#i just want to know who she was and who her family was outside of 'idk you're native but don't look into it lol'

[dcxdpdabbles]

So an idea if you want to use it (sorry if it is long-)

I was reading a fic where Jazz, Danny, Dan and Dani(Ellie) were trasnported in Gotham but the twist? they are children

Jazz is 10

Dan and Danny are 5

And Ellie is a 1 year baby

So what if....

Jazz becames a vigilante by accident (bc she killed the Joker when he was teatening her siblings) and they decide to hide in Wayne manor. why? well bc is the only place where is "safe" also bc Danny and Dan wanted to invade an Fruitloop mansion (only Alfred and Duke knows theyre there-)

But the best part? All the Fentom sibling are children of Bruce Wayne (just think abt it-)

I think the fic you're talking about is Alfred and the Tiny Attic Squatters! I highly recommend it for those who haven't read it, especially for the interactions between Jazz and Damian. My version of this prompt isn't be as good as this fic, but I hope you enjoy it!

Wayne Manor is a large estate. It is a seven-story building with seventy rooms within the one hundred and fifty acres owned by the Waynes. It had three pools, the largest outside and the smaller indoor pools on the third and seventh floors. Two helipads were on top of the west and main wings.

They were no longer traditional wings but an interconnected section built under Master Thomas' watchful eye. He wanted the Manor to be one massive unit, discarding the social barriers previous heads of the family had wished to create with the buildings.

Although the East wing was seven floors, it was initially the servant's chambers, the West was visiting for guests that were not quite important enough to be within the inner circle of the Waynes, and the Main one, the most elegant of them all, where the Waynes lived, and occasionally hosted the most important members of high society.

Master Thomas made it a project to upgrade every inch of the Manor to ensure it had the latest modern delights. He took that opportunity to build hallways connecting the wings, making them as important as the Main.

However, the servants had been so used to describing the grounds in the old manner that Master Thomas could not stop people from referring to the wings regardless of his good intentions.

When Alfred was hired, he was one of the twenty butlers employed by Master Thomas. There were the twenty maids, the ten chiefs, and the three groundskeepers.

The large estate was never without noise or the people moving about. Someone was always there, all proud to work for the kindhearted doctor and his philanthropist wife. Alfred had only applied for the position because, at the time, he had not been handling losing his entire team well.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Their last hurra towards the war's end, but the tensions at the borders had been underreported, and Alfred had been the only solider among the seven-man team to make it back from the front lines. The guilt was so heavy that he could not join his countrymen in celebration, drowning his sorrows in whatever bottle he could find.

Alfred tried for a few years to live as a civilian again, but every night, his teammate's screams haunted him. Soon, he could not stand being in England, not even to watch the country rebuild.

He had run from Her Majesty's service, run from his duties as a father, and run from his home. Somehow, he found himself working on various boats, working to buy his next bottle as a boat hand. One of those boats Master Thomas had boarded.

Alfred had just been informed he was fired for being caught drunk on the job too many times when he stumbled by Master Thomas' room. The crew would wait till they docked in America before throwing him off the ship. He had not meant to press his ear to the man's door, but the swaying of the boat and drunken balance had ended up with him leaning on the wood to stay upright.

That's how he overhears Master Thomas' choked cries for help. Alfred had burst through the door, startling a man with wire wrapped around Master Thomas' neck.

An assassin had been sent to kill the young Wayne heir so his company would be broken up among unworthy cousins. Alfred's training had kicked in, and despite being so sloshed he was seeing doubles, the Englishman had defeated the would-be killer.

Master Thomas was so grateful that he offered him a job at the manor. Alfred had agreed since he had no other plan, figuring he would drink his way to his grave on the nobleman's coin.

Years later, no matter how often Master Thomas insisted Alfred saved his life, he knew it was the other way around. His boss had turned into a trusted friend, who pried the bottles from his hand, forced him to write to his daughter, and taught him to live once more.

Many whispered rumors of a love affair between the two, but Alfred never let it bother him. None of them knew Master Thomas as he did.

None of them understood the man loved the world with his entire heart, was so good that the idea of caring for someone just to get them into bed never crossed his mind, or that if sunshine could be personified, it would take the shape of Thomas Wayne.

Alfred was just one among the fifty-three employees, but he foolishly felt a part of the family anyway. They all did. Master Thomas could make anyone feel like a beloved cousin, and when he brought home Mistress Martha, well, the family had just gotten bigger.

The little paddle of Master Bruce's footsteps added to the noise and warmth of the manor. It was as if his birth filled a hole they had not known needed filling.

Wayne Manor was a large estate, but it never made anyone feel small within its grounds. Alfred devoted himself to ensuring everything was in top shape for his friend, becoming the head buttler when the last one retired and came to care for Master Bruce in his upbringing. The world was bright and joyful, and Alfred felt like he believed in hope once more.

Then, Master Thomas and Mistress Martha were killed.

All at once, the Wayne Manor fell silent. Master Bruce was far too young to manage his estate. His shares in the company passed to his uncle- a man Alfred detested greatly- his employee's pay cut off. Many of the servants attempted to remain for free, but it soon became apparent they could not survive without an income.

One by one, they vanished, the wings sealed shut upon their departure. Only Alfred remains loyal to the boy with Master Thomas' eyes but no longer with his spark.

Something broke inside of Master Bruce that day. Something that would lead to Batman would consume his every thought and soul. Alfred feared the boy would join his parents if he, too, left for England, leaving him to his uncle and the suddenly too-large house he once called home.

Wayne Manor was far too large for only two people. Alfred hated the way his footsteps echoed whenever he walked through the two wings because with Master Bruce remaining in the Main wing, there was no other sound except for Alfred.

He was alone. Again.

Alfred moved into the Main wing three months later, knowing he would go mad if he stayed in the East wing. The West Wing fell out of use when Master Bruce became obsessed with fighting crime and no longer allowed guests to spend the night.

Even years later, when Master Bruce used his playboy persona to hide his night activities, he never opened the two large wooded doors into the other wings. The parties were always in the Main Wing and had an end time. If a guest did stay, Alfred had a room in nearby rooms to the ballrooms ready.

When Master Dick was brought in, Alfred had put the lad on the seventh floor of the Main wing alongside Master Bruce. He then filled up the rooms downwards for all the following children. Alfred lived on the second floor of the Main wing, his room far back from the stairway, content with the thumps of the children overhead as they walked to and fro the manor.

He could not bring himself to unseal the wings. Not even when the children asked about the large double doors, always closed shut. The silence was a haunting reminder of the alley that took away the personification of sunshine.

Secretly, Alfred believed Master Bruce felt the same, so he never ordered the butler to open them. The children no doubt walk through the wings- one could not be a crime-fighting partner to Batman without breaking some unspoken rules- but there was nothing of interest.

Only furniture covered in cloth and empty rooms that held the shards of Alfred's broken heart. A part of life slowly forgotten in the wake of devastation. After a curious walk-through, the children never bothered with the two wings again.

Or at least Alfred believed them to become bored.

He was unsure why Master Damian, Master Duke, Master Tim, or Miss Cass would want to enter the East Wing after so many years. Yet here he stood, feather duster in hand, feeling shocked to see those doors again open.

Alfred had just been doing his bi-monthly dusting of the less used rooms of the Main wing when he noticed that the East wing door had been left slightly open. Someone had forgotten to close it properly, and the dust around the doorknob was noticeably thicker on one side than the other.

The lights in the hallway behind it were still shut off, dressing the other side of the door in shadows. Alfred could almost say the darkness was looming over him, taunting him with hurtful memories but calling to him all the same.

He had not crossed to the other wings since before Master Jason had been brought to the manor. Alfred had not been strong enough to survive hurtful members before, and his cowardness had led him to run from those wings.

Yet still, the darkness called.

Swallowing, the aged butler placed the feather duster down. He pulled out the smartphone Miss Steph insisted he owned to click on his flashlight. His gloved hands curl around the knob, his fingers starting to shake as he pulls.

The hinges creaked loudly, nearly downing out his shattering breath. It's noisy from the misuse, he knows, but it still feels like the Manor itself is accusing him of abandonment.

He nearly turns around right there, but he sees a slight glow at the far end of the wing. Smaller than the one on his phone, almost the stairway. It reminds him briefly of the glow-in-the-dark star stickers that Master Dick had placed in his room during the first few months of living in Gotham.

The lad had missed seeing the shine of the night sky.

Alfred's toes are right at the edge of the doorframe as he strains his eyes, trying to make out what the glow is. The shine moves around from the stairway, disappearing from sight, leaving him shining a light into the darkness of the old, empty hallway.

His feet move without much thought across the doorway as he stumbles- as silent as the night. Someone had taught Master Bruce, after all. He passes by white cloths dropped over furniture and empty walls- the painting had been moved to storage, the potted plants withered away years ago, and the vases either sold off by Master Bruce's uncle or lost in some place.

The air is musty, as Alfred had not bothered to clean or air this entire building out in years. His nose tickles from all the dust particles flying around as he swings his light carefully.

He stops just at the end of the stairway, eyes fixated on a window. A slightly open window, its glass unable to see through, but what really shocked him was the tiny handprint on the lower right panel.

It's the shape of a small child. The trail of footprints, outlined by the floors he long ago gave up on, is also that of a child's, leading towards the stairs and climbing them upwards. Alfred shuts off his light, pushing it into his pocket as he blindly uses the railing to guide him upwards.

The slight footprints do not go down hallways but keep going up and up until he's on the top floor and at the edge of the hallways where the master room of this wing is. Each floor at Wayne Manor, regardless of wing, houses three bedrooms.

The East Wing rooms are unique because they hold a sitting area, a small kitchen, and an ensuite bathroom. They were designed to make guests feel like they were staying in a luxury hotel so they would not feel snubbed for not being invited into the main wing.

They could be self-sustainable if they were not accompanied by servants.

Alfred could see the light turn on in the last room, hear various voices, and, most alarming, a blender was in use. He creeps closer, letting the noise of the machine mask his approach.

This door is slightly open as well. It was likely the same person who did not close the main entrance correctly. The crack in the wood is big enough he can peer through with one eye and not have his entire face in the open.

Alfred is stunned to find a young girl with red hair, no older than ten, standing at the counter fixing dinner. Master Bruce never shut off the wings' utilities merely because they were connected to the Main. The water, the heater, the light, and all of it were in use as the young girl let the blender stop, pouring a green drink into three cups.

She hums to herself, placing the glass into the sink. The redhead hops off the chair with an easy little twist of her feet, moving towards the wall oven and looking through the glass door.

"Pizza is almost ready!" She calls. Twin cheers pop up from Alfred's sight, but he doesn't have to wonder who released them for long before two tiny blurs rush into the kitchen.

A pair of young boys, likely twins based on their identical features, no older than five, press themselves against the oven. They have to stand on their toes to correctly see the pizza, but it does nothing to deter their excitement.

The little redhead girl pats the head of one of them on her way to the stove, pulling a milk bottle out of a pot on the stovetop. "Danny, can you bring Dani to me?"

Alfred wonders by the repeat of the name as the other little boy- the one she did not pat- steps away from the oven. He rushes out while the little girl tests the bottle's milk on her wrist. She seems satisfied with it just as the boy returns, pushing a baby stroller.

The girl reaches into the stroller, pulling out a tiny infant that could be no more than five months old. The child quickly has the baby latching on to the bottle with the ease of someone who's had practice.

"I made us some veggie drinks-" She starts, only to have both boys begin to whine. "-No buts! We need all the vegetables we can get to compensate for our small bodies. Lack of nutrition has played a severe role in us, and now that we've found a safe place to live, I'm going to feed us well."

"You sure you should be stealing from Bruce Wayne? It's not entirely safe to say he'll be understanding if we get caught," The other twin speaks up, sounding alarmingly too old for a five-year-old. Maybe they were older and were just small due to malnourishment, like the girl said?

"It's okay. We're been here a whole month, and no one even suspects. Besides, you know what Clockwork said. He is supposedly our biological father; even if he doesn't want anything to do with us, the least he can do is allow us this empty apartment."

"This is better than the car we lived in," The other child chirps "It even has a TV!"

"It's all old, but it works," The girl agrees with a smile, moving the bottle so the white liquid falls to the front. The baby is still slurping down the meal in soft gulps that can only come from hunger. "I'm grateful for the bathroom. I forgot what it felt like to be this clean. That reminds me, I will do our laundry in the tub later, so bring me all the dirty clothes you have."

Alfred retreats from the door, pressing his hand against his mouth. He needs to speak to Master Bruce. If the girl is wrong, if this Clockwork lied to them, they are still small children living in Wayne Manor for an entire month.

And none have been the wiser.

What if they are Master Bruce's children? What would Master Thomas say if he knew his grandchildren had been left to live on the streets for such prolonged malnourishment had stunned their growth?

Alfred all but runs the second he crosses the Wing doorway, mind whirling. He thinks it madness that has him bursting into Master Bruce's office because, for a second, he could have sworn the sunlight falling through Master Bruce's window was Master Thomas's smiling face.

"Alfred? What's wrong?"

"Sir, I believe we have unknown guests you should meet."

[makeitmingi]

When Mingi Leaves For Tour [Drabble]

pairing: mingi x fem!reader (y/n)

summary: before leaving for the european tour, mingi dropped by to spend some time with you. and despite being used to his busy schedule, the thought of your distance makes you miss him more than you thought.

word count: 2K

story warning(s): kissing, cuddling, soft affection

a/n: don't ask me why but i just had this dream for 2 consecutive nights and wanted to write it. also this is my 1,200th post!

*ding dong*

Mingi stood outside your door, hearing your mother's voice from inside the house. He rocked on his heels, trying to control the excitement of seeing you. When your mother opened the door, she smiled when she saw Mingi.

"Omonim." He greeted with a smile and hugged her. Your mother chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, patting his back.

"Aigo, what are you doing here? (y/n) said you were flying off today. Shouldn't you be packing?" She asked as she guided him into the house after he removed his shoes.

"I am but I packed early so I could come by and stay with her for a bit. Hello abonim." Mingi bowed to your father.

"Hello, Mingi ah. Thank you for dropping by to see her." Your father came to shake Mingi's hand.

"No need to thank. Please, don't let me interrupt your work." He gestured after shaking his hand, knowing your father mostly works from home now.

"She's in right?" Mingi blinked, making your parents laugh.

"Yeah, she is. I think she just finished a project meeting. She's trying her best to hold it together." Your father said with a soft smile.

"Don't say that, you'll make him feel bad. Ignore him, Mingi ah." Your mother waved your father off. But Mingi knew what your father meant, you were trying to act excited for Mingi to go on tour but in fact, you were sad to say goodbye to him. And your father was always very protective of you.

"Mom? Who was at the door? Was it my package?" Just then, your parents and Mingi heard your voice from your room. He heard your house slippers shuffle against the floor.

"M-Mingi?" You blinked, as if to check if you were dreaming or not. Mingi smiled and headed to you, engulfing you in a hug.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the airport or something?" You asked.

"I did all that early so I could come see you. Now, can you hug me back, please?" Mingi requested. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his middle.

"Come." You held his hand and pulled him to your room, feeling a little awkward with your parents there.

"So, what did my dad tell you?" You glared.

"Nothing, baby. I swear." He held his hands up. You love your dad and you know he has your best interests at heart but he reveals things to Mingi about you and your feelings, which you don't feel like sharing sometimes. Plus, he always exaggerates.

"I wanted to spend time with you before I have to go to the airport. Manager-nim is picking me up later." He smiled softly, sitting on your bed. You smiled softly and stood between his legs.

"Thank you." You put your arms around his neck.

"Don't thank me. I did this for me. I don't like being away from you." He sighed, putting his head against your chest.

"Me too. But you gotta do what you gotta do, which is make Atiny happy." You said. Mingi held your waist and carefully laid back you were draped over his body.

"I wish I could take you with me." He turned you to your side so he could hug you.

"Me too. But I don't want you to pay for my plane ticket." You buried your face in his chest. Mingi kissed the top of your head.

"Can't I fly you out to one show?" He asked.

"Mingi..." You lifted your head gave him a conflicted look. When you started dating, one of the first things you told Mingi was that you didn't want him to pay for everything.

"I know, I know. I was just offering in case you changed your mind." He pouted, pulling you close to him. You and Mingi just cuddled in silence, enjoying each other's presence and the peacefulness. To you and your family, he was Song Mingi, your boyfriend. He wasn't Song Mingi, fierce and flirty rapper of Ateez.

"Oh, right. I have a present for you." Mingi temporarily pulled away and left your room to grab the bag he had left in the living room.

"A present?" You sat up. Mingi hummed and dug through his bag, taking a stuffed giraffe out of his bag. He didn't miss the way your eyes lit up like an excited kid.

"A giraffe!" You squealed at the sight of your favourite animal. (Toy)

"It's me." Mingi came to sit on the bed, tugging at the customised 'Fix On' hoodie and black glasses on the giraffe.

"It'll keep you company whenever I'm not around. I wanted to get you a Bbyeongming but you already have 2 so I thought this was different." He said.

"I only have 2 because you wanted me to have more Bbyeongming than the others." You scoffed.

When Aniteez came out, the boys got you the whole set of all 8 characters. But Mingi, being competitive in his own way, bought you an extra Bbyeongming so it looks like you 'love' Bbyeongming more than the others.

"But I love him. Thank you, Mingi." You leaned to give him a peck but Mingi surprised you by cupping your cheeks and holding you there so he could kiss you longer.

"Ah, I really don't want to leave now." He groaned, his face pressing on your shoulder.

"Hongjoong might have an aneurysm if you don't go." You chuckled, stroking his head, fingers toying with the ends of his hair.

"He's so cute and I can't believe you made the hoodie for him. He does look like you but he'll never be you." You giggled, holding up the giraffe to look at it again. Mingi smiled proudly at your words.

"Come, I still want cuddles." Mingi pulled you down so you laid on his chest and his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

"I'll come up with a name for him." You said, hugging the giraffe.

You and Mingi didn't know how much time had passed but it definitely felt too short when you were interrupted by Mingi's alarm ringing, a reminder that he had to get ready to leave.

"I want to follow you down." You said, grabbing a hoodie from your closet and slipping it on. Mingi smiled when he recognised the hoodie as one that was missing from his closet. But he won't call you out on it and tease you, and risk you returning it to him. He wanted you to keep it so it can comfort you when you miss him.

"Wait, you want some snacks? Asian snacks in case you miss home." You asked him.

"Yes! Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen." Your mother stood up from the couch and came over. You opened the pantry door to look at your snacks.

"Here, take this. And these too, the others like them." You said, taking some of the Korean snacks out.

"You don't have to give it to them, baby." Mingi chuckled, leaning against the island.

"I can always buy them again. You guys can eat it when you're there or even on the plane." You smiled, grabbing a bag and putting the snacks in there. You even added some cup noodles.

"Ah, that's enough, baby. Thank you." Mingi blushed as you held out the bag of snacks to take.

"Yeah, we should go. Don't keep the others waiting." You said.

"Oh, yes! I bought these hydration packs. Share it with your members, it's a powder that you just add to water. It's good for your gut too with probiotics." Your mother ran to the kitchen, coming out with a box and giving it to Mingi.

"Omonim, you shouldn't have! But thank you so much." Mingi deeply bowed, holding the box in his hands. You smiled softly, your parents really loved Mingi.

"Take care of yourself, Mingi ah. Stay healthy, make sure you rest enough and eat all your meals." Your mother said.

"Thank you, omonim and abonim." Mingi bowed again as your mother reached up to hug him.

"Have a good tour, son." Your father patted him on the shoulder. With another bow, you and Mingi headed downstairs to the driveway to wait for the manager to come pick him up.

"Have a safe trip, Min. Come back to me, okay?" You said.

"Oh, baby. Of course. I promise I'm not going off to war." He placed the box down so he could hug you.

"I know, I know... I'm just going to miss you." You sighed. Mingi cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up so he could give you a sweet kiss.

"I'll miss you too, baby... so much. But it won't be for long." He stroked your cheeks softly with his thumbs. There was a honk and you both pulled away to see the van pull up. The manager opened the door, revealing Yunho, San and Jongho inside. You bowed and waved to the manager and the members inside.

"Hi, (y/n)~" They waved back enthusiastically. Mingi handed his manager the things to put in the back with all the bags.

"Alright, I gotta go. I love you, baby. Take care of yourself, hmm?" Mingi patted your head. You didn't trust your voice so you just nodded with a small smile.

"Love you too." You squeaked and hugged him. Mingi kissed the crown of your head.

"Bye." You waved, watching him climb into the van. But as the door closed, you turned around, unable to control the feelings anymore.

"Wait, Mingi..." Yunho tapped Mingi's leg, pointing to you, whose back was facing the window. Your shoulders shook slightly, indicating your cries.

"Go. We still have time." The manager said, opening the door.

As you stood there, you were surprised to find a tall body engulf yours from the back. Mingi spun you around, pulling your arm to wrap around him so he could hug you tightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You apologised repeatedly as you grasped the material of his jacket, sobbing softly into his chest.

"Silly girl, there's nothing for you to be sorry about. Hmm? Don't apologise." He whispered, stroking the back of your head to comfort you. You really wanted to pull away and let Mingi go, knowing the manager and the other members were waiting but you couldn't.

"I'll be home before you know it, my love." He said.

"I know. I'll be okay, don't worry. You should go or you'll be late for your flight." You took a deep breath to ground yourself. Mingi didn't want to leave you but he knew he had to.

"I love you. I'll call you every day." He kissed your forehead, wiping your tears away with your sleeve.

"Goodbye." You covered your face in embarrassment and waved as he reluctantly entered the van and closed the door.

"Poor (y/n)." San pouted as the van began to move and you disappeared from Mingi's sight. Yunho wordleslly reached over to hold his best friend's hand.

"She'll be okay." Yunho assured. Mingi let out a hum and nodded.

When the van disappeared, you went back upstairs to your home. Even if your parents noticed that you cried, they didn't mention it.

"He'll be back soon." You told yourself and fell onto your bed, hugging the giraffe to your chest. Everything still smelt like Mingi and you impossibly hoped it would last until he comes back home.

"What-" As you put your hand under the pillow, you noticed something tucked under there. Sitting up, you frowned in confusion as you took out the items. Your eyes widened as you saw a First Class airline ticket to London with Ateez VIP tickets to both London shows and the Manchester show.

'I'll see you soon, my love. x Mingi'

[loveandleases]

What kind of picture of MC (if any) would the ROs have as their wallpaper? And what's MC's number saved as? Rn and later on in a relationship stage?

I remember answering something similar last year, but I can't find the photos from then. So...just gonna do it again.

❤️ Cam - He tends to switch it up. Sometimes he would have a candid of MC that he totally didn't take because he thought they looked good. Or, it's a photo of the two of them. For holidays, it's a holiday photo. Ugly Sweaters for Xmas, a costume for halloween. Then a very random photo of Cam wearing bunny ears in some short shorts for Easter, while MC holds the carrot. (Cam had bet MC and they lost so.) Cam has MC saved under Red, but it can change due to player choice.

But relationship Cam... relationship Cam has a photo that he is so proud to display but his desire to have MC to himself refuses to let him.

It begins just below MC's nose and cuts off at the edge of their waist. A silk sheet lays draped across their body, its delicate texture contrasting with the raw marks he has painted on their skin. Bite marks and hickeys across the parts that are visible. His hand cups their chin gently but possessively, with one finger hooked slightly under their lip, tugging it down just enough to reveal the soft flesh within. MC's lips would be agape, lips swollen and flushed.

💙 G - They claim they don't have a single photo of MC, but they actually have several. Even one from graduation when they were no longer talking. They don't have MC's current number, (yet), but if they did it would be of MC asleep while in the library studying, or curled up in their bed. They would save MC's name as their nickname.

One option for relationship stage G is: "My once and always"

G would use the graduation photo. It was bittersweet because they hadn’t been the one to make MC laugh that day. And they hadn’t stuck around long enough to notice how their expression fell when they looked for them, only to realize G was already gone. No goodbye.

G had taken the photo when no one was looking, back when they thought they’d never have the chance to see them again. Despite their hurt and stubbornness, they’d given in to the desire to remember—to hold onto what MC looked like when their face lit up, the way they could make the world fade away.

G still looked at that photo sometimes, especially on bad days. Especially after running into MC on the street. Because no matter how much they wanted to believe MC hadn’t changed... they had. And knowing they hadn’t been there to witness it, to experience it alongside them, killed a little part of G every time.

💚 Kara - It's an old photo from back when they worked together. Probably taken when Kara dragged MC to a night of drinks after a long day of work. She had talked MC into allowing her to take a photo for social media, but once she saw it she decided against it and kept it for herself. She has MC saved as "Babes or Boss" (That last one is full sarcasm for crushing stage Kara.)

She thought MC looked very free, they didn't have the expectations of work, of their family, or of Chris and their upcoming nuptials. For once they looked like someone who could finally breathe. MC was a different person when they worked, there was a quiet confidence in them back then. Not like now, and no matter how much she doesn't want to think/admit MC lost that bit of themselves after everything with Chris. So, she likes to think of MC from then, hoping to be able to see MC with that spark of confidence once more.

💛 M - They so badly want a photo of MC in a costume. But would settle for any. Relationship stage M would want a couple's photo or a still from one of the photo booths that they talked MC into going in on one of their dates. It looks so casual from an outside perspective, but in actuality M couldn't have been more nervous. They were falling all over themselves and so sure that they ruined the date. Only for a kiss at the end of the night.

Relationship stage M would want a photo of MC holding one of their books. To anyone else it's just a photo, but to M, it's so evocative and it excites them. A heavy lidded gaze full of desire... directed at the person behind the camera. At M.

M would save MC's number under "My Muse".

💜 Isaac - It would be a selfie MC sent them, when Isaac was trying their best not to care. To be as detached as possible, and yet they still saved that photo. It was like the first little sign that Isaac was growing attached, that MC was nothing like their sister. That Isaac had the capacity to care for someone after that. Though Isaac would totally be okay if it was a photo of MC in the back of their car.

Isaac would first save MC under 'not a model', a throwback to when Isaac very much thought otherwise when in Cam's studio. Relationship stage would be "My Anchor"

🖤 Ardent - 100% a photo of MC and Cupid, even before relationship stage. It would likely have been taken one of the many times MC had to bring Cupid back to him after she followed Cam home. (Cam The Cat Stealer Returns!) Now relationship stage, maybe a photo of the three of them. But if Ardent could get one of them and then including his niece... he would be like putty. That photo would be his wallpaper and screensaver. It would have been taken on one of their outings, probably to a fair when MC had to practically beg him to get on the rides. (Ardent will not admit the sound that came out of his mouth in the scare house. Nothing happened!)

I could see Ardent wanting a more sensual photo of MC, arms above their head and his hand holding their wrists. Or... probably his favorite. MC bent over his hand resting between their shoulders and their eyes closed in complete trust. Of course the photo ends before you can see their hips, or the way they're slotted together. There's a softness in MC’s expression, and in Ardent’s memory, the feeling of being in control, yet his emotions were anything but. He might have had a grip of the situation, but he didn't have one on how he felt.

MC is probably saved under "Brat" , "Trouble", or "Kitten".

[newtonsheffield]

I'd like to think that in the Funeral AU Anthony doesn't wallow in grief as much as in other AUs. Of course, it's still hard for him. He is the head of family now, being only 18-year-old. He has to care for his mother and 7 siblings (and family firm?), is still studying and on top of that, he is missing his dad every single day. But he has Kate in his life and their technically-not-dates-coffee-dates. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they just sit in silence. And he finds comfort in her company. He knows she is amazing and probably deserves better than him, but in the end, he is selfish enough to make a move. And miraculously so, she agrees with him.

I think that’s exactly it.

For one thing, he has someone that doesn’t need him to fulfill a role for them, really. Going to pick Kate up from work and going for a drink with her at the pub gives him space to be someone outside the person his family now requires him to be. He can still be Anthony, an eighteen year old guy. With Kate he doesn’t have to be Anthony who’s struggling to fill his father’s shoes. Having that space I think would allow for Anthony to grieve on a healthy way. This is obviously still a loss that he feels deeply and yeah he’s managing his family and making sure his mum’s okay and looking after his siblings’ needs. But being with Kate makes him feel like he can actually breathe. He feels like this is a temporary phase and one day maybe he will wake up and be able to breathe easily.

And she probably does deserve better than a guy who might have to cancel their date because he now has to look after the younger kids but he’s selfish enough that when she shows up at his house with pizza instead and kisses his cheek before she helps him get the kids to sleep he doesn’t tell her to leave. He sits with her tucked against his chest on the sofa when they’re the only two people awake.

“I love you.”

It’s probably too early for him to say it. She’s officially been his girlfriend for a grand total of 7 dates and three weeks but he feels it. And he wants to tell her. Because he’s learned recently that one day he might not be able to tell her, and she should know that he felt it.

Kate nestles closer, her lips against the hollow of his throat. “I know you do. I love you too.”

“I’m going to try to be yours forever.” He doesn’t know if he wants her to hear that but he’s glad when he feels her chuckle against him.

“It’d probably be harder to get away from me, now.”

[razzle-zazzle]

Wait no actually addition to this. Under the cut because I went on for longer than I maybe needed to:

Because in season one episode nine, "The Royal Blacksmiths", because of Cole lying in his letters, Lou thinks that his son is still a Marty Oppenheimer's student. Or, in the case of this theory, believes that the other three are part of quartet Cole picked up outside of Marty Oppenheimer's (but still going along with the lie to humor Cole, which makes Jay's slip kind of lowkey hilarious).

But. Oh my god. Okay so in the leadup to the talent show the boys are going through their routine and get into an argument after Jay and Kai smack into each other. And we get this exchange:

Jay: You're supposed to follow me! Kai: Follow you? You're off the beat by two! Zane: 2.72 off the beat. Cole: Guys, guys! Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be. We just stick to the plan and keep up the charade until the trophy's revealed. Once we steal the Blade Cup, we can argue all we want when we get back home. Jay: But this is your hometown*, Cole! Don't you wanna try and win it? Cole: Ugh. The only dance step I wanna perform is called, "Get Me Out of this Nuthouse and Let's Burn these Memories from my Head."

At which point Lou enters the scene, having overheard the conversation from "once we steal the Blade Cup" at the very latest (could have overheard more, but couldn't have overheard less), which gives us one of the more iconic exchanges in the series:

Lou: What? Cole: Dad! I... Lou: You... you were going to steal it? Cole: Dad, I didn't mean for you to hear that. But I'm glad you did. There's something I've been wanting to tell you. All these years, I haven't been training to be a singer or a dancer. I found something new that I'm really good at! Dad— -Cole spinjitzus to change from his quartet outfit to his ninja clothes- Cole: I'm a ninja. -Lou gasps- Cole, grabbing the Scythe from the case: And the truth is, if we don't steal that Fang Blade— I mean, Blade Cup, there's other people that will. Bad people. Serpentine. And we need it to save the world. Cole: I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I'm proud of who I am. And I want you to be proud of me too. Lou: I can't be proud of any son who thinks stealing is right. And I'm not going to wait around to watch you make a mockery of our family's legacy! Cole: Dad, I—

We all know this scene. The "coming out" scene often used in Cole queercoding compilations. A scene where, in response to Lou hearing something that contradicts the lie Cole's been upholding, Cole immediately uses it as an opportunity to be honest, despite all of his previous adamance against doing that.

And I've pointed it out before, but Lou doesn't say anything about Cole being a ninja in this scene. He's focused on, and mad about, the plan to steal the Blade Cup. There is the "make a mockery of our family's legacy!" line, which at the time of this episode's airing was likely about Cole being a ninja rather than a dancer. But at the time of this episode's airing, Lilly did not exist yet. And her existence and what little we know about her recontextualizes a lot concerning Cole, especially in these early seasons. And given that they reanimated Cole's first meeting with Wu (originally seen in the pilots) in Sons of Garmadon to include reference to Lilly's death, I'd say the recontextualization is important. Suddenly, Lou's line about their family's legacy becomes not a jab at Cole not being a dancer, but instead more fitting as further anger at Cole wanting to steal the Blade Cup. Because Lilly was a ninja. She danced, as seen in Cole's flashback in the "Balance" short from the Elements of Spinjitzu miniseries, but the main show itself (especially Master of the Mountain) goes out of its way to emphasize Lilly as a hero, as a ninja. So being a ninja is part of their family legacy, even if it wasn't at the time of this episode's airing. Thus, given Lou's dialogue in this scene, I can confidently say that he wasn't mad about Cole being a ninja, but about Cole being a thief.

And why does this matter to this weird crack theory about Lou knowing Cole wasn't at Marty Oppenheimer's, you ask? Because, in the context of this theory, Lou only knows that Cole isn't attending Marty Oppenheimer's. That's all he knows. Cole lies in his letters and says he still is, so Lou doesn't know what Cole's doing. He clearly trusts that Cole a) can handle himself and b) will drop the lie to ask for help if he gets in trouble, or else Lou wouldn't be humoring the lie in all his responses. Additionally, Lou probably genuinely believed that Cole had formed a quartet with Jay, Zane, and Kai, even if he knew that Cole wasn't attending Marty Oppenheimer's. He wasn't expecting the "steal the Blade Cup" at all, because he thinks of his son so highly**. But he doesn't have an outward reaction to Cole being a ninja***, or really to the fact that Cole was lying to him at all. All that matters in that moment is that Cole wants to steal the Blade Cup instead of trying to earn it fair and square.

And I just. Lou doesn't say anything about Cole lying to him. This is possibly the most insignificant evidence for my stupid little crack theory that does not matter but also the more I think about this theory and what it means for Lou and Cole's relationship the more I start to explode. ESPECIALLY. LATER IN THE EPISODE. AFTER COLE DOING THE TRIPLE TIGER SASHAY WINS THEM THE CUP (plus Cole going back on the plan to steal it and instead deciding they should use their spinjitzu (tornado of creation specifically) after Lou's disappointment is so.... Cole the character that you are). AND LOU COMES UP AND REVEALS HE SAW THE WHOLE THING.

Zane: I've never felt more alive! Jay: Haha! We did it! Kai: No, Cole did it! Because of you, Ninjago will sleep safely tonight. Cole: Thanks. But... go on and celebrate without me. Winning this just doesn't feel the same without my dad being able to— Lou, entering the scene: Cole! Cole: Dad? Lou: I saw it all, son. I saw it all. -Cole and Lou hug- Cole: You saw me dance? Lou: More importantly, I saw you fight. Those Serpentine were up to no good, trying to steal the show, and I saw you stand up for what is right! Lou: I was wrong. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard to follow in my footsteps.

"I saw you stand up for what is right!" Sound familiar? Maybe like... LILLY'S LINE IN THE FLASHBACK IN MASTER OF THE MOUNTAIN'S TENTH EPISODE, "Promise me you'll always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust."????? HOW COLE ENDS UP FOLLOWING LILLY'S LEGACY AS A NINJA AND HOW WHEN LOU IS AFFIRMING THAT HE SUPPORTS IT HE ECHOES LILLY'S STATEMENT. I'M GOING INSANE

tl;dr yeah i just really really wanted to talk about "The Royal Blacksmiths" again and also point out small and meaningless evidence that supports the crack theory I just made up. here are the asterisk notes:

*Fun Fact: Marty Oppenheimer's is in Ninjago City! Cole literally states this in the episode. Another Fun Fact! Based on the exterior shot that we see before the scene of the boys warming up for the talent show, either there's a city to rival Ninjago City or Ninjago City is Cole's hometown. Which... If Marty Oppenheimer's is in Ninjago City, and that's also where Lou lives.... did he seriously never try to visit Cole????? Like once??? Further evidence that he knew Cole wasn't actually attending the school ig

**If you think Lou doesn't like Cole then you are not watching LEGO Ninjago. There is literally no onscreen interaction they have that even implies Lou hates or dislikes Cole. Yes there is the doorbell scene in "The Royal Blacksmiths" which could maybe give off that impression but like. Your honor Lou loves his son and will never not be proud of him. He wouldn't have been so disappointed over Cole's plan to steal the Blade Cup if he didn't care about Cole. PLUS HE DID END UP STICKING AROUND TO SEE COLE ONSTAGE SO EVEN DISAPPOINTED LOU STILL CARES ABOUT HIS SON.

***Maybe if it weren't for the theft thing Lou would have been angry about the ninja thing. But like. Genuinely. Given everything we know about Lilly. You cannot convince me that Lou would have been that upset at Cole for choosing to be a ninja instead of a dancer. You cannot.

In giggling at this he was there for TWO DAYS?? ONLY TWO? Not even a full week and he was already running away im weak

[lostintransist]

The Boys' Home | Part 5

Part 1 | AO3

The suit, respirator, goggles, gloves combo had you sweating like the devil in church. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, except your in-ear headphones were overheating and not responding to your taps to change the song. Somehow you had been stuck on the same song for damn near forty minutes. It was a good song, don’t get it twisted, but if it didn’t require leaving the house and pulling off all the gear to change the song you would have done it on the third repeat.

With the last of the lathe and plaster removed and swept from the room, you detach the chute from the window. Carefully you strip off the protective gear, clothes soaked with sweat beneath them. The next thing you do is pull your headphones out and pause your music. Sliding between the layers of plastic keeping the dust from invading the house you make your way outside to breathe fresh air.

The boys were all at Lydia Fisher’s house as her grandchildren had finally arrived for the summer stay. You had already confirmed with Lydia that the pizza delivery you were paying for would arrive at five and she would send the boys home at seven. They would absolutely all need a bath before bed.

When you open the front door all of your focus is on laying out the gear to dry over the porch railing. The respirator and the goggles go down easily, the suit gives a wet sound when you snap it to straighten out all the wrinkles. That done you look up and nearly have a heart attack.

“Jesus and a chicken!” Your hand ends up on your chest as you heave in breaths.

Where you had expected empty space stood three of your neighbors, all watching you with various expressions of quandary.

“Why a chicken?” Kyle asked as he shoved one hand into his pocket.

Your brows pull together. “I don’t know, that is what came out of my mouth in a moment of shock.”

He gives a look of acknowledgment and glances at his counterparts.

“Did you guys need something? I’ve been upstairs stripping a bedroom to get insulation and new walls put up.” You brush your hands down your shirt, now quite aware that even in the moist heat your pits, under boob, and groin had yet to dry.

“Wanted to see if there were any neighborhood events we should be aware of,” Johnny spoke up, moseying up to the porch railing and hanging over it to talk to you.

You leaned against the main post, folding your arms as you thought.

“Nothing formal, but every third weekend a few families get together over at my place and we grill and let the kids run wild.” You direct your answers to the group but look mostly at Johnny.

Simon and Kyle step closer, like wolves you had watched on nature documentaries. When they close in you snap your gaze to Kyle and then to Simon. It gets trapped on Simon, the dark pitch of his eyes pulling you in like tar that swallowed ice-age animals whole.

“You need anything, bonnie?”

The hum of question you give is distracted. Turning your face away from Simon, it takes extra effort to drag your gaze to Johnny. Blinking a few times to clear your mind you process what you heard.

“Mmm, don’t think so. Unless you guys can sheet rock and mud a bedroom in under a day?”

Johnny grinned and Kyle chuckled, Simon let out a small huff that could be construed as a laugh.

“Can’t say we know how yet, but we will by the time we are done fixing up our own house,” Kyle smirks up at you.

“Been meaning to ask you about that. Are you all together or just really good friends?” They share a look and you go on, bulldozing past any awkwardness creeping up your body like kudzu. “I only ask because folks around here will talk and if I can head off the rumors your time here will be easier. Lord only knows why I’m their favorite subject.”

“Na, we work together. Military stuff and we find it easier to feel safe when we know there is someone who can watch our back as we rest,” Johnny gives a small smile to the gaps between the porch slats.

Nodding as if you understand, you most assuredly do not, you tuck that information away for your next run-in with any of the town gossips, Cherrie and Marline. They would be after you like hens after a chick when they found out you were now living next door two four presumably eligible, and decidedly, attractive bachelors.

‘What about your everlasting soul? Living so close to such men might tempt you into sin.’ They would always whisper the word sin as if one woman’s boy hadn’t been born out of wedlock and the other hadn’t been caught having an affair ten years back. One of these days you would remind the two of them of what Jesus actually called a sin, and it wasn’t ‘treating your neighbor as yourself’.

“Where are your boys today?” Simon speaks up now, everyone turning to look at him as he stares straight at you.

“They are at the Fisher’s. Lydia’s grandchildren have arrived and we have a standing agreement to timeshare the children until school starts back up,” you grin wide thinking about your boys. “I don’t know if you’ve met them yet, they live in the opposite direction from my house.”

Your former pastor had commented on it once. You didn’t go to church anymore, for too many damn reasons to recall or recount but Pastor Harry had been a good man and reminded you that there were people in the world who practiced what they preached.

“I know you never wanted to be a mom, but those boys? I can see the love you have for them written all over your face when you talk about them. I’m real proud of you for taking them in and fighting for them,” he laid a hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

The quiet comfort and confidence Pastor Harry had given you that day had fueled you for weeks and helped you swat away the nastier comments lobbed your way from parents of your students, the administration, and even the cashier at the local stop and rob.

Looking back to the men standing in the heat of the day you make a decision.

“Why don’t y’all take a seat and I’ll grab us all some sweet tea and ice pops.” Turning around without waiting for an answer you let the screen door slam shut behind you.

When you return the only seat available is next to Simon on the porch swing. Passing each man a refreshment you settle into the cushion and try to toe the swing into motion. When nothing happens you glance at Simon who is staring at your nice glass with something akin to mistrust in his eyes.

“You don’t have to drink it but can you at least lift your feet so I can rock the swing?” The single brow lift seems to do the trick.

“This is delicious!” Johnny cries as he stares down at his glass. “Never got the appeal of hot tea but this? I will miss this when we go back to work.”

The swing begins a soft back-and-forth movement. Glancing down you see Simon’s boot flat on the porch; his thigh bunches and releases in time with the movement.

“What do you think Kyle?” Sipping at your own tea you watch him for an answer.

“Might need this recipe for my mum, to be frank.” He looks down at his glass with a mixture of pleased concern written across his face.

“Be happy to send you with a recipe card.” You can’t wipe the smile from your face. Your front porch didn’t get as much use as you would like, they were the first visitors to use it this year.

Kyle and Johnny chat with you for nearly a half hour before by the winding down of the conversation the men stand in tandem. They all trail into the house to deposit their glasses in the sink before saying their goodbyes and rounding the house for the trail that would lead them back to their own home.

Placing your cup in the sink next to theirs you are surprised to see three empty glasses and a bone-dry sink. Seems the quiet man had sipped at his drink after all.

You would need to be sure to offer it again. Best to be sure if he liked it or if his mother had taught him it would be rude to reject an offer of a refreshment. Neither said anything bad about a person but it would help future interactions to know what your neighbors liked.

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @harperstyles @sigynxlokiwifelover @fluffysmiko

[rhyrhy]

You should do basketball Abby/ blue collar Abb (if u want ofc)

OMGG I LOVEE blue collar Abby! She’s so sweetness 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 Ty for the request this was so fun!

Blue collar Abby! Head cannons 💐

MDNI

Blue-collar Abby! who, when she first met you, found anyyy excuse to swing by your workplace. Yes, even if it meant running late elsewhere. just to catch a small glimpse of you. Wondering what outfit you were wearing today or how you styled your hair. She'd literally carve out 15 minutes in her day, hoping this time she'd actually work up the courage to talk to you.

Blue-collar Abby! who isn’t exactly subtle about her crush, flat-out asked for your work schedule to see you outside of your job. When you gave her your number, she left with the biggest grin and pep in her step. Taking mental notes on your jewelry preferences-gold or silver, simple or flashy. Why? Because:

Oh, she’s absolutely going to marry you.

Blue-collar Abby! purposefully rests her hand on the small of your back or your hips when she's scooting past, murmuring a soft "Scuse me, baby." Oh, She knows exactly what she's doing. knowing it drives you nuts and would be thinking about her hand placement for the next 30 minutes. holding back a smile as she goes on about her day.

Blue-collar Abby! Who texts with "😂”completely unironically and uses "😭” when she's actually upset about something. Yeah, At this point, you've just accepted it as her texting language.

Blue-collar Abby! loves being pampered when she allows it. Big spoon? Hell no. She'd much rather feel your chest pressed against her back, her free hand caressing your thigh draped over hers. She'll quietly and rarely vent about work while you listen. Other times she enjoys the quiet of the moment.

Blue-collar Abby! Lets her hair get frizzy or even messes it up on purpose just so you'll redo it for her. She isn't shy about asking, but the first time you offered to fix it, she was immediately hooked. Now she's secretly hoping you'll pick up on it without her saying anything. (Okay, maybe she's a little embarrassed to ask. She's a grown woman, after all.)

Blue-collar Abby! Who absolutely makes you count out loud when she spanks you. If you're not loud enough , or worse, skip a number-she'll restart the count. And no, you don't get a second to catch your breath. Biting her lip at the sight of your underwear around your thighs and slightly damp since you not so secretly grown to like her punishments. The ‘ouch’s’ quickly turn into muffled moans. Feeling your ears burn with slight embarrassment..yet she notices that you keep messing up the numbers.

Blue-collar Abby! is an emotional wreck at the thought of starting a family with you. The second you told her you were ready to find a donor and start trying, she burst into tears. She cupped your face, nodding frantically, whispering promises to rub your feet and dote on you through the entirety of the nine months.

Blue-collar Abby! loveeees lying on your chest, her braid draped over your shoulder as she traces random shapes into your skin. A satisfied sigh escapes her lips as she daydreams about all the years you're going to spend together. She’s so in love.

Blue-collar Abby! who awkwardly scoots into the bathroom while you're brushing your teeth, wrapping her arms around you from behind. As she finally asks "…Redo my hair for me, please?"

——-

We love our sweet girl Abby!

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

The way she laughed and moved around him. It felt so childish. And yet he liked it. It must have been years since he allowed himself to indulge in such antics. Why did she make that so easy?

Though the walk down the corridor was painted with the reality at hand again. Roran truly was the cherished little prince in that family. They spoiled him. Somnus could not even begin to imagine a boy that age not being trained and having faced some minor spats and fights outside safe castle walls already. He had done so at that age. If he recalled currently, it had been the first missions Gilgamesh had taken him on with days travelling from home.

Clearly the farmlands raised their royals differently.

Or maybe that was just a luxury for Roran and Aerith had lived a different reality.

“He teased about me, hm?”, Somnus asked, throwing a knowing sideglance to Aerith. There was a definite undertone. And he knew – after all Somnus was a little brother, too.

There was nothing he could add to her opening up about having him at her side. That was too much of a compliment, he could not repay it properly. SO Somnus kept his mouth shut and head down when they entered the chambers.

The young prince was awake. Sitting at the edge of his bed, along with his mother, who apparently was reading from a book to him. The father stood in the background, warily looking over the scene towards the door – though his expression softened when seeing Aerith, coming to draw her into a hug. Asking how she felt.

Suddenly Somnus felt a little like an intruder. He knew Aerith wanted him here, but still… this was a family. A family that was incredibly close knit.

Bowing his head, Somnus offered the dish again, this time towards the Queen. Now he felt very lucky that Aerith had him carry that one. At least he had a use like this.

“Your Majesty. I brought some baked treats for the young prince – and you all of course. And if you need anything else, just say it, I will make it possible. Rest assured your wing of the palace is secured the best. I saw to that myself.”

Aerith expected him to catch it. She wouldn't have thrown it otherwise. But the warp-reflex was the actual surprise here, her mouth dropped open around a smile as he scoffed and bowed.

She laughed a little at his echoed nickname for her, and her hands clasped behind her back as she continued to watch him. While Somnus side-stepped in a quick and graceful movement, she dipped at her waist in a 'bow' of her own.

"Uh-oh, he's strong and fast!" she commented, falling into step to walk alongside him.

Truthfully, she wanted Somnus to be around her family. If they were right, he was about to be deeply involved with them anyway, and after this morning... well, he had earned a place of respect. He was no longer just the dutiful son acting in his kingdom's best interest. He had gone out of his way to protect the youngest of them.

"Never." she answered with a shake of her head. "Roran has been gifted a golden life, full of warmth and happiness. Today... that world view was shattered."

It was as simple as that. Even if a guard stood to protect him, his eyes had been opened. It didn't mean his safety was absolute. After all, guards were men too, they bled, they fell, even the best of the best could have an unlucky moment.

"I'm hoping your presence might give him a little spark again. Even just a small one. He has been teasing relentlessly about Prince Somnus, and if you're in his room maybe he will feel inspired to pick up that habit again." He had been doing what little brother's did best.

"I don't feel as hopeless, having you at my side. I thought I was failing because I couldn't figure out how to uplift him again. But here you are with a pile of baked treats."

Aerith glanced at him with a quick little pursed-lip smile. She was grateful for the company. Slowing to a stop, she politely knocked on the next chamber door. Roran's room was sandwiched between his parents and his Uncle's, though she doubted he would have a moment alone for weeks to come.

[sosa2imagines]

Hey can I please request a Lloyd x reader where she is his ex-wife but he wants her back? Maybe they have a child together (they're the only people who he is really sweet and soft with, he lights up when he sees them) and idk maybe their child wants them together too? He's trying to find excuses to see her or kiss her and he has their child as a support?

Idk whatever you find interesting or have inspo for ❤️

Thank you for this amazing ask. I hope you like it. Warning- Little angst and fluff.

Your hands tremble slightly as you pack your son's backpack for his weekend with Lloyd. It’s a routine exchange, one you've done countless times since the divorce, but the familiar ache always lingers. 

Sharing custody of Victor is always a bittersweet affair. Every time you see him, the resemblance to his father becomes more and more apparent. His bright eyes and mischievous smile are like a living reminder of what you once had together. Yet, despite the pang in your heart, you push your feelings aside, knowing that this arrangement is for the best.

The doorbell rings, and you exhale deeply before opening it.

Lloyd stands before you, immaculate in his polo shirt and with that same cocky smirk you've come to know all too well. Despite your best efforts, your pulse quickens at the sight of him, a reaction you've tried to suppress but have never been able to completely control.

Damn that moustache! Always been your weakness.

You fix your expression, forcing a neutral smile as you step aside to let him in. You're used to this routine by now, but the sight of him still dredges up a mix of emotions you'd rather keep bottled up.

“Ready for our little guy?” he asks, his voice annoyingly smooth, like melted chocolate. Victor bolts past you, yelling, “Daddy!” as Lloyd scoops him up effortlessly, peppering his son's face with exaggerated kisses that make the boy squeal with laughter.  

When your son was born, Lloyd had named him Victor, saying he's his biggest victory in life.

You force a polite smile, ignoring the way Lloyd's eyes flick to yours, softening. He always looks at you like that, like you're still the most important thing in his world, even after everything.  

After Sierra Six.  

The memory burns like acid. Sierra Six had been your breaking point. Lloyd's obsession with catching the rogue operative consumed him, pulling him deeper into his dangerous world and further away from you. You had begged him to walk away, to prioritize his family, but he couldn’t let it go.  

“You don't understand, Sugar!” he'd said during one of your final arguments, his voice sharp but his eyes pleading. “This isn't just a mission. It's personal.”  

It became personal for you too, when Six's retaliation nearly cost you and Victor your lives. A car bomb meant for Lloyd had detonated outside your home, leaving shards of glass and smoke as a grim reminder of the risk you couldn’t live with anymore. You’d left that night, taking Victor with you, and filed for divorce shortly after.  

“Thanks for packing his stuff…” Lloyd says now, breaking you out of your thoughts. He hesitates, then adds, “You could come with us, you know? We're just going to the park.”  

“That’s your time with him…” you reply, keeping your tone neutral.  

Victor tugs at your sleeve. “But, Mommy, you should come! Daddy says he misses you.”  

Your breath catches, and Lloyd clears his throat, awkwardly running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Victor, buddy, why don't you go grab your soccer ball from the car?”  

Once Victor bounds away, Lloyd steps closer. “He’s not wrong…” he says softly, his gaze holding yours.  

“Lloyd…” You start to protest, but he cuts you off.  

“I know I screwed up. I know I didn’t protect you the way I should have, but I’m trying, Sugar. I’m trying to fix things. For you. For Victor. For us.”  

You cross your arms, a shield against the vulnerability in his voice. “You can’t just say these things and expect everything to magically go back to how it was.”  

“Then let me show you...” he says, taking another step closer. His hand brushes yours, testing waters. “Let me prove it to you.”  

Before you can respond, Victor runs back, his soccer ball in hand. “I got it! Mommy, are you coming with us?”  

Lloyd kneels down, pulling Victor into a side hug. “Tell you what, buddy. Why don’t we see if we can convince Mommy to join us next time, huh?”  

Victor pouts dramatically, his big eyes, the same shade of blue as his father’s turns on you, “Please, Mommy? Daddy says families should stick together.”  

Your heart squeezes at the sight of them, your two boys. Lloyd stands, his eyes never leaving yours, and he leans down just slightly, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.  

“Think about it…” he murmurs, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. It lingers, a promise in its tenderness, and leaves you standing there, your resolve crumbling ever so slightly.  

As they walk away, Victor waves enthusiastically, and Lloyd throws you a smile over his shoulder. It’s cocky and hopeful all at once, like he knows the kiss wasn’t just for show.  

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a way to win you back.  

The weekend passes slowly without Victor. You spend the quiet hours tidying up, trying to distract yourself from the lingering thoughts of Lloyd’s kiss and the words he left unspoken. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop replaying his plea, “Let me prove it to you.”  

On Sunday evening, Lloyd drops Victor off as planned. Your son runs inside, chattering about their adventures at the park, the ice cream truck they chased down, and how Daddy let him drive his tiny remote-controlled car.  

Lloyd lingers at the door.  

“Can I come in for a minute?” he asks. His tone is careful, cautious, as though he’s testing the waters.  

You hesitate, but something about the vulnerability in his expression makes you step aside. “Just for a minute…” you say.  

Victor is already in the living room, playing with his toys, oblivious to the quiet tension between you and his father.  

Lloyd takes a deep breath, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. About things not magically going back to how they were.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re right. They won’t. And they shouldn’t. Because I want things to be better than they were before.”  

You swallow hard, your heart beating faster, “Lloyd, I…”  

“Let me finish, Sugar.” His voice softens, and he steps closer, closing the distance between you. “I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I’m not asking you to forget what I did or the pain I caused. I just… I’m asking for a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m trying to be the man you and Victor deserve.”  

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. “You think one kiss and a few sweet words will fix everything?”  

“No!” he says firmly. “But I think being here, every day, showing you how much I care… that might. I’m not giving up on us, Sugar. Not now, not ever.”  

Before you can respond, Victor runs up to the two of you, holding a drawing in his little hands. “Look! I made this at Daddy’s house!”  

The picture is messy but a clear stick-figure family of three, all holding hands. Above it, in Victor’s uneven handwriting, are the words, “My family.”

Your chest tightens, and you glance at Lloyd, whose eyes are filled with unshed tears. He kneels down to Victor’s level, gently ruffling his hair. “That’s a beautiful drawing, buddy.”  

Victor grins and turns to you. “Mommy, don’t you think we should be a family again? Daddy’s been so sad without you.”  

You look down at your son, then at Lloyd, who is watching you with a mixture of hope and fear.  

“I don’t know, Victor,” you say softly. “It’s… complicated.”  

“But you love Daddy, right?” Victor asks innocently, his big blue eyes staring up at you.  

You hesitate, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. “Yes…” you finally admit. “I do.”  

Lloyd stands, his expression unreadable. “Sugar, I know I’ve made mistakes. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for them if you’ll let me.”  

Victor tugs on your hand, his face lighting up with excitement. “Please, Mommy? Let Daddy stay.”  

The weight of the moment presses down on you. Slowly, you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. Let’s see where this goes.”  

Lloyd’s eyes widen in surprise, and then a rare, genuine smile spreads across his face. “You mean it?”  

“Yes,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you’re on thin ice, Hansen.”  

He chuckles, his confidence returning. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Sugar.”  

Victor cheers, throwing his arms around both of you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope.  

Maybe, just maybe, you can be a family again.  

The days that follow are a whirlwind of emotions. Lloyd takes your cautious ‘okay’ as a challenge to prove himself, and he doesn’t waste any time.  

He starts small, picking Victor up from school, helping him with homework, and showing up at your door with dinner. Each time he’s around, you find yourself torn between wanting to push him away and feeling your walls crumble a little more.  

One evening, as you’re washing dishes, Lloyd appears beside you, drying a plate you hadn’t asked him to touch. “You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “we make a pretty good team.”  

“Lloyd, I don’t need your help.” you say, trying to focus on the sink.  

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You might not need it, but I like being here. With you.”  

Your face heats up, and you elbow him gently. “Back off, Hansen.”  

But instead of retreating, he grins and presses a kiss to your temple, quick and soft. You whirl on him, glaring. “What do you think you’re doing?”  

“Testing my limits,” he replies smugly, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”  

You roll your eyes, but the blush on your cheeks betrays you. He notices, of course, and his grin only grows wider.  

Lloyd’s efforts intensifies over the period.

Over the next few weeks, Lloyd becomes a constant presence in your life. He shows up unannounced with groceries, fixes the broken cabinet in your kitchen, and even surprises Victor with a mini soccer goal for the backyard.  

One afternoon, while Victor is napping, you find yourself sitting on the porch with Lloyd. He’s unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on the horizon.  

“Why are you doing all this?” you ask, breaking the silence.  

He looks at you, his expression sincere. “Because I lost you once, Sugar. And I’m not making that mistake again. You and Victor… you’re everything to me.”  

The raw honesty in his voice leaves you speechless. Before you can think of a response, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s giving you a chance to pull away. But you don’t.  

When he deepens the kiss, his hand rests gently on your cheek, you lose yourself for a moment, the familiar warmth of him overwhelming your senses.  

When you finally pull back, your heart is racing. “You’re impossible…” you mutter, your cheeks burning.  

“And you’re beautiful,” he replies, his lips quirking into a lopsided smile. 

Despite your reluctance to admit it, Lloyd’s persistence begins to wear down your defenses. He’s patient with Victor, kind to you, and relentless in his mission to win you back.  

One night, as you’re tucking Victor into bed, he grabs your hand. “Mommy, do you still love Daddy?”  

Caught off guard, you glance at Lloyd, who’s standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.  

“I…” you start, unsure of how to answer.  

“I know you do,” Victor says confidently. “Because you smile more when he’s here.”  

Lloyd chuckles softly, stepping into the room. “Our kid is a great observer, you can’t hide anything from him.” he teases.  

“Go to sleep, Victor…” you say quickly, pressing a kiss to your son’s forehead before retreating to the living room.  

Lloyd follows you, closing the door behind him. “He’s not wrong, you know,” he says quietly.  

You sigh, turning to face him. “Lloyd, this isn’t easy for me. You broke my trust…”  

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it back!” he interrupts, stepping closer. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I’ll fight for you every day if that’s what it takes.”  

Tears well up in your eyes as you finally let the weight of his words sink in. “I’m scared…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.   

“I know,” he whispers, cupping your face in his hands. “But I’m here, Sugar. I’m not going anywhere.”  

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of pancakes. Victor’s laughter echoes from the kitchen, and when you walk in, you see Lloyd standing at the stove, flipping pancakes like he’s been doing it for years.  

“Morning, Sugar,” he says, flashing you a boyish grin. “Thought I’d make breakfast for my family.”  

You shake your head, but there’s no hiding the smile on your face.  

Later that day, as the three of you play soccer in the backyard, Victor pauses and looks up at you. “Does this mean Daddy’s staying forever?”  

You glance at Lloyd, who’s watching you with hopeful eyes. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah, buddy... I think it does.”  

Victor cheers, throwing his arms around both of you. Lloyd pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your hair.  

“I love you…” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.  

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have your happy ending after all. 

 

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[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

PART 12 I LOVE YOU MOM

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she watched her son, Mattia, excitedly explain their latest project to the family. 

“Oh! You look more and more like your mother every day, Mattia,” his grandfather, said warmly, his voice tinged with nostalgia. 

Matheo grinned, clearly loving the compliment. “Thanks, Grandpa.” 

Y/N, sitting at the other end of the table, raised her glass, asking Martin for a refill of wine. He glanced at the letter on the table—a peculiar one with an intricate drawing of what appeared to be a dog and a hastily scribbled "911" in bold letters. 

Before anyone could notice his curiosity, there was a sudden commotion. Matheo, leaned so far forward in his chair that he tipped it over, landing flat on his back with a loud thud. 

The room went silent in shock

“Mattia! Are you okay, baby?” Y/N was by his side in seconds, her face painted with concern. 

Matheo scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off with an awkward smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. I just felt a little dizzy, that’s all. No big deal. Mom, can I go out for a while?” 

Y/N frowned but didn’t push further. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, no,” Matheo replied quickly, his voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “I’ll just step out for a minute. I’ll be fine, promise!” He grabbed his coat and bolted for the door before anyone could ask another question. 

As the door clicked shut, his grandfather narrowed his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “You’re not fooling me, young man.” 

Matheo rushed through the bustling streets until he found a public phone booth. He slipped inside, closed the door, and fumbled with the phone, his heart racing. He quickly dialed the operator. “Um, could I make a collect call to Madrid, Spain?” 

Meanwhile, in Madrid, Mattia paced the length of his room like a tiger in a cage, glancing anxiously at the phone. When it finally rang, he lunged for it so fast he almost tripped. 

“Hello?” he answered breathlessly. 

“Mattia, what’s going on?” Matheo’s voice came through, laced with worry. 

“God, Matheo, I’m about to collapse,” Mattia blurted out. 

“Okay, chill. Just explain.” 

“Dad,” Mattia said dramatically, pausing for effect. “Dad is getting married.” 

Matheo froze, his jaw dropping. “What?!” 

“I’m serious! The suit and gown, the ceremony, everything. It’s happening in two weeks. If we don’t do something now, it’s game over. The only way to stop him is to reunite him with Mom.” 

Matheo leaned his forehead against the glass of the phone booth, guilt bubbling up. He should’ve listened to Mattia earlier. “Alright. I’ll handle Mom. There’s event tonight, and I’ll drop the news on her tomorrow morning.” 

“Please, Theo. This has to work. And hey... good luck.” 

“Yeah, you too. I’ll call you later.” Matheo hung up, took a deep breath, and opened the door to leave, only to bump straight into someone waiting outside. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see—oh… oh…” he stammered, his heart sinking when he realized who it was. 

His grandfather, stood there with his signature knowing smile. “Uh-huh… oh, oh.” 

“This is not what it looks like,” Matheo blurted out, already feeling the walls closing in. 

His grandfather just looped his arm through his as they began to walk down the park path. “Sweetheart, I may be old, but I notice ‘everything’. Now, spill it. What’s this all about?” 

“It’s... it’s a long story,” he mumbled, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. 

His grandfather patted his arm reassuringly. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got all the time in the world.” 

Matheo sighed, realizing there was no escaping him. “Alright, but promise you won’t freak out.” 

“No promises,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

And with that, Matheo began unraveling the tangled web of plans, secrets, and schemes, knowing full well his grandfather was the last person he could ever truly fool. 

*****

Matheo paced nervously, his shoe scuffing the floor as he debated his next move. From the other side of the door, he could hear his mother speaking in rapid French, her voice calm and composed despite the chaos in his chest. Biting his lip, he leaned against the door, just barely cracking it open to peek inside. His mother sat at her desk, phone pressed to her ear, her words flowing effortlessly like music he didn’t understand. 

Behind him, his grandfather, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have all day, gentleman,” he said, his tone both firm and loving.

Matheo glanced up at him, hesitant, but he smiled at him, his eyes full of encouragement. “You can do this,” he whispered. 

Taking a deep breath, Matheo pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. His mother, Y/N, was just finishing her call, something about a new design that she had completed and a delicious carbonara pasta she’d been craving. She glanced up, surprised to see her son standing there, and quickly hung up.   

“Mattia, my baby,” she said, setting the phone down.

But before Matheo could say anything, he froze, his courage faltering. Without a word, he dove under the covers beside his mom, pulling the cover over his head. Y/N blinked, her confusion quickly melting into amusement. 

“Mattia?” Y/N called, moving to sit beside the bundle of blankets that was her son. “What are you doing there?” 

From beneath the covers came a muffled response: “I have to go see Mattia!”

Y/N laughed softly, trying to open the cover. "So, where are you supposed to meet ‘Mattia’ ? Tell me, Mattia?"

“Mattia? Sweetheart?” Y/N called his son, she glancing back at her dad, who stood in the doorway with an amused but knowing look. 

“In Madrid. With his father, Carlos Sainz,” Matheo mumbled, his voice trembling slightly. 

At that, Y/N froze. Her face paled, and she shot a look at her Dad, who simply gave a small nod, urging her to listen. Slowly, Y/N pulled the covers back, revealing Matheo’s nervous face. 

“You’re not Mattia, are you?” she asked softly, her voice wavering. 

Matheo shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “No,” he whispered. 

Y/N heart clenched as the truth began to dawn on her. Her hand reached out, brushing a stray soft hair from his forehead as her eyes filled with emotion. 

“You’re Matheo,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “My Matheo.”

Matheo nodded again, this time letting the tears spill over. “Mattia and I met at camp,” he began, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We figured everything out, about you and Dad, and we decided to switch places. I just... I wanted to meet you so badly. And Mattia wanted to meet Dad. I’m so sorry, Mom. Please don’t be mad. I love you so much, and I just... I just hope someday you’ll love me for me, not because you think I’m Mattia.”

Y/N breath hitched, and she pulled her son into her arms, holding him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. “Oh, my baby,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you your whole life. Always. With all my heart.”     

From the doorway, his grandfather dabbed at his eyes with a tissue, muttering something about how dusty the room had gotten. Meanwhile, Martin, their family butler, stood openly sobbing, his dramatic cries echoing down the hall. The grandfather rolled his eyes and gently shut the door to give Y/N and Matheo some privacy. 

Matheo pulled back slightly, looking up at his mother with a hopeful expression. “Does this mean we have to switch back now?” 

Y/N let out a soft, bittersweet laugh, brushing away her own tears. “Technically, you belong to your dad, and Mattia belongs to me,” she said. “It’s... complicated.” 

Matheo frowned, his nose scrunching up. “I don’t like this arrangement,” he said firmly. “It’s horrible.” 

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with affection for her bold little boy. “You’re right,” she admitted. “It is horrible.” 

“Then let’s go to Madrid,” Matheo said decisively, his small hands gripping hers. “We can talk to Dad and figure this out together.” 

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the thought of seeing Carlos again making her heart tighten. But when she looked into Matheo’s eyes, so full of determination and love, she knew there was no other option. 

“That’s what we’ll do,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll take care of everything.”

The two hugged each other again. Matheo sighed, feeling free from all the weight of the lie he had kept, while Y/N only thought “Oh God I have to see Carlos Sainz again. I'll be struck by lightning right now.”

prev chap

[bee-tone]

The more I think about it, the more the Kitakami siblings experiences kind of read like mixed-race kids who didn't have the opportunity to embrace both of their cultures in a healthy way.

Like, Carmine is very aggressive towards "outsiders" and while some of the other NPCs do refer to you as an outsider, they aren't as hostile. Mostly just offering you a battle and then being disappointed that they lost to a tourist. But there are even NPCs who comment that Carmine's behavior goes above and beyond. The caretaker especially:

"I hardly know what to do with the two of them... Especially that Carmine. Always been a handful, that one. I apologize if she gave you a hard time." (Taken directly from Bulbapedia)

Like, it feels like she's almost trying too hard to fit into Kitakami, like she's overcompensating for the fact that she isn't 100% Kitakamian.

Especially when you consider the fact that she immediately wants to defend Ogerpon once she hears that it was bullied, despite Ogerpon also technically being an outsider. And by the end of the Teal Mask, she's still high-strung, but not nearly as aggressive as before. While it could just be her learning to be nicer to people, it may also be a final thing of self-acceptance?

Kieran, on the other hand feels like he's on the other end of the spectrum. He doesn't have any real gripe with outsiders, and is confused when Carmine acts aggressive. He seems to be a bit of a loner, referring to the player as his first friend, but he's not really isolated from the rest of Mossui Town. A few NPCs talk about him in a positive light (first one that comes to mind is an NPC who says "I heard someone befriended Ogerpon! I bet it was Kieran") and even during the Teal Mask, when he tells the other villagers about the true story, he's believed pretty easily, which wouldn't have happened if he's as much of a loner as he makes himself out to be.

If anything, it feels like Kieran is almost self-isolating himself from Kitakami's culture. Even before Ogerpon is known to be the good guy, he talks about how he wants to be the ogre's friend, and how he feels connected to it, being an outcast. He identifies more with the half that isn't from Kitakami, but given that he has no way to embrace that, he just goes against the culture that's present.

There's also his accent. When I was replaying TM, I noticed that Kieran's accent wasn't as prevalent as I thought it was? But going through the whole story, plus ID and MM, I realized that he was a mild accent in the Teal Mask, no accent during the Indigo Disk, and then a much heavier accent during Mochi Mayhem and the subsequent League Club room visits (at least in the English version, no idea how that works in the original Japanese.) Like he's finally embraced the part of him that's from Kitakami, instead of trying so hard not to be.

Idk. I'm whiter than a piece of paper, so most of what I'm talking about just comes from my experiences with my mixed-race friends and family. If anyone is mixed and wants to add on to or shut me up, please do so!! I'm simply an observer.

[atsro-slut]

I'm in a comfort fic mood, and I was thinking about reader x James, with reader being anxious/feeling guilty about all the financial stuff that comes with Christmas? Like her feeling guilty about all the money James spends on her - and their money that they spend on presents? I'd love that, thank you lovely! 🥰

The Cost of Christmas

So I def should've done this before the holidays but yk...

James Potter x Female!reader

Y/N's anxiety about the cost of Christmas gifts gets the best of her, but when James reminds her that love is the greatest gift of all, the holiday season suddenly feels a whole lot lighter.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The air at Hogwarts was growing colder by the day, and the snow that fell in delicate flakes outside the windows of the Gryffindor common room painted the world in a blanket of white. Christmas was just around the corner, and though the festive atmosphere was ever-present, Y/N couldn’t shake the knot of unease growing in her stomach.

Everywhere she looked, students were preparing for the holiday season. Some were busy decorating the common room with glittering lights, while others talked excitedly about the presents they’d already bought or were planning to give. Y/N watched it all from her seat near the fireplace, feeling like an outsider to the merriment. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Christmas—she did. It was just that, this year, everything felt... different.

James Potter, her boyfriend of nearly a year, sat beside her, his usual energy contagious. He was grinning ear to ear, bouncing with excitement for the upcoming holiday. The bright lights from the tree reflected off his glasses, making his eyes sparkle with uncontainable joy. He was making a list of ideas for presents, talking animatedly about his plans for the holidays.

Y/N smiled faintly, but the anxiety gnawing at her chest only seemed to grow as he continued. She’d been hearing the same kind of talk for weeks—about the grand gifts he was getting for everyone, including her. But as much as she loved him, every time he mentioned spending money on her, her stomach twisted.

She tried to focus on his words, but all she could think about was the way his pockets were always so full—of galleons, sickles, and knuts. James came from a wealthy family, and money seemed to flow effortlessly through his hands. It made Y/N feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t rich like he was. Her parents worked hard, but they weren’t well-off. She wasn’t used to lavish gifts, and she certainly wasn’t used to someone like James spending so much on her.

She shifted in her seat, trying to hide the worry that had been steadily growing inside her. She didn’t want to burden him with her concerns, but it felt wrong to accept his generosity so easily. It felt like she was taking advantage of him, and that thought alone made her stomach churn.

“You okay, Y/N?” James’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked up to find him watching her, his brow furrowed in concern. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

She blinked, startled. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just... thinking about everything.” She gave him a weak smile, hoping it would reassure him.

James didn’t seem convinced. “You sure? You’ve been looking a little off since I started talking about presents.” He leaned closer, his expression softening. “You know you don’t have to worry about anything, right?”

Y/N forced herself to nod, though the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. She didn’t want to ruin the holiday spirit, especially not with James, who was so full of joy. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful or spoil his excitement.

“I know,” she said quietly, though it didn’t feel like the truth. “I just... I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend so much on me. You already do enough, James.”

James raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering for a second. “What are you talking about?” He shook his head, a little confused. “It’s Christmas, Y/N. It’s supposed to be about giving, not about worrying.”

She swallowed, guilt making her voice tremble. “I know, but... it’s just a lot. You’ve already spent so much on me before, and now with Christmas... I don’t know, I just feel bad.” Her words were tumbling out before she could stop them. “My family doesn’t have as much money as yours. I’m not used to... to all of this. I don’t want you to think I’m just accepting everything because I don’t care about how much it costs.”

James’s face softened, and he reached out to gently take her hand. “Y/N, look at me.” His tone was serious now, and there was no teasing, no playful gleam in his eyes. “I want to give you things. I want to spoil you. I love you, and that’s what you do for the people you love.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Don’t you ever think that I’m doing this because I feel like I have to. I’m doing it because I want to.”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the heat of tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t know why this was making her feel so guilty. It wasn’t like James had ever pressured her into anything, and he’d never made her feel bad about not having as much money as he did. Still, the disparity between their financial situations hung over her, unspoken but ever-present.

James noticed her discomfort, and his thumb traced small circles over the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. “Hey, no need to feel guilty. I promise you, you’re not a burden. I love giving you presents—it makes me happy to see you smile. I don’t care about the cost. It’s about the thought behind it.”

Y/N shook her head, still feeling conflicted. “But I do care. I don’t want you to spend all that money on me when you don’t have to.”

“Y/N...” James’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re worth it. Don’t let your own insecurities get in the way of this. I love you. That’s all that matters to me.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill. “But it’s not just about presents, James,” she whispered, feeling the weight of everything she hadn’t said until now. “I feel like I’m always taking from you. I don’t have the money to spend on you like you do on me. It makes me feel... less. Like I’m not doing enough for you.”

James’s face softened even more, and for a moment, Y/N could see the seriousness of his affection for her in the way his eyes softened. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “Y/N, that’s not how this works. I don’t want you to spend a single galleon on me if it makes you feel bad. It’s not about that. What I want from you is... you. Your time. Your love. Your presence. That’s all I need.”

Y/N leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his arms wrap around her, the tension in her chest slowly melting away. She inhaled the scent of him, a comforting mixture of the outdoors and something uniquely James. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of you,” she mumbled against his chest.

James chuckled softly, a gentle sound that rumbled through his chest. “I promise you, you’re not. You don’t have to buy me anything. All I need is you by my side. That’s the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her heart swelling with affection. “I know I can’t give you everything you give me, but I want you to know I care just as much.”

James grinned, reaching up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to give me anything, Y/N. You already do. You’re my everything, and that’s enough for me.”

She smiled, feeling lighter than she had in days. The weight of guilt that had been pressing on her chest was finally starting to lift. Christmas wasn’t about money, she realized. It was about love, about spending time with the people who mattered most. And James, despite his wealth and his desire to spoil her, understood that better than anyone.

“Okay,” she whispered, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll try not to worry so much.”

James kissed her forehead, pulling her closer once more. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

As the fire crackled softly in the background and the snow continued to fall outside, Y/N knew that no amount of money could ever replace what they had together. Christmas wasn’t about expensive gifts or lavish gestures—it was about love, and she had more than enough of that with James.

And that, she realized, was all she needed.

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 60

"she's just... amazing, you know?"

nico chuckled, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back in his seat. he and jack had managed to steal the seats by the only table on the bus to the second game of their newest road trip. while most of the team caught up on some sleep, the two friends were engrossed in a round of gin rummy – one jack was losing by quite a lot. "you keep telling me that," the captain said, placing a king down on the table. "so does anna. i haven't met her, but it feels like i know everything about her already."

jack laughed along with this, picking up a new card from the pile. "i'm going to bring her along so you can meet her someday, and you'll see."

"to the christmas family skate, maybe?"

the younger of the men pressed his lips into a line, head tilting to the side as he looked up from his cards. "not sure about that, it's still a little early," he said.

"early? you've been going out for months, and it's still early?" nico shook his head. "you two see each other all the time, and it's still early. whenever i ask if you want to do something, it's always, no i have a date, or something."

"you're exaggerating."

the swiss sighed, shaking his head. "what's the deal with that, anyway?" he asked. "why won't you bring her along? are you ashamed of her?"

"of course not." jack gazed over his cards for a long time, pretending to think about which card to place instead of formulating his next sentence. "it's just… complicated. difficult. she's not the type to want to be paraded around the arena like a puck bunny or whatever." he finally placed a queen on top of the discard pile, reaching over to grab his water bottle from his bag and take a sip.

"sure. but showing her off and just taking her to one game is different, no?" nico countered, grabbing the queen jack had just placed, and dropping it down in front of him along with two other queens.

the younger groaned at his actions, shaking his head. "how is that even possible?!" he exclaimed, before letting out a deep sigh and returning to the former subject. "i guess… i don't really know where we stand. like, we see each other all the time, but…"

"man, i heard she's got some serious commitment issues, but if it's this bad…"

jack's ears perked up at this. "you heard what? did anna say something?"

nico thought for a moment before placing his cards face-down on the table and sighing. "i don't know how true this is – anna told me that jenny told it to her, but you know girls." jack nodded slowly, so he kept on talking. "there's… some stuff in her past, apparently. her parents' relationship wasn't too good, and one of her exes… man, i shouldn't say anything because i don't really know, so you should ask her yourself."

jack tried his best not to react, to make it seem like he in fact knew everything his captain was talking about. he nodded slowly, a soft "yeah, you're right" slipping from his lips. on the outside, he looked calm as a ???

but on the inside? completely freaking out. your parents? your ex? jack thought he had finally managed to reach deeper into you, that he had finally gotten you to open up. you were much more honest with him, and he was sure that you two were on the right track, even if you moved slowly. but you had never as much as hinted to anything in your past affecting you the way nico was insinuating.

he felt a little dumb, though, that he hadn't realized sooner. of course there was something deeper going on that he had no idea about. but oh how badly he wished you were comfortable enough to tell him about it, instead of him having to hear about it from his friend. who heard it from his fiancée, who heard it from your friend, who heard it from you. four degrees of separation were three too many.

as if sensing that jack needed a break from his own thoughts, nico placed his final two card onto the table, leaving jack with about fifty points worth of deadwood. the boy slammed his head onto the table as he let nico collect all of the cards, a string of curses falling from his lips.

sure, his mind was now occupied, but at what cost?

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 4: Choices

word count: 2,943

The streets of Seoul felt endless as Y/N walked home, the familiar clamor of the city around her not quite reaching her ears. The money in her pocket seemed out of place, its weight both comforting and unsettling. She hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t sought it out, but now it was hers, a reminder of the strange encounter that had just taken place. She could still feel the man with the briefcase his cool, practiced smile lingering in her thoughts. The way his words hung in the air like a lingering note, a question she couldn’t answer yet. There were more games. More chances. The card.

It all felt like an out-of-body experience, something disconnected from her reality, like she was observing herself from the outside. She was tired—tired in a way she couldn’t explain. But beneath that exhaustion, a creeping curiosity began to take root. The salesman had said there were more games to be played. More money to be earned. And, for a moment, she wondered if she could get out from under the weight of her father’s illness by doing something—anything—that didn’t feel like waiting for the inevitable.

She entered her apartment, the door creaking closed behind her. The space was dim, but familiar, a reflection of her life before everything had begun to change. She dropped her purse on the table and walked to the window, staring out at the city skyline. The lights twinkled in the distance, a chaotic sea of life that felt so far removed from her current existence. She should be with her mother, with her father. She should be with her family, comforting them. But somehow, she had found herself on a different path, one that she couldn’t quite turn away from.

Her fingers instinctively reached into her bag and pulled out the card. She stared at it again, the numbers written in unassuming black ink. There was no name, no company, and no address. And a circle, square and triangle on the front of it. Just a number, on the back of the card - a line that separated her from something else, something she couldn’t define. It wasn’t just a business card. It was an invitation to something. But to what?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, the name flashing across it: Jiwoo.

Y/N hesitated before answering. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her friend; it was just that talking about her father, about everything that had happened, felt like too much to bear right now. Her voice, thick with emotion, would give it all away, and Jiwoo wasn’t the type to let her hide. She wasn’t sure she wanted that.

She pressed the green button, taking a slow breath before putting the phone to her ear.

“Hey,” Jiwoo’s voice sounded on the other end, gentle but with an edge of concern. “You haven’t replied to my messages all day. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied automatically, but the words felt hollow even as they left her lips.

“You’re not fine,” Jiwoo said, her voice firm. “I know you. You’re avoiding me. I get that you don’t want to talk, but I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Y/N bit her lip, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to tell Jiwoo. She couldn’t find the words to explain the suffocating grief, the helplessness of watching her father deteriorate in front of her eyes. “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she admitted quietly. “Everything is… falling apart.”

“I’m here, okay? No matter what. If you want to talk, if you want to cry, I’m here.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she whispered.

There was a brief pause, then Jiwoo spoke again, her tone softer. “Do you want me to come over? I’ll bring takeout or something. We could just hang out for a while. Get your mind off things.”

Y/N felt the tightness in her chest loosen just a fraction at the thought of her friend sitting beside her, someone who knew her too well to let her wallow for long. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

They hung up, and Y/N sat in silence, staring at the card again. The weight of the salesman’s words returned to her. More games. More chances. It felt wrong, but somehow, it also felt like an opportunity—an escape from the grief that clung to her, from the helplessness that threatened to swallow her whole. She wasn’t sure what kind of game the salesman was talking about, but it didn’t matter. She was desperate enough to try something.

---

As the hour passed, Y/N made herself presentable, changing into more comfortable clothes, trying to calm the swirling thoughts in her mind. The buzzing of her phone broke her reverie. It was Jiwoo, telling her she had arrived.

Y/N grabbed the card one last time, shoving it back into her bag, and made her way to the door. She opened it to find Jiwoo standing in the hallway, holding bags of food with a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey,” Jiwoo greeted her, her voice quieter than usual. “How are you?”

Y/N smiled weakly. “Better now that you’re here.”

“Good,” Jiwoo said, stepping inside. “I brought all your favorites. I thought you could use a little comfort food.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as she closed the door behind her. She could feel the heavy silence creeping in again. But for now, the presence of her friend was enough. She took the bags from Jiwoo and began unpacking the food as they sat down at the table. The minutes stretched into hours, and the quiet conversation flowed in and out like a steady rhythm, but in the back of Y/N’s mind, the card from the salesman continued to linger.

She knew she should be talking to Jiwoo about her father, about the fear that she was losing him piece by piece. But a part of her couldn’t bear to speak it aloud. Couldn’t bring herself to say the words that she had already said so many times in her head. Instead, she let herself slip into a semblance of normality. The games. The food. The laughter. It was all a temporary distraction, but for tonight, that was enough.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

Y/N looked toward Jiwoo, confusion flickering across her face. “Who could that be?”

Soojin’s voice came from the other side of the door. “It’s me. Let me in before you lock me out!”

Y/N opened the door to find Soojin standing there, looking just as disheveled as the two of them. Her short, dark hair was tousled, and she wore a hoodie that made her look younger than she actually was, but her expression was anything but youthful.

“Of course, you show up now,” Jiwoo said with a grin, stepping aside to let Soojin in. “I’m trying to help Y/N feel better, and here you are, barging in like a tornado.”

Soojin smirked. “Someone’s gotta break up the party. Besides, she’s been avoiding both of us all day. I knew we’d have to come together to drag her out of whatever hole she’s hiding in.”

Y/N chuckled weakly. “I’m not hiding…”

“Right, you’re just being hidden,” Soojin teased. “But seriously, we’ve got food. The three of us together is all the therapy we need right now.”

They all sat down, Jiwoo immediately pulling out the food. Soojin was already rifling through the containers, her usual energy keeping the atmosphere light. But Y/N felt the weight of it all return when she saw the concerned glances exchanged between her friends. They were worried about her, and for good reason.

“Have you eaten today?” Jiwoo asked, eyeing Y/N with a look that was half gentle, half probing.

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N replied, her voice barely audible as she poked at the food in front of her, the sensation of it all—her friends, the conversation—fading in and out like a dream she couldn’t fully grasp.

“Y/N,” Soojin said, her tone turning serious as she leaned forward. “I get it. We know what’s going on. But you’re not alone. We’re all in this together. Don’t shut us out.”

Y/N felt the tears welling up, but she blinked them away, not wanting to crumble in front of them. “I know… I just…” She trailed off, feeling overwhelmed by the thoughts she couldn’t voice.

“Is it your dad?” Soojin asked quietly, her voice soft but filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s chest tighten.

Y/N nodded, blinking quickly to keep her composure. “Yeah. It’s been getting worse. I don’t know how to deal with it anymore. It feels like everything is slipping away, and I’m just… watching.”

There was a long silence as Soojin and Jiwoo exchanged a glance. It was clear they both wanted to help, but the truth was, they couldn’t fix it. They couldn’t change the reality that Y/N was living with.

“I’m scared,” Y/N admitted, her voice a whisper. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless.”

Soojin reached over and placed her hand on Y/N’s. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Y/N smiled weakly, grateful for her friends’ presence. She needed them more than she realized, but the card—the one tucked safely in her bag—still lingered in the back of her mind. It was like an echo she couldn’t shake, the question of what to do with it hanging in the air between them.

The weight of it was becoming unbearable. The idea of walking away, of pretending she hadn’t been offered something, was starting to feel like a lie. She had no idea what the game was. She didn’t know what she’d be walking into if she decided to call the number, but there was something deep inside her that couldn’t quite turn away.

But she was here, with Jiwoo and Soojin. The people who had been with her through everything. It didn’t feel right to even consider it. What if it was dangerous? What if it was a trap?

“Y/N,” Jiwoo’s voice broke through her thoughts, drawing her back to the table. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

Y/N blinked, her gaze flickering from her phone to the half-empty containers of food in front of them. Soojin was laughing at something Jiwoo said, but it all felt far away. The weight of the card was still heavy in her bag, but the familiar, grounding presence of her friends helped pull her back to reality.

“Yeah, just thinking,” Y/N replied, her smile almost convincing.

“About what?” Soojin asked, a sly grin creeping across her face. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Y/N hesitated. Should she tell them? Should she share what had happened with that man? She didn’t know what to think about it, let alone explain it to her friends. It felt so… surreal. How could she even begin?

“Something happened earlier,” she admitted slowly. “I met someone. A man. He gave me money after I won a game.”

Both Jiwoo and Soojin stopped mid-conversation and turned to look at her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

“A game?” Jiwoo asked. “What kind of game?”

“It was just… a game, like the one we used to play when we were kids,” Y/N said, unsure of how to explain it without sounding ridiculous. “Ddakji. He made me play, and I won.”

Soojin raised an eyebrow. “And he gave you money for winning?”

Y/N nodded. “¥100,000. He said there were more games I could play. That I could win more money. But… it felt off, you know? Like, I don’t know, it’s just weird. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“More games?” Jiwoo echoed, leaning in. “That’s… that sounds kind of strange. But also kind of amazing? I mean, who wouldn’t want more money?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “It felt like he was offering something else. Like there was more to it than just the money. But I don’t know what. I don’t know if I should trust it.”

Soojin snorted. “Well, if the guy gave you money, maybe you should trust it a little? Sounds like free money to me.”

“Y/N,” Jiwoo’s voice was serious now, her tone cutting through the casual conversation. “I get that things are tough with your dad, but don’t get too caught up in something that seems too good to be true. We don’t know anything about this guy. What if he’s not… well, a good person?”

Y/N’s fingers twitched, her mind still circling back to the card. There was a part of her that wanted to believe it was just a random encounter, that it didn’t mean anything more than what it appeared to be. But another part of her—the part that felt helpless, that didn’t know how to face what was coming—was starting to wonder what would happen if she called the number. What would she be walking into?

“I don’t know what to do,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re here for you,” Soojin said, her voice warm and sincere. “But don’t go making decisions like that on your own. Whatever’s happening with your dad, we’ll face it together. Just… don’t let someone else take advantage of you in the process.”

Y/N glanced down at her phone again, her fingers brushing over the card tucked inside her bag. The question still gnawed at her: What if this was the chance she was looking for?

“I’ll figure it out,” she said, finally. “I don’t know yet. But thank you. For being here.”

Both of her friends nodded, and the tension in the room seemed to ease just a little, like a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest.

---

The night continued, a semblance of normalcy returning as they finished eating and then shifted into easy chatter. But no matter how hard Y/N tried to push the thoughts aside, they kept creeping back in. The salesman. The card. The promise of more games, more money. It was all too much to ignore.

The following days blurred together, each one feeling like the last, a continuous loop of waiting and wondering. Y/N kept herself busy, helping her mother with her father’s care, finding moments to laugh with Jiwoo and Soojin, trying to act like everything was okay when nothing was. But the nagging feeling of that card remained. Every time her phone buzzed or the doorbell rang, she wondered if that call would come, the one that would change everything.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when she found herself sitting in the living room, scrolling through social media absentmindedly, that the opportunity presented itself.

Her mind wandered back to the day she’d received the card, the salesman’s quiet words echoing in her head. The question kept lingering: What if this was the chance she was looking for?

The decision felt inevitable now, like it was the only option left in a world that seemed to be spiraling. She took the card from her bag, staring at the number printed neatly on the back.

She hesitated for a long moment, feeling the weight of it in her palm. With a shaky breath, she opened her dialer and punched in the number.

The line rang a few times before the phone picked up the person on the other end staying quiet, just waiting for her to speak.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, the card’s weight growing heavier in her hand, "hello?" her voice was shaky and praying to whoever was listening that this wasn't just a scam.

“Your full name and date of birth, please,” came the simple request. The tone was polite, but there was no room for negotiation, no room for hesitation.

Y/N swallowed, her mind reeling. She hadn’t expected it to be this straightforward. But she gave the information anyway—her name, her birthdate. Everything she had to say felt like a small thread unraveling in her chest, but it was too late to pull back now.

There was a brief silence on the other end. For a few seconds, Y/N wondered if the call had disconnected, but then the voice returned, this time with a finality to it.

“Be at the subway station entrance, line 4 at 8pm tomorrow. A car will pick you up.” The voice paused for a beat.

And then, without another word, the line went dead.

Y/N sat there for a long time, staring at the phone in her hand. The conversation had been short, but it felt like her whole world had shifted in that moment. She wasn’t sure if she was scared or relieved, but one thing was certain—there was no turning back now.

She had made her choice.

The card was now just a piece of paper, a mere symbol of what was to come. But the truth was, Y/N felt something stirring inside her—something that had been dormant for far too long. Maybe she didn’t have the answers. Maybe she didn’t know what she was getting into. But maybe—just maybe—this was her way out. The chance to escape the suffocating weight of everything that had been holding her back.

She closed her eyes, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

Tomorrow.

[erenstitanweave]

❥HOW WE LOVE III

pairing: various x reader (vi, caitlyn, vander)

rating: giving/receiving love language headcanons

a/n: so, this is officially a new series! please keep in mind this will be my first time writing for all upcoming characters, respectful criticism and advice on how to write them is welcome! SPOILER ALERT!! reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy!!

VI

giving:

poor vi, her eldest daughter syndrome bleeds through every aspect of her life (relatable but we move on)

all jokes (are we joking though??) aside, i think vi would be hesitant to love quickly or even love at all

vi isn't someone who shows her love through words though, so i feel like if she really began to care and love you, she would show it though her actions

i feel like her main type of acts of service would be protecting you in some manner, whether it be verbally or physically

she's genuinely afraid of losing you, so the protective nature would be slightly overbearing in cases where she's on the edge, but other than that, it's pretty standard.

quality time is another big one for her, not just because it's also a way for her to trust you, but because she'd quite literally just want to get to know you better

i could see this being the case whether or not you live the same type of life (i.e: being a zaunite or not)

i feel like she's seen enough to know that regardless of what side you're on, experiences vary for everyone, and she'd just want to know yours and through that, open up to you

small side tangent, but she's TOUCHY.

once she's attached to you, so are her hands. they quite literally are always on you in some way, whether that be through subtle touches (i.e: letting her hand graze against your side when she walks past you, her hands lingering too long as she's holding you, etc.) or through much more obvious ones like an arm wrapped around your waist

receiving:

although she is a protecter by nature, this causes her to be very wary of people and not very trusting of just anyone

i feel like she wouldn't just prefer acts of service but she would need it in order for her to begin to trust you

acts of service, subconsciously or not, are vital to slowly letting down her walls and letting her become trust worthy of you, but once they're down, it's game over

we see in the show how she is once she trusts someone, she shakes off the shell she shows the world and just becomes herself.

i feel like she'd love someone who can't keep their hands off her (except in the obvious situations)

even lingering gazes would make this girl WEAK and she knows it, so just imagine what having your hands all over her does to her brain (short answer: she short circuits)

much like vander, i think a part of her craves words of affirmation because of how her past mistakes constantly haunt and consume her being

even though a part of her knows it isn't her fault things turned out the way it did, a part of her mind won't allow her to believe it

even if she never might truly believe or accept this fact, hearing you tell her good things about herself and praise her makes her head spin with this feeling she can't explain, but all she knows is that it's one she'd never let go

VANDER

giving:

vander to me is probably one of the more protective characters in the show and i think his love languages in terms of giving reflect that heavily

i personally think he'd adore quality time the most, being the man he is, he doesn't really get much time to himself outside of his kids and dealing with the Lanes

it doesn't really matter what kind of quality time to him either imo, i think he'd be most comfortable with just being in your presence, even if you two aren't saying anything

one of his favorites moments though, is seeing you with his kids

he adores seeing you with them, the sight warming his heart knowing the family he works so hard to keep together is happy

words of affirmation i can see being another huge one for him, he'd definitely let you know that you're doing good in whatever you may be doing or even just making it through each day

he'd often pull you aside to let you know though, wanting his words to only be for you and not the prying eyes of others (or the kids potentially listening in on you both)

i could see vander being into physical touch, but only very slightly if it's in public

if you were behind the bar with him, he'd ever so slightly graze the small of your back with his palm or subtly grab onto your waist as he cleaned off the bar

he's an asshole though (lovingly, of course) and would do this especially if you were talking to someone just to get a laugh out of it

he'd be extra careful with this though, as he knows that he constantly has eyes on him, ones that could be dangerous to you if he overdoes his affections

receiving:

i could see vander loving words of affirmation in return, he definitely needs to hear that he's doing a good job taking care of his kids (especially when he feels like they fuck up because of him)

i also can see him holding a lot of doubts about past decisions in all aspects, so just hearing you tell him that he's doing good and that everything will be alright grounds him more than anything

even just telling him that he's a good father, even with his faults and past mistakes will make him feel so much better, no doubt making him fall for you even more than he thought possible

he's the biggest sucker for physical touch too, especially really subtle ones just for the two of you

don't get him wrong, he loves big gestures of physical affection, but he's not alone with you often, making the subtle ones happen a lot more often

he definitely loves holding hands and interlocking fingers especially, the latter being the one you two do more often when around most people

but when the last drop is closed to outsiders and is usually just benzo, the kids, and yourselves, he's all over you

he'll mostly have you in his lap if you're not off with the kids, or just hugging you from behind

CAITLYN

giving:

this girl is a bit of a tough one for me i won't even lie, but she's very well meaning in most aspects

i feel like she'd be into quality time and gift giving honestly

hear me out though, living in piltover her whole life and only recently seeing for herself how the world is and how things can change in an instant makes me think she'd gravitate towards spending time with you in one way or another

it doesn't even have to be explicitly spending time together either, just the fact that you'd be near her would be enough, especially if you're close enough to where she could protect you if need be

her protective nature is one reason why time with you is so sacred to her, not only that she'd be able to cherish her time with you, but that she'd truly be able to appreciate life in it's entirety

the gift giving aspect simply stems from her being wealthy (well not really)

i just see her as someone who expresses herself and what she wants to say with actions, and those actions are gifts

doesn't matter what you like honestly, she'd get it somehow. luxurious clothes? boom, right there on your shared bed. foods or sweets? she somehow has the entire stock right in front of you with a small smile on her face

both of these, to me, just stem from her innate desire to make you happy

she wants to give her lover the world, and with all she's seen in such a short amount of time after being spoonfed certain things about the world, she wants to make sure you're happy with her for as long as you both live

receiving:

receiving is a slight improvement but honestly she screams physical touch and words of affirmation yearner

think about it, being as skilled as she is, she's probably gotten praise about it from everyone

from you, though? it's way different in her mind, especially if you actually talk about why you give her the praises you do

she's expected the praise by now, but to her, it'd feel different because with you, it didn't feel..obligatory or forced

it wouldn't feel like the stuffy, fake pleasantries she'd be used to being in such a high place of power all her life, but something much more sincere and loving

she'd crave it, even going so far as to push herself beyond her limits just to hear you praise and support her for doing so

physical touch to me is another big one for her, i could see touching being a huge factor for her simply because of the intimacy

she most likely has never had anyone as close to her as her lover, so the sheer intimacy with even the slightest of touches knowing that she will only allow this from you is mindblowing for her in the best ways possible

[nickeverdeen]

Taken pr. 2 | Mom!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Pairings: Natasha x Melina (half family)

Type of fic: Tension

Warnings: None

Parts -> 1

Summary: After your abduction Natasha is determined to get you back even if it means seeking help from someone she hasn’t been wanting to talk to in years. But for you she’d do anything.

���—————————

The cold night air bit at Natasha’s skin as she stood outside Melina’s isolated home, waiting. The phone call had been brief, but Melina owed her, and Natasha was counting on that debt to come through. She knocked twice, the sound sharp against the quiet wilderness.

The door creaked open, and Melina’s sharp gaze met Natasha’s. There was a flicker of surprise in her expression, but she quickly masked it. “Natasha,” she said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Melina,” Natasha replied curtly, wasting no time.

Once inside, Natasha paced the room, the tension rolling off her in waves. Melina watched her carefully, arms crossed. “What’s this about?”

Natasha stopped, taking a deep breath. “Someone close to me was taken.”

Melina raised an eyebrow. “Taken?”

“By the Red Room,” Natasha said bluntly.

That caught Melina’s attention. She straightened, her expression hardening. “And you think I can help?”

“I know you can,” Natasha said, her voice firm. “You still have ties. I need information—anything that can help me find them.”

Melina narrowed her eyes, her mind clearly racing. “Who is this someone?”

Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening. She had been careful not to mention your name, knowing how many questions it would raise. But as Melina’s expectant gaze bore into her, Natasha realized there was no avoiding it.

“She’s…” Natasha faltered, her voice softer now. “Her name is Y/N Romanoff.”

For the first time in the conversation, Melina’s composed demeanor cracked. “Romanoff?” she repeated, her confusion evident. “Who—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Natasha cut in sharply, her voice firm. “What matters is finding her before it’s too late. Can you help me or not?”

Melina’s brows furrowed, clearly wanting to press further, but she knew better than to argue with Natasha when she was like this. With a small nod, she moved toward her desk, powering up a laptop.

“I still have some access,” Melina admitted, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “Not much, but enough to get into the system.”

Natasha stood behind her, every muscle in her body taut with anticipation as Melina worked. Minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the occasional tap of keys.

Finally, Melina spoke. “I found her. She’s been registered for Widow training—just starting.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, her stomach twisting. She leaned closer to the screen, her sharp eyes scanning the information Melina pulled up. “Where is she?”

Melina hesitated. “I can give you coordinates, but they’re fragmented. The Red Room doesn’t keep all their information in one place anymore. They’ve learned from the past.”

“Give me what you’ve got,” Natasha demanded.

Melina jotted down a series of coordinates on a scrap of paper, handing it to Natasha. “It’s not much, but it’s a starting point.”

Natasha grabbed the paper, her grip tight. “Thank you,” she said, turning to leave.

“Natasha,” Melina called after her.

Natasha paused, her hand on the door.

“Who is she?” Melina pressed, her tone softer this time.

Natasha didn’t look back. “She’s my daughter,” she said simply before walking out the door.

Hours later, Natasha sat in the dimly lit cabin of a private jet, the coordinates clutched tightly in her hand. The roar of the engines barely registered as she stared out the window, her mind racing with plans, contingencies, and possibilities.

She didn’t know what she’d find when she reached her destination, but one thing was certain—she wasn’t stopping until she brought you home.

No matter what it took.