#ecstatic that I FINALLY had enough pictures

[cherriibombfics]

You know something folks don't often talk about with Self Aware AUs that I really think more people should discuss when writing about it? Sequence breaking. Specifically the inherent sequence breaking that comes with Gacha games allowing you to meet characters that you haven't met yet in the story if you haven't played that far ahead.

For example, I actually just started playing CRK nearly 2 weeks ago after watching a bunch of animations and cutscenes about the latest Beast Yeast episode online, right? And as a result, I got enough F2P currency from being a new user to get, in this exact order: Pure Vanilla Cookie, then Black Sapphire Cookie, then the soul jams to awaken PV, then Shadow Milk Cookie. All of this happened before GingerBrave canonically met any of them.

So basically Shmilk woke up one day, was out of the tree he was trapped in for what felt like an eternity, appeared in some random small kingdom, sees PV who was now all glowy and angelic and hanging out with his minion for some reason, who immediately walks up to him and says something like, "Hey man. I experienced enlightenment and I have no idea how. But through context clues from The Baker, I think I just ruined your entire corruption arc you had planned for me? Sorry about that. You wanna beat up some cake monsters as these children learn the dark lore of our existences?"

I don't think PV talks like that, but you get the picture. I like the idea of accidentally ruining the entire plotline by having some lucky gacha pulls~

"ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴏɴᴇᴅ ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ!"

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 540

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ-ᴜᴘ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ ᴍɪʟᴋ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ x ʙᴀᴋᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ SHADOW MILK COOKIE would be ecstatic about finally being released from the Silver Tree, and with a physical form no less? All so far ahead of schedule? Oh, he was over the moon! But where was he? This wasn't that silly faerie kingdom. As a matter of fact, was he even still on Beast-Yeast?

✧ In the context of the story the existence of the Cookie Kingdom is, well, horrifying. New cookies being summoned were a common occurrence within its walls, from different regions, time periods, and even ones that had crumbled long ago. After a certain point the ruler of the kingdom started finding ways to allow cookies to adjust to their new life, but of course that system didn't work for everyone.

"For the last time, I do not want to join your silly kingdom! Where are my minions? And where on Earthbread am I?"

✧ He'd be livid that his powers don't work here for some reason, safe for a couple of things like summoning a plush rabbit of all things. Why was he being reduced to this mockery? Who was turning a former almighty cookie into an equal to the foolish cookies who lived here? Seriously, is that mask-wearing buffoon always lifting something?

✧ He'd eventually comply, albeit reluctantly, because after a while he'd realize there's no point in resisting the inevitable. You held the power here, over everyone, and for the first time in years there he felt completely powerless.

“Do you enjoy seeing me kneel before you? Do you find pleasure in watching me be reduced to this?! I’m the one holding the strings, I AM NO PUPPET!”

“Why are you yelling at the sky?”

✧ At some point you’re forced to talk to him directly since he was causing troubles for the other cookies with his ramblings and general abrasion.

“You, YOU! You’re the one who did this to me! I was happier inside of that stupid tree than I am here! Why me? Why not one of the others? Why did you decide to torture me like this?”

“I dunno, the gacha just picked you I guess.”

“What are you talking about?!”

✧ He’d become even more upset when you explain the gacha to him and, by extension, the fact that their entire world was technically a game. So his current situation was entirely chance. You sent him away after that, promising that you’d build a few structures for him in return for good behavior.

“Wow, this is humiliating. Why am I being stuck cutting wood? I’m a jester not a lumberjack…”

“Shadow Milk Cookie!”

✧ Being reunited with his minions was nice, for a short while, it gave him some sense of normalcy throughout the newfound confusion. Because at least he wasn't alone during this. That Distorted Tower you promised seemed that nice, and you weren't that bad he supposed. It could've been worse…wait. Was that Pure Vanilla Cookie? Why was he glowing?

“Oh, hello again! I believe I experienced enlightenment during your absence. I’m not too sure on the details, outside of that spire, but I’m grateful we’re meeting in better circumstances. It’s nice to see you be given a chance at redemption.”

“You what?”

✧ Nevermind. This sucks.

[sickwhispers]

eeeee!! yay!! ^♡^ can I ask for finn x reader and/or sprout x reader hcs?? I don't wanna overload u so I'll keep it at those!!! tysm ^_^ -incredibly desperate annon from earlier

Oh my gosh you are such a cutie (/p) don't worry about overloading me, I'm at your service!

WRITE ME LETTERS (hot freaks)

Credits to xx675ehf on tumblr for the finn picture

Pairing: Finn x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: he doesn't understand personal space all that much, but he means well

Type: headcanons + drabble

"Whale, whale, whale... look what we have here!" Would be the first thing you hear before he comes barreling towards you at a hundred miles per hour. His body colliding with yours from behind as he brings you in for a tight squeeze

He was never one to really announce his presence, preffering to instead tackle you with affection after a quick fish pun

They never seemed to end when it comes to you

Or, really, they never seemed to end in general

But, if you indulge him just the slightest, it's easy for him to get carried away

He's almost like a dog, in a way

He'd follow you everywhere

To each machine, to each hiding spot, right by your side the second you make your way into the elevator

Every break is spent with him practically glued to your hip, his hands holding onto you in anyway they can

Whether it be by holding your hands, clinging onto your arm, tugging at any article of clothing he could reach rapidly to bring your attention back onto him

He's a Hyper one, and he isn't scared to prove it

He's even been trying to come up with new and improved fish puns

Something that'll impress you

He's self aware, he knows not everyone's a fan of his fish puns

But, even if he was able to score just a tiny giggle from you, he'd be over the moon

"Oh, c'mon! Don't act so koi with me, i dont bite!" His arms wrap around you just a bit tighter, head pressed up right against your side as an proud grin spread across his face.

You had sat on the floor of the elevator, giving yourself a few seconds of peace before having to go back to being tormented once more by the threats lurking around practically every corner. But, of course, there was rarely any moment of peace with finn on your team. He meant well, you knew he did, and he definitely wasn't the malicious type. He just... never seemed to realize when the right time for affection was. And right now, with your chest heaving up and down from a chase you had just endured, you weren't exactly begging for psychical touch.

But at the same time, you couldn't help but find it endearing. Your arm slowly lifted up, shaky from the adrenaline you had just experienced only a few moments ago, before wrapping around him, bringing him just a bit closer. This had caused him to let out an ecstatic gasp in return.

"Yknow, Finn... you're really-" you take a pause, avoiding eye contact with him. Although, despite you doing everything you can not to let your gaze fall right back onto him, you could still feel the way his eyes bored into you. You almost didn't want to say it. Your mouth opening and closing a few times as you tried to muster up the courage. "krilling me with the puns..."

There was a pause. Not one long enough to be considered worrisome, but it had definitely been a decent amount of time before you finally craned your head in his direction. And, once your gaze finally landed on him, the first thing that greeted you were his eyes staring right back into yours. They had widened significantly, and along with that his lips parted slightly. For a second you wondered if it was his body that was shaking or the movement the elevator made as it climbed up to the next floor.

"That..." He began to speak, taking another pause. You soon realized it was his body that was shaking, not the elevator. And, as he took a deep breath, signifying that he was ready to finish his sentence, his smile seemed to stretch farther then you've ever seen. "Was fin-tastic!"

It's safe to say that he'd enjoy it if you ever decided to reply to his puns with some of your own

Nothing would make him happier then hearing a fish pun slip from your mouth, whether it be intentional or a complete accident from all the times you've heard him say them

PERSONAL BODY GUARD

Pairing: Sprout x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: none!

Type: headcanons + drabble

Overprotective

That single definition was a word you heard thrown every round every now and then when it came to sprout

And, not once was it ever used as a lie

Because he was, in fact, overprotective

A gentle tug of the wrist in an attempt to drag you away from running head on into a twisted, a two hour lecture afterwards about how much danger you could've been in had he not saved you in time

His presence constantly looming over you each floor, never too far away.

It was a natural instict at this point

No matter how far away you were on a floor, the second one thing goes wrong, he's right by your side

Sometimes he could be a little too much

Not that he cares about your complaints when he's grabbing you by the cheeks, twisting your head in every single direction as he inspects you for any sort of wound

"Do you know how risky that was!? You could've lost a heart!" Despite the almost desperate tone behind his movements, turning your head from side to side, his touch was always gentle. He had taken a good blow to the back, his scarf barely holding onto his form as it threatened to slip at any second. You hadn't lost a heart, thankfully, but he sure did.

He kept you huddled behind a few boxes, legs trembling beneath the both of you as you tried to regain your stamina from the chase you had only managed to survive from. His grip was tight, and once he had made sure you hadn't gotten hurt during your little stunt, he slowly let his hands slip from your face.

"Are... you okay?" You tried to reach out, your arms stretching out to check him for any injuries just like he had done for you. And yet, they didn't have to move an inch before sprout's body seemed to slump against you. His head resting against your shoulder as his arms stayed hanging lazily by his sides. He almost didn't want to move, finding too much pleasure in having you pressed up against him.

A sigh slipped past his mouth, the sound drawn out as he hesitated for a second before speaking. "Me? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Well- I'll be fine. But, let's just stay here for a second, okay..?"

You couldn't remember the last time he had ever admitted to not being okay during a run

Typically, he'd brush off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand

As long as you were fine, he was fine

It didn't take too long before he was reassuring you, smiling as he always did while he stuck a bandaid over a wound too serious for just a simple bandaid.

He always kept the better stuff for you

Did he ever want to admit he put you before himself almost all of the time?

No.

He didn't want you to worry

He's the one who should be worrying about you, not the other way around

He's a bit of a hopeless romantic, it doesn't take much before he's head over heels in love after a simple smile you threw his way

It's always better to be focused and prepared, especially when the people he loves are constantly being hunted down by corrupted versions of his friends

He doesn't like it when the others point out how distracted he gets everytime he spots you from far away, his body freezing up on the spot as his eyes lock onto the way you pick up protein bar off the floor

For a second he wonders if your admiring his picture on the wrapper

But surely that's wishful thinking...

[noctiva]

Having g disgusting thoughts about ex bf toby who just cant get over you yknoe staring in yojr windows stalking where ever you go missing you angerly fisting his cock to the thought of yoh god helps anyone you try and date after him doubt he'd do anything public doesn't want you to know hes still watching till he wants you too. Just ough tje thought of the guy you went on a *good* date with thinking yoj fi ally recovered after toby only to open your door to see a gift wrapped box next to flowers you open it bam his heart and pictures of his corpse -M

RAHHHHHHHHH YEAH. the way he’d do this even if he was the one to break up with you. he did it because he thought it was for the best but every day without you feels like a gaping wound. lying awake in bed feeling nauseous at the thought of someone else laying their hands on you. someone else kissing you. someone else knowing your body like he does.

probably actually does throw up a couple times over it. especially if you block him/don’t immediately try to come crawling back to him. the idea that you might actually be doing better without him? it makes him shake. makes his throat close up. has the sadness and anger blurring together into one big volatile mess.

he stays away for maybe a week. and that’s pushing it. but he can only take so much.

picking up his jacket and still smelling your perfume on it making him want to slam his head through a window. up until the earliest hours of the night, his nose shoved into a pair of shorts you forgot at his place, pumping his cock fast and desperate. it used to suffice before he met you, but now that you’ve left your mark? it’s barely enough to get off. he can still vividly remember how perfectly your cunt gripped him - using his right hand after that is a joke.

so yeah. he stalks you. secretly hopes that you’re just as miserable as he is. that you can’t live without him. that you’d be ecstatic if he walked back into your life again.

and he gets that for a bit. sees the tears, the nights of frustration where you toss and turn. the scowl on your face when you break it off with yet another failed rebound. it’s gratifying. satisfying.

until it’s not.

you go on a good date, with a nice normal guy. he treats you well, makes you laugh, makes you smile - sends you home with a blush on your cheeks and a grin on your face. and god help you, because toby witnessed all of it. every little interaction. trailing you from the moment he picked you up, to the restaurant, to witnessing him placing a kiss on your cheek before he dropped you back off.

and that feels like a swift kick to the nuts. because how dare you? after everything he did for you? all the time you two had spent together? you’re moving on just like that? without even trying to make amends?

he’s not even sure who he’s more mad at; you, or the prick who somehow succeeded in sweeping you off your feet. as if he had any clue how to treat you right. as if he could ever love you the way toby did, and still does.

he wastes no time. follows the guy home after he drops you off. slaughters him the same day he stole your heart. and it is brutal. just so much unspent rage and grief taken out on this innocent bystander. but to toby? he’s anything but innocent. he’s a thief. he turned you into a traitor.

he doesn’t even notice it when the guy finally stops breathing, doesn’t even pay attention to his wails subsiding. just keeps delivering hit after hit, until he looks more like minced meat than a human corpse.

and of course, he wouldn’t want you to make this same mistake again.

you found it off that you didn’t receive a single text after the date had went so well. you’re checking your phone every five minutes, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you did wrong.

a knock on the door disrupts your thoughts. when you open it, there’s not a soul in sight. but on your porch? a bouquet of your favourite flowers, right next to a neatly wrapped little gift box.

and you smile. thinking that maybe this is a cute little surprise from your new love interest.

but of course it’s not. you should’ve expected that.

you drop the box as soon as you open it; the inner contents a mess of blood and gore that immediately makes you dry heave. the metallic scent clings to your nostrils, the Polaroid photo that accompanies it burns into your retinas.

dark and blurry, but it’s still clear as day what it is. the corpse of the man you had met just last night - slaughtered like a cow.

and next to it, a note.

‘nice try. stop wasting time and just come back to me.’

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Melt

"And if I die because you made me melt, oh well."

Summary: You and Frankie spend a hot summer day by the pool

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, semi-public shenanigans (we're assuming there's a big, tall fence around the pool lmao), Frankie being our 🐱 eating king, Frankie being the sweetest and so obsessed with you, poor Pope probably needs to clean his pool after these two leave, reader wears a bathing suit, can swim and can get sunburned

A/N: HEY HOMIES, IT'S YA GIRL!!!!! What better way to celebrate National Catfish Day than with a lil poolside Frankie 🤪 It has been hotter than Satan's ballsack out here in the midwest, so this song is dedicated to this ongoing heatwave and this song that I am absolutely obsessed with and is SO Frankie coded 😭 This is the first thing that I have worked on since May so apologies in advance for bein' a little rusty, but I'm excited to finally be back on the writing train again!!! ily all, big forehead kisses for each of you MWAH!!!! 🥹 poorly beta'd bc that's how i roll

Love it or hate it, if there was one thing that you could always count on, it was the fact that summers in south Florida were hot. 

Really fucking hot. 

So when Pope had offered up his pool for you and Frankie to use while he was out of town for the week, it was a no brainer that the two of you had ecstatically accepted his invitation. 

“We really owe Pope for this one, huh?” You smirked, setting down your beach bag on one of the lounge chairs spread across the pool deck, pulling out some sunscreen and towels for you and Frankie. 

“Yeah, I guess we do.” Frankie sighed, nodding his head in agreement, admiring the crystal blue water sparkling in the heat of the hot summer sun, hands on his hips as he looked out over the pool. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you stood behind him, secretly whipping out your phone to take a picture of Frankie inspecting the pool before quickly texting it to Pope, knowing what a kick he’d get out of it. 

You: Thanks for letting us use the pool! New pool boy is taking his job very seriously. 🫡

Pope: Haha. Would have looked better if he showed up in a bikini. Have fun u 2. 

“What are you laughing at?” Frankie asked, turning around to the sounds of your sneaky snickers before feeling his own phone buzz in his pocket, looking down to see a text from Pope. 

Pope: Your wife thinks you’d make a good pool boy. Told her you need a bikini first. Have fun with Mrs. Fish today.

Pope: Not too much fun though. 🤨

Frankie: Sorry to disappoint. 

Frankie: What’s that supposed to mean? 

Pope: I just cleaned the pool before I left. Don’t need any baby fish swimming around in there if you know what I mean 🐟 💦 lol

Frankie: Jesus christ, Pope.

Frankie shook his head as he slipped his phone back into his pocket as he made his way over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest. 

“You think I’d make a good pool boy, huh?” He smirked, planting a chaste kiss in your lips as the two of you laughed. 

“The best. But only if you give me another kiss and put some sunscreen on me so I don’t turn into a lobster.” You teased, kissing him right back before pulling away to grab the sunscreen bottle, passing it off to him. 

“Fair enough.” 

As he took the bottle from you, starting to shake it up, Frankie couldn’t help stop and watch in awe as you began to remove your coverup. Underneath, it revealed the little, strappy, bright yellow bikini you had just bought, deciding that today would be a good choice to show it off for the first time with just you and your husband together. 

“Fuck me…” Frankie whispered under his breath, his tongue darting out of his mouth and swiping over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down, admiring every sun-kissed inch of your soft skin and the way the fabric of your swimsuit hugged your curves. “Is this- fuck, is this new?” he asked softly, his sweet brown eyes just about popping out of his head, trying to use every ounce of self composure to even form a coherent question. 

“Do you like it? I got it a few days ago when I was out. Figured I could use a new one.” You blushed, biting down on your lip at Frankie’s reaction, wondering how in the world he still managed to make you feel as beautiful as he did the first night he’d met you after all your time spent together. 

“Can I show you?” Frankie asked, running his hands along your waist, gently toying with the strings holding your swimsuit bottoms together. 

“Show me what?” 

“Show you how much I like it?” He responded, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers slowly began to undo the bow tied around your hips while he gently nipped at your neck, making your stomach swell with arousal. 

“Mhmmmmmm.” You nodded, carefully backing up until your legs hit the lounge chair behind you, Frankie gently guiding you to sit down and lay back while he nestled himself between your legs, draping each one over his bare, broad shoulders, his tanned and freckled skin glowing in the blazing afternoon sun. 

Frankie wasted no time planting soft kisses up the inside of your thighs, the familiar scratch of his beard and mustache against your skin making you moan in eager anticipation as you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your swimsuit bottoms. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that? I’m so lucky.” He whispered between kisses along the meat of your thighs before stopping at your core, letting his fingers brush against the fabric of your swimsuit, sneaking under the material just enough to feel how wet you had already become in the few short moments since you had sat down. 

“Seems like you're pretty wet for not even getting in the pool yet, Hermosa.” Frankie teased, the ghosting of his fingers along your cunt making you whine as you propped your head up to see the devilish smirk between his cheeks. 

Almost painfully slowly, Frankie untied the first, then second bow holding your bottoms together on each hip, watching your swimsuit fall to the ground, revealing your pussy, slick and puffy, worked up from Frankie’s touch. 

“So pretty…” He cooed, letting his fingers drag across your cunt, collecting your arousal and rubbing at your clit, already aching to be touched. 

Frankie was nothing if not a methodical man, memorizing every twitch and hitched breath beneath his touch, learning all the things that absolutely drove you wild.

Knowing that he could be the only one to make you feel this good got him off more than anything else ever could.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your lips fell to a perfectly parted “O” as he pressed more pressure against your sensitive nub, and how they fell even wider as he pressed two of his fingers into your entrance, gently curling them to bump against the soft, spongy spot inside you that had you clenching around his hand. 

“Oh Frankie… Fuck…” You whimpered, your head falling back as Frankie’s fingers were soon followed by his tongue, licking a long, broad strip across your cunt, ​​putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to make that all too familiar sweet tingling sensation to start build in your stomach. 

Frankie’s tongue danced in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you with just his fingers. That, combined with the meticulous and skilled motions of his tongue had the coil in your belly beginning to tighten further and further. 

Your hand shot down between your parted legs, reaching to grab a fistful of Frankie’s brown, curly locks, thick and sweaty from the heat, tugging just hard enough to force his gaze up towards you, your eyes locking with his rich, brown ones. 

“F-Frankie-” Was all you were able to mutter as he continued with his fingers to press against your g-spot, slick coating his digits with each stroke. He licked one more strip along your pussy before placing soft kisses on your clit and the inside of your thighs, peeking up at you with a boyish grin. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. Wanna taste you all over me.” Frankie moaned, the low rumble of his words making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he dove back between your legs, wrapping his free arm around one of your thighs, firmly holding you in place. 

Curving his fingers ever so slightly and latching his lips around your clit, you knew it was only a matter of moments before Frankie was about to make you fall apart completely. You could feel your legs begin to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter around his fingers, able to utter nothing but a “F-fuck…” as you felt your orgasm rip through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins and soaked Frankie below you. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum for him with everything that you had in you, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become. Your pussy was slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the way Frankie had fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” You whispered under your breath, still trying to regain your composure as you looked down at a satisfied Frankie, wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand with a smirk. 

“Always taste so sweet, Hermosa. You’re so fucking hot, I swear you’d make me melt faster than the sun.” 

The two of you both couldn’t help but snort at Frankie’s cheesy comment, sitting up as you giggled to grab Frankie’s face and bring him in for a long, deep kiss, the taste of you still fresh on his tongue. 

“You are such a cheeseball, Fransisco Morales. I can’t believe that- Frankie! Frankie! Put me down! No, no, no, no, you better not-” But before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Frankie had already picked you up out of your chair, flung you over his shoulder and had you flailing your arms and legs as he carried you towards the edge of the pool, jumping in with you mid-way through your poorly fought protest. 

Your heads bobbed to the surface, still in a fit of laughter as you floated in the refreshing cool of the sparkling pool water, you wrapped your legs around Frankie’s waist, draping your arms over his shoulders while he pulled you closer to his chest. 

“Sorry, mi amor, what were you saying?” Frankie teased, raising a playful eyebrow at you as he grinned with his goofy smile, making you over dramatically roll your eyes at him. 

“One, that you are the biggest goof I’ve ever met and I love you for it,” You snickered, plating a soft kiss on his plush lips, “and two, I think I can practically hear Pope screaming at you for the fact I’m half naked in his pool.” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”   

Taglist

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby

@fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha

@jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed

@pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns

@missladym1981 @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color

@persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow

@vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller

@mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring

@itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[bitchlessdino]

pane-ting you a picture

An @camandemstudios winter collaboration Pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader Genre: romcom, fluff, slight angst Word count: 6.1k rating: pg tags: Artist!reader, shorter!reader, mentions of food, mentions of jobs loss, mentions of loneliness, snowed in, penpals, yearning, slice of life Summary: Snow is beautiful—when you’re not trapped in it. After days of relentless snowstorms that left your family without electricity—let alone entertainment—you found an unexpected refuge: sketching on the condensation of your windows. What began as idle doodles soon turned into shared exchanges with someone in the neighboring cabin. Though you don’t know who they are or even what they look like, the icy walls and snow couldn’t keep them out your head. author note: thank you @highvern @haologram @gyuswhore @lovetaroandtaemin with brainstorming, banner development, and finalizing this very fluffy piece of work for me. I hope that everyone that reads enjoys. Happy holidays 💗

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys @idubiluranghae

You expected the holidays to feel lonely this year—just not in the way you imagined.

Instead of the dreaded reality of working through Christmas again, like you had the past couple of years since moving away from home, you’ve found yourself right back where you started. Living with your parents, grappling with the weight of feeling like you failed at adulthood. Paying the bills had become a distant fantasy, leaving even your dreams to taunt you with the craving for a livable wage. It all became too much—and yet somehow, not enough. Moving back home felt like the only option left.

Your parents were thrilled, to say the least—ecstatic, even—to have their eldest back under their roof, having the whole family under one roof again. But for you, it wasn’t the homecoming you had envisioned. You had hoped to return someday with something to show for your time away, some proof that you’d made it on your own.

To mark the occasion, they planned a family getaway, a trip to the mountains surrounded by endless snow. It had been years since the last time you did anything like this together, long before the separation. You had looked forward to it—briefly—until the melancholy of the weather seeped into your chest the moment you arrived. The “lots and lots of snow” your parents had promised quickly turned into an unavoidable obstacle.

Not even a day after you settled in, the whole unit was told that the power had gone out in all the nearby cabins. A widespread blackout had left you stranded in the middle of nowhere, with snow flooding the roads to the nearest businesses. It would be a while before you could even dream of grabbing a snack or anything hot that wasn’t water or those sickly sweet instant hot chocolates.

And now, you were starting to remember just how hard it could be to live with your family again—especially under such trying circumstances. The constant back-and-forth over the tiniest matters, the unsolicited lectures about concepts that were commonsensical, and now the pitying glances. Worse yet were the relentless offers from your parents to set you up with jobs through their friends. If you had to hear about mom’s friend, Barbara, needing an office assistant at her day care center again, you feared you’d lose it.

The weight of it all was becoming harder to bear. Overwhelm was no longer a passing feeling but a constant companion. Your only reprieve was retreating to your bedroom, a cramped space with a single window that came off cozier than anticipated.

You were grateful to have a space of your own again after going without it for as long as you did. If there was one thing you had loved about living alone, it was the solitude—even in the brief moments when your roommate was out. At least then, you could find ways to entertain yourself. Sadly, one of those distractions, your sketchbook, was left behind in the city, abandoned alongside your ambition, your will.

You resorted to tracing shapes in the frost on your windows, the delicate squeak of condensation yielding beneath the pad of your finger the only sound breaking the serene stillness around you. Through the fleeting transparency of your doodles, once tracing the outlines of distant mountains, you spotted another cabin buried under just as much snow as yours.

Curiosity piqued, you press your hands against the cold glass, wiping away the condensation for a clearer view. A window in the other cabin stood nearly parallel to yours, like a portal into another world just out of reach. Before you could even imagine what might lie beyond, a hand suddenly slammed flat against their glass, startling you—a moment straight out of a horror movie.

You nearly yelp but quickly clasped your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound, regaining confidence to look back at the window. Through the neighboring window, the figure with a blurry mop of dark hair began tracing something in the rapidly forming frost. A sloppy ‘hello’ took shape on their side of the glass—backward, but unmistakable.

You chuckled at the sight, assuming the person on the other end was some bored kid, just as restless and bored as you were. Deciding to play along, you traced a reply—a proper, right-sided ‘hello’—before adding a smiley face for good measure. It was a lighthearted exchange, the wholesome moment making you genuinely grin for the first on this trip.

‘Name?’ you drew on the glass, the letters quickly fading as the frost crept back.

‘Wonwoo,’ appeared in shaky but right-side-up letters this time. You couldn’t help but smile at the effort. ‘You?’ they added beneath it, their hand pausing as though waiting with bated breath.

Your finger hovered hesitantly over the fogged-up window as you traced your name, watching the letters slowly take shape. There wasn’t much time to second-guess your decision before they replied with a simple, ‘Nice,’ making it harder to regret it.

Though it was hard to decipher much of what they were trying to communicate, one thing was clear: they loved to talk. And talk they did through endless doodles and barely decipherable scribbles against the glass, turning this serendipitous encounter into a game of charades. From your side, though, most of it looked like nonsense.

Still, it didn’t matter. You were having fun—exchanging prolonged moments with an unseen stranger on the other side of a different window.

A moment stretched into minutes, hours, even days. Long enough that it no longer mattered who was on the other side—though, judging by the look of their hands, it was definitely no kid. Slowly but surely, you found yourself starting to see them as a friend, a routine while you were stuck in the depths of snow.

‘Dinner?’ You’d ask one night, depending on the dim lighting powered by solar energy, listing up the shadows that would lift the surface of Wonwoo’s window.

‘Spaghetti,’ he replied, adding a clumsy doodle of noodles on a plate. ‘You?’  

‘Beef stew,’ you answered, following it up with your abstract attempt at drawing a cow.  

‘LOL, COW?’  

‘Yeah, why?’  

‘Kinda sucks.’  

You scoffed, a grin spreading across your face at the unexpected insult. ‘Rude.’  

‘Honest...pretty bad.’  

You couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying these exchanges far more than you expected. The two of you had learned to condense your conversations into quick, simple words, racing against the frost that always made its speedy return. But that made your efforts more of a game, adding a bit of challenge to an otherwise simple conversation.

Your parents were starting to notice how much time you spent cooped up in your room, often calling you out for quality family time—which, in your opinion, you were already doing enough of stuck inside. They seemed to see your alone time—if you could call it that—eating time away at their opportunity to bond. Even your sister, normally so self-involved, had begun making remarks, wondering if the downfall of your life in the city affected you now to have you become such a recluse.

Still, a small part of you wondered if they had a point. Maybe you were spending a bit too much time at the window. But if you were being honest, talking to Wonwoo had become addictive. It was turning into a deliberate decision—to spend every available morning, afternoon, and night tracing words and shapes on the frost, granted the time allowed it.

What began as a way to cope with the isolation, a means to burn through the endless hours, had become a light in the pit of your self-loathing and your emotional turmoil. The more you learned about your mysterious pen pal, the more you found yourself wanting to meet him, eager to put a face to the distraction that took your mind off the snow and things beyond.

“The snow’s finally letting up, sweetie. Why don’t we take a trip to the grocery store, hmm?” Your mom’s hand rested gently on your back, her warm, soothing tone wrapping around you like a blanket.

You glanced at her, your features softening at the tender smile she offered. “Why about Jan?” you suggested, nodding toward her bedroom door, knowing it awaited your sister past it. “She might want to go.”

“But I want you to go.” Her voice had that unmistakable motherly insistence. “I think it’ll do my baby some good to get some fresh air. You can take Dad’s car.”

You hesitated, your gaze drifting toward the window as curiosity tugged at your thoughts. What might he be doing now that the weather was finally clearing? You’d waited for a response, wondering if his family had roped him into another board game or if he was outside, just as your mom was trying to get you to be. Either way, you missed him—but perhaps not enough to keep waiting around.  

“Sure,” you said with a small sigh. “Why not.”

The roads were still rough but manageable, and it was admittedly refreshing to see more than just the endless expanse of white that had dominated the past few days. The sun beamed down, its warmth seeping into the interior of the unheated car, a welcome change from the cold.

The grocery store sign loomed ahead, bright and almost obnoxiously loud against the snow-covered landscape as you eased into the parking lot. As expected, the place was bustling with an influx of customers eager to take advantage of the forgiving weather. Every aisle seemed occupied—parents with children, couples, or solo shoppers—shuffling between essentials and indulgences to make the most of their outing.  

You clutched the list your mom had handed you, systematically rummaging through shelves and coolers, tossing the requested items into your cart aisle by aisle. You were almost finished, having gathered just about everything your family needed, when something unexpected caught your eye.  

In the kid’s toys section, tucked between vibrant miniature trucks and rows of Barbie dolls, a single sketch pad stood out. It was plain but familiar, similar to the one you had lost so long ago. It would be useful in your attempts to communicate with the neighboring cabinet and perhaps revive a passion that you were quick to give up then.

You decided to inconspicuously maneuver your cart closer, as subtle as one could with its squeaky wheels, and reached for the pad as you moved away from the cart. At that same moment, another hand landed on it, fingers brushing the cover in perfect synchronicity with yours.

You met his eyes, shielded by a single pair of eye frames, but nonetheless deep and warm. His hair, a dark and familiar but common shade of black, fell slightly over his forehead as the two of you crouched face-to-face. Rising in unison, the sketchpad still clutched between you, you offered a polite smile.  

“Sorry, but do you mind letting go? I found it first,” you said with as much civility as you could muster.  

“Not to be rude,” he replied, his voice low and mellow, “but I’m pretty sure I saw it first. We just happened to grab it at the same time.”  

“Ha. Well, I wouldn’t know that, seeing as all I saw was my hand reaching for it.”  

“And that’s why spatial awareness is so important,” he pointed out casually. 

You sighed, feeling an almost tangible heat simmer behind your temples. “Look, I think it’d be really kind of you to just let me have this—”  

“And what if I don’t?”  

“It’s a sketchpad, not water, not batteries, not a ham radio. A sketchpad. They’re a dime a dozen.”  

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge glinting in his eyes. “Then why don’t you go find another one?”  

“Because it’s here, and I happen to need one.”  

“As do I.”  

“Well,” you huffed, “I’m an artist.”  

“As am I.”  

You groaned in exasperation, tightening your grip on the pad. “This isn’t going anywhere.”  

“Agreed.” His expression shifted, resolute yet calm, his features almost annoyingly defined and symmetrical. “I take the sketchpad, and you find something else.”  

“You—” You stopped yourself, drawing a deep breath, trying to suppress the steam threatening to escape your ears.  

He chuckled softly, the sound light but deliberate, as if enjoying the minor conflict he’d stirred. When you opened your eyes, his slight smile met you—subtle but undeniably captivating, his amusement as clear as the sky was blue, free of storm clouds.

“There has to be a way for you to give this up,” you said, attempting to negotiate. “What do you want?”  

“For starters,” he said, nudging the sketchpad in your hands with insistence, “this.”  

“What else?” you pressed, rolling your eyes. “Something you’d want in exchange.”  

He paused, considering, his large hand still gripping the sketchpad like it was a lifeline. “How desperate are you for this notebook?”  

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as you instinctively took a step back. “I’d like it very much…”  

“Why do you look scared?”  

“Why are you behaving creepy?”  

“Creepy?” he echoed, sounding almost offended.  

“Well, what else am I supposed to think when you ask questions like ‘how desperate are you’ over something as mundane as a sketchpad? I should be running away screaming right now.”  

“But you’re not,” he pointed out smugly. “Because of this so-called mundane thing.”  

“Well, it’s all I want,” you said firmly. “So.”

“Fine,” he said, his tone shifting. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you have it—”  

“Really?” You perked up in excitement.

“—if…”  

“…If?”  

“If you draw me.”  

You blinked at him, utterly baffled as you repeated after him. “Draw you?”  

“Yeah,” he confirmed, shrugging as if it was an easy task. “Draw a picture of me, and it’s yours.”  

You stared at him, skeptical. “Are you some kind of egotistical maniac who makes people sketch his portrait before killing them?”  

He scoffed. “No. I’m just bored. You said you were an artist, didn’t you? Seems fair. Besides, we’ve got time to kill. Draw me.”  

You eyed him cautiously, weighing whether this sketchpad was truly worth lingering in the presence of this weirdo—an undeniably good-looking weirdo, but a weirdo all the same.  

“What? Worried about the ice cream melting?” he teased.

You shot him a glare before snatching the sketchpad from his grip as he finally relented. “You want a profile or full body?”  

“Full body, of course.”  

“Of course, you do,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  

After finishing your purchases and loading up your cars, the two of you set off in search of a private, scenic spot. The cold bit the sliver of skin that was exposed, and the snow crunched beneath your feet as you trudged through the frosted terrain. Fortunately, you stumbled upon a small clearing, tucked away and shielded from the relentless winds. The landscape, blanketed in untouched snow and dappled with soft sunlight, offered a rare moment of peace, tranquility—perfect for capturing the stranger in his essence.

"Wow," you murmured, stepping out of your car and taking in the breathtaking scene before you.  

"Wow is right," the stranger echoed, towering over you in his thick winter coat, a snug layer of wool wrapped around his neck and top of his head. His presence felt larger than life against the serene backdrop, a picture-esque image. A perfect muse. "Almost feels like a waste, setting all this up for little ol’ me. But hey, not my problem."  

He unraveled his scarf slightly, the crisp air brushing against his now-exposed features, sharp and striking in the natural light of the beaming sun. Casually, he settled onto a rock perfectly positioned in the clearing, leaning back as if it were a throne made just for him.  

“Your call,” he urged, flashing a playful grin. “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.” 

You let out a soft chuckle, taking a few steps back to put some distance between you and your subject. With the pencil you’d serendipitously scavenged from your car, you raised it to eye level as if you were a seasoned artist with half an idea of what they’re doing, squinting slightly as you angled it toward him, pretending to search for the best perspective to capture his features. “I have a feeling you’re gonna be hard to work with.”

“Only if you're doing it wrong.”

Finding your stance, you began visualizing his figure on the first page of your newly acquired sketchpad. You focused on the broadness of his shoulders beneath the thick fabric of his coat and the subtle shift of his boots scuffing the snow. He remained still with little effort, making him all the easier to sketch.

“You’re getting my good side, aren’t you?” he asked, his grin nonchalant, but clearly amused as he adjusted his scarf towards the direction of the wind.

“I met you today. How am I supposed to know which side is your good side?”  

“Well, I figured you’ve been looking at me long enough to figure it out.” He leaned back slightly. “But that’s a trick question—all my sides are good sides.”  

You shook your head, shading in a bit of shadow on the outline of your sketch. “You’re insufferable,” you commented, not looking up.

“Well, God is fair.” He sighed exaggeratedly, his breath visible in the crisp air. “If I were humble too, I’d be too perfect, don’t you think?”  

“I think you’d make a better model with your mouth shut,” you replied, glancing up briefly as his grin widened.

The flow of the conversation felt familiar, inviting—weirdly amusing unmatched most conversations you’ve had the past couple years, except perhaps your exchanges with Wonwoo. That is, if you could ever manage to say more than three words at a time to him through the frosted traces on the window. Perhaps your gravitation for either of these men stemmed from the absence of a partner in your life all these years, a quiet longing projected onto them. Either way, there seemed to be no harm in indulging in the attention.  

This stranger exuded a certain kindness—an audacious, unconventional amicability that defied explanation but felt undeniably real. It radiated through the harsh winter winds and the ever-deepening snow, a humanity that seemed to drip effortlessly onto your sketchpad. As you captured his form in the way your hands could manage in this damning weather, you found yourself rediscovering your passion thanks to an entitled no-name.

"How's it going?" he asked, curiosity coloring his tone.  

"Almost done," you replied, focusing on penciling in a few final details.  

"Let me see."  

Before you could respond, he hopped off the rock and stepped closer, leaning over your shoulder—his presence towering over you. "Huh. Not bad. But you're missing the defining features on my face,” his hand swept over his face, “you know—the eyes, my cheekbones. My distinct features."  

You tilted your head, fixing him with a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, your glasses are in the way, so I can only do so much."  

"Fine," he said with exaggerated resignation. Without warning, he took your wrist, his fingers brushing over your surging pulse, and gently guided you to sit against the cold, weathered rock behind him. He crouched in front of you, his face now level with yours, the sharp angles of his features highlighted by the pale, wintry light. The mischievous glint in his eyes was undeniably captivating, the blood pumping through your veins in a way the cold never could. "Here. A closer look—for accuracy."  

"For accuracy?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow.  

"Just don’t get any funny ideas," he added, his frost-touched breath, lingering the remnant of hot chocolate, making that smile on his face sweeter than you’d like it to be.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," you retorted, shifting your grip on the pencil on the sketchpad as you tried to ignore the way his proximity set your nerves buzzing.

As your eyes moved from the stranger to the sketch, you could notice as he stared back at you just as intently, as if looking directly into your soul, taking note of you and tracing you from memory. Perhaps that was his task as a self-assigned model, to familiarize themselves with their creator—or in his case hostage. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, drawing attention to the slender curve of his neck, bare and delicate. The smooth skin there traced a path upward, leading to the sharp features of his face—his soft lips, the high bridge of his nose, and his keen, fox-like eyes. Your breath was caught, unbidden, as you took a moment to take him in. Your eyes locked with his—just for a fleeting second—before you quickly returned to your sketch, pretending as if you weren’t for a moment thinking more than an artist should.

“Okay. Done,” you concluded with the tap on the page.

The stranger looked it over, holding the sketch pad towards him, smiling. “Don’t forget to sign it.”

”Oh, yeah that’s right,” you said, adding your initials in a prominent spot. “Been so long since I’ve had to do that.”

“Haven’t drawn in a while?”

You shook your head. “Not of people no, not as seriously either.”

”Well, it’s good. Keep it up.”

As you started to tear off the sheet with the sketch—holding the first page reluctantly between your fingers—you hesitated for a moment, then decided to gather the first half of the pages from the sketchbook. You tore them off in one satisfying swift motion and handed the stack to him. “Here.”

His eyes slightly widened in surprise, and he took the papers from you cautiously. “Are you sure?”

“There’s hundreds of pages.” You shrugged, “What do I need the whole stack for?”

He snickered, dusting off the eraser shavings as he admired the sketch again, he grinned happily with his exchange, making him a satisfied customer. “I wonder how much I can sell this for.”

“Maybe your mom will buy it off you,” you playfully retorted.

He, still unnamed, tucked his drawing in his bag, closing the passer door to his car, he walked back toward you, a lingering wistful smile on his face. 

“I guess this is where I leave,” he said, a raise and fall to his voice, something dramatic in his tone. “Never to be seen again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yep. All's well that ends well, I guess.”

Before you could retreat to your car, his voice stopped you. “That’s it?”

You turned back, meeting his expectant gaze. “What?”

“I thought we had a moment here. Shared something special.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “What? You want a scout badge for it?”

“No…”

“Then say what you mean.”

He scoffed, loosening the scarf around his neck to reveal the faint pink flush coloring his skin. “You’re really just gonna leave without saying goodbye?”  

You grinned, tilting your head. “We’ve known each other long enough for goodbyes?”  

“Why not?” he replied with a shrug that was meant to seem casual but instead came off surprisingly endearing.  

You mirrored his shrug, the flutter in your chest quickening as you met his gaze. “Then…bye, I guess,” you said softly, the words carrying a weight only got heavier.

“Bye,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, the word almost lost in the cold air between you. His smile lingered, faint but visible.

As you climbed into your car, you glanced back to find his silhouette watching, hands stuffed in his pockets. His expression was unreadable but unmistakably drawn to you, even as you moved out of view. Driving away, the sight of him standing there etched in your mind, like a ghost of regret, leaving you wishing there was more you could’ve done. You tapped against the wheel, shaking your head side to side, trying to decipher the significance of the encounter—what it meant and what it meant to you.

By the time you got home, the sun was already dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink. The day had slipped away before you even realized it, leaving you drained as you ushered your family to help with the groceries. Your sister, begrudgingly helpful, carried a single bag into the kitchen, while your parents, far more efficient, managed the rest with ease. They smiled at you as they asked about the store run.  

“It was fine,” you answered casually, omitting any mention of the fleeting encounter with a strange man and his self-absorbed request. Instead, you clutched the sketchpad tucked inside your puffer jacket, its presence comforting as you moved quickly to avoid further questions.  

After thanking everyone for stocking the groceries, you huddled inside, wasting no time darting to your room. Solitude awaited, and with it, the opportunity to test out your new sketchpad. And there was no better subject than Wonwoo. 

You wrote something in bold block letters, loud enough to catch his attention and you pressed the pad against the window.

‘Look who found something to write on!’

You held onto the sketchpad for a few minutes, waiting for a response that never came, wondering if Wonwoo was still out for the day—or maybe even the evening. Shrugging off the silence, you decided to put it to other uses, taking it to the living room as the familiar dynamics of your family unfolded before your eyes.  

By the time you got home, the power had returned. Jan had powered her phone, attached to the charging cable on the couch. The fridge, no longer relying on the backup generator, hummed with life as Mom filled it with everything cold. Meanwhile, Dad, his hankering for a beer quenched as he finally cracked one open, releasing a sigh of satisfaction.  

You settled on the stairs, sketchpad in hand, and began to recreate the scene before you. Each line brought their motions to life—the way Mom gestured animatedly, how your sister rolled her eyes with a whine, and Dad chimed in with his usual lecture in support of Mom. Their interactions flowed like a motion picture, filling your pages effortlessly.

A smile crept across your face as your pencil scratched vastly against the surface, then rapidly. You envisioned the warmth of their voices, how it would play with the lines of their shapes, drawing them how your eyes saw them. The small but welcoming chaos that was your family began to feel less like an obligation and more like something precious. What you had once dreaded, you now basked in, appreciating it for what it was. And on your sketchpad, it thrived, living through your fingertips and onto the paper. 

It was a fun little show and tell to share at dinner that night, bringing smiles to your family as you broke bread together. Even Jan, usually hard to impress, couldn’t help but seem genuinely happy for you.  

After the meal, with the house settling into its usual rhythm, you decided to try reaching out to Wonwoo again. You used the sign you had first had to catch his attention, holding it up against the glass, grasping at straws. This time, you waited longer, your breath fogging up the window as the evening chill seeped in. When nothing happened, you knocked lightly, the sound dull against the barrier between your world and his.

Just as you were about to give up again, something caught your eye—shadows of a moving figure, then a scrawl appearing faintly on what looked like a blank surface. It wasn’t elegant—messy even, like chicken scratch, but the message was somehow comprehensible:  

‘I found some paper too!’

It was hurried, uneven, written in an excited rush, and it made you break out in the biggest of smiles.

Despite the electricity restored and the household bustling again, your amusement in the simplest forms of communication never ceased to amaze you. There was a charm in it, something oddly intimate and endearing about written notes—just like Wonwoo. 

‘Where have you been all day? You weren’t here this morning,’ you interrogated.  

‘Errands. The power came on, and my parents kinda pushed us all out of the house,’ he replied.  

That answered your question well enough, not giving you much reason to doubt it—until Wonwoo threw a question of his own your way.  

‘What did you do to entertain yourself without me? Bet it was boring,’ he wrote.  

You rolled your eyes, a small grin tugging at your lips, before scribbling a reply. The more lengthy phrasing really let his personality shine. Although it didn't even take half a mind to know a mind to know Wonwoo was both silly and amicable, seeing the development was something you didn’t realize you longed to see ‘Mine kinda did the same thing. Was out grocery shopping for most of the afternoon.’  

‘Shopping took up the whole afternoon? The market’s only 30 minutes away. Something happen?’  

You hesitated, chewing on the end of your pen. Was there any point in telling Wonwoo about your encounter? Did it even matter? After a moment of thought, you decided there was no harm in sharing.  

‘Met some weirdo. An okay guy, I guess.’  

‘Interesting. Weirder than me?’

‘Up for consideration.’

‘Funny we were out at the same time. Maybe we passed by each other without knowing,’ he responded.  

‘Maybe,’ you agreed, looking back at all the people that have passed that could’ve possibly been him. 

Your exchanges had come a long way from simple signs and one-word notes, now flowing effortlessly into full sentences. There was an ease in your back-and-forth, a connection that felt as natural as breathing. You would miss this interaction when it’s time to go. And admittedly, you’d miss Wonwoo.

After playing catch up with him until the late hours of the night, scribbling your heart’s content on paper until every inch of a page was filled, you eventually grew tired, falling asleep and waking up again unsure of the time of day. You rubbed your eyes of sleep, attempting to perk yourself up, before looking at your phone for the time, the only reason you look at your phone as of late.

5:45pm. Just about plenty of time before dinner. 

When you came out of your room, it was vacant, almost eerily quiet how the living area was. “Hello,” you resonated out in the open space, legs trodding over to the kitchen.

Your gaze flickered over to a note, plucking it off the stainless steel. “Letting you sleep, some lunch in the fridge, and coming back with dinner. Love, Mom,” you recited, smiling.

It seemed your family had granted you some alone time, which you were more than happy to take advantage of. Grabbing your sketchbook from your room, you flipped through the filled pages, relieved to find a couple still untouched. The beauty of the day caught your eye, and you decided to capture it—particularly the landscape of the mountains, now finally visible beneath the layers of snow.

You flipped to any empty page, twirling a pencil between your fingers before starting out with an outline, tracing over the peak of the mountains and down its slope. You could get used to this feeling, this inspiration. Your smile widened when the picture was coming together: the shading, the rocks, the snow, even the birds that would sometimes linger on nearby trees. Your heart swelled in bliss like nothing else, any other sensation unmatched.

As you let out a frost bitten breath, presenting your picture to view as the sun was beginning to set in front of you. 

“Wow,” a deep voice called out from the darkness, startling you so badly that you dropped your book and pen.

A figure stood under the overhang of the neighboring cabin, tall but obscured by a blanket of shadows. “Who goes there?” you called out, your voice firm despite your unease.

“Who goes there? Are you a troll under a bridge?” he teased, clearly not taking your alarm seriously.

“I’m being serious. Who are you?” you demanded, stepping back cautiously.

“You can’t see me?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine confusion.

“You’re standing in the dark like Slenderman. Of course, I can’t see you!”

“Oh. My bad.”

”Oh?! Why are you just standing there in the dark like a weirdo?”

“How am I being weird? I’m not being weird!” he protested, his voice rising slightly.

“Stop with this creepypasta crap—you scared the hell out of me! Are you a pervert or something?”

“Pervert?” he repeated, sounding offended. “Are you saying that just because I’m a man?”

“I’m saying that because you’re standing in the fucking shadows you have a knife behind your back!”

The shadowy figure finally started to get to the point and stepped out of the darkness, revealing himself to be more than a mere stranger. You blinked in surprise, recognizing him right away.

”You’re the guy from the grocery store.” You pointed out, your tone flat. “You stalking me or something?”

He narrowed his eyes, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “How do I know you’re not stalking me?”

”So, you’re saying I found you so alarmingly attractive that after drawing your picture that you requested I do, that left first to follow you all the way to your cabin, and then decided to draw mountains for fun in the middle of my stalking. Sure.”

”…Can I see them?”

You held out a cautionary hand. “Stay where you are, I have an orange belt.”

The man let out a long sigh, and your name rolled off his tongue so naturally it stopped you in your tracks. “Seriously, how do you not get it yet?”

Your eyes widened. “How do you know my name? Oh my god. You are a stalker.”

He slapped a hand against his chest in mock offense. “I’m Wonwoo, you clueless loser. The person you’ve been talking to for the past—what, week and a half?”

“…Huh.” You blinked, the pieces starting to fall into place. “That would make a lot of sense.” Still, a flicker of doubt lingered. “Prove it.”

He rolled his eyes. “You may be a good artist, but you can’t draw cows.”

You bristled. “I tried my best.”

“Your best sucked,” he quipped without hesitation.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him but feeling the corners of your mouth tug upward despite yourself. “Hmm. Maybe you are Wonwoo.”

He crossed his arms to match yours, a grin spreading across his face at your acceptance. “I kinda had a feeling it would be you.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “Oh yeah? How?”

“Well…” His grin grew wider. “I was more so hoping it’d be you. You’re just as interesting in person as you are through…messages? Notes? Can we even call them that?”

You laughed, his words bringing back every ridiculous attempt you’d made to communicate—doodling, caveman vocabulary, the chicken scratch that was already hard enough to read with the condensation on the window.

“Well, it’s good to finally meet you,” you said, extending a hand. “Wonwoo.”

He glanced at your hand, amused. “A handshake?”

You shrugged, smiling. “What’s a better way to officially say hello?”

He shook his head, chuckling, and clasped your hand. The handshake started innocently enough, but then he tugged you forward, pulling you against him. Your breath caught as your bodies pressed together, the warmth between you defying the winter chill. His gaze locked onto yours, holding on to like and suddenly, the world around you seemed to fade.

You weren’t sure how to react, your heart pounding like it was trying to break free, leaving you standing there, suspended in what felt like a hallmark film annoyingly enough. And with that thought, you broke from the spell, finding the courage to speak. “What was that for?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you as if time had frozen, a lingering smile playing on his lips.

The corners of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself, almost melting under his playful watch. “Funny.”

“What?”

“We just met, and you’re already hitting on me?”

He scoffed, practically beaming at you falling seamlessly into his rhythm. Thought that was a given, considering the time you’ve known each other. “Actually, we’ve met a total of three times. And, as they say, the third time’s the charm.”

You mused up at him, for a moment entertaining the idea, seeing the picture he was trying to paint. “For what exactly?”

He nonchalantly shrugged, gaze softening as they fell over your features lower, arms sliding up your sides, “Well, ever since you drew me on that rock, I’ve wanted to hug you because I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to.”

”And now?”

His hand reached up to brush the top of your head, and fingers delicately found themselves through your hair, weaving through with a slow reverent touch. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet,” he softly admitted, “but if you’ll let me, maybe I can make you a part of my art one day.”

”You know…that doesn't make you sound any less like a serial killer.”

”You can’t let me have one serious moment, can you?”

“I think you’ve known me long enough to answer that question yourself,” You grinned.

[slushycoookie]

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.5

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: Lactation kink, pregnancy sex, childbirth, MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: In the final stage of your pregnancy, you find out a new thing your husband likes.

A/N: This will be the "last" part of this mini-series. I'm leaving it open-ended just in case I have another one in me. But count this as complete! I appreciate anyone who's been reading! (And I totally forgot to make a tag list. I will do that next time I do a series.)

“Aww, you shouldn’t have!” You hold up the hundredth spider suit onesie designed for an infant.

Miles' small smile was something you couldn’t be upset at, “It's no problem. But there's more.” He points to the tissue paper, causing you to look deeper inside. You gasp at the hand-drawn baby book. It's colorful and bright with a story about how a young spider made her way to find her family.

“Miles! This is adorable.” You squeal with excitement, holding it up for Miguel who was watching from afar with a smile. You motion Miles over to proceed to kiss his face with gratitude. Miles accepts your appreciation before politely pulling away.

“You're welcome.”

“My turn!” Another spider jumped in with another present.

For some reason, you've never pictured yourself having a baby shower. At HQ, out of all places. Plenty at Spider Society wanted to give you gifts to celebrate the baby. Which mainly consisted of their spider merch for babies.

Others were thoughtful. Hobie gave you a few CDs of punk music for the baby. He said it was supposed to help with developmental growth. Pavitr and Gwen collaborated on buying some baby toys. It was mainly stuffed animals. Somehow you also noticed the stuffed version of their spider personas in there. And Margo gave a few video games that also helped the development of the baby. Although these weren't going to be used until your child was big enough to hold a controller.

You were ecstatic to have a large circle who loved and cared for you genuinely.

“Oh, you're…leaking.” A spider pointed out. You looked down and your blouse was getting stained by milk droplets from your breasts.

Miguel was immediately by your side with a few wipes, “We can stop if you want-”

“I'm ok.” You said, “It's just a little milk.” In fact, it's been happening occasionally throughout your third trimester. Milk staining your shirts, preparing for your baby. Your husband lingered by your side for a moment and you caught him glancing at your breasts. Probably out of concern.

After getting home from the baby shower, Miguel insisted you relax on the couch. Making you watch him carry endless boxes from the party through the portal, setting them inside the house.

“I guess we don't have to worry about getting baby clothes for a while, huh?” You joked, losing count on how many baby spider onesies you all received.

“I'm not having our daughter just wear clothes that look like spider suits.” Miguel sighed, looking amongst all the boxes. Trying to figure out where to put them. You stood, ready to come to his aid. “I got this, baby. Go sit and relax.”

“I've been sitting all day.” You reminded him. “I need something to do.” You picked up a marker and started to go through what was in each box and label it. The two of you agreed to keep a few boxes in the house and put the rest in the garage. ‘It's what they're for’ as your husband would say.

It was a comfortable silence while you two dove in the boxes. After spending all day surrounded by people who constantly congratulated you, giving you stuff you needed, it was nice to enjoy the quiet. You two were pretty much ready for the due date in a couple of weeks. Miguel was not going to stand being underprepared if he couldn’t help it.

The boxes were almost done, your husband paused and honed on your breasts. “It's happening again.”

“God.” You huffed, going to the nearest bathroom. Quickly grabbing some paper towels. You understood that you had to produce milk for your baby, but it was getting a little annoying.

“Shut up.” You heard your husband say. It caused you to peek out from the doorframe in question.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Miguel quickly said, “It's just Ravage.”

You blinked, decided to not indulge and went back to cleaning yourself up. You were actually surprised by Ravage's willing cooperation throughout your pregnancy. The alien was still insatiable though and you were hesitant at first. Once the doctor reported that you should expect to have a healthy pregnancy, the symbiote was on to have sex a lot. Not letting a baby bump stop them from getting what they want..

It was actually nice though since your hormones have been off the charts. If you even looked at Miguel, you'd get horny. Not caring where you were at all. As long as he fucked you.

“Need some help?”

Miguel asked, standing by the door with a washcloth in his hand. He closes the door to the bathroom to create some more privacy like you two didn’t have.

“It's ok.” You try to decline but he takes away the paper towels, tossing them in the trash.

“It's not. Let me.” He dabs the warm, damp cloth on your breast. A much better feeling than the coarse texture the paper towel gave. You didn’t protest, knowing he was going to care for you in any way he can. But you watched his eyes.

They were honed in on your breasts. As if he was under a spell. Enraptured by the rag soaking up the milk droplets from your nipples. You held your breath, worried that if a small gust escaped you, it would break him from his trance.

“I think you're good.” Miguel snaps himself out of it, shooting you a small smile.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm ok. Why?”

You weren't sure whether to bring up what you just saw. Maybe it was your hormones acting up again. “Nothing. Nevermind.” You reassure him with a kiss.

While getting ready for your due date, you wanted to get ahead on things. You spoke to Jess on some breastfeeding tips. You figured it would be a good idea to ask since you've been leaking every five minutes.

The spider woman helps you on how to hold the baby, demonstrating by holding the air. You were listening to what she was saying, but you wondered if it would be better to have a visual aid.

“I would show you with Gerry, but he's a bit old to be breastfeeding now.” Jess laughs, “But I think there's something that could help.”

She shows you the breastfeeding dolls. Designed to do exactly what the name says. A baby with its mouth partially opened, giving you ample amount of practice to hold your baby correctly while they're feeding. And you could customize the baby too.

You quickly bought one, excited when it arrived a few days later. You undressed your fake baby from the plastic, eager to try it out.

With the help of Jess’ advice and a few diagrams from the pamphlet that was with your baby, you practiced. Holding the child close to your chest, making sure the mouth was positioned correctly so your not real kid was fed. How convenient that while you were practicing, milk started to leak from your nipple again. Into your fake baby's mouth.

“What are you doing?”

You turn from your position on the couch to see your husband, back from work. His face twisted in question. “Practicing. Wanna see?”

“Practicing what?” Miguel hesitantly walks over, answering his question as he sees you and the fake baby. “You need to practice breastfeeding?”

You nod, still cradling the child in your arms. “I want to make sure I get it right. I don't want to mess it up.”

“You won't mess it up.” He sits beside you, “I know you won’t.”

“Thanks. But I just wanna make sure.” You go back to pretend feeding your baby. Miguel is still next to you, watching you practice. It wasn't weird, you figured he wants to see how it works.

“And you need a fake baby to practice?”

“Yes, Miguel.” You give him a quick kiss to make him hush and you think that works but…

“This baby doesn't have fangs. Our baby might.”

You purse your lips, “I know. We already talked about the genetic make-up of our kid.” It was concluded that there was a strong chance your daughter would have fangs and red eyes. Since the percentage of spider genes in your spouse was 50/50. But you didn’t care. You'd love your daughter if she had eight eyes.

“Then maybe you should practice with something that has fangs.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “The baby design options were not that detailed. And we don't know any babies with fangs. Not that I'm saying to steal a baby, I'm just-”

Miguel takes the fake baby from you, placing it behind himself. Your eyes follow his movements when he turns you to face him.

“I have fangs.”

You blink, “They retract.”

“So?”

“So, I'm not going to breastfeed you.”

“Why not?” He looks at your chest again, still exposed from your practice. Milk leaking out once more.

You force out a chuckle, “Mig, you don't want to drink from my boob.”

“I didn't say that. Why are you implying that I don't want to taste?” His thumb presses against your nipple, drops of milk pouring down his digit. “It's food that helps feed our baby. It's not dangerous or anything.

You bite your lip as he flicks your nipple to watch the milk pour out. You didn’t want to admit out loud that seeing him like this was sexy.

“Is this you or Ravage being like this?”

Miguel leans forward, his body right above yours, “This is me and Ravage.”

“Oh.” Your face starts to get hot, “How long have you two been like this?”

“Since you started leaking. I'm not proud of the unnecessary thoughts I've had.” He ducks his head in embarrassment. But you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that your husband wants to suck on your tiddy.

“I don't mind.”

Miguel groaned, his hands gripping the couch. “Sure you don't. I feel like a…pervert.”

“You're not a pervert.” You reassure him by resting a hand on his cheek. “You're just…discovering something new.”

“That's putting it lightly.” Miguel starts to push away, shutting himself down from what he craved deep down. But you didn’t want him to make him feel ashamed. You wanted him to do it.

By taking his arm, you make him stay. Removing your shirt, ignoring the milk dripping down to the underside of your breast. You keep calm as Miguel’s eyes darken at the sight of you. Licking his lips at the sight of the liquid. “Do it. It's ok.”

He bends down after your permission, capturing a breast between his lips. Miguel sucks, his body rumbling at the taste of your milk. Because of your hormones, everything was dialed up to 11. The sensation of his lips on you was enough for your wetness to stir down below. An embarrassing whimper escapes you, while you clutch at him in need.

Miguel makes sure both of your breasts are tended to by licking a strip of excess milk up from your other breast. His groans fill the open space and your ears.

“You taste delicious.” He compliments after getting the remaining droplets from your skin. “Our baby will love it.”

You notice his bulge amongst his pants, “You're loving it too.”

Miguel’s hand dips inside past your sweatpants and underwear. The lightest touch amongst your folds makes you croon as he feels your wetness. “So are you.”

Miguel became relentless once he started tasting your breast milk. The two of you played it under the guise that you were practicing when this was nowhere near that. Whenever you two were alone and you started leaking, instead of using a tissue, he used his mouth. Collecting every ounce of milk that came from your nipple.

It was addicting.

Your husband taking turns with the symbiote, tongues lapping at your nipples, tasting every single drop. Satisfied for the day. Especially when it came during sex.

You wondered if your belly would be in the way but Miguel took care of that. Using his strength to make sure he did all of the work, not you.

He would secure you by gripping your thighs. Spreading your legs just right before lifting you up and sinking you down on his gigantic cock. You refrain him from taking his symbiote form while having sex during the last trimester, unsure if his larger length would affect the baby. But his normal body was more than enough.

You'd whine while taking him as he lazy thrusts up into you. His face buried in your chest as he did so. Sucking on any drop of milk, groaning with his movements. Your arousal coated his cock, easy for him to slip and slide right in. And then a sense of satisfaction waved over your body once you were finished.

You had to enjoy these moments while you still can.

Your due date was coming in a few days. In a perfect world, Miguel would stay by your side. Watching over you and ready to go once the big day arrived. Instead, there was an influx of anomalies popping up in different dimensions. Leaving your husband to take care of it.

Plans had to change. He connected his watch to yours so he'd be informed when you call him for the big moment. He promised to pick up right away. You noticed his annoyance of the change of plans, knowing he didn't like not being nearby while you were like this. But you took it in stride. Soon, your baby girl will be here in your world.

Miguel had to go once more, kissing you goodbye along with the usual spiel of what to do when your water breaks. You decided to do a once over the baby’s room for the fifth time this week. A wide range of emotions consumed you, from excitement to fear. You want to be a good caretaker for your daughter. But you didn’t want to mess it up. All the self-help parenting books in the world wouldn't help you with the real thing.

A strange rush of fluids went through your lower body, staining your pants and the floor in the baby's room. Did your water just break?

Sharp pains riddle your stomach as you lean on the crib for support. The baby was coming. You tried to call Miguel through your watch, taking slow, deep breaths. You weren't going to panic. You two had planned for this.

He wasn’t picking up.

You could hardly move. Any attempt committed shockwaves across your entire body. You can't have the baby here, by yourself in the baby room. So you called Lyla.

“Heyo! What can I do for ya-oh that's not good.” Lyla says while watching your hunched state.

“Where's my husband?”

The AI shows you a bunch of screens you couldn't understand at the moment. “Tech issue while on a mission. Margo and I are working on it but communication is currently difficult.”

“H-How long will it take?” You were hoping for a good answer, anything to soothe your worries.

“ETA is ten minutes for all communications to be back online.”

That was definitely something you were not looking for. “In ten minutes, I'll be having this baby-” You groan, a contraction hitting you. “I-Is it possible…to tell Miguel that our baby is coming?”

“I can but it'll be delayed. He won't get the message right away due to his location.”

“Would anyone get it at HQ?”

“Oh yeah, there’s no issues there.”

“Who's at Spider Society?”

Lyla did a scan. It was quick but in your current state, she took forever. “Ben is.”

“Will the message be delayed if you reach out to him?”

“No, he should get it instantly.”

You told Lyla to send messages to Miguel and his left-hand man. You knew your spouse was going to be upset that he missed the start of what would change both of your lives. But you don’t think you could wait for him any longer. With all the strength you could muster, you grab the baby bag and place it on your shoulder. It takes everything you can to maneuver to the living room so Ben could pick you up quickly.

To your relief he was there in a flash, blue eyes darting around to get a clear look at the situation.

“Hi, Benny.” You gave him a weary smile, “Can you get me to the hospital?”

He quickly nodded, putting the baby bag across his shoulders. “I can't wait to tell Miguel I came to the rescue. You think he'd give me a metal?”

“Maybe.” You pat his shoulder as he gently picks you up, positioning you tight as he goes through the portal.

Your husband made sure there was a maternity ward and a birthing center in the building. Making sure you get top-notch level care throughout your pregnancy. Right when Ben takes you in, Miguel picks right up.

“Are you okay? Lyla told me the baby's on the way.” Before you could answer, you whined, a contraction stopping your words completely. That was enough to answer his question. “I'm coming. Just breathe like in those exercises we saw, okay? Like this.”

He starts breathing through the watch in a certain rhythm and you follow it as your doctors put you in a room. You lean against the hospital bed, the nurses helping change you into a gown.

“I really need you here, Miggy.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were scared. You had nine months to overcome your fear but now that you’re facing it, you wanted him there.

“I'm coming. Don't worry.”

True to his word, Miguel is in the delivery room not long after. Still in his suit but instantly by your side. You felt much better by his presence, gripping his hand as the birth of your baby began.

The entire labor was eight hours. You were doped up with medication so you couldn’t tell. The trials and tribulations of pushing, Miguel holding your hand to help you through it all. Thank goodness for his spider strength. It was hell, you weren’t sure if you wanted to get pregnant again after this. But it was all worth it for your baby girl.

Gabriella was beautiful with her brown skin, gentle red eyes and curly brown hair. Almost a spitting image of her father. A person you two made together after going through constant efforts of conception.

Miguel wipes his eyes, unsuccessful at holding back tears of joy. “She's beautiful.” He kisses your daughter's head and then yours.

Ravage comes out, the symbiote getting a good look at the sleeping baby in awe. “She smells. Like baby powder.”

“She does.” You press your nose to your daughter’s head, taking in that new baby smell. “Thanks, Rav. For helping us have this baby.”

The alien gets taken back. You wanted to express your gratitude, knowing your baby wouldn’t be here without them. “You are welcome.”

“We’re not letting you babysit though.” Miguel says, making it clear.

“At least until Gabi's older.” You clarified.

Ravage hums, “Fine. As long as we can have intercourse again.”

Miguel fights the urge to pinch his nose while you giggle. “Of course. Don't worry about that.”

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

🐣 Happy Easter at Playtime Co. Headcanon — Featuring Harley Sawyer (and his reluctant descent into madness)

Note: Sorry for not posting any content about PPT Harley x reader, so here's a make-up post for y'all…Now I'm going back to my hole.

You wanted to organize an Easter event for the orphans raised in the company’s care. You wanted color, joy, light—a break from sterile hallways and somber routines. You wanted Harley to be involved. He wanted nothing to do with it. You won.

🌸 Context

You, of course, bring it up during a meeting, with that look in your eyes that always means something big.

Stella’s ecstatic. Eddie says something like “Let’s make it the best Easter they’ve ever had!”

Leith suggests egg-hunting mazes and “bunny-themed hazard corridors” (he’s joking... mostly).

Harley just... slowly turns to look at you.

"Absolutely not."

"Do you understand the risk of exposing them to that much unregulated glitter?"

"And who approved this– oh. You did."

🐰 Preparations Begin

You:

Designing pastel-colored banners.

Assigning rooms for Easter egg painting, storytime, and "bunny cookie science."

Sneaking chocolate eggs into everyone's lockers, including Harley's.

Stella:

Goes full Spring Fairy Mode™.

She wears bunny ears unironically.

She starts calling it “The Spring Festival of Renewal.”

She insists the orphans do a flower-crown making session.

Leith:

Designs a massive egg-hunt route inside the facility.

Is too excited about hiding eggs in "high-risk, low-visibility areas.”

(Harley is Not Amused.)

"That’s an OSHA violation waiting to happen, Pierre."

"You don’t even know OSHA."

Eddie:

Brings in speakers.

Plays disco-remix Easter songs.

Bakes cookies that are absolutely loaded with sugar and then passes them around to the kids.

🥚 Harley’s Reluctant Involvement

You put him in charge of the Egg Dyeing Station.

He wears gloves, a lab coat, a grimace, and the smallest pink bunny sticker you managed to sneak onto his sleeve.

He says things like:

“Do not consume the dye.”

“That’s not how color theory works—give me that—”

“…Fine. Add glitter if you must. Just don’t get it on the—”

One of the orphans hands him a hand-painted egg.

It says “Doctor Hoppy.”

He stares at it in silence.

He doesn’t speak for the next five minutes.

He keeps the egg. You notice it later on his desk.

💖 The Moment

As the event goes on, Harley’s resistance slowly cracks.

He watches you helping a child tie their bunny ears.

He sees Stella lifting a kid onto her shoulders to help them reach an egg hidden on a pipe.

He sees you smile at him from across the hall—just a little messy, a little tired, but glowing.

The moment he lets out a sigh and adjusts a child’s poorly fastened bowtie, you know he’s doomed.

“If you must frolic… do it safely.”

💐 Later That Night

You find him alone in the lab, looking over an Easter egg one of the children handed him that has both of your initials drawn (poorly) in crayon.

He doesn’t say anything as you approach, but when you lean against the counter next to him, he murmurs:

“You’ve turned this place into chaos.”

“They laughed. They smiled. Even Eddie stopped breaking things long enough to be useful.”

“…Maybe it wasn’t the worst use of company time.”

He hands you a small, carefully-wrapped chocolate bunny. The tag says your name.

“Scientific curiosity.”

“…I wanted to see if you’d smile.”

🎁 Bonus: The Aftermath

Harley still finds glitter in his lab weeks later.

Someone (probably Leith) taped a picture of him mid-egg-painting to the bulletin board.

The orphans start calling him “Dr. Hoppy” unironically.

He never corrects them.

🌙 Post-Easter Soft Moment — You and Harley, After the Chaos

The facility had gone quiet. The streamers had been taken down, the confetti vacuumed, the cookies either devoured or confiscated, and the orphans were sound asleep in the guest dormitories, sugar crashing like little meteorites. Even Leith was finally gone, after a three-minute chase around the cafeteria involving a water gun and a rogue bunny puppet.

But Harley?

You found him in the East Observation Lab, where the glass windows looked out over the city like a crystal dome. The lights were off, save for the blinking panels on the monitors, casting a cold blue light on everything. His lab coat was still rumpled from the day’s chaos, and there was a faint smudge of pink dye near the collar he hadn’t noticed.

He didn’t turn when you came in—just spoke quietly:

“You survived.”

You smiled faintly.

“Barely. One of the kids tied my shoelaces together and said it was a ‘trap for the egg bandit’.”

“Hnh.” A dry sound. Possibly a laugh.

You joined him at the counter, where he was examining something with a level of intensity usually reserved for corrupted data or misbehaving prototypes.

It was the egg.

The one with your initials and his, scribbled by a child with too much crayon and too much hope. It was lumpy, imperfect, and cracked slightly down one side. He’d placed it on a weighted display tray, as if it were some rare relic.

“You kept it.”

He didn’t look at you.

“It was structurally interesting.” “The layering of paint was inefficient, yet…” He trailed off, brow furrowing. “…charming.”

You looked at him from the side—how the light caught the edge of his jaw, the curve of his mouth held just a little tighter than necessary. You could still see the remnants of stress under his eyes, but they were softer now. Warmer.

You nudged his elbow.

“You did good today, Doctor Hoppy.”

“Say that again and I’ll cancel Christmas.”

“Not even a little hop?”

He finally turned to look at you, and the expression he wore was… unreadable at first. Then it softened further—an almost bewildered fondness, like he couldn’t quite understand how you’d gotten under his skin and rearranged the wires without him noticing.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “About these… things. Events. People.”

“Because someone has to,” you replied simply. “Because I believe in joy. Even here.”

His gaze lingered.

Then, carefully—as if afraid the moment might break—he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small foil-wrapped shape. A second chocolate bunny.

But this one… wasn’t from the event. The wrapper was matte black and gold. It looked expensive.

He placed it in your hand without a word.

“Happy Easter,” he said after a long pause. “…I acquired this prior. In case you… didn't like the corporate treats.”

Your fingers brushed his as you took it.

“You’re spoiling me, Doctor Sawyer.”

“I haven’t even started.”

It slipped out so quietly that it almost didn’t feel real—but it was. His voice held no mockery, no defense. Just a subtle admission, wrapped in his usual clinical delivery.

You smiled.

And for once, he didn’t look away.

[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs

word count; 1262 – singlemom!reader

Even though your 10-year-old son had started to become less of a cuddly kid and more of a stubborn tween, there is one ritual he never complained about. Namely, going to Onigiri Miya every Monday after finishing his homework.

By now, both of you were good friends with the owner, Miya Osamu. Some friends might call what you had a crush but you’d always deny it. There was no use getting your hopes up for dating when your whole life revolved around your son. Expecting someone to take on an extra job would simply set you up for disappointment.

Osamu knew you both well enough by now to have had a couple of conversations with your son about his growing volleyball obsession. There were pictures hung up in the restaurant of Osamu with his twin brother, who just so happened to be a setter on your son’s favourite team recently, the MSBY Black Jackals. Your son was ecstatic when he found out about Osamu’s common interest and quickly grew somewhat attached to the owner of the restaurant, so you did as well. Maybe you didn’t just go there once a week anymore.

However, Osamu hadn’t dared to ask for your number yet, so this surprise to your son became a surprise for you as well. When you and your son entered the restaurant, your eyes immediately found Osamu to give him a wave, but your son’s wide eyes were on his blonde twin who was leaning on the wall by the cashier and clearly waiting for something. Or someone. Let’s just say Osamu called in a favour.

Your son let out a loud dramatic gasp before running over to the athlete, trying to act cool while greeting Atsumu.

“S/n, you could at least greet Osamu before moving on.” you chuckled softly and ruffled his hair, even though you knew Osamu probably understood. You bowed to Atsumu and introduced yourself before smiling at Osamu again with sparkling eyes because you realised Osamu did this for your son. Your dear son who was now talking Atsumu’s ears off. “Thank you,” you said, not too loudly so you wouldn’t disturb the kids’ volleyball talk. Osamu nodded his head, neck flushing from the soft look on your face before turning around and heading for the kitchen.

“I’ll get your usual going,” he said cheerfully.

You looked at his back for a few seconds with a warm heart before turning to his twin. Atsumu was already looking at you, amused by the lovey-dovey action happening right in front of his eyes. You put a hand on your son’s shoulder. “Miya is probably here to enjoy his food too, kiddo,” you said, hoping your son wouldn’t be embarrassed for his excitement but trying to make him more aware.

“No worries at all, it’s good to get some feedback from the experts every now and then,” Atsumu said, fully into the role as he winked at your son. The boy chuckled, grinning up at you in glee. Core memory, maybe. “And please, call me Atsumu,” he said, which he directed more at you.

You three kept talking for a couple of minutes until Osamu finally came back with your food on a tray. His brother found it funny how you two awkwardly blushed around each other, trying to act like normal despite the obvious attraction. It was hilarious. Osamu closed the restaurant as you had come in quite late today and the last customer just left, so he could sit down with the three of you while you ate. However, it was mostly your son talking, trying his best to eat at the same time as he had Atsumu putty in his hands. Meanwhile, you and Osamu kept whispering to each other and mixed it with quiet chuckles, mostly about how adorable your son was.

Atsumu saw his opportunity. After this day, he could be cordially crowned the best brother ever, as he sacrificed more of his time with a few simple words after your son finished his last bite of onigiri. “Why don’t you join me for practice tomorrow, I’ll show you some tricks,” he suggested, enjoying the absolute thrill on the kid’s face. Your son turned to you, hands tightly knit together to beg.

“Please please please, mom. Can I? It’s been my absolute biggest dream since like forever.” he said dramatically. You’re definitely familiar with all his big dreams that seemed to change each time he wanted something. You took a moment to look at Atsumu for confirmation that he was sure, then at Osamu to see if he agreed with it and then you turned your eyes back to your son, pinching his chubby cheek.

“We can’t turn down such an amazing offer, I think it sounds great,” you said, and it only took a second for your son to burst from his chair to hug you around your neck and chant his thank yous. “Go thank Atsumu and Osamu as well, love.”

When you were about to leave, Atsumu picked up your son and showed him some more pictures further into the restaurant, winking at Osamu as his signal. Osamu took a deep breath before getting your attention by loosely holding your hand. “Hey, y/n.” He clutched onto all his courage and for once took his brother’s advice. “Would you like to go out with me while Atsumu takes care of s/n tomorrow?” he asked, observing your face for a reaction. You were blinking in disbelief before smiling again.

“Just us? Like a…” you cleared your throat, not sure if you could meet his eyes so you interlaced your fingers with his instead. “Like a date?” You would have to be stupid to not realise the chemistry between you and Osamu, but you never wanted to make a move because he might have decided already that he doesn’t want to be involved in your son’s life like that. So hearing him finally ask was thrilling and you wondered if he might be able to hear your heartbeat if he focused enough and Atsumu stopped talking so loudly.

“Like a date. If you want it to be.”

“I would love to.”

Osamu prepared the best date ever and the two of you easily went from nervous chuckles to engaged conversations. In order for you to relax as much as possible, he had already given Atsumu all the information and threats he needed to take responsibility for your son. In between your conversations, Osamu would check his phone and show you some pictures Atsumu sent to prove that your son was both safe and enjoying himself.

Atsumu certainly had to remind himself he was being a good brother when your son’s favourite player was revealed to be Bokuto, who had a field day with his young fan.

After you finished the perfect first date and shared a couple of first kisses, the both of you went to get your son and he was happily telling both of you about his experience with the professional volleyball players as you exited the gym. Now that must have been a core memory.

Atsumu gave his farewells before leaving, glancing over his shoulder at how you and Osamu each held one of your son’s hands as Osamu followed you back to your apartment. He could totally be the cool uncle, but your son would have to switch favourites first.

And now, after many more dates and with a diamond ring on your finger, Osamu is proud to say he has two jobs and loves both of them.

masterlist ║ PART 2

[majorlysapphic]

It's mind splurge time once again... :)

Dearest reader, today I am presenting a charminghearts soulmate AU with a (generous) sprinkle of violence. :))

(Taking inspiration from Sabrina Carpenter's new song/mv 'Taste'. @uhhhh-em-draws-stuff since you wanted to see something like this, please consider this AU as a gift/thank you for your wonderful art in the community :)) ).

TW: violence and murder.

Now, without further ado, onto the story idea!

Auradon is a land of fairy tales and idyllic love stories, so it's no shock that soulmates are a well-known and incredibly common aspect of life. So much so that it's considered taboo to not have a soulmate (especially among royal families).

Now, you may be asking: "how do people know if they have a soulmate or not?".

Well, first I'd like to establish that in this AU, some people don't have their destiny-appointed soulmate from birth. The experience of having a soulmate is varied, and sometimes fate takes a little time deciding who your other half is (especially since once your souls are 'linked', it's set in stone for the rest of time). How someone can discern whether they have a soulmate is through the notion of mark-sharing; whenever your soulmate is physically injured, your body bares the same marks left behind on their body (typically in a colour that best represents your other half). The stronger the bond between your souls, the more obvious and long-lasting these marks are.

Now, let's get onto Red and Chloe's lives prior to the start of the main story!

Throughout her entire life, Chloe has been raised on stories about her ancestors finding their 'true loves'. The Charming family bloodline are known for very strong bonds and picture-perfect soulmates, almost acting as the blueprint example throughout all of Auradon's history about how intense a soul-bond can get. So, it's logical to conclude that Chloe can't wait for the day she finally finds her soulmate.

Frustratingly, for the first ten years of her life. Chloe bares no soul marks, however on her eleventh birthday, she's ecstatic to find a bright red soul mark had appeared on her right knee. And whilst she feels bad that her soulmate must have tripped and scraped their own knee, Chloe is elated to know that her soulmate is out there in the world. She spends the rest of her birthday showing off her soul mark to everyone in the castle, and bells are rung out in Cinderellasburg in announcement and celebration that their young princess has reached this renowned milestone of life.

And when the soul mark fades, Chloe's sad to see it go of course. But she doesn't get to miss it long before more start blooming up, and after a month of knowing she has a soulmate, she's sure she's bonded to the clumsiest person in all the kingdoms. And you'd think this inkling of information would help her find her soulmate faster, but it doesn't. So once again, Chloe becomes a frustrated hopeless romantic, documenting every new mark and it's corresponding date and praying to her fairy godmothers she'll find her other half sooner than later.

And at seventeen, she does. At least that's what Chloe thinks.

I'd like to imagine that there are a lot of celebrations going on when the anniversary of the formation of Auradon arrives, so every year a different kingdom hosts other royal families for two weeks of celebrations/peace talks/gifting. So when Chloe was seventeen, it was Cinderellasburg's turn to host. There she meets Zellie, the crown princess of Corona, and Chloe falls hard. The pair get along right off the bat, and there's a spark of hope in Chloe's heart that this is it, especially given the other princesses clumsy nature. But it would be abrupt and extremely against royal decorum for Chloe to investigate whether Zellie is her soulmate or not, so she forces herself to remain patient and see where the future takes them.

Based off of those two weeks of celebration, they start writing letters and visiting each other, and soon enough, Chloe and Zellie are dating. One month into the relationship, Chloe thinks she's never been more happy, her love for Zellie isn't as "all consuming" as her parents described what it's like to be with a soulmate, but Chloe doesn't mind a quiet love. But, she doesn't want to freak the other girl out too early on, so she plans to broach the topic of being each others soulmates when they reach the four month mark of their relationship (though that doesn't stop her from dropping some not so subtle hints about her suspicion every now and then). Unfortunately for Chloe, she never does get to ask, because a week before their four month anniversary, Zellie breaks up with her.

Chloe's heart broken to put it lightly. She doesn't get where this came from, and soon enough she's wallowing in self pity once the communication between her and Zellie becomes more and more infrequent. But after all of this, it doesn't stop her resolve. So like the hopeless romantic she is (unwilling to give up on a girl who surely is her soulmate), she's planning on trying to win Zellie back on the anniversary celebration of Auradon's founding, now being hosted in the Kingdom of Corona.

It should be noted that Chloe will sort of meet Red at Corona's hosting celebration. But before I go into what I mean by 'sort of', it's time to give Red's life some context.

Wonderland citizens are just as likely to have soulmates as those who live in Auradon (who they aren't cut off from in this AU, but their borders are incredibly strict), but it's a topic that's kept behind closed doors given their reigning queens hatred of anything to do with the subject. Growing up, Red knew of the concept of soulmates, but she wasn't too fussed about the idea - so after ten years of her life with no soul marks, she concluded she didn't have a soulmate and moved on without a care. After all, she was much busier occupying her time by trying to prove herself as a worthy crown princess to her mother.

At first, this meant Red had remained studious and proper at all times, but eventually her exceeding academics and royal etiquette were no longer subject to adoration and instead expected as a bare minimum. Frustrated and still seeking her mothers approval as a young kid, Red takes up the habit of somewhat spying on whatever's going within her castles walls. This is where she'll start to realise how much violence and deceit is involved in ruling Wonderland (this is where she finds out that being sentenced to a beheading is the kindest her mother could ever be in judgement). But who is she to question things when all her life her mother has been presented as the ideal standard for what a queen should be?

From this moment on, something clicks into Red's head (perhaps even a bit too easily/quickly, but after growing up surrounded by violence, a girl tends to grow a bit desensitised to it all). She can be a picture perfect princess, but what her kingdom (and her mother) truly needs is someone willing to get their hands dirty for them. And a bit after she turns eleven, Red's able to prove it.

The first time she kills a man, she didn't exactly plan it.

All she knew that there was a young diplomat, perhaps only a few years older than her, who posed a threat to Wonderlands trades (ego, her mothers power). She remembers her mothers angry shouts from behind the doors of a meeting room when meeting with him. She remembers seeing him storm out of the room. She remembers seeing her mother whisper into a trusted guards ear before they rush off to the kitchens. She remembers realising that the diplomat would be dead by dinner time...

It's a slight morbid curiosity that gets Red moving. A growing want to see a soon to be dead man. To try recognise his faults and pinpoint why he deserved to be sentenced to death. So, she sneaks into the wing of the castle made up for visitors, locates his room and enters. There she sees him, looking out from the balcony, lost in his own stressed thoughts given his rigid stance.

Want to know a fun fact? Wonderland doesn't care much for safety standards, much preferring aesthetics.

So, when Red slowly creeps closer, listening in on this diplomats worried mutters, she feels a certain urge. A swift motion would be enough to prove herself. Just one powerful shove could change everything about how she's perceived. There'd be glory, praise, and responsibility. But of course, Red hesitates. This is a big decision, and the more she dwells on it the more troubled she becomes. But soon her decision time is up, and this diplomat is turning around, surprised to see the young princess standing behind him with a far away stare.

She's been caught lurking. Red panics, and the next thing she knows she's launched herself forward. Red's fall lands her on the edge of the balcony, scraping her knee pretty badly (it takes a few more seconds for Red to hear the diplomats fall end on the ground below).

The palace guards find her frozen there an hour later, replaying the events in her mind. Her mother is soon alerted and comes round, she looks to Red and then peeks over the balcony. She knows what's happened now and Red can never take this back. Though once she sees her mother looking down at her for the first time with a gleefully proud smile, Red's concerns seem to wash away.

From that moment on, Red was not only seen as the heir to the crown, but also as a powerful attribute towards Wonderland's power. Her mother was quick to place her in extra classes and training sessions (for more under the table political schemes), and whilst it may have been a harsh learning curve, Red's never felt so alive. Though it should be noted that because of her training sessions, Red tends to get a lot of injuries. It's a regular aspect of her life now, so she doesn't give the bruises and scars too much thought. But this also means that when her soulmarks start appearing in various shades of blue, they blend in well enough to be perceived as bruises.

For the next few years of her life, Red is given 'political tasks' within Wonderland. And the more justified havoc and death she spreads, the better Red becomes. Much to her mothers dismay, this means Red also starts getting restless on her missions, making her restless. And so after a simple recon task ends up with a manor in flames, the queen is left with a decision: take back the freedom she's given Red, or find a way to let the girl explore her true potential and carry on serving her.

The latter option is chosen, and on Red's sixteenth birthday she's presented with an enchanted, golden locket in the shape of a stopwatch. This object is the key to greater, more inconspicuous missions, as once Red places the golden chain around her neck she's disguised from anyone tracing back this version of herself to her true self (I'm imagining in reality, Red's appearance will just switch to Kylie Cantrall's real life look and the extra magic allows the anonymity enchantment to work).

From then on, Red is sent out to Auradon to do more of her mothers dirty work, and during her time there she burns down various historical sights and takes out a few important politicians. It isn't until she turns eighteen is when she's given her biggest and most risky mission yet: assassinating the crown princess of Corona, Zellie. She doesn't ask for the reason why, she just accepts.

This is a delicate mission, and Red figures the best way to get closer to her goal is to hide in plain sight. Slipping on her locket, Red enters the kingdom of Corona masquerading as a viscounts daughter from a faraway kingdom, simply travelling and making memories. Eventually, she meets Zellie at a boring ball and she get's to work charming the unsuspecting princess. It's back and forth flirting, and Red is getting closer and closer to her goal. Soon enough, Red's got the other girl completely enamoured especially after a moment of vulnerability where Zellie tearfully admits to not having a soulmate. Red doesn't see the big deal, but she plays the part of empathic 'friend', and when she tells Zellie that she doesn't have a soulmate either, she sees a flicker of hope in the other princesses eyes. Red pity's her for it, but she's not dwelling on what she feels when she's so so close to finishing her job. She just needs one moment without guards stationed out the door and a clear exit route.

That moment doesn't come immediately as she's called back to Wonderland on 'urgent news' regarding inner kingdom conflicts. But she's quick to assure her mother that she'll have the job done soon enough, since once Zellie found out Red had to leave, she personally invites her, with lovesick eyes, as her guest of honour to Corona's celebration of Auradon's formation.

Red accepts the invitation and returns to Corona two months later for the festivities, with a collection of hidden weapons and her trusty enchanted locket. And that's where she meets Chloe for the first time, after all, its hard not to notice the girl glaring daggers at her as she enters the first ball of the celebrations on Zellie's arm.

During nearly all the events going forward, Chloe is seething with jealousy. She's so sure that Zellie is her soulmate, how could she stay calm when there's another girl by her side? And whilst the two say they're only friends, it doesn't take a genius to work out there's something else there. But, so long as they're still considering each other as friends, Chloe's still able to try win Zellie back.

Though that doesn't sit well with Red. Soon enough, both girls are competing against each other.

They both are trying to dance with Zellie at a ball? They try spoil each others attempts and somehow end up getting partnered with each other for the rest of the dance (and despite the fact that Red can move with the agility of a cat, she all of a sudden can't stop 'accidently' roughly stepping on Chloe's feet during all the dances).

Both of them are trying to sit next to Zellie at an opera? Somehow both end up getting seated in a private booth and end up quietly arguing for the entire performance.

They carry on fighting and thwarting each other. It feels electrifying to be at each others throats like this. Chloe can't seem to get enough of her dynamic with Red, so much so that she starts getting excited to see the other girl. And soon enough, Chloe realises that when she's gripping a champagne glass and gritting her teeth as she watches Red and Zellie dance across the ballroom, her eyes are following Red instead of who she came to Corona for. Thus, leading to the realisation that what she had with Zellie may have been an overexcited puppy love, and despite the fact she doesn't actually know who her soulmate is, she doesn't care all that much when her focus is centred on Red.

During Chloe's new revelations, Red is slowly going insane as her assassination attempts keep getting prevented.

Her plan to waltz Zellie under a falling chandelier? Annoyingly intricate to set up and unsuccessful. Her plan to give Zellie a poisoned flute of champagne at the opera? Knocked over by Chloe in a rush to get to Zellie's side. Her plan to push Zellie off a balcony? Stopped when Chloe steps out with them.

(Red refuses to admit this is the most fun she's had in her whole life).

Red knows Chloe is doing this on purpose, and she starts panicking on whether Chloe's somehow seen past her lockets enchantments and knows the reason why she's here. So, the simple solution? Red has to kill Chloe.

At an ornate masquerade ball, Red finds a way to lure Chloe into an empty servants passage. She's intent on a little interrogation prior to anything, but Red soon forgets about the sharpened blade strapped to her thigh when her back meets the wall and Chloe's lips are on hers.

Okay. That didn't go according to plan. The worst part of it all? Red doesn't seem to mind Chloe's lips on hers. In fact, she rather likes it given the way her heart skips a beat and how she tangles her hands in Chloe's hair.

And by the end of their tryst, Chloe's feels as if she's walking on clouds (she got the girl after all) whilst Red is internally panicking, having never felt so fucked in her life.

The next few days go by in a blur, Red should be focusing on Zellie, but she always seems to gravitate towards Chloe. Soon enough, Red acknowledges that she's going to have to cut her plans short and get her job done by the end of tonight before Chloe messes up her judgement even more.

So in another mind numbing ball, she asks Zellie to meet her in her room once the main dances are finished. Zellie agrees (blissfully unaware and thinking this is the moment she'll get to confess to red and/or vice versa). Once Zellie slips out of the ballroom, Red follows thirty minutes later.

But of course, there's one person in the room Red can't escape the attention from. And who's to blame Chloe for following her? They've been flirting and more, but haven't talked about what exactly they are. She better take this opportunity to talk to the other girl.

Going through the castle's hallways, she searches for Red. And she finds her, though she wasn't expecting to find the other girl in such a state. Because Red's in her ornate ballgown with a dagger clutched in her grip, absolutely drenched in blood. The blood of Chloe's first love (and friend), who is collapsed on the floor and very much not alive anymore after one vicious swipe against her neck.

They're frozen, staring at each other. And then everything happens in a blur and they're fighting. Chloe lands a good few hits in attempt to restrain Red, but her swordsmanship classes don't amount to the same skill Red has gotten from experiencing real fights. Next thing the girls know, Chloe's pinned to the ground and Red's got a dagger digging into her throat.

Chloe's staring up at Red with a multitude of emotions. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Disbelief. It's a rollercoaster of emotions that's expected, though what's got Chloe in absolute heartache is seeing a clean, blue soul mark line appear on Red's throat, perfectly mirroring the cutting edge of the blade Red has on her.

They stare at each other. The wait is agonising, why on earth can't Red take the final blow? She doesn't know, and she's losing time for her escape. So as the clocks chime to signal midnight, Red uses the hilt of her blade to knock Chloe out.

She rushes to change out of her ballgown into a set of clothes that will make fleeing the scene and climbing walls much easier. But she's panicked on her miscalculation with her timing, so once Red all but flings herself out of the rooms window, she doesn't seem to notice that her locket's chain has snapped and fallen to the ground.

It's a small while later that Chloe wakes back up into her sickening reality, realising it wasn't all a sick dream after all. With an aching head, she stumbles into the hallway to go ring an emergency bell. Castle guards will be where she is soon enough, and despite the fact she should stand still and rest, she re-enters the room.

Shivering, she notices how Red didn't even attempt to hide Zellie's body. In fact, this entire crime scene is a chaotic mess, the murder weapon abandoned in the middle of the room. Going towards the only open window, Chloe notices a locket on the ground. The very same locket that she had noticed Red always wearing during the short time she knew her.

Fate is the most cruel thing Chloe's ever dealt with, she decides then. She didn't expect to relive her parents experience (albeit, hers is a lot darker), let alone be in her fathers role, but here she is with her soulmate fleeing the scene after midnight, leaving behind only a blood speckled locket as a reminder of her existence.

Hours later, when Chloe's being interviewed after being treated for her injuries. She doesn't mention the locket, even when the lie makes it feel as if the lockets burning a hole in her pocket. She knows she's being selfish, but this locket is hers to do with as she wishes. So with a determined heart, Chloe ignores the pitying looks of everyone around her as the months pass and the tale of the gruesome murder of Corona's heir is shared.

She's busy trying to find a way to track down Red with this small piece of jewellery. And when she finds her, she's not sure what she'll do. Whether she wants revenge or something else. All she knows is her old self with a head full of fairy tales is fading, and she's willing to do anything to get her hands on the other girl.

A year passes.

Red has long since been banned from going back to Auradon after her mother found out about her various mistakes (though she made sure not to mention Chloe). She can't say she's too mad about it, the situation rattled her more than she expected (especially when she returns home, to find a thin blue soulmark across her neck. She's not an idiot. She knows who it's linked to. She doesn't say anything to anyone about it).

So, she sinks back into her oldest routines as crown princess. But one day she comes into her mothers study to find out that Wonderland is entering some form of political alliance with Cinderellasburg.

Two weeks later she's sat by the dining table of the Charming's castle, refusing to make eye contact with anyone or even contribute to the discussion. During the same dinner, Chloe hasn't taken her eyes off of Red once, unable to shake the feeling that she knows her from somewhere.

Red can only hope that she can stay as far away from Chloe as possible during the alliance (given that once it's established, regular communication and travel between Wonderland and Cinderellasburg will begin).

Chloe's starting to think that she should try find a way to get to know the crown princess of Hearts. Perhaps she'll enlighten Chloe about Wonderland's magic (the very same magic Chloe has figured out is weaved into the locket she carries in her pocket everywhere).

[reverd-ck]

valentines with choso <3

wc: 1.5k (i yapped too hard)

cw: kms exaggeration/joke

Choso knew he liked you the moment you walked into class.

He knew he was in love with you the moment you sat beside him. Asked for his name. Got his number. All of that.

Seriously, when was the last time a girl he knew from no where asked him for stuff like this? And a pretty one at that?

He couldn’t help but have you in his mind from time to time. 

And you couldn’t either.

He was, objectively, cute. You loved his hairstyle instantly when you saw it. Spacebuns?! In a university class? Sign me up. 

You soon began loving more parts of him the more time you spent with him. The tattoo on the bridge of his nose? The rough eyebags? You hoped he didn’t catch you staring all the time, because holy this man was hot.

You were intrigued. You wanted to know more about him, so you talked to him.

Was it a talking stage? Or did he think of you guys as just friends? Is it normal to be enjoying someone’s company this much? 

You both had your own friends, and your own social circles. But as you and Choso grew closer, they slowly realized what was going on.

His friends were jealous that he got a girl before them, no matter how many times Choso tried to insist you guys weren’t dating. Your friends were ecstatic over the fact that you finally tried seeking a relationship, no matter how many times you said you guys were “just friends.”

But the teasing of your friends didn’t drive you guys apart. It didn’t make you guys be embarrassed to hang out with the other. It might of even made you like each other more.

So when the chill of fall slowly turned into the biting cold of winter, you found yourself coming over and hanging out at his place a lot, and the same vice versa. 

Watching movies, laughing together. On one occasion, you did Choso’s unique hairstyle for him and you put little stickers and hairclips on him. The picture of him in the cute little get up was secretly your home screen wallpaper. It was too cute, him wearing a scrunched up expression because of the tackiness of the accessories. 

Your friends say that you’re dumb as hell.

His friends say that he’s an idiot.

Just about anyone could see the romantic tension between you two, yet neither you nor Choso would admit it out loud to each other. Left to pine in “secret”. 

₊˚⊹♡

Soon enough, February 14th was getting a little too close, and you were panicking if you should ask Choso out.

That was basically a confession. And you didn’t want to make the first step. What if he thought of you guys as only friends? What if the teasing from his friends were just a joke? 

You spent a lot of the time in your day overthinking. Choso saw during the classes you had together, you always seemed preoccupied with something in your head, and never really looking at him directly in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

Now he was overthinking. Did you not like him anymore?

The class was spent with you two together in silence, staring into the polished wood of the desk, lost in your own thoughts.

Thursday, February 13th felt like you had the most pressure in your life. It felt more than just 4 assignments all due on the same day. It felt more than two tests back to back that you didn’t study for.

You decided that you were going to ask him out. You were going to be brave, say “Do you want to be my valentine?” on text, then power off your phone and bury yourself alive.

A great plan. Foolproof, maybe. 

But what would you do after? If he said yes, you didn’t even have any chocolates or teddy bears to give, and now you just seem like a total loser and a leech. 

But what if he said no? Now, you just lost a valuable friendship and someone who made going through each day just a little easier.

You flopped down onto your bed. It was so tiring, thinking and planning and worrying. 

Yes, you needed to think this through. But now, you should just go to sleep and be indecisive in the morning, and not late at night. That was way more doable than asking someone out.

Choso, on the other hand, was in the same predicament as you.

Same “What if?’s”, same “But’s ” were also plaguing Choso’s brain. But Choso was more prepared. He already had his chocolates, with the same brand you loved. He had his small plushie, which was your favorite animal. It was annoying to get them, as he needed to hide them from his peeking friends and, of course, you.

Yet, he had no plan on how to present them to you, and how to even ask you. Would he just go blunt? No, that will make it seem like he put zero effort into it and just wanted someone with him on Valentines Day. A long, heartfelt message would be too tacky, but it would certainly be romantic, only if you returned the feelings. It would be awfully embarrassing if you didn’t like him in the first place.

He covered his face in his hands. Seriously, why did it have to be so hard?

He should man up, for gods sake. Just ask you and get on with his day, whether or not you said no or yes. Rejection is something everybody should experience. 

But he couldn’t take rejection, especially not from you. He didn’t want to take the risk of losing the friendship that was so precious to both of you guys.

But he bought the chocolates. And he already liked you for about 5 months.

It was now or never.

₊˚⊹♡

Choso was about to kill himself. 

Sorry, exaggeration. He was about to bash his head against the wall.

He sent the text. Dear God, why did he send that? And why did he let it just stay? Why didn’t he just unsend it right away? 

Was it for the hopes that you would actually get to see it? 

Well, now it was too late to go back. The text message is forever engraved into the data of his phone and yours. 

Stupid, stupid text message. Did his fingers have to hit send?

It was supposed to be him practicing sending that. Type out the message, then delete it. Paraphrase his sentences before actually sending it. 

There was no possible way he sent a text message that looked that desperate.

Choso slouched onto his bed and groaned, throwing his phone across his desk.

It had already been 15 minutes. That dragged into another hour. Then two hours. Then it was almost midnight and you still haven’t even opened the message yet.

Choso was panicking internally. You would’ve checked your messages at least once during the four hours that had passed. 

Have you already read the message by looking at the notification? Were you so disgusted by the fact he asked you out that you completely neglected to respond?

His hands were in his hair, pulling at the shoulder-length strands. 

Seriously, how much of a dumbass did he have to be?

He couldn’t sleep much that night. He was half awake, overthinking and looking over to see if his phone screen had lit up. But it was always just a random notification, coming from an app Choso barely used anymore. He sighed and turned his phone off, spending the rest of the night not catching a wink of sleep.

₊˚⊹♡

Luckily for you, he asked first.

And luckily for him, you agreed.

You only saw his message in the morning of Valentines. Of course, you immediately replied yes, saving Choso from spending another sleepless hour after seeing his message get left on delivered.

The few seconds after replying to that message felt a little unreal. You collapsed onto your bed, unable to stop smiling. 

You did it.

You were going on a date with one of the best people you knew. The one you not-so silently chased all these months.

Life was perfect right now. You didn’t want anything to change, not after this one.

₊˚⊹♡

Six PM. Friday. 

To say you were excited wouldn’t be accurate.

Actually, it was more of a jittery nervousness. 

You wondered why, actually. Why were you nervous meeting up with a guy you were friends with for almost this whole year?

He opened the door before you could finish gathering your thoughts. 

You looked up. 

Perfect.

He was perfect, just like how you saw him your first class the day you met. Perfect, with his signature hairstyle, never once changing it. He looked the same as if this was just a regular hangout you guys had almost everyday.

As if it’s anything like that.

You greeted him nervously and stepped inside.

He returned the favor, looking just as bit as awkward as you felt. 

Shit, what if confessing to you made you guys as awkward as strangers now? 

But it didn’t.

The rest of the night went smoothly with him. The one you were half-chasing since the start of the school year. 

You couldn’t be anymore happier. 

And Choso couldn’t either.

a/n

happy valentines day guys!!

got lazy writing the last part

and it got way too long so i had to delete some parts of it

thx for reading sigmas!

dividers by @.enchanthings-a @.saradika-graphics

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Missed you -

Jake Gyllenhaal

• Summary: Jake comes home after a work trip and is there any better way to say “I missed you” than to have sex with each other?

• Warnings: Established relationship, smut, oral (f receiving), squint a little and jake is pussydrunk, piv sex, cumplay…, jake eats you out after he’s fucked you, it’s actually filthy.

• Word count: 1712

• Notes: My ancestors are disappointed in me. The picture at the top is how I imagined him. I have to rewatch Enemy…

────୨ৎ────

Being Jakes girlfriend wasn’t always easy. He was away a lot and sometimes you would spend days by yourself in your shared new york apartment. This time he had been shooting a movie in a city hours away. Of course you talked on the phone whenever he had the time, but it wasn’t the same as having him there with you.

He was supposed to be coming home in just a few hours. You made sure the place was squeaky clean before he arrived so he could rest guilt-free, he was a bit of a neat freak and when he was gone the place quickly turned into a landfill. You were folding the last blanket when he texted you that he was in the cab, you smiled at your screen. You stared at the door until you finally heard his keys rattling in the lock. You sprinted towards the door to greet him. And when he opened the door you lunged into his arms and he enveloped you in a big, long hug. You took a deep breath, savouring his scent. “Hi baby” he whispered and kissed your head. “Hi to you too” you said and kissed him.

You spent the night watching a movie, just enjoying being in each other’s present, cuddled up on the couch. “I’m so glad to be home” jake said before burying his face in your neck. “And I’m so tired.” You stroked his head, you knew he had everything he could ever want, money, fame and his dream job, but your heart still ached for him. Though you were ecstatic to have him back, you hated to see him so worn out. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of you” you whispered, wanting to validate his feelings. He looked up at you and smiled, his droopy eyes creased around the corners. “I just want to forget about work for a bit” he confessed while looking at you. He almost looked vulnerable. “Isn’t the movie enough to distract you?” You looked back at him and a light chuckle slipped your lips. You knew what he was getting at. “I could think of something more effective” he mumbled before kissing you. His hand came up to grab your cheek as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth for him and the kiss turned deeper. He hummed into your mouth as your fingers dug into his scalp. He swiftly stood up in front of you, without breaking the kiss. He was leaning down over you and when he broke the kiss he rested his forehead against yours. You were the first to speak. “I’ll do whatever you need to make you feel better.” You had missed him so much it didn’t matter what you did, just as long as you were together. He smiled and hummed. He slid down to his knees and rested his head on your leg. “I will” he mumbled as he looked up at you.

His fingers went to the hem of your sweatpants before pulling them down to your feet. He let out a low hum at the sight of your underwear. He grazed his fingers over the damp spot, a consequence of the makeout you just had. He slid in a finger beneath the fabric, and when he felt your wetness his mouth opened slightly in awe. He looked up at you and grinned before pulling down your panties. “You’re so pretty” he whispered and his gaze set on your cunt. It was as if he didn’t even mean for you to hear it, it just slipped past his lips. His fingers found your slit where they gathered some of your wetness before moving to rub at your clit, slow but firm. Your hips jerked as he swiped at you and whimpers began to leave your mouth. Jake looked up at you as you writhed on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as if it was him that was being touched.

While he continued with his slow, calculated circles on your clit, he began kissing his way up your inner thigh. Sometimes he would stop to nip at your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. When he was nearing your cunt he removed his fingers and licked a painstakingly slow, long stripe from your slit all the way up to the abandoned bundle of nerves. When he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, he let out a muffled moan. Your hands quickly flew to his hair and tugged, as if you needed something to hold on to or else you’d melt into the pillows. His arms slithered around your thighs to hold you in place before placing his flattened tongue against you and dragging it up. He moved his head as his tongue rested on your clit, rubbing against it as he moved. His lips wrapped around you again, he flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking harshly.

By this point every move he made had a moan escaping your lips. His fingers crept up to your cunt and two entered you. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. He looked up at you and he felt like he could cum right then and there. He removed his mouth from you to watch his fingers disappear in and out of you. Over and over. He was painfully hard and straining against his pants, his unoccupied hand moved to his crotch and he palmed himself through his clothes. As you legs began to shiver, a warning that you were nearing your climax. He removed his fingers from you, not wanting this to end too soon, and brought them to his mouth. Your breath hitched as you watched him push them past his lips and suck them dry. His eyes never leaving yours except for when they fluttered shut at the taste.

He stood up again and kissed you tenderly before plopping down next to you. He nodded to his lap and you caught on. “That’s right baby” he mumbled against your lips as you placed yourself on his lap. You closed the millimetre gap between your lips and kissed him as you pulled on his pants and underwear. You tugged them down just enough to free his leaking cock and ground against it, smearing it with your wetness and his saliva. Jake hissed as you lined him up against your slit. “I fucking missed you” he said before kissing you as you slid down on him. You both muffled a moan as he bottomed out and filled you up.

His large hands grabbed your hips as he helped you set a pace. His eyes flickered between your grimacing face and his cock disappearing in and out of you. His mouth was agape and his breathing was heavy, bothered. You bounced on him the best you could, relishing in those moments when you fell down on him extra hard and he couldn’t help but loudly moan. One of his hands left your hip and wrapped around your back while his other hand moved to your clit. He found it with ease and stared at you, not wanting to miss your face as you fell apart. “I’m close” you whimpered and your thighs shook around him. He leant forward to kiss you before mumbling at you to go ahead. To make a mess on him. You hummed in response, though it sounded more like a moan and just seconds later your thighs clamped around Jakes. He leant back and watched as you cried out and came around his cock. You leant into the crook of his neck and his hands found their way back to your hips. While you let your body recover, he fucked into you relentlessly. You felt the rhythm fall out as he was nearing his orgasm. He bit down on your shoulder, though it didn’t muffle his sounds, before cumming inside you.

You both caught your breaths as you were trying to come back to earth. After a minute you sat up and looked at him, smiled and said, “I forgot how good it felt. How good you felt”. Your words almost seemed to make him flustered. “I’m glad” he said in between breaths and tucked himself back into his pants.

When his heart rate was back to normal and after he took one deep, relaxed breath he grabbed your hips again and flipped you on your back. Your head was resting against the edge of the couch and you gave him a questioning look. “I’ve been thinking of doing this” he mumbled as his fingers caught some of his cum that was seeping out of you. He pushed it back in, unknowingly grinning at the sight. Before you could say anything he dipped down his head between your thighs. Your breath got caught in your throat as he licked your slit. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up” he whispered before delving his tongue into you. You moaned as he fucked his cum into you, and lapped it up as it threatened to spill. His eyes were closed as he lost himself in it, in you. He was vigorous, he was good. He was probably louder than you were, constantly groaning, humming or moaning against you, sending low vibrations through your body. You clenched around his tongue and the last of his cum oozed out of you onto his eager tongue. He licked it up, sat up, leaned over you and gave you an opened mouthed kiss. You moaned at the taste of your mixed juices on his tongue. It was filthy, your lips were wet with saliva and cum from the lack of the kisses’ coordination. It was all tongue and teeth and desperation.

When there was nothing left of you on his tongue he pulled back you took a deep, contented breath. “What was that?” You asked with a smile on your red-kissed lips. He smiled at you as he tried his hardest to not get caught up in pride. “Just something I’ve been meaning to do…” Jake answered as nonchalantly as he could, which wasn’t nonchalant at all. You raised your eyebrows, “and in return…?” You teased. He chuckled before placing kisses over your neck. “Whatever you want baby.”

[kpop-imgaines-at-your-demand]

Sly plans

Pairing - Johhny Suh x reader, Jeong Jaehyun x reader, Reader x past few men.

Trigger warning - slight dub-con, mentions of rape and assaults, the reader has fucked up bad, everyone is is fucked up.

A/N - As Yangyang once told - "here because of a dream." I hope you guys don't judge in this household

Y/N was ecstatic. Her plan was working flawlessly, and this time, she was sure she’d have enough money to leave the country for good. She had managed to get her hands on two big shots simultaneously, one, a powerful music producer at a major label, and the other, the wealthy owner of a prestigious modeling agency. Hardly related, but equally useful.

She had been playing this game since she was twenty. Y/N wanted a luxurious life, and she knew she wouldn’t get it through the usual means. Some people were just born unlucky, stuck in mediocrity but she refused to be one of them. She was going to be rich, no matter what it took.

Her method was simple. She seduced rich men. She knew exactly what they wanted, and she loved her own talent for manipulation. For those who craved innocence, she became the picture of purity. For those who desired a temptress, she played the perfect vixen. Some men she had strung along all the way to marriage, only to drain their bank accounts and disappear. So far, she had changed cities three times, always staying one step ahead.

Right now, she had enough to leave the country but not enough to live the kind of life she dreamed of. She had already bought a house in her dream country, but she needed money to sustain her lifestyle. Working a regular nine-to-five was never an option. No, she’d pretend to be rich, marry into wealth—preferably some senile old man with grown children and a non-functioning libido and live out her days in luxury. And now, she had her final targets. Jeong Jaehyun, the owner of a high-end modeling agency, and Johnny Suh, a famous music director at one of the country’s top labels. Both were perfect, wealthy, generous, and hopeless romantics.

Men were so predictable. They always started by claiming it was "just a fling," but before long, they were completely smitten, trying to impress her, spending lavishly on her. She played her role well, accepting only the most expensive gifts, especially those with resale value.

She already had access to Jaehyun’s bank account. Soon, she’d empty it. That alone was enough to last her a year. As for Johnny, she’d play the helpless, struggling act a little longer—maybe shed a few tears—and he’d hand her whatever she wanted. He had already given her a luxury sports car just because she once complained about her feet hurting from walking. She’d sell it within six months, and then, Y/N would cease to exist. A new name, a new identity. She had planned everything down to the last detail.

"Pathetic men," she chuckled to herself as she tapped out a reply to Jaehyun’s message.

He wanted to take her to dinner at his home. Perfect. That meant she’d have the chance to steal something valuable from him, too.

It had been her habit since childhood—though she never called it stealing. She called it taking what she liked. If something caught her eye, it was meant to be hers. And lately, she had been taking plenty—luxury watches, rare perfumes, designer jewelry. Just little things that men like Jaehyun and Johnny wouldn’t even notice were missing. She walked to her wardrobe, running her fingers over her collection of expensive dresses. Finally, she picked the one she knew Jaehyun would love. Time to make some money. She giggled as she slipped it on.

Y/N arrived dressed to the nines. Jaehyun, on the other hand, was in his usual "casual" attire which, for him, meant a crisp button-up and tailored dress pants. She had never seen this man in anything remotely frumpy. Did he even own a pair of pajamas? Or did he sleep in dress pants too? She suppressed a smirk as an image of his bare body, lying next to her, flashed in her mind.

"Jaehyunnie," she greeted sweetly, offering him a soft smile as she stepped forward, pressing herself against him—just the way he liked it.

He placed a gentle kiss against her hair before tilting her chin up to kiss her lips. "Ah, Y/N," he murmured, his voice dripping with affection. "How are you, my love? I have a surprise for you."

Her eyes gleamed with interest. "A surprise? Is that why you called me on such short notice?"

"Yes," he smirked. "You'll love it."

He took her hand and led her toward his bedroom. She couldn't help but let out a sly smile, already thinking ahead. Straight to bed? This man is a goner. But her smile faltered the second they stepped inside. There, lounging comfortably against the headboard as if he owned the place, was Johnny Suh. He was casually scrolling through his phone, completely at ease.

Her breath hitched. No. No, no, no.

Panic surged through her veins. Before she could move, Jaehyun tightened his grip on her arm. She flinched. She had always been in control. Always a step ahead. But now, for the first time, she felt something foreign.

"What’s wrong, darling?" Jaehyun's voice was soft, but there was something sinister lurking beneath. "Don’t you like your gift?"

"What... what do you mean?" she stammered, her throat suddenly dry. For the first time in her life, she had no script to follow. No way out. A deep, smooth voice came from the bed.

"I think you know exactly what he means, Mrs. Y/N," Johnny said, finally looking up from his phone.

Her stomach dropped.

"I—I don’t know what you’re talking about," she tried, her voice wavering as she instinctively pulled at her arm. But Jaehyun’s grip only tightened. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"Don’t you?" he whispered.

Then he pulled back slightly, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

"Then let us explain it to you, you little slut."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension. Her mind raced for an escape, an excuse,anything, but for the first time, she was caught off guard. Jaehyun still held her wrist, his grip firm but not bruising yet. His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

Johnny, still lounging on the bed, finally put his phone down. He stretched lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. "You look surprised, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head. "That’s funny. Because we aren’t."

Y/N swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her breathing steady. "I don’t understand what’s going on," she said, her voice softer than usual. Play innocent. That always works.

Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "You’re good. I’ll give you that. But we’re better."

Johnny leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You think you were being careful, huh? Making sure neither of us knew about the other?" He clicked his tongue. "Cute. But you slipped up, baby."

Y/N clenched her jaw, her mind scrambling. How? She had been so careful. Separate phones. Separate accounts. Separate schedules. How did they find out?

Jaehyun finally let go of her wrist, stepping back just slightly. It didn’t feel like mercy—it felt like he wanted to watch her squirm.

"You see," he continued, crossing his arms, "it’s one thing to play around. We’re not saints, we know how the game works." He tilted his head. "But the moment you started stealing? That’s when you really fucked up."

Y/N’s pulse spiked.

Johnny hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. "Taking a few gifts? Fine. Expensive dinners? Sure. But hacking into Jaehyun’s bank account?" He whistled lowly. "That’s a bold move."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. They know.

"Don’t bother lying," Jaehyun said smoothly, taking a step closer. "We have proof.

Johnny smirked. "Screenshots. Transfers. Messages. And," he dragged out the word, "we even had a little chat with some friends in your last city."

Y/N felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet.

Jaehyun ran a finger down her arm, almost affectionate. "You were planning to disappear, weren’t you?" His voice dropped lower. "Drain my account. Sell the car Johnny gave you. Slip away before we even realized."

She forced herself to meet his gaze, her expression carefully blank. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Johnny laughed. "God, you don’t quit, do you?"

Jaehyun’s smile widened. "That’s okay, princess. We have all night to make you talk."

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She had always been in control. Always the one pulling the strings. But this time? She was the one trapped.

Y/N’s mind spun as Jaehyun dragged her onto the bed, his grip firm against her waist. She struggled instinctively, but it was useless. She wasn’t in control anymore. Johnny sauntered toward her, hands in his pockets, his smirk growing. "You really wanna know how we figured you out, sweetheart?" He tilted his head. "Alright, let’s start from the beginning."

Jaehyun let out a low chuckle from behind her, his breath warm against her ear. "You thought you were so careful," he murmured. "Separate lives. Separate lies. But you forgot one thing that powerful men talk."

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

Johnny leaned jn and said, "See, Jaehyun and I? We’ve known each other for years. Different industries, same circles. It wasn’t even hard to connect the dots." He smirked. "You really thought you were the first girl to try this?"

She clenched her jaw. "You’re lying."

Jaehyun laughed, his grip tightening slightly. "Am I?" He leaned down, lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Then why do we have proof?"

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Johnny pulled out his phone and, with a few swipes, turned the screen toward her. "Recognize this?"

Her blood ran cold. It was a bank statement, one of the accounts she had accessed.

"And this?" Another swipe. A text message exchange between her and a man from her last city, planning her next move. Jaehyun’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles against her hip, as if mocking her. "You were so focused on playing us, you didn’t realize we were playing you."

She tried to twist out of his grasp, but he only chuckled, pulling her back effortlessly. Johnny sighed dramatically. "And here I thought you actually liked me, Y/N." He pouted mockingly. "Turns out you just liked my money."

Y/N’s mouth was dry. This can’t be happening.

Jaehyun leaned in again, voice dangerously soft. "So, tell me, princess—what should we do with you?"

Y/N’s pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to step back, but Jaehyun’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her against him. Panic surged through her veins.

“How do you even know each other?” she stammered, eyes darting between them. “And how—how can you know about… me?”

That question only earned a low chuckle from both men. Johnny leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, his smirk sharp. “Oh, the girl really thought she was so smart when she’s so fucking messy.” He clicked his tongue. “Sweetheart, your life is messier than your messy blowjobs.”

Jaehyun laughed, his chest vibrating against her back. “That’s a good one.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Johnny stood from the bed, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. Instinctively, she tried to back away, but Jaehyun caught her by the waist and spun her around, forcing her onto the mattress.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing her hair out of her face, his grip still firm. “You wanted to know, right?” He leaned in, voice dark and teasing. “So let’s begin.”

Y/N swallowed hard. Whatever was coming next, she knew it wouldn’t be good.

Y/N had never felt this small in her life. She had always believed she was the smartest in the room. She had to be. That’s how she survived, how she thrived. She wasn’t just a sly little thief—she was a mastermind. And yet, here she was, caught between two men who were supposed to be nothing more than stepping stones in her grand plan.

They can’t threaten me like this. Her mind raced for an escape, a way to turn this around. Yes, she had been careless, but they didn’t know everything. She could still outsmart them, twist the narrative, make them believe what she wanted them to believe. She had done it before—why should now be any different? But she was wrong.

So, so wrong.

Because she had underestimated one crucial thing that powerful men are powerful for a reason. And men like Jaehyun and Johnny didn’t just make money, they made things happen. Finding out about her? That was the easiest thing in the world for them.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t even as smart as she thought. She had been running, sure, but she hadn’t been hiding. Not really. She left no paper trail, thinking that was enough. She had been so focused on the idea of leaving the country that she never considered the loose ends she left behind—the whispers, the patterns, the people who remembered her. And now, all of those mistakes had followed her. Fallen right into the hands of Jaehyun and Johnny.

"Strip," Johnny said, his voice dripping with arrogance. It made Y/N's blood boil.

She crossed her arms, standing her ground. "No."

Johnny smirked. "Why? You seemed to obey just fine before. Don't you wanna fuck two men, babe?" His tone was almost affectionate, mocking.

"You can't do this to me," Y/N snapped. "This isn’t right. You can’t force me. Even if you claim I stole from you, sexual assault is a bigger crime than theft."

Jaehyun clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Putting all your cards on the table at once? You still have a long way to go, Y/N."

Y/N glared at him. "You have no proof. You gave me those gifts. I didn’t hack your account—you told me the PIN code yourself. And—"

"And," Johnny cut her off, stepping closer, "you did it to six different men in three different cities. They might not have been as rich as us, but that poor schoolteacher? The one who sold his ancestral property? You drained his account and ran away."

Y/N's breath hitched. How did he know that? As if reading her mind, Jaehyun leaned in, his voice smooth and amused. "You're not as smart as you think." He tapped her forehead lightly, like a teacher scolding a child. "You thought doing it legally would make you safe, but sweetheart, that also leaves a paper trail. Did you forget?"

Y/N's stomach twisted. For the first time, real fear settled in. But Y/N didn’t back down. She lifted her chin, forcing confidence into her voice. "He gave it to me. We just had a bad breakup, but the money was mine."

Jaehyun let out a quiet chuckle, clearly amused. "Really?"

"Yes," she said, but her voice wavered. Shit. She hated how weak she felt right now. She was trapped in a penthouse in a skyscraper towering over the city. There was nowhere to run. The doors had automatic locks. Even if she managed to slip past them, where would she go?

"You know," Johnny's voice was almost casual, as if discussing the weather, "he didn’t deserve to die."

Y/N’s blood ran cold. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned to Johnny, staring at him in shock. He can’t know. He couldn’t.

Johnny smirked. "What’s wrong, darling? Forgotten something? Murder is a big crime."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. No. No, they can’t know.

At first, Y/N had only wanted money. Not love. Not attachments. Just financial freedom—the kind that let her walk away from anything, anyone. Being a mistress seemed like the simplest way. No real emotional connection, just a rich man’s affection in exchange for gifts, vacations, and power.

That’s how she found Mr. Nakamoto. A well-respected architect, middle-aged, wealthy, and most importantly—married. She had been careful. Played the role of the sweet, exciting young woman who stroked his ego and made him feel alive again. It worked. It always worked. Until he found out. He had been snooping through her things, checking her phone when she was in the shower. Maybe it was another man’s name, maybe it was the receipts for things she had already sold but something set him off. The man snapped.

"You think I don’t know what you are?" he had spat, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength for his age. "A leech. A thief."

Y/N had laughed—actually laughed. She was used to men getting possessive, used to them lashing out before inevitably giving in. But then he hit her. Not a slap, not a shove—a full-force strike across the face that sent her stumbling back into the glass coffee table. Then a kick , then another and another. She couldn't even gasp for air let alone crawl away. He said he'll kill her and she truly believed him for the moment.

She had barely managed to scramble up when she heard it—the wheezing. The sharp, labored gasps. Mr. Nakamoto had asthma. His hands clutched his chest, his eyes wide with panic. He reached into his pocket, but his movements were clumsy, desperate.

Y/N spotted the inhaler on the ground, just out of his reach. She picked it up and held it over her head. Nakamoto's breath rattled. He clawed at her arm, trying to grab it and begging. She could have given it to him. Could have saved him. Instead, she just stood there.

Watched.

When he collapsed, she screamed. Called the police in a frantic, devastated voice. Said his inhaler must have failed. She cried. She performed. And it worked. His wife was furious, of course. Suspected her. But the scandal of him having a mistress made the situation messy. Too much shame for the family, too much money involved. And money solved everything. A few bribes. A few carefully placed connections. The case was closed. She had gotten away with it. Or so she thought.

"Want to see something disturbing?"

Johnny's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned her head slowly, stomach twisting as he held up his phone.

A video.

Her breath caught in her throat.

On the screen, there she was. Standing over Nakamoto. Holding the inhaler. Watching.

Then another clip - her calmly, coldly draining the inhaler before the police arrived, making sure it was empty.

Then another - her finding the hidden security camera, thinking she had destroyed the footage.

She felt the blood drain from her face.

Jaehyun smirked, watching her reaction. "You really thought you got rid of everything, didn't you?"

"You... how did you—?" Her voice broke.

Johnny leaned in, voice mocking. "You're messy, babe. Really messy."

Her hands clenched into fists. No. No. She had planned everything. How the fuck did they have this?

"Who do you think designed the building?" Jaehyun mused, tilting his head. "You didn’t even think about where that footage was backed up, did you?"

Nakamoto was an architect. He had built places just like the one he died in. Places owned by people like Jaehyun. She felt sick.

"You know," Johnny said, watching her carefully, "we could have just called the police."

Jaehyun hummed in agreement. "But where's the fun in that?"

Y/N’s breath came fast, shallow. Her chest burned, her pulse thundering in her ears. She wasn’t stupid. Not anymore. Years ago, she might have panicked. Might have made the wrong move.

But now?

She knew when to fight and when to surrender. So, she took a slow, steady breath and did what she did best—adapted. Her fingers trailed to the zipper at the back of her dress, pulling it down in one smooth motion. The fabric slipped down her shoulders, pooled at her feet She stepped out of it, bare in the dim lighting. Her gaze flickered between Johnny and Jaehyun, searching for their reactions. Measuring their expressions.

She could still control this. She could still—

A low tsk cut through the silence. Johnny tilted his head, watching her with mock amusement.

"Hmm... honey," he drawled, crossing his arms. "Everything off."

Y/N stilled. Her nails dug into her palms, her body momentarily locking up. She could feel Jaehyun’s gaze on her, sharp and assessing. They weren’t fooled. They knew exactly what she was trying to do. And they weren’t letting her have the upper hand.

Swallowing hard, she forced a small, obedient smile and hooked her hand on her lacy thong and pulled it down. As the last piece of clothing hit the floor, she lifted her chin, masking her unease behind a carefully crafted expression. Johnny smirked. Jaehyun stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"Good," he murmured, brushing a knuckle over her cheek. Y/N didn’t flinch or react. She couldn’t. Not yet. She had given up control for now. But her mind was already spinning, calculating, waiting. Because no matter what she would find a way out......

"Huh," Jaehyun said casually, stretching his arms over his head. "I'm thirsty."

Then, he nudged her. "Go get me something to drink."

"Me too," Johnny added, lounging on the bed like this was the most normal situation in the world.

Y/N was stunned for a moment, frozen in place. Then, without a word, she turned and walked out of the bedroom toward the minibar. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs.

This was bad.

So, so bad.

She had played dangerous games before, but never like this. Never with men who were just as—no, more—dangerous than her. Usually, she had no shame in displaying her body. She knew what it looked like. Knew how to use it. But now? Now, she felt vulnerable, exposed and trapped.

Her fingers curled against the counter as she stared at the bottles of expensive liquor, her mind racing. She might die here.

Stabbed. Strangled. Beaten. Or worse - raped to death. And no one would ever know.

She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain neutral. She scanned the minibar. Was there something she could use? A weapon? A distraction? Her lips parted slightly in frustration.

Damn it.

If they had gone through so much trouble to trap her, they might have hidden cameras too. She was naked. Where the hell could she even hide anything?

Could she run? Run outside, screaming that she was about to be assaulted? No. It wouldn’t work. They had bigger proof against her. They could twist the story. The police wouldn’t believe her over them.

Her nails dug into the polished wood of the minibar. She had to stay quiet. She Had to play smart. She Had to find a way to distract them long enough to escape for good.

She had played many roles in her life—the innocent, the temptress, the victim. But this was different. This wasn’t just a game anymore. She was trapped. Johnny tilted his head, eyes roaming over her like a predator sizing up its prey. Jaehyun stood behind her, his presence looming, suffocating.

"Tell me something, sweetheart," Johnny said, stepping closer. "Did you really think you could play us?"

Y/N didn’t answer. She knew better than to speak without thinking.

Stay calm. Stay smart.

So, she did what she knew best—adapt. With a slow breath, she dipped between them, lowering her head as if she had already admitted defeat. Let them think they had won.

"I'm so uncomfortable," Johnny muttered, stretching his legs out on the bed. "Y/N, get rid of my shoes."

A flicker of resentment burned in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She dipped down in front of him, moving as seductively as possible, letting them see her body in just the right way. She had always been good at this. Men were easy. A soft, deliberate sigh left her lips as she slid Johnny’s shoes off, massaging his feet lightly, trailing her fingers over his ankles, his calves, teasing and distracting.

Jaehyun watched her closely, his expression unreadable. When she turned to him, kneeling at his feet, she placed a delicate hand on his knee, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes weren’t mocking anymore. They were assessing. Almost… intrigued.

Good.

Maybe, just maybe,she could still win this game.

Jaehyun’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"Rub yourself."

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, searching for any sign that he was joking. But Jaehyun didn’t joke.

"Touch yourself," he repeated, tilting his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl lazily. "And if you finish before we finish this drink, we might consider letting you go."

Johnny smirked from the bed, stretching out like this was just another form of entertainment for him.

Y/N’s fingers curled into her palms. What the hell was this request? But she knew men. She knew their weaknesses. They loved power. Control. Humiliation. And she? She was a survivor.

So she swallowed down her pride, forced herself to exhale as if she wasn’t completely trapped, and let her hand dip lower. She knew exactly how to fake it. A soft gasp. A shift of her hips. The slight tremble in her thighs. She performed. Men were fools. Johnny took another slow sip of his drink, watching with a lazy sort of amusement, while Jaehyun leaned back in his chair, observing her with those sharp, calculating eyes. Y/N kept one thing in mind. Timing. She knew they were drinking slowly, savoring the moment. Draw it out. Make them believe it. When their glasses were nearing empty, she let out a final, breathy moan, her body shuddering—perfectly timed. She stilled, chest rising and falling dramatically. And for a moment, she thought she had won. Until Jaehyun let out a quiet laugh.

"You’re so fucking fake."

Y/N’s stomach dropped. Her eyes darted to his. He wasn’t smiling.

"Now," Jaehyun murmured, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Let’s see how real we can make it, shall we?"

Y/N’s breath trembled as she let tears well up in her eyes. If seduction didn’t work, maybe desperation would. Her voice was soft, breaking just enough to sound genuine.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I made a mistake, okay? Please… I’ll return all your money. I swear. I’ll never set foot in this city again. Just—please."

She let her shoulders shake, her hands clutching her shoulders as if she were utterly helpless. For a moment, there was silence. Then, Johnny chuckled. Jaehyun exhaled, setting his glass down with a soft clink.

"And how exactly does that help us?" Johnny mused, tilting his head.

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

"Letting you go," Jaehyun added, standing up, "just means you get to move to another city and do it all over again."

She swallowed. "No, I won’t—"

"You will," Johnny cut in, his voice smooth, confident. "Because that’s what you do, right? You take. You manipulate. You run."

Jaehyun took slow, deliberate steps toward her, his presence suffocating. "You thought you were so smart, didn’t you?"

Y/N flinched but forced herself to hold his gaze. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face almost tenderly.

"Here’s the problem, sweetheart," Jaehyun murmured. "We don’t just want our money back."

Johnny’s smirk deepened as he leaned back on the bed, eyes dark with amusement. "We want you."

Y/N’s blood ran cold.

"You wanted a life of luxury, didn’t you?" Jaehyun continued, fingers trailing down her jaw. "Fine. We’ll give it to you. But on our terms."

Johnny grinned. "No more running, baby. You’re ours now.

Y/N's body tensed as she landed face-first on the bed. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing through every possible way out of this. She was screwed. Completely, utterly screwed. She could feel them hovering over her—two powerful men who now had complete control. Tears welled in her eyes, this time real.

No, no, I can still get out of this. I’ve slept with men I didn’t want before—it’s just like that, nothing else. If I play along, I can still escape. Panic surged through her veins. Johnny moved beside her, his fingers trailing down her cheek with unsettling tenderness.

"Darling," he murmured, "before something silly comes up in that pretty little head of yours… remember the house?"

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

No. No, no, no.

She jerked her head up, eyes wide. Do they know everything? Johnny's smirk was slow, dangerous.

"You can’t run there, can you?" he whispered.

Jaehyun chuckled from behind her, his fingers ghosting over her bare shoulder.

"You really thought you were untouchable, didn't you?" he mused. "Like you weren’t leaving a trail of evidence everywhere you went. Did you think we wouldn't find the offshore account? The fake documents?"

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face. They know everything. Johnny tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was something else there, something even worse—possession.

"You’re ours now, sweetheart," he said. "And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it."

Y/N had never felt more trapped. Y/N shuddered. She had never felt truly trapped before. Even when things went wrong in the past, she had always found a way out—a lie, a distraction, a well-timed escape. But this? This was different. Johnny and Jaehyun weren’t just rich men she could manipulate. They weren’t the type to be fooled by soft sighs and empty promises. They had planned for this. Every move she thought she had control over, they had already anticipated. And that terrified her.

She took a shaky breath. Fine. If they wanted her to break, she’d break. Or at least, she’d make them think she had. She swallowed her fear, forcing her muscles to relax, her expression to shift. It was just another role to play. If she played along—gave them what they wanted—maybe she’d get a little freedom. Maybe she’d find a way out. Johnny tilted his head, watching her carefully. Jaehyun smirked, as if he could see right through her. She forced herself to meet their eyes, her lips parting slightly as she whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Johnny chuckled, low and amused. Jaehyun leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.”

[multiheadcanons]

AS OF WRITING THIS, IT’S MY MOMS BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAX’S MOM! I LOVE YA! MERCS AND THEIR MOTHERS

scout: meet patricia, but her friends call her patty! you do not get to call her patty. patty is a woman with a good head on her shoulders. she’s just tired. eight boys will take it out of you. patricia willis is the matriarch of the willis family. nothing escapes her eye, it’s just a matter of whether or not she wants to do anything about it at that time. the woman is almost always busy, and always getting run ragged behind many grown men. this doesn’t negate her ability to have fun. with a generous sense of humor and always in search of a hearty belly laugh, things with patty can go 0-100 so fast in any and every direction. interacting with patty shows you how scout would behave if scout were a pretty woman. a glass of wine located in one hand, and her phone in the other, nobody can say this woman doesn’t work for her money. she is almost always on the phone. cutting deals, making moves, and getting people whacked. oh yeah. she’s a mob mama. she feels bad sometimes because scout doesn’t call her as often as she would like, and when he does he’s normally wanting to talk to his brothers, or his cousins, and never her. she hears that he’s doing okay. that he’s happy. that his coworkers are nice enough, and he’s making money, and he promises that he’ll come home to visit one day. but he’s always so busy. she feels she brought this upon herself. she could never give her little jer-bear the time he deserved. and he left for it. when she finally managed to track him down for a surprise visit, the team was ecstatic to meet her. and not just because she’s got mob ties. scout has mob ties and that has never made them treat him any nicer. they just wanted to see the woman who created a kid like scout. she keeps a baby picture of him in the tub in her purse, it’s her favorite thing to pull out and show people. the team does get that photo copied so they can all have one. they just love poking fun at this kid whenever they can. she is nice enough to not absolutely mollywhop spy’s shit, but the second spy catches wind of her perfume, he is off the base. he can’t be seen by her. his head will be on a platter.

soldier: meet rose marie, friends call her rosie. an older woman with a no nonsense attitude, the team didn’t get to meet rosie. they just hear of her through soldier. and when he describes her, it makes sense why he is the way he is. oddly respectful, just weird. but she sounded weird. with unconventional punishment methods, and an odd sense of morality. like her work was wrong but the answer was right, and with soldier she got... close. close to correct. but she did love her son. as far as soldier was concerned, she was the best thing in his life. he misses her.

pyro: pyro doesn't know much about their mom. they weren't really given any time to be with them. pyro remembers being bounced around from foster home to foster home, and they don't really remember who was connected to what house. some of them were nicer than others, none of them kept pyro. so at that point... they don't really feel like they had someone they could really call a mom. they remember their older sister, but the memory fades more every day. it's a big reason pyro considers the team their family. the team has never let them go, even when pyro felt like they wanted to. they like that.

demo: meet isla! a firecracker of a woman, there was never a time this woman could be considered "nice", "sweet", "soft", or really any other stereotypically motherly trait. that was the men's job, not hers. it was her job to keep the household running like a tight ship. there was no room for any more people to be easygoing in the degroot line. especially in their line of work, where laziness can, has, and does get them killed. isla is honestly not sure how tavish has survived as long as he has. don't get her wrong, she's happy for it, she loves her boy, but she wouldn't think he made it to thirty. which makes her wonder how tavish makes his money. he urges her to not think about it. he takes care of her and that's all he thinks she should be concerned about. isla does not visit. she doesn't want to attempt to traverse an airport. so demo travels to visit her. this doesn't bother demo, really. it gives him plenty of days off, which is something the rest of the team doesn't seem to do. if anyone wants to join him, he welcomes it. it is easier to handle his mother when there's more than just him there. there's more targets for his mother to focus on. not that she is a woman who is constantly on the attack, it is just difficult, especially since the loss of her vision, to remain focused on just one person, or one thing. she never really grew out of her need to be kept in the know of everything. tavish has slowly been attempting to break her of this habit.

heavy: meet olga! the team would lay their lives down for this woman. heavy does not want that. the team would immediately step to battle for olga. heavy does not want that either. olga is the favorite of the mothers. she is kind, she is humorous, yet she is a very no-nonsense woman and the team loves her for it. they love how they can really just relax around her. heavy never feels like he can relax around his mother. his hands are normally very full with the team in and of themselves, he doesn't want his mother to see that he does, what he considers, a mediocre job at reeling in seven men and a pyro. olga doesn't know the words to tell her son that she doesn't give a shit. that all she wants is for him to be happy, and healthy, and hopefully keeping his head above water. so it does bother her that he is almost always so stressed. but she knows that there isn't enough methods of relaxation in the world for her son. she is very excited for him to retire. she just wants him to relax for a moment. and as she gets to meet the team, especially out of battle, and eventually out of mann co. entirely, she does get why he's decided these people are his friends. they keep him laughing. they keep him loose. they annoy him, but annoyance isn't stress, so she doesn't mind when her son lets out an exhausted groan. she's just happy he's living what can only be considered the closest thing to a normal life he can get.

engineer: engineer misses his mom. she passed shortly after he inherited the job at teufort, and she was one of the best women engineer ever had the honor of being related to. meet lillian, though most everyone knew her as lily. she was what the conaghers called the artist. every family had to have one, and she filled that role beautifully. and dell is glad for it, because her artistic eye influenced his mechanical mind. it made him more creative. it made him think outside the box more. and most of the conaghers would admit that they are not the most out there people. they do their jobs, they do it well, and they leave it at that. but his mother made the world seem more like something to be conquered, and less like something to resist being swallowed by. and she was never unafraid to get her boots dirty. engineer spent a lot of time around his mother. at least he feels like he did. he tried to spend as much time with her as he could. he did have to spend a lot of time around his dad. so his siblings got to be around his mother more than he did. but he was grateful for any moment he got to have with her. he just misses her.

medic: meet greta! greta was always a wild woman, and you would probably never meet another woman who is as vicious, intelligent, or frankly beautiful. though, if you tell her that, she will downplay the compliments. when interacting with greta, it makes a lot of sense where the doctor gets… pretty much most of his personality. she is loud, and silly, with some of the most uncalled for questions she can come up with. and the doctor always stayed around his mother. more than his father. and then his father died and that ended the opportunity for him to come out as anything other than a male version of his mom. greta, according to all who interact with her, is a wildfire of a woman with an imagination bigger than she should be handling, but dammit does she have a hold on that brain of hers. she is fairly certain she would lose her head despite it being attached to her neck. they have the same smile. along every wall in her home are photos of her two favorite men. professional photos of her husband (god rest his soul), her son’s many degrees and educational accolades, as well as some news clippings of the start of his life of crime. she thinks he looks very handsome in his mugshots! on the mantle of her home is her husband’s ashes. she misses her husband every day. but she gets to look at her son and see him, as well. he looks an awful lot like him. greta is beloved by the team. they don’t get to see her often, as the doctor usually goes to visit her, but greta being on the base is grounds for many bad decisions and fun stories. and she’s a beast in the kitchen. and the doctor is in much better spirits with his mother around! though, depending on your relationship with the man, could be just as much of a bad thing as it is a good thing. she loves watching her son work! she will tell him she never had a chance to accomplish the great things he does. and he hates when she speaks of herself that way. they don’t argue, and the doctor is more than happy to help tell a few stories of his childhood.

sniper: i don't think that snipes' parents have canon names, so i'm gonna give her one. meet jane! always known as a kind woman, mick was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she's not ashamed to admit that! the sudden appearance of a child in her life allowed her to truly shine as the homemaker she not only wanted to be, but was essentially destined to be. she had a tight hold on the mundy household, and ensured it ran as smoothly as any household with a rowdy, random boy crashed into. objectively the nicer and more supportive parent between her and her husband, it did turn snipes' into a mama's boy. he adores his ma. he would do anything for her, and if his parents were coming for a visit (which is very rare because sniper didn't think he would be able to explain everything) everyone takes off. they will not battle, just so sniper doesn't have to do too much to keep his parents both comfortable and out of the know. she thinks the team is... odd. but they're nice enough to her boy. so she doesn't really care. as long as they're looking out for him, she doesn't mind the team at all. and they adore her. they think she's funny, and truly just a doll. jane gives away that snipes likes to bake. she forces him in the kitchen to help her out, and it hits the team like a train that all of the pastries are normally him. they almost wonder how they didn't figure that out sooner, it's not like he's great at pretending.

spy: spy doesn't speak of his family often. what he's mentioned offhandedly, that the team has bothered to remember, is that his mother was a very mild mannered woman. usually quiet, and never showing herself, at least to spy, to be a woman of a rough nature, she was the softest experience spy ever had. and he didn't want to experience anything softer. his mother was a kind woman. a sweet woman. a motivated, and motivating woman. she was a good person. a hard worker, and a respectable lady. she passed shortly after spy became an adult. he thinks of her often. but who wouldn't?

[lightlycareless]

just had to write it.

warnings: mentions of infidelity (it's pretty obvious) this is a nanamixy/n but with naoyaxy/n on the side hahahaha

It’s not really fair for Nanami, but I can’t shake the idea of Y/N being a single mom after being in a relationship with Naoya for many years that even ended with having a daughter together, but after unfortunate successions the two break up (if not divorce), few other things happen in the way, and you end up dating Nanami.

And he was happy, at least in the very beginning, because he’s been pining after you since high school. Truth to be told, Nanami kept a close eye on you with the hope you’ll eventually dump that jerk everyone knew was undoubtedly undeserving of you; so, when that finally happened, he was more than ecstatic about showing you all the things you’ve missed.

All the things you deserved.

It was a dream come true when you reciprocated his advances; albeit a bit surprising, since the two never interacted beyond a simple friendship… but you’d soon reveal the subtle attraction you harbored for him.

“It was always there, I just… set my eyes on somewhere else.”

But now that this obstacle is gone, you can finally give Nanami the chance he’s been longing for and be happy.

Yet, this relationship wasn’t going to develop as smoothly as he desired.

And not because you already had a child, no, not at all. Nanami was completely charmed by young Naomi, who though looked just like her father, her nature was unequivocally yours. Besides, it’s your daughter, how could he not cherish all that came from you?

The problem dwindled in the fact that, because you had a child from another relationship, Naoya vividly remained in the picture. A joint custody that meant occasional visits on the agreed upon days, usually weekends, where he’d come to your location or you’d go to his, staying a while to check everything was adequate for Naomi, before returning to him.

Nanami didn’t suspect anything at all, if anything, he was mostly surprised that Naoya was mature enough to come to this compromise, the Zen’in heir always struck him as the irresponsible type, a father you wouldn’t be able to count on and thus granting you full custody of Naomi, or at least making it impossibly hard for you to maintain an amicable relationship, less a commendable life for your daughter.

But with enough persistence, the unwarranted comments from outsiders would soon begin to chirp at his insecurities, leading to the consideration of adultery on your part thanks to long time you seem to spend with Naoya during his visits.

Alongside an intimacy that wasn’t necessary for him to perform his responsibilities, the secrecy in which you guarded your phone when he called, or when he sent you messages to seemingly discuss Naomi’s wellbeing. Nanami was never one to pry, but if you had nothing to hide… then why did you act this way?

Eventually, he had gotten more than enough reason to suspect, if not confront. To assume there was something more going on, something that definitely shouldn’t if it was just a matter of co-parenting. If you were already with another man.

But it wasn’t until Naomi’s birthday party that Nanami realized the truth, in the way your face warmed up when Naoya arrived just in time for his daughter to blow out the candles and cut the cake, rushing to his side with a bright, welcoming smile, subtly intertwining your fingers with his as you set aside the obscenely large number of gifts he brought along for Naomi (and you, he imagines) before guiding him to her.

Stripping his baby out of Nanami’s arms once you urged him to:

“Kento—give me Naomi, her papa is here to see her.”

That’s when he knew. Through the sweet sound of you calling Naoya papa… that’s when he realized he was nothing but the third wheel in his own relationship.

And yet, when he had all evidence in favor, he refused to say anything. Perhaps to avoid making a scene and ruin Naomi’s birthday, inconvenience guests and make this situation bigger than it probably was.

But even when days passed, he remained quiet. When you kept seeing Naoya, Nanami feigned ignorance.

Why?

To not lose you again, simple as that.

Because he supposes than having you like this, close but in the arms of another man, is better than not having you at all.

:) i have another piece. i am not done with this suffering.

[fictionalmenxyn]

☼𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☼

Pairing: Rafe x cargirl!reader

Warnings: language (mentioned once) inappropriate/suggestive talking, making out and Rafe slaps your ass once (also I haven’t got the best of car knowledge I know car model names but nothing to do with the insides of the cars 😭😭)

-–——-

You pulled up to the country club parking lot, parking you finally finished project. You held a proud smile to your face ever since you finished your car, so almost four hours. You got out of your car, taking a quick picture and sending it to Rafe with the caption ‘outside and waiting 😁’ he quickly replied ‘we’re on our way rn!’

Soon enough emerging from the entrance of the country club. Rafe, Topper and Kelce appeared. You jog over and practically leap into Rafe’s arms. He smiles and pecks your lips “hey baby, let’s check out this car.” You grabbed his hand and guided the three of them over to your newly modified Toyota GT86. It was hardly feminine compared to your friend’s cars. But you didn’t car. You were into cars since you were a child. Your father/mother took you to car shows as much as possible. Also taking you to nascar and drag races whenever they were near enough to drive or fly a short flight.

You were forever grateful for the money you and your family had. Being able to modify a car costed a lot. But you could afford it and not have damaged wallets.

You motioned to the car “her she is!” Kelce let out a low whistle “Damn, Y/n, nice whip you go here” Kelce ran his hand over the hood.

Your car was eye candy to them. A stone grey Toyota GT86. Small but sleek spoiler on the back. A nice sounding exhaust on the back. The interior had LED inside, along with a small screen to use for music and other things. The black leather seats all new and fresh.

Rafe spoke “sweet car, baby” you smile “thanks, take a look inside, then you can pop the hood and take a look at my work.” You smiled proudly. Rafe opened the car door and sat in the drivers seat. He twisted the keys in the ignition and you all heard the engine come to life. The exhaust roars and crackles then muffles. The boys were ecstatic. Topper sat in the passenger seat as Kelce leaned over and looked inside the car “gotta say, Y/n, this look amazing since I last saw it.”

You laughed “maybe it’s because the last time you saw it, it was gutted out and completely bare??” He smirked “fair point, but still… looks great now.”

Rafe reached under the steering wheel and pulled the small lever to pop the hood. You smile and stuck your small fingers under the hood and lifted it up; putting the stand under the hook.

The boys all walked around and stood next to you, looking at the insides of the car. “Jesus, Y/n, got some gear in here, eh?” You smiled at Topper’s comment. “Only the best of the best, you know how I am with cars.”

Rafe put his hand on your hip as he leaned over and took a closer look “damn, babe, you got some serious engine right here.” You nodded “thanks, that took the longest, my dad and I took like… one hour? Just to get the engine in.” Topper let out a low whistle.

Rafe walked over to the back and open one of the back doors and looked at the backseats. Kelce grinned “what you looking for? Room to fu-” “shut up Kelce!” You smirked at Rafe’s quick interjection.

You hung out with the guys at the country club after they took a look at your car.

And yes the boys did ask for a ride home, and yes, you did let them.

You got into the drivers seat and buckled up. You turn the keys in the ignition and the car roared to life once again. Rafe sat in the passenger, Top and Kelce sat in the back. You put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Rafe leaned back into the leather seat and sighed. He turned his head to look at you as you kept your eyes in the road.

He thought it was so hot, his girl, driving a modified sporty car. Not some pretty little fiat 500 like most girls your age does. He liked that about you, you wouldn’t expect it from him. But he loved it about you.

Seeing you behind the wheel, looking smaller than you would in a fiat 500. He was also grateful that you had knowledge of cars. His legs would’ve been crushed every time in your car if you liked smaller cars.

He smirked “hey, y/n/n? You still staying over tonight?” You nodded as you stopped at the red light “yeah, why?” “Can we go on a late night dr-” “yep” he smiled to himself as he turned to look out the windshield.

Topper and Kelce talked with you as you continued to drive. You eventually dropped both of the guys off, leaving you and Rafe alone.

The car was in a comfortable silence, Rafe’s hand was on your thigh the whole car ride. His cold rings against your hot tan skin as you wore your shorts. He grinned to himself. You could see him in the corner of your eye “babe? Why’re you smiling like that?”

“Just thinking of ways to break in the car”

You rolled your eyes knowing his head was way too far in the gutter as he had been smiling to himself for more than five minutes.

“You seriously wanna do it in here? Your truck is bigger.”

“So? It’s cooler in here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Am I laughing, princess?”

You saw him lean forward in his seat and tapped his fingers against the small screen on your dashboard. You raised an eyebrow when you saw him put google maps up. “What’re you doing?”

“Just drive there, it’s our spot…”

“You better pay for McDonald’s if you make a mess in my new car…”

“Oh I’ll buy whatever you want, baby girl.”

You rolled your eyes, but still drove to your spot. You parked up, Rafe wasted no time. He crashed his lips into yours as if he hadn’t seen you in months, even if it’s only been a few hours. Both of your lips moved in sync. Rafe was quickly asking for entry when he slid his tongue against your bottom lip, you accepted. His hands were quick to grab at your clothes and remove them, he grinned “backseat, baby, c’mon..” as you leaned on the console to climb into the back. You felt a sharp sting as Rafe connected his hand to your ass cheek. The things that boy made you feel… HMM…

Yep, you broke in your new car…

And yes, he did buy you both food after. Then had another round in his room later that evening… the man had needs. Like always… he had your eyes rolling… for both reasons…

Have a good day/night all! 🫶

[totaly-obsessed]

Hi first off all I don’t know who you write for but could you maybe write something about pregnancy with Niamh Charles or Maya Le Tissier???

Picture Time

Niamh Charles x reader request

-> Going through pregnancy with Niamh

-> @anon hope you like it! It is a bit shorter than I wanted to but I ran out of ideas

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“Baby, please! Just stand up straight against that wall!” Niamh has been trying to convince you to take pictures for a month now.

A month ago you had finally gotten a positive pregnancy test, and ever since confirming with doctors, your fiancé was obsessed with getting you in front of a wall. “That sounds like I’m a prison inmate baby.”

The sly smirk on her face was nothing new – any time you said something remotely sensual, or something she could misinterpret she turned into a horny teenage boy. “Oh! Didn’t know that you had a role-play kink, baby. So you’re the inmate – what am I the hot police officer?” You couldn’t swat her wandering hand fast enough, letting out an annoyed huff. “Don’t lie baby – you would kill to see me in a uniform and I know it.”

Her cocky stance changed immediately when you tried to get away from the empty wall. “No wait! I’m sorry!” Kiss after kiss was pressed on your forehead while she grabbed your wrists, gently maneuvering you back into position – one side facing the wall, the other facing Niamh. “I’ll take one picture every week and watch you two grow!” That was fine in itself but you didn’t understand why that had to happen in your underwear.

The footballer tried to calm your nerves down again and again once she knew of them – of course, your body was changing, how could it not? But to her, you looked perfect, you started to show just a little and both of you had noticed once she had made you stand in front of the wall.

While Niamh was ecstatic throughout the first months, you started to get nervous.

Niamh however, was very useless when it came to the nerves “Just don’t stress about it – relax, baby!” she had said when you told her about your fears. “I have a small human being depending on me to grow strong and healthy for a whole nine months, what’s to stress about, right?” Your snappy response was enough for her to realize, that you really did mean it, you were scared.

The defender realized that her life hadn’t changed all that much ever since you had gotten pregnant – but yours was completely different than before, and she became a lot more understanding.

Everything hurt, you started to swell up and gain weight, and your hormones were in overdrive – driving you both crazy. Quite a few people started to distance themselves from you, a lot of them being old friends who didn’t want anything to do with children, and others who were just disappointed that you didn’t want to hit the night scene anymore. “So what if you’re pregnant – you can still come!” One of them had actually said that, and she accused you of being selfish when you explained, that you just couldn’t go to clubs right now – no matter how much you wanted to.

You also had to give up a lot of food, that Niamh started to obsess over once she realized that some things just weren’t good for the baby growing inside of you. “Carbs, coffee, dairy… this kid better be real sweet for everything I had to give up.” Yeah – breakfast had changed a lot and it was now up to your fiancé to make it, as she desperately tried to ignore your whines for coffee.

But she was your rock throughout the whole pregnancy – she never invalidated your feelings and she was always happy to just be with you, no matter what state you were in, helping you through the pain and making you laugh so much that “I just peed myself a little.” Was not an uncommon sentence in your home.

Winning the FA Women’s Super League 2022/23 was huge for Niamh, but it was even better to see you after the match – with a round belly, carrying your child. “We did it, baby!” She was so excited as she was trying to scream over the noise of the crowd, climbing into the friends and family section, and pulling you into a deep, passionate, and bruising kiss. “You did it, baby!”

But after the initial hugs and kisses you noticed the smell – usually you didn’t care but having a sensitive stomach was a bitch. “Baby I love you, but please don’t come close to me until you’ve had a shower or I’ll puke on you.” Everyone in your vicinity laughed at your pouting girlfriend, but they quickly stopped once you wouldn’t hug them either – until Millie ushered them into the changerooms.

After winning the league there were a couple of formalities to go through – such as taking professional pictures with the trophy – and smitten as Niamh was, she took you with her. Both of you had picked a gorgeous dress to match Niamh’s stunning blue suit. Everything was going absolutely fine until it came to the shoes.

“Fuck this!” Sam swears she has never seen Niamh faster than that. “What? What is it?”

“I can’t see the ground anymore, my stomach is so big and I can’t get these dumb shoes on!” With a soft coo, your fiancé started to wipe the frustrated tears away, that were making their way down your cheeks. “Awwwh, baby. You’re absolutely fine.” She helped you into the shoes and pulled you up.

After a few kisses and calming back rubs, you were fit to leave the room, seeing Niamh’s teammates eying you with concern. “Everything’s fine guys! It is just that growing a human being is really hard.”

Both Niamh and you were counting down the days to your due date – your fiancé’s ever-growing picture collection on her phone being the most watched thing she had on there while you literally crossed off days on the calendar, getting nervous when you started to see the circled one.

Just a couple more weeks to go.

“Baby I think we should start thinking about the birth plan by now.”

“Oh, I have a plan. Get her out.”