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kleptokure · 3 months ago

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Sensitive Soul Jams ‪‪❤︎‬

Burning Spice Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, and Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader (separate)

(a bit suggestive !) (inspo from this post, by my lovely mootie ᡣ𐭩 )

-` ᰔ ´-

Burning Spice Cookie ⟢

The day was progressing as it always does. The heat blazes down from above, and the scent of spice wafts through the strong breeze. The Tribe of Wild Spices seem to have everything under control since the capturing of Kulfi is showing positive signs.

There was not much that their lord needed to step in for. Golden Cheese Cookie was captured, and the remainder of his Soul Jam was returned to its proper owner. It would appear the afternoon could not get much more grand.

Although he craves havoc, Burning Spice Cookie settled for an activity less disastrous: a playful brawl between him and his lover.

It never fails to be a joy when roughhousing with you. The outcome of the battle can only be anticipated. Either he wins due to his pure strength, or you do by catching him off guard with your quick wits. Regardless, he will revel in the result. A fight that is not so dull is rare for him, so he appreciates your liveliness.

Nearing the canyon close to his temple, the two of you commenced a battle. Burning Spice Cookie charges at you with his weapon in hand and a large grin plastered on his face. You dodge him by a smidge, your arm brushing against him in the process.

Burning Spice Cookie's smile falters, and his movements come to a slow, giving you an opportunity to strike. Yet you do not, due to noticing the change in his behavior. It is not the most common to see him with a poker face, causing you to rethink the prior moments.

You did not attack him; rather, you had some momentary contact. With his Soul Jam, to be specific. It was quite brief, but you find there to be no other reason for his slight stillness. It is obvious his desire for battle remains, so it would be silly to think otherwise. Testing the matter once more would be the sole way to find out.

Your chances are cut short when his normal behavior returns, a chuckle emitting from his way as he dashes at you another time. Burning Spice Cookie has you pushed against one of the pillars supporting his temple, his parashu near your neck to trap you.

While it seems the position plays out in his favor, his actions also give you a chance to strike up your new objective. Burning Spice Cookie inches closer, his face nearing yours. He can sense the taste of sweet victory already. All of a sudden, his attention is rerouted, and his grin falls flat out of surprise.

The Beast of Destruction detects a soft touch landing on his Soul Jam, a certain hand gliding across the edges of the crimson triangle. The feeling is new to him, and he does not know how to welcome it. The sensation causes a sheet of warmth to fall over him, as if he were an animal going through mounds of petting.

Quickly, he jumps back, putting a distance between you two. Burning Spice Cookie narrows his eyes, looking your way. He can spot the smugness across your face. It is clear you know what you did, and he will get you back for it. Though his mind still lingers on the topic. Why did he feel so weak in that moment?

"What's wrong? You almost had me there," you taunted, snapping him out of his thoughts. For once, Burning Spice Cookie does not have a response. He himself finds the situation to be odd, but he is aware it has to deal with some part of his Soul Jam. Surely he did not grow a flaw, he believes. That would be absurd.

"I will not allow you to crumble so soon," he excused, covering up the truth that you both know. This time, your lover is hesitant to come forth, as he has acknowledged the slight inferiority he gained. Instead, he watches as you dash towards him. Even so, you do not aim for an attack, and Burning Spice Cookie notices. It should be pretty clear on what you plan to hit.

The beast dodges, sliding to the right. You follow right after, causing him to elude you once more. Although he swerves your strikes, your lover finds the circumstances to be hilarious. It is surprising you managed to cause a challenge for him, making him all the more excited. Unfortunately, his excitement led him to a predicament.

While Burning Spice Cookie is fast, you were able to catch up by the slightest inch. He experiences the smallest touch of your palm near his Soul Jam and has to resist himself from going still. He does not know when or why he's gotten so sensitive.

By now, he had decided to stop his evasion. He is the Great Destroyer, a name you whisper with fear. Why is he running from another? It does not matter if that other may be his lover; he should stand his ground.

Burning Spice Cookie stops, and to his surprise, you do as well. Did you grow tired of teasing him? He hopes so, but at the same time, he wishes for more of this little game.

His eyes are trained on you, growing nearer to him with each slow step you take. You stand a breath away from your beloved's face, and your hand rises closer to the Light of Destruction. This time, he will allow you to do such. It would be better for him to find out more about the pestering feeling rather than resorting to negligence.

The moment your palm touches his Soul Jam, Burning Spice Cookie releases a breath. Without words, you press your hand firmly against the shiny red shape. The receiver of your touch feels as if his mind will go to mush. He may have been sweating earlier due to your spar, but now he sweats for a different reason.

Your hand feels so warm, tracing the edges of the triangle engraved to your lover. Burning Spice Cookie wonders if his Soul Jam had always been so delicate. It's rare for a cookie to grow so close to him, so he would have never guessed.

Looking upwards, you lock eyes with him. You have yet to lay your eyes on such an expression. His brows are furrowed, and his constant smile lowered into a shaky frown, like he gained no enjoyment from this. You can hear the uneven breaths that emit from the beast. How funny it is to see him experiencing new emotions.

Burning Spice Cookie raises his hand, which now wraps around your wrist. You assumed he could take no more stimulation; however, he keeps your hand in its placement. The beast grits his teeth at his own actions, refraining from letting any noises escape him. He could already feel a rumble in the back of his throat, and he did not wish for further sounds to come up.

Just to make matters worse for the unsteady cookie, you position yourself lower, now face-to-face with the object of his power. Burning Spice Cookie foresees your next move, and he cannot come to deny it.

Your lips press against the smooth gem, a soft kiss taking place as your final blow. It is nothing short of effective. The cookie with spice carved into his dough, the cookie who spends perpetual time under the blaring heat, feels like he has managed to melt into jam, all because of a small kiss. He had to gulp down the drool he built up, or else he'd create a mess.

You do not plan to end your attacks here. Burning Spice Cookie is fierce until the end when he indulges in your shared spars; it would only be fair to reciprocate.

Pressing your hand to his Soul Jam, you make sure to be firm with your movement. A consistent, pestering rub for him to endure. His grip on his weapon grows weaker, but he refuses to drop it. He feels as if doing such would be a sign of weakness and has not lost this battle yet.

His eyes appear to stare back at yours, yet you get the sense he stares through you. Something must be stuck in that pretty head of his. Too bad you do not know what.

Your hand rubs the borders of his Soul Jam, which seems to be to his liking. You are close enough to hear the whirr springing from your lover, despite the tough front he has on. Just a bit more, and your victory is guaranteed.

Burning Spice Cookie decided to stop fighting against the feeling you give. Leaning into your touch, he strengthens the charge that shoots through him. He has endure many hot subjects, but he does not recall a heat such as this.

You believe your lover's headspace is nothing more than a white space. Burning Spice is entirely zoned out, and you even led him to purr. Although he might not declare it, you have won without a doubt.

With the beast weakened, you lift your hands, cupping your lover's face. As adorable as he is right now, you would like to point out another detail.

"I win," you stated, and Burning Spice Cookie cannot muster up words to say anything against your declaration. If he were not at a loss for speech, he would surely say you cheated. You cannot just abuse the power you hold over him! But, oh well, you did. Besides, he does not appear so displeased over that fact.

Of course, now you are obligated to take care of Burning Spice Cookie until he regains his right state of mind. This is all because of you, anyway. You won't leave your lover hanging, will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie 𖢻

The wind blows a harsh gust after another, a certain flour gusting through the wind. A cookie would think to flee, giving themselves an attempt to escape the pale ailment. It would be useless in the end, but it is amusing to watch them try. For you, the weather is one to take a breath in. There's nothing like the flour fog to stand amidst each day.

Of course, spending the morning with your beloved improves the dawn by a long shot. Mystic Flour Cookie is a lady of grace, and you will always be grateful to have been blessed with the sight of her every day. The cookies that dared to take your lover for granted in her past are nothing more than doughbrains.

You tend to go the extra mile with your care, slowly erasing the misery in her memories during the process. For once, the apathetic cookie could admit she feels appreciated. You must be a gift from the Witches; an apology for her suffering. If so, she has accepted the present with open arms.

Despite how emotionless Mystic Flour Cookie may appear, she makes sure to return your endearment in her actions so you'll never feel mistreated. Many call you a terrible duo due to the anguish you both cause, but all cookies return to flour at some point. Those who think otherwise are doughbrains too.

Nonetheless, even those who are opposed cannot come in the way of your wonderful relationship. The moment as of right now proves how pleasing your connection with Mystic Flour Cookie can grow.

Underneath a dumpling tree, the beast rests in a sitting position. The shade the tree provides offers a nice area to relax. You have your head laid in her lap, a common place to spot yourself in.

Mystic Flour Cookie tends to meditate elsewhere, a location at the top of many stairs, but this time, she decided to take a more scenic route. After the two of you decided to take a simple stroll at sunrise, you arrived where you both are now.

The beast has her hands caressing your face. One brushes against the side of your face, and the other lifts your hair away from your expression, which gives herself a lovelier sight of your features. Her touch is soothing, and her hands are soft when in contact with your dough. Sleep could come easy under situations like this. Yet, a sudden thought appears, keeping you awake. You feel the need to share your ideas with your lover.

"Mystic Flour Cookie," you called out in a low tone. Her motions stop, a signal that you have her full attention.

"Would you mind if we switched places?" With your question out, you wait for her response. As always, she keeps her silence, but you can notice the mental debate ongoing within her head. It does not take long before you receive your answer.

"Very well," your dearest replies. Mystic Flour Cookie does not mind being on the receiving end of gentle touches. After all, she is the main one to give them to both you and her pet haetae. She is sure the change of positions would not be distressing, especially since they shall come from her beloved.

With confirmation presented, you sit up to remove yourself from the comfort of the Beast's lap. The two of you shift until perfection, and now Mystic Flour Cookie has her head placed on your lap. Her veil nearly falls off, but she would not care much if it did anyway.

She appears so divine that any cookie would be jealous that they are not the ones this close. You cannot help but reach forward, your hand taking place on her cheek. Your palm brings warmth to her usually cool dough, and Mystic Flour Cookie leans the slightest bit closer.

Soon after, you fiddle with her hair, combing your hands through the pasty icing, which felt like silk due to how well it was cared for. You can simply hope your dearest experiences the same feelings she gives you.

The beast of apathy would admit that she does feel at ease, so much so that she believes a nap would be in order, even though sleep is not a requirement. It would not be the first time she rested near you, so it would fail to be a problem.

She perceives one touch, belonging to you, idly rubbing the side of her face. The other hand runs through her hair while also being careful not to cause any strands to stick out. A soft sigh makes its way from her lips. She deems the gentle combing more enjoyable. This should happen much more, she believes. Was this the bliss she has been gifting to the guardian of her temple this entire time?

Alas, she felt your hand remove from petting her any longer. Then, your touch begins to trail further up. Mystic Flour Cookie assumed you would undo her bun, to which she would not be opposed, but her expectations fall flat. In reality, your next act is far more alarming.

Your next placement lies onto the light of Mystic Flour Cookie's power, her Soul Jam. Her face twitches for a slight second, which skips past your notice. Even though the weight of your hand was so delicate, her head endures a flicker of going faint. Conditions worsen for the pale beast when you begin to stroke the rhombus-like shape.

She feels strange. Overly so, as if you were embracing her into one of your sweet hugs, but this time around, the tenderness comes stronger. She was unaware that her Soul Jam could bring these sorts of emotions. It is not common for a cookie to get this close to her for such to be known.

At first, Mystic Flour Cookie believes the sense is one to come and go. She would not say she minds it. In fact, the beast nudges into the sensation you have unknowingly offered. Extra affection that stems from you will never fail to be savored on her end.

Though the truth soon brings itself forward. The buzz refuses to dim down; rather, it grows more prominent. It seems it was accompanied by a stronger warmth as well. All the while, your interest in her Soul Jam remains, along with your constant rubs.

Now, Mystic Flour Cookie notices how the heat of her jam feels as if it is increasing. Perhaps comparing this to a mere hug was the wrong choice, as your touch lures out different reactions. Though it is not exactly shown on your lover's face. She still looks graceful, per usual, and you are too concerned with the pale shape to notice her speed in breathing escalating.

While this may appear as a problem for the beast, she makes no attempt to point it out. Pain is not imposed upon her, so there really is no reason to bring this to your attention, she thinks. After all, she has said every inch of your love is to be relished. Mystic Flour is not one prone to changing opinions.

Your hand brushes over the point of her gem, and she releases a shaky breath. No matter your delicate manners, she shudders at each movement, a small tremble in her hands.

"Is something the matter, Mystic Flour Cookie?" Your inquiry catches her off guard, and her eyes open partially. You were bound to notice her unusual behavior eventually, which was unfortunate for her.

"...No," she lied. After realizing her own peculiar gestures, Mystic Flour feels foolish. It is strange for her to act so inappropriately, in her own words. But can she truly hold herself liable? Love did not exist much in her reality, as she believed it would be futile in the end. She becomes greedy when it is given. You know this, don’t you? You surely would not mind. As her lover, of course.

Although she noticed the suspicion laced in your expression, you continued with your curiosity, and your hand placed onto her Soul Jam once more. She hums when you do so. A stronger sound rests on the tip of her tongue, but she refuses to let it be heard.

With the light hue of her dough, she is sure her cheeks are noticeably flushed. She is unable to prevent much of that, as the heat from your contact is much stronger. She rests in a cooler region, so encountering a warmth as this nearly brings her to overheat. You can only point fingers at yourself if she were to diminish to crumbs.

She would not mind, though. Mystic Flour Cookie accepts the truth of her turning into flour, too. If it were to be from your hand, then her bliss would only grow stronger. In her perspective, that appears like a preferable way of crumbling.

Just carry on with what you do. Get used to it along the way. She foresees herself asking for another headpat quite soon. As her partner, you would be delighted to, wouldn't you?

Shadow Milk Cookie 🂱

Swaying side to side, you rest upon a grand chair placed in front of an extravagant show, which was orchestrated by none other than Shadow Milk Cookie, your cherished one.

It is nothing short of a routine, observing the beast commence yet another of his countless performances. All the same, you view each one with fondness. For you, it comes as hard to feel disinterested when he organizes each presentation so meticulously, and it is all intended just for you.

You look ahead, watching the small cut-out of a certain Soul Jam thief grow puny under the sights of his superior enemy. It is always amusing to watch some simple foreshadowing. Clapping your hands, you prompt your host to continue with your sign of approval.

There are a few acts that include this specific scenario. In this particular plot, the ending contains the lovely crumbling of the thief. What more could a cookie ask for? That was a grandiose display.

"Bravo!" You applauded once more, watching as your entertainer bowed down in a show of his gratitude. Roses get thrown to Shadow Milk's stage, not from any definite cookie.

"Thank you, thank you!" He sends his kisses to the false audience. Somehow, they are all sent your way. What a silly accident. Nonetheless, you catch each one.

Shadow Milk Cookie hops off of the platform, floating his way towards you at an eager pace. You hold out your hands, awaiting his own to receive them. Throwing his staff to the side, the deceiver believes your grasp is more significant than a measly stick.

His hands cup yours, pulling himself closer to shorten the distance much too large for his taste. The ill-famed eyes he possesses stare lovingly into yours.

"I refuse to leave such a dazzling host empty-handed. Surely, you require something in return?" You jest, a proper tone held in your speech. Your lover refrains from giggling. He decides to play along with your proper front.

"Oooh, but I could never! Your presence is more than enough," he protested, but that answer fails to satisfy you. Shadow Milk does plenty for your sole benefit. Would it bring him to crumbs just to ask for repayment?

Perhaps you may be lesser in reality, but that means little. You are certain your affection brings him more joy than meets the eye. All you can do is be left to wonder how starved the jester is if affection is all it takes to reimburse him. Nonetheless, that need of his is being met now.

"I believe a dance is in order." Your hands hold a firmer grip as they grasp onto his. Starting up a slow waltz, you coax the deceiver into a dance laced with the genuine adoration you retain for him.

"Well..." He drags on, which would leave you in a brewing suspense, yet that falls short when a soft tune falls upon your hearing. You can assume his answer when a floating gramophone appears out of the blue.

"Since ya asked so nicely, I suppose I can spare a minute or two." You managed to woo your notorious lover once more, an expected outcome. Placing your hands onto his waist, you feel Shadow Milk's arms slide around your neck, ensuring a formal stance. The moonlight peeks through a window, spreading a blue light across the space. The moment feels straight out of one of the many fairy tales Shadow Milk has told.

You move in sync with your partner, eyes heavily trained on one another. He does not blink, you notice. That would probably unsettle any other cookie, but you tend to welcome his odd habits, so nothing much is different.

The dance goes along smoothly, with movements careful and following the pattern of the music. However, the usual bores Shadow Milk Cookie, so he finds it hard to stay within those borders. All of a sudden, a foot steps on yours, causing you to stumble over your planned choreography.

Not to worry, as your trickster here catches you before you could get the chance to fall over. Don't point your fingers at him; it was merely a misplaced maneuver on his end. Though it is hard to believe such when you are aware of how skilled the cookie is when it comes to waltzing around.

"Woopsie!" Not an exact apology, yet you do not plan to scold him or say much else for that matter. With the gramophone's classical music coming to a halt, you believe there should be a closing for your dance that is just as suitable.

You stand upright, having rebounded from your unintended tumble. The soft melody arrives at its stop, and you both stand in your places. Your touch lingers on his satin clothing. The pleasant silence floats by, as Shadow Milk's broad smile gives you the hint that he is beyond delighted to participate in your waltz.

Approaching your beloved's face, you intend to get rid of the gap between you. While the beast would find rejecting your kiss humorous, he cannot deny himself wanting to lean in as well. He does so, closing his eyes in like manner and awaiting the intimacy he craves.

In an instant, his multicolored eyes open at the same moment. His attention is brought to an abrupt case: your lips are pressed to his Soul Jam. That differs much from the mark he had foreseen you gracing your touch with. Your impromptu deed brought out conflicting passions, too.

Your kiss was no simple peck. You ensured a lengthier smooch was made against the Light of Deceit. The extended action allowed more feelings to be processed on his end. It was amusing, you thought, until you raised your sights on your lover's incredulous face. His expression lacked any theatrical essence. Had your joke landed the wrong way?

"Shadow Milk Cookie?" Whispering his name, you are patient for his reaction. While his stare does return to gazing into your own, the deceiver's response is absent. Though, you caught view of the deeper shade of blue swirling on his cheeks. It appears you had flustered the beast in a way untold.

"I didn't know you were ticklish," you teased, your smile curving upwards, while Shadow Milk's lips did the opposite. Being blindsided to the truth goes heavily disliked by him. He was unaware his Soul Jam was so... delicate. You cannot trick the trickster! At least, not in any books he has read. Shadow Milk Cookie may be the slightest bit annoyed, but he could not deny the warm thrill that shot through his body.

Shadow Milk Cookie's feelings resemble a volatile batch of blueberries. One is a bit too sour, making his hair flow around with a mind of its own, and one is just right, sending a pleasant tingle on his tongue. Please, give him another kiss for him to grasp whatever it is he truly feels. It would bring him to crumbs if you denied. The Light of Knowledge still resides within him somewhere.

You seemed eager to deliver, placing a peck onto the slit that is carved into his Soul Jam. Even though your affection was quick to leave, Shadow Milk Cookie giggles on this go-around. He believes he understands now. Some excitement never hurt any cookie. If that is what his new discovery brings, so be it.

Shadow Milk Cookie will allow you to hold this one power over him. If it makes you feel superior, then go right ahead. He is sure your peck is simply tickling him, or something along those lines.

Since your lover does not seem opposed to your actions, you follow your impulse: peppering the pretty shape in more kisses. Once again, you lead a row of chuckles from the cookie that others somehow fear. A hand on your shoulder, Shadow Milk Cookie keeps you in place, tempting you to continue.

Then, Shadow Milk Cookie's laughing grows breathier, almost forming into a soft pant. An overdose of delight hits him in the face. His grasp on you tightens, as opposed to pushing you away. Now digging into your shoulder, his grip serves as a quiet reminder to keep himself composed. He did not expect his outlook to be wrong.

Perhaps the rush he's receiving is a bit much, coming out of nowhere, but he gives no care for that. The jester has never felt such an exhilaration before, and he can't help but want more—to explore the strange pulse you present him with. His eyes dilate due to both excitement and realization. Looks like the power you hold over him is stronger than he assumed.

He can not believe you still persist with your torrents of love. Though his gratitude lies underneath. The amusement you bestow is far too grand to be discarded without delay. So grand that you pressured his mind to blankness, his thoughts blurry as he puts all of his focus on your sole touch.

For once, Shadow Milk Cookie truly believes he will faint. Even though all of his rational urges tell him to stop feeding into this passion of his, he continues. He would rather chase the depths of overstimulation, and he would do so without remorse. Embarrassment was merely sprinkled into his dough.

Unfortunately, the pleasure he seeks was snatched from him. The distance grows when you reposition yourself, backing away from the fervid man. If it weren't for your arms glued around Shadow Milk Cookie, he would have slumped on the cold floor amidst the large, quiet room.

With his head leaned back, he huffs, descending from the high you had brought him to. Though it was shaky, a smile remained etched across his face. The aftermath leaves a buzz residing across himself. Your lover jolts at random intervals, as if lightning struck him with mere gratification.

Shadow Milk Cookie looks your way, attempting to gauge your reaction through his blurred vision. Surely, all of his panting was audible. It would be silly to consider you did not know the measures of your actions.

He spots a smile of innocence iced on your face, but a flicker of mockery darkens your eyes, revealing your real ambitions. Shadow Milk Cookie can not come to say he dislikes your expression. In reality, he was never aware of how intoxicating it is to be inferior for once. He would not be against this as a pastime. Or an all the time.

His stare focuses once you begin to move. Unexpectedly, you approach his brooch anew. Shadow Milk Cookie was always one for surprises, so he would not mind another round of his brain turning to dough.

In the mere second of your breath hitting his Soul Jam, his trembling harshens. Even so, he tilts your way to quicken the process. Shadow Milk Cookie believed he would grow accustomed to your onslaughts of kisses, but he could not prepare for your next deed.

Your tongue glides inside of the slit that marks his Soul Jam, coating the crevice with your saliva. That marks the moment you break Shadow Milk Cookie, who releases a high-pitched mewl in response. His quivering will never come to an end at this point. He was left with a shred of sanity before, but now? You have taken his stability and his dignity.

There is only so much the jester can handle. Shadow Milk Cookie goes limp in your arms. He fainted from the pure elation, one he had not even experienced in his earlier days. Maybe now he will stop inferring things about you. It rarely ends well.

At the moment, you have an extremely vulnerable beast in your arms. The power you hold is immeasurable, literally. Yet you would rather his minions not take sights on him. It is not the worst option to keep him to yourself for the time being.

You will be right by his side when he wakes—only to tease him for the way he behaved. And probably go about it again.

-` ᰔ ´-

#burning spice x reader #burning spice cookie #mystic flour x reader #mystic flour cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #crk x reader #gn reader #cr kingdom #crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #x reader

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jeondesu · 3 months ago

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ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

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rafey-baby · 7 months ago

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clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head.

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists.

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with.

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms.

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him.

“You, uh, you got one?”

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion.

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives.

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class.

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff.

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words.

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes.

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can.

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.

Her head is spinning.

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

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headspace-hotel · 5 months ago

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The idea of Pleistocene rewilding, even though it annoys the hell out of me, is so interesting in what it implies about ecosystems.

If we accept that North America's ecosystems are "incomplete" or "impoverished" because of the extinction of Pleistocene megafauna, that implies there is a "complete" state of ecosystems. In the absolute sense, of course ecosystems don't ever have a "complete" state, but is it possible for an ecosystem to be relatively incomplete? What does that even mean?

Could an "incomplete" state of an ecosystem be recognizable without knowing what used to exist in that ecosystem, for comparison? Could a researcher tell that they were in an environment where an animal had gone extinct, without any direct evidence of that animal or knowledge of what it was? Who is to say how many taxa of a kind of creatures "should" be in the ecosystem?

Say we accept, then, that North America's ecosystems after the Pleistocene (but before European colonization, which involved intentional destruction) were "complete," in the sense that researchers couldn't detect any obvious "dysfunction," whatever that means.

But 10,000 years, compared with life's history on the earth, are nothing--- the blink of an eye. There hasn't been very much time for entirely new types of animals to evolve.

So it would imply that ecosystems have a LOT of plasticity and ability to re-arrange to absorb shock, and that animals can quickly expand their ranges and change their niches to adapt to the new state of existence.

...this, in turn, implies something strange about the introduction of new animal species to a continental mainland: that "native" and "non-native" animal species probably won't be distinguishably different in their impacts in the long term, because the ecosystem is chaotic and constantly changing to begin with.

Introducing new animals to islands is a disaster, because it's introducing an animal with a niche that didn't exist before at all, such as terrestrial predators or large herbivores. Introducing plants is a disaster in a small and unpredictable sample of cases.

But in the example of horses in North America, the impact could range from positive (horses used to be here, and their extinction "damaged the ecosystem," therefore horses being introduced "fixes" that damage) to neutral (the ecosystem adapted to not having horses very fast, therefore the ecosystem can likely adapt to having horses again very fast). Saying that horses are invasive seems to require us to believe contradictory things: that the ecosystem has changed so much since the Pleistocene that horses no longer belong, and that ecosystems can't adjust to change quickly.

Then, why indeed should we not introduce camels, or cheetahs, or lions?

Well, this is where "Pleistocene rewilding" gets on my nerves: it sees North America as fundamentally impoverished of animals, and at the same time, somehow treats different species of animal as weirdly interchangeable. We don't know if the American lion was closer to a lion or a tiger, and we don't know some important things like its hunting behavior. The "American cheetah" was not any more closely related to the African cheetah than to the cougar, and might not have been a specialized fast runner like the cheetah.

So this might apply to the horse just as well: the species of horse in Pleistocene times might have been so different from today's horse that they don't have the same role in the ecosystem. Well, is it better to be horseless or horsed?

I don't think that introduced species are inherently bad. This isn't a extreme position. Among plants, very few introduced species actually become invasive, and even some of those considered "invasive" are not actually harming the ecosystem in a way that can be demonstrated. I don't think I would recommend the introduction of a plant purposefully, though...or would I? With climate change occurring rapidly, I am in favor of moving species to areas where they can survive.

One philosophy of biodiversity is that the more biodiverse the ecosystem, the more ability the ecosystem has to absorb shock and adapt to change. Introduced species could have a range of potential to adapt different from native species, and could raise the shock absorption potential of an ecosystem. But they would also disrupt existing relationships and cause a shock to the native species that already exist.

Range expansions are an alternative to extinction for some species. We will probably HAVE to consider introducing species to new areas in the future. Well, imagine in the future we put Zebras in Arkansas, and the Zebras outcompeted the white-tailed deer in that area. Is that good or bad? Both species get to keep existing, but the deer's range is a bit smaller. Is the measure of biodiversity more important in a local area or in the world?

Makes my head hurt...

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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 5 months ago

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"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Prologue: hapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5 Chapter 6:

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

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all4yoi · 5 months ago

Text

𝒯he 𝒟addy 𝒟iaries

!? . . ★ 𝓕inding 𝓞ut — the moment they find out you're pregnant and how they react.

➹ enhypen hyungline x fem!reader ✦ cw: pregnancy, suggestive themes (sex mentioned), crying, slight angst, fluff, cringe cringe PLSS IDK let me redeem myself to the upcoming prompts.. not proofread!!

✦ taglist 2: open! SEND AN ASK — SERIES MASTERLIST

LEE HEESEUNG

It was practically like a tradition ever since you married Heeseung, that you would take a pregnancy test every month. It's not like you two were trying really hard to have a baby, if it turns out negative then that's that, and if it's positive, then..

Actually the thought of being pregnant was starting to be impossible for you. It has been 8 months since you've been married and all those tests turned negative. So, now that you look at the test with two lines, you stand in shock.

"Baby? You've been in there for a while." Your husband's voice comes from the other side of the closed bathroom door. Taking the test in your hand, you open the door to be met with Heeseung's towering figure.

He looks at you in confusion, his gaze averting from your face to the test on your hands. His eyes widens a bit, shakily taking the test from you. When he sees the two lines, he lets out a happy laugh, embracing you.

"You're pregnant?!" He exclaims in joy, pulling away but keeping you close. You nod with a smile as small happy tears form in your tear ducts. "Oh baby, I love you so much. Thank you." Heeseung says with a crack, his own tears flowing down his cheeks.

PARK JONGSEONG

"I think we should go see a doctor, baby." Jay says in worry as he rubs your back while you're hunched over the toilet and pour your guts out. You shake your head, wiping your mouth as you sit back up.

"I think it's the chicken last night we ordered." You say weakly and openly welcome Jay's embrace.

"If it were, then I'd be pouring my guts out every morning too baby." He sighs, helping you up your feet and helping you in brushing your teeth. "I'm texting Dr. Choi right now, go change okay? I'm getting you checked." Jay kissed your temple before exiting the bathroom, leaving no room for arguments.

The drive to the hospital was quiet, you still weren't feeling good and Jay was too worried to disturb your moment of peace.

"Sorry for the question, but are you two sexually active?" Dr. Choi asked. You look confused but nod nonetheless. "Yes, but it has been weeks since we last had sex."

Dr. Choi nods, "I see, in the urine sample we tested, it detected hCG which means you're pregnant for 6 weeks Mrs. Park. We can discuss your next steps when you're ready."

You exhale heavily, looking up at Jay who was beside you.

"Jay.." said man embraces you gently, nodding at the doctor who now left the room. "We can do whatever you want baby, choice is all yours. I love you no matter what your decision will be."

SIM JAEYUN

"This is ridiculous." You mutter as you wait for the pregnancy test. Currently, your girl friends were over at your apartment for a girls night out and they decided it was a fun idea to have you use the pregnancy test that Ningning found in her older sister's drawer.

When your phone alarms signaling the end of the 5 minutes, you flip the pregnancy test without a care, but the words "Pregnant" on it makes you freeze.

Ningning and Karina bursts inside the bathroom after hearing the alarm but their smiles drop as soon as they see your red eyes. "Y/N.."

You shook your head, fisting your hair in your hands. "No, my parents will kill me. Jake can't know." You cry and your friends embrace you.

"Atleast let Jake know.. he deserves to know too you know?" Karina mutters, brushing the strands of your hair out of your face. "No, no.." You cry harder.

You were too busy crying and your friends comforting you that no one noticed the footsteps coming in the room.

"Hey, what's happening?" Jake's voice makes your sobs halt.

"Um, we'll uh, we'll leave you two to talk." Ningning says as she pats your back before leaving the room with Karina.

Jake's brows furrows at your state before he approaches you slowly, bringing you to his chest and resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Shh, you're fine now. What happened while I was gone, lovely?"

Your silence worries him even more but when his gaze averts to the sink counter and sees the pregnancy test, he squeezes you tighter. His own tears forming on his eyes.

"I got you, 'm not going anywhere. Shh."

PARK SUNGHOON

"Whatever it shows, you know I'll still love you right?" Sunghoon whispers as he gazes at you with full of love. You and Sunghoon have been married for 2 years now and have been trying for a baby for almost a year.

All tests turned negative and you were starting to think that you were the problem. You promised yourself that if this test turns negative once more, you'll finally visit the doctor for tests.

"You turn it." You shakily whisper, keeping yourself buried on your husband's bare chest. Sunghoon does as he's told and turns the test around with shaking fingers. The sight of two lines makes him breath out shakily.

"Oh my God, baby." He says as he hugs you tight, tears flowing down and wetting your shoulder. His reaction tells you everything and you laugh in joy while your own tears cascades down your cheeks.

Sunghoon kisses you, pouring all his love in the kiss while your tears mixes with his. When he pulls away, he keeps your foreheads connected, his lips pulled in a big smile.

"I love you, we did it baby."

taglist! ( bold can't be tagged )— @stawberri @saphiranishimurashan @strxwbloody @heesexual74 @jooniesbears-blog @ayablogsblog @teddybeartaetae @gandaengene @snowprincehoon

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nelumbonuciferagaertn · 1 month ago

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Beasts x Reader

Summary: How the Beasts react when the reader kisses them. Relationship: Romantic with Shadow Milk Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, Eternal Sugar, Silent Salt, and Burning Spice.

***

Shadow Milk Cookie

First, you ask him if you can kiss him. Honestly, it disturbs him—not in a bad way, but because he has no experience with romantic relationships. The only vision he has comes from plays, where love is romanticized: the protagonist—a man of course—kisses his beloved fiercely. That brings us to the current situation, where you’re asking to kiss your favorite Cookie, who's now staring at you in shock.

« HA! You know you're funny? …Wait, you're not joking?! » he stammers. When he regains composure, he finally accepts your offer. Though "accept" may be too strong a word compared to what he actually says. « Aww! My Pookie wants to kiss me. But, honestly, I can't blame you—I am so handsome. I’d probably do the same if I were you. So, I’ll be generous and allow you to place your lips on my incredible self! »

You start by kissing the cheek he turns toward you. What he didn't expect is how happy it would make him. The more you kiss him, the faster his heart beats, and the hotter his face becomes. He grabs the sleeve of your t-shirt with the intention of getting himself inked somewhere before collapsing into a puddle of emotion. Until you reach his forehead. Just the way you guide your left hand to his cheek, holding his head while your other hand brushes his bangs back, sweeping a path for a gentle kiss—It melted him! That simple act made him feel protected by your love.

When you stop and walk away to see the result, Shadow Milk Cookie looks dazed. His eyelash-like hair lowers quickly as his trembling hands reach for your clothes. Even though he proclaims himself a master of deceit, his emotions are incredibly easy for you to read.

You finish by kissing him on his lips, making his face turn tomato-red, and the eyes in his hair transform into hearts. You thank him, and his dilated pupils avoid yours, suddenly finding great interest in the nearby wall.

A few hours later, he'll deny liking it. But make no mistake—he'll ask for it again. Not directly, but he will.

Mystic Flour Cookie

She was surprised the first time you asked to kiss her, but kept her poker face. Nevertheless, she accepted.

You start by kissing the end of her hand as if it were a sacred act. She feels a warm glow of satisfaction, as if she had regained her former glory and you were showing her your adoration in the purest and most naive way. And the higher you go, the more this heat intensifies. Each kiss moves higher — starting with her fingers, following her knuckles, then kissing her wrist — until your fingers intertwine, sealing the gesture with intimate grace.

You finish by kissing her lips, very slowly, as if you were silently asking for her consent again. She didn’t pull away; in fact, if you looked closely, you might have noticed her leaning in. The kiss between you was slow, sensual, but full of candor and intensity. A mixture of calm and bold confession.

You had to stop the emotional moment to breathe. Somehow, it seems the lack of air didn’t bother your gorgeous Cookie. You move your head back, feeling a little numb and with red cheeks. And, unlike you, Mystic Flour seems perfectly normal. You would say that if you didn't know her, because you detect a softness in the way she is positioned, and maybe in the light smile on her face. Yeah, that helps too.

Despite this, she looks imperturbable, due to her philosophy of apathy, but inside, she really enjoyed the kiss.

She places her left arm under your chin with a delicate gesture and guides you towards her lips again. And you let yourself be led with joy.

Later, after that soft moment, Mystic Flour will maintain this radiant demeanor for the rest of the day—to the point that Haetae begins to wonder if something had changed in her, though they don’t dare to ask.

Eternal Sugar Cookie

You see her asleep, her head stuffed into her arms. You think she is kinda cute, peaceful like that. And then, you remember a conversation with her where she said she liked it when you kissed her to sleep. So you think it will be cute to kiss her. Not on her lips, because consent is important, and she’s asleep so you don’t have it. However, you can kiss her on the hair. You run your hand over it, smoothing down stray strands before bringing your lips together and tenderly kissing the top of her head. It was a long and soft kiss. When you finish, you whisper goodnight in her ear. You finally move back your head— « That's all you do for showing your love? »

Then, she lifts her head, looking at you slyly, her smile carrying a sweeter undertone. You immediately understand the request. She catches you with her arms surrounding your waist. You then pepper her face with kisses, leaving in your wake sincere proofs of love. Eternal Sugar is definitely happy. Her face lights up with joy. Your lips touch her cheekbones, her lower jaw, the corner of her lips, and you feel that wherever you kiss, her dough becomes warmer. You bet she blushes.

Finally, you warn your favorite Cookie that you have things to do and must go. However, she blocks your path with her angel and demon wings. « Don't you dare leave me. It's our moment now! Just for ourselves ~ »

She hugs you tighter and you can't resist, her sweet scent numbs you. The cocoon of her wings is enchanting, as if this happiness will never end. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms. Resting peacefully, in this safe place, together, forever~

Silent Salt Cookie

Silent Salt would like to be kissed on the hand or the cheeks, in the style of old medieval demonstrations of love. Discreet, but emotional. Very romantic!

In addition, kiss them on the lips while they are wearing their helmet and they will melt in their armor.

Burning Spice Cookie

When you ask to kiss him, he is surprised. But not in a good way. « Why the hell would you ask that?! » His furrowed gaze pierces you.

This makes you angry. You fix him with the most empty look you can give. He glances at you, clearly not impressed. « Well I'm so sorry for actually caring about your feelings, love! » you growl, taking his head with your two hands and forcing him to lean forward to meet yours. You slam your lips hard, not on his, but just on the corner. Perfect for getting your revenge and teasing him.

When you release the pressure to leave his dough, his response is instantaneous. He slams you against the wall beside you (which you hadn’t even noticed), his ever-present axe glinting in one hand, your wrist pinned with the other. The silence that follows is significant. You can even see an ember igniting in his eyes while he observes you up and down.

« You're playing with fire right now, doll. » He moves his head forward, obviously aiming to kiss you on the lips this time, unlike you. However, you use your free hand to shove it into his long black hair and pull it down roughly, regaining control.

« Nuh-uh. This was my idea. You’re going to stay still. Got it? » He doesn’t resist. You feel the tension buzzing under his skin — the need to take control, but also the thrill of being played.

So you kiss him slowly: cheek, forehead, the edge of his mouth. When your lips reach his jawline, a low growl escapes him.

You smirk. He’s losing. And he doesn’t even mind.

***

Bonus for all: Over time, you become more intimate. Thus, they accept—with varying levels of embarrassment—that you kiss them where they wear their Soul Jam:

on his neck for Shadow Milk

on her upper forehead for Mystic Flour

between her eyebrows for Eternal Sugar

on their collarbone for Silent Salt

and on his chest for Burning Spice.

And if they really trust you, they'll let you kiss their Soul Jam directly. 😏

***

Note: Yo, I hope you enjoyed it! ✨ This took me a long time because I had to catch the behavior of each Cookie. Silent Salt's text is very short and different for a reason: they have not appeared in the game, so I don't have source material for their identity. Thus, it's mainly a headcanon. I don't even know what gender they have!

To understand the Cookies, I read their WikiFandom, some other fanfictions, and I asked ChatGPT to tell me the percentage of closeness I had with the original Cookie, with some advice added. The text with the highest grade in the first draft was Shadow Milk with 85%. Is it because he's my favorite Cookie and I read a ton of fanfics? Perhaps. By the way, this explains why some texts are longer than others. My motivation to write is apparently proportional to how much I love the character. Lol.

Then, using an AI allowed me to get as close as possible to the character at the cost of various rewrites. I use AI to correct my language too. I know how horrible it is to read a badly written fic. However, my first language isn't English and I'm far from bilingual. So I need correction. The idea and the original text are, and will always be, mine. But I need you to know I use AI in my fic only as a writing tool, just like I use Google Translate.

One more thing I have to say is about the nicknames ("Pookie", "Doll") I used. I don't know if they are used for a specific gender (I'm not a native English speaker), and with my small research I came to the conclusion that they could be used for everyone. But if you are not comfortable with it, you can always change the nickname in your head—for example, replacing it with your name.

I liked writing a new type of fanfiction. However, if I do that again, I won't write for more than 5 characters. That was painful enough 🤣 I'm wondering how many people will read this until the end. Try to fit the word "phantasmagoric" in your comment if you got this far.

Have a nice day :)

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