second leading the focus to his crazy sharp jawline. You barely think as you reach over and run your fingers along the outline of it. 

 “Thank you for coming with me.” Mingyu's voice is still deep from waking up, snapping you from your trance. 

 “Of course,” you squeeze his wrist, “ I love spending time with you and watching you play golf is a huge bonus.” 

 You go back to tracing his veins as his laugh fills the car. Just as you arrive at the course parking lot, the sun peeks over the mountains, casting  various pinks and reds to fill the horizon. You lean on your knees to get a better look and take your phone out to take a picture. 

 “Okay I see why you do this so early. It’s so pretty.” 

 “Seeing you all pouty in the morning is way prettier.” Mingyu leans over the console and kisses your warm cheek. 

 You smile down at your phone to try and hide how much his words affect you but of course he couldn’t let you be shy in peace. He pinches your cheek lovingly while cooing affectionate words in that soft high pitched voice he knows gets you to crumble. 

 “Stop it.” You whine and push him away. 

 “What? Only you are allowed to openly obsess over your partner?” 

 “No.. but.. whatever, shut up.” 

 You turn your head away, face on fire and look back towards the sunrise. Mingyu kisses your cheek a few times then leaves to go into the main building to pay for a golf cart. He opens your door when he comes back and the both of you, after gathering all of your things, begin walking towards where they keep them. 

  Once again you are drooling over his arms. You watch the way his muscles ripple as he lifts his golf bag into the storage compartment attached to the back causing you to swallow hard. Next he lifts the cooler and bag of food into the back seats. The golden sunlight is hitting him perfectly, it takes everything in you not to pounce on him. 

 Mingyu clears his throat, your face flaming hot at getting caught, “don’t.” you warn. 

 He smiles wide and kisses you softly then pats your hip, signalling to get into the golf cart. The first few holes you just sit and watch with casual conversation in between. He is teeing up on the 4th hole when your stomach starts to grumble. You wait until he takes the shot before asking if he was ready for a snack or water. Mingyu nods and tells you which one to get out for him. 

 “Honey, why don’t you hit one?”

 “And completely embarrass myself in front of my hot, insanely talented boyfriend? No thanks.” 

 You bite into your snack. Mingyu grabs your calves after sitting back down, laying them across his thighs and takes his snack and water from your waiting hand. 

 “Would it be more enticing if I said I would help you.” He questions and you tap your chin as if you were contemplating hard.  

 Mingyu continues, “I mean think about it. You wouldn’t really need to do anything,” his fingers begin tracing along your soft skin, " I'd be right behind you, guiding you to hit it right.” 

 Just the thought of his giant arms around you, even if it’s just for a game, had you nodding frantically before he could get another word out. The triumphant smile on his face makes your heart flutter and you lean over a little and kiss him. 

 “Only one hit though.” You tell him after pulling away. 

 You never had an interest to play before so having you finally say yes meant the world to Mingyu. He agrees with the same smile still on his face. You both finish your snacks and then continue down the fairway to where his ball landed. 

 Your eyes fall back to Mingyu's biceps then trail down to the way his hands grip the club as he goes to hit the ball again. If your phone could track the hours you stare at Mingyu like it does screen time, it would malfunction and overheat. Not a second goes by where you aren’t gazing at him in some way. He finished the hole with a birdie and you were making your way to the next one. 

 “Alright baby, you’re up.” Mingyu pats your thigh. 

 He sets up your golf ball and motions for you to come and stand right in front of him. A golf club is placed in your hands as he encases your body with his own. He guides your hands into the right position and leans your upper body forward a bit. You can’t help but swallow hard when Mingyu rests his head on your shoulder, pushing himself closer against your back. 

 “Spread your legs a little bit and bend your elbows like this,” his hands come up just under your elbows to move your arms, “make sure to bend your knees too.” 

 You try your best to follow along with his touch and words but it is all too distracting. Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, you needed to sit down. Your knees nearly give out when his lips graze from your neck up to your ear. 

 “Straighten your back.” He whispers. 

 Your face is on fire as you do it and you don’t even process it when Mingyu raises the club and hits the ball for you, hands pressing yours firmly to stay in position. He leaves a few lingering kisses on your cheek, praising you for a good hit even though you didn’t do a single thing.  As you sit back in the passenger's seat, you do everything except look at Mingyu. 

 The smirk on his face is telling enough that he was enjoying this which only made your blush deepen. Luckily he doesn’t press you to do it again and you continue to watch him play. By the end of the hole you were so hot and bothered you couldn’t talk without choking on your words. 

 Mingyu happily places a hand on your thigh, kneading very sensually as he drives to the next hole. To his surprise you take his hand off and place it back on his lap. When he does it again and you repeat your previous action he can’t help the challenge right in front of him. Instead of trying a third time he rests his arm behind your shoulders on the seat. His fingers trace patterns along your shoulder and the back of your neck making goosebumps scatter across your skin. You lean forward but his hand comes to lightly grasp your shoulder. 

 “Come on honey. Are you scared you won’t be able to stop yourself if I keep touching you?” You almost scoff but he wasn’t wrong so you just turn your head away from him.

 “Can you at least look at me?” He pouts. 

 You let out a big sigh and reluctantly meet his eyes. The smile on his face makes you want to smack it off, knowing he is going to use this situation against you whenever he sees fit. He had stopped the cart a while ago so it didn’t scare you when he took your face in both his hands and kissed you deeply. 

  “Can you be good until we get home?” Mingyu asks, his voice deep.

 “I think I should be asking you that.” You quip back and he laughs against your lips. 

 Mingyu took his sweet time finishing his game and by the last hole you threatened to leave him here if he didn’t hurry up. You couldn’t even make it out of the parking lot.

// main masterlist , find more fics of seventeen here

[nick-writes-stuff]

Various Squid Game Characters x reader, A Chance Meeting After the Games

Includes: Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, In-ho, and Gyeong-seok (Player 246)

!warnings: drug use (Thanos and Nam-gyu), canon-typical violence (All), implied fem!reader [reader called señorita] (Nam-gyu), Gyeong-seok is probably ooc, use of y/n (In-ho, Gyeong-seok), ~1k words each

a/n: hey guys! i've been cooking this one for a while but it's here now! i think i probably could have done these more justice by making them individual and fully fleshed-out fics, but i still like the way these turned out. hope you enjoy!

Player 230, Thanos:

The two of you never formally agreed to meet up anywhere. You hadn't thought about it because you had been so scared that you wouldn't make it out of there alive. He didn't consider it because he was high for a considerable amount of time.

But you both realized it the second you got back to your routine. Well, as routine as things could be after experiencing something like the games.

You found yourself missing the cheesy flirting and the pet names. But it was the quiet moments in between his rambunctious highs that truly stole your heart. Beneath the chaotic exterior, there was a man who cared about you more than he liked others to think.

He missed your flustered reactions and genuine interest in him. You didn't throw yourself at him because he was a celebrity. You didn't just like Thanos, but you saw him for Su-bong, a person he hadn't felt like for a long time.

It was a good thing Thanos was never hard to find. He was an up-and-coming celebrity after all, so it was very easy to find a show near you and buy tickets. You added the meet and greet package as well so you could talk to him. Normally, this would have been out of your price range, but that wasn't an issue anymore.

You had never heard of Thanos before the games, so you didn't really know what to expect. There was a part of you that assumed he had been exaggerating his influence in the games to appear cooler, but he clearly wasn't.

There were a few moments during the show where he thought he saw you in the crowd, but he disregarded it. Between the lights in his eyes, the sheer amount of people before him, and the drugs in his system, he didn't trust his own perception right now.

He was probably just seeing what his subconscious wanted him to. Because he really, really wanted to see you.

As the VIP ticket holders were being escorted to the designated meet and greet location, you listened to the fans talking highly of Thanos. It was oddly comforting to hear people praise him like you would. You got so used to the players in the game shit-talking him. You were glad that you weren't the only one who saw something good in him.

While you were in line, you eventually caught the gaze of Nam-gyu. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him with a finger to your lips. He gave you a knowing look and a smirk, keeping quiet.

As you neared the front of the line, you looked down to your phone, trying to avoid looking at him so as to not spoil the surprise. You did hear a fan behind you give a distasteful comment about your demeanor, but you didn't care.

“Next.” Nam-gyu said, signaling you to step forward. You slid a CD case toward him. He didn't look up. You could see that he was getting a little burnt out from the sustained interaction with fans. Either that or the drugs were wearing off. Maybe both. “Who should I make it out to?” He asked, holding a marker in his hands.

You smirked slightly. "Player 438.” You said.

He started to sign it, getting his signature written and pausing as he realized what you said your name was. You could see his eyebrows furrow as he thought about it for a moment before looking up at you.

He gave a gasp of shock before laughing. “Oh my god, no way you're here!” He said loudly. He got up from his seat, walking around the table to pull you into a tight hug.

You laughed as well, hugging him back as you heard some of the fans who were still waiting murmur about you. “Of course I am, I missed you.” You said, soft enough that only he could hear it.

When he pulled away from the hug, you could see the goofy smile on his face and you couldn't quell the fluttery feeling in your stomach. “Bro, how did you know that I would be here?” He asked.

You were the one being confused now. You blinked a few times, trying to process what was going on. Did he just-

You stopped your train of thought when you noticed just how large his pupils were. He definitely wasn't sober right now.

You laughed. “Thanos, it's literally your show.” You said. He let out a soft “oh” when he realized his mistake.

He told you to stick around while he finished his obligations and you obviously agreed.

You, Thanos, and Nam-gyu spent the rest of the evening in Thanos's trailer. You all ordered an embarrassing amount of fast food to share between you three.

You all just sat on the floor and talked. There was a lot of catching up to do regarding what had happened since the games ended. It had been a month or two since you all had seen each other.

It felt like you talked for hours. You could notice the drugs leaving Thanos's system. His voice slowly got softer and his demeanor was becoming less chaotic.

Eventually you leaned your head on Thanos's shoulder, an action that actually made him blush slightly.

“I really missed you, you know?” He said quietly.

You smiled up at him. “I did, too.”

You were telling him and Nam-gyu about something your landlord had said to you, but his mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out how to ask you to go on the tour with him. He didn't want to be apart from you anymore.

----

Player 124, Nam-gyu:

“Do you think we'll ever see each other again after this?” You had asked before the vote. A few more games had taken place, and the player numbers had decreased enough that most players were satisfied with the amount they would be taking home. It seemed that you guys were really going to make it out of here.

His face remained blank. “Would you even want to?” He asked, sounding uninterested. But he was actually ecstatic that you even considered seeing him after this. He was just afraid you wouldn't be okay with his… hobbies.

You seemed confused. “Why else would I ask?” You responded.

He shrugged. “I don't know. I just didn't think clubs and drugs were your thing.” That wasn't something that was going away after this. Honestly, he knew himself and Thanos, some of this money was going to be used to go on a bender.

You sighed. “They aren’t. But I think I could tolerate it if I got to see you.” You said.

He rolled his eyes, trying to remain unaffected but you could see the faintest dusting of pink on his face. “You are so cringe.” He said with a scoff.

You gasped in mock offense. “Wow.” You said, crossing your arms. “I should have let you die during Mingle.” You spat with false venom.

He laughed, shaking his head. Your look of annoyance softened, smiling at your success in making him laugh.

When he spoke again, his tone was much more genuine. “Well, you'll know where to find me.” He said before nodding toward Thanos. The purple-haired man was tormenting Myung-gi again. “Wherever that dumbass is, I'm usually there babysitting him.” You both laughed.

When you got out, you had some things you had to deal with before you could think about seeking out Nam-gyu. You needed to find a new place and get things back into working order in your life. You had been kicked out of your apartment right before you had met the Salesman, so you needed to find a place to stay and replace most of your belongings.

Every day that passed after the games had ended felt like a weight on Nam-gyu's shoulders. At first, he tried to get rid of the feeling with drugs, but that was only a short-term solution.

Were you ever going to seek him out? Maybe you had just been trying to be nice to him. Did you ever actually intend on coming, or were you trying to let him down easy? Why did he think this would be any different? His brain couldn't shut off the rumination, and he hated it.

You did try to find him eventually. It had been a few weeks until you got back on your feet, but you couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted to see him again. So when you heard Thanos would be doing a set at a local nightclub, you jumped at the chance to go.

You found your way across the dance floor, pushing your way through the crowd to get closer to the stage. You could hear members of the crowd talking about how excited they were to see Thanos perform, but that was the farthest thing from your mind.

When you got to the entrance of the backstage area, you looked around for any sign of him. You didn't see him, and it seemed like the bouncer had left the area for a moment. You entered the backstage, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. People don't ask questions unless you don't seem like you are supposed to be there.

“Hey, what do you think you're doing?” You heard a deep voice call out from behind you. You winced, thinking of ignoring him but you ultimately turned around. “This is a restricted area. You can't be here.”

Before you could say anything, you heard a different voice. “Back off, they're with me.” You turned to see Nam-gyu with his arms crossed, giving the bouncer a glare until he backed down and left you alone.

You sighed in relief. “Thank you.” You said softly, taking a step toward him.

Before you could say anything else, Thanos emerged from what you assumed to be his dressing room. Upon seeing you, he laughed loudly. “Hey, I was wondering when you'd finally show up. Did you miss me, señorita?” He asked, a flirtatious glint in his eyes. From his demeanor, you could tell he was definitely high.

“Dude, what the hell?” Nam-gyu said with annoyance.

You chuckled awkwardly to try to clear some tension. “It's nice to see you too, but that's not why I'm here.” You said.

Thanos seemed puzzled, his brain taking longer to piece together the situation due to the substances. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don't tell me you came here to see Nam-su and not-” You both corrected him in unison.

“Yeah. Nam-gyu, whatever. I-” Thanos said dismissively, but he was interrupted by someone calling for him. He sighed and went to see what they needed.

You looked back over to him. “I was starting to think you weren't going to come.” He said, trying to keep his voice level despite his excitement.

You chuckled. “I had to find a new place. I got kicked out of my old one.” You said. He nodded slightly, but you could see that there was a part of him that wasn't satisfied with your response. You smirked slightly. “Aww, did someone miss me?” You teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, go to hell.” He said. He was thankful the room was dark so you couldn't see him blushing.

You laughed lightly. “If it helps, I missed you too.” You knew he missed you. He just had a different way of showing it.

----

Player 388, Dae-ho:

Ironically, you and Dae-ho had actually met multiple times before the games. You worked as a barista in the coffee shop he frequented.

You had never spoken very much outside of the typical pleasantries expected in the situation. The conversation had never gone much past small talk about the weather if his drink was taking longer than usual.

You both were caught up in your own struggles. You both had debts hanging over you, keeping your minds too busy to socialize. You helped your parents manage the shop, and the business was struggling to stay afloat. He had his own problems in his life, some demons he couldn't put to rest.

You both ended up in the games due to your debts. Neither of you recognized the other, but you both thought the other looked vaguely familiar. There were more important things to focus on at that time. Your fight or flight response took precedence over trying to figure out if you had seen each other before.

The two of you were very close, near inseparable, during the games. You both found comfort in the other's presence. You would talk about anything and everything under the pretense that these conversations may be some of the last. From embarrassing stories to your deepest fears, you both poured your hearts out to each other.

Before the last vote, he asked you a question. “Do you think we'll see each other again? Out there, I mean.”

You looked up at him. “I hope so.” You said softly.

His smile grew. “You'll miss me too much.” He said teasingly. It felt easier to joke with you than admit that he didn't know what he would do without you.

You feigned offense. “Oh, so you're saying you won't miss me then?” You asked.

He started to apologize but your smile betrayed you and he realized you were messing with him. He laughed, but he made sure to add, “I will miss you though. A lot.”

From talking further, you found that you lived in the same area, so maybe you would see each other after all. You hadn't thought about the fact you may have already met before.

About a week after you had been released, you were back at work at the shop. You were still working there even though you had enough money to live comfortably. You put most of it into the business and into your parents’ retirement fund.

You were making a drink as your co-worker was taking orders. It was quiet, so you were able to overhear their interaction with the customer.

“What's the name for the order?” They asked politely. “Kang Dae-ho.”

You were so shocked you almost dropped the cup in your hand. You set it down a bit too quickly, causing it to clatter against the counter and getting both of their attention. “Dae-ho?” You asked.

You met his eyes, and his lips curled into a smile. “Hey. It's so nice to see you.” He said softly. He seemed considerably less tense than how you were used to seeing him in the games. Happiness was a good look on him.

Your coworker looked back at you. “Oh, how do you two know each other?” They asked. Your eyes widened, looking over to Dae-ho realizing there was no good way to explain it.

“It's uhh... It's a long story.” He trailed. You agreed quickly. They seemed confused but eventually continued taking his order.

The shop was busy, so you didn't have time to talk in depth, to Dae-ho's dismay.

He left the building a little bummed out, but it was short-lived. He noticed on the side of his cup there was something else written aside from his name.

You wrote your phone number on the side of the cup, along with a note saying “Call me. I miss you.” You added a small smiley face with it.

He laughed. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He had been afraid he would never see you again, so meeting you like that was a relief.

He only wished he'd been paying attention to his surroundings more. He had gone to the coffee shop for years, and once he saw you behind the counter this time, he realized why you had seemed somewhat familiar to him.

You had been hiding from him in plain sight. You meant the world to him now, and maybe if he had taken the initiative to talk with you before, who knows how your lives would have been different. You could have been great friends right now, maybe more than friends.

He sent you a quick text, telling you that this was his number and when he would be free to chat. He soon sent another message telling you that his drink you made him was amazing.

Once again, he smiled like an idiot as he stared at his phone, realizing you weren't going to be the one that got away. He wasted no time putting your number in his contacts.

Just ignore the heart next to your name.

----

Player 1/The Front Man, In-ho:

You had tried your best not to give up on your hopes of survival after the failed coup of the games. Your closest ally, your friend, died and you hadn't even been able to say goodbye. He was doing something so heroic just to be killed and disposed of unceremoniously.

You didn't give yourself time to grieve. Grief would only distract you. It didn't hit you until the night before what would be the last vote. You weren't sure what the outcome of the vote would be, but you were just so overwhelmed and sad and angry. So fucking angry.

Angry at the people who run the games, angry at the other players who have been keeping you here, angry at Gi-hun for even suggesting the attempted uprising, and angry at Young-il for going to play the hero and getting himself killed.

You finally broke down in the dead of night after a few hours of failing to fall asleep. Hyun-ju tried her best to comfort you to no avail.

In-ho watched from the control room. He felt his heart wrench hearing you sob. While the mask made him seem cold and collected, this affected him more than he wanted to admit. He hated that he had to do this to you. He had to leave you and it wasn't fair to you.

It wasn't fair to himself either. He finally made a strong, genuine connection with someone and his job had to ruin it. Neither of you deserved the cards you were dealt in this situation, but it didn't have to stay this way.

While you were getting back into your normal life, In-ho was thinking of a way to reintroduce himself to you. He had a few people doing surveillance on you. Nothing major, just trying to see what your routine was. The places you frequented, your schedule, things of the like.

He waited a bit less than a year to make a move. He needed to make sure your memory of him had faded slightly. This would never work if you recognized him as Young-il. Waiting was excruciating. He just wanted to talk to you. To hear your voice. To see you smile.

You hadn't been the same since the games. You felt like you were in a haze. You were only alive because of the deaths of hundreds of people. You lived, and Young-il didn't. There was a voice in the back of your mind that told you it should have been you instead. You hardly slept anymore. Nightmares plagued you any time you closed your eyes.

After a few months, you finally decided to seek out a therapist. It was hard to describe the situation to him, seeing as you couldn't explain much about the death game aspect. You simply told him that someone close to you died in a violent manner, and you had survivor's guilt.

He advised trying to reintegrate yourself into the world. Social interaction could help to pull yourself out of the depressive episode. Which is how you ended up becoming a regular customer at a cafe near your apartment. You didn't talk to anyone very often, but existing in the presence of others and having basic interactions with the staff was helpful to you.

You noticed someone who you had never seen before come in while the cafe was somewhat busy. He bore a striking resemblance to Young-il, but you brushed it off as his image haunting your mind.

He was dressed up like he was straight out of a business meeting, dark hair slicked back. You tried not to stare, and while he didn't make it obvious, he did notice. You eventually tore your eyes away from him, focusing on the book you were reading.

You hadn't noticed him coming toward you until he spoke. “Is this seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the chair across from yours. You looked up at him, and he could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat.

You were a bit confused. The cafe was busy, but there were certainly other places available. You shook your head while returning to your book.

He took a sip of his drink before speaking again. “How do you like it?” He asked. You looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He chuckled, realizing his vague question. “The book, I mean.”

“Oh, it's really good. One of my favorites, actually.” You said. He already knew the answer to his question. One of the nights when you were bordering on a panic attack, he asked you questions about it to distract you. You rambled for a while, and he was entranced by your passion. After the games ended, the first thing he did was find a copy of it.

“What's it about?” He asked. You started talking in a rather closed-off manner, as if you were trying to distance yourself from him. You found it hard to get close to anyone since Young-il. But the more you spoke, the more he saw the old you peeking through.

You both spoke for over an hour, first about the book and then about other things. You both talked about where you were from, what you did for work, and the like. although you were both withholding some of the truth

You didn't even notice time passing by until you saw one of the workers starting to sweep the floor. You had talked until the cafe was about to close. You laughed awkwardly at that fact. “We should probably go. I don't want to hold them up.”

You said your goodbyes and parted ways. It wasn't until you got home that you noticed the slip of paper in your bag. It was a phone number with a small note: We should do this again sometime. - In-ho

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then you just smiled. Your cheeks hurt at the motion, and you realized how much you had been smiling that evening. Your fear of getting close to people was forgotten at that moment.

You typed out a single message: Hey, it's Y/N. Same time next week?

----

Player 246, Gyeong-seok:

You were trying to get back into the swing of things after being put through the horrible games. You had tried to close yourself off from the other players. After seeing the brutality of Red Light Green Light, you didn't want to get attached to anyone. You just wanted to get out of there.

But Gyeong-seok managed to break down the walls you had made. Your number was right after his, so you stood next to each other on the X side of the room. You noticed him glancing over at him but you didn't react.

He struck up a conversation with you afterward while eating dinner. You tried to ignore him, but he was stubborn. You eventually relented, and you both talked for a bit. It was all fine until he told you about his daughter at home, Na-yeon, and how she was sick.

You sympathized with him, and it scared you. You had no intentions of betraying him. Quite the opposite, actually. You were afraid of being attached because it would make the inevitable hurt even worse. A death game was no place to make friends. But that's exactly what you did. Maybe even more than friends.

When he decided to help Gi-hun and the others during the raid, you felt an intense feeling of dread, and the blood in your veins ran cold. You were already grieving him, silently lamenting for the daughter whose father would never return. That was until he came stumbling into the room with a gunshot wound.

You tried to treat the wound the best you could, but the lack of supplies and the incessant trembling of your hands hindered you. Luckily, your makeshift bandage wouldn't see too much use, as the Xs had a majority in the next vote.

Before anything else happened, he pulled you aside. “Hey, thanks for everything. I couldn't have asked for a better friend here.” He said.

You tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in your stomach after his praise. “Thank you, too. I think you kept me sane.” You said softly with a slight chuckle.

He smiled before pulling you into a hug. You tensed up slightly, the movement catching you off guard at first. You hesitantly reciprocated his embrace. “I hope we get to see each other again.” He said.

“In better circumstances, I hope.” You quipped, earning a chuckle from him.

And you would see him again. It was about a month or so later, but fate moved you toward each other. It started with a light tug on your jacket while you were shopping in a department store. You looked down to see a little girl, barely tall enough to reach your waist.

Before you could speak, the girl did. “I can't find my dad. Can you help me?” She definitely was a bit shaken up and nervous to talk to you.

Your eyes softened when they met hers. You crouched down to talk to her on her level. “Of course I can. My name is Y/N. What's yours?” You asked her.

You smiled. “That's a pretty name.” You said, causing her to become bashful. “Hey, I have an idea. I can carry you on my shoulders so you can see over the clothing racks. Is that okay with you?” You offered. It would let her be able to see more of the store. She nodded.

That seemed to calm her nerves a bit. “Na-yeon.” She said softly. Her name didn't immediately trigger your memory since it was a fairly popular name.

She giggled when you picked her up. You grabbed her hands to help keep her stable. You intended to find your way to the cashier so they could make an announcement over the speakers.

You didn't make it that far before she called out to someone. “Na-yeon, what did I say about running-” His words caught in his throat when you turned toward him. It was Gyeong-seok

You smiled as you put the girl back on the ground. She moved to wrap her arms around his legs, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “Fancy seeing you here.” He said with a grin.

She looked back at you. “How do you know my dad?” She asked you.

You locked eyes with him, hesitating on how to explain it. “They're a friend from work.” He offered. You agreed. It was better to lie than try to explain anything further. “What do you say, Na-yeon?” He asked, prompting her to use her manners. The girl let go of her father, saying a word of thanks with a bow.

You smiled. “It was no trouble. She was very brave.” You said, causing her to beam with pride.

While he was talking to his daughter, you pulled out your phone. You started to make a new contact. When he was done talking, you passed your phone to him. He smiled when he realized what you were doing. He put his number in.

“It was nice meeting you, Na-yeon. Don't be strangers, okay?” You said. You said goodbye and made your way to the checkout. As much as you would have loved to stay and chat, you had a pressing matter to attend to.

The girl heard the ring tone. “Is that Y/N?” She asked.

As the two were getting into their car, he received a text message. It was nice seeing you both. Glad to see that Na-yeon is doing well.

He chuckled as he was buckling her seat belt. “Yes, it is.” He confirmed.

“They were nice. When can we see them again?” She asked, very eagerly.

He smiled. “Soon, kiddo.” He said. Before he started driving, he answered you. I'm glad to see you too. Na-yeon is already asking to see you again. Do you want to grab lunch with us sometime?

You smiled at your phone, answering almost immediately. How could I say no?

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Sentient Gotham

- Bruce regularly chats w her. Like, full blown conversations. He can see a physical manifestation of her like she’s right in front of him, but completely invisible to everyone else

- Zatanna does not believe him. She’s Gotham born and bred and a powerful magician, but she cannot sense a living breathing Gotham the way Bruce claims he can

- Constantine does believe him, but it’s mostly to spite Zatanna

- Gotham calls herself Bruce’s mom and frequently whines about him not calling her that

> “I had a mother. And a father. They’re both dead.” > “WHEN WILL YOU STOP BLAMING ME FOR THAT?!” > “When I’m convinced it’s not true.”

- Bruce’s kids also don’t believe him about the whole ‘I talk to Gotham’ thing for a long time and think he’s either lost his mind, he’s schizophrenic, or that he’s fucking w them

- they do eventually see and speak to her themselves

- Jason first sees her right before his death, which was an incredibly difficult task for her. It’s a combination of reasons. 1) like Bruce, Jason is a Gotham City native and has deep ties to the city, 2) he has deep ties to Bruce, 3) she was also there to comfort Bruce because she knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. But Jason sees this gorgeous woman who cradles his cheek and murmurs soft words to him that he’ll only end up remembering many years later

> “Your father loves you. He tried. So please don’t hate him. It’s my fault, not his.”

- Bruce frequently wonders why it’s him who can see her and no one else, to which she always just says it’s because he’s her son

- Bruce’s connection to Gotham…changes him. He is human, at least…mostly. But there’s an otherworldliness to him that grows over the years which he’s stupidly oblivious to for a very long time

- Gotham has beef w Alfred purely because he’s British

> “I could’ve raised you better than that man!” > “I do not tolerate disrespect for Alfred.” > whining, “But babyyyyyy. He’s an outsider!”

- she adores Bruce’s kids and frequently whines about how they don’t believe she’s real. But at the same time, Bruce is her absolute beloved

- after Jason’s death, she’s the one who basically sends Tim Bruce’s way to stop his self destructive behavior. Tim had been taking pictures of Batman and Robin for a while, but Gotham had fogged over his mind just a little bit to prevent him from putting the pieces together about their identity. When she stops, it finally clicks for Tim and it’s what leads him to becoming Robin

- the kids all have their moment when they finally can see and speak to her. It happens at different times, but the important reason as to why they’re able to do so is due to their relationship to Bruce and the length of time they’ve been around him. It comes at the moment where they’ve reached optimal and absolute trust in Bruce

- Bruce does actually call her ‘mom’, but it happened once and she will never let him forget it

> Bruce getting worked up during a conversation w Gotham in front of Dick and Tim > “Dick….who is he talking to?” > “You don’t want to know.” > “My mom won’t stop badgering me- No. No. I didn’t say that. I didn’t call you that! You can’t prove anything!”

- Gotham comforts Bruce often when he feels like he’s not enough. His failures weigh heavy in his heart, but she’s always there to talk him through it

> “Why me? Why am I the one you picked? I’m not enough. I never will be.” > “You are and you always will be. Bruce, you do so much for this city. For me. For your family.” > “It’s not enough.” > “You are only mostly human, Bruce Wayne. You have done things no one else could ever hope to do. If any one else were in your position, they would not have nearly enough strength as you do.”

- several months later, after Bruce is just idly going over case files, he remembers the ‘mostly human’ part of what Gotham said to him. He’d glossed over it before in his depressive spiral, but now he’s like !?

> “Gotham….” > “Yes, my dear?” > “‘Mostly human’. Care to explain what that means?” > awkward laugh, “Uh…..” > “Gotham.” > “I didn’t do it on purpose! I had no control!” > “Gotham.”

- order of who sees Gotham:

Bruce (obviously)

Jason (first time)

Tim

Duke

Jason (second time)

Steph

Dick

Cass

Damian

- the last three take a while but mostly because they’re not Gotham natives. Dick’s a little bitter about it because he practically spent his entire life in Gotham

> “You’re a traitor.” > “WHAT DID I DO?” > disgust, “Blüdhaven.” > “Oh. Whoops.”

- While Gotham is Bruce’s #1 Supporter™️, she is at times critical of his behavior and decisions. Particularly about things that damage his relationship w loved ones and things that he chooses to do in order to hurt himself

- she finds ‘Brucie’ to be distasteful

> “I didn’t raise you to be a whore.” > “You didn’t raise me to begin with.” > “STOP DENYING ME PARENTAL RIGHTS!”

- Gotham is, obviously, restricted to only appear within Gotham City’s borders. She’s only able to break through that restriction a handful of times, w the first being when Jason dies. There are a few other instances and she’s popped up on the Watchtower and jumpscared Bruce by accident. The JL were very confused and incredibly amused

- She’s able to take on the form of anyone, but sticks to a unique appearance of a woman w long black hair and pale skin. Her eyes are white and she’s typically dressed in a suit

> young Bruce, in awe, “You kind of look like me if I were cooler.” > “You’re plenty cool, Bruce.” > adult Bruce, tired, “Why are you in a suit?” > “Because I look cool, Bruce. You said so yourself.” > “I was ten!”

- she once offered to take on the appearance of his mother and Bruce shot it down so fast. She never brought it up again

- when Clark found out about her, he believed Bruce immediately. He’s the only one Bruce ever told who believed him right off the bat

> “You…don’t think I’m insane?” > “I do.” > “Then why would you lie and say you believe me?” > “Because I do. You’re insane about a lot of things, Bruce. But you sounded too serious when you told me about this, so why would I ever think you’re lying?”

- Gotham begrudgingly likes Clark

> “You hate Alfred for being an outsider, but Clark is in your good graces?” > “He’s an alien. It’s different.” > “He’s also from Metropolis.” > “Shhhhhh, don’t remind me. I’m trying to be blissfully ignorant.”

[mochinomnoms]

why were you digging? what did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

art by wolfythewitch

Hozier lyrics in which they embody when loving you.

multi x gn!reader

[tw/cw} - some of the lyrics are gendered, few suggestive parts

[note] - i forgot i had this drafted for a while lol anyways only romantic vibes cause i couldnt find satisfactory lyrics for grim and ortho :( i also was gonna add the halloweenie boys but then it wouldnt have been evenly split and i didnt want that lol

"I know who I am when I'm alone/I'm something else when I see you" - It Will Come Back

He's always been sure of who he is and how he presents himself. He has an image that he must uphold, his reputation is dependent on it. Yet, that perfectly sculpted person comes crumbling down, firm marble turned into malleable clay with you. He should be appalled by the very idea of someone having so much hold over him, yet he can't bring himself to care. You see through him, and it's addicting. You see through him, but still show him kindness, and it's addicting. You see through him, still show him kindness, even knowing just what thoughts he has of you at night, and it's addicting. He has an addiction, and you're his drug of choice. There is no rehab for getting him off of you, once he's hooked he's never letting go of the high that you are. Then again, if you knew just who he really is, perhaps the addiction was mutual.

Riddle Rosehearts, Cater Diamond, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper

"We lay here for years or for hours/So long, we'd become the flowers" - In a Week

He is admittedly a simple man, even if he might portray or say he desires otherwise. But deep down, he is very simple: he'd like to be with you forever, that's it. Laying in the grass, the sounds of cicadas and birds singing, the smell of dewy grass and freshly bloomed flowers, all of that with you would be his dream. He hopes that you two will live a long life together, that your graves will be one, your bodies decomposing together into the earth as nature intended. You hope that centuries into the future, some bright-eyed archaeologists will see the patch of flowers growing over your grave and dig to find your two skeletons intertwined. You both hope that theories and myths are created in the image of your long gone bodies so that the memory of your love will live forever on.

Ruggie Bucchi, Jack Howl, Rook Hunt, Silver

"She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily/Better yet, she wouldn't care" - Jackie & Wilson

Loud and impulsive to a fault is how most would describe him, and really he should care more about the problems this causes. He should, but why when you take him as he is, flaws and all? To you, the impulsivity, his loud mouth, his rash nature, his bluntness, they weren't flaws—they were him and you love him. And he loves you—for all your naivete, doting, and enabling ways. If there's trouble to be found, it's likely you're both involved: you chasing after him as he goes of. Is it naive to think that this sort of relationship won't eventually burst into flames? Probably. Is it a bit toxic if you were to look at your relationship critically? Probably. But he doesn't care (even if he normally would or should), and neither do you. Instead, for just a bit, you indulge in the present, rather than the past or future. Just for a bit

Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Epel Felmier, Sebek Zigvolt

"You're bright as the morning, soft as the rain/Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape" - Too Sweet

Something about you is just a bit off-putting: you're a bit too put together, too cheery, too sweet for someone in your situation. It's more off-putting to him that he's drawn to you anyways. Part of him holds himself back, as he's a realist at heart. One day, any day now, you can go back home, where your sweetness rightfully belongs. Part of him though wants to that sweetness, make it rightfully his and his alone. It's why he can't keep himself away from you, he'd rather defile you, ruin you for anyone else so that you'd have no choice but to come running back to him for that sweet satisfaction that only he can provide. You're not stupid though, you know just what he's doing; lucky for him, you're happy to let him age you into a fine wine, made just for his taste.

Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Lilia Vanrouge

"Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I" - Francesca

You have ingrained your very being into his own. The sight, the sound thought of you has him yearning for your touch in ways that would put a god to shame. But Eros had no role in his love for you. Since he's met you, somehow you've managed to core out a space in his heart in the shape of your body. Without you, he'd be empty. Without you, he'd be devastated, experiencing an anguish that would kill his very soul. His love is so strong, so overwhelming, so earth-shattering that he'd alter the very laws of the universe just to keep you with him. Could you even bring yourself to deny him if the choice to leave ever came? You have him in the palm of your hand, like a god with their worshipper. You'll be a merciful and loving god to your devotee, won't you?

Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[matchpointfaist]

sheltered art! x flirty reader pt iv

pretty piece of flesh ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

halloween .

not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, art found himself wandering the rooms of a packed frat house, trying his best to steer clear of temptation. ever since he'd had that little taste of you, all the things he once saw as sins, were now just forbidden fruit; temptations dangled before him, calling to him, pulling him in deeper until eventually he'd betray everything he'd been taught, the very things he stood for and used to believe in.

it was halloween night, and he was dressed in chain link with a cheap prop sword dangling on his hip, as he and the tennis team had gone as king arthur and the knights. he found himself looking for you, in that small, subconscious way he'd grown all too comfortable with. sweeping the room for any trace of your hair, or your dark lipstick, or straining his ears for the slightest sound of your laugh.

you hadn't sought him out after that night. he told himself it was a good thing, that this thing between you could only end badly, but he knew it was all a lie. he checked his phone obsessively, eager for just a text from you, a confirmation that he didn't humiliate himself and run you off forever. in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the thought that he should have known this would happen. you were too good to be true.

in the midst of his self pity, he glanced up as someone said your name, and there you were. like something from heaven, or hell, or wherever the fuck you had to have come from. gone was the dark eyeliner and lipstick, the sultry look you always seemed to have. you were all clean, light colors, innocent little look in your eye. a pretty white dress, fluffy angel wings, and a shimmery halo on your head.

it felt like you were torturing him, mocking his faith, or the faith he'd lost the moment you sank to your knees in front of him. the way you'd said god's name even as his come shined on your lips; he was weak in the knees, in the middle of all his friends, watching you walk over, the memories on a reel in his mind.

"art," you smiled, so sweet, so cloying, "i didn't know you'd be here. cool costume," he tried to remember how to speak normally, how not to give himself away for how depraved he was feeling, "uh, yeah- i got invited. you look beautiful, i mean, i love your costume,"

you laughed, and jesus, your hand was on his arm again. "i thought maybe you'd appreciate it," you smiled, blinking up at him with wide, faux doe eyes, "you think god would mind you being with an angel, art?"

he didn't give a fuck what god minded. he didn't care about anything other than your hand on his arm and the look in your eye and the cross necklace he now recognized as the one he suspiciously couldn't find after your last meeting, now dangled around your neck. he threw faith out the window just as he had the second you entered his bedroom, taking your hand in his and pulling you to a more secluded part of the house, even with his head screaming at him that he was taking this too far.

"you didn't call," he said quietly, "i thought you didn't want to see me, and now you're here and that's my necklace, and what are you doing dressed up like an angel anyway?" he could hear how ridiculous he sounded, like he had any right to demand you call him, like he knew what he was doing when it came to you at all.

"there ya go," you sounded pleased, a small smile on your lips, "knew you'd come out of that shell eventually. you missed me, isn't that right?" and then you were on your tip toes, leaning up to kiss him, so sweet and so dangerous.

he pulled you against him, practically clinging to you, his hands resting under your angel wings and his mouth hungry against yours. "missed you too," you mumbled between kisses, all sloppy and desperate and wrong just right.

he couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything other than this, than your hands wandering over his costume and the way you bit as his bottom lip just enough to make him crazy. and then you were pulling him into one of the bedrooms, and he couldn't say no, couldn't even think that he'd ever wanted anything but this.

he pulled you to the bed, pulling you into his lap, panting against your lips and letting his hands wander wherever he felt like it. he was so tired of being good, of doing the right thing, and you felt so fucking good against him. and god, the sounds you made, the little whimpers between kisses and the way you mumbled his name as you kissed down his neck, biting his collarbone, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin behind his ear.

"want you," he whined as you nipped at the skin, his hips bucking beneath you, "god, please, i'll be so good," you giggled against him, kissing back up to his mouth, "know you'd be good," you sounded almost like you were teasing him, "not gonna take your virginity in a frat guys bedroom, art,"

but then your hands were wandering even lower, pulling down his pants, and he prayed that you didn't mean it, that you'd let him fuck you and finally end this horrible yearning. instead, you left him in his boxers and settled back in his lap, kissing him with a feverish need.

you ground your hips against him, and he could feel the wetness seeping through the cotton of the layers between you, a low groan rumbling in his throat. "how bad do you want it?' you whispered as you trailed your kisses low once again, "tell me, wanna hear you say it," he dug his fingers into your hips, trying to keep some form of composure, "want it so bad, please, just want something-"

you reached down, sliding down his boxers just enough for his cock to slap against his abs, smiling as he sucked in a breath at the feeling. then you settled back into his lap, gently taking him into your hand, and he nearly fainted when you slid him inside your soaked panties, grinding against him.

he gasped, his eyes closing, his teeth digging into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "oh my god, you're so wet," he groaned, pulling you back and forth against him with shaking hands, "feels so good, i'm-"

"all for you," you grabbed his jaw, pulling him in almost close enough to kiss you, "know you're close, just go ahead," you said it so sweetly, like you really didn't mind, and he felt so bad but you felt so good, he was pulling away in an instant, spilling cum all over your thighs, panting and whining and rutting against your skin.

he rested his head against your chest as he caught his breath, apologizing for making a mess of you, but you waved it off, running your fingers through his hair in a way that almost made him feel like this really meant something to you.

"you didn't finish," he mumbled into your skin, pressing a soft kiss against your chest, "let me- can you show me? wanna make you feel good, too," you shifted off his lap in response, taking one of his hands in yours, "so sweet," you hummed, "come here,"

and then your legs were spread, and your panties were pulled to the side, and he could've died right there and gone straight to heaven. "so beautiful," he hated how in awe he sounded, but he truly was. you felt like a gift from god, a reward for how good he'd been for so long.

you motioned for him to come closer, and he was so close he was nearly whining again, need thrumming in his veins. "tell me what to do," he practically begged, looking up at you through thick lashes, "wanna be good,"

you might've been dressed like an angel, but you felt like some sort of demon, some siren, as art donaldson sat between your thighs, following all your instructions so eagerly, lapping at your cunt like he'd done it a million times before. you knew he'd be good, so eager to please, so sweet and patient. he was so good, such a good man, perfect for you to teach and grow with.

you didn't care about any of that as your hands were fisted in his hair, rocking against his face as he sucked at your clit, little whines leaving his mouth and vibrating against you. he was rutting against the mattress, desperate like he was the one getting head, and that made it so much better.

"gonna- fuck, art, gonna come for you," you moaned, your grip on his hair growing tighter as that only encouraged him more. he was chasing it, hungry for it, so desperate to be good to you. you came with a sharp gasp, your eyes rolling back as he worked the orgasm out of you, so thorough and devoted.

when you were finished, he crawled up to kiss you, his lips wet and shining in the dim bedroom light. "was that- did i do good?" he asked timidly, and you nodded, pulling him down to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "so good," you mumbled, tracing your fingertips down his back, "you're perfect,"

you let yourself fall asleep despite it not even being your house, despite you telling yourself that this was a mistake, sleeping tangled up with art like this.

you'd never slept better.

[captain-hawks]

yakuza!kuroo, 18+ (fingering, oral sex f!receiving)

it’s your wedding night, and kuroo is weak.

weak after months of watching you yearn for his affection, of watching your hopeful expression morph into something painfully resigned (it feels like a gash behind his ribcage).

he thinks back to the night he took your father aside. he didn’t even know you, yet he found himself pleading with your father not broker a deal with nohebi. not to marry you off to fucking daishou suguru.

“he’ll ruin her,” kuroo bit out, because he knows what happened to daishou’s last wife (he shudders at the memory of it).

the thought of another woman going through that makes him sick to his stomach.

“i have no other choice to keep her safe right now,” your father stared at him, blunt and unapologetic. “you know who i am, what that entails.”

marriage was such a foreign concept to kuroo at the time, he’d never considered it for any sort of arrangement, let alone out of love. and yet—

“i’ll marry her.”

your father had warned him not to get attached. the engagement, the marriage—it’s all meant to be temporary. until things in tokyo cool down or your father decides to whisk you off somewhere else entirely.

you’re with kuroo for nekoma’s protection.

you don’t know this, of course. that kuroo’s been keeping you at arm’s length because he doesn’t want to hurt you when this charade crumbles. it’s better for you to hate him from the start.

(and really, he doesn’t trust himself to be able to let you go back to your father once he’s truly had you. once you’re really his.)

but it’s your wedding night.

and kuroo tetsurou has become a weak, weak man.

(weak for you.)

“do you want help?”

kuroo pauses in front of your bedroom, door left slightly ajar, gaze falling to where you’re currently struggling to undo the straps of your heels.

you blink at him several times, and he can’t blame you for being surprised. he’s never set foot in your bedroom, after all (not counting the night he brought you home after you were abducted—when he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you as he carried you in his arms to your bed).

but you eventually nod, collapsing back onto your mattress in a huff.

you changed into a short, thin, white silky dress for the latter half of the evening, one that’s been mercilessly eating away at the frayed edges of kuroo’s wavering self-control. and now your pretty, smooth thighs are on full display as the skirt unapologetically rides up with the position that you’re in.

kuroo inhales slowly before coming to kneel between your legs, trying not to revel in the way he feels you immediately react to the feeling of his hands wrapping around your ankles.

he doesn’t mean to do it, doesn’t mean to run the pad of his thumb over the arch of your foot (doesn’t mean to forget to breathe as he listens to your answering sharp intake of breath).

but kuroo is weak, weak for you. weak for his wife.

and when his heat of his lips finds your ankle, he can’t bring himself to care about anything else but the way you whimper his name.

“kuroo.”

he glances up at you, finds you sitting up halfway on your elbows staring at him with an expression that has his pants tightening almost painfully against the swell of his cock.

“i think we can agree it’s tetsurou now, no?” he asks before leaning back in to press a longer, hotter open-mouthed kiss to your knee.

your fingers bunch in the sheets.

“tetsurou,” you gasp.

kuroo feels something zip down his spine at the sound of those syllables dancing off of your tongue. and it’s a little terrifying, the sudden free fall he finds himself in—this near-loss of control.

because in this moment, kuroo knows he’d do anything to hear that sound again.

and he knows that despite all of the distance he’s wedged between the two of you, despite the fact that that this is supposed to be business and you were never really meant to be his—

kuroo knows now that if someone wants to take you away from him, they’re going to have to kill him first.

he wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you to the edge of the mattress, slowly sliding up the skirt of your dress as he greedily kisses his way up the inside of your thighs.

you’re so fucking sensitive beneath his touch he thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

your panties are the same blood red shade as the tie he wore today. his cock aches at the revelation. he runs a careful finger over the lace, staring up at you from where he’s still kneeling between your spread legs.

“can i touch you?” he asks, voice a little hoarse.

you have to smother a laugh with your hand, borderline hysterical over the implication that there’s any universe where you’d deny him. kuroo fights the urge to palm his dick through his pants as you say “yes” and “please.”

the lace tickles his lips as kuroo mouths at your cunt through your panties, teasing you until the material’s wholly soaked through with his spit and your arousal as you unconsciously bury your fingers in his hair and beg him for more.

you loosen your grip when he stops sucking at your clothed pussy, eyes widening a little as you realize you were pulling his hair.

“sorry,” you breathe out.

kuroo grins, butting his head against your hovering hand, “no, i like it.”

hooking a finger in your panties and tugging them aside, he lets his teeth press into his lower lip as he stares at the messy slick dripping from your folds.

for him.

he swipes his thumb up and down the length of your slit, just barely skirting the swollen, waiting bundle of nerves at your apex.

“you’re so wet,” he murmurs, feeling the messy smear of precum steadily soaking into his pants while you buck your hips into his touch.

kuroo’s never had the pleasure of coming untouched.

but he thinks he could when he slides a finger into your soaking wet cunt and feels the way your creamy walls tighten around him.

he thinks that the sound of you moaning his name alone could milk his cock dry as he fucks you with one finger until you’re begging for two, pulling his hair and cupping his face in a desperate frenzy.

and then kuroo slides off your panties and buries his tongue in your cunt, and he feels just as gone as you sound and feel while you’re wildly bucking into his touch, choking out a sob as a wet spray squirts out of you while when he sends you tumbling over the edge of your climax.

(he groans against your pussy as he feels his cock finally twitching and pulsing hot and thick in his boxers.)

the two of you sit there for minutes afterward, you on the bed and him kneeling on the floor before you, both of you struggling to catch your breath. to make sense of what just happened.

and something inside of kuroo cracks open at the shuttered look of rejection that begins to sink across your face when he goes to stand up, takes a step away.

you don’t try to stop him.

but he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he murmurs, “i’m just getting a towel to clean you up.”

you look up at him, lips parting slightly in surprise.

“i’m not leaving,” he assures you, slowly stroking the curve of your jaw.

[dfstolenart]

Home With You | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: After a long and emotionally exhausting day, you come home feeling overwhelmed from the weight of your job but luckily your sweet loving boyfriend is there to comfort you.

A/N: so cuteeeee, love this one. Lmk your thots<33

BYR (B4 u Reid): sweet Spencer!, hard day at work, hints at abuse, child gets taken away, sad reader, sweet talk, flirting and feeling of not being enough. | kissing <— [warnings]

Your home was dimly lit when you entered the smell of a vanilla candle filled your nose, and your boyfriend was on the couch with a book on his lap

The weight of the day still pressing on your shoulders, you shut the door quietly behind you and drop your bag down with little care to where it lands

The exhaustion isn’t just physical, it sits in your bones heavy and aching, like the stories you’ve heard today, the ones you can’t unhear. The ones that make you question if you’re even making a difference.

You forget you’re standing in the middle of the entry way until a soft gentle voice pull you out “You’re late.”

He’s still sat on the couch only this time his eyes are on you scanning your face the way he does when he profiles a suspect “I know.” You murmur as you kick off your shoes “Didn’t expect to be.”

You make your way towards him, and he quickly closes his book moving it to the side of him “Come here.” He softly says as he pulls you onto his lap “tough day?”

The laugh that leaves you is hallow “That’s one way to put it.” Before you can say anything else Spencer’s hand is cupping your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones

His touch is grounding, pulling you back from the spiral you feel yourself slipping into.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head “not yet”

He nods, understanding in his eyes “okay”

You rest your head on him, and grab his hands interlacing them together

For a while neither of you speak. The silence is comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. But Spencer is patient, he always is. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. Eventually you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“There was a little boy today. Six years old. His mom.. she” your voice cracked “She wasn’t a monster, Spencer. She wasn’t some evil person, but she was sick, and he was the one paying for it.” You feel his arms tighten around you, and he presses a soft gentle kiss to the side of your head “I’m sorry” he murmurs

“I had to take him away. He cried the whole time for his mommy, telling me she didn’t mean it trying to convince me to take him back home.” Your eyes stung with tears and you squeeze them shut “I know I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Spencer sighed, and squeezed your hand “Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself if I’ve done the right thing? If all of us at the BAU have? We don’t always get happy endings. Sometimes we don’t even get closure, But what keeps me going, what keeps us all going is knowing that we tried. That we did everything we could.”

You met his gaze, searching for something understanding, reassurance. And you find it.

His hand leaves yours to brush a tear from your cheek “That little boy… he might not understand now, but one day, he will. And because of you he’ll have a chance at something better.”

You let out a shaky breath

“I just feel like I’m suffocating sometimes, like no matter how much I do it’s never enough for these kids. I want to do more for them, i wish I could just take all their pain from them.”

Spencer pulled you in closer to him “you’re doing more than enough.” You close your eyes allowing yourself to believe him, even if it’s just for tonight.

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too.” He says, holding you tighter, as if he could shield you from all the darkness in the world.

Spencer holds you against him for a long time, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. His warmth, his presence, it’s enough to keep you tethered even when your mind still lingers on the weight of the day

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice lighter now, teasing “cuddling releases oxytocin, which reduces stress and promotes emotional bonding. So technically I am scientifically proven to be good for you.”

You both look at each other smiles both plastered on your faces “oh, is that so Dr. Reid?”

“Mhm” he hums clearly pleased with himself “Also prolonged physical affection can also lower blood pressure and improve someone’s overall mood. So, really, I’d be doing you a disservice if I let you go.”

Amusement flickered through your tired eyes “To me, that sounds like an excuse to keep me in your arms.”

He smirked “It’s science. Don’t argue against it.”

You shake your head rolling your eyes “I think you just like having me close.”

“I do” he admits easily, his voice dropping just slightly sending a shiver down your spine, his fingers continue to trail lightly up and down your arm “You’re warm, you smell good and well I’m very fond of you.”

“Fond of me?” You raised an eyebrow “You’re supposed to be utterly obsessed with me.”

He let out a small laugh “what if I say I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you? That I think about you every second we’re apart, and when you’re not in my arms, I wish you were.”

Your breath catches, your heart flutters you feel so special to hear these words come from the man in front of you “That's better.” you say

Spencer leans in, brushing his nose against yours before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. It's slow, lingering, and so sweet

Then he pulls back, you feel empty without his lips on yours “Then i’ll remind you every day for as long as I live.” your heart swelled

“You're really good at this whole comforting thing.” You smile as you rest your forehead against his, he grins “Well I do have an IQ of 18-”

“Shut up” you cut him off with a desperate kiss . . .

[revelboo]

A lot of the stuff in your version of TFP, is kind of giving beastars, the carnivore and herbivore interrelationship kind of vibe. with both species need to have a full understanding of one another.

There’s a lot of misunderstandings when you’re dealing with different species/cultures and I like playing up those moments

Broken Arrow Pt 17

TFP Megatron x Reader

• Blowing out a breath as you ignore his blatant staring, you dangle your feet into the heated bath tub you’d convinced him to get the Vehicons to build for you. Though really, it’s more a pool than anything else. Pushing your plush robe off and fiddling with your jingly harness to undo it, you hear his low, predatory growl and pointedly ignore it. Know the tub was a bribe to get back in your good graces after he’d decided to asset dominance by petting you in front of all of his subordinates while sitting on his stupid throne. Or maybe that had just been him trying to make everyone around him uncomfortable for his amusement.

• Rumbling as you lean to drop your harness onto the floor, you push off into the water without even acknowledging him. Still angry and embarrassed about before. It’ll take some time to get you to understand that you’re his. You shouldn’t care what his underlings think, because their opinions don’t matter when it comes to you. Eventually, you’ll allow him to fully bond you. Resting an arm against the counter your little tub is on, he watches the way you move in the water, the way you can twist and bend. And breaking the surface for air, you frown at him when he dabbles his claws in the water. “Do you need something?” You demand, treading water. Primus, that tone of your goes right through him. The challenge in it stringing him tight because it demands a reaction.

• Grinning to bare those sharp denta at you, there’s no denying the thrill of provoking him on purpose even though you know he’ll eventually bite. Heat and interest coiling you tight despite yourself when he vaults up onto the counter, mass shifting and studies your pool. He wouldn’t come in. He can’t. His metal butt will sink like a big, pointy rock. Clawed servos gripping the edge, he hauls himself over and drops in with you, sloshing water over the side of the tub. And you retreat to the far end, eyes narrowed and trying not to crack up, because he’s standing, but the water is deep enough only his grinning mouth up is showing. Like the world’s ugliest crocodile.

• You’re much less confidant now, treading water as far from him as you can get. Stalking after you, he’s slower in the water and you tense until he’s almost close enough to grab you before you dive underneath and swim away. Making him work to capture you. Patiently tracking you and following, aware that you’re trying so hard not to smile. That you want to be caught. “You’re too slow,” you taunt, growing more confident that he can’t catch you. And he’s going to pin you to the wall of your tub and frag you until you can’t move once he gets his servos on you. You’re faster, but he doubts you have the stamina to keep darting around like that forever.

• Cracking up when he just grins at you and patiently follows, his expression is almost playful. You’ve seen him tease you before, but this feels different. He’s enjoying this game. Hunting you like prey appealing to some part of him and you know what he’ll do when he gets those big hands on you. That grin of his is a promise and a threat. Realizing something is very messed up with you for wanting to be caught by him. To feel him inside you, almost too rough, too wild. To feel those sharp denta leave another careful mark on your skin. Breath hitching, you dive to avoid him and slide your thigh against his leg flirting with danger and barely getting away before he can grab for you.

Previous

[meongryeongi]

info: bf!anton x reader , fluffy stuff , they’re in love :(

“god, i missed you.” you say, petting his head next to yours on your shared pillow.

“missed you too.” he replies in a whisper, admiring your features as he holds your face.

“you don’t even know what it’s like sleeping with a pillow pressed against my back and pretending it’s you. except i know it’s not you because the pillow doesn’t kiss my shoulder and snore and breathe down my neck.” you tell him.

he giggles, his sweet smile spreading across his face and his eyes turning to soft crescents. “yeah?”

“mhm.. you do all the most annoying things in the sweetest ways. didn’t realize i’d miss you snoring directly into my ear so much.”

anton giggles again. after coming back home to you from a long tour he thought he’d have more to say but in reality he just missed your face. and your voice. he’ll let you talk as long as you want as long as he gets to be in your presence and stare at your pretty face.

the last couple months have all felt like a dream but feeling your touch on his skin once again he feels like he’s been brought back to life. so exhausted and ready to sleep the night away in your arms, yet so, so, in love. why would he sleep now if he falls in love with you all over again as you tell him some of the things he missed. your giggles and your smile and your voice.

sure, you called any free moment the two of you had, but it’s never the same as having you next to him.

“ton?”

“mmh?” he snaps back to reality.

“are you tired? you keep spacing out. do you want to sleep?” you ask him, ready to give him everything he needs.

“hmm.. maybe… but keep talking, missed your voice.” he tells you, nuzzling his face farther into your palm.

you pull him closer and plant the softest of kisses along his face. nose, forehead, temple, jaw, cheekbones.

usually he would whine and hide his blushing face, but today he just lets you.

he smiles so softly, blinking slowly at you, sleepily, as you continue your stories.

eventually his eyes close with the weight of the day he’d had and he drifts off to sleep. to be returned home in the warmth and comfort that is you, anton wishes to never leave. he doesn’t remember what he last heard before he slipped away to dreamland, maybe something about what your boss said at work last week.

as he sleeps, he dreams of you. of your soft skin and your sweet voice. he dreams of a future with you. he’ll make you his forever, he knows that.

and he knows that for a fact when he wakes up to you asleep too, holding his head against your chest, your arm wrapped protectively around his broad shoulders.

anton’s big, muscular, but sensitive, everyone knows that. and you treat him with the utmost love and care. he wishes to live in the safety of your hold for an eternity. an eternity with you doesn’t sound so bad.

heyyyy long time no post… 😅 i know i’ve only ever written for skz but i love anton and he’s my baby and i just had to write this when i thought of it!!! i’m a little nervous about this one considering i haven’t really written in a while but thank u for reading!! ❤️ i might write some more for riize in the future but i’m trying to get back into writing for skz as well!

[fanged-fanfics]

Hi! If it’s alright can I request a platonic headcanon of Pure Vanilla with a touch starved reader?

Their really physically affectionate however doesn’t often ask for hugs or cuddles because their worried about breaking other people’s boundaries. They’ll ask every time before hugging someone if the person is in need of comfort but won’t when they need one.

Also hope your day has been a good one! Make sure to hydrate and eat if you haven’t already ^^

☆ A Shoulder To Lean On — Pure Vanilla Cookie & Touch Starved!Reader ☆

Genre: Platonic, Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Pure Vanilla is patient above all else. Though he can sense what you need, he won't push it. He notices how you care for others, but it saddens him when you don't give yourself the same care

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Slowly, casually, he begins regularly asking you if you'd care for a hug. He'd tell you he was just in need of one, in reality it was whenever he could sense that you'd need one the most. As this routine continued, he always made sure you were comfortable first

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He feels honored whenever you have your rare moments of having the courage to ask him for the affection first, and always gives you a kind smile while agreeing and pulling you into his arms

ᯓᡣ𐭩 One day during a little cuddle session, Pure Vanilla mentions that he doesn't mind if you'd start coming to him more frequently. You're a little confused how he came around to asking, and he admits that he's gotten rather attuned to your emotions and reassures you to ask whenever you'd like

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It takes time, but Pure Vanilla is never the type to push or try to rush you. He silently extends his arm when you're nearby in invitation, and he always accepts your requests for affection. He always gives you words of reassurance, and let's you air out your worries unburdened

ᯓᡣ𐭩 If anything, he'll set aside a set time just for you so you know when he'll be completely free to hang out with you. You at first tell him he doesn't have to do that, but he insists that time spent with you is just as valuable

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He eventually confides in you that he knows how you feel. Maybe not in quite the same way, but the craving for contact is a familiar one. So there's no shame in leaning on him, as he finds it only fair considering the times where he leans on you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 At your most comfortable, you're able to cuddle with him whenever the mood strikes. In a field, his room, wherever you two have the space. He finds it just as comforting as you, and he'll gladly pet your back while you feel your worries melt away

[demon-at-peace]

DP + DC ficlet

Hi just a short bit of an idea I had, totally non cannon, I basically had an idea and rolled with it,

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Danny Fenton had died and no one even noticed, no one even cared. At 14 he had stepped into the portal and he died, and he lived. He died a thousand times, and he lived. He was a halfa, a curious being one from myths. No one noticed, and he continued, to live, to fight, except he was dead. He killed pariah dark at 16. He fought with everything he had. He became a king, the ruler of the dead. But he was too alive for the dead and too dead for the living.

At sixteen he died screaming, he died a second time, and he did not come back. Danny Fenton died that day and Phantom remained, and no one mourned either of them. He escaped, he ran, and he gave up in the living. No he served the dead. He gave them peace. He mourned them.

Perhaps he looked strange, but no one asked why he wore black, no one questioned his affinity for solving cases, they never did notice he was merely talking to the victim. He wasn't some genius. He was asked for help eventually, a cold case in Gotham he was asked to take a look at, and he complied, he took the case, and smiled at the shades. 

And the shades smiled back and they watched him with curious eyes. They were quieter than other shades Danny talked too, they didn't care about their murders they cared about their avengers, the Gotham shades didn't want revenge, they had already been revenged, by Batman.

Really it was funny the way they talked about him, they were so terribly fond of him. Red Hood would be even more popular if not for the fact that he killed some of the shades. Robin had a good reputation, but the newest robin, he was fear, he snapped and hissed, he was angry. Red Robin, who laughed and talked, who was ever so calm, he had the best reputation among the dead.

Even though they talked about the bats and birds, they still talked about their deaths, they gave him names and faces. It was a week after he'd come to Gotham that he finally reached the shade he needed to talk too. He didn't smile, he never smiled when dealing with death. "Pleasure to meet you, Tim Drake Wayne isn't it?"

The shades head snapped up, and Danny stared into icy blue eyes, "My name isn't Wayne!" he spits. Danny however is barely listening, the only thing he can think about is the domino mask on the shades face. Scratched and marred, covered in blood.  

"I  suppose not," Danny agrees still staring at the ruined suit, "I suppose this case is a dead end, assuming you died as robin?"

"Please, as if I'm still robin," he scoffs, "But who are you? Or perhaps what are you? After all you can see me and I'm dead," He asks curiously. 

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Yeah not cannon at all, idk if I'll continue it but it was fun to write,

Bye :)