#me posting this without double checking about that

[scarletwinterxx]

protective or possessive? call it passive or aggressive - choi seungcheol oneshot

don't ask me what the color of the sky is, might as well be green for all i care. the way i couldn't sleep after he dropped these pics haha yea no chance of peace last night. lord might have some mercy but choi seungcheol did not when he posted THAT pic. anyways enjoy my chaotic brain last night.

you can follow me on x i usually rant there, niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to choi seungcheol)

You’re just peacefully minding your business on a Sunday afternoon, curled up on the couch in your ugly-but-beloved pajamas, scrolling through Instagram like a normal person. Brain half-off, mouth slightly open, thumb doing that lazy flick-flick motion

and then you see it.

A post.

His post.

Seungcheol.

You blink. Then you double take. Then you double tap purely on instinct, scrolling through the slides and then immediately curse yourself because right there, in glorious HD, is his back.

Bare. Sun-kissed. Broad as the moral gap between you and patience.

THE photo you took just days ago on a short trip to Hawaii you secretly tagged along all because he said he’ll miss you too much. The photo you admittedly stared at longer than you’ll ever admit. And that tattoo

The tattoo. His olive tree. Intricate, right at the top of his spine where his muscles taper off like a marble sculpture made by a Roman god with emotional intimacy issues.

You were half-sure he only let you snap it because you promised to keep it to yourself and also maybe because you bribed him with watermelon slices.

You jump off the couch like someone lit you on fire and march to the kitchen where he’s just there… innocently cutting apples like the tattooed menace he is.

“What the HELL is this?”

He jumps, literally jumps, like you just caught him cheating. Knife mid-air. Soul halfway out his body.

“Huh? What? What did I do?!”

You shove your phone in his face. “THIS. THIS back. THIS TATTOO. THIS SOFT BOY SUMMER INSTAGRAM CONTENT. EXPLAIN YOURSELF.”

He blinks. Looks at the post. Then back at you.

“Oh. You mean the beach picture?” he says, as if you’re interrogating him over a mildly burned toast. “I just thought it looked cool.”

You squint. “You said you were shy posting stuff like this! and suddenly you’re giving the people spine and emotional symbolism?!”

He rubs the back of his neck, ears already turning red. “I don’t know, you took it so nicely… I kinda liked how it turned out.”

You pause. Your mouth opens. Closes.

Because this man with shoulders like Greek architecture and a face sculpted by the heavens has the audacity to be shy about being hot.

“I literally keep this photo in a locked folder like a dragon guarding treasure,” you mutter, more to yourself. “And you just drop it on the timeline like it’s Tuesday.”

“I thought it was Sunday”

“That’s not the point.”

You lean back against the counter, arms crossed, trying to hold in the dramatic betrayal you feel in your soul.

Seungcheol fidgets under your stare, dimples threatening to appear. “You’re mad I posted it?”

“No. I’m mad you posted it and then didn’t tag me like a grateful man.”

He snorts. “So you are proud of it.”

“Obviously. It’s like watching Michelangelo post a picture of the Sistine Chapel and not mentioning he used a paintbrush.”

He actually laughs, putting the knife down and coming to wrap his stupid strong arms around your waist. “You’re insane.”

“You’re welcome for the free content.”

“I’ll post another one and tag you.”

“Good. But next time I’m watermarking it.”

“You’re gonna watermark a picture of my back?”

“I’m gonna watermark YOU”

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “Then maybe I should give you more… material to protect?”

You try to stay mad. You really do. But the dimples. The tattoo. The flirty smirk. The apple slice he now gently offers you like a peace treaty.

You take it. Grudgingly.

But not before muttering, “Still can’t believe you soft-launched your spine to the entire internet.”

And he just winks. “Only because you made it look that good.”

You scowl at him like he just betrayed the nation.

He’s still half-grinning when you shove your phone at him again, this time opened to the comments section. You jab your finger at the screen with righteous fury.

“Look at this!”

He blinks. “‘Body of a god, vibes of a boyfriend’… oh.” He looks up, sheepish. “That’s kinda nice?”

You gasp. “Don’t you dare enjoy this. Look at the next one.”

He reads it out loud. “‘This back cured my chronic sadness.’” A pause. “Well that’s just sweet—”

“And this one!” You scroll down aggressively. “This person wants to know if you’re single because you ‘look like you’d build a bookshelf and cry after making love.’”

He chokes. “What?!”

“Don’t act surprised. You literally cried over that dog in the car commercial last week. You’ve branded yourself.”

“Wait—wait, ‘build a bookshelf and cry’—what does that even mean?”

You glare. “It means they’re thirsting. Over my man. Who now has strangers projecting emotional healing and woodwork onto his stupid hot back.”

He’s biting his lip to keep from laughing. You scroll more.

“‘Respectfully, I’d climb him like a jungle gym.’”

“‘This is the type of man that hugs with both arms and smells like cedarwood and loyalty.’”

 “CEDARWOOD AND LOYALTY, SEUNGCHEOL.”

He gives up. He’s laughing now, leaning against the counter, red in the face. You toss the phone on the table dramatically and huff, 

“This is why you’re banned from posting back pics. I knew this would happen. The internet isn’t ready for respectful, tatted men with emotional depth.”

He shrugs, walking over to trap you in his arms again. “Maybe I just wanted to impress you.”

“I already know you’re hot, Cheol. I live with you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” you grumble into his chest, “is now I have to fight the entire internet in the comments and one in particular who said ‘God took his time.’”

He chuckles, brushing his lips to your temple. “Let them look. You’re the one who gets to touch.”

You roll your eyes. “Gross. Stop being smooth.”

“You love it.”

Unfortunately… you do.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Matching Scars

The Bradfords Series Masterlist (Part 7)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!cop!reader

Summary: While engaged in a high-speed car chase, Tim and Lucy watch as the suspect runs into your shop. As Tim pursues the fleeing driver, he can only think of you and his fear of losing you. The comfort and the scars that follow remind Tim why he fell in love with you.

Warnings: angst, car accident, injuries/scars, fear, nonsexual partial nudity (Tim helps r change clothes), fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

A heavy hand dragging across your waist pulls you from your sleep. Tim is getting out of bed, his arms stretched above his head when you open your eyes. The expanse of his bare back draws you in, and you press your hand to his lower back as you move toward his side of the bed. You brush your finger over a scar just above his hip bone, the memory of an incident in Afghanistan that lost its power over him when you touched him the first time.

“Morning,” he greets lowly, leaning into your touch.

“Good morning,” you reply. After yawning, you ask, “What time is it?”

“Quarter ‘til four,” he answers.

“Ugh. Better you than me.”

Tim chuckles, shaking against your hand. He was called in for an early shift, and though your schedules are no longer aligned, you’re glad you don’t have to get out of bed yet.

“I’ll make dinner when I get back,” Tim offers, though you suspect he’s finding something to say just so he doesn’t have to leave your side yet.

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur into the pillow. “I can pick something up. You’ll be tired, if not asleep, by the time I end my shift.”

“See you later?” he asks.

“Of course. Be safe.”

“You, too.”

You’re asleep again by the time Tim returns to kiss your cheek and tell you he loves you. You’ll be at the station in a few hours, and he’ll hear your voice on the radio as always. It doesn’t make leaving you any easier, he thinks as he places a fresh glass of water by your side of the bed and double checks that your favorite drink will be waiting under the Keurig for you when you wake.

“7-Adam-12 responding.”

Tim sighs when he hears you speak over the radio. He’s already getting a little tired, and it’s not even mid-morning. Knowing you’re nearby helps him calm down slightly, something Lucy is sure to appreciate.

“That’s the fifteenth traffic call in less than an hour,” Lucy muses. “I think the phase of the moon is making people act different, drive faster.”

“Chen,” Tim begins, “people speed because they think they’re stupid, not because there’s a waning crescent in the sky.”

 “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“7-Adam-12, requesting Bradford switch to channel 4,” your voice says over the radio.

Tim flips the dial to 4, then lifts the radio toward him. “Bradford, go ahead.”

“Guy I just picked up for going 70 in a 35 says there was some kind of contest,” you say. “Heard anything about that?”

“Contest? To do what?”

“See who- shut up.”

“Bradford?” Tim asks, drawing his brows together.

“Talkative bunch today,” you sigh tiredly, and Tim imagines you scrunching your nose before you continue. “He said someone posted an anonymous message in a chat room promising a Lamborghini to whoever could get the highest speed without getting a ticket.”

“Do you think there’s any merit to that?” Lucy asks Tim.

“If my wife thinks the guy could be trusted, there’s enough merit,” Tim answers. “One of the tools you always have as a cop is your character judgement.”

“I didn’t want to believe him,” you continue, “but he has texts from other people talking about the bet. He insisted on showing them to me… amongst other things.”

Tim rolls his eyes, no longer surprised by the actions of people trying to get out of a ticket or being arrested.

“I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll pass it on to Nell and Angela, see if they’ve got anything,” Tim offers.

“Great,” you answer. “Thank you.”

Tim places the radio back in the console just before a noise disturbance call comes through. It’s been a busy morning, he thinks. Maybe it is the phase of the moon.

“Hey, stranger,” you call, smiling as you wave over the rolled-down window.

“Mom!” Lucy exclaims. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“We need to get coffee soon and catch up,” you tell her. “Ooh, or you could come over and we could do that 24-hour reading challenge you keep sending me.”

“You need to leave my wife alone,” Tim grumbles, leaning toward the wheel to see you.

Your look is enough to make him shake his head and offer a half-hearted apology.

“If you want an invite, just ask,” you joke.

“You want pizza for dinner?” he asks.

“That sounds good,” Lucy interjects.

“Chen,” Tim begins.

“All units, reports of a drunk driver – identified as a male driving a white 2010s Nissan Altima - speeding on West 3rd Street, traveling westbound. Latest call places him east of La Brea,” Nell alerts over the radio.

You and Tim look up simultaneously, similar expressions on your face as you mentally plot a route to intercept the driver.

“What are the odds he’s not drunk and is another one who took the message seriously?” you wonder.

“LAPD posted a bulletin that the guy was a fraud, and the message was taken down,” Tim reminds you.

“People are stupid,” Lucy says, quoting one of Tim’s favourite ways of explaining human behaviour.

“Suspect vehicle turned on Hauser,” another officer adds.

You immediately pull your gear shift down, and Tim is less than a second behind you.

“Go back, I’ll get behind him,” Tim tells you.

Nodding, you press your gas pedal to the floor as you turn on your lights and sirens. You reverse, then turn onto Dunsmuir Avenue. You’ll cross Wilshire, then cut down 8th or 9th Street to cut the suspect off. It will require a lot of speed and impeccable timing, but Tim Bradford is with you, and you trust him more than anyone else in the world.

Lucy notifies dispatch and the other officers in this patrol area that you’re pursuing the car as Tim speeds toward Wilshire behind the suspect car. He slows long enough to ensure that cars will remain stopped, then crosses. Lucy grips the door handle as Tim steers into a wide turn, speeding down 8th Street.

“Tim,” Lucy shouts, moving her hand toward the roof of the car.

He doesn’t have time to hit the brake, doesn’t have time to reach for the radio, doesn’t have time to warn you. As you cross 8th Street, likely planning to cut him off before he could reach Olympic, you don’t see the Altima you’re looking for. The man drives directly into your shop, swerving after his front bumper collides with the tail end of the shop.

Tim slams on the brake as your shop flips. He grips the wheel as the tires squeal, unable to look away as your shop rolls again, slamming down into a front yard after two complete flips across the road.

“He’s bailing,” Tim says suddenly, throwing his door open as the man jumps out of the Nissan and runs north, back toward Wilshire.

Tim’s chest tightens as he runs behind the man. He hears Lucy’s hurried voice through the radio on his belt, hears her footsteps against the pavement behind him. As pain like fire spreads through him, Tim pushes himself to run faster, desperate to stop the man who may have killed you. He needs to go back, get you out of the shop, do everything he can to keep you with him. By the time he catches up with the man, shoving his hands against his shoulders, Tim doesn’t hear Lucy behind him. His radio is filled with overlapping voices as he drops his knee between the man’s kidneys, ignoring his pained yell.

“Shut up!” Tim barks, pushing his hand down onto the man’s upper back before securing the first cuff around his right hand. “That cop you just hit? That’s my wife,” Tim seethes, shifting more of his weight onto the man beneath him. “If you took her from me, this speeding prank will be the least of your worries.”

A patrol car pulls alongside Tim, and the moment the door opens, Tim stands and runs down the road. He barely feels the road beneath him, feeling as if he’s moving through molasses, hyperfocused on your totaled shop littering someone’s front yard. When he slows, approaching the corner, he hears someone crying. The windshield you smile at him through every day is crushed, lying in a mangled mess in the nearest driveway.

An officer looks up at Tim, an expression of sympathy he’s too familiar with on her face.

“Lucy,” Tim whispers, because he can’t bring himself to hear your condition yet.

“She’s right here,” the officer says, gesturing around what’s left of the back of your shop.

Tim holds his breath as he takes the final steps separating him from your seat. Lucy is kneeling on the ground, tears streaming steadily down her face as she holds your hand. You’re lying in the grass, not moving.

Then, just as Tim is thinking about everything he should have said but didn’t, Lucy whispers something. And you laugh, squeezing her hand.

“Where’s Tim?” you ask, a little breathless but otherwise seemingly fine.

“Dad’s probably trying to kill the driver,” Lucy mumbles.

Tim takes another step toward you, then falls to his knees. You open your eyes when you hear him, your gaze softening when you see the fear on his face. Tim doesn’t see any injuries on you, but he moves slowly as he places his hands on you. When you nod, sending tears cascading over your cheeks as your lower lip trembles, Tim doesn’t hesitate.

He pulls you against his chest, raising his hand to cup the back of your head as he cradles you in his arms. Lucy releases your hand before you press your palms to Tim’s uniform shirt.

“I’ve got you,” Tim whispers.

You let all of your feelings in then, not caring that you sob against your husband’s chest. The fear you felt, the uncomfortable sensation produced by adrenaline draining from your system, and the reality of your situation collide in your mind, making you emotional. Tim only holds you tighter, pressing his forehead against your hair as he whispers to you.

When your tears slow, your breathing evens despite the echo of sirens approaching from every direction. Tim removes one arm from you, nodding when you glance up at him.

Lucy takes Tim’s invitation, colliding against his side but careful when she wraps her arm around you. The group hug leads you to sigh shakily, but you cling to your family, as dysfunctional as it is.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Mom,” Lucy whispers. “I’m making whatever you want for dinner tonight. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Lucy,” Tim says with you.

“Wait,” she murmurs, pulling back from the hug to look at Tim. “Can I come over and cook for you both? Check in on everything before I leave?”

“You already invited yourself over, Chen,” he points out. “No point asking permission now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep procedure,” she says. “I should have stayed with you, but I couldn’t stand not knowing, and she was alone.”

“Lucy,” Tim interrupt firmly. “Thank you for checking on her, for getting her out.”

Lucy opens her mouth, then nods. Sergeant Grey slams a car door, leading Lucy to excuse herself from your embrace and approach him. Tim moves his arm down your back, freezing when you hiss in pain.

“Get a medic over here,” Tim demands of a nearby officer.

“I think it’s just a scratch, Tim,” you argue.

He pulls his hand from your back, nodding when he sees there isn’t any blood on his skin. It’s not enough confirmation, though, and he still wants to hear it from someone who knows what they’re looking for. The EMT that jogs over laughs at your insistence that nothing could possibly be wrong.

“Well, you are what we call miraculously unscathed,” he announces after a moment. “Other than a scratch on your lower back that I bandaged, there’s no sign you were in that car. I’d recommend getting a few x-rays and scans to ensure there’s no internal damage, but I see no reason you’d need to be admitted today.”

“Thank you,” Tim says, nodding as the man stands.

He turns toward Grey, who lifts a set of keys from his pocket.

“I took the liberty of driving your truck over. Your bags are still in your lockers, of course, but I thought you’d want a way to leave on your own… no matter what happened,” Grey says. He looks down at you and sighs. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid.”

“Tim would have been insufferable if you weren’t,” Lucy adds, successfully lightening the mood.

You lean away from Tim and take a deep breath, preparing yourself to get up. He clicks his tongue as he moves forward.

“You don’t-“ you begin. Tim cuts you off when he hooks one arm under your knees and wraps the other around your waist. Pushing himself up, he moves effortlessly, holding you against his chest as he moves toward his truck.

“I’ll be by later, Mom,” Lucy calls after you.

You wave as Tim buckles the seatbelt over you. The dozens of officers that have gathered around you stand at attention, saluting you.

“Wait,” you request, lifting your hand to Tim’s chest. “I want a picture with the shop.”

“I know we all have a dark sense of humour, but… are you sure?” Tim checks.

“I walked away from that. Well, I would have if you hadn’t carried me,” you point out. “Please?”

Tim nods and takes your hand as you slide from the seat. The first picture is just you, but then every other officer finds a place around the shop, smiling as an unsuspecting neighbor taps the camera shutter with a shaking hand.

“There’s the station Christmas card,” Grey muses, glancing over Tim’s shoulder to see the photo. “Now go home. Get some rest and keep us updated.”

Tim closes your door, glances at Lucy, and stops.

“Are you okay?” she checks.

Tim pulls Lucy into a hug, whispers, “Thank you,” then steps back and joins you in his truck.

“Are you alright?” Wade asks, watching Lucy stare at her boots.

“I know it was just the relief talking,” she begins, “but that felt like progress. And he let me call him Dad.”

Wade pats her shoulder stiffly. “Don’t get too carried away.”

Tim kneels at your feet the moment the front door closes. He unlaces your boots, tugs them off, and tosses them into the bin by the door before he stands and cups your face in his hands.

“I’m okay,” you promise softly, spreading your fingers over his chest.

Tim nods before he leads you into your bedroom. Carefully, he removes your uniform, leaving you in a t-shirt and your underwear. He’s gentle, reverent, respectful, and quiet.

“Why aren’t you talking?” you ask, your voice tight.

Watching Tim’s back, your concern about the answer shifts, worried that you did something or said something you don’t remember. When your husband turns toward you again, tears have pooled at his waterline, his jaw is clenched tightly, and his hands are gripping his pants so hard his knuckles are white.

“I thought I was going to watch my best friend die today,” he says, looking up when he blinks. “When I got back and everyone was just standing there, not wanting to talk to me, I thought it was too late. I never should have left you, not after watching what happened.”

“Tim,” you sigh, stepping forward to take his hands. “You were doing your job. You did exactly what you were supposed to.”

“You wouldn’t have done it,” he argues, pressing his tongue against his cheek.

“No,” you agree. “But you’ve always been a better cop than me.”

Tim shakes his head, but you tighten your grip on his hands, and he understands your instruction to stop arguing. He kisses your forehead, then pecks your lips.

“Do you want to finish changing?” he asks.

“Please,” you answer, releasing his hands.

Tim lifts your favourite pajama set out of a drawer and sets it on the bed. His fingers find the bottom of your t-shirt before he looks at you, asking for permission to remove it.

“Yeah,” you murmur, familiar with his need for verbal confirmation.

Tim pulls the shirt over your head and throws it over his shoulder, sending it directly into the hamper.

“Show off,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes, but you see the smile on his face as he pulls the pajama bottoms open. You place one hand on his shoulder for balance as you step one leg in, then the other. Tim pulls the fabric over your hips, spreading his hands over your waist when they’re set where you like them. His finger brushes the bandage on your back before he reaches for your shirt.

“Did you realize it’s in the same place as your scar?” you question. “The scratch?”

“I guess it is,” Tim responds.

You raise your hands to Tim’s jaw and kiss him, not caring that he drops your shirt to the floor so he can hold your waist. You’re both breathless when you pull back, but you keep your hands on his cheeks and hold his gaze.

“Stop blaming yourself,” you demand.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim whispers, smiling when you close your eyes and scrunch your nose.

Someone rings the doorbell, so Tim opens a drawer and pulls one of your favourite t-shirts out.

“She has an hour,” Tim says as he pulls the shirt carefully over your head.

“Be nice,” you murmur.

“To you,” he agrees, pushing his hand under your shirt to trace the skin around your bandage.

You shiver at his touch, already imagining the inevitable moment when he kisses that spot. Lucy rings the doorbell again, so you separate yourself from Tim and follow him into the living room. He points at the couch, so you take your place there and wait for him to invite Lucy inside.

That’s my best friend, you think as he nods along to Lucy’s rambling as soon as he opens the door.

“Wait, tea?” you ask, interrupting Lucy’s explanation of what she brought. “That sounds amazing.”

Tim assures Lucy he can follow the instructions on the box, leaving you to talk to Lucy. And comfort her, you realize quickly, because she was more scared than she let on when she helped you climb out of the caved-in shop door earlier. Tim walks behind the back of the couch after he finishes making the tea, dropping a kiss to the top of your head before he takes his place beside you.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Charlotte's Web

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,888

Warning(s): Pregnancy, brief descriptions of childbirth, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Five years have passed since Agatha left. When she sees you in public for the first time, she can't help but stop and talk. But what she wasn't expecting to see was a little girl with brown hair and blue eyes, calling you "mom".

A/N: Hello! I've been super busy with work and moving rich kids out of their apartments, so I haven't written a thing since my depressing Avenger!Agatha oneshots. This was def a breath of fresh air from the depressing stuff I've been writing.

This was originally an anon request, but tumblr fucked up my post so here it is: Can I ask a fic with Agatha Harkness x fem! reader where Agatha ends her relationship with Reader - even though she really loves her - to protect Reader from Rio and Rio’s torments without knowing that Reader was pregnant? After recovering her body, Agatha sees Reader with a little girl Who calls Reader “mom”

Tip Jar of hearts💕

Masterlist

When you see the double lines, your stomach sinks. It was only a theory. Only a possibility that seemed impossible. But here you are, standing in your bathroom and holding onto the sink as you cry.

It’s been two weeks since you begged her not to leave.

“As long as you are with me, there will always be a target on your back,” she said. “No rune, no spell could ever keep you safe if you stay with me.”

You cried–whimpered almost–as you held onto her arm. “I don’t care, Agatha. I want you. I want to be with you. Please!”

“I know,” Agatha whispered, and kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

No amount of ‘I love you’s and ‘please’s would convince her to stay. So, you let her go. 

You spent the next two weeks in bed, sick to your stomach–or so you thought. The nausea was frequent, but you truly thought it was because of how much you were crying. But clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you’re conflicted. You know you should tell her–you want to tell her–but she left. She’s gone. 

And as the months go by, as your belly grows, it’s all you can think about. Every morning, you wake up and wonder if you should call Agatha. After all, it is her child too.

The question–the urge–comes up every time.

You think about her picking out baby clothes with you.

You think about her helping you build the crib.

You think about her being a mother:

Cradling your future baby in her arms, holding them and smiling as they wave their hand in her face.

You can almost see it.

And every time you think about that future–that unattainable future–your heart breaks and tears choke you. 

But you live. 

You take care of yourself, because it’s not just you now. You plan every meal and check every ingredient on every package. You schedule doctors appointments and you research everything.

Because you’re scared.

Because you have no one else with you.

No one but the child you’ll hold in your arms.

And you’re going to make damn sure that you don’t screw this up.

When your water breaks, the reality of your situation sinks in. Building the crib, picking out the clothes, taking the vitamins–that was the easy part. Now, you regret never telling her. 

You want her here. You need her here for this. 

It feels impossible doing this by yourself. Even with the epidural, the emotional toll is drowning you–sitting in that hospital bed, doing nothing but waiting and hoping that when you look down at your phone, her name will appear. 

But it doesn’t.

You could call her. 

You could call her and when she picks up, you could tell her everything.

‘I know you left, but I needed to tell you that I’ve been pregnant this whole time and that it’s yours and I’m now in labor, and that I miss you so much and that I need you here with me because I can’t do this alone.’

But that’s a lot for a phone call.

So instead of begging Agatha to come back, you stay quiet. You squeeze a nurse’s hand as you push, and when your daughter is placed on your chest, tiny and squirming, the thought of Agatha is fleeting.

It lingers in your head–having her there with you, seeing her daughter, holding her daughter.

But as the days go by, you forget about her. Your sole focus is on Charlotte. As scared as you were–as you are–you can’t imagine life without her.

Even if you’re doing it by yourself.

Five years goes by quicker than you thought it would. 

You’re woken up on Saturday morning by the pitter patter of little feet and the covers on the other side of the bed being pulled on. Before you can roll over, the bed dips and tiny hands are shaking you. 

“Mama…” Charlotte whispers. “Mom…”

“Hm?” You turn over, eyes still closed.

“It’s Saturday,” she says quietly.

When you open your eyes, your arms quickly grab her and pull her close. “No it’s not,” you tease, smiling as she giggles.

“Yes, it is,” she insists. “We go shopping today.”

In the past five years, you’ve tried so hard to forget. To forget Agatha, to forget that you ever loved her. But when your daughter breaks free from your grasp, it’s hard to. 

Charlotte is every bit of Agatha–from the looks down to the personality. She has the same blue eyes, the same frizzy, brown hair. She has the same attitude and wit, the same way of finding loopholes in everything you tell her to do.

When you told her to clean her room one day, she did. However, when you checked under the bed and found all of the toys she was supposed to put away, she looked at you and shrugged. 

“You didn’t tell me where I should put my toys.”

You practically have to bribe her every time she doesn't want to do something. She’s stubborn beyond belief and too clever for her own good, and you love her endlessly. 

“Are we shopping today?” you ask, acting confused. 

“Yes,” Charlotte giggles. “I can have a book. You said that.”

And the books. So many books. 

She loves toys, but she loves books more. She reads picture books, chapter books, even whatever novel you’re reading at the moment isn’t off limits. If it has words, she’ll read it. 

After a quick breakfast and bickering over what to wear, you buckle Charlotte into her carseat. The drive to town doesn’t take long. The majority of it is spent on Charlotte telling you everything that happened in her dream last night.

“And then–And then she turned into a square!” she gawks as you help her out of the car.

In the book store–the bookstore that you promised her last week that you’d go to–she runs straight to the children’s section, her light-up sneakers blinking with each step. 

She stands on her tippy toes as she reaches for a book and pulls it down. It’s routine at this point–going to the bookstore and letting her look at every book her heart desires until she eventually decides on the first book she touched. You smile as you watch her get excited over every cover.

“Look, Mama, this one has a cat!”

“I see!” you chirp. “What’s that one about?”

You listen with your full attention as she reads out the description on the back. Since having your daughter, you never understood the phrase, “Like a kid in a candy store”.

Because clearly they had never seen your kid in a book store.

A throat clears behind you. “Hey.”

That voice. Your heart leaps–in a good way or bad way, you have no idea. But you turn around quickly, and there she is.

Brown, frizzy hair. Those crystal clear, blue eyes that carry a hint of mischief wherever they look.

You take a quick glance behind you to see Charlotte engrossed in another book. “Agatha, what are you–?”

“Well, I was in here and I thought I heard your voice,” she explains quietly. “H–”

“Mama, look at this one!” You’re both interrupted by Charlotte pulling on your shirt. “Look, my name is on it! There’s a spider too! Can I have it?”

You can see the look in Agatha’s eyes–confusion, shock–and you look down at your daughter. “Yeah, honey, you can have it.” You dig in your purse for your wallet and take out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Charlotte. “Here, why don’t you go over to the little cafe and get us one of those cookies to share.”

“Can I have my own this time?” she pouts. 

“No,” you say. “We’ll share one.”

You hold the book she chose as you watch her run over to the cafe. “Slow down!” you call after her.

“What’s her name?” Agatha asks, and you look at her.

Your mouth goes dry. “Charlotte. Her name is Charlotte.”

“How old is she?” 

“Five,” you smile. “I just enrolled her in kindergarten for this August, actually.”

And both of you are quiet, because both of you know the next question she wants to ask.

But you don’t let her.

“Do you wanna come over for dinner tomorrow?” you ask. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Your eyes drift to the cafe where Charlotte talks to the barista with dramatic hand gestures.“But I know what you’re thinking right now, and I don’t want to do this in public.”

Your stomach is twisted in knots the entire day. As you stand at the kitchen counter cutting veggies, you glance over at Charlotte every now and then. She’s on the living room floor, TV on with her favorite show as she reads to the cat.

Nothing will be the same after tonight. 

You’re kicking yourself over not telling her. You should’ve told her as soon as you saw those two lines. 

A quiet voice cuts through your thoughts and startles you.

“Mama, what’s for dinner?”

You hesitate, finding your words. “Uh–chicken parmesan and veggies. We’re having someone over for dinner tonight, so go change out of your jammies.”

“Who?” she asks, jumping up and down.

“Just one of my old friends,” you say. “Now, go change. She’ll be here soon.”

Six o’clock approaches quickly and there’s a knock on the door. In her fuzzy socks, Charlotte bounds for the door and opens it. You pour yourself a second glass of wine as you listen to the two of them talk.

“Where’s your mom?” Agatha asks.

And without hesitation, Charlotte responds with a chipper, “Drinking wine in the kitchen.”

You choke on your wine and as you wipe your mouth and take a deep breath, the two of them round the corner. Seeing Agatha in your home, standing beside what looks like a mirror reflection of her, makes your heart thunder in your chest.

“Mom, it’s the girl from the book store!” Charlotte says.

“Well, she wasn’t wrong,” Agatha chuckles. “What glass is this, hm?”

You glare at her, holding back a noticeable smile. “I just poured it, Agatha–but it’s my second. Would you like a glass?”

Agatha sits at the kitchen island with her own glass of wine in hand. Beside her, Charlotte sits on the stool, coloring a page in her coloring book. At one point, she interrupts Agatha, forcing a crayon into her hand.

“Oh, you want me to color too?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says. “That’s why I gave you a crayon.”

Agatha raises her eyebrows. “You know, you’ve got a lip on you.”

And without missing a beat, and without stopping her coloring, Charlotte says matter-of-factly, “I got two lips on me actually.”

Agatha looks at you, jaw dropping as you snicker.

“Charlotte, honey, can you help set the table, please?” you ask.

She huffs, “But me and Aggie are coloring.”

“Yeah, we’re coloring," Agatha scoffs, and when she glances up at you, she smiles. 

“Aggie?” you repeat, and sigh. “Wow, I haven’t heard that name in years.” You purse your lips and shake your head as you open the cabinet. 

Three plates.

Three napkins.

Three forks.

Two knives.

The setting at the small table in your kitchen pulls at your heart strings. If you had told her five years ago, this simple sight–this simple act of putting three plates on your kitchen table wouldn’t hurt as much.

There’s never been more than two places at this table. 

Thanksgiving.

Christmas.

Easter.

Not a single holiday had more than two place settings. But maybe after tonight, maybe after the way you’ve seen the two of them together, maybe things could be different.

Dinner is filled with conversation–mostly from Charlotte, who explains the plot of her favorite books. At one point, she sighs, almost out of breath from how much she’s been talking.

“Mom, can I have some more juice?” she asks.

You nod your head, and without moving from the table you raise your hand. A soft orange glow wisps around your fingers and the fridge opens. The bottle of juice floats over and Charlotte gasps.

She leans in close, her voice quiet. “Mama, we’re not supposed to use magic with other people.”

“No, honey, it’s okay,” you assure her, taking the juice from the air and pouring it in her cup. You look across the table at Agatha, smiling softly. “We can use magic when Agatha’s here.”

“Is she like us?” Charlotte whispers.

You nod and send the juice back to the fridge. “She is.”

“Really?” Charlotte gasps and turns to Agatha. “Is yours orange?”

Agatha sets down her wine glass and smiles. “No, it’s purple.”

You had never seen your daughter more excited. She’s almost squealing with happiness, and when she turns to you, she’s smiling brightly.

“Mama, she’s like me!”

And when you look at Agatha, you can see the hurt–the longing–in her eyes.

The day that her magic started showing was…rough. The “Terrible Twos” hit her hard. This particular day was harder. 

Every ‘no’ was followed by a wave of tears.

And so was every ‘yes’--because usually when you said yes, something ended up going wrong.

And this particular ‘yes’ for ice cream turned into a tantrum when Charlotte saw that there were chocolate chips in her cookie dough ice cream. Not even offering to pick the chocolate chips out placated her, and in the end, the bowl was thrown across the table and shattered against the wall.

But she didn’t throw it. Neither of you did.

When you saw that faint glow of purple, you couldn’t lie, you were slightly disappointed. The kid looks every bit like Agatha, she could’ve at least gotten your magic. But after the initial shock, your only goal was to prevent magical mishaps. 

They happened frequently, and not just with anger. When she scraped her knee in the backyard, the door on the shed blew off its hinges. On Christmas morning last year, when she got the present she begged for, a bulb in a lamp burst. Every intense reaction came with an equally intense surge of magic.

Dinner carries on with Charlotte placating Agatha with questions about magic. And eventually she’s back in the living room with the cat, eyes glued to the movie you turned on for her.

Now you’re in the most domestic position you could’ve ended up in tonight. Agatha packs the leftovers in plastic containers while you wash the dishes. And when the leftovers are in the fridge, she stands beside you at the sink with a dish towel, wiping the clean plates dry. 

“We could’ve had this, you know,” Agatha mumbles, not looking at you, but focusing very hard on drying the dish you handed her. “If you told me, I would’ve…”

“Agatha you–” You cut yourself off, feeling the frustration rise in your throat. Your eyes dart to the living room where Charlotte is still oblivious to what’s happening. “We’ll talk about this later…when she’s asleep.”

When the kitchen is clean, you and Agatha join Charlotte in the living room. When Agatha sits down, Charlotte immediately runs over to show her the stuffed animal she has.

“What’s its name?” Agatha asks.

“Her name is Ellie. She’s a elephant,” she says. “They’re my favorite, but the book said they’re going extinct.” Her arms open wide as she talks. “It also said that they eat three hundred-thirty pounds of food every day!” 

Agatha’s mouth drops and she gasps. “Wow! That is a lot!”

The rest of the evening is quiet. After listing off facts about elephants, Charlotte climbs up on the couch and sidles against you. As the movie comes to a close, you see her eyes struggling to stay open and you sigh. 

“Alright, it’s time for bed,” you say, and pull her into your arms as you stand up. 

She whines, protesting that she’s not tired, but her head is heavy on your shoulder and her elephant stuffy is slipping from her grasp.

“Yes, it’s time for bed, honey,” you say again, walking toward the stairs with her limp in your arms. “Say goodnight to Agatha.”

She raises her head quickly, seeming to have risen from the land of sleep. “Can she come with us?”

You look back at Agatha and it’s clear she’s hesitant. “Yeah, if she wants.”

Bedtime is much quieter than usual. For once, Charlotte doesn’t argue with anything. In fact, she cooperates, and she and Agatha consult each other on the best pair of pajamas to wear. And you’re almost brought to tears when you watch Agatha crouch down and tuck her into bed.

Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet. And her touch is softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“Where’s Ellie?” she asks. When she finds the elephant, she tucks it beneath Charlotte’s arm and smiles. “There. Now she’s all warm and tight with you.”

Charlotte’s smile is sleepy, but she reaches for the book on her nightstand. “Mama reads me a chapter,” she mumbles. “We’re on five.”

Agatha takes the book. “Charlotte’s Web? This is a good choice.” She opens the book to chapter five. “Alright,” she sighs. “Chapter Five: Charlotte–hey, that’s your name!”

As Charlotte giggles and Agatha begins reading, you leave the room to change into comfier clothes. Even with your bathroom door shut, you can hear Agatha doing silly voices and Charlotte giggling over them. 

With a fresh face and comfier clothes, you stand quietly in the doorway of your daughter’s bedroom. 

Her eyes are heavy, and she’s curled into a ball, but she’s just hanging on to Agatha’s words.

“‘Wilbur was merely suffering the doubts and fears that often go with finding a new friend’,” Agatha reads, her voice soft and gentle as Charlotte's eyes flutter. “‘In good time he was to discover that he was mistaken about Charlotte. Underneath her rather bold and cruel exterior, she had a kind heart, and she was to prove loyal and true to the very end.’”

When she closes the book, you walk over and pull the covers over Charlotte’s shoulders. Your hand smooths back her dark hair and you place a kiss on her temple. 

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

“Goodnight,” you say. “I love you.”

You follow Agatha out of the room, switching the lights off and turning the nightlight on. The mood has seemed to stiffen now that your daughter is no longer there, and you pour the two of you a glass of wine. 

The TV plays in the background as you sit on the couch together, a little too far apart than you would’ve liked–but you would never admit that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Agatha asks quietly. She sits on her side, elbow resting on the back of the couch as she faces you, and your eyes can’t seem to help but stare at her muscles. 

“I don't know,” you shrug, taking a sip of your wine. “I mean…Agatha you left. With the excuse that I was in danger if you stayed. And if you stayed and we had a child? It–I didn’t think you’d want to…you left, Agatha.”

“I didn’t want to,” she mutters. “Rio was…” She lets out a dry chuckle. “Well, you know Rio. If you had told me…I would’ve come back.”

You take in a shaky breath. “I wanted to, I did. I kept telling myself that I could do it alone, and that I don’t need you.”

“Well, it worked,” Agatha shrugs, smirking into her glass. 

“More or less,” you sigh, and you note how she scoots closer to you. “I tried seeing people, but they…” You try to find words to accurately describe it, but the only words that come out are, “They weren’t you.”

Agatha looks at you and her face softens. She moves just a bit closer and takes a long sip of her wine before setting it down on the coffee table. “You know,” she says, making herself comfortable, “I think this wine is starting to hit me.”

You raise a brow, and knowing exactly what she’s doing, you grin. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she huffs. “I don’t think I should drive home. That would be very irresponsible of me, and now that I have a child, it would be best if I made responsible choices.”

You can feel your throat tighten. “Do you really mean that?” you ask quietly. 

Agatha moves closer so that she’s now directly in front of you. Your knees press against one another and her hand brushes against your cheek before it rests on your leg. “I do,” she mutters, thumb brushing against your bare skin. “She’s…she’s something,” Agatha chuckles. “That’s for sure.”

“Every time she does something that reminds me of you, I wish I had told you…which is a lot, because everything she does is…” You sigh as you trail off, tears brimming your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn–I should’ve told you, Agatha. I’m sorry.”

She pulls you into her arms and you feel her lips on your head. “It’s okay,” she mumbles, and pulls back to look at you. “It’s okay, really. I’m just glad I’m here now.”

“Me too,” you rasp.

“Now, I’m not gonna be like one of those deadbeat dads,” Agatha says, changing the mood to a much more amusing tone. “Contrary to them, I quite like my child, and I fully intend on being present in her life.”

“She’s exactly like you.” You smile softly as you watch her refill your glasses.

“I might as well have had sex with a copying machine,” she says a little too casually.

Your jaw drops as you laugh and take the glass she’s offering you. “You are terrible!”

“Eyes, hair, magic, it’s incredible,” Agatha shrugs. 

Your laughter fades into a sigh. “How are we gonna tell her?”

“I dunno,” she mumbles, swirling the wine in her glass. “Not anytime soon. She barely knows me.”

“Yeah, we should probably wait a bit.” You lean into her side, head dropping to her shoulder. “I missed you,” you mumble. 

Agatha’s hand runs through your hair and you hear her sigh. “I missed you too.”

It feels natural to be in this position: on the couch, glasses of wine on the table, tucking your daughter into bed together. It feels right. 

It feels normal.

“Do you want this?” you ask, looking up at Agatha. “Do you really want…us?”

Agatha looks at you and smiles sadly. “Yeah,” she breathes, and her eyes dart down to your lips. “I…” You can see her throat bob. “I love you…both of you, and I wanna be here.”

Tears slip from your eyes and you lean in, pressing the softest kiss to her lips. “I love you too.”

And just like Wilbur, you too had suffered from the doubts and the confusions, and jumped to conclusions during the changing tides. But you were proven wrong in good time.

Yes, Agatha is bold and audacious. Her words cut like knives, and she apologizes to no one. But even if she seems cruel to the outside world, you know her. You know that she’s not as cold as she’s made out to be. You know that she holds more love than what she wants others to believe. You know that she’s caught in your web, and that in the end, she’ll always be back. 

Even if it takes a bit of time.

[capitalisticveins]

everytime im not the first person to like your post a kitten is abducted by an alien… think about that the next time u type up a silly little tumblr post….

Why the kitties???

Kale what influenced this😭

[scorched-cipher]

Hey, y’all, quick genuine question for ya. I was looking through the list of Warrior Cats characters that were killed because I’m working on my AU. I was checking over the list of deaths Wiki and caught a bit of misinfo that maybe one of you who have an account could fix?

Look at the one talking about Bumble. If you read the books, it is shown and has been discussed that Clear Sky killed her since her wounds were too clean to be from a fox. It is not explicitly stated, but the evidence that confirms Clear Sky’s claims to be insufficient. Just because the faint scent of a fox lingered in the area doesn’t mean that it had attacked Bumble. Additionally, no effort was made on the characters’ ends to try to confirm this further. They didn’t really check the body, either. Clear Sky tried to cover his own ass because he knew Gray Wing would believe him. Thus, the information portrayed on the Wiki is incorrect.

Anyways, that’s it. I’m kind of sketched out from even working with the information from the Wiki because a lot of it appears biased for some reason. I don’t seek to argue about this or anything because I know Clear Sky has fans, I just want to be able to accurately adapt the canon into my AU 😭

I’m a very forgetful person, so I like checking my info and I thought the wiki would at least get me a quick snapshot into what I’ve forgotten. It’s annoying for me to have to triple check the Wiki, which should have accurate information, and then force myself to reread the singular arc that made me feel insane. Thank you!

[ceramicbeetle]

never going to get past matrix resurrections choosing to make neo someone with a distorted perception of reality being gaslit and manipulated into compliance by his therapist, i’m so normal about it

[oflgtfol]

WHY ARE YOU CONSULTING A SOCIAL SCIENTIST ON WHETHER ASTROLOGY COUNTS AS A SCIENCE. WHY DOESN'T ANYONE EVER CONSULT ACTUAL ASTRONOMERS. BECAUSE THEY KNOW THE ANSWER THEY'LL GET THAT'S WHY!!!

[youremyonlyhope]

Hey universe, can you stop putting me in situations where I notice a miscommunication between two people and have to make the decision about pointing it out and possibly inserting myself into drama that doesn't involve me, or not telling them and letting it play out possibly badly for someone I care about? Please? Because this happens way too often.

[midnightwind]

I need to make them meaner, actually

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

god I fucking hate this fandom i hate so much that i have to tiptoe on eggshells around any piece of art with danny and vlad interacting in any way. there's so many layers to their dynamic I wish people wouldn't be gross about it

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired Stalker AU

AKA "Tim Drake is a little obsessive, possessive, and really, really likes his new boyfriend (Danny)" prompt idea!! No non-con, violence, or dead doves. Brief reference to human experimentation.

Inspired by this one post where Tim kept a methodical journal of Danny's resting pulse, body temperature, weaknesses, tracked him literally all the time, and Danny was like *heart-eyes*

I like the idea of Tim's idea of love being completely a bit skewed. He was neglected as a kid and craved attention, affection, being wanted; so, understandably, he assumes that's what other people want, too. He'd only had one boyfriend before. Kon was sarcastic, funny, and sweet, but even he couldn't handle Tim's... staring. The unblinking intensity in those eyes, the hundreds of pictures of himself on Tim's phone, somehow Tim knowing about Kon's conversations and experiences without having been there.

Needless to say, Tim and Kon's relationship ended with a harsh reiteration that most people need boundaries.

So, when Tim meets this very cute messy-haired boy at Gotham-U, he shoves down the instinctive urge to know everything. Mentally captures moments, memorizes them, instead of taking pictures. Shoves earbuds in to avoid listening in on Danny's conversations (oh, his name's Danny, which he overheard when the boy was speaking with the TA).

It's so hard not to obsess, though. Danny is... well, he's haunting. His crystalline eyes make Tim's heart stutter in his chest, chills rising along his arms; he swears there's this aura around Danny that's just utterly compelling. (Stop it, Tim, you'll scare him off.) But Tim can actually be a person sometimes, so he just asks, "Do you want to go out for coffee with me sometime?" And he's psyched when Danny says yes!! (He tries really, really hard not to memorize the fact that Danny likes hot oatmilk chai lattes, uses his left hand to hold his drink, and prefers not to use a coffee sleeve. Does Danny always hold his cups by the lid? Does he prefer- Tim stops himself.)

And Tim is a great boyfriend!! They go on dates (he doesn't avidly stare at the way Danny's eyes sparkle while at Gotham-U's planetarium). Tim learns Danny's favorite music the normal way (he doesn't hack into Danny's Spotify... although he's suddenly found himself listening to an artist named Ember). And Tim has a totally normal album of pictures of his boyfriend on his phone (his burner phone is a different matter entirely, but not even Batman himself could get it unlocked. Tim's got that phone sealed up tighter than the Fortress of Solitude).

Except Tim notices Danny becoming more withdrawn. More tired, dark bags under his eyes and stealing Tim's double espresso (he never does that, it's too bitter for him, why isn't he drinking his oatmilk latte?). Leaning his head on Tim's shoulder during lectures to take naps. And Tim's becoming more frantic the more lethargic Danny becomes.

Maybe he's more like Bruce "Contingency Plan" Wayne than he's willing to admit. Tim sets a hard boundary for himself: I'm just going to Google his symptoms. That's it.

He spends the next 42 hours obsessively researching Danny: hacks into his phone, downloads all his previous location history, texts, calls, background checks everybody Danny's been in contact with. Re-traces his steps down to the minute, finds all his Google searches, activates Danny's laptop webcam. He's determined to find out what's wrong with his boyfriend.

And because Tim is Red Robin, who literally became part of the Batfam because of his stalking tendencies and is one of the greatest detectives since Batman, he finds out. He finds out that Danny Fenton is one Phantom, a vigilante from Amity; finds obscure clips of newspapers mentioning a young boy's tragic death, discovers the GIW, uncovers classified information containing metahuman experimentation (let's say he doesn't quite know about Ghosts, but Metas are close enough).

Somehow, he makes a connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus Pit (maybe not necessarily the right connection, but something-adjacent). After all, Jason was resurrected via "Evil Baja Blast" and Ra's al Ghul used it to make himself immortal. It would make sense that the GIW could sample Lazarus Pit water and use it to experiment on metahumans. So... Does Danny just need more Lazarus Pit water?

Cue Tim making use of the Drake and Wayne family wealth to literally overnight mason jars full of Lazarus water. Ra's al Ghul has no idea how it happened. He tests the reaction of Danny's DNA and the Lazarus water only to realize he was right. (Lazarus Pit waters are just excessively concentrated ambient ectoplasm, I guess?)

Tim does what any good boyfriend would do and spikes Danny's oatmilk lattes with Lazarus Pit water. And it helps. Danny is suddenly so much more energetic, there's that glittering shine to his eyes, and he looks so much healthier. Happier. Tim can't stop staring at him. If anything, he stares more, tries to memorize every angle of his boyfriend's face; he collects more candid pictures than before, always catching the gentle curl of Danny's lips when he's distracted; doesn't disengage the tracking apps or phone mirroring software.

He's just happy that his boyfriend is feeling better, more like himself. It's just a perk that Danny doesn't know about Tim's minor stalking tendencies.

(Danny absolutely knows.)

[sejianismodding]

🎁 [BG] CAS Filters -- I did it, baby! 🎓 INSTRUCTIONS (IMAGES) NOW AVAILABLE!

☠️ REMINDER: Double-check the OP for updates!

⚔️ Requires - TS4: BASE GAME

☄️ Updated - 5/22/2025

🚀 Initial Release - 4/22/2025

🎁 Download and Discussions: https://www.patreon.com/posts/126616540

🗺️ Modding Announcements: https://www.patreon.com/posts/109291501

⚙️ EUREKA! I figured it out! I can now create custom filters in CAS for just about anything. This is going to ruin my life… but maybe it'll make The Sims 4 a little more tolerable for you.

🦄 Re-blog this post. Share it around. @ your favorite creators. Tell your friends and your anemones. This is happening even if I have to do it myself.

📸 I will take better screenshots when I get the chance. I literally figured out how to do this in the middle of doing my BASE GAME CAS Overrides, CAS Add-Ons, and CAS De-Bloating™. In other words, figuring this out completely derailed my modding life.

—

🌸 WE CAN DO THIS. YOU AND ME. TOGETHER:

For all intents and purposes, this is a "community project". I am willing and able to create and maintain the required override, the hundreds upon hundreds of unique 9-digit "IDs" for the "TagValueNumber", and the unique Strings, etc., but I can't possibly override every custom CAS item in existence.

Help me make this a reality, and also, keep your fingers crossed that the override doesn't break under the weight of the hundreds upon hundreds of entries I'm adding to it.

Oh hai, @sims4studioofficial. Can you add a BATCH FIX that <LOOKS THROUGH MY WISH LIST> allows us to add a "SpecialContent" TAG with a custom "TagValueNumber" to a whole folder of CAS mods? Even if you can't get the "CategoryNumber" to copy properly, a BATCH FIX will at least eliminate half the busywork.

🎓 HOW IT DO, PIKACHU:

If you're well-versed in creating or modifying CAS content, all you need to do is add a new TAG to your swatches - you can do just the first swatch, but you should do all swatches - and change the "CategoryNumber" to "127" (without the quotes), and change the "TagValueNumber" to the desired 9-digit "ID".

For everyone else who is new to this, instructional screenshots have been provided under the spreadsheet. Don't forget to grab the JSON files and toss them into "Documents\Sims 4 Studio\Custom Tags"to make life easier.

🌸 A UNIQUE 9-DIGIT "ID" FOR EVERYONE:

I wanted to @ everyone in this post, but Tumblr appears to have @ limits, so I'm doing multiple posts instead.

TagValueNumbers - Part 1: https://../781101093269749760

TagValueNumbers - Part 2: https://../781133788117942272

TagValueNumbers - Part 3: https://../781165285574131712

TagValueNumbers - Part 4: https://../781274185632727040

TagValueNumbers - Part 5: https://../781314537665298432

TagValueNumbers - Part 6: https://../781413445403820032

TagValueNumbers - Lucky 7: https://../781427101175808000

TagValueNumbers - Part 8: https://../781766647579115520

TagValueNumbers - Part 9: https://../781772569760169985

TagValueNumbers - Part 10: https://../782039895383375873

TagValueNumbers - Part 11: https://../782614845473390592

TagValueNumbers - Part 12: https://../782672108557893632

TagValueNumbers - Part 13: https://../783433389583843328

TagValueNumbers - Part 14: https://../784160883600474112

TagValueNumbers - Part 15: https://../784165978829357056

TagValueNumbers - Part 16: https://../784173226147332096

TagValueNumbers - Part 17: https://../784178235638448129

TagValueNumbers - Part 18: https://../784184141895909376

TagValueNumbers - Part 19: https://../784188133361221632

TagValueNumbers - Part 20: https://../784202170246610944

TagValueNumbers - Part 21: https://../784217965143932928

TagValueNumbers - Part 22: https://../784268469561606145

TagValueNumbers - Part 23: PENDING™

⚠️ BE ADVISED - I CHANGED A FEW "IDS":

My pinky promises that I will not make this a regular thing. The "IDs" in red have been replaced by those in white. In the spreadsheet, the changed "IDs" are highlighted in GREEN.

@cazhan -- 203294262 ⚠️ 203294260

CCBriekel (Patreon) -- 203274353 ⚠️ 203227435

@eunosims -- 304866746 ⚠️ 305866746

@j3lly-fish -- 510355934 ⚠️ 510055934

@oito-cc -- 615486220 ⚠️ 615486000

P.peng (Patreon) -- 716736400 ⚠️ 716073640

@s-club-tbr (TSR) -- 719258200 ⚠️ 719025820

@sims3melancholic -- 719467363 ⚠️ 719467863

@strangestorytellersims -- 719872643 ⚠️ 719872678

@zx-ta -- 929908200 ⚠️ 926908200

—

—

⚠️ THIS POST IS STILL SUBJECT TO CHANGE:

Everything you need to know should be covered in this Tumblr OP and the Patreon OP, but I might do some spring cleaning when I'm done with the Patreon OP.

[penisbilt]

i think niyt wouldve been hopelessly dependent on the canned ravioli

[norrisainz33]

simp || cs55

summary: carlos has a massive crush on one of hollywoods it girls, y/n and he desperately wants her to notice him

pairing: carlos sainz x famous!reader

fc & warnings: madelyn cline and suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume

requested: yes! thank you for your patience!! i know this took forever

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by carlossainz55, yourbff, tatemcrae, adrianalima, lhughes_06, joeburrow, and 2,508,388 others

ynuser: can’t even tell i’m jet lagged to all heck right now thanks to my incredible team!! thanks for having me dior

view all comments

carlossainz55: jet lag has never looked better princessa

user1: how does this man always beat me here im

user2: when u show up to a who loves y/n most competition and this mf there

user55: its getting hard to make excuses for you carlos

user1: your hair omgggg you look so good

yourbff: no you're glowing

ynuser: thank you 🤍

user4: god i’m obsessed with you

joeburrow: 😍 [liked by ynuser]

yourcostar: ok i see you gorgeous girl

ynuser: i miss you

williamsracing has posted a video

liked by carlossainz55, lando, alex_albon, user55, robertomerhi, charlesleclerc, yourcostar, yourbff, and 658,234 others

williamsracing: they had a lot of fun with this quiz! check out the latest grid games with lia, carlos and alex!

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user2: carbonooooooooo

user4: i love that lia is here too omg

carlossainz55: ynuser shooting my shot 😌

user55: carlos go 1 minute without mentioning y/n challenge failed

user5: since my goat said to tag her ynuser hello did u see this

user55: god he’s down so bad ynuser please im begging

user43: ynuser carlos saved my cat from a burning building

user77: carlos built me a house ynuser

lando: ynuser hey

carlossainz55: my guy 😉

yourbff: lmaoooooooo ynuser you gotta put this man out of his misery

user55: EVERYONE STAY CALM CARLOS STAY CALM MY MAN DONT EMBARRASS US THIS IS HER BEST FRIEND

carlossainz55: yourbff ynsuer please

user4: god hes such a simp this is painful

user8: i love this trio sm

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liked by carlossainz55, williamsracing, lando, charlesleclerc, yourbff, yourcostar, tatemcrae, jackhughes, zendaya, doechii, and 3,294,228 others

yunser: fun in the sun ☀️🤍

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user1: you are the definition of beauty

carlossainz55: you should try the spanish sun. i think you’d have a lot of fun under it 😉

lando: not your best work mate

charlesleclerc: mon ami what was this line

lewishamilton: next time be less obvious

user55: not even the drivers can defend him anymore

user22: body is tea

zendaya: the prettiest lady 🤍

ynuser: daya 😭😭😭😭🤍🤍🤍🤍

user33: so you can paint now too?! what can’t you do

user44 the literal love of my life

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yourbff: Y E S! he is so fine it’s sickening

ynuser: he is really attractive……

yourbff: anyone with eyes can see that bb

ynuser: alright…… i’m gonna dm him

yourbff: YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS

yourcostar: i laughed out loud at this and then checked your posts and man is trying his hardest

ynuser: stoppppp 😭😭😭 he is committed and honestly i’m into it

zendaya: tom knows him!!! he’s a super nice guy. i say go for it

ynuser: if you and tom approve i’ll do it

zendaya: double date!!!!!

yourfriend1: DO IT FOR THE PLOT

ynuser: on it

yourfriend2: i have been begging you to get into f1 for years now

ynuser: you’re right…. my bad girl

ynuser has posted to their story

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user2: you’re doing just about anything but filming that new season huh

user55: no way. no way you’re in spain. oh my god this better be about carlos. i’m gonna crash all the way out

yourbff: OMG YOIRE WITH HIM!!! AGAIN?!?!?!

ynuser: i am!! having the best time with him 🥹 after our first date in monaco he convinced me to go to spain with him over his break from driving and it has been like a dream

yourbff: you have to facetime me later and spill the beans

ynuser: if i get any alone time i will 🤭

yourbff: are you….. staying in the same hotel room?! OMG DID THEY DO THE THING WHERE THEY GIVE YOU A HOTEL ROOM THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 2 BEDS BUT WAS ONLY 1?!

ynuser: AHAHHAH no i am NOT in a romance book tho it feels like it. we chose to get a hotel room with only one bed 😏

yourbff: i’m giggling, goofing , freaking out. how dare you not tell me this !!

ynuser: i promiseeee ill call tomorrow!!

yourbff: fineee enjoy your night of f*cking. you gotta tell me how he is 😉

ynuser: STOPSJDK

carlossainz55: i’m glad you love it mi amor 🥰

ynuser: might just be because i have the best tour guide ever

carlossainz55: that definitely helps i’m sure

user4: aesthetic af

charlesleclerc: thank GOD!

ynuser: it’s been a long time coming

charlesleclerc: you can say that again

user12: on god this better be about carlos sainz

carlossainz55 has posted a story

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ynupdates: is that blondie in the corner who i think it is you ain’t slick

user2: you’re my love

lando: you in amorrrrrrrrr?!

carlossainz55: yes 😍 she’s just as amazing as i imagined

lando: awooga that’s the best news ever

user4: i can’t wait for you to get back on track

alex_albon: are you having fun????

carlossainz55: so much fun…. some would say the most fun especially because she agreed to be my girlfriend 😉

alex_albon: thank GOD. george owes me £400

carlossainz55: que?

alex_albon: we took bets on if she’d fall for you or not. i said she would 😌

carlossainz55: i’m going to have to give george a call it seems. who else bet on this????

alex_albon: the whole group chat 😅

carlossainz55: give me a list of everyone who bet against me

carlossainz55: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ

carlossainz55: ALEXANDER ALBON

user55: you’re in barcelona. y/n is in barcelona…. she’s blonde… there’s a blonde in this photo that looks a lot like her….. did you do the unthinkable and get y/n to notice you?

user13: when you getting back in the car king

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liked by lando, williamsracing, charlesleclerc, yourbff, ynuser, georgerussell63, yourcostar, lewishamilton and 456,233 others

carlossainz55: you know what they say - pics or it didn’t happen

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user3: oh my god he’s done it

user55: THATS MY GOAT!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU

lando: i can’t believe my eyes

carlossainz55: me neither

williamsracing: so this is why you were in the best mood i’ve ever seen and asked for a paddock pass for every race for the foreseeable future

carlossainz55: 😌🤍

alex_albon: incredible work mate

user23: wondering what insane level of simp he’s gonna reach now that he’s bagged the baddie

charlesleclerc: you are welcome!

ynupdates: claiming credit i see charles

charlesleclerc: well i helped

ynuser: my friends did send me your tweets so really you both did this

carlossainz55: and i thank you both charlesleclerc ynupdates

user34: i just stood up and applauded

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes and reblogs appreciated. been very busy recently, hopefully will have some more time to writing soon!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[anisespice]

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?” 

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 

“Did he…say we were?” 

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[rmview]

accidentally leaking their relationship, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader  ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys end up leaking their relationship accidentally!

contents — crack, fluff, no warnings.

bang ♡ chan

bang chan was always meticulous about keeping your relationship under wraps. as the leader of stray kids, he knew how quickly rumors could spiral and wanted to protect you from unnecessary scrutiny. but even someone as careful as him could make a mistake.

it happened during one of his famous live broadcasts. chan was sitting in his studio, casually chatting with fans as he fiddled with some tracks on his computer. he was explaining his latest project when a notification popped up on his screen. without thinking, he clicked it, and for a brief second, a picture of the two of you appeared.

it wasn’t anything scandalous — just a selfie of you leaning against his shoulder, both of you smiling softly. but it was enough. the comments exploded almost instantly.

who was that??? is chan dating someone??? did i just see a girl??? that girl was me guys, chill

bang chan’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened. “oh, uh…” he scratched the back of his neck, trying to think fast. “that was… an old picture! a friend sent it to me earlier. sorry about that, everyone!”

he quickly ended the broadcast, his heart racing as he leaned back in his chair. a million thoughts ran through his head — had anyone managed to screenshot it? what would the company say? more importantly, what would you think?

when he called you later to explain, you laughed softly, though he could hear the worry in your voice. “it’s okay, chan. it was bound to happen at some point.”

“no, it’s not okay,” he insisted. “i promised to keep this private for your sake, and i slipped up.”

“you’re human,” you reassured him. “and besides, we’ll handle whatever happens together, right?”

hearing your calm voice eased some of his guilt. “yeah, together,” he said softly. “but i’m still going to be extra careful from now on.”

felix ♡

felix adored you, and while he was determined to keep your relationship private, he sometimes let his excitement get the best of him.

the leak happened when felix was baking cookies during a live broadcast. fans loved his warm, cozy streams, and he often shared stories and tips while he worked. as he was mixing dough, his phone lit up with a message from you. without thinking, he glanced at it and smiled.

“sorry, guys,” he said, holding up the phone. “just got a cute message from…” he froze, realizing what he’d just said, gaze falling to the chat that erupted with curiosity.

from who??? felix, are you hiding something??? who’s the cute message from???

felix’s face turned beet red as he stammered, “uh, from my… my friend! yeah, just a good friend.” he laughed nervously, quickly changing the subject to the cookies.

after the stream, he called you in a panic. “i think i messed up,” he admitted, pacing his room. “i almost said too much!”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “relax, lix. it’s not the end of the world.”

“but i want to protect you from all this,” he said, his voice laced with guilt. “i don’t want you dragged into the spotlight because of me.”

“felix,” you said softly, “i know you’ll do your best. and no matter what happens, i’m not going anywhere.”

his heart melted at your reassurance. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured. “but i’ll be more careful. promise.”

lee ♡ know

lee know was famously private, so the idea of accidentally exposing your relationship was something he had nightmares about. he was cautious, always double-checking everything he posted and keeping personal moments strictly offline.

the slip-up came during a group photoshoot. the boys were filming behind-the-scenes content for fans, and lee know had forgotten that he’d left your bracelet on his wrist. it was subtle — a simple silver band engraved with your initials — but eagle-eyed fans didn’t miss a thing. as the content was uploaded online, surprised comments flooded in.

is that… a couple bracelet??? whose initials are those? lee know, explain yourself!!!!

when he saw the comments later, lee know’s heart sank. he immediately called his manager, working out a way to downplay the situation. “it’s just a gift from a close friend,” he said during a live broadcast, keeping his tone neutral.

later that night, he came over to your place, still visibly upset. “i’m sorry,” he said as soon as you opened the door.

you tilted your head, confused. “for what?”

“for being careless,” he said, holding up his wrist. “i should’ve taken it off before the shoot.”

you smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “minho, it’s okay. it’s just a bracelet. and honestly, i’m kind of proud they noticed — i like seeing you wear it.”

his lips twitched into a small smile. “you’re too understanding.”

“i trust you,” you said simply. “and no matter what happens, i’m not worried.”

lee know wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. “i’ll be more careful next time. but i’m glad you’re not mad.”

“i could never be mad at you,” you teased, making him chuckle softly.

hyun ♡ jin

hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, and his love for you was something he carried with him everywhere. he was cautious about keeping your relationship private but couldn’t help tiny, subtle slips — moments where his affection for you shone through.

the leak happened during a spontaneous live broadcast. hyunjin was lounging on the couch, answering fans’ questions, when someone asked about the small ring on his pinky finger. without thinking, he smiled.

“oh, this?” he held it up, admiring the simple band. “it’s, uh… special to me.”

the chat exploded:

special? like… how??? hyunjin, tell us the truth!!! guys chill that was my anniversary present to him

realizing what he’d done, his eyes widened slightly, and he quickly tried to play it off. “it’s just a good luck charm,” he said with a nervous laugh, switching topics to his latest dance project.

after the live ended, hyunjin flopped onto the couch, groaning into a cushion. he called you immediately, his voice full of guilt. “i messed up. they noticed the ring, and i think they know it’s from you.”

you laughed softly on the other end of the line. “hyunjin, it’s not a big deal. they don’t know for sure.”

“but i feel like i betrayed your trust,” he said, sitting up. “i promised to be careful, and now people might start guessing things.”

“hyunjin,” you said gently, “you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. we’ll handle it together, okay?”

hearing your reassurance made him feel a little better. “i’m so lucky to have you,” he murmured. “but i’ll be more careful — i don’t want anything to put you in a tough spot.”

jeong ♡ in

jeongin was naturally shy, and dating you was something he kept close to his heart. he wanted to protect your privacy, knowing how overwhelming things could get if the public found out. but even he wasn’t immune to slip-ups.

it happened during a group photoshoot. as the members joked around, jeongin absentmindedly pulled out his phone to check a message from you. a staff member teasingly asked, “who’s got your attention so much, innie?”

without thinking, jeongin blushed and muttered, “just my —” he caught himself, but the damage was done. his hyungs immediately caught on, and a few snickered. “your what, jeongin?”

the teasing moment was captured on camera and uploaded to a behind-the-scenes video. fans were quick to pick up on his slip, speculating about who he might be texting.

jeongin panicked when he saw the comments later. “they’re going to figure it out,” he fretted, pacing his room as he called you.

you tried to calm him down. “jeongin, it’s fine. people speculate all the time — it doesn’t mean they know anything for sure.”

“but what if they do?” he asked, his voice small. “i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

you smiled softly, even though he couldn’t see it. “i trust you, and i’m not worried. just be yourself, okay? you don’t have to carry this alone.”

his heart swelled at your words. “you’re too good to me,” he said quietly. “i’ll do better — i promise.”

han ♡

han tried to keep your relationship private, but his naturally playful and forgetful nature meant he occasionally slipped up. one of those moments came when he was recording behind-the-scenes content for a vlog.

as he was showing off his desk setup in the dorm, the camera accidentally panned over a sticky note on the wall that read, “love you, idiot - y/n.” fans immediately paused and zoomed in, and the comment section blew up.

who’s y/n??? han has a girlfriend??? explain yourself to our kids, han jisung!!!

han didn’t notice the uproar until much later, when staff informed him about the growing buzz online. his first reaction was pure panic. “what? how did they see that?!”

he went back to the dorm and immediately called you. “i think i messed up big time,” he admitted, pacing nervously. “your name showed up in the vlog, and people are already talking about it.”

you chuckled softly, though you could tell he was freaking out. “jisung, it’s okay. it’s not like they know anything else.”

“but they’ll start digging,” he groaned. “what if they find out more? i hate the thought of you being dragged into this.”

“hey,” you said gently, “we’ll figure it out. i’m not mad, and i trust you to handle it.”

he sighed, sitting down on his bed. “you’re way too understanding, you know that? i’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. you deserve better than this kind of stress.”

hearing the guilt in his voice, you reassured him once more. “i’m not worried, jisung. just promise me you’ll stop beating yourself up about it.”

he smiled, feeling a little better. “promise. i’ll be more careful — for you.”

seung ♡ min

seungmin was always composed and cautious, but even he wasn’t immune to the occasional slip-up. he valued your privacy deeply and did his best to ensure your relationship stayed out of the public eye. however, the unthinkable happened during a live broadcast with the group.

the members were joking around when a fan asked who among them was most romantic. changbin teasingly pointed to seungmin, and someone else chimed in, “yeah, seungmin’s probably the type to write love letters.”

seungmin, caught off guard, laughed and muttered, “well, y/n likes —” he froze mid-sentence, realizing what he’d just said. the room fell silent for a beat before the other members burst out laughing to cover for him.

“who’s y/n, seungmin?” hyunjin teased, but seungmin waved it off, cheeks flushed. “no one! i meant, uh, someone i know…” he mumbled, quickly redirecting the conversation.

after the broadcast ended, seungmin rushed to call you. “i slipped up,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “i said your name. people might connect the dots.”

you chuckled, trying to calm him down. “seungmin, it’s okay. it was an honest mistake.”

“but i promised to protect your privacy,” he argued, guilt evident in his tone. “i don’t want this to affect you.”

“seungmin,” you reassured him, “you’re overthinking it. it’s not like they have any proof. let’s not stress over something we can’t change.”

he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “you’re always so calm about these things. i don’t deserve you.”

“you’re doing your best,” you said softly. “and that’s more than enough for me.”

seungmin smiled, feeling the tension in his chest ease. “i’ll be more careful from now on. you mean too much to me to let this happen again.”

chang ♡ bin

changbin had always been an affectionate boyfriend, often expressing his love through sweet words and gestures. however, his bubbly personality and tendency to speak without thinking occasionally got him into trouble.

the slip happened during a studio vlog. changbin was casually showing off his recording setup when his phone lit up with a notification. the camera caught the preview of your text, which read: “don’t work too hard today, okay? love you 💕”

he didn’t realize it at first, but eagle-eyed fans did. within minutes of the vlog’s release, screenshots flooded social media, sparking speculation about who the message was from.

when changbin finally saw the comments, his heart sank. “oh no,” he muttered, replaying the clip and realizing what had happened.

he immediately called you, his voice a mix of guilt and worry. “i messed up, babe. your message showed up in the vlog, and fans are already talking about it.”

you were silent for a moment before laughing softly. “changbin, it’s okay. these things happen.”

“but i should’ve been more careful,” he argued, pacing his studio. “i don’t want you to deal with any negativity because of me.”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, “i’m not upset, and i’m not worried. if anything, it’s kind of sweet — they saw how much you care about me.”

her words made his chest tighten with affection. “you’re way too understanding,” he said, his voice softening. “but i’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. you don’t deserve to deal with any stress because of me.”

“you’re overthinking it,” you teased. “but if it makes you feel better, i trust you to be careful next time.”

changbin smiled, his heart feeling lighter. “thank you for being so amazing. i’ll make it up to you — i promise.”

notes: hope you guys enjoyed reading this because i enjoyed writing it a little too much xD