#burst posting from my drafts

[ritual---impulse]

The way the Pale is described, I can't help but think of Michael Biberstein's works:

[javierduffy]

ohh javieran … javieran post kieran’s death .., javier is a poor lonesome cowboy in america a long way from home with no more sweetheart to sit and talk with him ooohhh can anyone hear me ….

[sysig]

Challenge level: Impossible (Patreon)

[midnightwind]

having another fantastic bout of Extreme Fatigue* and I have gotten negative writing done this week so Terrible news for the fic update

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #47

I would turn back time just to see you again

Imagine dis…

I just needed to clean my drafts and this one is a bit overdue. Also I think I saw a post similar to this one and I cant find them anymore so either way kudos to them cause their post inspired me to make one of my own.

…..

Danny Phantom, now Danyal al Ghul, had found himself hurled into the past. Panic clawed at him. He didn’t need to guess, he already knew something had happened to Clockwork, his mentor, his protector, the Ancient of Time himself. A disturbance in the Infinite Realms had yanked him forcibly back into his younger body, leaving only his soul intact and including the full weight of bearing the title the Ancient of Space.

And he had landed here.

In Nanda Parbat.

In the very place where his life had ended the first time.

But Danyal was not without resources. He had memories. He had the power. And most importantly, he had training. He understood he couldn't act suspicious not here, surrounded by League members who could smell weakness.

So he slipped into his former role.

He became the perfect illusion of young Danyal, the former him, the wide-eyed, devoted son who adored his mother and idolized his older twin, Damian.

Every smile, every soft word during the rare times where only he and Damian are together, every clumsy move was calculated, down to the tremble in his voice and the slight hesitations in his steps. His every expression was carefully crafted to mimic innocence.

As much innocence he was allowed within this halls.

Danyal was acting, and he was doing it so well that even Talia and Damian, the supposed two people who knew him best, never questioned him.

Not at first.

He trained in secret, pushing his ghostly powers to the edge while outwardly struggling with swordplay in which Damian mastered months ago. He let it show in his own body language on how confused he is during strategy meetings, deferential during training sessions. He laughed and cried. Anything to keep suspicion off his true nature.

He will avoid the Fentons at this time around at all costs. As much he adored Jazz and Dani he wouldn’t want to feel his own organs rearranging itself and beating outside of his own body for the second time.

But he will wait, wait for the fateful day where Ra would only need one heir. The day where Danyal Al Ghul could never grip his sword right as to follow the order to fight by the Demon Head.

The day Damian had killed him without so much as a second thought always vying for the rightful title as the heir.

But something went wrong.

A week into his second life, Danyal watched with growing horror as events began to diverge from the past he remembered. Talia and Damian that was once Ra’s al Ghul’s most loyal heirs, had killed Ra’s themselves. The man who had cast his shadow over their entire lives was gone, and now both mother and twin looked at Danyal with sharp, unsettling intensity.

Family dinners became mandatory, silent meetings took place behind locked doors, and Danyal could feel the weight of their stares lingering on him longer than ever before.

He clung to his mask of naivety, knowing any slip might reveal the powerful being hidden beneath the skin of a boy.

He almost convinced himself that he could handle it—that he could steer this altered fate back on course.

That deep down Damian still wanted to be the only one. The one true heir.

Until a horde of colorfully dressed vigilantes stormed Nanda Parbat’s gates.

As Danyal al Ghul, he had to respond.

Katana in hand, neutral expression plastered on his face, he sprinted toward the throne room. He braced himself for bloodshed, for the clash of steel.

Instead, he heard shouting.

Bursting through the doors, he found not assassins or invaders—but Gotham's vigilante elite: Nightwing, Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin. Only Robin was absent. They stood frozen, as pale as specters, staring at him.

At the boy with Damian's face—and crystal blue eyes.

….

Six Years in the Future:

The Batfamily had been losing a brutal war against Eclipso—the personification of God’s wrath, possessing Ra’s al Ghul’s body, corrupted by endless dips in the Lazarus Pit. Eclipso had shattered mountains, unleashed floods, brought devastation with the power of a fallen god.

Just as he delivered what should have been a killing blow to the broken Batfamily—

They woke up.

In the past.

Dick was back in Blüdhaven. Tim was Robin again. Jason was a newly minted Red Hood. Bruce was a broken man, still mourning Jason.

Memories intact, instincts sharper than ever, they knew where to go: Nanda Parbat.

They expected to find Ra’s. They expected to find Damian.

They did not expect Ra’s to already be dead, his ashes scattered to the wind.

They did not expect Talia to step from the shadows and confess she had killed him herself, striking before Eclipso could even thought of possessing the former Demon Head.

They did not expect Talia relinquish her own hold to Damian. Talia as though pushed him towards them.

And they certainly did not expect Damian go wide eyed in surprise and then anger and be so so insistent to stay here.

The argument between Talia and Damian was vicious, each screaming accusations and betrayals at the other—until a boy, a stranger, entered.

A boy who looked like Damian.

But whose eyes blazed bright, glacial blue.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Danyal al Ghul.

A son Bruce had never known. A brother Damian had killed in the first timeline. A secret Talia had buried deep within her heart.

To Damian, Danyal was the brother who had loved him without hesitation—whom he had destroyed in cold ambition.

To Talia, Danyal was her true heir—the one she had nurtured, protected, loved beyond measure.

To the family of vigilantes, Danyal was a son/ brother that they didn’t know about, and didn’t get to mourn about.

And now, faced with a second chance, neither Talia nor Damian would let the Batfamily take him away so easily.

Because no matter how much Bruce or his sons demanded— Talia would rather die than lose Danyal again.

And this time, Danyal wasn’t a helpless boy.

This time, he had secrets of his own.

…..

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PS: This is shorter than i thought it would be....

[eicsferrari]

premiere - cs55 smau

summary: yn is paul mescal's sister. her and carlos meet at a premiere

faceclaim: madison cline

a/n: i had this in the drafts for too long

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal my twin brother is in a movie or whatever

tagged: bigbreadpedlar

♡liked by yourbestfriend and others

view all comments

yourbestfriend my wife💍

user14 she mugged him so bad

user9 he's so hot i need him😩

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal posted a story

→last night i met the most GORGEOUS and funny man we talked for a while but I don't know his name!! someone pls help me find him

→this is him if you know him ask him to slide into those dms thank you

replies

↪ yourbestfriend ON MAIN that's crazy

↪ yourbestfriend also that's f1 driver carlos sainz

ynmescal thanks babe

ynmescal brb searching his ig

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal don't mind me, just casually posting more pictures from last night

♡liked by gracieabrams and others

view all comments

ynmescal and now we wait ...

user3 mother i love you

user2 the last slide kskdkd

user11 posting this after sharing his picture on stories and following him iconic behavior

user17 tbh i too would do this if i had a chance with a f1 driver

carlossainz55 hola again 👋🏼

ynmescal hola😊

user7 it CANT be that simple

user18 ig it is when you are pretty😔

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal posted a story

→guess who has a date tonight

replies

↪ yourbestfriend NOW you use close friends

ynmescal it worked, didn't it?

ynmescal posted a story

જ ♡ જ

sainzupdates carlos leaving the paddock today

view all comments

user8 who is she?

user81 i think ynmescal, she was at the paddock with her brother paul. carlos commented her picture about a month ago

user35 this is such a pr relationship🙄🙄

જ ♡ જ

carlossainz55 good company today

♡liked by charlesleclerc and others

view all comments

user89 paul, carlos and charles together this is a big day for annoying people (me)

user55 tag her! we know who the good company is, you are not smooth

user52 the casual post oh to be young, rich and in love ...

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal this f1 thing is fun

♡liked by lando and others

view all comments

user29 pretty girl

yourbestfriend i bet it is🙄

yn ☺️

user37 is by any chance your boyfriend single?

ynmescal luckily no!

user37 and your brother? i'm not picky!

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal only bought this dress so you could take it off

bigbreadpedlar is this post necessary?

yn at least I don't have one night stands and run away from them at the park👊

gracieabrams IJBOL

carlossainz55 what's ijbol?

yn i just burst out laughing

bigbreadpedlar i'm too old for this shit

carlossainz55 same

gracieabrams look, millennials everyone point and laugh🫵

user19 are they really selling as a love story how she took a photo of him without permission and posted it?? stalker behavior she was so desperate to be a wag

user61 get a life

જ ♡ જ

carlossainz55 haters can choke

tagged: ynmescal

user he never posts his girlfriends omg this is serious

lando pic credits?

carlossainz55 no

ynmescal ❤️

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal quality time with my favorite people

tagged: gracieabrams, carlossainz55, bigbreadpedlar

user82 i love everything about this crossover

user68 carlos and paul are so boyfriend coded

yn i swear sometimes it feels like they are the ones dating, they have bike dates every day

gracieabrams ily

ynmescal i love you moreeee

carlossainz55 if only they knew why we were so tired in the last pic...

ynmescal CARLOS

bigbreadpedlar THAT'S MY SISTER

carlossainz55 i meant cycling!

ynmescal no u didn't

carlossainz55 no i didn't🤭

જ ♡ જ

Taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @formoola1fan @2bormaybenot @searecs @rana030 @multifantasic70 @yourmommyagone22 @primadonaprincess55 @hoeforlifee @literallysza @nichmeddar @in-the-marina-trench @ahgase99 @gigigreens @danielricroll @harrysdimple05

[bejeweledinterludes]

blame it on the alcohol.

OR dean’s drunk— and makes it your problem!

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : drunk ! dean x reader

「 word count 」 : 1.6 k

「 content / warnings 」 : fluffy fluff / comedy, alcoholic!dean, drunkness, NOT violent— purely just my thoughts of goofball drunk dean winchester off his rocker with reader hehe

‧˚₊⋅ ──── faith’s tell-all. welp i got drunk off my ass the other night and finished this draft that’s been rotting for actual months but i love the way it turned out. i hate to drop then dip immediately— but ‘if i wrote this then y’all need to see it’ has always been my policy around here (with finished works at least), and that includes regardless of my mental status. idc y’all are my ride or dies for life, no take backsies! that being said though, i still need to respond to everyone who reached out to me over the last month(ish)— which feels overwhelming rn, so i promise to do it at some point.

and for anyone that was wondering, things are pretty okay for now— but i still don’t plan on coming back back on here anytime soon. it’ll probably be more just me posting works here and there since i don’t really write like i used to + don’t really feel like i belong on here anymore yk? i’m sorry to let everyone down, but just know i appreciate and love every single freakin’ one of you that interacts with and (hopefully) enjoys my writing. it means the absolute world— it always has and always will. enjoy this one, miss you all dearly <3

( p. s. ) . . . this should be obvious, but: DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ ABOUT ALCOHOL OR DRUNKENESS !!!

𖤐 ────────────────────────

you were cozied up in bed at your motel room for the night, pretending to be reading a book on the lore of a specific hybrid of werewolf— god, don’t even ask. it was like pulling freakin’ teeth trying to get through a page, even the words. you were debating lighting the while thing on fire— and maybe sam, too, for suggesting that you decipher it.

but the sudden and loud-ass bang against the door had gotten your attention, and you instinctively snatched your gun off the nightstand, expecting the worst. fight or flight kicked in— and of course, fight reared it’s head immediately.

but there was no need, since the door swung open— and dean was attached to it, leaning on it as it hit the wall with a thud.

“stupid fuckin’—” he lifts himself off the handle, looking offended at the thing, like the door was the reason he almost fell face-first into the room and not himself.

then, he meets your gaze.

and the only way to describe it was like if the freakin’ sun just came out and hit dean’s face.

“hey!” dean bursts your name out, somehow kicking the door shut behind him— while smiling. like, full-blown, teeth and all. at you. and you know he’s never been that happy to see you in your life, ever.

it’s about now you realize he’s absolutely hammered beyond belief.

of course you knew that dean had his… issues with alcohol— and everything he’d been through? shit. you probably would, too. but still, you never pushed him to talk to you about it. not like sam does— yeah, no, that wasn’t your place. you were a good friend, sure, but still, you didn’t need a ‘okay, mom’ from dean, or a cussing out. so you weren’t about to try and force him to tell you anything. that was a line you refused to cross.

“hi,” you give your own smile back— because come on. your eyes clock how dean was swaying on his feet, so you slide off of your bed, meeting him halfway and grasping his shoulder gently— because you knew if you didn’t take action right now, he’d end up face-first right on the carpet. “you havin’ a good night?”

and dean’s glazed eyes seemed to sharpen for a moment as he took in your presence— now he could smell you, foo. his lips curved into a lopsided, drunken grin as he attempted (and failed) to focus on your face.

“jus’ livin’ the dream,” he quipped, trying to muster a cocky smirk— but the way he leaned right into you standing up told you otherwise.

“needed sum company. your room was t’closest, thank god— ‘n sam’s bein’ mean.” dean explained, almost pouted at that last part, his words being pretty much incoherent. dean somehow got an arm around your shoulders, the other waving floppily at the door— most likely, at sam.

of course you’ve seen dean drunk before, but he’s never sought you out while completely wasted like this. not that you were complaining or anything like that— it was just new.

you were trying not to think about what that meant.

you now realize that you can’t exactly sustain holding dean up like this, with just your own body weight— so your arm wraps fully snug around his shoulders and your free hand presses onto his chest, holding him upright.

“i see,” you guide dean in your grasp towards the edge of your bed. “well, come and sit down before we both end up face-planting, huh?”

surprisingly, as you guided him toward the bed, dean stumbled along more willingly than you’d expected him to, even as his movements were jerky and completely uncoordinated. he flopped right onto the edge of the bed, head lolling momentarily as he fought to focus on you, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

then, as if that wasn’t enough shock factor, dean reached out, his hand clumsily searching for something to hold onto— his fingers found your hand and wrapped around it a smidge too tight, as if to ensure you wouldn't leave.

a beat passes, then—

“yer my favorite, y’know that?”

damn.

maybe you needed to sit down, too.

so you do.

“your favorite, huh?” you inquire softly, sitting next to dean. you never took him to really be sentimental drunk, but hey. at least he wasn’t upchucking. a smile tugs on your lips, too. “like, ever? or just right now?”

you’d think you’d asked for the equilibrium constant of freaking iron, the way dean huffed and actually thought about it, hard.

a beat, and then, he nodded, confirming.

“yeah, ever. well, ‘cept sammy... or m’baby.” he said slowly, trying to form the words through his inebriated brain, looking back to you. “but yeah. ever.”

while listening, you glance over at the clock as you’re sitting on the edge of the bed— well, you’re sitting. dean’s now just kinda… more slumped against you than anything.

but you didn’t mind it.

“well either way, i’m honored,” you lean a little into dean playfully, but your voice is still quiet. “and you know somethin’? you’re my favorite, too.”

oh, damn.

if dean was sober, he'd probably scoff and play it cool— find some sort of joke to spin off of it. but drunk dean was a different man. instead, he squints at your face, cheeks flushed for a different reason, his expression… hopeful.

“really?” he slurred, looking unconvinced and squeezing your hand like it would help. it did. “not sammy or baby?”

“i like you both,” you clarify with a soft laugh, voice still quiet, eyebrows scrunching together as you remind him: “and baby’s your girl, dean.”

“true,” that got a chuckle out of dean, “baby’s m’girl, and you…”

dean paused, his mind taking a moment to process the thought. and people say that drunk people had no filter. he lifted his head slightly, his gaze attempting to focus on your face.

“y’somethin’ else.”

dean finally said, his words barely above a whisper. his fingers fidgeted a little with yours, lightly tracing patterns against your skin.

damn damn.

even drunk, dean sure was vague when he wanted to be. his tone was genuine as ever, though— so that made you feel a little better.

“‘somethin’ else’, huh?” is what you respond with to dean as you smile again, eyes flicking between his. “well, thank you— i think.”

dean manages a lopsided smile back. he’s uncharacteristically quiet now, a stark contrast to earlier.

“mean it. you’re special,” he murmurs after a moment, his voice dripping with sincerity.

now how the hell were you supposed to respond to that.

you weren’t used to compliments— in general, but from dean? that was essentially nonexistent. it was like he made a point not to compliment you sometimes— and now this? it wasn’t just a random compliment.

he called you special.

so you just kinda… stare at dean for a second, your cheeks heating up a little as you look down at your entwined hands, trying to ignore the warmth in your chest before you get the courage to look up at him again. 

dean, however, doesn’t seem to notice the way you reacted— if he did, he didn’t point it out. his fingers continued tracing small patterns on your hand, almost absentmindedly. the gesture, despite the alcohol swimming through his body, was still somewhat… deliberate.

gentle. 

“thanks, de.” you managed to get out, glancing back down at your hand in his.

dean’s somewhat half-lidded gaze follows your glance down to where his fingers are tracing patterns on your hand, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he lifts his gaze to meet yours again.

“love when you call m’that,” he murmurs, a soft, albeit, drunken honesty to his voice. “feel s’like a hug.”

you knew that sober (and definitely hungover) dean would be absolutely losing it if he could hear himself, but you don’t dare call him out on it.

you gape at dean again for a second, your chest doing that thing, more intensely now as your cheeks flush a little harder.

the chest thing usually happened daily, hourly around dean: whenever he said your name, wiggled his brows at you from the rearview window of baby, or got right into your personal space— but it felt so much more with his words.

and it didn’t help that you were holding hands.

“i’ll try and say it more often, then,” you affirm to dean with a nod, giving his hand a little squeeze.

“good,” dean nods back, like he was in a haze— but he couldn’t tell if it was from you or the alcohol. “i’ll hold y’to that.”

oh, yeah. you knew he would.

even drunk, that might be the only thing he remembers— but you’d take it.

it was bittersweet. knowing that this dean seemed to have all the troubles off of his mind, the burdens off of his back for once in his goddamn life— but you knew the reality. the one deep down, the monster under the bed:

the fact that dean needed alcohol to do so.

and a lot of it.

maybe someday, you’d talk to him about it in that way you always did, like a deep conversation, but not really; one that left him all light and drunk on something very much you instead of a brewski— and maybe he’d even listen. 

but you knew tonight wouldn’t be the night.

tomorrow wouldn’t be the day.

so you’d let him have tonight.

you’d let him have you. 

if he wanted.

──────────────────────── 𖤐

🏷️ : @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @bruisedfig @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlejackles @starzify @velvetparkerx @eggggggggggggggggggggsblog @fuckedupfate @liiiilsss @angelblqde @vmiina @mahi-wayy @viarasvogue @tinas111 @0ccvltism @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @lunaleah @saintfaux @kimxwinchester @bettystonewell @honeyyxxbee @harlekin705 @megara0224 @ej13928 @missus-ackles + if i missed anyone or you want to be added / taken off, please let me know <3

[tbaluver]

hello! I hope you're having a nice day ✨

can I request LADS men reaction to MC sending them videos of their baby like it's either them saying their first words or anything adorable since the men are away from home for quite a while and MC and their baby misses them ehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Sending Them Baby Videos When They're Away- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff c/w: for sylus there's mention of him using his evol to x_x someone, no gore tho a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this was such a cute concept to write and i had to write this immediately (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) ‧º but i dunno if i did this justice so if it didnt, you alr know just pretend this doesn't exist ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways them as papas are such a cute concept i have so much of it in my drafts that i'll post soon ): enjoy reading and have a nice day or night anonnie ! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He was sent away for a mission for a couple days due to fluctuations of Wanderers in the area. Unfortunately if he was by himself, it wouldn’t have taken days but his teammates were dragging him down.

His phone chimes, signaling a notification from you. Opening his phone he sees a video you had sent him.

“Rahhh!!” Your son squeals, hitting his toy sword at your plushies that you both won a couple years ago. Your laughter was in the background, making his lips tug into a smile. He missed you both as he watched the video. He was quick to text you back.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ���: is he protecting mommy

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: it seems i have taught him well

He clicked off his phone, determination bursting through him. He wants to go back home. The warmth of your laughter and the sight of your son, drove him forward. This mission dragged on way too long, he was going to finish this himself.

He moved swiftly, slashing his sword with precision. The hours flew by as well as the number of Wanderers. Without any word to his teammates from the mission, he headed out. He couldn’t wait to see the look on you and your son's face when he walked through the door.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎:  i’m on my way home now. does our son need a partner to protect you?

Zayne:

Zayne isn’t easily distracted except when it comes to you and a box of macaroons. Now if it was you and a box of macaroons that would be a deadly combo.

During his meetings or when he’s about to head into a surgery, he always lets you know if he’s occupied so you know he won’t be able to reply right away. But right after all of that is over, he’ll immediately check his phone for you and ignore any of his notifications.

But when he’s in his office, the moment he receives a message from you, he can’t help but glance away from the reports he needs to file or send over to the nurses. Your messages always pull him in no matter what.

He unlocks his phone and is instantly met with another cute video of your baby daughter. She’s wearing his freshly clean white coat, which she had pulled from the laundry basket. She’s also wearing his oversized shoes that are comically too big for her tiny feet. “Papa!” She squeals, her face lighting up with a silly smile as she looks into the camera.

A soft laugh escapes his lips and he can’t help but replay the video a couple more times, his heart melting each time. It’s as if he can hear her giggles through the screen. With a wide smile curling up on his lips, he texts you back.

☃︎ ♡: How adorable. I think we need to get her one that’s her size

☃︎ ♡: I have one more break after I finish this report. I can call you both when I finish.

☃︎ ♡: I’ll finish up my work quickly so I can get home sooner.

Rafayel:

He didn’t want to be at this art exhibition, or quite frankly any art exhibition if you weren’t there. All he could think about was being home with you and the babies. Leaving them behind felt like one of the hardest things he could ever do.

You sent him a cute and chaotic video while he was away. “Quick, show daddy what you just did!” you exclaimed, as you aimed the camera at your baby waving a crayon clumsily in their tiny hands while you cheered with enthusiasm. “Glub! gub gub!”

He couldn’t help but let out a wide smile, his little baby was going to be just like their papa, an artist in the making and even better they were learning Glubglubnese. The video ends up with your other baby blowing bubbles to their sibling and they start wailing.

Watching the video, his heart ached with longing for his family. He was a father. He was your husband and he shouldn’t have to miss out on all these precious moments he has wanted with you for a long time. He wanted to be there in person and experience the joy with you.

He texts you while making long strides to the exit, ignoring all the reporters and critics that tried to approach him.

𓆟:  tell them to stop being cute until i get back

𓆟: cutie im on my way

𓆟: i miss you and my little glub glubs

𓆟: getting the fastest plane ticket there rn

𓆟: see you soon cutie ( ˘ ³˘)

Sylus:

He was away for another business deal for a couple of days, a business deal that shouldn’t have taken this long and Sylus was getting irritated. “Mr. Sylus, we’re really sorry! Please give us a couple more days! We don’t know what happened to half of the inventory!” The man begged with desperation on his face but Sylus did not have the time for a couple more days.

Before Sylus could respond, his phone chimed with a familiar notification. He raises a finger, signaling for a moment while Luke and Kieran keep the restricted men distracted.

Opening his phone, he was met with an adorable video of your baby daughter. She was dressing up Mephisto in her doll clothes, her giggles flooding through the speakers of his phone. “Caw....” Mephisto caws defeatedly, his head drooping down. “Caw! caw!” Your daughter squeals, her laughter and yours was infectious as she lifts him up in the air, dashing around the living room with pure joy.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches the video. Once he clicked off his phone, a sigh escaped his lips. His heart ached with so much longing for you both and he couldn’t bear missing even more precious moments with you and your baby girl.

As Luke and Kieran snicker, stepping aside, crimson swirls began to surround the men, slowly suffocating them until they vanished into thin air.

“Send their team another warning. We’re going home.”

𓅪: The business deal is finally finished. I apologize for the wait, sweetie.

𓅪: I’ll call you both before I get on the plane. I hope I didn't miss much.

𓅪: I'll pick up more doll clothes for her on my way back.

Once he was in his private jet he couldn’t wait to have you and his baby girl in his arms again.

[midnightfict]

What History?

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — Squid Game fans have been shipping two actors not knowing they have a history together.

A/N — aaaa, writer’s block is killing me. but the reqs i've been getting is starting to help. i promise i’m currently drafting for the other reqs.

request post

— 𓆩𓆪 —

The room was brightly lit, cameras positioned at every angle, and a familiar nervousness settled in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t new to interviews, but something about these promotional videos always made you a little jittery. Maybe it was the anticipation of how fans would react, or maybe it was the fact that sitting next to you was none other than Lee Byung-hun—your former high school boyfriend and now your co-star in Squid Game Season 2.

The two of you walked into the room together, followed by director Hwang Dong-hyuk, who greeted the crew with a casual nod.

“Alright,” a staff member announced. “We’re shooting two videos today. The first segment is watching fan edits, and the second is reading fan letters. Just react naturally, have fun, and remember—no breaking into hysterics.”

Byung-hun chuckled beside you. “That sounds like a challenge.”

You smirked. “You sound scared.”

“I might as well be. Have you seen those AI edits of me and Lee Jung-jae?”

The staff gestured for silence, signaling that the cameras were rolling. You introduced yourself to the camera, followed by Byung-hun and Dong-hyuk. The screen before you flickered to life, and the first video started playing.

The first edit was cinematic—a high-energy montage of Squid Game 2’s most intense moments. Gunfights, chase sequences, close-ups of steely gazes. It had everything. The booming orchestral soundtrack made every scene feel ten times more dramatic.

Byung-hun let out an impressed whistle. “Did we actually shoot something this cool?”

You nodded. “Because I don’t remember looking this badass.”

Dong-hyuk leaned forward, squinting. “Wait—when did you do that roll behind cover?”

You snorted. “That’s the one where I landed wrong and bruised my entire arm.”

Byung-hun grinned. “Ohhh, right. And you tried to play it off like you meant to do it.”

“I did mean to do it.”

Dong-hyuk shook his head. “That’s not what you said when you screamed in pain afterward.”

Byung-hun burst into laughter. Your light punch to his side silenced him, earning a dramatic yelp.

“Give respect to your elders!”

You gave the camera a look. “He’s so dramatic. We’re literally only one year apart.”

The next edit was a deep dive into In-ho’s past, set in black and white with emotional piano music. It contrasted his life as a police officer with his role as the Front Man, highlighting the tragedy of his choices.

Dong-hyuk hummed thoughtfully. “This fan basically made a better teaser than we did.”

Byung-hun nodded. “Can we hire them?”

You pointed at a particular shot. “This scene—this is when you had to retake your mask removal, what, twenty times?”

Byung-hun groaned. “Ugh. The mask kept getting caught on my hood. Every time I tried to look dramatic, I just looked stuck.”

Dong-hyuk chuckled. “We had to cut out three takes where you sighed right into the mask.”

Byung-hun held up his hands. “No need to expose me like that.”

Then came the brainrot edit. An animation of Squid Game characters dancing to some bizarre, upbeat song.

You had the biggest grin—too silly not to laugh. The video didn’t even make sense.

Dong-hyuk had his brows furrowed, an amused but not entirely entertained smile on his face.

Byung-hun, on the other hand, sat perfectly still, eyes locked on the screen. No one could tell what he was thinking.

When it ended, you all exchanged an awkward glance.

“I mean… I like it. It’s an interesting video,” you said, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, still laughing.

Dong-hyuk fixed his glasses. “Is this what people see when they watch my show?”

Byung-hun crossed his arms. “They didn’t do me justice. Why is the Front Man not included in this video?”

The staff smirked. “Don’t worry, there’s a Front Man edit in the next one.”

The next video was different. The music was softer, the pacing slower. It highlighted your character’s interactions with In-ho—subtle glances, moments of hesitation, scenes where your characters moved in sync. It wasn’t obvious in the actual show, but with the way the editor framed it…

It almost looked like something was going on.

Byung-hun blinked. “What’s this?”

Dong-hyuk raised an eyebrow. “They created scenes that aren’t even in the series.”

You squinted. “Are we too old to understand what this is?”

It was a ship edit.

Silence.

Then, Byung-hun let out a slow, amused chuckle. “Well. That was unexpected.”

Dong-hyuk crossed his arms. “You two do have really natural chemistry.”

You cleared your throat. “I mean, our characters have history, so—”

Byung-hun nodded. “Right, right. Former police officers.”

Dong-hyuk hummed. “Well, I had another love interest in mind for In-ho, but thinking about it… your characters being shipped makes sense. Maybe I should make it canon in Season 3.”

Both you and Byung-hun snapped your heads toward him.

“Huh?!”

The crew erupted into laughter. Dong-hyuk smiled and closed the segment with a thank-you and a Squid Game 2 promotion.

After a quick makeup touch-up, a staff member placed a stack of envelopes in front of you, Byung-hun, and Dong-hyuk.

Dong-hyuk stretched his arms and grinned. “Alright, let’s see what the fans have to say. If anyone insults my writing, I’m walking out.”

Byung-hun smirked. “I’d say you’re bluffing, but we all know you’re dramatic enough to do it.”

You laughed. “Place your bets, everyone. How many letters will be about Byung-hun’s attractiveness?”

Byung-hun scoffed. “Excuse me, I am a serious actor. Not just a handsome face.”

The cameras rolled.

You picked up the first letter and smoothed it out before reading aloud.

‘Dear Director Hwang, your storytelling is a masterpiece. Every scene feels like it has so much depth and emotion. How do you come up with such gripping narratives?’

Dong-hyuk’s face lit up. “Ah, A letter for me!”

Byung-hun immediately reached over, fingers grasping at the paper. “Skip it.”

You swatted his hand away. “No, let him have his moment.”

Dong-hyuk straightened his posture, adjusting his jacket with mock importance. “Well, since you asked… My process is simple. I think, ‘What is the most stressful, painful situation I can put my characters in?’ And then I do that.”

Byung-hun leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I knew you enjoyed torturing us.”

Dong-hyuk grinned. “Absolutely.”

Byung-hun exhaled, then grabbed the next letter from the pile, unfolding it.

‘Was filming action scenes difficult? Especially the parkour scenes.’

You didn’t hesitate. “Oh, definitely. That scene where I had to jump from bed to bed? I had bruises for days.”

Byung-hun winced at the memory. “Oh yeah, you took a pretty bad fall.”

You sighed dramatically, throwing your arms up. “And no one even said ‘cut’ when I landed wrong! I had to just lie there in pain.”

Dong-hyuk raised a hand in defense. “Okay, to be fair, it looked intentional.”

Byung-hun let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “You heard it here first, folks. The director is a masochist.”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “It builds character.”

Byung-hun rubbed his temple. “I worry for your future wife.”

You sifted through the pile and grabbed the next letter.

‘To Byung-hun, was it difficult wearing the Front Man’s mask for long periods of time? It looks heavy.’

Byung-hun groaned dramatically, flopping against the back of his chair. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Dong-hyuk snorted. “He complained about it every single day.”

Byung-hun sat up, pointing at him. “Because it was a legitimate problem! The mask was so heavy, and it pressed into my face so much that I had red marks after every shoot.”

You bit back a laugh. “And let’s not forget the time it got stuck.”

Byung-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh, please, let’s forget that.”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “We have footage.”

Byung-hun immediately turned to the camera, eyes pleading. “Dear editors, if you have any mercy, don’t include that clip.”

They did.

Dong-hyuk chuckled and grabbed the next letter. “‘Director Hwang, who is your favorite character in Squid Game?’”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Yikes. That’s like asking me to pick my favorite child.”

Byung-hun smirked. “But we all know you have a favorite.”

Dong-hyuk tapped his fingers against the table, pretending to contemplate. “Well… I have a soft spot for In-ho.”

Byung-hun gasped, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck. “You love me?”

Dong-hyuk’s deadpan stare didn’t waver. “I said I love In-ho. Not you.”

You burst into laughter as Byung-hun recoiled in mock betrayal. “Wow, I won’t return to Season 3 then.”

Dong-hyuk ignored him, his expression thoughtful. “I love complex characters, and In-ho has so much depth. There’s still so much left to explore with him.”

You leaned in. “So, does that mean he’s safe in Season 3?”

Dong-hyuk smirked. “I mean, it’s possible, but I don’t know. We’ll have to find out.”

Byung-hun cut in, laughing. “What do you mean you don’t know? You created the story.”

Dong-hyuk simply shrugged. “Let’s just say… No one is ever truly safe.”

The next letter Byung-hun picked up seemed harmless at first.

‘I don’t know what it is, but…’

He stopped mid-sentence, chuckling as he glanced at the camera, then at you and Dong-hyuk. “I don’t know if I can continue reading this without someone getting mad.”

Silence fell over the room.

Curious, you snatched the letter from his hands and scanned it. A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who’s gonna get mad over this?”

Byung-hun gave you a knowing look, subtly hinting at someone you had dated during filming.

Your expression faltered for half a second before you quickly masked it with a tight smile. Keeping your mouth hidden from the camera, you mouthed, “We broke up.”

Dong-hyuk grinned and leaned forward to peek at the letter over your shoulder. “Well, well, well. They think you two have some history together because you make the characters so compelling together.”

Byung-hun cleared his throat, spitting out a joke before anyone could dwell on the comment. “Have you guys ever considered we are both just very good actors?”

Dong-hyuk stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “Seeing how everybody seems to ship you two, maybe I should create a romance movie with you both.”

You and Byung-hun turned to him in horror, simultaneously shaking your heads.

Dong-hyuk simply shrugged. “What? The fans love it. I should give them what they want.”

Byung-hun laughed nervously and quickly faced the camera. “Okay let's end it! Thank you for watching this video. Don’t forget to watch us on Netflix!”

After finishing the shoot, the three of you parted ways—but the internet did not.

A week after the video was published, fans went crazy. The shipping theories got worse. Your social media was flooded with comments. Multiple media outlets invited you and Byung-hun for interviews together, riding the hype.

One afternoon, before another press event, you texted him.

Want to grab coffee before the next interview?

Thought you’d never ask.

At the café, he took a sip of his drink and smirked. “Remember how broke we were from getting coffee every other day in high school?”

You groaned. “Oh god, that was what? Twenty—no, thirty years ago? High school was rough. I don’t even want to remember that.”

“You’re mean. So I meant nothing to you?” He feigned hurt, holding back a smile.

“Oh, shush. You know what I mean.” You playfully pushed his forehead as he held the door open for you. “Besides, we lasted ‘til university, no—”

Click.

A camera shutter.

You froze. He froze.

Through the café window, a crowd had formed. Some held up phones. Others were whispering excitedly.

Fuck. They found you.

Byung-hun exhaled. “Well, I guess there’s no turning back.”

Then, with a smirk, he grabbed your hand, laced his fingers through yours, and yanked you out of the sea of screaming fans.

[lexawritex]

—midnight recording

aeri x fem!reader ⚠️ smut, fingering, cursing, mdni ★ visiting your girlfriend in her studio late at night. [a/n: posting the things i have in my drafts before i get so busy again :/]

a loud gunshot shattered the silence of your apartment, jolting you awake. your eyes flew open, a gasp escaping your lips as your heart pounded in your chest.

panic set in as you frantically scanned the room, searching for the source of the sound. only to find the tv as the source of the loud sound. you let out a relieved sigh, reaching for the remote to turn it off.

slipping your hand under the pillows you'd tossed on the couch, you searched for your phone.

you looked at the time and it was already 11pm.

looking around, the apartment was untouched, meaning aeri still hadn't come home from work. it was understandable—she and her group were preparing for a comeback, so lately, she would come home late or sometimes sleep at their building if they finished too late.

standing up from the couch, you stretched your limbs before slipping on aeri's hoodie—the one you had stolen from her closet. grabbing your car keys and wallet, you stepped out of the apartment.

you drove to the sm building, making a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up some midnight snacks. when you arrived, you entered the building, greeting the people inside. they greeted you back without hesitation, already familiar with you from your frequent visits.

as you walked, you happened to bump into jimin, who looked like she was about to head home. her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you before a smile spread across her face, and she waved at you.

"hey, yn! nice seeing you here," jimin greeted.

you smiled at the leader.

"hey there, jimin. heading home?"

jimin nodded, pouting. "yes, finally... practice had me beat up," she groaned.

you chuckled. "good luck on your comeback."

she smiled, exhaustion evident in her expression. "thanks, yn. we’re all working hard for it."

"by the way, aeri's stuck in the recording room. said she’s having problems with her solo song," jimin informed you.

you nodded in understanding. "got it, thanks, jimin."

with that, you bid goodbye to the leader and continued on your way.

you made your way through the vast building, finally arriving at the studio where aeri was supposedly stuck.

knocking on the glass door, you waited a moment before stepping inside.

there she was—your girlfriend, hunched over the large desk cluttered with recording equipment, her fingers typing away on the keyboard. her eyes never left the screen, completely focused.

"i'll head home once i finish this," aeri said, her voice laced with exhaustion but unwavering in determination.

you smiled and spoke,

"but i got snacks."

the sound of your voice made aeri whip her head around so fast, her face blank as she processed your presence. then, as realization hit, a wide smile spread across her face.

"baby!"

aeri pushed herself out of her seat and rushed to you, wrapping you in a warm, tight hug. she nestled her head into your neck, sighing softly as she breathed in your scent.

"baby… i missed you so much. i was just thinking about finishing my song tomorrow so i could come home to you," she murmured, her voice filled with affection.

"oh, thank you so much for coming here."

before you could respond, she pulled away just enough to smother your face with a flurry of kisses, making you laugh at her sudden burst of affection.

"oh, i miss you too, love," you responded, smiling.

aeri groaned dramatically, cupping your face with both hands.

"can we make out? like right now?" she asked out of the blue, eyes hopeful.

you stared at her, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter.

"aeri, what—?"

she pouted. "i'm serious! i need a recharge!"

you laughed, shaking your head in amusement before letting out a sigh.

"you're unbelievable," you muttered, smiling as you brushed a strand of hair from her face.

looking at aeri's pouting face, you couldn't help but melt at the sight. with a soft sigh, you gave in, pulling her close before crashing your lips against hers.

she let out a pleased hum, arms wrapping tightly around your neck as she eagerly kissed you back, as if she'd been waiting for this all day.

aeri pressed herself closer, deepening the kiss as her fingers tangled in your hair. her desperation was evident—the long hours of work, the exhaustion, and the longing for you all pouring into the way her lips moved against yours.

you smiled into the kiss, feeling the warmth of her love, and gently cupped her face, stroking her cheek with your thumb. aeri sighed against your lips, melting into your touch as if all the stress weighing her down had vanished in that moment.

when you pulled away for a gasp of air, aeri didn’t waste a second—immediately pushing herself onto you, reclaiming your lips with desperation.

surprised, you stumbled back slightly but quickly caught up, your hands gripping her waist to steady yourself. her tongue slipped past your lips, claiming every inch of your mouth as if she couldn’t get enough. you let her take control, surrendering to her eagerness as her fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer.

the studio was silent except for the soft sounds of your heated kisses, the tension thick between you. aeri groaned into your mouth, clearly frustrated from days of being apart, and you couldn’t help but smile against her lips.

feeling her lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, aeri finally pulled away, resting her forehead against yours.

she panted heavily, her warm breath fanning against your lips as she tried to catch her breath.

you, on the other hand, looked at her in pure amusement.

"jesus, aeri, let me breathe, woman," you teased, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

aeri chuckled breathlessly.

"sorry, baby, couldn't help myself," she admitted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

you shook your head, smiling fondly. pressing a quick peck on her lips, you pulled away from her touch (earning a low groan of protest from aeri) as you grabbed the snacks you bought earlier.

settling back down, you let aeri pull you onto her lap, something she insisted on. with a warm cup of noodles in hand, you occasionally fed her bites while she continued working, her arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

"this is nice."

she mumbled between bites, nuzzling her face against your shoulder for a moment before refocusing on her screen.

you chuckled, running your fingers through her hair.

"just don’t get noodle broth on the equipment, superstar."

aeri hummed, refocusing on her work.

after some typing and occasionally groaning at the screen. aeri pulled away from the computer, nuzzling her face into your neck.

"what's wrong, lovely?" you asked.

aeri mumbled something against your shoulder, but her words came out muffled and completely unintelligible.

you raised a brow, amused. "what was that?"

she pulled back slightly, pouting at you, but the playful glint from earlier was gone. instead, her eyes were hooded, darkened with something you were very familiar with—lust.

biting your lip in realization—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by aeri. her eyes instinctively flickered down to your lips before quickly snapping back up to meet your gaze, a subtle tension settling between you.

without a word, you placed your phone on the desk and shifted in her lap, adjusting your position until you were fully straddling her. aeri’s hands instinctively found their place on your waist, fingers tightening slightly as if anticipating what was coming next.

hooking your arms around her neck, you leaned in just a little, your breath mingling with hers. "you keep looking at me like that, aeri." you murmured, teasing.

aeri whined softly, her grip on your sides tightening as she gazed up at you with desperate eyes.

"baby, i miss you so much," she murmured, her voice almost trembling with need. she pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again.

"can i please have you?" she begged, her tone filled with longing, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your hips.

you raised a brow, amusement lacing your tone.

"right here, right now?"

aeri bit her lip, nodding eagerly. "mm-hmm," she hummed, her hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer. "no one's gonna come in… and i just—i need you, baby."

her eyes searched yours, dark and pleading, waiting for your answer.

wordlessly giving your answer, you slipped off aeri’s hoodie, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in just a thin shirt.

aeri’s breath hitched, her eyes immediately roaming over you, fingers twitching against your waist. she swallowed hard, her grip tightening as she looked up at you, completely captivated.

“god, you’re gonna be the death of me,” she murmured, voice thick with want, before pulling you in, crashing her lips against yours once more.

her lips attacked yours before trailing down to your jaw and neck, leaving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses. occasionally biting and sucking on your skin, definitely leaving some marks.

aeri's hands roamed your sides, gripping your hips as she pulled you impossibly closer. her breath was warm against your skin, and you shivered as she nipped lightly at your pulse, her lips lingering as if savoring the moment.

“missed this,” she murmured against your neck, her voice low and needy.

pulling away slightly, aeri’s gaze dropped to your chest, her fingers slipping beneath your shirt, tracing slow, teasing circles before gently cupping you in her hand.

a smirk played on your lips as you decided to give her what she wanted. gripping the hem of your shirt, you lifted it up, holding it between your teeth, putting yourself on display just for her.

aeri’s eyes sparkled with hunger, her breath hitching at the sight. with one hand, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall.

she wasted no time—her warm mouth latching onto one peak while her other hand toyed with the other, squeezing and flicking, making your breath catch.

"so beautiful," she murmured against your skin, her voice soft yet laced with desire.

while aeri busied herself with your sensitive skin, you sat there, moaning helplessly, your fingers threading through her hair as she worked her magic.

every flick of her tongue, every squeeze of her hand had you melting beneath her touch, your breaths coming out in shaky gasps.

fortunately, the studio was soundproof, meaning you didn’t have to hold back—you could be as loud as you wanted, and aeri was determined to pull every sound from you.

when aeri pulled away, a whine escaped your lips, your body instinctively leaning toward her, craving her touch. but the mischievous glint in her eyes told you she had something planned.

tilting her head slightly, she let out a playful sigh, as if speaking to no one in particular.

"forgive me, producer, but it seems i’m about to ruin your precious studio."

before you could react, her hand slipped into your pants, her fingers pressing firmly against your heated core, making you gasp at the sudden contact.

she teasingly traced slow, deliberate circles against your heated core, her touch light yet utterly consuming. soft whines and breathy moans escaped your lips, only fueling the growing hunger in her dark, needy gaze.

"so sensitive," aeri murmured, her voice laced with amusement and desire, her fingers never faltering as she watched you fall apart beneath her touch.

eager to draw more sounds from you, aeri wasted no time, slipping a finger inside—earning a sharp, shaky moan from your lips.

"fuck!" you gasped, your muscles tensing as she slowly worked her hand, dragging her finger in and out with deliberate precision.

a string of curses fell from your lips as she added another finger, stretching you just right. the way she moved—controlled, unrelenting—made it impossible to think, let alone form a coherent thought.

as her pace quickened, you became a moaning, writhing mess on her. with her other hand, she gripped your waist firmly, keeping you still on her lap.

"that's it, baby. let me hear you." aeri groaned, her voice thick with desire as she maintained the perfect pace, attuned to every sound you made.

occasionally, she curled her fingers just right, pulling a sharp gasp or a broken moan from you—each reaction only fueling her need to hear more.

your hands slipped from her shoulders, gripping the edge of the desk instead as you leaned back, giving aeri the perfect view of you.

her eyes darkened, taking in every detail, her breath hitching at the sight. "just perfect," she muttered, her touch never faltering.

the sight before her was intoxicating—your body glistening with sweat, hair a beautiful mess, drool slipping from your lips as you bit down on the hem of your shirt, exposing your marked, sensitive skin.

your stomach tensed with every whimper, every moan, completely lost in the moment.

aeri swore she could never get enough. this—you, undone beneath her—was something she wanted to witness every single day.

as your core tightened around her fingers, aeri knew you were close. without hesitation, she quickened her pace, her movements growing more intense, more precise.

your moans grew louder, your grip on the desk tightening, muscles shaking uncontrollably as your legs tensed, the overwhelming pressure building to your release.

"come on, baby," aeri coaxed, her grip firm as she held you in place, her voice dripping with hunger. "let me taste you."

aeri could break her fingers for all she cared—none of it mattered. all that mattered was you, trembling, teetering on the edge of bliss.

"that's it, baby," she murmured, eyes locked onto you, completely entranced. "let go for me."

and you did.

with a loud, breathless moan, your body shuddered, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you finally let go, releasing your juices that aeri wanted so much.

she held you steady, watching in awe as you came undone, completely lost in the sensation.

pulling her fingers out, aeri brought them to her lips, slowly sucking them clean, never once breaking eye contact with your half-lidded, dazed gaze.

"so sweet," she murmured, a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched your chest rise and fall, completely spent yet utterly mesmerizing.

you let out a weak chuckle before collapsing against her, your body still tingling from the aftermath.

aeri wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close as she pressed soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, her touch now gentle, soothing—a stark contrast to moments ago.

"i'm bringing a strap next time," aeri said casually, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.

your eyes widened as you pulled away, cheeks heating up before you gave her a playful slap on the arm.

"you're insatiable," you huffed, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement.

aeri only chuckled, pulling you back into her embrace. "only for you, baby."

as you lay in her arms, basking in the warmth of her embrace, the two of you stayed like that for a while, letting your heartbeats slowly return to normal.

unbeknownst to you, her computer had been recording the entire time—every soft whimper, every breathy moan, every syllable of your voice perfectly captured in crisp audio.

aeri had been sneaky, pressing the button when you were too lost in her touch to notice.

her gaze flickered to the blinking red dot at the corner of the screen, a subtle smirk playing on her lips.

oh, she was so going to use this. a song—one heavily inspired by you—was already forming in her mind.

[m0reighn4]

His voice

Sypnosis: Sae realises that his voice affects you. But he wants to test just how much...

Warnings: Smut under the cut; a little out of character (ooc); a tad rushed; Google translated Spanish (your girl just don't know the language ✌🏽😔)

Sae's voice is hot. That much is a given. If he spoke English, it was heavenly. When he spoke his native language, Japanese? Argh! That right there is the ticket straight to heaven!

Now, this had been something you'd gotten used to until one day, when travelling with him in Madrid, Sae is speaking to someone in Spanish. This makes you pause. Similarly to when he speaks English, you can still hear the Japanese accent in his voice. The syllables roll off his tongue so naturally.

Your surprised reaction doesn't go unnoticed by the soccer genius, who subtly slips his arm around your waist. Though it doesn't show, a subtle smirk forms on his face as he continues his discussion.

But when it really comes through is when Sae has got you— pressed into his pristine sheets, back arched into the soft mattress, moaning and whimpering his name just the way he likes.

With the way he skillfully works your body, he draws the best reactions from you. But tonight, it isn't enough. Tonight, he wants even more from you.

Sae leans down, draping your back in his heat as his face comes close to your ear. This is action is all too common for him. Expecting the usual groaning or panting of his, you immediately offer your attention to him. And that's when you hear it— soft and hot against the shell of your ear.

"Allí vamos mi amor, [There we go, my love],"he pants.

And that when he feels it, just the mere sound of his voice being used like this driving you wild. You can't help but shudder, bring the man above his much desired satisfaction.

The both of you groan in unison, his much softer than yours. A soft head of auburn hair drops to your shoulder. His lips tugs into a small, subtle smirk. Oh, he's got you.

Feathery kisses are pressed to the plane of your shoulder, up the column of your neck, right to your ear once more. And you can almost hear his smug smirk in his voice as his thrusts turn the slightest bit sharper.

"Mmh, entonces te gusta mi voz[Mmh, so you do like my voice]?"

His smirk widens when a whine is ripped right from your throat. Sae leaves a sweet kiss right under your ear. And that just leaves you even hotter.

All that runs through your mind is Sae, Sae, Sae! It's driving you nuts in the best way possible. As you ride further up on cloud nine, his voice pulls you right back down to earth once again.

"Te vas a correr para mí, ¿no?[You're gonna cum for me, aren't you?]" And it doesn't take a genius to know how right he is. With your eyes rolled back and your jaw going slack, he whispers in your ear one more time, "Anda, cúmpleme[Go on, cum for me.]"

And that's all you need. With a gasp of his name, white, hot pleasure bursts through your body as you shiver against him. Sae holds you close, reaching his hand over to tilt your jaw to his face. It doesn't take too long before he falls right over the edge with you, smashing his lips to yours to forcing you to swallow the soft sigh of relief he releases.

Aight, so a lot went down with this one. First off, it took me a month to complete (most of that time, it was just sitting in my drafts, collecting dust). Then, came the inevitable issue, me not knowing any Spanish other than the microscopic amounts I learnt from Dora when I was like 4 😭🤷🏽‍♀️. So feel free to correct any mistakes I made in between. And then, my worst one, posting this WAY earlier than I was supposed to. It was so bad that it wasn't even DONE! So I actually had to rush it a little towards the end 😭

So on that note, thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged my incomplete work. And I hope you enjoy the finished work even more now! Thank you all for reading! 🤍🤍💙💙

(Also, thanks to @reigensuperstar for the help with the Spanish bits. Your advice helped a ton 🙏🏽😔)

[jaysng]

when you have to go on bed rest — park sunghoon

frustrated and emotional reader, stuck on bed rest during pregnancy, opens up to caring husband, sunghoon. overwhelmed, she asks him to hold her, seeking solace in his embrace as he gently reassures her, reminding her of her strength. [wc. 1.4k]

PAIRING. husband!sunghoon x preg!wife!reader

GENRE. reader is feeling hurt, so angsty fluff

NOTE. this has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now and i’ve been contemplating whether to post it or not.. but here i am guess

you hated being on bed rest.

every minute of it felt like a punishment. you were used to being on your feet, handling things your way, but now you were confined to your room, relying on everyone else to do what you couldn’t. and while your logical mind understood that it was for the baby, the emotional weight of it all was suffocating.

you sat propped against the headboard, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had personally wronged you. the ache in your back had returned, your legs felt stiff, and your mood was steadily getting worse.

the sound of the door opening broke you out of your sulk. sunghoon stepped inside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small plate of sliced fruit in the other.

“you didn’t eat much earlier,” he said, setting the plate on the bedside table.

“i wasn’t hungry,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

he frowned slightly but didn’t push. “you still need to eat something.”

you sighed, glancing at the plate but not making a move to pick it up. the simple act of eating felt exhausting, and your frustration only grew.

sunghoon lingered for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. he didn’t say anything, his gaze quietly observing you.

“what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

he shook his head, unfazed. “you just seem upset.”

“of course i’m upset, hoon!” you burst out, throwing your hands up. “i’m stuck in this stupid bed all day. i can’t even get up to get my own water. my body hurts. my head hurts. and—” your voice wavered, “—and i feel so useless.”

his expression softened, but he didn’t interrupt. he just let you spill it all out.

“i can’t even…” you trailed off, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “i don’t know. i feel horrible. and i don’t want to talk about it, but i can’t keep it in either. i just—”

you broke off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill.

sunghoon hesitated for a split second before shifting closer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be touched.

“can you just… hold me?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “please?”

his eyes softened further, and without a word, he slipped his arm around your shoulders, gently guiding you against his chest.

the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing—it was grounding. you let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as the dam finally broke.

“i feel like such a mess,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

“you’re not a mess,” he said quietly, his voice calm and certain. “you’re just overwhelmed. it’s okay.”

his hand moved slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he didn’t try to fix anything or offer solutions—he just let you cry, let you feel.

“i don’t know how much more of this i can take,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“you don’t have to take it alone,” he said simply. “i’m here.”

it was such a sunghoon thing to say—straightforward, without unnecessary embellishments. but somehow, that made it more comforting.

“i hate being like this,” you whispered. “so… weak.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his brow furrowed. “you’re not weak,” he said, his tone firmer now. “you’re growing a whole human inside you. that’s… incredible.”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “doesn’t feel incredible.”

“doesn’t mean it’s not,” he countered, his fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “and even if you feel like you’re falling apart, it’s okay. i’ll hold you together, for as long as you need.”

you looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes.

“thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

he didn’t respond with words, just wrapped his arms around you again, holding you close like you were the most important thing in the world.

and for the first time that day, the frustration in your chest eased, just a little. enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

© jaysng 2024 | do not repost or plagiarize.

[minlcna]

mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to take requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance. 

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone. 

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance. 

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough. 

"Silence," she called with strictness. 

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a 

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued. 

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile. 

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling. 

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row. 

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice. 

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled. 

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George. 

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close. 

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions. 

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall. 

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position. 

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair. 

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy. 

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew. 

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock. 

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part. 

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk. 

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse. 

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes. 

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying. 

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed. 

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing. 

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic. 

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk. 

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look. 

"What?" he asked incredulously. 

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting. 

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously. 

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts. 

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly. 

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re clever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating. 

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

[sysig]

DAX is just so expressive ♥ (Patreon)

[23victoria]

snowboarding

ꨄ༊*·˚ pairings: f1 drivers x reader

₊✩°｡⋆ authors note: i think this is considered gender neutral but idk it’s a draft and it’s a drabble but lmk if i’m wrong! i hope you guys enjoy!!

ꨄ༊*·˚ synopsis: snowboarding with the f1 drivers and you have a little accident

₊✩°｡⋆ wanna be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

ꨄ༊*·˚ F1 MASTERLIST

Lewis Hamilton

Lewis glides effortlessly down the slope while you, in contrast, move like a malfunctioning robot.

“Just relax,” he calls back. “You’re doing great!”

He shouldn’t have said that— because seconds later, you hit an uneven patch and face-plant.

Lewis stops so fast he sprays snow everywhere. “Babe? Babe?! Oh no— are you hurt?”

You roll onto your back, snow-covered but grinning. “I have become one with the mountain.”

Lewis lets out a relieved chuckle, covering his face. “Don’t do that to me, Y/N!” He flops into the snow next to you, laughing. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

He shakes his head with a grin. “Next time, let’s stick to sledding.”

Charles Leclerc

Charles is all confidence as he helps you strap in. “Just follow my lead, bebé. Nice and easy.”

Nice and easy, my ass.

The moment you push off, you gain too much speed and, before you can stop, go flying straight into a snowbank.

Charles nearly trips over himself rushing to you. “Babe! Are you hurt? Talk to me!”

But instead of replying, you burst into laughter, struggling to pull yourself out of the snow.

Charles blinks. “You— you’re laughing?”

You nod, still giggling uncontrollably. He sighs, relief washing over his face before he starts laughing too, shaking his head. “You scared me, you idiot.”

“But did I look cool before I crashed?” you ask.

He snorts. “No. You looked like Bambi on ice.”

Carlos Sainz

Carlos is patient, guiding you through the basics. “It’s all about balance, cariño.”

Balance, you repeat in your head. Balance.

Then the snowboard betrays you. One sharp turn and suddenly you’re tumbling, rolling down the slope like a snow-covered burrito.

Carlos skids to a stop beside you, wide-eyed. “Y/N?! Are you okay? Speak to me!”

You peek up at him, grinning through your snow-covered face. “I think I invented a new trick.”

Carlos sighs in relief, then throws his head back laughing. “Dios mío, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” He shakes his head. “But I will admit— that was quite a spectacular crash.”

“Thank you, I do my own stunts.”

Lando Norris

Lando is already filming, grinning. “Alright, first time on a snowboard. What could go wrong?”

Everything. Everything could go wrong.

You barely make it five feet before catching an edge and wiping out spectacularly, your legs flinging over your head before you land in a heap.

Lando stops recording. “Oh my god.” He rushes over, panic setting in. “Y/N? Are you alive?”

Your laughter bubbles up from the snow, and Lando groans in relief. “You scared the crap out of me!”

You wiggle your arms dramatically. “Still alive, unfortunately.”

Lando bursts into laughter, dropping beside you. “That was the funniest fall I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you get it on camera?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Post it.”

Oscar Piastri

Oscar stands at the top, eyeing you cautiously. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes! I’m a natural athlete.”

You immediately fall.

Oscar’s soul leaves his body as he rushes to you, sliding to a stop. “Y/N? Please tell me you’re okay.”

You open your eyes and just start laughing.

Oscar blinks. “You’re— you’re laughing?”

You nod, wiping snow from your face. “That was fun.”

He sighs, shaking his head before chuckling. “I thought you died for a second.”

“Not yet, but the day is young.”

Oscar groans, but he’s still smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”

Max Verstappen

Max watches you from the top of the slope, arms crossed, smirking. “You sure you don’t want a few practice runs first?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “How hard can it be?”

Famous last words.

One second, you’re upright; the next, you’re airborne, limbs flailing like a ragdoll before face-planting into the snow.

Max sprints down, panic in his eyes. “Y/N?! Are you okay?” He drops to his knees beside you, but instead of groaning in pain, you’re wheezing with laughter, unable to breathe.

Max stares for a moment before shaking his head, chuckling. “You absolute idiot,” he mutters, flopping onto the snow next to you, laughing. “You looked like a falling pancake.”

“A pancake?” you gasp between laughs.

“Yeah, a very uncoordinated one.”

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[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.