#im just. again Wondering about the thought process

[catfishofoldin99colours]

personally I think curly's real name is actually Cuthbert and he Hates it so much and curly is his attempt to seem somewhat cooler and less of a bullying target (Jimmy knows his real name and on Pain Of Death he is never allowed to speak it ever)

[mina-org]

part one - part two (youre here) - part three - part four - part five- six

warning for smut, 141 are panty sniffers! and more yanderery than the last! I have another part written but I just felt like was already dragged a lil so lmk if you want the next part! also not edited bc im lazy

“The birds just not fuckin’ into ya johnny. She never took this long to respond to me.” Simon smirks, truthfully he didn’t really remember but he was fucked off with this entire thing, not only was Johnny after his bird but texting you became a group sport, even the double text.

Simon seethes, usually you would've crawled back to him by now, you'd get drunk and call him sobbing from whatever pub you were at and you'd owe him, rinse and repeat.

At least if you were into Johnny he'd know what you were doing but now your absence started to eat at him, he just wondered your were like a deer fresh out the womb, learning to walk, how would you survive when Simon wasn't there to pick up your the pieces when you inevitably fell apart again.

simon couldnt take them fawning over you anymore so he returned to his bedroom, he had a little secret that he had to keep from those closest to him, your underwear. A collection really.

to start with, they were just tucked in his bag for when he was deployed, he’d push a pair around his cock, satin felt nice but the cream pair with little berries on? they were too cute and so you. He’d pump his cock until they were stick with his cum.

then when he was home more often and you were fucked too dumb to bounce on his cock, neglecting him after hes giving you so many? he'll remember that for next time. and really left him no choice but to scout out your discarded panties, maybe a fresh pair if you packed them, and he'd finish himself off before tugging them up your legs, his cum from earlier still leaking out your pretty pussy. something about you walking home in shame, carrying him with you, a sense of ownership simon loved.

now these panties were all he had, and he wasn't gonna share them. maybe with Johnny, if he was good.

after a week it just wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needed to see his girl but all his texts weren't sending:( and he hadn't seen you at the gym or the pilates class you spent so much money on. almost like your little temper tantrum was serious this time.

okay so it took simon a week or two to turn up begging, well demanding your forgiveness.

or he would've, if you answered the fucking door? after coming over and almost fighting your door guy a few times, he gets the hint, stealth is wealth and all that.

now here he is, staring at you through binoculars, on the rooftop opposite your building, like he's gathering intel or some shit. originally he was gonna keep this to himself, threes a crowd after all but it was chilly on the rooftop and simon is all about efficiency and your safety of course!

thing is, that pesky door man knows who simon is, and its doubtful a stick on moustache and boiler suit is gonna convince him that simon is also the buildings engineer!

through this process they've found out your building has a lot of security issues, nobody even thought about cyber security so when gaz sends out an email with a list of apartment numbers and a time, stating some maintenance was needed, no one bats an eye.

and of course you dont want any awkward conversations, like offering them tea or coffee 50 times while they try to focus but they'd think you rude if you dont and you can't ignore them, thats rude too. so you have to go out and stay out.

so you go shopping, you've been needing more underwear anyway!

soon enough John and gaz are in your apartment, putting up hidden cameras, slipping trackers into the linings of your most worn clothes, rifling through your belongings and testing out your perfume, trying to figure out which one you use daily from the memories of your scent lingering on simon and around the flat.

however gold is struck when they come across your laundry basket! feral is the best fitting word, Johnny will froth at the mouth once they tell him and of course share the bounty of their conquest.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[igorluvr]

‘LOVE AND LATTES | kang dae-ho x reader

PAIRING: kang dae-ho x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: during the games, dae-ho promised to take you on a proper first date. now that you had both successfully made it out, he was going to keep his promise

CONTENT: fluff, literally the tiniest bit of angst, kinda corny, trauma, kissing on the first date smh, reader is implied to be black

AUTHORS NOTE: tryna get a lot of fics out for u guys bcs almost 400 likes on my first ??? omg yall r so sweet i swearrr, tysmm !!! ngl this might be kinda bad bcs im too tired to read over it …

word count: [2.5k]

IT’S been around 3 days since you got out of those hellish games, and you still can’t seem to process it. There was so much death, you felt guilty for taking the money, but it was your only chance at having a way out.

After surviving and splitting the money with a good handful of people, you found yourself dropped off in a dark alleyway. With only a large duffel bag at your side, you felt lost, unsure of where to go.

Eventually, you made your way to a bus station and caught a ride back to your apartment. It took a while to adjust to being in the real world again, a world where a gun wasn’t being held up to your head every hour of the day.

You remembered how you met the sweetest boy there. Kang Dae-ho. He was everything you could’ve asked for. The perfect man, met at a perfectly terrible time. Your mind flashed back to the end of mingle game.

‘I swear, when we get out of here I’m gonna take you on a real date. No guards, no games, just us two and the future ahead of us, okay?’ Dae-ho promised, cupping your face gently in his hands.

‘I love you with all of my heart, and I wanna see you when this is all over. We can move in with eachother and spend everyday in eachothers arms.’ He rambled with tears in his eyes, ‘I can’t lose you.’

Now in the present day, you wished you’d spend more time with him. You thought back to the last day in the games, when you wrote your number on his hand, hoping it wouldn’t be wiped off by the guards before he got home so you could live out the future you planned.

As the days passed, you lost hope in being able to reunite with your lover. Memories of him flashed through your mind. “Fuck, Dae-ho.” you whispered, “If only I had one more day with you..” and as if on cue, you heard your phone ring.

You stared for a couple seconds, confused as to who it could be. ‘It wouldn’t be Dae-ho, would it?’ With an ounce of hope left in your mind, you hurried and clicked the green answer button.

Silence lingered, then you heard a voice that made your heart explode.

“Hello?” Dae-ho’s wavering voice sounded “Is this you?”

You jumped up in joy, feeling a huge smile stretch across your face.

“Oh my God, Dae-ho!! It’s actually you!!” You exclaimed. “I missed you so much I thought we’d never talk again.”

A relieved sigh came from the other line, followed by a slight laugh. “I missed you more. How have you been? Where are you? Do you want me to come over?” he bombarded

“Okay woah, I can tell you missed me. I’m doing good, well better than I was a couple days ago, I’m at my house, and yes, I would love for you to come” You answered

The line went quiet for a moment, making you wonder if you’d lost the connection. Just as concern started to creep in, Dae-ho spoke again “Do you remember that promise I made before we got out?”

Of course you remember, his words have been playing on repeat in your mind like a record. Your heart skipped a beat as you thought of it actually coming true. You muttered a quick ‘mhm’ for him to continue.

“Tomorrow, meet me at the cafe down the street from that big market. I don’t know where you stay, so if it’s too far tell me and I’ll call you an uber.” he planned, “Dress up, even though I know you’ll look amazing in anything” You felt the butterflies in your stomach form as he carried on about what’ll happen the next day.

As the conversation came to a close and you got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking of any possible scenario that could happen tomorrow, good and bad.

‘What if my hair doesn’t cooperate?’

‘What if he doesn’t like how I look anymore?’

‘What if he’s setting me up?’

All these unlikely events start to run through your mind and it caused you to be overwhelmed with everything happening. When drifting off to sleep, you hope that everything turns out right.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You woke up to a constant ‘ding’ blaring through your room every 10 seconds. Immediately, you pressed the power button on your phone thinking maybe you’d accidentally set an alarm. When it didn’t subside after this, you groggily opened your phone to locate the noise.

There were about 15 notifications from Dae-ho, them all texting you as if you’d died in your sleep or something.

A pool of ‘are you awake?’ and ‘are you okay?’ flooded on your lock screen. Not wanting him to worry any further, you decided to text him back

‘goodmorninggg, i’m up now sorry 😭 im okay, how are you?’ You typed, half asleep.

Immediately, your message was read and the bubbles on the left side of the screen appeared.

‘I’m okay. Why do you sleep so late? You scared me.’ the message read. You hadn’t even realized the time. ‘2:26pm’ the clock read. You always had a bad habit of sleeping in but it had gotten unusually bad after getting back from the games.

You quickly apologized in your message, explaining your situation to which he swiftly understood. As the conversation progressed, you discussed your date. You were the type of person that needed to know every detail before doing something, especially something like this.

The both of you decided to meet there at 7pm, to give you time to get ready, and to dress up—but not too much. To be honest, you weren’t sure if you guys had the same definition of too much but you decided to put it aside for now.

Immediately after you guys finished discussing the details, you rushed to get ready. Even though you had 4 hours, it didn’t seem like nearly enough time to see him.

The closet was your first thought, since you basically lived by the rule of getting dressed first, doing hair, then putting on makeup. You scanned your closet for anything that would impress Dae-ho.

It took about 30 minutes alone to pick out an outfit. You decided on a long black dress you bought for your halloween costume that you never got the chance to wear, due to the pickup for the games occurring the same day. You picked out jewelry and a coat to go with it, since it was the beginning of winter.

After getting dressed, you gathered all your makeup supplies and rushed to the bathroom. Doing your makeup took longer than you wanted it to, but you wanted everything to be perfect since this was the first time you’d see him outside of life-or-death situations.

Every wing of eyeliner had to be just right, your lip gloss needed just the right amount of shine, everything had to reflect how much you cared.

The hair was the part you’d been dreading. You didn’t know if it was the detangling, or getting your part straight, but it gave you a headache just thinking about it.

After stalling for about 20 minutes, you finally built up the strength to start on your hair. Pinterest was your best friend for situations like this. You quickly opened the board labeled “hairstyles” and scrolled through them to find the perfect one.

You’d found this beautiful blown-out hairstyle that would look amazing with your outfit and makeup. Since you knew it would take a long time, you silently braced yourself, this wouldn’t be an easy task. You grabbed the blow dryer, flat iron, heat protectant, and got to work.

In about 2 hours, you had finally finished at 6:50pm. The cafe was about 7 minutes away from you, so you grabbed your stuff and walked out of the door.

The drive there was the worst part. Your stomach was doing somersaults. Even though you’d seen eachother at your literal worsts, it still felt so scary. With all these anxieties flashing through your mind, you managed to push them to the back and keep a confident facade.

As you pulled up, you sent a quick text stating your arrival. You fidgeted with the ends of your dress absentmindedly, spacing out and hoping for the best.

The ding of your phone sent shivers down your spine as a text popped up reading ‘Perfect. Come inside and turn to the left, I’m here.’

You felt like throwing up as you walked up to the entrance of the café. The strong smell of caffeine and pastries hit your nose as you searched for Dae-ho in the warm lights.

Turning left as he instructed, you were met with his beaming face, looking like he’d seen the most beautiful sunrise. His eyes widened in awe, and for a moment, he seemed frozen. The corners of his mouth curled up into an infectious smile, and you felt a rush of warmth, knowing that in this moment, you had completely captivated him.

Almost immediately, he jumped up and gave you an engulfing hug. You didn’t know if it was because you were used to the smell of blood being around him, but he smelled astonishingly good. It was like the best mixture of his natural scent and a very expensive cologne.

As he pulled back slightly, you noticed a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands—delicate white lilies mixed with soft pink roses. “These are for you,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I thought it was only right for our first date.”

His hair was down to his neck, loose and messy, quite different from the bun you were used to seeing him in during the games. The collar of his shirt was casually unbuttoned, too. He looked effortlessly flawless.

“You look… wow. You’re so beautiful,” Dae-ho complimented, sending electric shocks through your veins. A rush of shyness met your face—he really thought of you like that?

“It’s so good to see you,” you said, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and delight. “You look amazing too. I mean, I always thought you were handsome, but just… wow.” You took the bouquet from him, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the flowers.

His laughter danced through the air, a sound that brought you so much peace and clarity. “I’m just glad I could pull myself together after… well, everything.” His smile faded a bit, and you felt the silent weight of shared trauma hovering between you.

“Let’s not think about that tonight ,” you suggested softly, taking a seat across from him. “We deserve a night where those horrible games are the last of our worries.”

“Agreed,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze intensifying. “Tonight is about us, and starting fresh,together.”

As you scanned the cafe, adorned with twinkling fairy lights and the faint piano covers playing in the background,you felt the tension from earlier gradually melt away. You could see other people laughing, having the time of their lives. It felt surreal to be part of such a normal scene after everything you had both endured.

The waitress came up to your table and you both ordered drinks; he went for a dark roast coffee while you chose for a sweet vanilla latte. “It’s nice to be able to actually enjoy these little things.” you ranted, “After everything, I never even thought we’d get here.”

Dae-ho's eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth. “I’ve thought about this moment every day since I got back,” he admitted. “Dreamt about sitting across from you in a place that feels safe, where we can just be us.”

That sentiment made your heart swell. You immersed yourself in his beautiful sunkissed eyes. “What do you want for us, Dae-ho?” You asked, knowing that his answer could make or break you.

He hesitated for a moment, his expression solemn. “I want to build a life with you, whatever that looks like. It could be road trips everyday and always having new experiences together, or a cozy apartment with a beautiful family and no worries. I want us to share everything, the good, the bad—everything.”

The sincerity behind his words wrapped around your heart like a warm, familiar blanket. “I want that too,” you said softly, placing your hand over his. The connection was electric, sending sweet shivers up your body.

As you sipped your drinks, Dae-ho leaned in closer, a serious look in his eyes. “You know, I’ve thought about you every single day since we got out. I really missed you.”

“Really? I missed you too,” you replied, voice full of veracity. “It’s been hard without you.”

He took a long pause, as if he was searching for the right words. “I never realized how much I wanted someone like you in my life. Just knowing you were out there somewhere gave me hope.”

You felt your heart pang at his words, you spent all your life searching for a love like this, it felt so good to finally have it. “It was the same for me too. Every time I felt like giving up I had to remind myself of us, and our future.”

A soft smile grew on his face. “I knew we’d find our way back to each other. I just didn’t know how much it would mean to finally be here, like this.”

“Me either,” you said softly. “I was nervous about tonight. I worried that maybe everything would feel different.” You thought back to earlier and how stupid you were for thinking he would see you differently. This is genuinely all you could've asked for.

Dae-ho shook his head with his eyebrows fixed in a furrow. “I was nervous too, but being with you feels right. I could really see us living a perfect life someday”

Your heart swelled with warmth. With him, you felt like you can just be yourself without any fear. He was genuinely your safe space.

“I promise we’ll stay connected. No matter how hard things get, we’ll keep fighting for each other.” You swore, knowing how your past relationships ended and wanting to break the cycle.

“Thank you, really. It means the world to me,” Dae-ho said sincerely, his eyes meeting yours. “I just want us to have a future, no matter how hard it'll be.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “It’s comforting to have someone you know will be there for you, even on the darker days.”

His smile deepened, and for a moment, everything else faded. Just the two of you were in the room—focused on your shared promise. Nothing else mattered in this moment, you were ready to finally create a new beginning.

Silence in the air was broken as he finally spoke up, “I want to build a life where we support each other through any and everything." he grinned. “Even the small moments matter. Like cooking together and trying not to burn the kitchen down.”

You chuckled softly, picturing you both in the kitchen attempting to cook and leaving something in the oven too long. “I can definitely see that happening.”

“And if we accidentally set the place on fire, at least I’ll have an excuse to scoop you up and look all heroic while I rescue you.” he joked, his expression growing more playful

Laughter erupts from you and your eyes sprinkle with joy, causing Dae-ho to lean in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You know, I really missed your laugh. It makes everything feel so much brighter.”

“Really?” you asked, feeling warmth spread through your chest, “I missed yours too, it’s cute.”

The atmosphere felt light, almost euphoric, as you both relaxed into the comfort of eachother's presence. “Believe it or not, I was really so nervous for tonight,” Dae-ho admitted, his voice softening as he brushes his hair back behind his ear. “I thought I’d forget how to talk to you.”

“Trust me,” you said, voice tender, “I was nervous too. But I realized that after everything, who else could understand us like this?”

“Exactly,” He said before taking a sip of his coffee. “I feel like I can be myself around you, like I’ve never been able to with anyone else. It’s so freeing.”

“Freedom and love. Isn’t that what life’s really all about?” you said, your voice filled with hope and longing. You felt a warmth in your heart as you spoke, realizing that these two things were what you truly cherished.

As the conversation flowed, you exchanged stories, laughter, and memories—you shared dreams and fears, and slowly the nervousness slowly melted away.

“I can’t believe we made it out,” he said, his voice stern. “I can’t stop thinking about the others we lost… what they would’ve did if they made it out too.”

A brief silence enveloped the moment, both of you remembering the friends that didn’t make it, the faces of people who had shared brutal experiences with you.

“I think they’d want us to live, like really live,” you said firmly, squeezing his hand gently. “To make the most of us getting out, we owe it to them.” Dae-ho silently nodded, the thick atmosphere slowly leaving.

As the evening progressed, you lost track of time, so caught up in the warmth of shared smiles and nervous laughter. You could hardly believe this was the same man who stepped up and took initiative at every rough point during the games, willing to sacrifice himself for everyone's safety.

The night ended slowly as Dae-ho walked you outside to your car. The stars twinkled like tiny beacons in the dark sky above. “It feels different tonight, doesn’t it?” you said, glancing up at the stars. “Yeah, it really does,” he replied, his voice soft but full of warmth.

As you strolled along, flowers in hand, you both shared stories from before you met, your voices mixing with the soft hum of the night. Every smile and nervous chuckle made you feel a little lighter. You realized how much you valued this moment, this time together, away from the chaos and pain that had once consumed you both.

You exchanged glances, and you both understood something unspoken between you. “I never thought I could feel this way again,” you said, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. Dae-ho stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Neither did I. But I’m glad we’re here together.”

Finally, you paused beneath a big, ancient tree. Its branches stretched out like arms, swallowing you both in its shadow. Dae-ho turned to you, his eyes beaming in the starlight. His stare locked onto yours, and he took a step closer, face inches from yours.

"I wish this could last forever baby, I love you." he whispered, breath caressing your skin. Then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. You felt a spark of connection, and your heart skipped a beat as you kissed him back, the warmth of his lips sending shivers down your spine. The kiss deepened, and everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

As the kiss lingered, time itself seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into a beautiful blur. When you finally pulled away, his eyes searched yours, a mix of desperation and love radiating from him. "Whatever happens, I'll always be here" he said softly, his hand still cradling your face. You smiled, knowing that no matter where life took you, this memory would be a cherished part of your story, a promise of what could be.

[darkmatilda]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: knock knock knock in the middle of the night — two suitcases (plus a vanity case and a handbag) at the door, and not a request, but an announcement—you're moving in. when your dumb neighbor floods your apartment and the renovation will take at least two weeks, you find a very effective way to make it spencer reid’s problem.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, flatmates yay, lots of domestic scenes with them just watching movies etc, but they also talk about murdering each other once (just once, impressive for them), teasing so hard im not sure a single sentence goes by without it, reference to them getting married in vegas, CAT, reader wearing make up, spencer being a weirdo in one scene, spencer and nightmares...hope y'all not bored with one bed trope

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

𝐚/𝐧: request | this has a chance to be my favorite fic from this WHOLE series PERIOD masterlist

Spencer wasn’t asleep when the sound of the doorbell rang.

The time on the clock showed such a late hour that he could almost, without any blame directed at himself, ignore it. He didn’t do that, though, because of a passing thought that it might be one of his friends. Maybe in trouble, maybe wanting to share some sudden terrible news (said his fatal side), or on the contrary, something truly wonderful (a weak trembling voice of optimism).

He put the book aside, got up from the bed, and after a moment, suspiciously yet inquisitively looked through the peephole. He held his eye to it for four seconds, then pulled his head back.  A disbelieving snort from his mouth.

He was dreaming, and this dream was really starting to approach the border of absurdity. Lately, nightmares had been happening to him more and more often—that is, they had always accompanied him, but sometimes their frequency was rare, and sometimes they celebrated their renaissance in a truly sick and twisted form. He was currently in the era of such a renaissance, and he had plenty of reasons to suspect that the moment he opened that door, the woman standing behind it would grow fangs, turn into a monster-woman, and push him against one of the walls, in which he would grow like mold into a fresh fruit and remain in it forever, screaming for someone to free him, but no words would come out of his mouth, because it would turn out he didn’t have one.

He stepped a pace away from the door, ready to return to his bedroom.

That was a very sober thought for someone in the middle of a dream, right? Usually, one doesn’t have that much awareness in them — in most cases, one has none at all, is a video game character controlled by fears, but experiencing everything vividly.

He opposed the nightmare. Cool. But why, then, was something so strongly pushing him toward that door and making it impossible to walk away? The doorbell rang once more, and then again in short intervals, and Spencer already knew — this wasn’t a dream. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his face and opened the door—only to come face to face with the woman’s fist, which had been just about to (firmly) knock on it. When his person appeared in the doorway, her hand froze in mid-air, then dropped onto the handle of one of the two suitcases with a leopard print.

And then, unfazed—despite the fact that she had just nearly punched him in the face—she spoke in an overly cheerful voice.

“Oh, you’re not asleep. How wonderful.”

Spencer briefly clenched his eyelids shut. Her facial expression, her tone of voice, and literally the suitcases at her feet made it obvious what this was about. A favor. One he would either agree to right away, feeling small about it, or agree to after several (dozen) minutes of her persuasive game, which he somehow never managed to resist despite being a profiler. Feeling even smaller in the process.

“I’m not asleep because someone is pounding on my door. There’s nothing wonderful about that.”

“Me visiting you at night. What about that isn’t wonderful?”

Spencer looked at her from under raised eyebrows, but she bore it with dignity. Silence had never been the cure for her brazen behavior—he had to approach it differently. He slightly relaxed his posture and nodded toward her suitcases.

“Quite a bit of luggage for a one-night visit,” he observed.

She shrugged.

“Just the essentials. What I managed to grab after my entire apartment got completely flooded by my stupid neighbor and now needs a deep renovation.”

He nodded with exaggerated, fake sympathy. He already knew what she was doing at his place at this hour, which didn’t mean he intended to be all meek about it. Besides, with people like her, sometimes it’s healthy to show them, to remind them, that you’re not at their beck and call.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What are you planning to do now?”

She gave the handle of her suitcase a casual pat.

“Stay in the home of my generous friend,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. “Who doesn’t mind me disturbing him just a tiny bit for the next…hmm, not sure, let’s say two weeks.”

With those words, she confidently stepped forward, as if he had at least invited her in. As if he had said go ahead, make yourself at home. But Spencer didn’t move an inch, still blocking the entrance with his body, causing her to bump into him and take a half-step back. Frustration flickered across her face, but she swallowed it quickly, looking at him with fake confusion, continuing their little silly game.

“Your friend,” Reid pointed out, now standing about half as close to her as before, which forced him to clear his throat slightly so that his voice would remain steady. “Sounds like a really nice guy.”

The corners of her lips really wanted to lift. Instead, she nodded with full agreement.

“He is a nice guy,” she confirmed, looking straight at his face, directly into his eyes. “Although, if I had to list his flaws, we’d probably be standing here for at least another fifteen minutes—which of course we don’t want. But deep down, he is a nice guy. And besides…”

She paused for a moment, leaning her face a little closer to his.

“He’s my husband. And it’s his civic duty to let me in.”

He didn’t blink under the force of her gaze, surprised she even chose that weapon in their argument. Their marriage which—oh, man—should’ve been annulled ages ago, but at this point they’d both kind of forgotten about it.

Anyway, focused on her lips as they slowly and precisely pronounced the word husband, he completely missed the moment she slipped swiftly under the arm he had resting against the doorframe, leaving all her luggage in the hallway.

The thought crossed his mind to leave it there, just to make a point. But then he remembered he’d never really trusted his neighbors, so with a loud sigh of protest he grabbed her two suitcases, what turned out to be a small trunk behind them, and a handbag resting on top—so tiny he genuinely wondered what could fit in there besides lipstick.

Even the plastic evidence bags from crime scenes were way more spacious.

He carried the bags inside—her silhouette had already vanished somewhere deep into the apartment, which was a little weird considering she’d never (okay, except for that one time ages ago) actually been here before. His brain slowed for a second as he felt the weight of her suitcases in his hands. There was no way she was settling in here for the next two weeks! The fact that they were a pair of idiots who’d gotten married in Vegas didn’t obligate him to anything!  He had to find a way to get rid of her. He’d let her stay the night, sure, but after that…

“Oh, and my baby is here!” Her high, delighted voice rang out, and a moment later he found her in his living room, clutching a black cat tightly to her chest. “Mommy. Missed. You. So. Much.”

With each word, she planted a kiss on Marie’s tiny head.

Spencer generally avoided anthropomorphizing animals or assigning them emotions, but he could not shake the impression that the cat was staring at him in full-blown panic. And yet she stayed in her arms, even curling her tail up in contentment.

He shook his head, realizing he’d been standing still for too long, just staring at the scene. He cleared his throat to get her attention—not that it worked even in the slightest.She was still fully immersed in kissing their cat. Still, he decided to assume she was listening.

“How exactly do you see this playing out?” he asked, more seriously this time. “You’re planning to live on my couch for two weeks?”

She raised her brows at him, like he’d just said something worthy of divine punishment.

“Who said anything about the couch? You have a bed.”

“Just one.”

She sighed, like the whole conversation was exhausting.

“You know, I think savoir vivre has some thoughts about offering your bed to a guest.”

“Maybe it does. But a guest is usually someone you invite. Not someone who invites themselves.”

“I always thought you were a gentleman, Spencer. Don’t ruin that image.”

“Wait, seriously, you thought I—No. No, I’m not falling for that. You can call me whatever you want, I’m not giving up my bed. Listen, I’m tall, you have no idea how much my neck hurts after just one night on that couch…”

“In that case, we can take turns,” she said finally, with open displeasure in her voice. Spencer paused, genuinely surprised at the offer—and even more surprised it came from her. Then his eyes fell on her clothes, clearly the same ones she’d worn all day, and her makeup, still in place, suggesting she’d had a long—very long—day and probably just wanted to crash, no matter the terms. “My eternal need for comfort will be halfway satisfied. Your neck will be equally safe. Thoughts?”

He ran it through his head for a moment. He wasn’t used to compromising with her. Wow, sleep deprivation really did do unimaginable things to a (wo)man. Finally, he nodded—just a little. It actually sounded pretty fair. Besides, the idea of her sleeping on his couch for two weeks didn’t sit right with him.And it had nothing to do with her calling him a gentleman…

“But as for tonight… rock, paper, scissors?”

She shook her head quickly.

 “No. No way. Not with you. You probably know the exact probability of me throwing paper and you’ll use it against me. So—no.” 

Spencer stared at her for a beat, silently urging her to come up with a better tie-breaker. Not that they had straws in the apartment to draw from. Suddenly, the corner of her mouth tugged upward. 

At first, he agreed—hesitantly, but he did. She was already about to set the cat down at the far end of the room when a warning light suddenly went off in his brain.

 “Marie will decide,” she announced, shifting her gaze to the cat in her arms.

“Whichever one of us she walks up to gets the bed tonight.”

“You’re not, by any chance, hiding cat treats in your pockets, don’t you?” he asked, suspicious.

He wasn’t teasing. He was genuinely considering the possibility.

She let out a disbelieving huff.

“I barely even have pockets in this outfit,” she declared.

Spencer didn’t change his expression. To him, that sounded suspiciously like a deflection.

She closed her eyes for a second, visibly holding herself back from yelling at him—then suddenly threw her arms out wide.

“You don’t believe me? Fine. Be my guest. You can search me. FBI style. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice with that, don’t you?”

For a moment, he looked into her eyes—challenging, teasing.Then his gaze slid over her clothes, tightly clinging to her body, and the body itself—every curve highlighted by the fabric. Admittedly, there weren’t many places to hide anything in that outfit.

They managed to convince Marie to stay in one place while they both crouched on opposite sides of the room, each calling the cat to themselves. Her black paws went tap tap tap (a moment of hesitation) then tap tap tap ended in her arms. Spencer sighed, but he didn’t really have a reason to be annoyed, since he had agreed to the terms himself. The couch wasn’t that bad anyway, not as bad as he always claimed.

“Let’s not be ridiculous,” he suggested, finding it unexpectedly difficult to swallow.

He caught the mocking glint in her eyes and ignored it—just like he ignored the brief flicker of embarrassment that washed over him. “It’s late. Just…put Marie down and let’s see what happens.”

“That’s only because you haven’t seen each other in a while and she missed you,” he justified it.

What hurt him the most was the betrayal from his own child.

How could he have raised a Brutus?

“Mhm,” she nodded dismissively and adjusted the cat in her arms the way you’d shift a child on your hip, and a genuine smile, not part of any game, appeared on her lips. “Or maybe she just loves her mama more.”

🐾

That night when she decided to show up at his apartment and disturb him just a tiny bit for the next… hmm, not sure, let’s say two weeks, Spencer had assumed her moving in would be a lot more invasive. But somehow, they quickly fell into a rhythm that allowed them to mostly stay out of each other’s way.

The biggest differences were the chaos that overtook the bathroom (but more on that later), and the fact that every other night, he was forced to sleep on the couch. In that regard, when he agreed to her arrangement, he completely overlooked one surprisingly obvious thing. After just one night of her sleeping in his bed, it completely absorbed her scent.

He should’ve predicted it—it was pleasant, a blend of body lotion and other cosmetics, with a trace of her tying it all together. Because of his germophobia, he had always been a little more sensitive to smells than most, but this wasn’t germophobic Spencer talking, repulsed by her scent and finding it disruptive to the point of sleeplessness.

This was a different kind of Spencer. One who felt under some strange spell every time he laid his head on the pillow, his thoughts drifting in a direction he had no intention of exploring.

He couldn’t change the sheets every single night—she would notice, and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself. Not without completely combusting from embarrassment, assuming he even told her the truth.

So on the second night of her stay, when he was supposed to sleep in the bed marked by her presence and it all became too overwhelming…he accidentally spilled coffee on it, just to have an excuse to change the bedding.

He never drank coffee in bed. But they had never lived together before—she didn’t know his habits—so it went unnoticed. Still, just to make it more believable, he actually started drinking coffee in bed, even though he hated it.

But of course, he couldn’t keep doing that every time.

So eventually, he just forced himself to get used to it as quickly as possible.

It was a bit like the first time he let the cat sleep in his bed—foreign and strange at first, but over time, he even started to appreciate it. Especially when it began to ease his nightmares.

🐾

That night, it was his turn on the couch again, but he decided to delay falling asleep. Seriously delay it, dedicating the entire time to binge-watching several episodes of Doctor Who.

She was a bit of a night owl—it wasn’t unusual for her to come home very late—but that evening, she was around and constantly moving about the apartment.

He didn’t mind the sound of her footsteps (in fact, he found it rather endearing, especially when it was followed by a tap tap tap… the sound of tiny paws). He’d already gotten used to not living alone anymore, and besides, he was far too absorbed in the show.

He was pulled out of his absorption by a scoff from behind him. He turned around to see his flatmate, dressed in a satin pajama set with short shorts and a short-sleeved top. Her hair was freshly washed, and she was leaning on his kitchen island with her elbows, eyes fixed on the TV with a not-very-convinced expression.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asked.

“Doctor Who,” he replied shortly, not intending to get into a discussion about his favorite show—which was his favorite for reasons that were not up for debate.

“Easy there, Reid. I was just asking.”

“I can now subconsciously sense when one of your snide remarks is approaching. Thank yourself for moving in.”

“Snide remark right away? Maybe I just wanted to share my constructive criticism.”

“In your dictionary snide remark and constructive criticism are synonyms.”

“That all depends on your sensitivity level. For example, to me, saying this show is lame isn’t mean at all. It’s just how I feel.”

He rolled his eyes. She thought Doctor Who was lame, yet she kept cutting through the living room surprisingly often—just as often as she glanced toward the screen. And she was even engaged enough to form an opinion. Interesting.

He shook his head mockingly. “Good thing no one’s forcing you to watch. You have free will and can just…” he made a little walking-man gesture with his fingers.

She made a face that landed somewhere between a cynical smile and a grimace nonverbal way to say very funny. Then she pointed at the box of tea sitting right beneath her hand, which she must have forgotten about, so not at all focused on his lame show.

“There’s no other place I can make tea. So, in a way, I am being forced to watch and I can’t just…” She mimicked his earlier gesture to cap off her far-fetched explanation.

Spencer let out a dismissive laugh and turned back to watching. But it was hard to focus—there were constant noises coming from behind him: a mug being taken out, water being boiled. He caught himself glancing back discreetly more than once. Only to catch her staring at the TV screen.

Their eyes would usually meet then, and instead of looking away bashfully, she would just nod, as if doubling down on her opinion.

Uhm, lame.

Her large mug of green tea was ready, and he wondered what she would do next. Whether she would just head to her room or...

“I bought ice cream,” she announced, pulling a liter-sized tub from the freezer. She grabbed two spoons and walked over to the couch, handing him one over the backrest.

“No, I’ll pass,” he said. 

She shoved the spoon into his hand and took a seat beside him on the couch, close enough that their shoulders brushed with each unsynced breath, and sharing one tub of ice cream became easier.

“You said you wouldn’t watch my show,” he noted, turning the spoon in his hands.

The surface of the ice cream was so frozen she had to stab it with force to get the spoon in.

“I’m not watching,” she said with a shrug. “I’m just enjoying my tea. And sharing ice cream with you, like a good flatmate should. Give me some blanket, I’m freezing ‘cause of that ice creams” 

She lifted the tub slightly, giving him room to throw the blanket over her bare legs and smooth it down around her waist to keep the warmth in.

“Are you gaslighting me into thinking you’re not watching Doctor Who when you clearly haven’t taken your eyes off the screen since the episode started?” he asked, glancing up at her.

She didn’t answer—too focused on the screen, spoon resting against her bottom lip in total concentration. She might not have even heard him.

Spencer shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

He watched her for a moment longer, trying to figure out whether the faint trace of a smile was truly forming on her lips or if he was just imagining it.

Two episodes of Doctor Who later, the ice cream tub was empty, so was her mug of tea, and her shoulder wasn’t just brushing against his anymore—it had fully settled there. His teasing about her hidden nerdy side and her totally-not-real fondness for the show had been met with the kind of patient silence only she could pull off, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in it with growing—by now no longer internal—satisfaction. Another episode ended and Spencer held off on starting the next one, the living room fell into a brief silence, broken only by his roommate’s yawn.

Sleepiness didn’t keep her from throwing him an expectant look toward the remote in his hand.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re out of tea and ice cream. What’s your excuse this time?”

Right on cue, their black cat jumped up onto her lap, curling into a nest. He gave the creature a look of betrayal. The woman let out a theatrical sigh and sank deeper into both the couch and his arm, sliding just slightly against them both. “I’m not heartless. I’m not going to make her move.”

"I’d argue with that," he muttered, referring to the first part of her statement. He reached for his traitorous cat, scratching behind her ear, only to find something else besides soft black fur—her fingers, brushing against his. His hand froze for a moment before he pulled it back, deciding that two people petting the cat at once might be a bit much. “All this just to avoid admitting that Doctor Who is actually a captivating show.”

“Oh my sweet baby loves when mama rubs her belly?” preoccupied with showering the cat with affection, she completely ignored his words.

“Pretending you don’t hear me, huh?”

In the meantime, the next episode had already begun, and her eyelids looked heavy, lazily half-closed.

“But I think it’s time to clip those claws, look at yourself Marie, when was your last little mani-pedi?”

"A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?" he remarked, nodding toward her own long nails. He realized he wasn’t paying any attention to the episode that had just started and was barely aware a few minutes had already passed. What he was very aware of was how late it had gotten—and how much heavier her temple was pressing against his shoulder.

"Well, I’ve never accidentally scratched anyone, unlike this little missy. On purpose, once or twice, I’ll admit. Be a dear and lean further into the corner of the couch, I’m figuring out how to get comfy here..."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh.

"I don’t get it. You fought so hard for my bed, and now that it’s your turn, you’d rather fall asleep on me?"

Her gaze slowly settled on him, and there was something searching in it. And that’s when it hit Spencer—their closeness, the position they had somehow ended up in, and the surprising comfort that came with it, one neither of them had questioned for even a second. He swallowed nervously, and she nodded thoughtfully.

 “You know what, you’re right,” she said slowly. “It would be a shame to waste my turn in the bed. Enjoy the episode.”

She kept her eyes on his face for a moment longer before setting the blanket aside, her bare feet carrying her toward his bedroom. Soft paw steps followed behind her, leaving him alone on the couch.

Spencer watched her go before fixing his gaze on his lame show. This was what he wanted, technically���catching up on a few episodes in peace. And yet, deep down, he really regretted not just keeping his mouth shut and letting her fall asleep.

🐾

A small excerpt from the bathroom chronicles.

It was the one room where Spencer always managed to maintain the greatest order, a near-sterile state. Mostly because he didn’t store books or documents there, and toilet paper and a toothbrush didn’t change their place on their own. Since she had moved in, the cosmetics cabinet looked more confusing than an overfilled bookshelf. Every morning he wondered how those shelves managed to withstand their weight. Once, he made a calculation in his head, added up the estimated weight of each of those cosmetics, assumed a certain shelf durability. He concluded that if he ever made a mistake and put the soap there instead of on the sink, everything would collapse.

A small assumption he had also made at the very beginning of their living together was that the woman would get up earlier than him. After all, she had to get the time to use all those cosmetics from somewhere, right? It turned out to be the opposite. They got out of bed at roughly the same time, and it always came down to an exciting race to the bathroom door, which she often won by resorting to tactics like grabbing the fabric of his shirt.

That morning, both of them had a solid chance of being late, so in response to one of his increasingly impatient knocks, she simply opened the bathroom door, letting him in while she finished doing her makeup.

The focus on her face as she traced the shape of her lips with a lip liner seemed sacred. While brushing his teeth, Spencer watched the process from the corner of his eye, considering two things in his mind. Why they hadn’t previously thought of simply sharing the bathroom instead of fighting over it, and why she even did that, since the shape of her lips was already so pretty. Then a silly comparison came to his mind — that as an occasional consumer who valued factory settings, he should only appreciate any enhancements.

Her fingers slowly lifted the lipstick and gently pressed its active side to her lower lip, spreading it. Oh, and now he probably understood the purpose of the lip liner — the two cosmetics created a very fitting combination on her bottom lip. Her eyes, focused on her reflection and her face, completely unexpectedly caught his, in the mirror.

Caught in such an inelegant act of staring, Spencer wanted to return to brushing his teeth, but he was doing that already, so he tried to do it more — which only resulted in his long arm with its long elbow knocking against the shelf and sending two creams tumbling down.

She smudged the lipstick outside the edge of her lips and turned toward him, ready to scream. Spencer was prepared to take a defensive stance and shift the blame onto—well, he didn’t know what yet—but it turned out the containers had landed on the floor intact. He quickly bent down to pick them up and set them back on the shelf, straightening up and raising a calming (yet simultaneously nervous) hand in her direction.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it, it’s fine…”

“You’re lucky. You and your big clumsy paws are very lucky.”

“There’s no need to overreact, seriously.”

“Oh, I’m overreacting?” she raised her eyebrows at him, hands on her hips, and her serious expression looked absurd with that red lipstick going well beyond the edge of her lips. He tried to point it out to her somehow, but she silenced him with a look, so he gave up. “Should I remind you how you reacted when I almost broke your mug?” she asked.

He shook his head side to side, smoothly deflecting the argument.

“It had sentimental value. Did your cream?”

She just looked at him in silence, for a long moment.

“It cost $300.”

Spencer blinked. Okay, a totally justified crash out. He really should control his clumsiness better… he leapt back suddenly when both her hands moved toward his neck.

“What are you doing?” he almost squeaked.

She widened her eyes at him like he was a complete lunatic, even shook her head in disbelief.

“I was going to tie your tie, you idiot,” she snorted. He looked down, stunned. Sure enough, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.“You thought what? That I was going to strangle you right away?”

“Well…yes?”

She shook her head again. In fact, she hadn’t really stopped.

 “And I’m the one who overreacts,” she muttered to herself. Louder, she added, “This job is seriously messing with your head, you realize that, right?”

Still pulling himself together, he shrugged. It wasn’t exactly a new opinion. Before he could get any kind of response out, her hands — this time slower, more controlled — reached for the two ends of his tie hanging loosely on either side of his neck.

That required a step in his direction; her elbows brushed his chest once or twice in the process, and on her face, in her lowered gaze, Spencer saw the same concentration she’d had while putting on her lipstick.

”We literally spent two weeks on a case where a wife strangled her husband,” he offered. He just needed to say something — anything — to break the silence that had fallen over the bathroom and cover the intrusive sound of him swallowing a bit too loudly.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, eyebrows raised.

“I’d be tying my husband’s tie if I planned to kill him?” she asked. Her fingers were just now folding one end of the tie over the other; looking up at him made the knot uneven. Spencer noticed, but said nothing.

Instead, he gave a small shrug.

 “Lulling him into a false sense of security?”

“First the tie, then cyanide in the coffee?”

“Exactly. Though, for future reference, maybe don’t say your plans out loud. Especially not around an FBI agent.”

“And the husband in question, while you’re at it. You can’t leave that part second.”

Spencer couldn’t stop the reply that slipped from his mouth.

 “I’m starting to suspect you really enjoy bringing that up.”

“I do. ’Cause it’s funny,” she said, giving his tie a pat with something that looked suspiciously like pride. “Done.”

He’d almost forgotten she was tying it at all. She stepped back, watching his reaction as he finally looked down at the tie. He frowned. Moving past her to stand closer to the mirror, he checked his reflection, just in case his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Only then did he let out a short laugh.

 “This is the worst tied tie I’ve ever seen.”

She crossed her arms with an offended scoff. “What exactly is wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He turned to her, pointing at the crooked knot like it was offensive. “Just look at it.”

Spencer just huffed at her stubbornness and started undoing it. He hadn’t said it to be cruel—the knot really was terrible. She watched him retie it properly, something close to wounded pride flickering in her eyes.

She shook her head, completely unbothered.

“It’s a decently tied tie.”

“You should let me try again, then,” she said.

“I’d like to remind you we’re almost late.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

His fingers were still on the tie, about to let it fall loosely back against his shirt when her words made them pause. He glanced at her expression—no teasing this time. The first few sounds he made barely qualified as speech; he had to clear his throat to make the words come out properly.

“Tomorrow, then.”

🐾

He opened the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise. Not just because it was the middle of the night—or really, the early hours of the morning by now—but also to spare his aching, exhausted head from any sound that might make it throb harder. The apartment, of course, was silent and dark. Spencer turned on only as many lights as necessary to find his way to the bed.

First, though, he headed to the bathroom. He didn’t have the energy for a full shower—he’d take one after at least a short nap—but he had to wash his hands. He needed to rinse the entire day off them. The last few days, really. The whole case they’d finally managed to close. He had to make sure that none of it lingered on his skin or fingers when he touched his blankets, when he reached into the cupboard for his favorite mug to make coffee, or when he scratched the cat behind the ear.

Only after that small ritual drag his body to the bedroom. On autopilot, he approached the bed and was even ready to lie down when he suddenly froze in place.

There was already someone in his bed. And it wasn’t just his cat, who was normally curled up on the pillow like a single mom who works two jobs.

Spencer was so sleepy that he forgot he had a flatmate for almost two weeks now. A flatmate who first turned restlessly in her sleep, then her eyes lit up in the darkness, awakened. It didn’t have to be bright for him to notice that she flinched.

“God, you scared me,” she said. Her voice still sleepy, hoarse. There was a chance that if he had left without a word, she would’ve fallen asleep again and wouldn’t remember the interaction in the morning, or that she had even been woken up. “I didn’t expect you guys to be back so soon,” she added.

Spencer nodded slightly, barely able to make any use of his mouth and form a sentence. He wiped his face with his hand, trying to shake himself out of that state.

“Me neither,” he mumbled.

Silence between them. He realized he’d have to go to the couch. That wasn’t a problem for him, all he cared about was sleep.

“I-I’ll move Marie, okay? I just want to take the pillow and go to the couch.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

Confused, he didn’t understand what she meant, and silently watched as she moved the cat to her side of the bed and pulled the blanket back on the other side.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight,” her voice, though quiet and gentle, had a lot of command in it.

“I’m not?” he repeated uncertainly.

Only then did it register, and he scratched his nose, shaking his head.

“No, seriously. Just give me the pillow—”

“Just lie down.”

He was probably too tired to insist, so he just sighed softly and rolled onto the mattress. He didn’t even manage to grab the edge of the blanket to cover himself when her hand did it for him, pushing it up almost to his nose.

A quiet snort escaped Spencer, and he adjusted the fabric so it ended just below his ribs.

There was a soft sound of impact ��� he recognized it instantly as the thump of cat paws hitting the floor as she jumped off the bed.

“She’s probably mad I took her spot,” he muttered.

“Mhm, likely. But her sulks don’t last long. You’ll wake up with her tail on your face,” she said, and Spencer liked how her voice adapted to the surroundings and the quiet. Even though she was lying right next to him, on her side, he didn’t feel like she was speaking directly into his ear. She fell silent for a moment, but didn’t fall asleep. “What kind of case was it?”

In the way he immediately shook his head, there was a surprising amount of force.

“Not something you’d want to hear about right now,” he assured her. “At night. In bed. Before sleep. Trust me on this one.”

She exhaled through her nose.

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured in agreement. “Goodnight then.”

He replied, but without even a hint of conviction in the words. Suddenly, slides of all the nightmares that had been keeping him company the past few nights flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to push them away, but it only made them more vivid. Suddenly, it felt like something was pressing down on his chest, making it harder to take the next breath.

“Goodnight,” he repeated, though it felt a little strange.

Just to say something. The words left his mouth, so did the air, at least partially imitating a regular, healthy breath. It didn’t help lift the weight off his chest, but at least he didn’t look like his whole body was slowly being flattened.

He squeezed his eyelids shut too tightly, then tried to relax them, ready to fall asleep with that unpleasant feeling. I mean, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before.

Only then did he feel a certain weight actually settle on his chest. Not imagined, not vague, and not ominous.It was real, in the shape of a hand, resting on him softly— connecting him to the person lying next to him, and making him aware of her presence, and of her calm—unlike his—breathing.

Both the sound and the feeling were grounding in their own way, making him relax his tightly shut eyelids.

He woke up with a cat’s tail on his face and the slow realization dawning on him that he hadn’t had a nightmare that night.

[pearlescentparade]

TWO TIME X READER ,,,,, ANY CRUMBS .,,, ANYTHING ., I WILL PROVE MY NAMESAKE TRUE AGAIN PLEA

★two timesmut anon

hi my name is two time and im BORING AS SHIT /ref

stealth 🔄 two time x reader fluff drabble💝

a savory aroma wafts from the pot of stew as you gently stir tonight's dinner, the stove's range hood ventilation's incessant hum serving as ambience.

you would've had two time help, but you knew better than to let them roam in the vicinity of knives. no matter how desperately they beg to offer their assistance, there is no appealing their ban from the kitchen!

you take up a spoonful of the stew, lightly blow on it, then lift it to your lips. plegh.. too salty.. a little more water would dilute it.

after making your fix, you taste it again, lightly nodding in approval at the improved flavor.

you'd go back to stirring if it hadn't dawned on you that your house is a bit too quiet for your liking. two time was home, weren't they? you thought you remembered asking them to stay in your shared bedroom until dinner was ready.

usually, you'll hear them faintly humming or rambling to themself... yet there is no such indicator of their presence.

only silence. you could hear a pin drop.

or a floorboard creak.

your head could've flown off from how quickly you snapped it to look behind you, only to be met with two time in the process of sneaking up behind you. a smile is plastered on their face, even when you've spotted them. in fact, it might've grown wider upon you turning around.

"oops! you caught me! ah, and to think i almost had you, hehe... little lamb is so vigilant!" they throw their hands up, playfully admitting their shameless guilt.

"you're not as slick as you think, timey," you retort, returning their silly attitude. "here, have some and lemme know what you think." you scoop another spoonful out, holding a hand beneath it as you carefully transfer it to two time's mouth.

they immediately swallowed, almost like the stew just went straight down their throat. you doubt they even thought about how it tastes...

"wow! i've certainly never tasted something like this! truly enlightening."

"...is it, good..?"

"nope! ..yes! ....yea! ...i'm not sure." with every switch of their opinion, two time tilts their head to the other side.

you sigh. this wasn't helping at all... but you suppose it couldn't be helped. they probably didn't consume such rich or particularly savory food in the cult. you wonder what they did eat.. gruel? is it possible for someone to be so devoted that they'd subject themself to that willingly?

as you ponder spawn cultists' diets, two time's face lights up, an idea brewing.

a small noise of surprise escapes you when your partner suddenly cups your face in their hands, slightly squishing your cheeks together.

but the shock doesn't end there, because right after, two time leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. you think you felt them lick you too.

"mm, it tasted better like that."

"wh.. huh? what??"

"there was soup on your mouth! i just got it for you. you silly, messy lamb!"

"oh.. i see..."

they'd probably like the stew more salty then.

(parade postscript: forgive me drabbles will in fact be drabbles and not fics bc I NEED TO ACTUALLY REMEMBER TO KEEP DRABBLES SSHORT AND NOT,, MAKE THEM FULLBLOWN FICS)

[fixated-cookies]

im kinda thinkin about.... hypnosis and smilk.... smth abt the process specifically of taking over and invading your mind.. slowly giving into it even if youre resisting the effects its having on your mind, its inevitable that he'll win and you'll succumb to his control and influence over you... your mind may be foggy, but it's so perfectly empty and moldable now... what were you doing again? do you even care?

smth about being unable to look away from his eyes once he starts it; even if you look away, something will draw you back, and it gets stronger as it goes on... at first, you can physically turn away (though you'll get dragged back by some invisible force), but eventually you cant even rip your heard away from his gaze. smth about it being unable to be stopped by anyone other than himself once he starts it... no matter how far from you he is (as long as he's well... in sightline)

honestly you can like. think abt this in any context you want . i just.... really like the concept of hypnosis with him..... its captivating to me (hah) .... sorry for the essay in your inbox damn

Anon the reason why this was rotting in my askbox for so long was because I needed to give it justice hahaha, hypnosis is totally in character for someone like shadow milk cookie, and I love it.

WARNING- slight yandere, hypnosis

Hmm, I'm wondering how it would start, he would obviously make it a game, maybe a game of truth or dare, hm? Just a little bit of lollygagging to get rid of his boredom.

So, when he asked— “Truth or Dare?”—

You made the horrible mistake of choosing dare.

His grin widened, all teeth.“Ohhh, you’re feeling bold tonight! How delightful! Now, let’s see…” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. You should have been nervous. You should have backed out. But you didn’t.

I dare you… to look into my eyes and not look away.”

Simple, right?

You almost laughed. Thats its? Thats all?

"Ah-ah, don’t look so relieved~! There’s a catch, of course. You must hold my gaze until I say you can look away. Break eye contact, and you lose."

You scoffed. What was he playing at? You weren’t afraid of a staring contest. Getting into position you held yourself steady as he looked overly excited.

For a while, it felt like a normal challenge. You stared, he stared, and time stretched between you both. But then… something changed. The air felt thicker. Your body heavier. You blinked once. It felt like it took longer than it should have to open your eyes again. You swallowed. Something felt off.

Your limbs felt distant like you weren’t quite inside your body anymore. You tried to look away—But your head wouldn’t move. "I...I-" "Tsk, tsk… You’re not trying to look away, are you? Ohh, but I can see that dazed look in your eyes already… how precious!" He started to scoot closer. Not fast. Not abrupt. No, he took his time, savoring the way your body twitched ever so slightly. How your breath caught, your fingers tightening into trembling fists against the floor. Your head refused to move. Your body felt so distant, like a marionette with cut strings, a doll that could only watch as its puppeteer inched nearer.

Your vision wavered, the edges blurring as if reality itself was losing focus. His eyes were all you could see. How could this happen? you were so sure he didn't have...any malicious...intent—huh...? What was going on...?—No, you hadn’t! You had to resist, you had to—"Mmm, that’s a good look on you… so unfocused, so lost…" He suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked, but the action felt slow, heavy, like your body was moving through water. You knew—somewhere, deep down—that this was wrong. That you should snap out of it. But… that was so difficult. Thinking was… so hard. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Only a quiet, dazed sigh.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, only for it to falter as your eyesight ripped away from him violently, a frustrated groan escaping you as you squeezed your eyes shut out of defiance. "Oh? You still have some fight left in you?" His voice slithered through the air, a mocking lilt woven into his amusement. How predictable. How pathetic. Impossibly close now, his presence, looming, suffocating—but when his hands cupped your cheeks, you knew there was no escape. His palms were cool, but his grip was unyielding.

"Really now, I thought you were smarter than this." His thumbs trailed lower, brushing over your lips with featherlight strokes. "Oh, my dear, sweet fool…" His voice dipped into a breathy murmur, mismatched eyes drinking in every flicker of your resolve. "...I wonder... how long will that last?"

His grip on your cheeks tightened—just enough for his thumbs to press against your skin, coaxing you, urging you—until your lashes fluttered. A sliver of light slipped through.

And the moment your gaze met his—

The air in your lungs vanished. And oh, how he grinned.

"Mmm… there it is."

His voice was nothing but a purr, smooth and saccharine as he drank in your struggle. His grip softened, shifting to cradle your face so delicately—as if he hadn’t just crushed your resistance in the palm of his hand.

"Much easier when you don’t fight, isn’t it?"

His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his tone mocking, indulgent—but there was something darker beneath it. "Go on, little puppet…" His breath ghosted over your lips as his mismatched eyes pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. "Be good for me, yeah?" He murmurs lowly Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours—slow, deliberate, consuming. A kiss meant to unravel, to claim. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, holding you there, grounding you— or perhaps, chaining you.

And when he finally pulled away, he didn’t need to command you to look at him this time.

Because you already were.

A single finger tapped lightly against your forehead as if to mock the emptiness settling in. His victory.

"See? Much better when you don’t think."

--

you guys, rate my hypnosis writing I need it!! These ideas are just sooo juicy.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

a new dawn begins | m.g. x gn!reader

“y/n! i have the best news ever!” mark screamed over the phone, needing to pull it away from the ear for a moment. you smiled to yourself as you replied, “and whats this amazing news that you’re willing to break my eardrums for?”

“okay, uh, actually i gotta show you. it’s super secret, so i’ll be over in like two minutes.” and before you could say anything the line went dead and you just shook your head. as hyper and energetic still since middle school, just less scrapes and bruises now.

a soft tapping caught your ears, it happened two more times in a row before it was followed by, “y/n! open the window!” you were on the second floor without a tree near by. confusion covered your face as your slid the window up to stick your head out the frame and down at mark’s beaming face.

“you can’t get-“ and your sentence died off when mark started hovering above the ground and then all the way up to your window. face to face with you, you were speechless.

“guess who got their powers!” mark whispered with controlled enthusiasm. you knew about his dad being omniman, and marks mentioned in the past that he should develop them too, but holy shit, seeing it in person was so much different.

“can i come in?” mark asked hesitantly. you were still quiet, trying to process the image before you. taking slow steps away from the sill, mark pushed himself in and let his feet his solid ground again. he bit into his bottom lip while watching you.

“surprise. i mean a surprise for both of us, cause i thought i wasn’t ever gonna get them, but i get how it’s a huge surprise for you. i mean you hardly believed me when i told you my dad was a freaking superhero…” mark trailed off, either not knowing what else to say or now nervous by your unannounced reaction. “are-are you mad at-at me?”

that caused you to blink twice and give a quick shake of your head, hands waving in front of you. “of course not. nothing about this makes me angry, also i wouldn’t have the right to be angry about it anyway, im just…processing very slowly.” making your way to your bed and sitting on the edge.

mark stayed near your window, keeping a distance between the both of you at the moment. a hand snuck into the back of his hair while his eyes focused to the floor, “i’m-i’m still me. you know.”

a smile to your lips, “of course you are mark. i-i think it just hit me.” brows pinching in the middle, “you…you have powers. you’ll probably want to go help people and put yourself in danger, and that makes me…it makes me feel nervous.” you admitted.

neither of you said anything for a beat, then mark joined you, the mattress dipping with his added weight. “you know, i don’t think i really thought that far ahead. i just got so excited that i’ll be like my dad, this is something i can join him on. i can bench press like, a whole building. i can fly anywhere in the world.”

you were watching his profile, his eyes sparkling with wonder of new possibilities. then a slight frown appeared on his face, “but you’re right. i’ll want to help people, this feels like a responsibility. i can’t just have these powers and not help.”

“and that’s very brave and selfless of you.” touching his shoulder, “i-i just want you to remember that you’re family and friends, we want to see you alive and happy. if you ever just need a break, there’s other hero’s that can handle it for the day. you don’t need to break yourself to keep everyone else together.”

[car-o-line]

HII wondering if you could do Matthew hallard as readers best friend when they were both in the orphanage?1?1?1 you could add anything else 😼 im not forcing ANYWAY HAVE A GOOD DAYAYAY

I literally SCREAMED I’m so excited to do a ppt request because chapter 4 was amazing, and because of my ppt brainrot I’ll do Kevin/Jack as well! AND I HOPE UR DAY IS JUST AS AMAZING AS THIS REQUEST🧡❤️💛

Being friends with Matthew/Kevin/Jack(before/after Doey)

Part 2 <3

Matthew Hallard:

Probably the nicest teenager anyone’s ever met tbh.

Whether you’re younger than him or around the same age as him he’ll treat you like his little sibling. There’s no stopping it.

Always puts your needs above his and he won’t compromise that at all.

Oh you’re thirsty? He suddenly has an apple juice box in his hand! Hungry? Well now he suddenly has a bag of chips in his backpack!

(They were supposed to be for him but shh)

Makes sure all your homework’s done, if not then he’ll scold you for it.

But then he’ll feel bad and help you do it.

If you were around his age you'd probably know about his parent’s accidents he couldn’t prevent.

If you were younger he’d save that topic for when you were older, if only he had time left.

He’d be worried sick when you were taken away because you were “sick”.

Once you came back you seemed hazy, it made him nervous so he held your hand just to let you know that he was there, until you were officially “adopted.”

Later he really found out through his own “sickness” what “adoption” meant.

He hates what the scientists did to you, did to him. It gives him a reason to keep going as Doey.

Kevin Barnes:

How??

Like actually how.

Kevin doesn’t know why he considers you his friend ngl.

The scientists were definitely interested in how you and Kevin got along without you running away from him.

They couldn’t care less about the friendship part but they want to know how it started.

It was easy actually, he randomly tackled you to the ground even though you’ve both never talked before.

You didn’t cry, or scream, instead you reacted like it was a game. Which it was, kind of.

Kevin won in the end because of his physical ability but you thought it was really fun!

So now every time he gets bored he tries to find you and tackle you again.

Other than that he cares for you in his own way.

Like when the scientist took you away because of your sickness?

He wouldn’t let go of your arm no matter how hard the scientists tried to pull.

And the more they did that the more times he’d yell at them that you were fine and didn’t need them.

But they got you when he was sleeping, and when he woke up a new toy appeared in the Playtime Facility.

He never saw you again, even after he was “adopted.”

Jack Ayers:

While he wasn’t an orphan he did go on a visit to the Playtime Factory.

He met you through there, he was really excited to make a new friend.

He asked you so many questions about the orphanage and the facility.

In exchange you got to ask him about his home life and how the outside was.

“You haven’t been outside?”

“This area is considered the outside silly!”

“Really..?”

He felt bad for you and suggested that his parents adopted you!

(they said no)

Instead you just took him to see “Home Sweet Home” and showed him your room.

Then Jacks trip to facility was over and he had to leave, but before that his family was watch the process of making Doey.

Jack leaned over the railings to have a closer look but fell into one of vat machines that were making dough.

But the last glimpse of his consciousness he saw a what looked to be a kid with h/c walking with a scientist to one of the offices.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hii!!! love ur works <333 if its not too much trouble, do you think you can make a scenario with the scarabia duo + first years with a reader who knows self defense?

like at one moment, reader would feel someone touch their shoulder so suddenly that they'd jump and throw a punch only to know it was someone close to them they had actually attacked. hope u get what im going on about here :0000

Ace Trappola:

Ace would like to say he knew you well, but your sudden mastering of the martial arts caught him off-guard. In a normal situation he’d definitely be laughing but he’s a little stunned, wondering how close he had come to one of your super moves taking him out. He makes a silent note not to mess with you unless he’s a safe distance away, thanking his lucky stars that it wasn’t him who had gotten humiliated like that.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is immediately admiring your skills, noting that it didn’t look like you had the muscles for such a move but that he should’ve never judged a book by its cover. He joins you in helping your unwitting victim off the ground, wondering if he should say something or let the awkward moment pass as you were clearly embarrassed. Finally, he can’t help but compliment your form, saying he felt relieved knowing you could defend yourself should anyone with nefarious intentions try to get the jump on you.

Epel Felmier:

Epel is immediately obsessed. How did you do that? What technique did you use? He wanted you to teach him, nearly stepping on the poor student still shell-shocked on the ground as he approached you. He was in NRC to master magic but it never hurt to know how to handle yourself in a physical fight as well, and you suddenly find yourself with a very eager student.

Jack Howl:

Jack takes a moment to process what he just saw, still staring at you before his eyes slowly drifted to the student who was now splayed unceremoniously on the ground. It wasn’t unusual for a person to work their muscles as well as their mind but Jack had never thought you were the type. He wanted to ask where you learned a move like that but suddenly felt tongue-tied when you apologized to him for the embarrassing display, looking away and mumbling the other student was more deserving of said apology than him.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek can’t help but think you have great instincts. It was clear from how quickly you laid the other student out that your body had reacted before your brain truly registered what happened, and it was a good survival skill to have. He loudly praised you for your actions while the other student remained disgruntled, with you apologizing for your actions AND Sebek rubbing the salt in their wound before they had even stood up again.

EXTRA:

Jamil Viper:

Jamil just gives a bland look to the student you had flipped to the ground like a pancake, since this wasn’t his mess to clean up and therefore, he was under no obligation to help. He sighed as you began to apologize when it seemed the student had been sneaking up on you specifically to scare you, meaning they only got what was coming to them. He noted that your skills were impressive though, and that he should never come up behind you without announcing himself a safe distance away first.

[goaskangel]

dad's bestfriend!nanami x reader

a/n...had really good ideas 4 this and it kinda WORKED OUT??? i fu want more lmk!! im a sucker for older dudes (and ONLy them) nanami will save us all EEK. also i see hiromi as y/n's father, that's what i had in mind writing this!!! THIS HAS SLIGHT CORRUPTION STUFF, LIL GUILT STUFF, LOTS OF KISSIINGGG

you usually paid no mind to the people your father brought over. mostly colleagues or just a few friends to drink and converse with in your shared apartment. one friend he’d seem to bring over a lot had caught your eye. as if his ever-changing ties and snug khakis weren’t enough to make you grin, his mannerism was much too attractive. greeting you respectfully, listening and chuckling to your rare comments and jokes to their discussion over drinks in the kitchen. getting comfortable to just speak to you while your dad’s out or busy with something, always listening with intent. 

it’s so sexy, you think, your hands up to your face as you lay to your side in bed. dreaming conscious thoughts of what his big hands would feel like on you, or the same breath he smokes out against your neck. your guilt no longer dragging you down after all this time. 

once, you sit close to him, smiling and trying to make your staring of his ringless finger unnoticeable. he wonders, aloud, how don’t you have a boyfriend? you shrug, “jus’ not very interested.” you smile when he chuckles, most likely at your thought process. part of you hopes he doesn’t ask what you're looking for because you’d go straight to overworked suited-men. skip over the blonde and big traits just to seem more vague. of course you were interested, you were interested the moment he mentioned he had no family. no wife, no kids. just focused on his work and drinks, a few cigars and baked goods. the absence of your father to run a quick errand wasn’t helping, your eyes zigzagged down his undone tie and exposed blue button-up, his blazer down beside him. you’d thought about taking the garment or increasing the loft’s heater just to see him get all worked up and hot but being this close to him gave you the same thrill. the topic of marriage came up.

“you shouldn’t wait too long, i waited too long.” he says with sincerity. 

“hehe. with all truth, mister, i think you’re doing it on purpose. you are handsome.”

he sits up at the title, a confused smile at his face, “yeah? i could say the same thing about you, pretty.”

god, if you were any worse, the first time he’d use that petname you would’ve pounced on him sooner. “dad says guys my age are after one thing and i agree. you wouldn’t disagree with my dad, would you?” your head tilts and waits for a response to your bratty remark. “well, i suppose your father knows a thing or two.” he nods, crossing his arms. your eyes trail again, watching the toned muscle flex casually against his rolled sleeve. you swallow the pool of spit in your mouth. 

“he’s strict, though. haven’t you noticed?” you get up from your seat and walk to pour yourself another glass of water, “doesn’t ever let me have anybody over.” 

“uh-huh.” his brown eyes stare at you intently to understand your point. 

“it gets lonely, mister.” instead of sitting back down, you stand right in front of him. placing your glass on the glass table. his arms now rest out on the table as he traces delicate circles on the rim of his half empty cup of whiskey. “i obviously can’t tell my dad that so i’m telling you and i just know you’d understand.” your hand rests atop his and slowly curls under his big palm.

he clears his throat of the sudden nervousness, “well, yes. i know that feeling all too well.” you hum a response when he turns his body to face you better. you mumble gently, “my dad won’t be home.” your hand squeezes him tighter. you notice how his brows furrow just the slightest bit as he lowers his head down, letting out a small sigh. but he doesn’t oppose it. doesn’t move when you lead his hand down to your hip, the tips of his fingers riding up your shirt. so pliable, his other resting hand now being guided up, up, up your shirt. his warm palm against your much softer skin. “won’t tell anyone, nanami.” 

his breathing is shaky and his eyes seem to have gotten heavier, but he scoots almost off the seat, to get closer. his vision glued onto the bump of where his hand is underneath your shirt, beneath the wire of your bra. 

“i’ll let you do anything you want to me.” fucking hell, you made this so fucking hard. 

“you’re damn irresistible.” he slurs through his teeth, swearing to himself that his mouth dried when you gripped his hand to squeeze the fat beneath your breasts. you feel dizzy, so good that he’s not resisting, that he can’t resist. he kneads and gropes the side of your hips and thighs, getting closer to your ass. impatiently, he stands and manhandles you closer to his bigger frame. you hear how his breathing’s stabilized but heavier, his expensive cologne finally hitting you when you lean up against his neck. he damn near groans when he gets his hands on you properly. dragging his hands on your back, pushing your body right against his much warmer one. your knees grow weak, if his grasp was any looser, you could’ve collapsed right on him. you take your arms and wrap them firmly against his broad shoulders and thick neck, moaning quietly against the veins under his ear. he feels his khakis getting tighter with every breath you take. a smile grows against your cheeks when you feel the slight stubble at his jaw, you kiss at it. 

still moaning between kitten licks against his mature skin, he turns to press his lips to yours. quick little pecks between breaths, he savors each one and quickly returns for more. the sour taste of his bitter whiskey intoxicating you from his much sweeter mouth.

“been..wanting..this..nana–mi..!” you can’t contain your grown obsession to which he shushes you. nodding slowly against your mouth while he keeps your head in place. when you pull away, you take his hands and lead him into your open bedroom. the idea of your father coming home slowly fading the closer you got what you wanted. you got so eager when he sat you on the edge of your bed, standing between your hanging legs. your hands wanting to hold onto his belt, to slowly unbuckle it but he caught them beforehand, kissing and sucking on your soft wrists and forearms. his lips find their way to your neck and ear where he whispers. 

“it's wrong, i know. so, so wrong, but my god…” he holds onto your neck and carefully grinds himself into your clothed cunt, making you arch your back and buck your hips into him, whining. you could cry from all the teasing he’s doing. “shouldn’t be doing this, sweetheart…dad can’t know, okay?” he keeps his now firm bulge against you. you moan another cry and kiss him again a bunch, nodding, rubbing tongues and messing up the gel in his blonde hair. the very open door reveals the sound of clinking keys and chains, doors opening and closing. too dizzy and much too dazed to even frown, you just stare into his soft brown eyes. they get farther away as he gently lets you go, kissing your temple for good measure before heading to the bathroom, leaving you with shaking legs. hopefully his plans of staying over stays the case.

masterlist

[luvrxbunny]

fangs

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Summary: You see Miguel’s fangs for the first time. 

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fangs, very minimal self-doubt, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.9k

A/N: I used google translate for the spanish so if anything is incorrect im sorry 

‘Your package was delivered’

Your face brightens at the notification as you hop out of bed and rush to the front door. When you open it you’re met with the broad, muscular back of your boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara.

“Miggy?” You say with a laugh. “What are you doing out here? Oh my god, are you my package?!” You’re hunched over, laughing at your own joke as Miguel stands from his seated position, casting his large shadow over you. 

“Hi, amor.” He places a kiss on your forehead and walks in. “How has your day been?” He asks as he strips off his suit top and walks to the bedroom but you don’t answer, still wondering about something. 

“Why were you just sitting out there?” You ask while closing the front door and taking your slippers off. Miguel hasn’t said anything, letting a long pause draw out before answering.

“I was calming down.” He comes back out in a t-shirt that’s tighter than it needs to be and some gray sweatpants. 

“The fight was pretty intense, a little demanding y’know? So I just wanted to- I wanted to calm down before coming inside… But how was your day?” You don’t let the subject change, still confused with his statement. 

There have been plenty of times when Miguel would burst in, still aggressive and amped up from the latest fight, adrenaline still coursing through him. The first time it happened you were a little scared of course, you’d never seen him like that, eyes clouded with violence, his claws out in the air and threatening, with a deep scowl on his face. But that was a long time ago.

You’ve mastered the art of turning him from Spider-Man to Miggy. You learned it quite some time ago, which just furthers your confusion from his response. He’s rummaging through the cabinets, muttering about how he’s starving and you realize he hasn’t met your gaze since you found him which is incredibly unlike him. 

“Miguel, is that the truth? I mean- You’ve come in all amped up before so…” You trail off as Miguel freezes in the kitchen before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He closes the cabinet gently and turns to you, eyes cast downward before meeting yours. He takes another breath and walks to you. “It’s the technical truth uh… The whole truth is that my fangs were out and… I just- I don’t want you to see them.” He finishes his sentence and walks past you, to the bathroom and closes the door. 

You stand at the entrance to the kitchen in a stupor as you process his words and go chasing after him. You’re pounding on the bathroom door, begging him to let you see them, to let you kiss him with them out, and every other thought that comes to your mind, hoping it lightens the situation. You stop pounding after a few minutes, arms growing tired and getting a little embarrassed at his silence. You make your way over to the couch as you wait for him. 

You think about what he said, that he doesn’t want you to see his fangs and you feel a little pang of hurt in your heart that ripples through your body. 

He doesn’t want me to see them? Why though… Does he think I won’t like them? Does he think my opinion of him will change or something? I love him though, doesn’t he understand that?? Maybe it’s something super intimate, maybe he just doesn’t feel enough for me, for him to expose himself like that. Maybe he doesn’t trust me enough to be that vulnerable, to give all of him to me… 

Your thoughts turn your mood sour as Miguel finally emerges from the bathroom, teeth brushed and face newly washed. “I don’t want to show them to you.” The words strike your heart again as you nod your head at him, not even looking up at him as you fall into your negative thoughts. He watches you stare into the carpet, obviously deep in thought but you look sad. 

“You okay, hermosa?” He wipes his hands in the towel around his neck as he sits beside you on the couch. You don’t hear him, too inside your own head, leaving him ignored. He watches you for a bit before grabbing one of your thighs and turning your body to face him, knocking you out of your trance. You have a deep, heartbreaking expression on your face that you quickly mask with happiness when your eyes meet his. “I asked if you were okay, baby.” 

“Oh! Y-yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” You giggle at him but it sounds hollow, making him guilty. He already knows why, he knows how your mind works, he knows how you think. He pulls you in, one leg is extended past him and the other is folded on the couch, touching his leg, your face a few inches from his. 

“Mi cariño, no tiene nada to do with you, okay? Nothing. I just-” He emphasizes ‘nothing’, willing you to believe him. He’s absently rubbing your calf as he tries to piece together what he wants to say. “They’re weapons. I feel like… I don't think I want you to see that… A part of me that’s a weapon. You look at me like… como si fuera tu todo, like I hung the stars… I love that and I don’t want it to change. Nunca quiero que eso cambie.” His eyes are looking at your calf, how his hand wraps around it instead of you. 

(“My love, it has nothing to do with you okay?” “...like I'm your everything…” “I never want that to change.” )

If he had been looking at you he would’ve seen the look of utter disbelief that rested on your face. You put your hand over his and pull yourself closer to him, placing a kiss on his forehead before speaking. “Miguel, I look at you that way because, despite the way you feel about yourself, I believe that you deserve every good thing the world has to offer. I want you to know that you don’t have to show them to me if you really don’t want to but be aware… I will love you for the rest of my life.. and there is nothing that can change that, my feelings for you literally cannot decrease.” 

He stays silent, avoiding your gaze still but you let him. You know that expressing himself is hard for him and hearing people speak positively to him is even harder. You giggle softly at his silence and place another kiss on his head. You’re about to get up from the couch when he pulls you back in, pressing his lips to yours with a bruising intensity that has a fire starting up in your stomach. Your lips part for him as he sighs into you, his hand grips your hair and he grunts as you feel something push against your mouth. He’s breathing faster, kissing you more passionately as you try to pull away. 

Eventually, you break from his grasp and try to look at him but he’s already turned from you. You want to protest but don’t want to push him. You bring one of your hands to rest at his nape, playing with some of the hairs there, trying to soothe him. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t need to turn away, you can leave until he’s calmed down but he turns to you. His mouth is shut but his eyes are so fragile, like they’re pleading with you to be gentle. He holds your eye contact for a bit before opening his mouth in a smile-grimace expression. 

A gasp slips from your mouth and your hands come up to hold his face, pulling it to yours. You inspect his fangs as his warm breath floats over your face. You bring one hand from his face to tail over one of them, earning a flinch from Miguel but you run your other thumb across his cheek, attempting to soothe his worries. 

They’re much bigger than you expected, they look like they’d barely fit in his mouth. They’re smooth and glossy like marble, cleaner than you expected too. You wonder silently if he lets them come out, brushes them, and then retracts them as your other hand comes from his cheek to his mouth. They’re thick, they look like they could leave a sizeable puncture wound if he bit you. Your fingers squeeze around both fangs, feeling their width for yourself. Your fingers run along the length of his fangs and then go up to his gums. 

You’re completely captivated by his teeth, you haven’t even looked back up at him since he opened his mouth. You absently caress his fangs while inspecting his gums, trying to understand where they go when retracted. You give up on that when your thumb runs over the bottom of his fangs. 

He groans out, loud and ragged against your face. 

Your eyes flicker up to look at him and his eyes are rolled back into his head, eyebrows furrowed as he moans out a loose rendition of your name. You’re staring at him in awe as he mutters out a mix of unfinished words. You immediately look down into his lap and see a patch of dark gray spreading out. 

A moan rips from your throat as you press your hand against his hard, twitching, leaking cock and kiss him. His hips instantly twitch up into your hand, using the friction to prolong his orgasm. He’s moaning into your mouth, his hands are frantic as they push your head into his face, his fangs digging into your lips almost painfully. You slide your tongue into his mouth when he moans again, you explore it, feeling the fangs instantly and running your tongue over them. 

The action earns a gut-wrenching whine from Miguel as he starts to tremble. His hips are still bucking up into your palm, overstimulating himself as his cock spurts out mini loads. 

You pull away from him slowly, your hand gently massaging his cock as he comes down. He drops his head onto your shoulder as he pants, unsteady syllables of your name falling from his lips. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder once his cock stops jumping in your hold. There’s a rare pink hue over his face as he leans in to kiss you. You accept it with a smile, kissing him back before pulling away again. 

“So…” You start semi-awkwardly, a light laugh in your tone as he groans out, embarrassed. “Did that feel good? Are they sensitive?” A shuddering breath leaves him as he recalls how your fingers felt gliding over his fangs, how arousal punched into his gut the moment you touched them. 

“Yeah… It felt-” His sentence is cut off with a whisper of a whine as he thinks about it, breathing speeding up, chest heaving at the fresh memory. You’re surprised at this, you’ve never seen him so delirious so… fucked out. “Me sentí tan bien, bebé. N-no sabía que me sentía así. I loved it so much, you made me feel so fucking good, amor. Te amo tanto, cariño.” 

(“I felt so good, baby. I-I didn't know I felt like that”... “I love you so much, darling.”)

A smile graces your face at the one phrase you understand, ‘Te amo’. You pull him in for another kiss before whispering. “Good.” He groans and pulls you into his lap, whining when your weight presses against his sensitive cock. You smile into his lips and kiss him again, pulling away again to giggle at him. 

“ ‘S not funny.” He grumbles out as he leans back, laying down on the couch with you on top of him. You continue giggling into his neck and you can feel his cheeks fatten up with his smile. 

You guys stay there for the rest of the night, intermittently waking up to smother the other in kisses before falling back to sleep. 

Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

[pearlzier]

︵︵ DAY TWO ﹐ OVERSTIMULATION ☆

ᰍִ ꒰ KINKTOBER. ִ✧ㅤㅤ masterlist

NOTES .ᐣ why do i do this to myself LMFAOO im far too busy to be doing kinktober but here we are..... ana makes a decision and regrets it immediately after :3 but haii chris is so fine

WARNINGS .ᐣ overstimulation. oral (f!recieving). dom!chris. sub!reader. afab!reader. breast play. use of pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, babe etc.)

"TASTE SO GOOD, BABY, FUCK," chris had practically been latched onto your cunt the moment he'd walked in and put his bags down—he'd barely given you time to process the fact he was back as he'd spread your legs wide and settled himself between within record time. god, he'd missed the taste of you, it'd been far too long away from it. sure, he missed the feeling of your cunt taking him so perfectly when he fucked you, or the warmth of your mouth when you suckd him off, but nothing compared to making you feel good like this with his head between your thighs.

his excuse was he'd been away from you with matt and nick for about a week. the two of you had obviously phoned, messaged, that kind of thing, but it wasn't enough. chris didn't go away much, he stayed at home more often than not, and being away from you? it took a lot out of him. so he was more than a little desperate to get his hands on you when he'd finally gotten back to the house. and now he was on you again? impossible to get him off.

"shit, chris," it's hard to talk with the rhythmic bumping of chris' nose against your clit, his tongue gliding through your wet folds and lapping up your juices as much as he possibly could. it's like he doesn't even need to breathe, it's insane. he hadn't gone up for air in.. what, a while? it felt like forever. especially for you, considering you're the one getting all the pleasure from it. judging from how he's humping the bed, however, maybe he's getting off on it too. "oh my god," you're lost for damn words.

"such a pretty pussy, mmh, missed this so bad," you're surprised he can talk as fluently as he is with his face pressed up against your warmth. "got withdrawal, y'know? can actually result in death if i don't eat you out at least once every few days," he was a fiend. absolutely obsessed with the taste of you and making you feel good. the death grip on your thighs tells you absolutely everything, this man is living his best life right there and he isn't moving. certified eater, whatever you wanted to call it, but he's between your thighs and you're just gonna have to suck it up and ride it out. "can you breathe?"

he lifts his head a little, "just fine, ma," before he starts kissing and sucking at your clit, completely flooring any plans you'd had of speaking with just a few suckles of his mouth. chris doesn't care about getting messy, how your juices trickle down his chin and the way his lips get a little puffy from working so hard, he'd do this over and over again just to see you happy. his soft moans send vibrations through you, starting at your clit in his mouth before running up your body in a burst of warmth.

it's when he starts circling your entrance with his fingers that you actually realise how long the two of you are gonna be here. you'd wondered whether this was just gonna be foreplay and he'd ease his cock inside of you soon enough but the introduction of his fingers met he was gonna be entertaining himself with you a lot longer than you'd thought. not that you mind, you're just as here for it as he is. "chris," you let out, a whiny sound, when he finally pushes his fingers into you with a little thrust forward.

he looks up at you, then, his blue eyes dilated to the point of being near black, all the while paying attention to your sensitive bundle of nerves whilst his fingers slowly ease inside of you. "so fuckin' wet, baby. all for me? shit, musta' missed me so much.." he's not even paying attention to how his fingers start to thrust in and out of you, it's all muscle memory by now. he's done this whole thing so many times with you he could do it with his eyes closed, with one hand, whatever you wanted.

"missed you so bad," you whisper, shamelessly sliding your hand upwards on your chest under your shirt to grasp your tit in your hand, rolling your fingers over your nipples as you knead the soft flesh. chris groans at the sight of that, only urging him to keep going. his fingers curl upwards towards that sweet spot inside you, brushing up against it and making the purposeful motion of rubbing against it with every movement. your fingers tighten around your nipples, and you cry out a soft sound, hips instinctively bucking towards his face.

"keep playing with your tits f'me, baby," chris mumbles into your pussy, his lips wet and slick with your arousal as he runs his tongue over you. "that's it.. makin' me jealous, honey, might have t'pay attention t'em in a second." you squeeze your breasts together, thumbs rolling over your hard buds and making your cunt pulse as chris continues eating you out. "m'gonna.." you could feel your orgasm hurtling itself towards you, not sneaking up on you, no, it wanted you to know it was coming. the wet squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of you, curled against your sweet spot, it makes your head spin.

"gonna come all over my face?" chris asks, only lapping at you in sloppier, messy motions. "gonna make a mess for me? go on then, sweetheart, there we go," he growls, and the vibrations manage to send you over the edge, your thighs trembling around his face and squeezing him there so he wouldn't move away. not that he'd dream of it, anyway, but just a precaution. "taste so good, soaking my face," you'd expect chris to move away from your oozing pussy once he'd helped you through your orgasm, but he's not deterred by suffocating in your juices, he only keeps going.

"chris, i—" you go to speak, to tell him you need a moment, but he gives you a tight squeeze of your ass and a few rougher pumps of his fingers to tell you that, well—"m'not finished, baby, so you gotta wait till m'done," he wasn't finished with you, there was no time to lose, he had to pull another orgasm out of you again, and again, and again. he was making up for his time away from you, after all. so, he kept going.

"too much, too.." you gasp, the familiar feeling of an orgasm building up once more. your head's spinning a little, fuzzy from your first climax blending into the upcoming second one. "you can give me another one, right, babe? c'mon, i ain't asking for much, just another one," he wants to feel your cunt twitch in his mouth, your sticky pussy against his face after coming for him a million times over. he's not asking for much, right? "gonna give me another one," he tells you, like he's already decided.

you're whining, bottom lip quivering as he continued his assault on your cunt. "feels too good, i can't.." you don't know whether you could take any more after this, coming a second time seemed like enough. you're subconsciously grinding yourself against his face, which makes chris smile. "sayin' you can't take anymore but you're fuckin' yourself on my face, huh? you lyin' to me?"

"not lying, no, no.. just.." another whine escapes you when he laughs, a mixture of embarrassment and the feel of the vibration causing you to let out that sweet sound. chris was relentless, he wouldn't stop until he had you trembling due to him once again. "s'gonna happen again, m'gonna come, shit, shit, shit—" his fingers curl further, and he starts to lick around your fluttering hole where his fingers are to get you over that edge once more.

"come for me, baby, there we go, wasn't hard, was it? you could take more. can take more," he rambles, moving away from you for a moment to give you some much needed reprieve. his tongue makes gentle circles against your inner thigh now, something to occupy him as your thighs shook and you recovered from your second orgasm within the span of a few minutes. but, he's not satisfied for long. "you ready?"

"ready for what..?" you ask, voice a little breathy and weak from how spent you were. your eyes meet his, hands grasping at your tits still almost in comfort, and chris scoffs quietly at your question as if it was dumb to ask. "you're gonna come on my tongue 'n' fingers again, and then m'gonna fuck you on my cock. so hold on tight, would you?"

yeah, you were gonna be here for a while.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @bbittenapples, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @fallbhind, @beausling, @eternaldecisions, @httqvi, @gibson-g1rl, @zayluvss, @angelssdreamss, @gxldenlush ִ ꒱

[insertdisc5]

hihi!!! i absolutely adore isat and it inspired me to start making my own rpgmaker game, so i had a quick question for you! if you haven't talked about it before, how did you personally go about finding a publisher? im pretty early in my own development process but it just seems like a daunting thing to find one :o

i hope you have a wonderful day!!! :3

I'm so good at bideo game that they came to ME (sparkles) thanks start again a prologue for showing publishers I can do game good

Here's some advice for finding publishers tho (source: I have eyes, and I've taken classes about this):

-first, ask yourself: why do you need a publisher? Money, marketing, producing, all of the above? There are lots of options out there that aren't getting a publisher. You can just hire a producer (like my producer Dora Breckinridge <3)

-have a pitch ready!!!! you can find examples of pitches online, but I highly recommend looking at the Bear & Breakfast one for example. At the very least you should have concept art, if not mockups of what the game could look like, if not actual screenshots

-making a good pitch is art. Highly recommend having someone look it over. Rami Ismail has consultations available just for that purpose and he knows his stuff (all the advice I have comes from him! I took a great class of his a couple months ago)

-once you have a pitch ready, email it to literally every publisher out there. yes I know you're making an rpg and this publisher is only looking for platformers, but send it to them anyway. They will not blacklist you for this lol, worst case scenario is that they won't look at it.

-if you get zero answers, redo your pitch. If you get a couple, that's the ticket. Look at their offers and take the best one. Only say no to the others once you got that shit signed. If you get a BUNCH of answers, it means your idea rules and you could probably self publish it and don't need a publisher. But take one anyway if you want (especially for your first game!)

-having a vertical slice is always good for pitching, but not always needed? (AKA a slice of your game that shows off the story, gameplay, etc... aka shows you know how to do this)

-once you get a publisher contract, ASK A VIDEO GAME LAWYWR TO LOOK IT OVER. NOT JUST A LAWYER. A VIDEO GAME LAWYER. ITS YOUR BABY!!! FUCKING DO IT

-you should probably add a clause about if the publisher goes down. Reminder also that the video game industry is in shambles right now. Manage your expectations

-you can also self publish. It is a thing you can do. Patreon is here. Kickstarter is here. You have options!!! If you can't get a publisher it's not the end of the world!!!!!!

-I'm just a humble dev and those are my own humble thoughts as someone who got very lucky with their publisher. Armor Games was very good to me during the dev of isat!

[mysteryfawn]

AUHAUHA YOUR WRITING IS SO!!!!!!!!!! WONDERFUL!@!!!!!!!!!!!! im tearing u p that was absolutely cinema i i ,,, Oh my blouse 💐💐💐💐💐💐 ...... if you could and do not mind, perhaps a(nother) chance fic where he tries his beest to impress the reader ,, but it doesnt really impress them - the reader just shrugging it off as an act of kindness! i like chance i /SILLUAYA

AAAA SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! had so many tests this week uwahhhh!! hope you like it chance anon !! :3

BANG! A bullet ripped through Jason’s arm, the sound loud enough to reach the ears of all the survivors close and far. You opened your eyes, relieved not to feel the chainsaw dig into your head again.

Releasing a breath you held for so long, you didn’t process that you had to run, as the killer in front of you was only stunned for a moment, but you didn’t have to worry, as your saviour remembered.

Grabbing your arm, Chance bolted the other way with you, making sure he didn’t put too much pressure on you, but enough to keep you by his side. “Almost died there!” The gambler chuckled, looking behind him to admire your surprised expression.

“Thanks, Chance!” Exclaiming, you started catching your breath as you both hid behind a wall, Chance taking peeks every so and then to confirm you weren’t followed. “That was some quick thinking… I thought I was done for-” You spoke, but was interrupted by the anxious man in front of you, “It’s no problem! Just what friends do, ya’ know?”

Truthfully, the casino owner was screaming internally from the compliment, convinced they had made you proud with their skills. For him, it was his first win… Chance had been trying to impress you for maybe 2 months, protecting you in every way they could.

No matter what they’ve done, body blocking, giving you all their supplies, gifting you flowers, baking for you, helping you clean your cabin… It never got through your head that they were in love with you.

It drove him crazy, but he was determined to continue, not wanting to give up just yet (or ever). Your smiles, laughs, voice, body, personality, habits, mindset, and everything else are addicting to him. They would feel all red and shy around you but quickly pick up their usual flirty personality to cover that.

Focusing on the present, a soft breeze hit the both of you, waking up Chance from his accidental daydream. “[Y/N]… You need to wake up.” The gambler muttered, his phrase having a double meaning, but of course, you only understood one.

“Hey, I was just done being chased! My adrenaline fell off, no need to be so mean!” You defended, whisper-shouting because none of you know if Jason is near. Chance smiled smugly, but his heart was beating fast for what he was about to do.

Holding your hand, the casino owner looked into your puzzled eyes, “Dumbass.” was the last word you heard before their lips met yours softly, causing you to close your eyes and lean into the kiss.

Pulling out of it, Chance glazed at you again, observing your blushing and surprised face, before chuckling, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that.”

[sweetsbylia]

cruel world

pairing: finnick o’dair x district12!victor!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of: forced prostitution, violence, and death but not described, established relationship, kissing, pet names (sweetheart, love, honey etc.), one slightly dirty joke, other characters mentioned, usual thg stuff, set in catching fire

a/n: uhhhhh i’ve been writing this for two weeks now, just couldn’t get myself to finish it, it’s here now tho so enjoy!!! ALSO IM THINKING ABOUT MAKING THIS A SERIES WHAT DO WE SAY?? (divider by @dollywons)

word count: 4.6k

finnick o’dair thought that he will never feel worse than when he was reaped for his games, barely at fourteen years old having to fight for his life in an arena with twenty three other kids. when he won his games and had to live with the heavy weight of the lives he took or when he was being sold and used by the capitol ever since he was fifteen.

that all changed when finnick met her. the love of his life with the same fate. a victor that was desirable for capitol’s citizens. a big mistake. he felt horrible whenever she was pulled from his arms to be used by violent, greedy men.

the feeling that beat those was when the quarter quell was announced. finnick he was the only male victor in district four and when mags, his mentor, volunteered as tribute for his friend annie cresta it was even worse.

finnick put on the typical mask of arrogance and pride, smiling into the cameras while his eyes hid fear and worry, his mind begging for his girlfriend not to volunteer, as he watched the screen from the justice building in his district.

“as always ladies first.” effie said into the microphone, cameras pointing at her face as they finally streamed the last of the twelve district. it was different this time, sadder. everyone was confused, heartbroken and angry.

katniss’s name was called and before anyone had the time to process it, the only other remaining female victor immediately raised her hand.

“i volunteer.”

finnick’s vision went black, he suddenly felt nauseous and sick. he didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or hold her and never let her go. probably both.

the train ride was a lot less calmer than two years ago, when you were reaped at sixteen years old, as a tribute for your district.

the setting was quite familiar, really, haymitch was trying to drink himself into oblivion as always, effie was speaking about manner and being a team, peeta was quiet probably bracing the probability of death more than last year and you were thinking about finnick. what he’s gonna say, what are you gonna say, everything.

you wouldn’t really blame him if he was gonna get mad at you. you would too. you had the chance to not go back, yet you decided you will. although, you knew finnick would do the same in your place, katniss had a family she had to take care of, you had only finnick and friends, that all were going to the arena as well, making you wonder, how could anyone think you’d stay home and just watch? a lot of people would, but not you.

the train finally stopped in the capitol and from the window you saw people on the station, screaming and cheering and waving, greeting you and peeta. you just gave a fake smile, before disappearing behind the curtains again and following after effie to the exit.

deep breaths. in and out. your brain repeated to you, as you walked through the familiar hallway, hand in hand with peeta, showing each other support, through a little gesture.

“they all know each other, have been friends for years which gives you two a disadvantages since y’re newbies, try to make a good impression and allies, that is the most important.” he warned looking straight at you and not at peeta at all.

“but- that makes no sense, getting too close to them will just give them an opportunity to kill us right away.” you argue with your mentor.

“sweetheart, if you two stay alone, they’re gonna hunt y’ down, immediately. say what’cha want but i know these people.”

“how can we even trust them?” you throw your arms defensively, sitting on the chair, in between your blonde friend and effie.

“hey, c’mon…” peeta tried to convince you. of course he thought that your trust issues were valid, but he also understood that if you wanted to live at least after the bloodbath, you’d have to make alliances with some of the other victors.

“it’s not about trust it’s about staying alive.” haymitch gave you a strict, pointed look, ending the debate, placing the empty glass that smelled of whiskey, back at the table.

after the talk with haymitch you both were send to your quarters before your prep teams would call you and discuss the opening ceremony.

the elevator felt too small, too slow and too hot to keep your nerves in check. you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down until seeing finnick, yet everything around you was making it even more unbearable, the feeling of being pressed together into a little ball, like the walls would close around your body, squishing you together.

“see you later?” your blond district partner’s voice echoed in your ear, taking you out of your thoughts and you give him a brief nod of agreement as an answer. if it was not for him maybe you wouldn’t even notice that the elevator’s door clicked open at your destination.

walking into your room, you slump on the bed, diving back into your restless mind. the room was just so capitol like. modern and luxurious, brightly coloured. a king sized bed places in the very middle of the chamber, a lone painting of the city’s skyline hung on the wall, soft carpet covered the first three feet of a measure from the edge of the bed so coldness of the floor would not be the first thing waking you up in the morning as if to make up for the coldness of the room on it’s own. there was nothing personal, nothing idiosyncratic that would make it imperfect, that would make it human and feel like home.

the swirls of your own brain would maybe swallow you whole if there was not a knock on the door and then a face of your district’s escalator appeared.

“sweetie, be ready in few down at the hall, pleas. also, special someone is waiting for you.” effie smiled, and her eyes held a sparkle of mystery. oh, how much she rooted for you and finnick, how much she rooted for katniss and peeta. she tried to hide it, but you were an observant person and the lessening ignorance from her was just making you like her more but you understood the importance of keeping up a mask.

“thank you, effie.” sparing her a small smile, watching her leave, you walked toward the mirror that decorated one part of the wardrobe’s door. you fixed the mess your two braids had become and tied the bows of ribbon on each side again. it was there to ground you. maybe you were crazy, but that little flashes of colour in the grey and dusty district you grew up in, were giving you hope. hope that not everything was black and white and that there was a way out. you hoped they would work the same in here. to remind you where you’re from, that fighting is a second nature to you.

impatiently stepping, from foot to foot, in the elevator you waited for it to get to zero. you didn’t know why you felt so sick. you did this before. you can do it again, right? maybe if finnick’s fallen, worried face wasn’t the first thing you saw when the elevator let you into the lobby, where prep teams were supposed to pick up their victors in no time, those affirmations would’ve been more affective. just maybe.

puffing out your chest, straightening your back, and walking towards the group of much older and skilled victors with confidence seemed like a good idea second ago, the other second when enobaria pierced through you with her gaze, not so much. you had a deep respect for that woman.

swallowing down you walk up to the other duo standing there. you counted five victors in total, which was not much, but you assumed others were or requested to be escorted from their private rooms. few meters from the career pack, there was no one other than finnick with mags next to him.

finnick chatted with his career co-victors for a while, trying to appear as indifferent and as charming as he always is. there was no way for him and you to be in a public relationship, no. it’s been just a secret between you and your closest friends. you did try to hide it from snow, but he found out in a matter of weeks anyway. surprisingly he let it slide, a thought forming in his head how great of a extortion method this could be for him.

“i won’t look into what you do in private, but for everyone else, you and her have to appear available and willing, mr. o’dair.” snow’s voice ringed in finnick’s head often, killing him from the inside like a parasite.

a good way to describe president snow, who always found ways to hurt and destroy more and more. increasingly often you and finnick found yourselves escorted at the capitol from your districts, to satisfy the greedy clients that simple objectified and violated you, leaving you feel used and dirty.

finnick had a comforting arm around mags’ shoulders, few moments after excusing himself from the conversation with the other careers, waiting for their prep teams. a familiar sounding footsteps echoed through the room, familiar scent lined through the air as you neared him, finnick adverted his eyes from mags’ looking up so he was met with a warm, soft but confident gaze of his lover.

he wanted to run to you, take you into his arms and kiss you senseless. instead he just gave you that warm smile, waiting. he was still upset about earlier events but also incredibly understanding and content to see you alive.

giving a brief nod of acknowledgment to the careers you hurried to hug finnick, while trying to make it look like he wasn’t the love of your life or something.

“finnick.” you breath out loud in relief almost, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his muscular arms envelop you once again after all the long weeks of being out of reach, just relaying on a belief the other one was safe.

“my love…” he whispered softly, almost inaudibly so no one would hear, but you did and that was enough.

he didn’t wanted to pull away from you, almost felt like he physically couldn’t until you did, leaning back, taking away the warmth you provided for the brief moment the embrace lasted.

“hi mags.” you greet mags, the wonderful old lady you’ve grown so much to, finnick’s mentor and the female tribute for district four. she returned your hug, giving you a smile, her gentle motherly hand brushed your cheek.

the next day the training began, you were given your training suits and alongside peeta, you walked into the training room. so similar to how you remembered it. the survival stands, fighting matts and of course simulators, for archery, knife throwing, sword fighting and much else.

you part ways with your district partner, for now, walking around slowly, trying your hardest to smile at the other occupants of the room, but most, just hissed or glared at you, until by the corner of your eye, you caught those crazy geniuses from the third district or whatever haymitch said, struggling to make a fire.

“you should move your hands downward and faster.” you try to advice putting a smile on your face, as you tried unnoticeably take a closer look at the pair, sitting down next to them, watching beetee try again.

“a little brutal force..” wiress gasped as she saw the smoke coming out of the wood.

“is always helpful. thank you.” beetee finished the line for his district partner and smiled at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose.

“by the corner of the table.” the female tribute whispers mysteriously, making you look up at the balcony, the gamemakers watched you from like hawks analysing their preys. you squint your eyes trying to figure out what was wiress talking about, so you ask.

“plutarch?” the head gamemaker had talked to you, at the victor’s party very briefly, few momths ago, but wiress shook her head and beetee seemed to be only remaining from the trio to catch on what his co-victor was talking about.

“force field.”

“how do you know?” you ask curious, scanning the area, but you just didn’t know what to catch onto.

“the shimmering. top left side.” beetee explained lightly turning your head towards the imperfect edge of the figurative border, “you see it?”

you nod along, fascinated by the occurrence. “almost like glass.” you commented.

“it separates them from us.” wiress sighed and you frowned knowingly.

“i know who’s fault that is..”

“electro-magnetic.” beetee stated after analysing the force field for few another seconds.

“how can you tell?” you ask again, confusion settling in your expression a they laughed. “is it obvious or something?” you pout almost as they giggled some more while you were trying to figure pit if there was something you were missing.

“they might as well put a sign there.” wiress laughed some more as beetee tried to explain it to you.

“look around, the holograms, the lights, every once a while, they flicker. why?”

“because the force field is taking up too much energy.” you answer, nodding understandingly, feeling a little better after seeing his pleased smile at your correct answer.

“there’s always a flaw in the system.”

and that made you think for few seconds, just about how true that was, but before you could dive too deep into those waters, by the corner of your eye, you caught mags, making fish hooks. you excuse yourself politely, from the district three victors and made your way towards the eldest mentor and this years tribute.

your gaze scanned over her creations. you knew how to make those, because finnick taught you some time ago, it came in handy a lot, you just wanted an excuse to talk to her.

“volunteering for annie was really brave.” you say standing next to her, giving her a soft encouraging smile.

mags just shook her head, her gentle hand touching your chest, which was your answer. you knew what she meant. that she admired your bravery to volunteer for your best friend instead.

before you had a chance to say anything else, finnick appeared behind you with a trident and a rope in his hand, grinning, like he was having the time of his life.

“you know this is the best knot you can know in the arena.” the blonde said hanging a noose around his neck.

you just gave him an unimpressed look but barely could fight back the smile as you were looking at him, knowing full well that was his only intention beside showing off.

“don’t look at me, look at the knot.” he chuckled as he tried to lecture you, dramatically tugging on the end of the rope, towards you.

“hilarious.” you comment, crossing your arms over your chest, but an amused smile was plastered on your face, reaching your eyes even.

“do you wanna take me for a walk?” finnick cocked his eyebrow, while keeping his tone light, his bronze waves already were a mess after his training, and maybe you even would if it wasn’t for the given circumstances so you just roll your eyes over him coyly, walking past him, for your chosen weapon to train more your skills.

“oh, really?” you heard finnick’s voice call behind you and you just had to smile for yourself before focusing on the task at hand again.

“good news.” haymitch walked into the lounge room of their floor that peeta and you were occupying, stopping right in from of the couch you were sitting on.

“more than half of the tributes want you as their ally.” haymitch said, arms folded over his chest, but what he said, was meant as a praise, he was relieved you made a good impression.

“well they saw her fight.” peeta said, standing next to haymitch, mentioning how you left everyone speechless at the training earlier today after showing your chosen skill in full swing.

“well sweetheart, who’s your pick?” haymitch asked expectantly before muttering under his breath. “beside o’dair of course..”

“i want wiress and beetee.” you say without much thinking, blinking as you saw haymitch’s expression shift ever so slightly.

“johanna calls them nuts and voltes.” your district partner comments, not so sure with your choice of allies.

“well honey, who’s else?” haymitch tried again, his last hopes mirroring in his eyes.

“mags.” you shrug softly almost pouting at the looks you have gotten from your mentor and co-tribute.

haymitch swallowed, hard. looking at peeta who was right now rethinking all his life choices before looking back at you.

“i’ll tell them y’re still makin’ up your mind.” he settled on before walking back towards the elevator.

soon enough the prep teams plugged out their victor, to make them look as significant as attractive and as glorious as they can. you were waxed off of all your additional body hair beside those on your head. they bathed you, scrubbed and soaped up your body with the expensive products that held rich scents of vanilla, strawberries and sweet cakes.

it didn’t take more than hour before cinna walked through the door of the room where you were supposed to wait for him.

“cinna..” you hug him, your hair still wet. he was the first person from the capitol, you ever trusted. he was a great stylist and even greater man. as a stylist for district twelve, he dressed both you and katniss for your games.

breathtaking, mesmerising, magnificent, enchanting and just simply beautiful. all those words could describe the dress you wore. white, wedding like, but incredibly revealing even if they were floor length. that’s how you first would call it, they wanted you to be desirable. you knew why. you knew it was all president snow, teasing, poking and provoking. it was just so him.

“and if i die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.” you watched finnick say on the stage, next to caesar flickerman, and god did it sounded so fake. the audience swooned, some of the other victors beside you made disgusted faces and you, you were the only one in the room, knowing it was real.

flickerman sent him off the stage with a laugh, and called the female tribute from district five on the stage. the victors kept changing and before you could listen more to johanna’s screaming, finnick’s voice stole your attention away.

“break a leg, or whatever you say in twelve.” the typical arrogant smirk decorated his perfect face as he snickered, throwing yet another sugar cube into his mouth, you knew it always did ease his nerves.

“maybe johanna will break his leg.” you mutter adverting your gaze to johanna mason, raging on the podium. when finnick introduced you to her first, you found her hard to trust, but soon enough you got used to her unpredictable, fierce nature. your calmer and rational thinking was a great contrast to your friendship.

the observation earned a chuckle from finnick as he took a little step closer to you, looking at you with his sea green eyes, for a long moment as if complimenting your beauty with just the look on it’s own. finnick had his way with words, there was no discussion about that, but his eyes always spoke for him first.

“see y’ later, honey.” his thumb ever so gently brushed against your chin, as he turned to walk to the other already interviewed victors.

“peeta.” finnick acknowledged your district partner with a brief nod, and he got one back, from the younger blonde.

“finnick.” peeta muttered, walking up to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder briefly before he saw haymitch nearing both of you with effie trying to keep up with him on her dramatically tall heels.

“you know what to do?” haymitch switched gaze between his protégés, before sipping some alcohol from his flask again, to make sure they understood. earning a nod from both you and peeta he sighed, for now leaving it to the fate.

“it’s time.” effie chimmed when your name was called and started lightly pushing you towards the staircase leading up the podium.

“our lovely girl, all the from twelve, doesn’t she look beautiful?” caesar gushed putting a hand over his chest, while holding the microphone in the other. the audience cheered, they loved you here, you were such an interesting victor to the capitol.

“tell us, did you leave a special someone at home? i don’t believe you didn’t.” laugh erupted from the crowd but everyone awaited your answer.

“thank you, caesar. what a..nostalgic feeling to be here again., but i didn’t, really.” you smile sweetly, your eyes searching for a head of bronze waves underneath the podium but the moment of silence flickerman left you was way too short, for you to be successful. and also technically, you weren’t lying. the special someone was there with you.

“unbelievable. such a beautiful young lady. ain’t i right gentlemen.” the crowd cheered once more before caesar asked you other number of questions.

“you did good, now you two should get some rest, the raiting starts early again tomorrow.” haymitch said as he walked with you and peeta to the elevator after introducing you to his friends, seeder and chaff, the victor tributes from district eleven.

you gave a hum in an answer, leaning against the glass wall of the lift while it gone up, not paying attention to the conversation haymitch had with peeta, getting lost in your thoughts once again before johanna’s loud voice pierced through the compressed space.

“care to unzip?” she grinned at peeta which you just rolled your eyes over, until by the corner of your eye you caught familiar tall frame that stepped in just behind johanna. finnick.

“haymitch.” the victor from district four cocked at your mentor, who just gave him a nod, brief annoyance flashing over his expression, just before johanna completely stripped off her clothes having all of the three blond’s eyes on her.

“thanks. lets do it again some time.” she called over her shoulder winking at you, before walking away into the hallway of the seventh floor where her quarters were.

“thank you.” the oldest member of the group answered and finnick threw a smirk at you making you roll your eyes once again, not even noticing haymitch’s judging look thrown into your boyfriend’s direction.

“not tired, o’dair?” your mentor uttered indifferently, looking everywhere around just to not catch your gaze.

“ve got a great stamina.” the younger blond mused while peeta just shifted awkwardly not comfortable in the position between the two older victors.

you just fake coughed lightly into your fist, reminding everyone of your presence so all the male victors around went quiet rather than being scold for the childishness of their arguments.

“twelfth floor.” the voice in the elevator announced and peeta was the first one to get out just to disappear into his bedroom, wanting to leave you and finnick some space, knowing he will talk to you later, but mainly wanting to get away from any other possible drama.

haymitch almost lazily shuffled out, into the hall, drinking the liquor from his flasks once more, before turning his head to look at you, making that disapproving face.

“use protection.” he just muttered before getting lost as well, before you had any chance to yell something back at him.

“are you even allowed to be here?” you turn to finnick, before he led the two of you slowly to the balcony railing, his hand holding yours.

“i didn’t ask.” is your answer from him along with that charming, kind smile of his. finnick leaned against the railing, reaching his free hand out to cup your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

it was more than comforting, to after weeks of loneliness, spent the night in finnick’s warm, loving embrace, his presence always had the charm to keep the nightmares from haunting every minute of your not so peaceful sleep.

the four days went even faster than it did last time. the individual rating was something that went completely around you and your brain wasn’t able to process much of the given informations, when it was occupied by the thoughts of what is gonna happen tomorrow and if you will live to see what happens after tomorrow.

“pst. hey, hey baby.” the familiar gentle voice took you out pf your thoughts and you turned around to see finnick standing at the doorway of your bedroom. for tonight, you had agreed to sleep separately, so you’d be strong and fully rested at the dawn.

“finnick!” leaping into his arms you take the feeling in, as if it was the first and last time, you ever get to feel his love and care.

finnick smiled, holding you close to his chest his arms supporting your weight as he leaned his head down, kissing your lips gently. then again, and again.

“i’ll see you in the mornin’ m’kay, sweet girl? ‘s all gonna be okay.” he gave you a reassuring look pecking your forehead.

“yea, in the morning.” you mumble, just clinging close to him, not being able to say much right now, feeling your insides being tangled in a one knot and squeezed tightly.

“good night, my love.”

“good night, finn.” unwillingly you let him go only comforting thought being that it all, might soon be over.