#so you go and lock yourself in a library and get possessed by your mom

[talariee]

Varian's silly little possession arc

[kpop-stories-21]

Restricted Section | An Unexpected End

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres + AUs: Non-Idol AU, Demon AU, Smut

Content & Trigger Warnings: Demon!Hongjoong, Human!Reader, mind manipulation(no dub con, I promise), shapeshifting, frightening imagery, mind breaking, bribery, rough sex, pain kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), soul trapping, reader has those babies Hwa put in her and it's very emotional

Summary: With the last key now in your possession, you can finally enter the restricted section and see if there really is a treasure. But what you find inside makes you wonder if you might've bitten off more than you can chew.

General Tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @skeletor-ify @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @liliesofdreamsskz @rdiamond2727 @naturalogre @thelargefrye @yoonguurt @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @sanjoongie @bxffietheblxxdy @scuzmunkie ATEEZ tags: @deltamoon666 @lovelyhange

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Network pings: @cacaokpop-fics | @kdiarynet

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Event Masterlist || Main Masterlist

When you awoke, you were alone in Seonghwa's room. The pink-haired Eldritch being was nowhere to be seen, the only indication you had even encountered him was the large key clutched in your hand. A part of you wanted to go look for him, but you held yourself back. You were so close now, all you had to do was unlock the Restricted Section, claim the treasure and you would be able to care for your mom like you'd always wanted.

Upon returning to the main floor of the Library you found an old, battered door set in the wall across from the front desk. An intricate metal lock was set into the door in an "X" shape, with three normal-sized keyholes on each branch and a large one in the middle.

"Now I know that wasn't there before." You said to yourself. "This must be the door to the Restricted Section."

Emptying your pockets onto a nearby chair, you examined the lock to see if there were any indications that you had to put each key in a certain slot.

Sure enough, there was a small symbol above each keyhole except the centre one, but that one was kinda obvious.

The first one you looked at had a spear symbol. It had to be History, so you grabbed San's key and slotted it in. It turned, then clicked. You smiled happily and moved on to the next one.

It only took a few minutes for you to insert all the Guardians' keys, leaving you with Seonghwa's Master Key. Inhaling deeply, you put it in and turned it. There was a loud, audible click! and the door swung inward on creaking hinges.

A draft of icy cold air rushed up to greet you as you nervously eyed the darkness that engulfed the stairs. As you were about to begin your descent, you felt a strange sensation in your stomach and looked down.

To your utter surprise you found that your belly was extremely round and swollen, giving you the appearance of being pregnant and ready to go into labour at any moment. How is this happening? Surely I wasn't asleep that long. You wondered helplessly. Or do the offspring of cosmic entities just develop impossibly fast?

All you knew right now was that you couldn't go into that terrifying darkness and whatever it might be hiding when you suddenly felt like you were about to pop.

At this point you were heavily considering looking for Seonghwa, but there was so much of the Library you hadn't explored yet that you feared getting lost.

A gush of warm liquid soaked your pants and you felt a sharp pain through your midsection. The little ones inside you moved about excitedly, as if overjoyed to finally escape their confines.

Your mind whirled frantically, trying to figure out where you could go to be as comfortable as possible. The only place you could think of was the sofa in the Guardians area, the one Seonghwa had put you on while you were encountering Wooyoung.

Stumbling back through the familiar double doors you made a beeline for the sofa, lowering yourself onto it and heaving a sigh of relief when the strain on your back eased.

Letting out a cry as a bolt of pain seared through you, you wished desperately that Seonghwa would hear you and come running to help. But now matter how many times you screamed in agony or called his name, he never showed.

After what seemed like forever, you felt pressure against your entrance and instinct took over as you began to push.

Hours later you collapsed back on the sofa, exhausted to no end after having given birth to five tentacled babies. You wanted to reach down and hold them close, but you were so worn out that you couldn't find the energy to even lean forward. Darkness took hold of you and your head slumped forward as you passed out.

When you returned to consciousness, the room was silent. Had the babies gone to sleep? Pushing yourself into a sitting position, an alarmed cry left your lips as you glanced down and found that all five little ones had disappeared.

You leapt to your feet, intending to go search for them, when you remembered the Restricted Section. Torn, you chose to trust that Seonghwa had taken the babies and returned to stare once more at the dark void that awaited you.

A flashlight had been placed in a chair close by, and you took it gratefully. A deep breath in, and you began your descent.

As soon as you stepped off the stairs, whispers began to echo around you. You didn't recognize the voice, but its deep and rumbling tone put you on edge. Before you stretched a long, yawning tunnel that extended as far back as you could see. More determined than ever to finish what you'd started, you moved forward.

The further down the tunnel you went, the louder the whispers grew. Before long they became cacophonous and you dropped the flashlight in order to cover your ears with your hands.

Plunged into total darkness, you felt a chill creep up your spine. Something brushed against your left arm and you jolted, hands falling from your ears as you realised the whispers had stopped.

A dark chuckle dripping with malice echoed from directly in front of you and you looked up, eyes scanning your surroundings as you retrieved your flashlight.

You let out a scream at the sight before you, stumbling backwards to create as much distance as possible. The blanketing darkness evaporated, and you saw a treasure chest chained to a pedestal. But it was what guarded the chest that terrified you so.

The creature that stood there was only a few inches taller than you, with the general figure of a humanoid male. Long ebony horns grew up out of his ash blonde hair, curling gracefully around his head with the points almost meeting at the back. One eye glowed crimson with a slit pupil while the other was bright gold and bore a pentagram pattern. His curved black nails ended in sharp points, looking more like claws than actual fingernails.

"Wh-What are you?" You called out, clenching your fists to quell their shaking.

The creature chuckled derisively. "Well I should think that would be obvious. But since you seem to be at a loss for words, I'll just tell you. Don't expect it to happen a second time, though."

The creature bowed smoothly, eyeing you with a crooked smirk as he introduced himself. "The name's Hongjoong, and I'm one of the most powerful demons in existence."

A sliver of confidence poked its head out, and words were leaving your mouth before you could process them.

"How come you're not out causing mayhem then? Surely you can't be that powerful if you've been trapped here."

Anger flitted across Hongjoong's face and he snarled, stalking towards you rapidly. Mentally facepalming yourself for being so dumb, you backed away until you hit a wall and could go no further.

"Just because I can be trapped doesn't mean I have no power, mortal." He spat, face hovering mere inches from your own. "The only reason the Guardians and the Keeper are still here is because I am keeping them here."

Shit, just what have I gotten myself into?

"I-I apologize for angering you. I only wish to take the treasure and leave."

At this Hongjoong laughed loudly. "You still haven't figured it out, have you?"

The hope in your heart faded some as you stared at him in confusion. "What do you m-mean?"

"Silly little Y/N. I was hoping you'd be smarter this time around."

Finally it dawned on you what he was trying to say. "There isn't any treasure, is there?"

"Ding, ding, ding! Give the lady a prize!"

"Then if there's no treasure, why am I even here? Do you enjoy leading people on?"

Hongjoong's grin turned menacing. "No, not all people. Just you, my little dove."

You froze in place, eyes wide at the words you'd only ever heard from your mom. "H-How…"

"You don't remember? I was the one who gave you that nickname after all. But that is not important right now."

As he spoke the room was plunged into darkness again, and everything around you went quiet. You looked around nervously, even though you couldn't see anything.

"H-Hello? Is anyone there?"

Movement off to your right. You whirled, still seeing nothing but blackness. Then a light flicked on and you saw a door in the wall. From behind it you could hear a faint voice that sounded like your mother. Against your better judgment, you went towards the door and cautiously pushed it open.

Bright light flooded your vision and you blinked rapidly until your eyes adjusted. You were in…your childhood bedroom? You hadn't lived at home in years, what were you doing here?

"Y/N, your boyfriend is here!" Your mom called through the closed door. "Come entertain him while I finish dinner."

Boyfriend? You didn't remember bringing over anyone before your mom got sick. You'd always been more focused on studying than messing around with guys.

What the hell is going on here?

Unnerved, you stepped out into the hallway of your family home and made your way downstairs to the front door. Opening it revealed a face you couldn't bring to mind, yet felt you should know. All that came to mind was that his name was Kim Hongjoong and he was your boyfriend.

"Hey Y/N, I missed you." He hugged you warmly, his usual fresh cotton scent washing over you and calming your jittery nerves. You hugged him back.

"You saw me three hours ago, what do you mean?!"

You teased, giggling as he stepped back and allowed you to lead him inside.

"What can I say? Three hours is like an eternity when you're not with me."

"Oh, shush. It can't be that bad." You grinned. Hongjoong just shook his head as the two of you entered the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Mom said dinner should be ready soon, so we can just hang out here until she calls for us."

"That sounds lovely, my little dove."

You jerk, body going rigid. Something about that pet name doesn't sit well with you.

"Only mom calls me that." You force out, throat closing as if some unseen force was trying to shut you up. "You…don't get…to call…me…that…you demon!"

A growl came from the man beside you, demonic features springing into view. At the sight of him your memories came rushing back and you scrambled to your feet, hurrying to get as far away from him as you could.

"Stay away from me, you monster!" You yelled, shielding your body and squeezing your eyes shut.

"Y/N, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

Your mom's voice pulled you out of it and you looked around, heart pounding wildly.

"Wh-Where is Hongjoong?"

"He couldn't make it for dinner today, remember sweetie? He had pressing business at the college."

"Oh." Is all you could manage as your mom ushered you to sit at the dining table.

Two plates rested on the polished surface, hidden under silver covers. Something about it had dread rising in your stomach as you eyed the hidden meal before you.

"Dig in, dearie. It'll get cold otherwise."

Swallowing, you slowly reached out and touched the cover's handle. Pain seared your fingers, and panic began to claw up your throat when you realized they were stuck to the handle.

"What's wrong, little dove?" Your mom's voice began to pitch deeper with every word, her skin shriveling and peeling off her body. "Not hungry? Oh that's too bad. You've not had a meal in years, you really should eat something."

The image of your mother flaked away, revealing a maniacal-looking Hongjoong whose grin looked insane and too wide for his face. A red light flared up behind him, casting a bloody sheen over everything and making Hongjoong look truly demonic.

Terror filled you and you let go of the plate cover, fingers no longer stuck. Backing away again, you felt tears fill your eyes as he stood and slowly walked towards you.

"What do you want from me?!" You screamed, vision blurring as tears continued to flow.

Hongjoong's laugh echoed eerily through the room, which was rapidly growing dark once more.

Instead of answering, he spoke as if he hadn't even heard you. "You know, one thing Seonghwa failed to mention is that time flows differently here in the Library. In here, it's only been a few days. But I can see what goes on everywhere and outside, in the real world, it's been years. Your mom's not even alive anymore. She died alone and afraid, thinking that even her own daughter abandoned her in the end. You've lost the only reason you came here, so what will you do now?"

It was like a switch suddenly flipped in your head at his words. All the pain, the grief, and the torment suddenly cut off, as if a door had been shut. Your mind was empty, as blank as a fresh canvas.

Noting the vacant look in your eyes, Hongjoong chuckled. "Oops, I think I broke her."

"What do you want?" The words were flat, leaving your lips without tone or inflection.

Hongjoong's grin widened impossibly.

"That's quite simple, really. All I want is you. I hate seeing you in torment like this, and I can make it stop for a bit. All I ask is that you let me give a sampling of what I can do for you. Let me help you feel again, and after that, you get to choose what happens."

"Alright." You agreed numbly.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you and the aroma of cotton laced with sulfur filled your senses. The heady scent invoked a sense of calmness and security you hadn't felt since your mom got sick. Your body relaxed into the demon's side, bringing a more genuine smile to his face.

He snapped his fingers and the room changed. You found yourself in an extravagant bedroom, rich colours and opulence everywhere you looked. The walls were papered in a floral pattern of red and gold, the floor covered in thick red carpet. A large four-poster bed took up most of the space, with sheets and bed curtains made of red velvet and gold brocade.

Hongjoong lifted you onto the bed and climbed up beside you. "This is gonna feel so good, Y/N, I promise. I just have one question for you: am I allowed to go rough?"

You nodded almost frantically. "Please, I-I want to feel something!"

Hongjoong smirked delightedly. "As you wish, my beloved."

Gently he removed first your clothing, then his own. His lips wrapped you up in a wild kiss and heat flooded through your body, searing your skin to the bedsheets.

Warm hands roamed your body, long nails gently scraping in the best of ways. He broke the kiss to latch onto one of your nipples, nibbling and sucking while his hands slid ever lower.

Two fingers prodded at your folds, careful not to stab as they searched for your g-spot, a low moan letting Hongjoong know when he found it. A third, then a fourth finger slipped in, stretching you out deliciously.

"Mmh, Hongjoong please-" you begged, needing to feel him, to feel…anything, honestly.

"Very well, beloved. Just tell me if you wish me to stop."

Without any further warning the demon slammed into you, filling you up in one swift motion that had you seeing stars.

"Oh god, fuck y-yes, just like that!"

The pace Hongjoong set was brutal, pounding into you so hard you weren't sure if you were moaning from the pain, the pleasure, or both.

"Fuck Y/N, you're so damn tight. Wouldn't believe what all you'd taken in that slutty little cunt of yours if I didn't know better."

His nails scratched over your ribs, leaving behind red lines and ripping a moan from you that had him eyeing you in surprise.

"Liked that, did you? You want to feel a little pain?"

"Yes please, H-Hongjoong! Make it hurt, I need to feel something!"

Hongjoong went mind-bendingly fast, bed banging against the wall with every move. His nails dug into your hips, leaving pinpricks of pain that welled with drops of crimson.

"Ah, shit, gonna fuck you full of my cum Y/N. Make you feel everything, every single part of me, and all the bliss that comes with it."

His words burned a coil in your belly that stretched tighter and tighter until you felt ready to explode.

"I'm, I'm gonna-"

"I got you, Y/N, you can let go. Cum with me!"

He thrusted into you one more time, burying himself deep inside, screams of Hongjoong's name flying from your throat as both of you fell over the edge together.

After cleaning up the two of you lay on the bed, panting. Hongjoong turned to you with a smile, horns ripping little holes in the sheets he did so.

"How are you? Feel anything yet, my little dove?"

Pain. A sharp pounding in your head as all the emotions locked away suddenly poured forth, filling you with grief, anger, and fear.

Nearly falling off the bed in your haste, you pulled your clothes back on, backing away from Hongjoong for a third time.

"Why are you doing this? What do you gain from tormenting me like this?"

Hongjoong sighed, expression a mixture of annoyance and resignation.

"Don't you remember Y/N? Think hard, really hard. It's in there somewhere!"

Taking a deep breath, you racked your brain, wading through clouds of fog hovering in your mind. A few good pushes, and a gasp left you as all the suppressed memories came rushing back.

The first time you came to the Library was many lifetimes ago. Back then, it was an actual library, housing all manner of magical texts and other supernatural objects. It was known that the Library was owned by a demon named Hongjoong, and that all his employees were also supernatural beings.

You were the daughter of a simple village witch, looking for a way to bring back a beloved sibling taken too soon. You'd heard the Library had a little of everything, surely there was a book detailing a ritual for bringing back the dead that didn't have dire consequences.

For the next several months you went there each day, searching every book on every shelf. Over time the desk clerk, a kind being named Seonghwa, fell for you and began aiding your search almost to the exclusion of his other duties.

However, Hongjoong had been watching you from afar and also fell for you. When he saw Seonghwa's affections change toward you and that you returned those affections, he became jealous and angry. He used his powers to curse you and everyone in the Library, even the building itself.

He created a loop, a cycle of death and rebirth that would pull you in over and over. He would send out rumours about a treasure in the library to draw you in and then run you through various "trials" to wear down your defenses. At the end he would give you a taste of being with him and ask you to choose. If you didn't choose him, he would take your soul and the cycle would begin anew. He and all the beings who worked in the Library would be trapped within the building, untouched by time, until the day you finally chose him over Seonghwa.

Staggered by the things you now remembered, you gasped at him in horror.

"You think, with all things I remember now, that I'm somehow going to magically change my fucking mind?"

You glared at him in fury, fists clenched tightly.

"Seonghwa was nicer to me than you ever were. Hell, I barely saw you enough to even know if you could be nice to me! I will pick him over you every time, and no mind game of yours will change that."

Hongjoong's face darkened and a snarl twisted his lips.

"Very well then."

A beam of red fire shot from his clawed hand to bury into your chest with a bright bolt of pain. You fell to your knees, screaming in agony as a sensation akin to your insides being pulled out spread through your body.

The red beam slowly retracted, pulling with it a thin strand of white that felt very much like a part of you. When the beam fully returned to Hongjoong, he tenderly wound the white strand around his fingers.

"It's always so pretty, your soul. No matter how many times I take it, it always fascinates me how pure your core is."

He leaned over, watching as you gasped for breath. Your body was growing transparent, fading away without a soul to ground it.

"No matter how many times you die Y/N, no matter how many times you're reincarnated, you will always come back here. Perhaps one day you will see the light and end this cycle of pain, but until then, I bid you farewell."

His features were lit with devilish glee as watched the last bits of you fade away.

"See you soon, my little dove."

[sg-marshall]

sims 4 trait legacy challenge

Overview:

This is a ten generation legacy challenge based on some characteristics people can possess. Each generation will be based upon a new trait. The style and gender of the generation is completely up to you (I usually play as women but gender does not matter in this challenge)! Complete all goals before focusing on the next generation. Some may play onto each other, so be sure to look ahead before moving forward! I created an adapted version for people who do not have the packs I used listed below the challenge. I wanted to make sure everyone could play and not feel left out!

Rules:

No cheats or mods!

Start off with $20,000 and a build a house wherever you want one.

Complete all six goals for every generation before moving onto the next one.

Complete the full aspiration and reach level 10 in the set career.

There is no rules when it comes to aging up but I suggest waiting until it is their set birthday.

Play on normal life span.

Packs Used: Base Game, Discovery University, Seasons, City Living, Get to Work, Cats and Dogs, Parenthood, Spa Day, and Knifty Knitting

Generation One: Responsibility

You are a very old fashioned person who believes things have a certain way of being done. Every object in your house has a set place, the person you marry you are supposed to stay with forever, and the world should be a clean place to live in. Never once have you strayed away from your beliefs and you’ve always lived your life by the book. Even once your partner dies and you are left with a child who cannot handle their passing, you stay true to your morals. (EDIT: I have been playing this challenge myself and found that the final level of the aspiration said “have a child master a career”. I do not know if you have to be in the household for that, but if you do, just add this generation to the household of the next one before they master it. It is also okay if you want to ignore/cheat this part.)

Traits: Neat, Good, Green Fiend

Aspiration: Successful Lineage

Career: Education (Administrator Branch)

Goals:

Max charisma skill.

Max research and debate skill.

Be married as a young adult, but have your partner die (do not tell your child how) once they reach adult hood. Never remarry.

Have only one child with your partner.

Complete the snowglobes collection and have them set up in a specific room in your house.

Make your neighborhood green and keep it that way.

Generation Two: Determined

You’ve always struggled to cope with the death of your father/mother ever. Maybe that's because you never really knew why they died in the first place. Left with too many questions to handle, you destroy your relationship with your friends and family and run away to find some answers. This entails a trip to Sixam, where you can finally wrap ahead around the passing of you mom/dad. You decide to come home just in time to see your mom/dad just before they too pass away. After a heart-breaking conversation, you realize that all the secrecy was for the best.

Traits: Gloomy, Ambitious, Loner

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Career: Astronaut (Interstellar Smuggler Branch)

Goals:

Max rocket science skill.

Max mischief skill.

Build a rocket ship and fly to Sixam.

Run away and live on your own as a teenager. 

Have a horrible relationship with your mom/dad as a young adult, but become best friends with them before they pass away.

Complete the microscope prints collection.

Generation Three: Loving

Your mother/father was extremely distant growing up, which caused you to rely on friends as your family. Your childhood best friend has been with you every step of the way, and you ended up fell in love with them. All you wanted to do was be a mother/father, but found out you could never have children. You adopt a child as a baby and raise them as your own, teaching them everything you wish your parents did for you.

Traits: Romantic, Family - Oriented, Foodie

Aspiration: Soulmate

Career: Babysitter (Teenager), None (Young Adult and older)

Goals:

Max parenting skill.

Max wellness skill.

Marry your childhood best friend.

Adopt a baby after you get married.

Teach your toddler to max all skills.

Have a side passion of knitting.

Generation Four: Intelligence

You grew up incredibly smart with no knowledge of who your real parents were. However, that never mattered to you. Your adoptive parents have made it their life goal to advance your gifts in every way they know how. Late nights of helping you with homework, early mornings of finishing projects, and spending their fortunes to enroll you into the college of your dreams. All you wanted to do was repay them by becoming a world renowned journalist. You dedicate your best-sellers to them because, after all, they’ll always be your biggest fan.

Traits: Genius, Bookworm, Unflirty

Aspiration: Academic

Career: Writer (Journalist Branch)

Goals:

Max logic skill.

Max writing skill. 

Reach level eight in five other skills of your choice.

Go to the University of  Britechester and study Language and Literature (distinguished).

Join the Debate Guild and reach the highest rank.

Write five novels.

Generation Five: Hard - Working

Fashion has been your passion since you were a little girl/boy. You even asked your parents to stop dressing you as a toddler because the clothes they picked were “not stylish enough.” As a self-proclaimed style icon, you knew you had to make your biggest dream come true: to create your own fashion line. So, as soon as you graduated high school, you packed your bags and moved to the big city - San-Myshuno. There you created your social media platform and blew up! A normal life was never your style, and you made sure to put in as many hours as it would take to achieve all you ever wanted.

Traits: Perfectionist, Self - Assured, Materialistic

Aspiration: City Native

Career: Style Influencer (Stylist Branch)

Goals:

Max photography skill.

Max painting skill.

Must live in San-Myshuno.

Complete the crystals collection.

Hire a nanny for your child and do not spend much time with them.

Gain 10,000 followers on Simstagram.

Generation Six: Resilience

After being known as “the child of the most famous fashion designer” all your life, the city became a toxic place for you. You hated the loud noises, constant stream of people, and just wanted to live a quiet life. You loved visiting your grandmother/father’s house and hearing one of her/his famous stories. You decided to pull inspiration from one of their novels and live off by the coast in the adorable Brindleton Bay. Your passion for crafting and living off the land inspired you to start a small business selling your candles and juice - all locally grown of course. 

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Maker, Creative

Aspiration: Master Maker

Career: Freelancer (Simply Crafted)

Goals:

Max fabrication skill.

Reach level eight in both candle making and juice fizzing.

Move to Brindleton Bay as a young adult.

Have four or more kids.

Complete the frog collection.

Never go to an event in the city or visit the city once you are a young adult.

Generation Seven: Carefree

Being in a big family is can be hectic at times. So, you decided to be the happy jokester in the middle just trying to get people to crack a smile. And you got really good at it. As a major people person, you made sure to get to know everyone you meet. You even started a tradition of taking a picture with them so you could never forget that moment. Your friends will always invite you to go out because you are known for being the life of the party. However, the parties you host, are even better. You decide to live life as if it was one big stage, and you’re the star performer.

Traits: Goofball, Clumsy, Outgoing

Aspiration: Party Animal

Career: Entertainer (Comedian Branch)

Goals:

Max comedy skill.

Max singing skill.

Host a party every week.

Take a photo of every person who visits you.

Marry someone you met just two days before.

Attend every festival or event you are asked to attend.

Generation Eight: Kind

Expected to be just like your mother/father, no one ever assumed you would be the quiet kid who preferred reading over partied. However, that is exactly who you were. When it was that time of the week for a new social event, you either left for the library or locked yourself in your room, praying it ended soon. Your parents noticed you struggled talking to people, so they allowed you to adopt a puppy once you became a teenager. You and your dog instantly became best friends and you took them everywhere. Even though you may not be great with people, being compassionate was a skill you ranked high in. You always looked out for the less fortunate and wanted to provide in anyway you could.

Traits: Vegetarian, Loner, Good

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals

Career: Gardner (Floral Designer Branch)

Goals:

Max gardening skill.

Max flower arranging skill.

Keep up a garden of just flowers.

Adopt strays: one dog, and two cats.

Marry an ambitious sim.

Donate $100 to charity weekly.

Generation Nine: Impulsive

You grew up hearing stories of your grandmother/father’s so called “wild days” and fell in love with the energy it brought. However, your mom/dad raised you better than to go out spending life as if there was no consequences. Finding a balance started off to be very challenging for you. You could never hold down relationships and even got pregnant/got someone pregnant twice. It wasn't until you became a secret agent and learned how to live two lifestyles: one full of fun and adventure; the other more stable and structured.

Traits: Active, Non-Committal, Bro

Aspiration: Bodybuilder

Career: Secret Agent (Diamond Agent Branch)

Goals:

Max fitness skill.

Max handiness skill.

Go to either college for Psychology and play soccer.

Have four failed relationships and never get married.

Have two children from two different relationships.

Move three times once you become a young adult.

Generation 10: Passionate

Because your mother/father’s job required you to move around so much, making real life friends was a lot harder than it seemed. So, you built your relationships within the online community. Every day, you and your closest friends would hop online and compete in tournaments or even play for fun. As the years went on, you became really good at coding and even started working on your own apps. You looked up to the players from ESports Gaming - only the best gamers in the world - and longed to be sitting in one of their spots. And sure enough, after years of perfecting your strategies and game plays, your dreams came true!

Traits: Geek, Hot-Headed, Outgoing

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru (ESport Gamer Branch)

Goals:

Max programming skill.

Max video gaming skill.

Complete the MySims Trophies collection.

Attend and compete in every Geek Con convention.

Make five video games or apps.

Mentor your child/ren for five hours each.

Adaptations:

Gen 1:

If you do not have Discover University, go into the Business career (Management Branch).

Max cooking skill if you do not have Discover University.

If you do not have City Living, complete the postcards collection.

Gen 2:

Unlock the secret world in Oasis Springs if you do not have Get to Work.

Gen 3:

If you do not have Parenthood but do have Get to Work, max the baking skill.

If you do not have both Parenthood and Get to Work, max the gourmet cooking skill.

If you do not have Spa Day but do have Knifty Knitting, max the knitting skill.

If you do not have both Spa Day or Knifty Knitting, max the photography skill.

If you do not have Knifty Knitting, have a side passion of photography.

Gen 4:

If you do not have Discover University, read a new skill book every week instead of attending university.

Gen 5:

If you do not have City Living, have the  Fabulously Wealthy aspiration.

If you do not have City Living, live in Oasis Springs.

Gen 6:

Do not have a career if you do not have Eco-Lifestyle. Instead, craft item on the woodworking for money.

If you do not have Eco-Lifestyle, max the fishing skill instead of reaching level eight in candle making and juice fizzing.

If you do not have Cats and Dogs, move to Evergreen Harbor.

If you do not have both Cats and Dogs or Eco-Lifestyle, live in Willow Creek

If you do not have Eco-Lifestyle, have the self-assured trait instead.

If you do not have Eco-Lifestyle, have the Angling Ace aspiration.

Gen 7:

If you do not have City Living but do have Get Together, max the dancing skill.

If you do not have both City Living or Get Together, max the mixology skill.

Gen 8:

If you do not have Dogs and Cats, have the Freelance Botanist aspiration.

Do not have a career if you do not have Seasons. Instead, sell your plants for money.

If you do not have Seasons but have Get to Work, max the baking skill.

If you do not have both Seasons or Get to Work, max the violin skill.

If you do not have Dogs and Cats, but have Seasons, own three bees nests and two insect nests instead of owning pets.

If you do not have both Dogs and Cats or Seasons, have three children instead of having three pets.

If you do not have City Living, have the cheerful trait.

Gen 9:

If you do have Strangerville, go into the Military Career (I do not have it, so I played as a Secret Agent)

If you do have Snowy Escape, have the adventurous trait instead of the active trait (I do not have it but believe they would be adventurous).

If you do not have Discover University, read five skill books over different topics, instead of going to college.

Gen 10:

If you do not have City Living, compete in an online tournament weekly instead of going to Geek Con.

[houseofperfecttaste]

Stiles Stilinski - Relax

YScott was the true alpha and with me being his sister I was an alpha and to be completely honest it sucked...a lot. With every villain that we faced we had everyone looking at us for the answers on how to stop it. Even though I'm happy that we beat the Ghost Riders and Garett there's still a lot of trauma that comes with it and I don't know to cope with it or all of it and it's building up. I feel like I'm gonna burst any day now.

Right now Stiles, and I were in history and the only thing that was replaying in my head was running into the library seeing Theo kill my brother and our mom running in behind me going to do CPR on him. Theo disappeared before I could kill him and I was sitting next to my brothers body. I turned my attention back to my teacher when I heard her voice and I was bouncing my knee rapidly chewing on my lip as Stiles looked at me with a worried face.

The bell rang and I gathered my things quickly running out of the room before Stiles could talk to me. I ran to my car locking it once I was inside and I closed my eyes breathing in and out slowly trying to steady my breathing. I saw Stiles get into his jeep and he followed me home since we were doing homework. We headed up to my room, him sitting on my desk chair and I laid on my stomach on my bed pulling out the math homework. The numbers and letters were getting scrambled and nothing was making sense in my head and I started getting stressed rubbing my face as Stiles kept glancing at me.

"God what's the point of learning all this? I mean when am I going to use this in the real world, it's so pointless." I exclaimed angrily slamming my math book closed throwing it aside with my homework tugging on the roots of my hair as Stiles pulled my hands away sitting next to me. I started breaking down from all the stress of finals and the whole town out for me and my friends heads. Stiles pulled me close rubbing my back kissing my head and stroking my hair.

"Talk to me baby." Stiles pulled me into his lap caressing my thighs soothingly looking into my eyes.

"I don't know how much more I can take. You becoming possessed, the Berserkers, the dead pool, the Dread Doctors, the Ghost riders, it was all so much to deal with and I don't know how to cope with everything, it's not like I can go to a therapist and say all this. And now we have the whole town trying to kill us. Everyone looks at Scott and I for answers and I feel like I always have to have one or else I let everyone down. I don't want my answer to be the reason someone we love dies. We can't afford to fuck up not now not with our lives on the line like this and it's up to Scott and I to save everyone." I sobbed out clinging onto Stiles soaking his shirt in tears.

"Y/N baby, just because you and Scott are the alphas doesn't mean you have to deal with everything by yourself. You guys are always going to have your pact to back you up. No matter what."

"On top of trying to stop Monroe and Gerard from killing all the supernatural, I have like five tests coming up, three projects, and a paper. Finals are kicking my ass and I feel like I'm drowning and I'm never going to be able to escape."

"You need a day to yourself baby, so how about no more studying or anything tonight. Tonight you're going to disconnect from the outside world and relax. Give me your phone." I placed my phone in his hand knowing he was right and he shut it off putting it in my drawer. He placed me on my bed gently before going to my bathroom turning the water on and coming out minutes later. He grabbed my hand leading me to the bathroom and Stiles had ran me a bubble bath and lit candles around the room dimming the lights. I began to slowly undress as he came back into the room with my laptop.

He put on my favorite movie as I climbed into the tub as he placed my laptop on the toilet seat cover and I leaned my head back against the tile sighing in relaxation letting my body sink further into the warm water. Stiles kissed my head and I grabbed his hand before he could walk away and he looked down at me confused.

"Will you get in with me?" I looked at him with a pleading look and he began to strip my eyes wandering all over his body looking at his v-line as he took off his sweatpants. I moved forward so he could sit behind me and he climbed in pulling me against his chest rubbing my arms.

"Thank you Stiles. This is calming me down." I looked up at him smiling as he kissed my cheek and jaw and he relaxed against the back of the tub. I rested my head on his shoulder closing my eyes as he traced circles on my stomach kissing my temple and his phone started ringing the caller ID reading 'Scott.' Stiles got up to answer the phone wrapping a towel around himself going into the other room to talk. I started picking at the skin around my nails as I worried that something was wrong and Scott needed me. Stiles came back into the room moments later putting his phone down giving me a reassuring smile.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah baby everything is okay, Scott needed help with Econ. Nothing supernatural." Stiles climbed in again behind me and once he was settled he grabbed my body wash and lufa rubbing it over my body gently. When he was done I turned around to face him, straddling his lap wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Thank you for sticking by Scott and I through everything. It means more to me than you'll ever know."

"Of course baby, I am not going anywhere. I would die before I left you." Stiles caressed my cheek as I bit my cheek looking down and he put his finger under my chin making me look at him.

"What's wrong?"

"You can't die." I whispered tears threatening to spill out of my eyes at the thought of Stiles dying. I would become a wreck if I didn't have Stiles in my life. Stiles wiped my tears away kissing all over my face.

"I'm sorry for saying that baby. Shhh it's okay." He soothed me petting my hair as I calmed myself down kissing his lips passionately. I pulled away intertwining our fingers kissing the back of his hands. I stood up stepping out of the tub with Stiles smacking my ass multiple times. I wrapped the towel around myself handing Stiles one as he also stepped out. Once I was dry I went into my room pulling out Stiles lacrosse hoodie putting it on with nike pros and fuzzy socks. I laid down on my bed a relaxing smile on my face and I pulled the covers over me watching Stiles throw on a pair of sweatpants.

"Woah McCall whatcha looking at?" Stiles joked winking at me as a blush crept up my cheeks and I covered my head with the blanket hiding my face. I heard Stiles' laugh as he kneeled on the bed pulling the blankets down. "Gotcha." Stiles started tickling my sides and I thrashed around trying to get away from his fingers. I got away from his grasp grabbing a pillow and swinging it as his head, his body falling on the bed as he raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh no you didn't."

"Oh yes I did." Stiles grabbed the pillow from my hands hitting me with it gently over and over as I laughed shielding my body with my arms. He put the pillow down laying down next to me pulling me closer placing sweet and light kisses on my neck.

"I love you Stilinski, thank you for the best relaxing day I've had in a while." I placed a kiss on his jaw snuggling into his chest my eyes fluttering closed drifting off to sleep.

[eclecticmiasma]

Human Art (Yandere!Rohan x Reader)

🖤 For the eternally lovely @vani-ya​ 💚

When strange things start happening around your apartment, your kind friend Rohan offers you a place to stay. 

NSFW

[Warnings: somnophilia, rape, mind control, abuse, dead dove: do not eat] 

It started out innocuous enough. Doors ajar that you could have sworn you closed. Missing laundry. Strange bruises. The fact that Morioh had a serial killer running around wasn’t exactly a secret, so you just felt like you were being overly paranoid when little things around your apartment began to go awry. You weren’t always the most mindful person, and a few little incidents did not a serial killer make.

That is, until the open doors had broken locks. Until you found strange stains on your underwear. Until the bruises that marred your hips and thighs began to look like fingerprints.

“Maybe it’s a ghost!” Okuyasu jested, waggling his eyebrows. Rohan shot him a look of deep disgust. Okuyasu’s face fell as he remembered the existence of Reimi, “Sorry…”  

“Well, you’re more than welcome to crash at my place,” Josuke interjected, “Mom’s probably dying to have another woman around-” At this, Rohan let out a snort of laughter.

“Stay at your place? And sleep where exactly?” Josuke chewed the inside of his lip.

“I…I mean I could sleep on the couch…” The mangaka rolled his eyes and set down his coffee with a frustrated clink.

“Am I always the only one with any real solutions?” He turned to you and looked you sternly in the eyes, “[Y/n], I’m sure you’ve noticed that my house is massive. As long as you don’t interrupt my work, the best thing to do is to stay with me for a while,” The gang blinked at Rohan, shocked at his uncharacteristic generosity. Okuyasu got ready to grill him on the fact that he refused to let him and his father stay at his mansion despite the fact that they continued to live in an abandoned shack, but Josuke elbowed him before he could start.

You were hesitant to accept. While it was a generous offer, you never really spoke to Rohan beyond gathering cursory information about the town’s other stand users. He sensed your unease and softened his gaze.

“It’ll be…an adventure. Maybe you could even help me model certain character poses? There is a severe lack of women in my work.”

In the end, you agreed. All of your things were moved to Rohan’s with the help of your friends, and you found yourself much more at ease with someone else in the house. Even if your rooms were fairly far apart, you felt much less likely to be murdered while not living alone. Whether or not that was misguided, you began to enjoy your temporary home.

But, slowly, incidents began to occur at Rohan’s home too. Much like before, they started out small. Bits of hair in your bed that weren’t yours. More marks on your body, covering the ones that had faded. One morning, you woke up with something dry and flaky across your chest and neck. You started to think that Okuyasu was right, maybe you did have some kind of ghost following you around.

When you voiced your concerns to Rohan, he waved them away. The two of you did laundry at the same time, so of course it was probably his hair caught in your blankets. Your aloof nature meant that you constantly bumped into things, he saw it himself. As for the mystery substance on your chest, maybe you needed to buy some new body lotion that wouldn’t clump up in your sleep. He recommended a local brand. Everything you came at him with, he had an answer for. Rohan’s level-headed nature put you at ease, and you were thankful for him.

But then everything fell apart. You don’t know what possessed you, perhaps it was a familiarity with the mangaka’s drawing room after having modeled for his various projects several times, but you found yourself perusing his massive catalogue of books. He had a novel on nearly every subject. As he told you many times, he found it of utmost importance to take inspiration from the real world.

When none of his library piqued your interest, you walked away from his bookshelf and padded over to his desk. Though you were never allowed to look at his unfinished work, curiosity got the better of you. Rohan was much too controlling when it came to his work, you felt. A little peak wouldn’t do anyone any harm.

You picked up a sketchbook and rifled through it, amazed at how detailed his drawings were. Birds, insects around the home, coffee plates, sandwiches, human hands, anything and everything he saw was sketched out to the most minute details. He was absurdly talented. You felt a bit of pride in being his friend.

At the back of the sketchbook were nude drawings. You blushed as your eyes raked over the lewd poses. Some genitalia was drawn, both male and female. The model’s body was contorted in all different poses, many sexual in nature. As you flipped the page, you were shocked to see actual sexual acts being performed. You had never heard of models that were willing to do this kind of thing. Although, Rohan had a lot of money and none of the sketches showed their faces. Except for one.

The sketchbook tumbled to the floor.

The face was yours.

Not once had he asked you to pose nude for him, but there you were. Your full body was on display. Leaned back over the edge of a sofa so that your hair dragged along the floor. One of your hands grasped your breast seductively while the other delved into your core. It was unmistakably you, down to the birthmark on your abdomen. You knew Rohan only drew from what was directly in front of him, so how in the world-

Rohan cleared his throat behind you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. A devious look danced behind his eyes. He set down his satchel unceremoniously and closed the study door.

“I suppose this was bound to happen at some point,” Your heart raced as the lock clicked in place. Rohan slid off his gloves and threw them on the leather chair next to his satchel. Not once did he take his emerald eyes off of your now trembling form.

“I don’t understand,” You managed to say, though your voice was weak and nearly unintelligible.

“You wouldn’t,” Rohan chuckled darkly, “You’re much too stupid to put two and two together. Now, kneel.”

To your shock, your knees immediately hit the wooden floor.

“Heaven’s Door,” Rohan muttered, taking your face in his palms. Your whole body tensed and something like a book opened in your left cheek, “You know, this charade has been quite fun. I probably could have been happy to keep you as my perfect little pet forever. But, seeing you like this, seeing the genuine fear in your eyes, I’m starting to realize that your inability to remember our time together has honestly been quite boring,” He whipped out a pencil from his pocket and erased something from your pages.

All at once, everything came flooding back. The nights in your apartment where something, someone held you down while you sobbed, marking your body as their own. The way they flaunted your stolen underwear as they huffed it while fucking your breasts. Broken locks strewn to the floor as you screamed.

And at Rohan’s house, memories of him choking you until you complied with his demands, his thick cock stretching your throat. The unhinged glee in his eyes as he came all over your neck and chest. Images of your naked, trembling body on display as he drew you any way he wanted, even while being used by him.

Paralyzed by Rohan’s stand, all you could do was remember and weep.

“There we go,” He said, closing your pages and stepping back, admiring his work, “I even took out the clause that says you have to obey any orders I give,” A dark grin danced across his features, “Now, look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

You couldn’t. Not after the visions that played in your mind. Everything you had feared for months stood directly in front of you, taunting you. Pain erupted on the side of your head as Rohan twisted your hair around his fist and pulled you way from the side of the desk. He used that momentum to throw you to the floor and, immediately, he was on you, tearing off your clothes with practiced precision. Though you kicked and screamed, Rohan was deceptively strong. You cried out as he wrenched your arm painfully behind your back.

“Keep fighting me, and I’ll pop your arm out of its socket,” Despite his warning you continued to struggle, wriggling underneath him for any kind of opportunity to get the upper hand. He let out an exasperated sigh and tugged hard. You cried out as burning agony shot down your arm and the limb fell to your side with a thud, “You really think one would learn after the first twenty or so times. How did you even survive on your own for this long?”

With the rest of your clothing off, he moved his weight from you and ordered you to get back on your knees. Trembling, you acceded, forcing yourself up with your working arm to face him. You watched as he retrieved his sketchbook from the floor. He flipped through the pages with annoyance.

“Not many left. Ah, here’s a spot. Now…what do I need from you…” Rohan’s brow furrowed as he tapped his chin with a fountain pen and looked at your sobbing face. His lip curled in disgust, “Let’s put that mouth to use. Open up,” Your eyes met his and you silently pleaded for mercy. Images of him forcing his way past your lips flashed before you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to comply.

“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself,” Fury bubbled beneath Rohan’s calculated stare. After you continued to hesitate, he cupped his hand and put it to his ear, “What’s that? You’re begging me to paralyze you with my stand?” You shook your head furiously and opened your mouth for him, ashamed, “Good girl.”

Rohan walked over to you and unzipped his baggy trousers. With pen in hand, he fished out his half-hard member and let it hit your tongue. Fresh tears streamed down your cheeks. His thumb grazed your cheek, and for a moment you thought he might even take pity on you. He only smirked.

“Mess up my drawing, and I’ll throat-fuck you until you have to use a feeding tube,” Fear coursed through you as he started to draw, lightly thrusting his length along your tongue to allow it to fully harden. You barely breathed.

Minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. Rohan sketched the way his cock sat between your lips as if he were sketching a detailed flower. Nothing in his facial expressions betrayed the act in which he was participating. But he was certainly aroused. You fought back the urge to gag when salty pre-cum hit your tongue.

When he slapped the sketchbook closed, you jumped. The sick sense of security you felt while he was drawing melted, and terrified anticipation took its place.

“Get on all fours,” Reluctantly, you did as he said. He came up behind you and slid his hands along your inner thighs, “Spread your legs…Further,” Your face heated up with shame and rage as you felt him grasp the soft flesh of your behind. He toyed with it, massaging it and spreading it apart to examine your innermost parts.

“Wait!” You cried out as something prodded at your entrance. You lurched forward to escape him, but tumbled onto your dislocated shoulder. Rohan quickly caught your hips and dragged you back across the floor. A sharp slap resounded in the room as he reared back and spanked you as hard as he could, “Please, Rohan-”

“Please, Rohan,” He mocked, smacking you again, “Do you know how long I’ve kept myself from burying my cock inside of you?” Burning pain filled you as he thrust himself forward, plunging inside of you with his thick length. Your nails dug into the floor as you sobbed, begging him to stop.

His pace was instantly vicious, dizzying. It was painful, so incredibly painful, but your cries fell on deaf ears. He even chuckled as you writhed beneath him, trying desperately to get away. With a swift motion he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you to him so that your back stuck to his chest. His clammy hands enthusiastically grasped at your bouncing breasts.

“Don’t you wonder why…” He growled in your ear, rolling his hips against you, “…after all the ways I’ve taken you, why not here?” His hand moved from your chest to rub painful circles into your clit. His other hand slid up to your neck and gripped it so tightly that you could barely respond, “I don’t mean to sound sentimental, but I wanted you to remember it. A whore like you should be so lucky to be fucked by Rohan Kishibe.”

Finally, his thrusts slowed and he shifted the angle of your body. Though it was still painful, the new position allowed his dick to plant a cloying feeling deep within your core. Every time he penetrated you, it gave you pause. Combined with the more deliberate ministrations of his fingers on your clit, the realization dawned on you that you were dangerously close to orgasm. Your heart raced at the thought. You wanted to scream, but Rohan’s grip on your neck kept you near silent.

“Cum for me you little slut. I know exactly where your buttons are, so don’t try to fight it,” The world around you spun as lack of oxygen finally took its toll, and everything you had been fighting so hard to stop fell by the wayside. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, little pinpricks of light dancing in your vision as your body trembled. Rohan cackled psychotically and let you drop to the floor.

While you came down from your high, Rohan fucked you harder. Your knees rubbed the floor painfully as he took you, slamming his cock deep within you again and again and again. You had no energy to hold yourself up, especially with just one arm, and you let him have his way with you as you silently cried.

His own orgasm wasn’t far behind. To your absolute shock he pulled out of you, digging the nails of his left hand into your thigh as his right milked out semen all over the skin of your back.

As soon as he released every drop of cum, there was shuffling behind you. You dared to glance down to see that he immediately went to grab his sketchpad to draw your freshly marked body and abused hole. You didn’t even need to be told to stay still.

When he was finished, he flipped you over. You yelped in shock as he grabbed your foot and held it up to where he could see the bottom of it. Pain shot through you as he took his fountain pen and sliced into the sole of your foot, cutting a thin line.

“There,” he panted, dropping your leg, “You didn’t really think that was our first time, did you?” He cast a smug smile your direction as your face dropped, “That’s it, that’s the face! Hold still,” He picked up the book beside him and quickly outlined your pained expression. He grinned as his pen flew across the paper, absolutely unhinged. “Anyway, of course you believed me. The only person more gullible than you is that buffoon Josuke.”

“But…I saw everything…” Rohan let out a genuine cackle.

“You remember what I let you remember, you stupid bitch. Why would I pass up the chance to break you anew every single day? To let you think that I still had one more line left to cross? The raw emotion…that’s truly art,” You thought you had run your tears dry, but more just kept coming. A choked sob left your lips as you dared to look at the bottom of your foot. It was covered in scars, some fresher than others. There must have been hundreds. Little tick marks that denoted how Rohan had used you time and time and time again.

Before you could process everything that happened, before you could curl up into yourself and howl at the indignity, Heaven’s Door had you between its grubby little hands. Rohan himself sauntered over and scribbled something on your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you go wash your filthy little hole and go to bed?” Your mind went blank as the world around you fell away. Rohan called out to you as you mindlessly lifted yourself up to walk to the bathroom as he bid you.

“Sweet dreams, [Y/n].” *all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

[celestialices]

QUEST!

Greek Mythology x Haikyuu 

Haikyuu!Ensemble x Reader

Summary: You were just a perfectly normal student at The University of Tokyo, when suddenly a bunch of 'normal boys', as they call themselves, appeared in your life and started to squeeze themselves into your life. Always saying something like "You're a goddess, we need to take you back to Olympus" (you brushed it off, saying that it was just a silly compliment) and even absurd sentences such as "You got Medusa's eyes" and "You're really Medusa's daughter!"

You really want a peaceful school year, but the universe beg to differ.

007: UNANTICIPATED ENCOUNTERS

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Your family is like a heap of stones, remove one and the entire structure will crumble. Living with your sympathetic mother and doting brother is a dream come true. Along with your only known relatives, Kyoutani Household and Inouka Family, completes the household.  It’s small; however, there’s nothing else that could compete over this haven of yours.  Moreover, your mother’s friend coming in the picture constantly every 6 months to take care of your family ever since you came into this world is another section of your stable life. He has been doting over you and acted as the father figure of your little family. His visits would always complete your year.  Speaking of your acting paternal, he just arrived two days ago and will probably stay over for another five days. It’s amazing how his visits remain unchanging though, always the same month and the same days. It was unvarying, maybe that’s where you grasp some of the mannerism you have currently.  Your surroundings has always been permanent. A little changes here and there would arise, but never big ones. That’s why it scares you if something ever happens; owing to the fact that this life you have is already part of you. It has always been you, your mother and Yuki. You’re already comfortable with this, possessing the same old life you had when you were born.  A knock on your door snapped you out of your trance, your name was followed shortly after. “Are you almost ready?” Recognizing the voice, you stood up pronto, so swift that it almost ruined your balance.  Shaking your head to dismiss the dizziness off, you picked up your school bag and opened the door. “Good morning, Heiji-san.” You greeted with a smile.  He ruffled your hair. One of his tendencies whenever he visits. It’s like messing up your hair before you leave for school is a must. “Good morning. Breakfast is prepared, your friend is also there already.” He announced.  Friend. He’s probably talking about Hirugami Sachiro, your infamous childhood friend. It’s like a tradition nowadays, he regularly comes over for breakfast, reasoning that your mother cooks the best meals. When the truth is he just dreadfully hates seeing to his older sister and her boyfriend being ‘lovey-dovey.’  You didn’t noticed that Heiji had already dragged you downstairs, startled when you overheard your mother and Hirugami having a chat. It happens so often now, being lost in your own thoughts. You approached them, kissing your mother’s cheek and saying your greetings before nodding at Hirugami.  “Let’s eat!” Yuki yelled out, provoking the four of you to come to the dining room. You immediately started to consume the served meal after everyone sat down, since praying wasn’t really necessary. Your mother never pushed beliefs into the both of you, your opinions and own faith will be yours to decide on. Freedom is a fundamental for her ‘How-To-Be-A-Perfect-Mother-101.’ “How about you invite your other friend sometimes?” Your mother, Shibayama Yumie, asked you. “Korai-kun, was it?” Her memory impresses you from time to time; but then again, you only have a few friends. Countable by one hand, howbeit they’re all as good as one’s word. “Hmm, I’ll tell him to come by for breakfast sometimes, mom.” You answered blissfully. Breakfasts are the most important meal of the day, and eating with the whole family are euphoric. Especially with your two best friends and Heiji, aka three of the most important people of your life? That’s like dreaming with one's eyes open.  “It’ll be nice to meet your friends.” Heiji said. “And also, invite your relatives. It’s just proper to celebrate our lady’s coming-of-age at once.”  Oh, right. You just turned 18 a few days ago, but throwing a party isn’t really  obligatory. But because your mother kept pressing you about it, you just excused that Heiji should be there, as he is an important factor in your life after all.  “We can party this weekend, a day before Heiji-san leaves.” Yuki suggested.  “That’ll be splendid.” Heiji replied while nodding his head. He smiled at Yuki before turning to you, “Request all of your friends to come, okay? It’s a must for me to meet all your acquaintances.”  Chuckling at his desire, you just bobbed your head as a sign of agreement. As if you’ll invite a lot of people.  “Are you two done?” Yumie asked, looking at you and Hirugami. “You better leave now, or else you’ll be late for school.”  “Right, right.” Hirugami stood up from his seat, gathering all his belongings after chugging a glass of water. “Thank you for the toothsome breakfast, Yumie-san! I’ll look forward to more of your cooking.”  Hirugami is.. shameless. What’s missing is him calling your mother ‘mom’ too. Who knows, it’ll probably happen sooner or later.  “We’ll be going now!” You both said simultaneously before exiting the house.  Walking with Hirugami to school is one of the thousands habits you’ve picked up as well since your friendship with him started. Your mother asking for him to “protect” you was the sole reason of it, along with freedom, safety has always been a big deal for her. It is her top priority for you and your brother, it’s honestly admirable. And of course, living in the same neighborhood with the Hirugami family made it a piece of cake.  Anyhow, it’s reassuring. As someone who’s not entirely fond of changes, having  your fixed routine, that you unconsciously formed while growing up, occur like the usual brings a sense of comfort to you. 

”So, about that guy from last night.” Hirugami began the conversation after minutes of silently walking. Ever since bumping into the mysterious man yesterday and witnessing his unexpected reaction, your friends have been getting on your nerves with their constant queries. ”Shut up.” You cut him off pronto. Seriously, was blowing up your notifications up until midnight not enough? “For the last time, I don’t know him, Sachiro.” With an exasperated sigh, you fastened your pace, showing your obvious annoyance.  “I won’t tease you anymore, wait up!” Hirugami catched up while bursting with laughter. Him making fun of you was not new, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t irksome. “I just thought you finally found a partner after being single for so long.”  You immediately sent a glare to your friend after he said those words. “Hirugami Sachiro, I will end you.” You threatened with your most serious face, but nevertheless, he just laughed. Sometimes, the urge to choke him until he runs out of breath will pop up.  “Fine, fine. I’ll shut up.” With one last chuckle coming out his mouth, he finally piped down. Not a moment after when his phone started ringing, making you look up to him. “It’s Korai.” He announced, answering the phone call straight away.  You just stared at him while he talked to Hoshiumi, disappointed that you can’t hear what Hoshiumi’s saying on the other line. And your companion is insensitive enough to not put him on speaker.  After a few minutes, he ended the call and peeked at you forthwith. “He’s waiting for us by the gates.”  “Okay.” It didn’t take long after you reached the gates, already seeing Hoshiumi’s unique white hair from afar. His eyes perked up when you and Hirugami locked eyes with him, smiled when you waved at him.  After exchanging greetings with Hoshiumi, the three of you started to walk on your respective classrooms. “Oh, right. I heard a rumor.” Hoshiumi suddenly declared.  “What rumor?” Hirugami asked. What even kind of rumors for Hoshiumi to give a damn about it?  “Transferees.”  “Transferees? In the middle of the second semester?” You questioned. 

“Yeah. Two of them are in one of your classes, apparently.” Hoshiumi informed. “Hirugami and I share some of the classes with the other two.”  Who could that be? Who in their right mind would transfer in a middle of a semester? You halted, realizing that you already reached your class. “Oh, I’m here. See you later.”  “Library.” Hirugami gave you a heads up. The library is one of the places in school where you three meet up to fill up the free time before eating lunch. It’s amazing how your schedules go along with each other. You merely nodded in return before entering your homeroom.  You sat in your corresponding seat without interruptions, taking out your phone since no one will talk to you anyways. Plugging your earphones in after bringing out your book, you separated yourself from the world.  Music is another element of your life. It makes you forget the real situation in hand, transports you into a state which is not your own. Under the influence of music, it seems like you feel what you never felt before, it makes you understand what you don’t understand, to have powers which you can’t have. Music is powerful, it inspires. It gives you a glimpse of an impossible world.  A few songs played before you heard the bell rang, bringing you back to reality. It saddened you, but music will never leave your side no matter what. Your professor entered after a few minutes, two boys after her.  “Good morning. An addition of two students will be joining us this semester. Namely, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” The one wearing a mask and has curly hair bowed his head. “And Komori Motoya.” The man who has light-colored hair and thick, round eyebrows waved.  The class erupted into whispers, some of them waving back at the seemingly cheerful boy. “Please take care of us!” Komori uttered and inclined his head. “You two can seat behind Shibayama.” You flinched at the sudden call, but raised your hand nonetheless. You forgot that there are two vacant seats behind you, not that it mattered anyway.  As the two were seated, your professor instantly started her discussion. And as the good student you are, you quietly listened and took your notes.  After three boring hours, the bell finally rang, signalling the end of class. You stood up from your seat as soon as the professor left, not letting anyone approach you like the asocial you are.  You started walking towards the library while scrolling through your phone, confident that you won’t bump into someone. Well, surely a person with common sense would avoid you, will they not?  Wrong. You’re absolutely wrong.  You sighed before glancing at the person you bumped into. You’ve been bumping into people a lot these days, is this your new profound curse? “Sorry.” You hid your astonishment after locking eyes with him.  A student with dark-brown hair and grayish-yellow fox-like eyes who looks like he’s eventually on his way to murder someone. You bowed at him and immediately left.  It’s the first time you saw his face in the university, so he’s either a transferee or someone who doesn’t like going out in the grounds. Despite being introverted, you’re proud to say you know all the faces in your university. You stood in front the library’s door to let out another deep sigh. Backing away when the door suddenly opened from your side. “Oh, my apologies. That was rude of me.” He uttered, motioning for you to enter first.  You peeked at him, and saw that his gunmetal blue eyes staring at you. “Ah, thank you.” Offering him a smile before entering the library, completely unaware of his change of expression.  Plopping yourself down beside Hoshiumi, you started to read the book you picked up before approaching them. Unconsciously, you let out another groan, thinking back at today’s events.  Interacting with people is truly draining. 

A/N:  And there goes the second-years from the representative team 👀 Oh, and I just want to say that I may use she/her pronouns/fem!reader but please keep in mind that this is a safe space for everyone :). If it’s confusing, reader is from Shibayama family (consisting of a mother and younger brother). Family relatives [ Kyoutani, Inouka (comprising of a mother + son) ] and her mother’s friend (Heiji-san, standing up as her father figure) visits them from time to time. In conclusion, her family has very few members. Happy Holidays, everyone! May 2021 give us good memories. Always remember to stay safe! And as usual, thank you for tuning in! <3 

[dadsbongos]

It’s in the Walls

Movie/Game/Show: The Boy

Dynamic: Brahms Heelshire/Reader

Warnings: you got a whole ass man living in your house without you knowing, you’re a mom

Summary: There’s a large house up for sale on a massive price-cut, who wouldn’t take that deal?

~~~

“Mom!” the shriek was high-pitched and echoed through the winding walls of the maze the manor made itself out to be.

(Y/n) closed her eyes, pretending the scream didn’t happen for a few seconds of cheap bliss before breaking back into her mothering persona. She crept down the corridors, reminding herself to take down every painting on the wall, the eyes followed her. Eventually, she came into her younger son’s new room, leaning her body against the doorway.

The blond child was huddled in a box pressed against the right wall, his small body curled tightly into itself inside the cardboard. He looked to his mother, large blue eyes sprinkled in delight that she came. Pointing to his bed, he murmured, “I saw a rat.”

“What?” she muttered, the realtor said the rodents that only stuck to the yard, but of course, that was a lie, “Oh, sweetie, come here,” the boy stumbled out of the box and grabbed onto his mother’s extended hand, “I’ll take care of him, you go make sure Joey hasn’t lost in mind in the library, okay?”

“Thank you, Dylan,” she cooed, pressing a short kiss to his forehead before sending him off.

His pink lips, shaped nearly identically to his father’s, stretched into a large grin,

“Okay, Mama!”

As soon as her son was gone, the smile drooped and suddenly she felt the weight of her eye bags drawing on her face. (Y/n) carefully approached the bed before getting onto her hands and knees, pulling up one of the draping blankets to peek underneath. A squirming, round, fat little frame poked out in the darkness before it squealed and began scurrying away.

Her hand shot out and she squeezed the fatty body between her fingers, grimacing at the rat in her hand. She never hated the things, they just never piqued her interest in the best ways, either. It thrashed and scratched at her, a small hiss leaving the woman before she tossed one of the windows open and left the rat on the sill outside to crawl away. Shutting and locking the window once again, (Y/n) made another mental note to get rat traps. Unless there were already traps.

Exiting the room, (Y/n) huffed at every creak in the wooden planks of the floorboards. The manor was old, oh, so old, it only made sense that none of the wooden boards would be silent. Even so, it was annoying and she liked to think she had the right to complain.

Eyes drifting to paintings and peeling wallpaper, she tried to remind herself to be thankful. Divorce wasn’t easy, much less so when your ex was a greedy, manipulative joke that milked you for nearly all of your possessions - she was lucky to find the mansion. Especially at such an astoundingly low price - she doubted a typical house would be cheaper than what she got the place for. None of those houses came fully-furnished anyway. Admittedly creepy and strange, but you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you might not like what you see.

As (Y/n) scanned through cupboards and cabinets, a loud thud alerted her of a new presence in the kitchen. She shot up, banging her head on the interior of a cabinet, her hand settled on the tender curve of her skull, softly rubbing as she stood. At the counter was her elder son, black-dyed hair messy and glasses slipping down his nose.

“Hi, honey,” (Y/n) chuckled at his frazzled appearance, “just get done wrestling one of the stuffed bears?”

Joey rolled his eyes, thumping a thick, hard-cover book against the granite countertop, “No, actually, I was looking for my shoes. Where are they?”

The woman shrugged, “How am I supposed to know?”

“I left them by the door and they’re not there anymore,” the teenage boy scratched at the back of his head, “Dylan’s either lying or genuinely didn’t steal them so I came to you.”

“Did you check everywhere?” (Y/n) questioned, brows furrowing at the absurdity of the situation, “Shoes don’t just walk away on their own, you gotta have feet in them.”

“Yes, I checked everywhere,” the boy grumbled, no longer bumping the book on the hard surface, now content to flip through the pages and allow the smell of old parchment to fill their nostrils. What a lovely smell that was.

Shaking her head, the mother fumbled for an explanation to the whereabouts of her son’s shoes, “I don’t know what to tell you, you brought more pairs, right?”

Joey nodded slowly, eyes scanning through fragmented sentences before turning to the next page, “Yeah, I just really liked those ones.”

“Alright, well, I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually, don’t worry yourself over it,” she grasped her boy’s shoulder, rubbing her thumb into the flesh tenderly before letting go, “We have a rat problem, by the way, if you see any traps, let me know.”

“Oh fun,” he mumbled, forcing a wide smile onto his lips, “I think there’s some in the backyard if you haven’t been out there. They look like shit but they’ll probably get the job done.”

“Language, but thank you.”

“English and you’re welcome.”

Deciding it was better to just walk away at this point, (Y/n) headed for the back door. It was heavy to pull open and nearly slammed shut if she hadn’t pressed her foot into the thick wood, grunting at the responding pain. A trash bag was set out with a pair of gloves next to it on a quaint little side table with spider webs running between the beige wicker legs. As if somebody had put them out for a quick run but forgot they wouldn’t be using them after they left.

After that, what caught her eye was the glint of rusted metal in the thick, untamed bushes of the surrounding greenery. Upon closer inspection, she could see that grass had entangled with the metallic gate on a small wooden box, buzzing flies being the next eye-catcher. She crouched down, instantly picking up on the putrid smell of corroding flesh and dried blood, flies nibbling on the swiss cheesed corpse of a rat.

“Shit!” she gagged, backing away, rubbing her hands on her pants despite having not touched the cage at all.

Looking back up at the house, (Y/n) barely noticed the outline of a person in one of the second-floor windows. She blinked twice, shaking her head before squinting back up at the same window. Just a coat rack. Didn’t seem right - there were pants in the outline! - but then she realized how outlandish it seemed. If there was a secret person living in the house, surely it would’ve been mentioned by the realtor.

‘Forgotten’ rats were one thing, an entire person was another.

“Mom!” another soprano level scream ruptured her eardrums.

In turn, (Y/n) huffed, clenching her eyes shut before turning around and walking back towards the porch. What she first noticed was her seven-year-old, the second being the extremely off-putting, cracked porcelain doll in his arms.

It was half his size and looked to have been haphazardly put back together with some unnamed brand of superglue. Dark hair framed its head quite well with glassy, hazel eyes and pale, pretty pink lips. Grossly realistic and abandoned in a mansion, it seemed to be perfect fire material. Or it would be, if she hadn’t been told by the realtor, very explicitly, to not use the fireplace.

“Whole house could go up in flames,” Mindy had waved her hands about, “I’m not sure how that’d work, but just… don’t test it.”

Dylan held up the doll closer to his mother’s face, “Isn’t he cool?!”

“Yeah,” she lied through her teeth, carefully taking the doll, “Does he have a name?”

Leading his mother back inside, Dylan shrugged, but his loose limbs and lack of control made it appear as though he was trying to toss his shoulders off from his body, “Don’t know.”

“Hmm,” she quietly hummed, pulling back the tightly sewn collar of the doll to peek at a possible name tag, “I’m not seeing anything here, baby. You wanna name him yourself?”

There was another creak, easily dismissed as the manor’s old bones settling as the woman handed the fragile doll to her son. Dylan pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at the toy for a few moments before bursting out an answer, “I think he looks like a James!”

(Y/n) nodded to the boy’s antics, “I think that’s a great name for him.”

Before they could continue the conversation, a hard bang on the wall knocked a picture from its spot above the stove, toppling onto the rather shiny surface. Their heads turned, eyes wide and Dylan was suddenly shaking, grasping onto his mother’s shirt and huddling into her side. The woman settled a hand on her son’s shoulder, pressing her thumb into the tensing muscles before pulling away to inspect the wall. 

It was a wall, obviously. Flat, leveled, wall. Nothing particularly interesting about it aside from the wallpaper’s collection of grime and peels. Looking down, she took notice of the framed picture. Three figures stood in front of the home (Y/n) now found herself in possession of. Garden controlled and clean with no windows boarded, cracked, or dirtied. A young woman not much older than (Y/n) herself was holding a four-year-old brunette boy to her hip with, who one could assume was, her husband beside them.

Glancing between the picture and the doll, she frowned at how similar the toy looked to the little boy. Not to mention that haunting family portrait at the foot of the staircase. Turning the frame over in her hands, she opened up the back before pulling the picture out of its frame. (Y/n) searched for a scrawled title of the photograph, quickly finding an answer.

Mummy, Daddy, and Brahms!

She replaced the picture just as quickly as she got it out, debating between putting it back and tossing it out before deciding to leave it on the counter. (Y/n) took her son’s chubby cheeks between her hands, planting yet another kiss on his freckled forehead, “I think his name is Brahms, sweetie.”

“Brahms?” Dylan muttered, almost as though he was testing for another bump. When there was none, he nodded, “Brahms.”

Running away and back up the stairs, (Y/n) was ready to force herself into forgetting the whole thing happened when her older son’s voice was heard.

“It’s funny, you little brat!” followed by a loud wail.

“Give him back!” Dylan screamed.

(Y/n) rushed out of the kitchen to see Joey holding Brahms out of Dylan’s reach, the older boy was visibly angry, “Funny, I could say the same thing to you!”

“Joseph Lowy,” the woman muttered, snatching the doll from her son, and giving it back to her pouting little blond boy, “Here, go play with Brahms,” as he ran up the stairs, she called after him, “Don’t get too crazy up there, you two!”

Joey shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, “Little asshole.”

“Hey!” (Y/n) looked over to the sixteen-year-old, “Don’t talk about your little brother like that.”

“He stole more of my shit,” the dark-haired boy tapped at the wall a few times with his knuckles, shaking his head, “Shoes I could deal with but now two of my shirts are missing.”

“Did you leave them at the house?” she tried to reason, leaning against the wall, “Dylan’s been with me for a while, maybe you’re losing it, sweetpea.”

Joey cringed at the pet name briefly before deciding to carry on with his point, “No, I didn’t leave my clothes at the house. I wouldn’t leave a single sock with that dick.”

“Don’t call my ex a dick,” (Y/n) breathed out, turning her son around and nudging him towards the den, “Only I can do that.”

“Unfair.”

“This isn’t a democracy, it’s a dictatorship,” (Y/n) waved off, standing there long enough just to watch the boy sit down on a leather chair and open the book in his hands. She’d have to go into town for rat traps, then.

She bit at her lip, turning towards the flight of stairs and beginning to go up the steps. Without the creeks flowing alongside her movement, the house seemed even more eerie - she didn’t bother to stop and figure out why there were no creeks. It didn’t matter to her at the time.

(Y/n) peeked into Dylan’s room, smiling softly at the sight of her little boy seated at a play table with plastic plates and cups and faux food set delicately on it. He was holding a small pink teacup with Brahms porcelain fingers using a hair tie to keep a similar purple one in his grasp. When the little boy noticed his mother in the doorway, he waved wildly, taking one of Brahms’ arms gently and copying the motion onto the doll.

Continuing down the hall, (Y/n) came upon her room, pushing it open and immediately seeing that her suitcases and bags had been peeled open. She was sure that she’d left them all zipped and sealed before leaving, but, of course, you can never be too certain. Going over to the luggage, she moved clothing around and peered through when she noticed how strewn about her things were.

The ‘fragile-minded’ female role after a heavy divorce was not something (Y/n) ever imagined herself as being. It was so played out and disgusting, she despised it with everything in her body. Yet, as she found that one of her dresses was missing, she suddenly felt as though it was depressingly truer than she’d hoped.

(Y/n) turned to another suitcase; her apple red-tinted skirt was gone. She dug deeper into the case, pulling out a few stray, tossed-around shirts in her endeavor to find her favorite skirt. She tossed a hand up, giving up on finding the articles of clothing for the time being. Not that she’d admit it, but worry was beginning to fester in the deepest crawlspaces of her gut.

Stepping over to a different suitcase, (Y/n) pulled out what probably wouldn’t make her look as though she just woke up and went over to the bathroom connected to her bedroom. 

Mindy had made it abundantly clear that the two previous owners drowned themselves while on a ‘two-month’ vacation after leaving the house to a nanny. Who the nanny was or why she left wasn’t made clear to either woman, just that the house wasn’t right. Cryptic language, always appreciated.

Taking into mind the deaths and sudden missing clothing combined with bumps from the kitchen, it may be time to call the kettle a kettle. The home may be haunted. Not that she wanted a literal haunted house, but what other choice was there at this point?

Not even apartments were renting as low as the manor was selling.

As she finished getting dressed, (Y/n) began her way out of the house, stopping at her younger son’s room, “I’m going out for some things. Want me to bring you back anything?”

Dylan looked over to the cracked doll, “Do you want new clothes, Brahms?”

The doll, of course, was completely silent. Unmoving. Watching. 

“I think Brahms wants new clothes, Mom,” Dylan beamed at the woman, holding up his plastic cup.

(Y/n) giggled, nodding as she pat the doorway, “Alright, honey, I’ll see what I can do for Brahms.”

“Thanks, Mom,” the bubbly little boy lowered his cup, settling his hand on the doll’s back, “Say thanks, Brahms.”

No words came from the toy, as one would be expected to expect. It sat still, not moving but still watching. Always watching. Unblinking, glassy, hazel eyes stuck on his flesh-and-blood blond friend.

“He says thanks.”

Nodding, the woman gave her boy a thumbs up, “I’m sure.”

The next son was still in the den, reading quietly to himself. Every now and again one’s ear would pick up on a small mumble of a word, small stutters slipping from the teenager’s lips. (Y/n) came up behind the boy, hands slamming onto the back of the chair loudly.

Joey jumped in his place, turning swiftly, “The hell, Mom?”

“I’m going out, bookworm,” (Y/n) teased, running a hand through the boy’s messy black hair, “Need me to pick something up?”

“Coffee grounds would be great,” he confirmed, “There’s none in this entire, literal, mansion.”

“Alright,” she gently brought her older son’s shoulders back so his head was laying against the chair, “Take a break sometime soon, okay? Stretch for a bit, make you and your brother some lunch.”

He hummed in acknowledgment but otherwise, there was no indication of him having even listened to his mother. 

~~

The next morning was just as drab and bland as the previous, and there was no doubt that the morning after this would be the same as always. (Y/n) huffed as she climbed out of bed, rubbing a hand over her droopy eyes. She stood, no longer remembering much of what had happened yesterday other than buying children’s clothes for a doll and coffee grounds for her son.

Not even the drill holes the previous owners must have never paid much mind to, which she noticed after dinner. They were strangely large for any typical drill she’d seen or owned.

(Y/n) managed to trudge into the kitchen during her dazed state, neither one of her boys was eating and so she correctly assumed both were still asleep. Scratching under her shirt at her stomach, the woman picked the coffee grounds from under the sink, laying the hefty tub on the counter next to the maker. Seemed a bit counterproductive to have a coffee maker and not a single crumb of grounds or even any beans to actually use. Not that she could say it to the owners’ faces.

“Oh, filters, right,” she mumbled to herself, immediately recalling the thin papers in the walk-in closet style storage compartment. 

Her hand scanned over a few shelves, one arm crossed over her chest and the other still running along canned goods and cereal boxes. She tilted her head to rest on the raised shoulder, beginning to hum quietly to herself. The air was pleasantly crisp, oddly crisp for the interior of a house let alone a pantry. It had the same feeling as being inside an attic, if that made any sort of sense it didn’t matter to her at the time. Not much about the house mattered to her at the moment.

A few creeks and Joey was walking into the kitchen, the poor house was only getting older and with his naturally heavy steps, Joey found himself making more noise than he’d like. So much noise. Too much noise. Why did he have to be so loose with his footfalls? He’d been walking for over forty years by now.

Forty years? Forty years.

He was a grown man, he should be able to walk quietly. Just because Greta left him, he suddenly can’t be a ghost anymore?

A scream clutched the air as the pantry door slammed shut. (Y/n) turned, not finding herself much a fan of the darkness. She took the doorknob into her grip, violently twisting and pushing on the knob, “Joseph?! Dylan?!”

The door refused to budge, like a weight was pressing down onto it. It creaked and rocked ever so slightly but there was no way of getting it open.

“Joseph fucking Lowy, open this God damn door!” she pounded on the busted wood, beginning to kick when her hits proved no help, “Dylan! One of you open this door, right now!”

Suddenly, the lock made a click, and all the invisible weight was gone, a sixteen-year-old boy staring quizzically at his mother, “Mom, what’s wrong with you? How did you lock the door from the outside?”

“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) shook her head, giving the pantry a glance over her shoulder, “You locked me in there.”

“You woke me up with all your yelling,” Joey instantly denied, “I’m surprised Dylan’s not up yet.”

“Joseph, I’m not playing with you right now,” she crossed both arms, “It’s not cute.”

“I’m serious!” he shouted in his own defense, neither of them taking notice in the seven-year-old cradling a porcelain doll with a cracked face to his chest, “I wouldn’t lock you in a pantry!”

“Mom…” the boy muttered.

(Y/n)’s jaw clenched, eyes slamming shut and body turning away from her older son to look at the disgusting wallpaper of her kitchen. She sniffed hard, rubbing under her nose before looking back to her younger son, “Yes, sweetie?”

“Brahms made a mess,” Dylan quietly replied, going up to his mother and grabbing her hand, “It wasn’t me, really. It was Brahms.”

“What do you mean it was Brahms?” she huffed, following after the child as he began leading her up to the second floor, “He’s a doll, baby, it was probably just the wind knocking something over.”

“No,” he shook his head, pushing his bedroom door open wider, “Brahms made a mess.”

A mess indeed. Clothes and toys had been absolutely hurricaned around the little boy’s room, some glass from pictures and abandoned dishes shattered across the floor. Dylan’s play table had been toppled over with all the plasticware left on the carpeted ground. Looking over to her son’s feet, (Y/n) felt herself puzzled at the lack of blood; glass was everywhere. How could his reckless little feet avoid all of it?”

“Baby, did you step in any glass?”

“There’s glass in there?” the boy peeked around his mother before looking down at Brahms, “How did you do that?”

(Y/n) turned back to the bedroom, poking her tongue into her cheek as her hands found their places on her hips. Confusion laced into her bones, trickling down the marrow and soaking into her shaking fingertips. Brows knit tightly downward in the midst of her conflict and head thumping for answers, no - no, that was a headache. She was getting a headache.

Taking her son’s shoulders, (Y/n) spun him around to face the way they just came down, “I’ll take care of that tonight, sweetpea, don’t go in here for a little bit, alright? I don’t want you cutting up your feet.”

“Okay, Mama,” Dylan grinned up at the woman, holding Brahms a little tighter in his grasp, “I don’t want Brahms to get hurt either.”

“That’s very nice of you,” she cooed, taking his cheek between thumb and forefinger and pinching gently, “What a good little boy I have.”

Beaming at the praise, the mother-son duo didn’t even notice the panel in the wall rolling back and it’s spidery tendons creeping around the curve of the wall’s edge. Instead, they giggled over nothing as (Y/n) took her son’s small, fragile hands into her own and puppeteered him down the stairs. Doll boy Brahms left to sit on the landing of the house’s flight until somebody, anybody, picked him up.

Passing the portrait of another family was easy enough despite how creepy it seemed. They’d have to take it down, feeling like a guest in one’s own home was never appreciated. Then again, neither were pests in your walls, especially when you didn’t know about them yet.

~~

“Sleep tight, sweetie,” (Y/n) blew one final kiss to her son before closing the bedroom door to her own room.

“Wait,” Dylan whined, stopping his mother in the motion, “Brahms is still gone…”

The woman pursed her lips, “I know, I know. Just try to sleep without him for now, okay? We’ll probably find him tomorrow morning.”

Pouting, the boy kicked his legs out slightly before nodding solemnly, “Alright…”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she smiled tenderly at the child before shutting the bedroom door genuinely. Turning to her other son, (Y/n) forced a much faker smile onto her lips, “And thank you for your upcoming sacrifice.”

“I never said it was a sacrifice,” Joey grumbled, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, “You’re just dramatic.”

“Incorrect,” (Y/n) turned her boy around with a few small pats on the shoulder, descending the stairs as a pair until they reached the comically large portrait of a family that wasn’t their own.

Her hand settled against the groove of the curvy golden frame, the other resting against the painted surface as she and her son lifted the painting from the wall.

“Shit,” Joey hissed, assisting his mother in her lifting, “this thing’s heavy. Really heavy.”

“Probably wasn’t meant to be taken off the wall,” the woman reasoned with her son, muscles straining in their removal of the ridiculously big painting.

As the woman handled the painting, deciding to let it rest on the floor. Her backbones screamed as she slowly bent at the knee to lower the portrait of the wealthy family. Knuckles and joints beginning to ache as she did so.

“Mom…?” Joey muttered, voice much smaller and more fragile than she was accustomed to.

“Yeah?” she gruffed, finally letting the painting down completely. Her hands came to press on her tailbone ever so gently, practically already feeling next morning’s soreness, “Something wrong?”

“Only if you think a human-sized hole in the wall is a problem?” the boy chuckled dryly.

“A what?”

Turning swiftly, (Y/n) was quickly faced with exactly what her eldest son had just described to her. A human-sized hole in their wall. Large enough to fit a six-foot person, maybe they’d have to duck, but the fact remained. Her hands reached out for the edges of where the frame met the actual wall. She turned her head both ways, it was dark but when her eyes adjusted she could tell that there was a clear path running through the wall. Pulling her head back out, (Y/n) nodded towards the hole.

“I’ll go first, you follow.”

“Fine.”

Stepping into the hole, she noted how disgustingly crisp the air felt, it reminded her of being trapped in the pantry. It made her question what ways were waiting to be opened up by creeping little fingers inside that quiet, confined space. Her skin bumped and hairs raised at the thought of whoever had made these pathways still being inside the house. But that was insane, not a chance that somebody could live inside the walls of a manor without anybody finding out. There’d be too many creeks.

And suddenly she was remembering being locked in the pantry again, when those loud creeks were cracking into her ears and her sons had still been asleep. Her sons had still been asleep.

(Y/n) stopped, glad that her son’s eyes, though faltering, had adjusted to the dark well enough so he wouldn’t bump into her, “You’re sure you didn’t lock me in the pantry, right? There’s no way you were sleepwalking or anything?”

It was silent, so silent that there was a deafening buzz drumming into her ears.

“Joey?”

Again, all she was met with was the droning, consistent blare of buzzing in her ears.

“Joseph, I’m not playing with you.”

Once more, she was hit with buzzing.

“Joseph,” (Y/n) turned around, not meeting the eyes of her sixteen-year-old bookworm son, but instead with a stained, smelly, thin white shirt.

It hung low enough to expose the oddly shiny slick of sweat glistening over a hairy chest. Her breath grew rapid, fear racing through her body as she shook her head.

Looking up, her gut was wrenched at the dirtied prosthetic mask angled as if the person behind it was looking down upon her, as though she were a frightened rabbit. Now that she thought about it, she was a frightened, shaking little rabbit.

“Where’s my son?” when there was no response, she tossed herself into his body, attempting to push past him, “Joseph?! Dylan?!”

The arms of the secret man in her walls wrapped around her, squeezing tightly. One arm abandoned her waist, scrambling for something a little ways behind them, when he found it, the arm raised above her head.

“Joseph?!” she sobbed weakly, beginning to choke on her own nasty cocktail of tears and mucus, “Dylan?!”

A thwack left no more screaming to be heard, the tall man dropping his makeshift club in favor of picking the woman up as though she were his cute, delicate bride. 

Brahms turned, heading back for the largest panel of the walls with (Y/n) dangling limply in his arms.

~~

Finally coming to, (Y/n) sputtered in a soft muffle, eyesight unclear and spotting in the corners. The spots and blotches eventually leveled and began to mop themselves into one concise picture of the kitchen. She let out a soft hiss, wrists stinging when she suddenly realized that there were ropes binding her arms back and to her chair. 

Head toppling to the left, a snoring Joey was also tied down with his glasses already having slipped from his nose. Crashed onto the floor and shattered, it reminded her of her youngest son’s room; her youngest son.

She looked over to her right, spotting an empty wicker chair immediately beside her and Dylan after that. Dylan was leaning far back, head resting on his shoulder and mouth having fallen open to let out quiet whimpers and whines as though even in Dreamland, he was frightful. 

Finally, she looked forward, squinting at the collection of chairs in front of her. They were chairs, obviously, nothing too interesting about that but it’s what was in the chairs that alarmed her. Pillows conjoined together by stolen articles of clothing ranging from Joey’s shirt to her favorite dress and skirt and Dylan’s sweatshirt. Between her pillow copy and Dylan’s was the Brahms doll; staring ahead silently. Watching. Always watching.

A high-pitched, airy, childlike voice rang in her ear, it didn’t match the fully grown man standing behind Dylan. Brahms, the real Brahms, pat the boy’s blond hair before ruffling Joey’s untamed dark tresses, “Little brother… big brother…” he moved behind (Y/n), his hands settling on her shoulders before his mask moved to press it’s  cold, hard lips against the goosebumped, terrified skin of her neck, “Mommy…”

Sitting down in the empty chair, Brahms smiled beneath his mask, staring into the dead, glassy eyes of his doll before letting his voice take on the deeper octave more appropriate of an adult.

“Daddy…”

[marvelslut16]

I told you so

Prompt number: 11 “I told you so”

Fandom: Marvel

Paring: Steve Rogers x reader (college au)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Swearing probably. Angsty. Sharon Carter kinda being a bitch. idk if it’s a warning but both Sharon and Peggy are in this, just imagine they’re cousins or something. 

A/N: I was in my feelings today and I was feeling extremely angsty so here it is. If it sucks, I’m sorry. I was pretty sad today and couldn’t snap out of it. I almost didn’t post it. 

You had met him the first day of your sophomore year of college, your alarm hadn’t gone off so you barely made it to your state and local government class at NYU. Your major currently undecided, but leaning towards political science, you have always taken an interest in politics. The only empty seat was next to an extremely attractive blonde man, with blue eyes, and who’s built like a god- no doubt a part of some fraternity. 

Through the semester you got to know this blonde Adonis; he’s a junior in the political science program, not in a fraternity but lives in an apartment with his best friend Bucky off campus, he’s on the cross country team, on the track and field team, boxes at the local YMCA at least three times a week, and takes art classes as his elective- and he’s freakishly talented at it. 

He quickly grew to be one of your best friends, you’d hang out with him and Bucky, your best friend and dormmate Natasha would join you three. You'd also go to every running meet of his, and gallery his art is shown at. You’re his biggest supporter and he’s yours, he goes to everything you do and acts like you’re the best one there.

There’s an art showcase they have at the University every year, the winner gets a scholarship for the following year, second place gets a scholarship for a semester, and third place gets a gift certificate for the school’s bookstore. Steve finally worked up the courage to submit his work, after you joined Bucky’s efforts to persuade him to enter. Steve went to you immediately after finding out that his drawing was selected for the showcase. He refused to tell you what the drawing was, saying you’d find out at said showcase. 

Steve told you to dress fancy, so you wear your finest dress. He has on his best suit, a gorgeous navy blue color. You’re practically glued to his side the entire night, and you're in shock when you come across his submission. It’s a gorgeous drawing of you leaning up against a tree in the courtyard, textbook open on your lap, and your head is thrown back laughing at something. You remember this day vividly, it was one of the first times you had done something with Steve outside of class. Granted it was still class related since you were studying for an upcoming test, but every great friendship has to start somewhere. 

It comes as no surprise when Steve wins first place that night, the colors are so vivid, and the drawing so lifelike you’re waiting for it to move. You smile fondly at Steve, not only does he deserve the scholarship for his drawing ability, but because he really needs the money. His mom has cancer and is going through treatment, so he gives her almost all of the money he makes from working. 

As soon as Steve finds out he wins, you’re wrapped up in his strong arms and he’s spinning you around. Everyone around you thinks it's an embrace of two lovers, especially once they realize you're the woman in the drawing. Although you think he made you look too perfect in it. 

After that night Bucky teases Steve relentlessly for having feelings for you and Natasha tries to get you to admit your feelings for Steve on a daily basis. It comes as a shock to both Bucky and Natasha when you get a boyfriend that isn’t Steve. Bucky resents you slightly after that because you’re hurting the man that’s practically his brother, and Natasha is upset that you obviously aren’t following your heart.  Steve becomes your confidant, you start to tell him everything that’s wrong in your relationship because you want advice. He takes it like a champ and always gives you the best advice he can for whatever problem you have that day. 

Your relationship is obviously toxic, but you think it’s just a possessive love. He doesn’t want you to Steve but you don’t let that stop you. You still show up to everything he’s a part of, and you still sit next to him in classes you purposely took together. The only difference is that Steve no longer comes to everything you do, he doesn’t randomly show up to your work to surprise you anymore, he no longer sends you cute I miss you texts when you’re too sick to show up to class with him. 

“You need to tell him,” Natasha whines, looking up from her textbook to look at you. You roll your eyes at her and some snooty student studying near you shushes her, to which she so eloquently gives him the finger. 

“Why would I do that, Nat?” the student shushes you now. You give him both fingers, to which he slams his book with a huff and storms away from yours and Nat’s table. 

“Well Bucky says-” the redhead lets out a little laugh at your interaction with the snooty student. 

“Bucky, huh?” you smirk at your best friend and send her a little wink. She doesn’t outright admit it, but you know she has feelings for the dark haired man. “You two have been spending a lot of time together recently.”

“That’s not the point,” the usually calm, collected, nothing can shake me hard ass grows red in the cheeks. A small grin appears on your face, they’re really cute together and you want the both of them to be happy. “You should tell Steve how you feel, (Y/N). You’re single again and he obviously likes you.”

“No he doesn’t,” you scoff at her to try to dull the aching pain in your chest. It hurts every time someone tells you Steve likes you, you know that’s not true and you have to try to convince yourself you’re okay with that. 

Before you can continue, a mop of dark brown locks sits beside Nat. you grin widely at the two as Bucky lazily slings his arm over the back of her chair, Natasha’s cheeks practically match her hair. 

“Hey doll, hey (Y/N/N),” Bucky greets the two of you. Your grin turns into a shit eating one at the cute interaction in front of you. “So what’re ya ladies talking about today?”

“How (Y/N) needs to finally tell Steve how she feels, especially since she’s single now,” Nat seems to recover from her blushing stupor just so she can tease you back. 

“The punk’s crazy about ya,” Buck looks at you with nothing but sincerity. “You should tell him.”

“Guys, he’s not. He’s way out of my league and he could have any woman, or man, he wants,” your heart hurts a little more watching Bucky’s arm slide off the chair and onto Nat’s shoulders. You’re never going to get that with Steve. “Sharon told me-”

“Not the Sharon thing again,” Nat whines, head quietly thumping on Bucky’s arm as she throws it back dramatically. 

“What Sharon thing?” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes flick between the two of you. 

“It’s stupid,” Nat rolls her eyes at the ceiling. 

“She told me that Steve would never like me that way, that I wasn’t good enough,” you hold up your hand to stop Bucky when you see he’s about to protest your words. “I know I’m too annoying and not pretty enough, or smart enough. I accepted it long before Sharon told me, she just reaffirmed my sentiments.”

“Sharon’s just a jealous bitch,” Bucky huffs. “She likes Steve but she knows he’s head over heels for you. Hell, Peggy likes him too and Sharon belittles her. (Y/N/N), you’ve gotta tell him how you feel.”

“He deserves to know,” Nat reaches her hand out to grab yours gently. “And you deserve to be happy.”

For some strange reason you’re fueled with confidence by their words. He deserves to know and you deserve to finally be open about your feelings. Your eyes make a quick sweep of the library as you start to stand from your seat to go find him. But your eyes lock on one thing, legs briefly giving out and you fall back to your seat with a quiet gasp. Bucky and Nat follow your line of sight, still glued to the thing that’s breaking your heart into a million pieces. Pressed up against a row of shelving is Peggy Carter, attached to her lips is Steve Rogers. Her hands are tangled in his blonde hair, based on the awkward angles it’s sticking out at, she’s tugging on the strands. His hands are gripping her hips tightly, his lower half holding her firmly between him and the stacks. 

“I told you so,” your voice cracks, but you refuse to let your tears fall in front of your friends. 

As soon as you're away from them, away from Steve, the tears start to flow. Silently at first but they quickly start to pick up. You rush into the second nearest bathroom, hoping if Nat followed you she’d only check the first one. Once in the bathroom you check to make sure all the stalls are empty, finding out they are, you lock the door to the entire bathroom. 

You press your back to the door right as your knees give out again, sliding onto the floor. You don’t care about how gross it is, all you can focus on is the burning aching feeling in your chest. Finally alone you let out a loud gut wrenching sob, you’re mind replaying the few seconds you saw of Steve and Peggy attached at the lips.

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[elena-reina]

Jeff - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: Hey,requests are open,right?If so can I have a draco and slytherin reader in which she is a muggleborn and she is quiet,shy and they have a crush on each other and when she sees draco bullying a kid from (any house) she defends the kid and he just suddenly kisses her and it's just fluffy basically. - lespaceboi

Warnings: None

It was a stormy day at Hogwarts and you had got caught in the rain. Your Y/H/C hair was sticking to the sides of your face as you attempted to shield away the howling rain with your hand. 

Even though the rain would have been a bother to everyone else, it wasn’t a bother to you; you saw the beauty in everything. It was still early when the grey clouds gifted the Earth of its rain to the grass and trees, A sense of cleanliness caresses the atmosphere, washing away all impurities. A dense earthly sweet smell rises from the ground, enveloping everything within its soft embrace

Rounding onto an abandoned corridor, your footsteps splashed against the paved concrete, leaving an echo with each step. You could hear kids laughing in the background, running around as their parents would laugh with them having fun.

The spirit almost reminded you of home when you were able to sit on the couch with some hot tea in your hands as your sister danced around the kitchen making chocolate cookies. Your dad would play around with your younger brother and play soccer in the rain as your mom would playfully scold them telling them they were going to catch a cold if they didn’t come inside soon. Both your mom and dad were human, so it confused you as to how you possessed any magical ability; coming to find out later that your grandma was a witch when she was younger.

Snapping you out of your trance just as you were at the end of the walkway, a voice caught your attention.

“Lookin’ at me funny were you?” a voiced sneered.

You froze hearing that familiar voice. Slowly creeping forward, you peeked your head over the edge just enough to see Draco cornering what appears to be a second year Hufflepuff named Jeff.

“I wasn’t, I swear,” Jeff spoke fearfully. He didn’t know what to do, “W-What do you want?” 

Your heart ached, but you didn’t know whether it was for Jeff or Draco. Jeff was still fairly new to the Hogwarts life and he reminded you of your younger brother solely because they both had chubby cheeks with freckles on them. However since you were put into more classes with Draco, you slowly developed a fondness over him. You noticed the way his hair would shine brighter than it already was in the sunlight, the way the apple of his eyes would raise as he did another number of his famous smirks, or even how he always had to squint when reading whatever was written on the board in class.

But you were muggleborn. Almost anyone and everyone knew that a Malfoy would never get with anything to do with a muggle. Especially someone to be “disgraced” and put into the Slytherin house as muggleborn.

Or so you thought.

Jeff was clutching an old, wornout book from the library to his chest. Draco ran a hand through his platinum hair before bringing it down and snatching the book right out of his hand faster than you would have expected to be possible.

“Stop!” he cried out, reaching forward trying to grab the book, but he was too fast.

Knowing enough is enough, you stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder gently. He craned his neck and locked eyes with yours.

Gosh his eyes were so dreamy-

“What?” he said turning around. Jeff remained stiff with his back against the wall, fearful.

You awkwardly cleared your throat. Confrontation was never your thing, you preferred to stay in the shadows, but you also always had to do the right thing.

“Can you uhm... can you give me the book?” you mumbled, shyly.

He smirked, amused.

“Sorry, what was that?” he joked leaning forward a bit, pushing his ear towards you with his index finger.

You nibbled on the bottom of your lip.

“I said,” you said a bit louder, but then decreased in volume with each word, “Can I have the book...?”

“Yeah, sorry Y/N,” he chuckled, “You’re gonna have to speak louder than that.”

Oh gosh, he knew your name. You felt your cheeks warming up as a blush crept onto them.

He knew what you were saying, every word as a matter of fact. But he loved to see you flushed and not knowing what to do with yourself. You looked adorable in his eyes, and he wanted to carry it out for as long as he could.

“She said-,” Jeff spoke up. Whipping his head around, glaring at him Draco spoke.

“Shut it before I make you.” He turned back to face you, “Now, what was it?”

“Draco. Give me the book,” you demanded aloud this time. Louder than you’ve ever spoken before. He raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Well, why would I want to do that?” he spoke lowly, getting closer to you to intimidate you.

 Was it working?

Yes.

Very much so.

You stifled a light scream. “Because... Because it belongs to Jeff. Hand it over,” you said trying to remain brave, but ultimately you knew he wasn’t phased.

He smirked. 

“I’ll give it to you for a kiss-”

“Wha-What?!” you exclaimed, but slapped your hand over your mouth. You didn’t mean to speak so loud.

Without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Despite him saying that he was going to kiss you, it still surprised you. His lips molded perfectly with yours as he slowly pulled away.

He handed you the book as you barely felt your finger tips brush against the fabric of the book, almost dropping it. Gasping, you firmly grabbed onto the book and back at Draco.

You were at a loss for words. “Draco, I... we just... you-”

“Can I have my book back?” Jeff peeped.

[bffsoobin]

Windflower

 01|02|03|04|05|06

↳ after a heartbreak you find yourself in a small town looking for purpose. you find employment with Choi Soobin and his impressive ancestral home. when you start to fall in love again, there’s no way for you to predict what you find in the depths of the home and Soobin’s mind.

➤ hanahaki au, fluff, angst

Warnings: probably some swearing, lowkey boring plot(still world and character building), awkwardness

Word Count: 1,537

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Wooden floors groaned underneath your feet as Soobin guided you into his home. A cooling rush of air conditioning almost distracted you from the floor to ceiling windows that occupied a whole wall in the living room. A full view of the beautiful garden stood on display, the flowers merging together as if they were living and breathing as one. Soobin must have noticed your wonder but chose not to comment, simply waiting behind you as you marveled. You could see your own reflection in the glass, and you thought for a moment you could see him watching you with a grin on his face behind you. Admonishing yourself for thinking he was staring at you, you turned away from the impressive garden and smiled politely. 

Soobin showed you the kitchen and dining room- a few dishes and open packages of snacks on the counters giving away the relatively young age of your new employer. He toured you through the library where mahogany bookshelves built into the wall were overflowing with books. Even more plants dotted the space, succulents and indoor climbing plants hanging from the ceiling, and sitting on almost every free space. Your wrist began to hurt thinking of all the plant watering you had signed yourself up for. Soobin enthused about every room in the hulking home, running his veined hands on the walls and stopping to point at various photos of his relatives. After your extensive tour of the estate, your head was spinning with all of the information he had just thrown your way. 

“So this would be your room,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not really decorated or anything, but there’s a store in town you can go to.” The room before you was bigger than your old kitchen and living room combined, and it included an ensuite bathroom with a beautiful marble bathtub. A thin layer of dust laid on the counter by the sink, but it was nothing a quick clean couldn’t fix. Soobin remained nervously leaning on the doorway as you explored. The bedroom was fairly barren in the way that it only held basic furniture and there were no decorations on the walls- but the sheets on the bed were clean and soft under your fingertips. A bay window with a cushioned seat overlooked the sprawling garden and let in filtered sunlight. When you looked back at Soobin, he was picking at the skin on his fingers and worrying his plump lower lip between his teeth. 

“Soobin,” you began, watching the way his eyes widened adorably at the mention of his name; there was no way to fight the fluttering in your chest. “This is great, thank you.” You caught a glimpse of his dimpled grin as he turned around to leave the room. Idly, you remembered all of your belongings packed into your car. “Hey, can you uh...if I park my car inside the gates, would you be able to help me bring my stuff up?” You hated the amount of giddiness that rose in your voice at the thought of him helping you. Soobin nodded enthusiastically, standing aside so that you could lead the way out to your car. 

Once you were parked on the property, you opened all of the doors to your car and began to gather up everything you had thrown into your car. Flashes of the pain that possessed you to leave everything behind played in your mind. You faltered as you turned away from the car with an armful of loose belongings. Thankfully, Soobin’s reflexes were fast enough to catch you before your face made contact with the grass below you. A surprised gasp left your mouth as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your waist to hold you steady. Your forehead collided with the firm plane of his chest and your heart swelled at his scent this close. His gaze didn’t leave yours as you made eye contact and you took the seconds to marvel at just how deep and beautiful they looked under his hooded lids. 

“You have to be careful, bub,” you flushed at the nickname and pretended he didn’t notice despite the tiny smirk on his lips. His arms remained around your waist as the two of you tried to restart your brains and detach from one another. As soon as he let go, you rushed to pick up the items you had dropped on the ground and scurried back up to your room. Soobin lending a helping hand made short work of unloading your car, and you were able to begin unpacking into your new bedroom. Your new boss and housemate had hung around until you convinced him that you could unpack your things on your own. 

In the middle of your unpacking, you realized just how grimy you had become since rolling into town. The grand bathtub called your name and you decided that you could do for a luxurious bath. As the tub filled with water, you made sure to close the door to your room before you stripped out of your clothes. Offhandedly, you recalled the location of the laundry room as you dropped your garments in a pile on the floor. Your favorite playlist rung through the air as water splashed against the marble tub until you deemed it full enough. Without the extra noise, your music dominated the atmosphere as you took to cleaning yourself up. Bubbles floated on the surface of the water as you indulged in using your lavender shampoo and conditioner followed by your favorite vanilla scented body wash. You even used the razor you had perched on the side of the tub while unpacking earlier and shaved your legs for the first time since you uprooted your life. As the water turned cold, you stood up to exit the tub and soon realized your grave mistake. You didn’t have a towel. It’s okay, you thought; you definitely had some packed in your belongings in the bedroom. Carefully, you stepped out of the bathroom and waddled to your bedroom. Goosebumps raised on your skin as you located the pile of folded towels on the ground beside your bed. With the fluffy material wrapped around you, you bent over to rummage through the drawers. Since you couldn’t remember which drawer held which type of clothing, you had to rummage through several spots before you finally located a bra and underwear you could put on. With the garments in hand, you turned around to head back in the bathroom and gasped at what you saw. 

The door was wide open and Soobin stood in the space, mouth gaping open at your state. A shriek ripped from your throat before you could contain it, making him jump in his spot as you scrambled to toss your lacy underwear out of your hand. Soobin was sputtering, eyes locked on the offensive garment as it landed messily on the bed. 

“Soobin!” you yelled his name, brain trying and failing to think of the right response to his startling presence. His face was beet red and he was fidgety, mouth hanging open; akin to the look of a small child being found out for breaking their mom’s vase. “Close your mouth and get out!” pure adrenaline pumped through your veins as you yelled at the man. He squeaked and jumped to the side, moving out of the doorway and leaving you to bathe in embarrassment alone. “At least close the door, genius!” The heavy wood door shutting rang in your ears as you started to change. Your hands were shaking as you picked up the underwear Soobin had been eyeing so critically. It hung off of your pinkie as you examined it as if you were trying to decipher if putting on the light blue lace was poisonous. The look on his face was etched in your mind as you dressed completely and stalked to the bathroom to brush through your hair. A knock sounded on your door. 

“Y/N?” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Are you...can I come in?” A smile crept onto your face at the sheepish tone in his voice. How was he so damn charming? 

“Yeah, you can come in.” The doorknob turned and the atmosphere in the room shifted as soon as he spotted your now fully clothed form. 

“Look, I’m so sorry. I just came up to ask you about dinner and you were-” the words seemed to get caught in his throat. You contemplated for a minute; as you could play this one of two ways. One, you could yell at him for just busting into your room unannounced and staring like an idiot until you yelled. Two, you could take advantage of his flustered and apologetic form to build your relationship. It only took a few seconds for you to decide on the latter. Soobin stood frozen as you approached him with a smile. You placed a hand on one of his crossed arms and hoped he couldn’t feel that your palms were clammy. 

“It’s okay, Soobin. You didn’t know. I forgive and forget, especially since we have to live together. Now what did you say about dinner?”

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

The Long Game ch. 6

Soren ran a hand through his hair, checking his teeth as he looked in the mirror.  Rayla had agreed to go to the market in town with him and there was no way he was going to mess it up.  He’d been pining for Rayla for too long.  “Done looking at yourself, Soren?”

Soren’s back straightened immediately and he turned to see his father, disapproval clear on his face. “Just getting ready for my date, Dad.”

“With Rayla, I presume.”

Soren grinned.  “Yep.  She actually agreed to going somewhere with me.”

Viren nodded, walking up to Soren.  It was quiet for a few tense moments, Viren casting him a critical eye.  “Make sure you get her attention and keep it.  Rayla is Harrow’s ward and Claudia is trying to get Prince Callum to give her the proper attention she deserves as a lady of her station.  Our connection as a family can only strengthen if at least one of you marries one of them.”

Soren’s brows furrowed. “But, I like Rayla for Rayla. Besides, it’s not like Callum and Rayla like each other.”

Viren scoffed as he shook his head.  “Are you that blind?  Do whatever you must do, Soren, but make sure you get Rayla’s attention and keep it.” Viren moved to leave the room, pausing at the door.  “And, Soren,” Soren looked over at him, “make sure that, no matter what, you have the needs of the family in mind at all times.  After all, the three of us only have each other.”

Soren gulped.  “We have Harrow, Ezran, and Callum.  Even Amaya-”

“How did I raise a fool for a son?”  Soren clamped his mouth shut, looking down at the ground.  “Harrow is trying to force us out.  So is Amaya and Callum.”

“They just don’t like dark magic.  If you and Claudia stopped, it would be fine, Dad.”

“And risk the elves coming in and killing us all?  Stop practicing our main means of defense?  I don’t think so.”

Soren stayed quiet as Viren went on about the history of dark magic and all the good it’s done. He’d heard this a million times before.  Soren didn’t really get Callum and Rayla’s or even Harrow and Amaya’s hang-ups with dark magic, but he also didn’t get why his family was so enamored by it.  It was a tool, right?  Only good or bad depending on how it was used.  His father had once healed his sickly body so he could be a crown guard while dark magic was also responsible for loss of life.  “Got to go, Dad,” Soren mumbled, walking out.  

There was only so much of Viren he could take anymore.  Something had changed in his father since the day he and Harrow had left to kill the Dragon King.  He mumbled to himself far more than before, looked at mirrors more, and had even started becoming obsessed with primal magic to a degree Soren couldn’t remember his father being.  It was almost like he was a man possessed, but, perhaps, that obsession had always existed in Viren.

Soren smiled when he saw Rayla waiting for him in the courtyard, her long hair in a side braid and her long legs clad in pants.  Even leaning against a wall, hands in her pockets, she gave an air of knowing everything that was happening around her.  She almost felt dangerous some days, like she was watching and waiting for a chance to do something.

He was about to shout out a greeting to her when he saw the soft smile on her face directed at Callum, who Soren was only now noticing was also there.  Callum had his sketchbook open and was gesturing wildly with his hands. Rayla nodded along, her head thrown back and laughing at something Soren was too far away to hear.  He was about to announce his presence when Callum reached out a hand and lightly stroked Rayla’s cheek.  Soren paused, watching while Rayla’s eyes moved to Callum’s lips and she didn’t swat his hand away.  

Even from where he was, Soren could sense the unspoken tension and want in the air between Rayla and Callum.  Callum leaned in a tad before pulling away, his hand also falling.  Rayla stayed still, eyes still locked on his.  Their lips moved and Soren caught a few words: ‘sorry’, ‘dirt’, ‘fun’.  Callum finally moved away, walking towards the castle and away from Rayla, though she watched him go with longing in her blue eyes.

Soren’s eyes narrowed for a moment before sighing.  Well, his father may have been right, but maybe this date would change her mind. The look she gave him when she noticed his presence was friendly, but not filled with the same longing he had seen in her before.  “Hey, Soren. We ready to go?”

Soren nodded.  “Yep.  I’m surprised you even agreed to come with me.”

Rayla shrugged.  “I need a gift for Ezran’s birthday. Besides, you tend to be decent company most days.”

Soren grinned, running a hand through his hair.  “Oh? Only decent?”

Rayla nodded.  “Yep.  Trust me, that’s a compliment.”  They went through the town and looked for gifts for Ezran.  They chatted and mumbled about what he would and wouldn’t like, bemoaning how hard it was to shop for a kid who could have anything he wanted with the snap of his fingers but always said he didn’t want anything.  “I knew I should have asked Callum to come.  He’s so much better at this than I am.”

Soren shrugged.  “Yeah, the step-prince is good at that.”

Ralya’s whole demeanor went icy, slowly turning to him.  “Why do you keep calling him that?  It’s not nice.  You’re better than that, Soren.”

“Well, I’ve known him almost our whole lives and-”

“I don’t care.  He’s the prince.  Even if he’s not the heir, that doesn’t change that Harrow raised him.”

“I know.  It’s just-. Harrow loves him more than my dad loves me, I think.  I guess it’s a way to make me feel better.”

“Does it really make you feel better?”

“…No.”

“Then stop.”  Soren nodded, hoping Rayla would drop it.  He felt a lot worse now than he had in a while, not only because Rayla was scolding him, but because it was becoming increasingly obvious that Rayla held a soft spot for Callum she simply did not hold for him.  

“OK.”

“Thank you.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because it hurts Callum that you do that.  It’s like you’re trying to keep him down.  I don’t appreciate that, to be honest.  You pick on his insecurities concerning Harrow.  Your parents may have divorced, but you were still raised by your dad. You can’t know what life is like for Callum.”

“What about your parents?” Rayla raised a brow.  “You never talk about them.”

Rayla shrugged.  “What’s there to talk about?  I was raised by them until I was five and then was raised by their two friends.  I get Callum a bit more because I understand wanting that connection.  I get that grief of losing someone you love and not having easy access to people who are willing to or even can talk about them.  Your mom hurt you and your dad is an ass, but don’t take it out on Callum anymore.  Got it?”

“Got it.”  They finally decided on getting Ezran a book on animals that neither had seen in the library to be from Rayla and, from Soren, a new hair oil from Del Bar that was supposed to be good for curls.  They were quiet on the way back to the castle, the comradery gone.  “Are you in love with Callum?” Soren asked.  He had to know.

Rayla didn’t turn to Soren. He couldn’t read her posture or her half-hidden expression.  “People really need to stop pushing us together,” she whispered.  Before Soren could ask anymore, Rayla walked by him with a muttered ‘thank you.’  Soren didn’t know what to make of it, but, as far as he could tell, he still had a shot. Rayla hadn’t said ‘yes’, so maybe, he had misunderstood what he had seen earlier.  Rayla just thought of Callum as a good friend.  He hadn’t gotten confirmation that it was a date, but he hadn’t been told it wasn’t one either.  It was his first big victory in his plans to finally court the elusive ward of Katolis.

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

“FUCK!” Rayla screamed in her pillow when she finally got to her room. “Damn the Sources!”  Rayla raised her eyes and looked at the moon. Even Soren had figured it out.  Were the gods mocking her?  If even Soren had picked up on her being in love with Callum, how long would it be before this became too difficult to keep to herself?  Could she even fulfill her mission?

Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks as she tried to control her breathing.  She wasn’t so sure she could fulfill her mission anymore. Ezran didn’t deserve to die.  She knew that.  He clearly had no knowledge that the Dragon King was even dead or what had happened to the egg.  As for Harrow, well, Rayla wasn’t sure how much of the plot against the Dragon King was him and how much of it was Viren.  This was why she had come, wasn’t it?  To gather information…but the hit was out for Harrow and Ezran.  If they didn’t die, then Viren and Soren had to die.  Viren probably deserved it, but Soren?  No, Soren hadn’t been there and while Rayla had her suspicions that Soren and Claudia knew what had happened, she wasn’t so sure that they were involved or even approved of it.

Rayla lay in bed for hours, her mind awash in confusion.  She had a mission.  She had to fulfill the mission, even if she thought it was wrong.  Rayla turned back to the moon.  But Callum…was she willing to throw away a future with him for the mission?  If she just let go, could she be happy with him?  Would she even be able to hide the truth for that long?  Probably not.  Their children would be halflings.  How would she explain that?  Why did this have to be so complicated?  

‘I never should have come here.  I’m messing up.  I messed up. I feel in love with the target’s son…I’m worse than my parents.’  Rayla didn’t dare think it, but she couldn’t deny the truth any longer: if Callum told her he loved her and wanted to be with her, she would abandon her old life and stay with him as long as he was willing to have her.  Surprisingly, it was a lot more freeing to admit to herself than to keep locked up in her heart.  Perhaps, the time was coming for her to go home.  Could she even without completing the mission?

Rayla didn’t sleep that night and no further clarity came to her.  No matter what choice she made, she was leaving behind those she loved.  No matter her decision, someone was going to suffer and she was going to be the cause of it.  As much as she wanted to be with Callum, she also still wanted Runaan and Ethari and even Tiadrin and Lain in her life.  Even though they had betrayed the Dragon King, she still wanted all four of her parents.  But, one thing had become crystal clear to her: the long she stayed, the harder the choice would be.  She had to make a choice soon.  Callum was fast approaching 18, old enough to court under the law and a lot of people were already expecting him to choose her.  Could she give him that choice?  Rayla wasn’t sure, even if that’s what she wanted most in her heart.    

[440mxs-wife]

Just Friends (Part 1)

You had first met the Winchester boys when they were working on a werewolf case near your town. They had come into the library to research their case.

At the time, you were living with your best friend in a small apartment at the edge of town. One night, she was out walking in the woods with her boyfriend. That was the last night you ever saw her, because she and her boyfriend were captured and killed in those woods by the werewolf.

She was wearing your sweater that night, so the werewolf had also caught your scent. It would've made you its next victim if Sam and Dean hadn't shown up in town and killed it. After your best friend's death, you really didn't feel like staying in your shared apartment alone anymore. So, the Winchesters let you move in.

This was not without a loud protest from Dean, though. He didn't want to have to take responsibility for yet another person, especially someone not yet experienced in hunting monsters.

It wasn't just the responsibility factor, either. Dean just didn't seem to like you. He frowned when there were no eggs to go with breakfast, even though you'd already made pancakes and bacon. Instead of blueberry muffins, he wanted banana nut muffins. If you wanted Chinese food, he wanted pizza, and on it went.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were determined to win Dean over. You knew he had an obsession with pie, and your mother was an expert baker. One day, you were slicing apples to make the best damn apple pie Dean had ever tasted. When you had enough apples for the pie, you added the rest of the ingredients to the filling and set it aside. You then turned your attention to making the crust, measuring the flour, adding the eggs and other items.

Sam walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water and looked around for a snack. "What happened to all of the apples?" he asked.

You gave him a sheepish grin and confessed that you had sliced them all for the pie. Sam shook his head and grinned. "Is that for Dean?" he gestured towards the bowl.

"Yep, I don't know what his obsession with pie is, but I'm learning to just go with it," you replied.

"Is there another reason you're doing this?" Sam asked gently.

You stopped what you were doing and looked Sam in the eye. "I'm trying to get Dean to like me, because I don't think he does. All we ever do is disagree on just about everything. If I say movie, he wants to listen to music," you finished.

"He does like you. Dean sometimes takes a while to warm up to people," Sam explained. "Give him a chance, he'll come around. That pie is a step in the right direction, though. Can't wait to taste it," he winked as he headed back to the library.

An hour and a half later, you pulled a perfectly baked apple pie out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool. You went back to your room to gather your dirty clothes so you could start a load of laundry. Then you planned on getting lost in a book for a while until the pie had a chance to completely cool.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean followed the scent of cinnamon to the kitchen, where his eyes beheld the glorious sight of a freshly baked apple pie sitting on the counter. He wondered where it had come from, and decided to have a slice. He cut himself a generous piece and slid it onto a plate. He took the first bite and was in heaven. "Hey Sam?" he hollered.

Sam came over to see what Dean was shouting about, and you followed close behind. "What, Dean?" he asked.

"Where did this pie come from? It's phenomenal!" he raved.

"I made it this afternoon," you answered, a shy smile gracing your face.

"Oh. Maybe you could put in a little more sugar and cinnamon next time, hmm?" he said.

Your smile fell at hearing one more thing you couldn't seem to do right for Dean to like you. "Sorry, I'll try to remember that next time. Excuse me," you murmured, hurrying off to your room.

Sam angrily turned on his older brother. "What the hell, Dean? She worked really hard on that pie FOR YOU. She's convinced herself that you don't like her, which you clearly don't if you can't see how much you hurt her just now. She made that pie to try and get you to like her. So for once, you'd have one damn piece of common ground where you're not disagreeing on everything."

"She went to all that trouble just to make this for me?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and judging by how you criticized her efforts, I would say you can probably count on her never doing it again. If I were her, I sure as hell wouldn't," Sam retorted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean walked over to your door and he could swear he heard crying. He softly knocked and waited to see if you would answer.

"I'm sleeping, Dean," you answered, your voice still thick with emotion.

"No you're not, and I'm coming in," he replied, not waiting for your response. When he opened the door, he wasn't prepared to see your usually bright hazel eyes full of tears.

"Dean, I told you I was sleeping. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I know you don't like me, so I'll just stay out of your way from now on. Okay? Good talk, then. Goodnight," you said, trying to push him out of your room.

He braced his arms on either side of the doorway, preventing you from pushing him away. "Wait. I want--no, I need--you to know something," he started.

"What, Dean? Please tell me so I can go back to sleep," you pleaded.

"I'm sorry for what I said about the pie. It really was the best I've ever had. I didn't know you could bake like that," Dean remarked.

"Well, there's a lot you don't know about me. Like you should know I was taught how to bake by the best, my mom, who was taught by her mom, and so on," you explained. "I'm glad you liked the pie. I hope you're not apologizing just so I won't stop baking them for you," you replied warily.

Dean chuckled. "No, I was really apologizing. For that, and for the way I've been treating you since you got here. So, this may be a little late, but welcome to the team," he said, holding his hand out for you to shake.

"Friends, then. Or at least want-to-get-to-know-you-better people," you teased, drawing a smile from the elder Winchester. "Goodnight, Dean," you said softly and closed the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next few months, you asked to be trained to become a hunter. You had self-defense sessions with both Sam and Dean, research with Sam and weapons practice with Dean. In between training sessions, you spent time getting to know the boys a little better, and they got to learn more about you.

As time went on, you found yourself having certain thoughts about Dean that weren't there before. At first, you tried to push those thoughts down, talk yourself out of it, that what you were feeling wasn't what you thought it was. However, the longer it went on, the harder and harder it was to deny it: you were in love with Dean Winchester.

What made matters complicated is when you went to the bar after finishing a hunt. You knew how the night was going to end. Dean would be cozied up to some bar chick that had the hair, eyes, legs and a butt to die for, and you were just....you.

It did little to change your feelings towards Dean, though, because you valued his friendship and his happiness above all else. However, it still stung, because you were hoping Dean would see that these women didn't appreciate him the way you did.

You saw past his mossy green eyes that seemed to look directly into your soul. His well-defined chest with the anti-possession tattoo on it. His strong but gentle hands that gave you goosebumps each time they touched yours in passing. Past his tough-guy outside to the kind, thoughtful and honorable man he was underneath.

One night after coming home from a wendigo hunt, you, Sam and Dean were at the bar in town, as usual. Dean had brought back to the table a beer for each of you and excused himself to the restroom. Sam watched you as you absently twirled your beer bottle without drinking it.

"So, when are you going to tell him?" he asked.

"Tell who, what Sam?" you responded cautiously.

"Tell Dean that you are in love with him," Sam replied.

"That's ridic--" you started.

"Oh come on, I'm not blind. Neither is Cas, and he said something first," Sam explained.

"Castiel knows?" you whispered. "I'm just fooling myself anyway, Sam. Dean doesn't see me as anything but a friend. Doesn't change the way I feel about him, though," you said softly.

"Listen, any man would be lucky to have you look at him the way you look at Dean. He's just too hard-headed to notice. I know I would be lucky, but you love Dean, not me. You should tell him," Sam advised.

"Maybe, Sam. Maybe," you said as you gave him a quick smile and excused yourself to the restroom. As you rounded a corner, you nearly stumbled into a couple with their arms wrapped around each other. You noticed the man was smiling and making serious eye contact with a gorgeous blonde. Then you realized who "he" was. A look of hurt crossed your face as Dean called out your name.

You threw open the restroom door and gripped the sink, trying to steady your nerves. You decided that you'd had enough fun for one night, and that you were going home. As you walked out of the restroom, you overheard Dean's conversation with the blonde.

"Well, who is she? How do you know her? Is she your girlfriend?" the blonde demanded.

"She's someone I work with, I guess you could say we're friends. She's not my girlfriend, we're not involved or anything. It's not like that between us," Dean explained.

Dean did not see you as you walked past him and the blonde, then over to your table. You told Sam you were going home because you were tired. He said he understood and offered to drive you home, but you declined. Sam suspected it was something else that made you want to leave but he didn't say anything. You walked back to the bunker, silently cursing because you'd forgotten your jacket and a cold wind was blowing.

You changed out of your cold clothes, took a shower to warm up and got into your pajamas. Then you locked your bedroom door and crawled in under the covers. You didn't want to talk to anyone about anything that happened in the bar tonight, especially with either Sam or Dean. Silent sobs wracked your body as you lay in bed. Unfortunately, you now had confirmation that Dean wasn't and probably never would be in love with you.

Over the next few weeks, you mostly kept to yourself in your room. When you ate, you took your meals mostly in your room, while doing a lot of reading and watching Netflix. After that night in the bar, you just couldn't face what you felt was pity in Sam's eyes or Dean's indifference. In fact, you realized that it hurt too much to see the boys day after day. You decided that you couldn't stay in the bunker anymore. As soon as you had the place to yourself, you would be packing up and leaving.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the way home from a hunt, Dean shared some of his observations about you with Sam.

"I'm telling you, Sam, something isn't right with her," Dean said. "In the past few weeks, she's hardly come out of her room much, if at all. Even when she does, she hardly says two words to either of us, and that's only when we speak to her first. Plus, I don't think she's eating on a regular basis either. That and....I miss her."

"Really? I had no idea you felt this way, Dean," Sam remarked.

"I've gotten to know her, through her hunter training, and in between sessions. Let me tell you, she's something else. Picks up on new skills after being shown only a couple of times, she's an excellent shot. AND she can almost kick my ass," he chuckled.

"Is that all, Dean? What about off-the-job? How do you feel about her?" Sam asked.

Dean paused for a few moments before answering. "Ah, Sam, she's amazing. Her eyes are so expressive. You can almost tell what she's thinking just by looking in her eyes. Her smile is so genuine and it lights up her whole face. She has a kind heart, she always looks for the best in people, and she definitely doesn't give up on anyone or anything. That much is obvious after the way things started out between us. Most women wouldn't have put up with me or my crap for that long," Dean finished.

"Well, when did you first start noticing that something was ‘off’ with her?" Sam asked.

"There was that night we all went to the bar after that wendigo hunt. I was hanging around with that blonde chick, and....Oh Chuck," Dean said as the color drained from his face.

"What?" said Sam.

"When she walked by me on her way to the restroom, that blonde asked me if she was my girlfriend. I said it wasn't like that between us, that she was someone I worked with, a friend," Dean replied.

"Hmm. She came back to the table and told me she was leaving, that she was tired. I offered to drive her back to the bunker, but she decided to walk. I went to her door to try and talk to her when we got back, but her door was locked and the lights were off," Sam explained.

"She must have overheard what I said to that blonde. Dammit. Try her cell, will you? I've got a bad feeling about this," Dean said grimly.

Sam tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail. "Nothing, no answer," Sam replied, as Dean mashed down the accelerator.

"Dean, what do you think is going on?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, Sam. I just have a bad feeling that for some reason or another, she won't be there when we get home," Dean explained.

[trashboatprince]

No one asked for it, but I’m writing Radio Omens during the Dowlings days.

But they’re not Nanny and Francis, oh no, this time they’re the tutors from the book, Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese.

On ao3, I did post up a drabble I wrote where Nanny and Francis were their own characters, like it’s hinted in the book, and was influenced by my own thing to write this up where the tutors are another version of Crowley and Aziraphale. It’s mentioned in the drabble after that one, but yeah.

So, enjoy the Radio boys doing something dumb.

On with the fic!

--

“I think... that is enough for today.” Harrison sighed through his nose, snapping the book in his hand shut. Warlock looked excited about this and slammed his own book shut.

“Did I do well, Mr. Harrison?” He asked, kicking his feet under the table. They were supposed to be learning about the 100 Years War, but somehow, SOMEHOW... Warlock flipped the history lesson on Harrison and turned it into a blessed maths lecture.

“Yes, now, go and have lunch, I do believe it should be ready now. I think the chef is making your favorite.” He should know, he had ‘suggested’ it to the man, AKA, he made a small threat.

Warlock grinned brightly and rushed from the small library inside of the Dowling estate. The dark-haired man watched him run off before sighing loudly, leaning back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes from behind his shades.

“Troubled, Mr. Harrison?”

Cracking open an eye, he looked at the man who seemed to appear out of nowhere, dressed smartly in dark dress pants and a light button up, dark blond hair brushed to the side, and a smug look on his face.

“Mr. Cortese, what do you want? Your lessons aren’t until tomorrow.” Harrison replied, ignoring the question.

“I came to see what you were teaching the boy today.” He lifted up the history book off the desk, flipping through it. “This is a bit out dated.”

“It’s what the Dowlings bought for his lessons, blame them.”

Cortese chuckled and set the book aside, taking a seat on the table, looking at the other man. The two of them had been hired by their respective bosses, Mr. Crowley and Mr. Aziraphale, to take over on influencing the Antichrist after Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis stepped down.

Speaking of those two, last Harrison heard, they got together after skirting around the subject for so many years.

As for him and his adversary here... well, there was never any skirting about, day one working in the Dowling residence ended up with them making out in the coat closet.

Thin fingers toyed with the tie around the dark-haired man’s neck, his smug look turning more coy. “Mmm, sure, the books they’ve given me are lacking, going to have to get some of my personal collection to give this boy a true lesson on what is right and what is wrong.”

“Heh, you just want an excuse to have access to your own books.” He was quick, pulling Cortese onto his lap, planting a kiss to his neck. “But enough about work, let’s talk you and me, wanna go out this weekend? Don’t think we have to play babysitter for the kid this time.”

Cortese sighed, leaning into the kisses at his skin. “What did you have in mind exactly?”

“My flat, after a nice dinner.”

“You mean your flat, after I have a nice dinner and you’ve drank half your body weight in rich wines.”

“You’ve just improved my plans.” He nipped at the skin, undoing a shirt button-

“Mr. Harrison!” The door to the library was thrown open and Cortese shouted as he was suddenly flung from Harrison’s lap, landing on the floor as Warlock came rushing into the room. “Did I leave my work in here? Mom wants to see what I’ve learned today!”

Harrison blinked, a bit flustered and startled. “Uh... y-yeah, sure, where you left it.”

Warlock grabbed the papers, paying no attention to the man on the floor. “Thanks! See ya!” He ran from the room, happily singing one of his nanny’s old songs to himself as he went down the hall.

“Well... that happened.” Harrison spoke, turning to look at Cortese. “You okay?”

“A warning would be lovely next time, you wily fool!”

“Well, next time I think you should lock the door after entering.” He scoffed, helping the man off the floor. “But for real, are you okay? Didn’t mean to send you flying.”

Cortese dusted himself off before sitting down in his previous spot again, a little harder with his drop, making Harrison huff. He looked at his adversary and removed his shades, looking at the golden eyes he sported. “You owe me for this, my dear boy. I don’t rightly appreciate being sent to the floor, rather rude, if you ask me.”

“Can’t have the boy seeing us doing things a seven year old shouldn’t witness.” Harrison replied as he wrapped his arms around him. “Don’t want him asking his parents why his teachers were doing things that looked much different from hugging and wrestling.”

“I do believe I am the one who told you about that, and yet here you are, trying to leave marks on my neck.” Cortese sighed dramatically.

“Hmph! Gotta make sure people know you have yourself a boyfriend, I know that one security guard was checking you out the other day, don’t think I didn’t see him staring.”

The other man’s smug look was back. “You mean Greg? A sweet boy, always has something nice to say to me.” He felt the grip around him tighten, hearing a growl from the agent of a demon. Cortese chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it when you’re possessive over me, it’s rather charming, kind of cute.”

“Uhg.” Harrison made a face. “Don’t say that.”

“You’re cute.”

“Shut it, angel boy! Or you’ll be smooching the carpet again!”

“And you’ll have to forget all about date night then if you so much as even think of removing me from my perch!”

“... Touche.”

--

If I get any ideas or even suggestions for this version of the Radio Omens boys, I’ll gladly write more. I love writing the TV and the book versions, but Radio Omens needs more love.

[talesofafangirlwithadvr]

MARCH PICKS!!!

Life has gotten VERY crazy over the past couple of weeks (it feels more like months-time is irrelevant now). To escape watching the news again and again I have turned to TV and movies now more than ever. While some of these I watched at the start of the month, when life felt more normal, more have been added since “social distancing” and quarantine. But these are my top choices for the month overall. Some will seem familiar from my top Quarantine picks (check out that article if you’d like here) and that’s because many have been my recent watches. 

Spoilers ahead!

LOCKE AND KEY

I cannot stop talking about this show. It is no way similar to this, but I feel like I have not loved a Netflix show like this since Derry Girls last year. This is the show I keep asking people if they have watched it and telling them to if they haven’t. So you should watch this show :)

Locke and Key follows the Locke family as they travel to their father’s ancestral estate after his tragic death. It is their mother’s idea and the three Locke siblings don’t want to leave their home in Seattle and find it tough accumulating to their new home and school. The youngest son, Body, is the first to hear these magical keys that lead to the larger mystery of this story. When I finished watching I had to quickly jot down my notes on the show. I am so happy that I looked at Netflix’s Top 10 list to decide what to watch next. I got hooked easily and while certain characters had annoying moments, in the end I really liked them and cannot wait to see how the story progresses in season 2. SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS...... I knew Ellie was going to be “Dodge” in the last episode when she got thrown through the door. It was just too easy. There was still like 20 minutes of the show left and then when she yelled out Tyler. It just felt right, but I was not expecting Gabe to be the 3rd personality! This echo really knows how to manipulate people. And now Eden too! 

The idea of having magical keys and the different powers for each was really creative and something I would have never thought about. Lots of people have compared it to Stranger Things, Narnia and Stephen King novels, and while those are somewhat accurate there is so much more to it. Must check it out for yourself!  

ONWARD

Before movie theaters closed (here in New York) I was lucky to see Onward in theaters. Even though I’ve already seen it, I am still very excited that it will be released to Disney Plus in a couple of weeks (days?) and is already available to buy digitally. 

Disney/Pixar had me guessing what this would be about for a while (like they usually do with their teaser trailers). But the more this was advertised, the more I got intrigued. It was a very cute film about the importance of family. Not just father and son, but also the bond of brothers. It took a slight turn I didn’t think we’d be taking, but am happy to see represented on the screen. I love all the moments the Dad did walking around (only a bottom half). It was pretty funny, especially when he had his top half on. I liked how they used a leash to keep track of him and how they communicated with him by tapping his feet. I think my favorite was the dancing though.  Super realistic with the whole driving thing and getting on the freeway. (When Barley says something about never being ready it felt very accurate.) I wish their dad could hear them though. I understand why he couldn’t, but still it would have been nice considering the ending. Loved the MOM POWER! She was fantastic. I loved her duo with the Manticore. I also liked how realistic it felt, well despite not having mystical creatures in our world. I liked how they focused on beings taking the easy way out and losing a piece of yourself and your history. I wish I could experience a quest like that.  

THE LODGE SEASON 2

The Lodge is a Disney Channel UK show that I was lucky to watch the first season of back in 2016 or 2017 (it’s so long ago I can’t remember). I kept trying to find the second season after it didn’t air on our Disney Channel, but had no luck. That is until Disney Plus. It wasn’t one of the first shows to air on the streaming service, but since coming out in November, the 2 season Coming of Age Musical Tween show is FINALLY available. I was thrilled! (If you can’t already tell.)

Naturally I started by re-watching the 10 episode first season. Each episode is about 25 minutes long, so it was a fast watch. I forgot how well I knew the story-lines and overall plot. For those unfamiliar with the show, the first season follows Skye Hart who is traveling back to the countryside with her dad, Ed to work (and own) the family’s hotel called the Lodge. Her grandad has been managing it for years and needs some help. Also after the recent passing of Skye’s mum it is nice for them to head back to somewhere that was so special to her. (This seems to be a common thread this month. Compared to Locke and Key this is a lot brighter.) Of course, the Lodge is experiencing some money problems so they have to solve that issue and fast because one guy in particular wants to buy it and create a luxurious spa resort (classic bad guy stuff). Skye winds up being the star of a reality TV show called My Amazing Life, which brings the publicity, but more drama than she intended. The show is filled with the classic teen drama: from love triangles to secrets and there’s also a mystery plot involving her mom and a mysterious man with the initials SJ. A bonus is the musical component. In true musical form the songs are often performed in the moment when a character is feeling sad or happy, but there are also concert performances on the show as well. Some of the songs are quite good and ones that I can’t get out of my head. 

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2

So, I definitely enjoyed the first season more than the second. Part of that was due to the plot. Obviously the Lodge was still not 100% solid, but I wanted to move past the money problems of the first season and explore some other stuff. (I don’t know what, but something else.) I also felt it was slower moving. While the episodes are about 25 minutes there isn’t much time to work with, but it often felt like we were still looking on a clue or hurtle for longer amounts of time then needed. I didn’t love the songs as much. Now as I am listening to some of them back I am liking more, but overall I thought season 1′s soundtrack was better. A lot of these songs sounded a like. I liked whenever Kaylee sang, but honestly thought she was singing the same song in a different version (now I know there’s about 3 different songs). Too much techno was used and lots of choreographed dancing that was at times strange. My biggest complaint was that Skye chose Sean over Ben, which was her biggest mistake. Throughout the season you could still see their chemistry in the looks they gave or moments that were said. (Her dad was the BIGGEST Team Ben fan.) But she only discovered it at the end when he was already with Danielle (wasn’t a fan of that ship either because of the way they rushed it). Even though there’s no season 3 (and it’s been years so it’s not coming) I will believe Skye and Ben are endgame. Because just look at them... 

Adorable. 

EMMA

Another one that the more I saw it advertised and read reviews, the more I wanted to watch it. I saw this in theaters after Onward, but just before major social distancing started. There were 5 of us total in the theater, which made it feel like out own personal home theater. Loved this movie a lot more than I thought I would. It paid homage to the novel really well as well as previous adaptations that came before it, yet still was recognizable as its own re-telling. For a full review check out my article: REVIEW EMMA (2020).

NANCY DREW

In the past few weeks (few episodes, actually) I have done a complete 360 with my opinion on the CW’s Nancy Drew. In this first season I was immediately intrigued to enter the mystery and explore a CW show without superheroes (which I honestly do love, but I like how the CW is expanding their shows again). In the fall I kept tuning in for new episodes, but as the season went on they would pile up on the DVR more. My main problem was the supernatural element. I didn’t understand why they had to have ghosts be real in this world. I wanted a classic mystery (I guess in the same vein as Scooby Doo, where the murderers were real people rather than a mystical entity). I started to get used to this element, but I didn’t love it. (This was the time when we had a lot of heavy supernatural material and possessions, etc.) My DVR didn’t tape episode 12, so I watched it through a YouTube review before watching the next one (you can see how much I cared then--now I would have opened the app and watched the episode for sure). The next episode was the Whisper Box, which was great, but it wasn’t until episode 14 that I truly fell in love with this show (and started to watch the episodes the day of). Part of it is definitely that I got used to the style of the show and also that parts of the mystery are starting to wrap up, but what I’m noticing is my main reason is Ace. His character continues to get more screen time and we continue to learn more about his life with every episode. I loved meeting his dad and seeing their relationship. His detective skills combined with Nancy are my favorite part about this show and I ship them so much now. He brings a humor to this show like saying he has enemies at the library. Nancy and Ace’s looks to each other as they read Lucy and Ryan’s emails while at the library. OMG the chemistry! If the writers don’t act on this relationship in later seasons, I don’t know what they are doing with themselves. It’s right there and yet Nancy has two other love interests right now. There’s been so many other things in the last few episodes and I am dying for this show to come back this upcoming week.  

I need more of these moments!!

PARTY OF FIVE

At the start of this month I had done a much better job watching this show and since then I haven’t been as good. I think I still have 5 or 6 episodes left, but I know it ended almost a month ago by now, so I will be able to catch up! I was familiar with the original Party of Five from the 90s and had wanted to watch that show for a while now, but due to the amount of seasons I hadn’t gotten around to it. So, once I heard this one was airing I was really excited to give it a chance. I like that it’s by the same creators as the first season and I can’t explain it, but I was really happy to see the iconic font with the title card. This show is so relevant for our current society. It addresses so many of the issues we face with the government today. Instead of having their parents die in a car crash like the original series, here they are deported which brings a whole other side to the story line. I like how we get to see the kids deal with them being away and the hope to live with them again while also seeing their current conversations. There’s so much drama and I am just hoping for some lightness at the end of this season because these characters deserve it! 

[gotatext]

 hello, its nora (she/her, gmt) n this is the ethereal but spoiled alma olive putnam (she goes by all 3 names cos she’s pretentious as fuck). raised in a farmhouse in vermont, big horse girl energy. very hungry for everything life has to offer. wakes up and smells the success in her blood. luvs the smell of libraries and listening to french music from a tinny record player in knee socks. here is pinterest. bio is below the cut, like this post to be bombarded with plotting messages but i might forget tho so pls message me x

application template.

『ELLE FANNING ❙ CIS-FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like ALMA OLIVE PUTNAM is here for HER JUNIOR year as a CLASSICS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be RESILIENT, MAGNETIC, CALLOUS & PROUD. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ NORA. 24. GMT. SHE/HER.

aesthetics.

a red beret nestled on top of bright platimum locks, neck scarves tied around your throat the way they do it in french new wave films, running barefoot through the woods in feckless hedonism, china dolls with porcelain faces lined against the walls of your room, the mona lisa smile, knee-socks tugged over the hockey grazes on your knees, a forged botticelli drying on your easel, ophelia floating in the middle of a lake. 

proceed w caution, tw for death, drugs, alcohol, violence

the short form.

— studying classics cos she thinks it makes her sound smart, but actually hates fuckin latin and just loves learning about feckless hedonism and the festivals of bacchus and writing about how all women in myth are literally forgotten. was expelled from princeton in her first year so her parents basically paid her way into radcliffe but she made an impression.... like... super fast and in her sophomore year she was upgraded to perkins accomodation n a paid scholarship bcos i think the governors kind of expect to see her in the supreme court one day or.

—  born in vermont in a big old farmhouse. her great-great-grandfather moved to america as an immigrant and worked on a plantation, made his way up cos he could speak a lot of languages and therefore win more people over. for the last two generations, putnam men have owned the farm and do little of the dirty work. big in the meat industry.

— both her parents had large personalities, so alma’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit wise beyond her years.

— very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets. — ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless” — is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french.

— studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin.

— isn’t a foward-planner, however. alma prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night.

— pretentious motherfucker. loves poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class. — very intelligent and beautiful and knows both of those facts. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan. — judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. petty and vindictive

— obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen. — tries to be an enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women desirable and interesting and cool. very amy dunne in the way she expertly reinvents herself to suit her audience, when she wants to impress

— act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity — heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention. — has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.

— her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee-high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk. — relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art. – likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramophone because “the sound quality is better” kfdsjj.

plots.

here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:

study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with alma before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library

if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends –  probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !

people who live in perkins n feel like they r constantly competing with one another to keep their place as one of the #elite only know each other from brief interactions in the lift or the canteen

honestly someone who is fully in love with her or crushing on her that she can just break would be sweet :/ or on the other hand someone she unexpectedly gets feelings for and actually wants to guage her own  eyeballs out bc of it

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !

hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning

i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties

people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse

A SECRET SOCIETY !!! honestly i would die for a slug club esque thing in which the children of notable families are invited to dinners OR alma’s also an art forger, so maybe like a club of students set up to basically forge paintings and documents from the university special collections

people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all

full biography.

alma olive putnam.

intro.

         the girl is a knife. razor-sharp, double-edged, the bright shine of a two-faced, lovely thing. silver like the secrets you magpie thief from other heads. you’re a scavenger of knowledge, of tidbits, of gossip to lock away for later use and late-night re-inspection. a mind is like a clock if you get to learn the pieces. bit by bit, you dismantle the inner workings of the brains that tick around you – how easy it is to change it’s path, how words and their meanings can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. to have the power to control that is to be a god. it’s the power trip you crave wielding pom-poms in your hands; a possessive need for control that a younger you, small and weak, never had as a child. small lips, smaller smile, a doll clutched in your too-hungry fingers, hard enough to shatter the bones of a real infant. you cut your hair with your mother’s kitchen scissors before the autumn falls, rendering you out of season, unfit for the cold weather that beats against the nape of your neck, where a stick-and-poke marks the star you were born under ; the bull. “mama, when will i be a queen?” as soon as they find a crown small enough not to slip from your head.

biography.

         if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. hands red, stained by pomegranate seeds, the empty pulp of its shell splattered on your thighs you find yourself wondering – what would it be like to want? in the beginning, you never knew hunger. twins, born under the same star, you first, him second – a nuclear family. never a sister to compete with, you were always the cherry pie of your parents’ hearts. white-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful baby of mine. the townhouse in vermont and the summer house in lyon, you wanted for nought, showered with attention, saddled with gifts - hardly a wonder you came to rely on such affection as a confirmation of your own worth.

         at eight years old you first met death, blood on a gingham-print dress, a smear of it over your cheekbone and the pulp of a mangled animal at your feet murdered by the hands of a stable boy. “alma, my precious baby, you get away from that filth,” your mama would cry from the upstairs balcony – cigar in one hand and a bloody mary in the other – though whether the filth she referred to was the dead pig or the boy with a kernel of corn in his mouth, you never did find out.

         your family earned their keeps in farming, great-grandfather wolfgang hildegarde a german immigrant, great-grandmother maura lisbon a prairie girl. they fell hopelessly in love between troughs and pig-shit, working for three dollars a day at a farm their descendants would later own, trade deals with the indians, vacations to calcutta, your father todd putnam in the kind of sheepskin coat his father’s father could only dream of owning. he worked hard so that you’d never have to. your mama once asked – you heard it through the window, rounding cartwheels across the picket-fenced lawn – could he not find a respectable career rather than selling shrink-wrapped pork for a dime a dozen? that blood money had no business raising a child. you look far back enough, edie, your father had said in his low, strong voice that could bring a civil war to silence, and i think you’ll find that all money is blood money.

         language was never fickle on your tongue, french dinner time talk by the time you were out of your hush puppy shoes, your mama fixing the au pair a smile as she fixed herself another martini. you learned the clarinet at four and how to dance with the grace of a swansong at six, ethereal under a spotlight, an audience captive in the palm of your hand. by eight you knew that you’d always been destined to be loved. loved so hard they would want to taste you, bite into the soft plump of your cheek and eat you alive. that was how magnetic you wanted to feel. but mother hamsters eat their own young when penned in together too long, and soon you became too wild, too restless, another package on your father’s delivery invoice, box-shipped out to english boarding school.

         fitting in had never been something you had to concern yourself with. you were always the shiny new toy the other girls wanted to play with, bright like a dropped coin from a magpie’s beak. wherever you went, you seemed to leave a trail of awe, pig-tailed harriet’s adoring you, imitating you, teachers forgiving your class-time chatter for the sake of your wild heart and the restless spirit you possessed. tell us what it’s like in the states, alma. they’d coo, enamoured by your hollywood drawl. does your father own a gun? you hardly knew. barely even knew the colour of his hair, for the scarce amount of times he’d stoop to kiss your cheek, though you’d tell silver-tongued tales if it’d guaranteed you an audience. when you learned how to smile at the right times, and that flattery would get you everywhere, it soon became apparent that charm would pave the yellow brick road to success even when your lack of drive couldn’t.

         the road you followed – gum-snapping, roller-blading, friendship bands all up your arm – eventually led you to radcliffe. bright-eyed and gingham skirted, you’d always known you were more. there was a hunger in you to be something extraordinary, a want so adamant to be imagined and desired that it was almost savage. in leather-bound volumes and a circle of stones, you were helen of troy, the girl for whom they’d launch a thousand ships. but there’s so much rage within you, collecting like sawdust in cavernous parts. hockey helped. there was something grounding about the feeling of a stick clasped in your hands. sweat. stiff knuckles. feet pounding the earth. the smash of wood against flesh in the scram of a game, passed off as mere enthusiasm. “slipped, sorry.” hockey is the one thing you had that was yours alone – a feral instinct that motivates you to play; something primitive within you that sparks an energy like no other. on the pitch, you feel alive. you feel like a god.

[batfamily-trash]

Love Advice

Hello, can you please do an imagine where Tim ask Jason for help because he likes a girl but is inexperienced and Jason ends up giving him false information to embarrass him?a fluff an happy ending please!

If there was one thing Timothy Jackson Drake couldn’t do in his life it would be admitting his feelings for you. I mean he didn’t have to. You knew, the press knew, all of Gotham knew. For Christ sakes, even the bad guys knew about his feelings for you. Who told them? Who cares! All that matters is that every goddamn baddie in Gotham have been placing bets on whether or not he would ask you out. And that’s how he got himself in this situation.

Red Hood was arresting one of Black Masks men when one of them mentioned little ol’ Timmy. Before handing the guy over to the cops he asked them what business they had with Tim. And because they didn’t want to die, they told him about how he had a crush on y/n l/n. Jason was surprised. He knew who you were just because he would run into you at the library every day. You guys were thinking of making a book club. But he had no clue that Timmy had a wittle crush on you. He thanked the guy for providing him with vital information. Now all he had to do was confront Tim.

Back at the cave, Tim was a blushing mess. He had just gotten off the phone with you. He adored your laugh, your smile, he adored the way your eyes would lit up every time you talked about something you were passionate about, he loved the way you made him feel about you. He wanted to tell you how you felt, but he didn’t know how. And that scared him. He didn’t want to lose you. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to tell you that he likes you. Except how? He was debating on whether to ask Dick for help or not. He was sure that the batclan had no clue about the crush, except Alfred, Alfred knows everything. If he did ask Dick for help he would just get a lot of teasing and lots of cheesy pickup lines. So he decided to ask Jason instead.

The next morning, Jason decided to confront Tim about his crush towards you, that was also the same morning Tim was going to ask Jason for advice. Coincidence? I think not! No, actually it is. Jason found Tim in the kitchen preparing his daily morning coffee like always. Except for this time, Tim was adding multiple teaspoons of sugar in his coffee. Like way too much sugar.

“Uh, Tim?” Jason said concerned for his brother’s behavior. Tim stopped mid scoop and looked over his shoulder. When he saw it was Jason he dumped the rest of the sugar into his cup and took a sip.

“Can I help you, Jason?”

“Are you okay?”

Was he okay? No, he wasn’t. “Jason, how do I ask a girl out?”

“What.”

Tim put his over sweetened coffee down and turned to face Jason. He looked up at him and repeated his question. “Jason, how do I, ask a girl out?”

Jason genuinely likes you like a sister and seeing ‘coffee addict’, Tim dating you would be hilarious. But why not embarrass him first.

“Alright, Timbo, girls LOVE it when boys are extremely corny.”

“So corny pickup lines?”

“Yeah, but not stupid corny, more like smart corny lines.”

Tim has never been more confused in his life. There’s more than one type of corny pickup lines? He had a feeling that Jason was bullshiting him but right now he needed all the advice he could get.

“Jason, y/n doesn’t like corniness,” Tim said.

“Well then. What does y/n like?”

“y/n loves books, cute animals, drawing, sunrise, sunset, the night, music…”

“Okay okay, I get it lover boy.” Jason said stopping Tim from adding more to his list, “I don’t know how to help you. Go ask Dickie.”

If Tim is really far too gone, then Jason was going to have to approach this differently. Advice wasn’t going to work if Tim literally knows everything about you. Time for Plan b.

Later that day, Tim had to go to a business meeting for Bruce since he was off world… doing something Justice League… like riding a unicorn… Anyway! Tim was gone, and Tim 'forgot’ his phone. Yeah, it’s not like his brother pickpocketed him or anything! Pfffttt who would that? Certainly not Jason!

Back to the story. Jason now had Tim’s phone in his possession. Now he could commence 'Plan B’, but there was a teensy problem. The phone had a lock. Now, Jason could hack into it or just guess a bunch of words and numbers. Jason being Jason went for the second option. He tried coffee lover, best Robin ever, red robin rocks! etc. None of them worked. So he tried your name. BING! The phone was now unlocked!

He went into Tim’s messages and found your conversations with him. It was pretty basic and boring. All you two talked about was school. School, school, school, and school. What a boring life you lived. Jason checked the hall before typing in something on the phone and shutting it off.

Two hours later…

“Hey has anyone seen my phone?” Tim shouted as he searched the living room.

A chorus of no’s could be heard from all over the house. Jason approached Tim and held out his phone. “You left it in the kitchen by the coffee pot.”

Hesitantly, Tim took the phone and made sure it was fine. “You didn’t do anything? Did you?”

“Nope.” And with that Jason walked away from Tim back to his room. Tim looked at Jason then at his phone. He had a feeling that Jason did something but brushed it off. Now all he had to do was talk to you.

Since you are still a senior at the high school you were stuck in the living hell called school. It was the last month of the school year so the teachers were giving you never-ending projects. But thank god you were graduating soon. No more dealing with high school drama, stressing events and annoying boys. All you needed to do was move out and live your life.

But your parents didn’t want you to live your life the way you wanted to. They want you to go the most prestigious university in the world and get married and have kids. Getting married was in your plans but you didn’t want to go to college or to a university immediately after high school. You wanted to explore the world and deal with your feelings for Tim, but if your parents interfere it wouldn’t happen.

Your daydream about an amazing life was interrupted by your phone buzzing in the middle of class. You made sure that the teacher and your classmates weren’t looking at you and got your phone out. You checked your messages and apparently, Tim doesn’t understand the concept of detention and… what?

You had to double check the messages he sent you to make sure there weren’t any typos. Tim Drake had asked you out. You think.

“What the hell does he mean by 'So last night I was reading the book of numbers, and realized I don’t have yours?’ he just freaking texted me,” you murmured to yourself.

“Something you want to share with the class, miss l/n?” your teacher asked.

“It’s nothing Miss, just a headache,” you explained. She turned back to the board and began to explain why the majority of your class wasn’t going to graduate.

After all your classes had ended you sprinted out of the building to avoid the stampede of teenagers. Once outside you began to look for your ride, your mom was supposed to pick you up, but she was nowhere to be seen. “y/n!”

You looked for the owner of the voice and your eyes landed on a black limo. You approached the limo and out came Tim Drake. “Need a ride?”

“Uh yeah. Thanks.”

He moved to the side and opened the door. You got in the limo and sat down. “So… Tim… Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Did you text me earlier?”

“No. I had a meeting earlier and I kinda forgot my phone. Why?”

“I got a weird text earlier from you.” You got out your phone out and showed him. He took your phone and read the message a couple times.

“Um… I um… dang it Jason!” You giggled a bit and took back your phone. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not okay,” Tim sighed covering his blushing face. You leaned over towards him and cupped his face with your hands. “Timmy, it’s alright. I actually find it cute seeing you flustered.“

Tim opened his eyes and stared at your e/c ones. He glanced down at your lips then back to your eyes. Since it seemed like he wasn’t going to do anything, you leaned in and kissed him. It took him a minute to register what was going on before he returned the kiss.

Time seemed to stop when you kissed him. You two didn’t even notice when Jason opened the door and took a picture of you two kissing. You only noticed him when Dick came out running of the Manor because of something that Jay sent him.

“AWWWWW. I SHIP IT!”

You and Tim broke the kiss and stared at Jason and Dick as they made kissy faces at you guys. You covered your face in embarrassment as Tim ran out of the car to ‘kill them’. After Tim calmed down he asked you to be his girlfriend and you accepted, and Jason and Dick wouldn’t stop annoying you after that.