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postmoe · 10 months ago

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In the Next Moment:

Yandere/Alpha Gojo Satoru x Omega Reader

I can't even tell you how long ago I started this. I had no idea how to end it and I took away and added a bunch of things haha. Here is your alpha Gojo Satoru, here to save the day and take you for himself!

omegas are lesser creatures, familial abuse, self-deprecation, like your father in this is literal scum

What kind of God deals a life like this? Where status is given the moment you’re born. Where you can be cast away at birth and shoved into a home just for having the wrong scent. It used to be that families would wait until puberty before they knew what breed their child would be. Now? Now they have the technology to make accurate guesses. Not one hundred percent, but, accurate enough.

In your case, call it lucky or not, your family didn’t send you away to a home. Omega’s aren’t completely useless, and can fetch quite a high penny on the market. Every day you were reminded of your failures as their daughter, that being bred by them should have produced an alpha.

“This is all your fault,” your mother would say to your father, “Your cousin is an omega, it runs in your bloodline!”

“How was I supposed to know?! No one ever spoke of them I had no idea until we did the test!” He would shout back.

It’s a common argument you heard growing up. One that would seep into the marrow of your bones and claw its way into your dreams. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Even though they argued with each other, at the end of the day it came out to you being wrong. You were a curse.

Eventually, your mother left. Being an alpha with you in the home, it was irredeemable. She had not bonded with an omega like her DNA screamed, your father a Beta and those relationships were never to last if an Omega came into the picture. Just an example of the homewrecker in your genes.

He would drink and smoke on the couch all day and night. “We had such a happy family, such high hopes for you…” Another swig of the bottle in his hand, “It’s your job to take care of us now. Your mother did everything. Go make some money and bring it back home.”

Quivering, afraid to even speak in front of him, you had to ask, “B-But what if people find out I’m a- AH!”

You cower as the bottle smashes against the brick wall next to your head, glass and liquor breaking around while your father stands and screams, “You stupid bitch! Go get blockers, fuck! How hard is it to come up with things on your own? You’re so fucking pathetic, stupid fucking omega,” he continues to grumble as he storms past you, “Clean up this fucking mess.”

Of course, you’ve thought about running away, thought about life outside of your home. The realism of it is not pretty, though. You’ve seen how omegas are treated on the streets if they get caught, they’re not allowed in the city because their scent can be such a disturbance. You have to be really taken care of to live amongst others. If you weren’t so rare then it wouldn’t be an issue, but unfortunately omegas can’t be shared around to every alpha.

Getting blockers is probably the hardest job. Most doctors don’t want to sell them to you unless you have a good reason for being an omega, ie; rich spouse, breeding bitch, selling, etc. Anything on the black market is a gamble between being really good or really shit. Eventually, another omega you came across in passing had recommended a ‘hole in the wall’ doctor. They hide down an alleyway in the slums of the city but are open to helping omegas. When you went there it had ignited your fear and you started releasing poor, omega pheromones. Many, hungry looks your way were cast, though thankfully you made it out in one piece.

Now you were left to try and survive in the wild.

“Yo!” Your head shoots up from the stall oven, seeing a familiar head of white hair and blindfolded head.

Honestly, you were shocked, once people found out the ‘lovely’ attendant at the crepe stall was an omega, they generally never returned. “Ah,” you try not to gape at him, “You’re back. You didn’t come with your, um, students?”

It’s been a little over a year now that you’ve manned the crepe stall in a deserted park. You think that’s why your boss put you here, because not many people came by so business wasn’t that great; it also gave him a good excuse to berate you when you didn’t meet income quota. Earlier this week you were met with a unique set of customers, one of them being this man and then two younger boys and a girl to whom he introduced as his students – very proud of them. In that same interaction, whilst the students were enjoying each other’s crepes and you were making his, he had suddenly leaned in and inhaled a few times, sniffing you and grinning cheekily, “You’re an omega, aren’t ya?” It shocked you because you shouldn’t be smelling like anything right now, the sugary crepes usually enough to hide and scent that seems to waft from you. Now, he had returned alone, acting as if you were buddies, “My dear students are in a fierce battle! I have made some time to see my favourite crepe omega.”

His words were too loud, you had to look around in fear that maybe he was trying to let others know, trying to get you boycott. However, no one was there. Was he trying to bait you? Maybe you should just go along with it, “Did you really like them that much?”

He perked up, arms open in a welcoming stance, “Of course! The food, the chef, both are a delicious snack~.”

Flirting?! Definitely a joke.

Your shocked expression must’ve spoke volumes as he laughed at you, wiping a faux tear from his blindfolded eyes, “Don’t be so unsure of yourself. Surely a treat like you gets hit on all the time.”

“Are you hearing yourself,” you blurt out without thinking. How could he be so casual about this if he weren’t planning something sinister. All the memories of manipulation and abuse from strangers in your life come flooding back, your body subconsciously recoiling in on itself in defence. Your voice is meeker now, “Please, if you’re going to do something just get over with it.”

The man’s footsteps sound calm as he strides towards you, his hand reaching forward. You cringe in on yourself, awaiting a slap or a hit, only for your body to be taken over by surprise when he speaks, his index finger pointing towards the flat stove-surface of the kiosk, “Your crepe is burning.”

“Oh no!” You squeal, quickly going to flip it off the surface and onto a serviette. Tears start to collect in your eyes as you think of all the different ways you’ll be punished, “Shit shit shit. He’s going to know! He always knows and I can’t hide it, I’m screwed-“

Silence engulfs you as you watch, stunned, at the man who picks up the hot and charred crepe, worms out his tongue and opens his mouth, before scoffing it down in a single gulp. He pulls out a few bills and sets them on the kiosk counter, “Whew! In hindsight I should have put cream or something on it. Definitely not as good as the first one I had.” Honestly… What was his deal? He didn’t question your shocked expression, only smiling and reaching out his finger to wipe at a stray tear, using the kiosk to lean over and reach you, “Name’s Satoru. Or, well, Gojo is my last name and tends to be what others go by. For you, cutie, I’d rather be addressed by something more to heart. So, you free after this? I know a great restaurant near here.”

Your mouth opens and closes, gaping like a dehydrated fish. You didn’t need to look down to see his arms begin to sizzle on the pan, the sound and smell enough to alert you both. Ven so, you informed him with ghostly words, “Your arm is cooking.”

“Not gonna move it ‘til you say yes!”

… You couldn’t believe what your day has come to, “Okay.”

The restaurant he had decided to take you to was something way out of your budget, and just as you were about to voice your concerns for it, he quickly put his finger to your lips and spoke, “Shh, I know what you’re going to say and don’t worry. I’ve got us covered.”

Neither of you were particularly dressed for this place, he wearing a black uniform with the neck of it covering his chin, and you in your small, ripped (not by design) shorts and oversized t-shirt. Even with this, the waiter at the front smiled widely at Satoru, “Gojo-sama! What a pleasant surprise. Table for two?”

You were thankful that the waiter didn’t acknowledge you. No greeting yet no glare or scowl either. Satoru flicked his fingers into guns and pointed at him, “You betch’ya! One of those cosy, independent booths, please.”

“Of course, right this way.” The waiter lead you through the open area of the restaurant, many patrons idly enjoying their dinner with their loved ones by quiet candlelight, whilst the ones you walked slightly too close to were able to smell you and tell just what breed you were, some even trying to complain to their designated waiter. You just hung your head in shame until you got to the booth, following Satoru’s lead until you heard a door being slid shut.

Quickly, you turned to face him, seeing that he had shut you both in a secluded area with a table, the walls made of a deep coloured screen that didn’t quite go to the ceiling, yet provided all the privacy one could need in a place like this. “Don’t worry,” he says, walking around to pull out a chair for you, “The owner and I get along real well. I’ve helped them out a few times.”

He slides the seat in as you sit, and you still can’t get over the fact that he hasn’t done anything bad to you yet. This man has singlehandedly given you the most kindness you have received in your entire life. Perhaps he wants to break your heart in the end, at least you might get a free meal out of it. “I see… Are you a chef? Is that why your hair is up like that and you didn’t flinch when you got burnt?” You knew some chefs were godly in the kitchen and a little stove sizzle wouldn’t quit them.

Satoru laughed, bringing his hands up to act as a resting spot for his chin, “Nooo~ Not a chef, and my hair just sits this way with the blindfold.”

Which brings you on to your next question, “Why do you wear a blindfold? How can you navigate like that?”

His cheeky grin only widens, his hands now moving to sit flat on the table so he can lean forward and whisper, “Would you believe I have… Special powers?”

This made you quirk your eyebrow, now you were unintentionally leaning in as well, “Huh? Behind your blindfold?”

Satoru chuckled, leaning back again in his chair as he nonchalantly waves the discussion away in the air, “Ah, I don’t think you can handle this conversation just yet. Oh! I know, how about this,” he holds his hand up, five fingers pointing towards the sky. Using his other hand, brings down his thumb so he was only showing four fingers, “Four more dates and I’ll reveal my eyes to you.”

Another flustered expression overcame you. You hadn’t even finished this date – this is a date?! – and yet he was already planning more. Subconsciously, you tilt your head away from him, shoulders coming inwards as you mutter, “I don’t have anything to offer you, Satoru.”

“I just,” he falters, and for the first time he sounds a little unsure of how to say something. Easily, his motions fluid and controlled, like he knows exactly what he wants to do, he reaches for your upper arms and pulls them forward, sliding down the length of your arms until he can comfortably hold your hands, “I just need you to be there. That’s all I want.”

You swallow thickly, thinking it over. It wouldn’t hurt to see how tonight turned out, and even if you said no, he knows where you work. You suppose you can see where this takes you, until it falls flat like it should for an omega.

That night, you managed to tip toe back into your home, your father snoring on the couch. It was a miracle you weren’t berated, at least you had thought so until the morning.

Cooking breakfast for him, he had decided now was prime time to slam his fist into the archway of the room, making you flinch as he roared, “You stupid bitch, don’t think I didn’t notice you not home last night. Where the fuck were you?”

What to say… Could you lie? You’d have to lie, he would accuse you of trying to do something shady if you said you had a date. No omega would get a date, especially you, and so that would mean you were planning something bad. Or maybe it was your catastrophising thoughts that made you see it this way, a defence mechanism, if you will. “I was working late,” you tell him, quietly, “My boss is trying to extend the crepe business into later hours for couples on dates.”

To this, your father scoffs, planting his body at the table as he awaits his meal, “No couple would want an omega to serve them, you might try to make off with their mate.”

You really did try to hold your tongue, but maybe Satoru’s easy-going behaviour had mellowed you out a bit, “I just thought you might want the extra money.” It wasn’t a smart-ass comment, but no matter what you’d say he would take it as one.

This morning, he seemed to have had a bad hangover, as he could only growl out, “What was that, you runt? Know your place.”

Oh, how you desired to spit in his food. You gazed longingly at the bacon and eggs you were making, such a simple meal. Last night you had come home to see new pizza boxes laid around. Honestly, you felt a sort of betterment from that. You had dined like royalty, and he was stuck here eating shit from a sole. If only for last night, you were better than him.

…

“A curse?” You questioned, your wide eyes looking over your teacup. It was an authentic, British set, Satoru had taken you out to a little garden café on the other side of the city. It was amongst some of the historic temples around, the trees making you seem far away from the city and the food a kind of exquisite you had never been privy of knowing.

He grinned at you, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling from behind his dark glasses, “That’s right! Kind of like a ghost or a monster. They feast on collective, negative energy and such, I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

You tried to keep an open mind, “And you… Hunt them?”

“Yeah! See, now you’re getting it,” he grins, excitedly.

With a smile, you set your cup down and ask, “Are you an author, Satoru?”

He waved his hand dramatically in the air, “Oh, you flatterer, you. I’m not that creative, it’s just my job.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t help the creeping feeling that he was lying to you. Like, this was your third ‘date’ together and he still had yet to bully you or do something horrible. This wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to make you scared and freak out. Maybe he wants to laugh at the weak, little omega and her fear smell. Is that why you were in a crowded café?

“Hey, hey,” he reaches over, holding your hands in his, “I can sense you’re troubled but not for the reason I’d think. You still don’t trust me, do you, (Y/n)?”

Your mouth opens and closes, unsure how to word your thoughts. You were caught in a predicament you didn’t want to be in. Of course you still didn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust him after everything you’ve been through. Would he take such offense to that?

Satoru seems to take your shock as his answer, smiling sincerely at you, “I don’t blame you, it’s okay. That’s why we’re doing these dates! Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from now on.”

Flaming heat erupts on your cheeks, the feeling of his thumbs caressing your skin feeling like an iron, “How can you just say that? You don’t know me and I’m-“ you stop suddenly, looking around you to notice the faces of disgust, you really didn’t need to finish that sentence. Your blockers had grown thin, so now you were cutting them in half to try and spread it out since your doctor was on holiday. Unfortunately, they didn’t prevent the smell of your pheromones enough, it was painfully obvious everywhere you went.

“Ah, my darling omega, you truly are sweet,” he inhales, smiling contentedly, “Once you realise the world is your playground, nothing else matters. I could kill everyone here and take you away, and as long as no one can stop me – and trust me, they can’t -, anything is possible, and your dreams really can come true.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, his words always bordering on genuine and humour. Even with the knowledge of Satoru’s like to play, the undeniable dark truth of a true alpha manages to waft in the air.

Like a switch, he grins widely, all teeth and charisma, “That’s not saying I will, but it’s such a nice feeling, don’t you think?”

It’s quiet as his words sink in. You think about your life so far, how you couldn’t even get away with greeting someone without a knife to your throat and spitting words of how an omega doesn’t get to speak without their alpha allowing them to do so. As much as you’d like to punch them in the gut, you don’t think you’d really want to kill them, everyone growing under their own circumstance. Instead of getting into political debates, you think you don’t want anymore stares and judgement for today, deciding that even if Satoru is okay to talk to, you’re still uncomfortable, “I suppose so, it must be nice having such strength, and being able to see… Curses.”

The rest of the date was enjoyable, and he even answered some of your questions about the creatures he hunts. Apparently, omegas are prime suspects, easy to feast upon and no one questions when they go crazy, the second lot of victims being alphas that had an omega as a child. You’re honestly surprised you and your father haven’t been attacked yet if that’s the case.

Satoru drives you home and it’s relatively quiet in the car, the thrumming of the almost noiseless engine enough to fill the silence. You go back to what Satoru says during your date, and now you’re memorising the smells he emitted during your conversation. Before, it was hard to really tell since you were stressing, and the restaurant was full of blooming alphas and betas. However, now it was lingering through the car. He had spoken so easily about death and killing, like it was second nature to him next to breathing. Some curses were sentient, able to talk and think, and then there was the comment about killing everyone else in the restaurant, who were definitely not curses. He was happy, proud even, to have that kind of strength and show it off to you. Tonka bean and vetiver… Perhaps even an orange blossom. It was nice, even if the reason behind it was a little morbid, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and indulge.

The scent got stronger, and suddenly you were startled by a low chuckle, your eyes flashing open to see you were leaning towards him. Satoru had slowed down in front of your house and turned the car off, his cheeks a flush in the dim light, “Having you relax around me like that feels so nice. I can’t tell you enough how happy you’ve just made me.”

You open your mouth immediately to say sorry, only to close it after a moment’s thought. He doesn’t smell like he’s trying to bully you or mad that you thought you could get so close to him without repercussions. How much longer can you hold out from someone who is being so kind to you?

“You don’t have to reply to that,” he tells you, saving you from thinking of an acceptable response. Satoru gets out first, hurrying to your side while you unbuckle yourself to let you out. You smile at him and let him take your hand, holding you close as he closes the door and pushes you against the car. A small gasp is pushed from you, surprised at his boldness. You’re lucky that this neighbourhood was relatively quiet, no one being awake at this hour to see you with anyone. “I really want to kiss you,” he says, face inching closer to you, “You have no idea how hard it was for me to hold back in the car.”

Your eyes shift in nervousness, hands coming to press to Satoru’s chest, “W-wait, s’too soon-“

“It’s fine,” he cuts, not letting you get another word out, smashing his lips to yours in a frenzied kiss. Your eyes dilate, his scent and taste making your heart jump with a certain anxiety – excitement – you’re letting your shoulders relax and clenching the front of his shirt as he takes the lead. Maybe… Maybe this isn’t so bad… His leg finds its way between the both of yours and gently grinds down, a small moan slipping from your mouth at the electric feeling. Next, he starts to slowly introduce his tongue to your mouth, the wet muscle a new sensation to you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with an overwhelming pain, your gut tightening and your eyes watering as you double over into his chest. Your body is hot, panting, you lean into him and can hardly hear anything. Satoru is speaking, saying something, ‘sorry’ and ‘test’ are two words you think you understand but you can’t focus on sounds. What does help you, though, is the gentle caress his hand brings to your head. He holds you tight, safe, his pheromones echoing security and comfort through your mind. You mumble into his clothes once you feel you’re able to talk again, “Wh-what was that? That hurt so much…”

Satoru hums, both hands coming to your face which he cradles and regards you with loving eyes, “Have you ever been in heat, (Y/n)?”

You sniffle, shaking your head, “No, I’ve taken suppressants since the day they found out what I was. It made puberty really difficult…”

Satoru’s lips curl into a frown, “I imagine it would. It seems your body jumped into overdrive, the stimulation from kissing alone too much for you.”

Your arms curled around yourself for some comfort, “My suppressants, they’re running low so I’ve been halving them to spread them out but they’re just making me feel sick.”

“When did you start halving them?” He asks, eyes now wide with worry.

“Uhm, I think about a few days ago? But I can’t get a hold of my doctor and it’s hard to find anyone that will willingly prescribe suppressants.” Your head falls into his chest, a feeling of defeat washing over you.

Satoru pets your head, quiet in thought before he says, “Why not just stop taking them?”

You have to laugh at that, tilting your head to look up at him, “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he closes his eyes, burying his nose in your neck and holding you close, “You’ve got me now, I’ll look after you. Fuck, you smell so good.”

“Satoru-“ Your wrists are caught in his as he stares you down.

Or, at least that is what he appears to be doing. You’re stuck in his grasp as you wait for him to make his statement, which he does once your lips smacks shut, “You don’t need to hide who you are anymore. Just think about it, ‘kay?”

To get him off your back you give an exhale of defeat, rolling your eyes to the side and complying, “Fine. I’ll think about it. Cool?”

His charming grin is almost enough to even fool you into thinking it was okay to relinquish your omega self to him, “Cool.”

Things were not cool. Not long after getting inside, your father had waited to pounce once the car Satoru drove was out of sight. Your vision had waned with the punch he threw at you, your body colliding with the hallway wall. “Disgusting!” He had spat, literally, his saliva landing on your cheek and barely missing your eye. His foot was next to make contact, kicking you hard enough in the stomach that you threw up a little of your dinner, “You reek of a fucking omega! I see you whoring yourself out, slut. Tryna hide the money from me, eh?”

Another kick had you crying out, this one on your bicep and knocking you back to the ground. You wailed as he bent down and held your hair in a tight and painful grasp, “I’m not! I swear, I have no money!”

He ignored you, his breath badly stained with alcohol, however, you were certain even without the influence he wouldn’t hold back, “Tryna seduce me? Hm? Your own father? You fucking wretch. If you don’t stop that smell right now I swear to whatever fucking God is out there…”

You were bawling now, you could only assume your hormones were worse, your own senses dull to the smell of you. It hurt internally as well, your omega working overdrive as you try in vain to calm down so you didn’t have to endure the full impact of emitting such helpless hormones. It may not have worked the way you wanted it to, but, your father seemed to calm down with a sneer.

He threw your head to the floor and began walking away, “If you don’t get back on those fucking meds by tomorrow then I will kill you. I promise you that.”

You didn’t dare reply to that, thankful that he decided to walk away while you were still breathing tonight.

How fitting the weather is today, the clouds a dark grey and the skies pouring with rain. You had one umbrella with a hole between two of the spines but it was better than nothing. This morning you left the house with a bag packed and a small suitcase, only the essentials.

You were on a bus ride to the other side of town to see your doctor. If they weren’t going to pick up the phone then you’d have to arrive suddenly. If he didn’t have the suppressors then you weren’t going to go home, in fact, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to go back anyway. Perhaps a life on the street was better than this. A woman’s shelter wouldn’t take you in for the fact that you were an omega, and an omega shelter had an 80% chance of being a front for something worse than illegal.

The bus stops where you need to be, the passengers loudly exclaiming that they’re happy you’re finally leaving. It doesn’t hurt so much today, you just have one thing on your mind.

‘Why not just kill yourself?’

You stop at the thought, in the middle of opening your umbrella, standing in the rain. It was a thought, right? Ending it was always a nice joke but holy shit that voice sounded like it was right by your ear and… genuine. You weren’t exactly scared, a little shocked, sure but, maybe you should bring that up with your doctor, too.

However, as you got closer and closer to the clinic, you began to think they weren’t open. Though there was the receptionist’s and the doctor’s cars outside, the curtains were drawn, the lights were off and the sign, once you got close enough to read, was saying ‘Closed’.

Your hand reaches to your heart as you feel it thumping hard in anxiety, your pheromones beginning to linger around you as a thick, steady aura. Thank goodness this place was off the city boarder, not many people around to subject you to bullying and hatred. You look back to the cars again, both of them parked neatly in the small lot. Even if it’s closed, you need to push past your nervousness and gently demand your medication. If you didn’t… Well, he knows just as well as you do.

You knock on the glass with a firm hit, calling out for good measure, “Dr. Kodoka, it’s me, (Y/n).”

Silence.

You knock again, if they don’t want to be disturbed then the earlier they open up to you the better. “Dr. Kodoka, please, I really need to talk to you. It’s an emergency,” you plead, hoping he could tell by the sound of your voice how desperate you were.

Your gut drops as more silence is your only response. You probably should have tried this first, grabbing the long handle of the door and trying to open it. No surprise, it’s locked. Perhaps there’s a back entrance? Oh, you feel so seedy scrounging around a doctor’s office.

Past the skip bins there’s a narrow entrance just wide enough for one person between the building and a wired fence. You’re not sure why the wired fence is even here, it’s not attached to anything and only separates a portion of the office from an open wheat field. Luck smiles upon you as you try this door, the entrance clicking open and allowing you to step into the darkness.

One deep breath before you call out has you positively gagging at the disgusting scent that assaults you nose and mouth. It’s unavoidable, the little bit of vomit that works its way up your throat is involuntarily spat out onto the linoleum floor. What. The. Fuck.

This has to be the worst experience you’ve ever been through, the tears in your eyes falling freely as you persevere through the smell. You know you need to call the police, you know something like this isn’t normal. However, if you do, and they find out you’re an omega here to purchase suppressants then there’s a good chance you’ll both be dead. It’s happened before, police getting trigger happy or beating up omegas and any allies. Of course, society doesn’t care. More filth off the streets.

There’s a sound towards the entrance, something being knocked over, as well as some sort of ‘sludging’ noise. Could it be one of them trying to get to the door? Someone must be alive! You quietly move towards the entrance, past the main office, the break room, and peak through the broken door of the reception. It’s horrendous.

All the gore has been maintained in this area. Limbs, a spine, half a head that has been poorly cut from the top of their skull through their chin- and that’s only the background. In the middle of it all, this giant, wrinkly, slug-like creature appears to be waking up. It has an amass of arms and hands over it’s back and sides, and one twitching on the tip of its tail. The stalks that would be its eyes slowly raise, turning in all directions as if looking around.

You fall against the door, your entire being freezing up in a shock mode. The thud of your body hitting the floor alerts it to you, and you notice now that instead of eyes, it was wearing the distraught faces of the doctor and receptionist. The receptionist still had one of her eyes hanging from their socket, whilst the doctor was completely eyeless, with only a couple of teeth and the tip of his tongue drooping from the gaping mouth.

It hones in on your position and starts charging at an alarming pace, the only thing you can do is scream your throat raw as your end nears. It’s too horrifying, too real to be a dream you can escape. The creature splits its mouth with human-like teeth in mismatched rows and thrashing hands over its body and you can’t look away from your demise.

You don’t blink, and because you don’t blink it’s hard to believe anything happened.

As fast as light itself, a man appears and slashes the slug in half, horizontally through its open mouth with a light so white there’s a tint of blue to it. The guttural scream it lets out is so closely related to a human’s that you are only filled with more fear. The man, who turns to give you a cocky wink and that you can now see is Satoru Gojo, makes a crude display of holding his index and middle finger in front of his face and slowly licking his digits with the flat of his tongue; before slicing the creature up into smaller pieces until it bursts into sprays of blood and nothingness.

Your hearing was skewed, you barely recognise his footsteps as he walks towards you and bends down to hold his hand out. You tell your mind to grab it, to accept his kindness after saving you but you’re caught in your own sense of dread and confusion as not a speck of blood is seen on Satoru or his white hair, or his devilish smile, or that black coat with the collar sticking around his neck.

Satoru’s smile softens and he’s sure you can’t hear him when speaks to you, “Ah, I see we’ll have to cut our deal short. That’s okay, we’re only one date off anyway.” He reaches for your hands, placing them both in one of his and stroking the backs with his thumb. He then slowly removes his blindfold and tilts your chin with his free hand to force you to meet his silvery gaze, “(Y/n), sweetheart, look at me. Everything is okay now.”

His eyes are so blue… White… Silver… They’re like crystals or diamonds or two pools of galaxies – they’re out of this world. His lashes are gorgeous too, and for some reason you feel a ping of jealousy amongst all this chaos because how can a man be so beautiful just by taking off his blindfold. Like a character taking off their glasses to reveal they were beautiful all along. Wait, what are these thoughts? In this horrible situation you suddenly feel like giggling.

Satoru chuckles, keeping your focus solely on him as he lifts you in his arms to carry you out. People in suits run past you but neither of you pay them no mind as he keeps talking, “What silly thoughts are going through that omega mind of yours?” You laugh incredulously, feeling your body fall heavier in his arms he adjusts you, “There it is, there’s that adrenaline leaving you. I gotcha, sweetheart.”

You’re sat on the back of an ambulance with a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water wedged between your legs. A few feet away is Satoru, talking to someone so casually you wouldn’t think he just killed a monster with his own hands; literally. You watch as he dismisses the person and walks back over to you with a smile, his blindfold back on and his hands coming from his pockets to bring you into a side embrace, “How are you feeling? That was quite an experience, huh?”

Trauma makes people react differently to things, so if this was his job then it makes sense he wouldn’t be so distressed. “I smell of decay,” you sigh, though you weren’t covered in filth you definitely had some stains. Even without the mess, the stale air in the clinic was enough to cling to you. You squeeze the blanket tighter around you, “How could something like this happen? They were generous people. Kind; caring.”

Satoru seemed to think for a moment, as if deciding what the best thing to say right now would be. Whether it was helpful or not, he opted for the truth, placing one of his large hands below your neck for comfort, “They were helping omegas, and regardless of their personality, a lot of stigma comes from there. Constant stress to keep a secret, harsh words from the few friends and family that know, it all adds up and creates the perfect scent for a curse to trail.”

“I remember you saying you that they are attracted to negative energy. So, rather than feeding off the energy itself they eat the humans?” You ask, though you already know the answer to that. You just can’t wrap your head around how this is even possible. You recall his eyes, how pretty they are beneath the blindfold, “Is that why your eyes are so striking, because you have the power to fight them?”

A laugh bubbles from his chest, his hand squeezing your back, “Sort of. Not everyone is like me, though. In fact, no one is like me.” He steps back, arms open wide and head tilted towards the sky, “I’m the most powerful sorcerer to exist! Killing that creature used nothing but a flick of my wrist.” When he looks back to you there is a strange, powerful feeling that emanates from him, even some of the detectives around you seem to tense, “Nothing can touch me. In turn, nothing will ever touch you.”

What he says should be something kind, words of protection and safety. However, as his gaze burns through the blindfold and into your own, you feel like your breath has been whisked away and your body is being pulled to the ground, trapping you in place for him. It only lets up when your phone begins to ring, and to get out of this awkward feeling of a situation you answer it, “Hello, this is (Y/n).”

The voice on the other side of the phone makes you almost vomit, your father sounding almost melancholic, “(Y/n)… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted like that. Come home.”

You’re at a loss for words. He wants you home? No, that’s a lie, you can’t understand what is going on with him. Something tickles your ear and you jump to see Satoru leaning close so he can listen to your conversation. He smiles at you and nods, whispering, “Say yes.”

Satoru saved you and promised to protect you. He wouldn’t be telling you to agree if you were going to get hurt, you’d like to believe. So, swallowing your hesitation you reply, “O-Okay, dad. I’ll come home.”

He breathes a huge sigh of relief, “Thank god, thank you, (Y/n). Thank you so much.”

You hang up and look to Satoru with worry, “Do you think he’s going to kill me?”

“Nah, I won’t let him,” Satoru says, confidently. You think you can trust him, especially since you watched him take down a strong monster, your angry alpha of a father would be no match for him. He sees you’re still worried, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand and his smile doing its best to calm you, “Let’s finish up here.”

By the time you two are at your house the sun was low in the sky. Satoru had parked down the street this time, the two of you walking slowly down footpath to avoid suspicion. You were already on edge, however, when Satoru told you he wanted you to go in alone, you froze up completely.

He just stood there, allowing you to process what he said. You started by shaking your head, grabbing onto his hand, “No. No, please, you said-“

“-I said I’d protect you and I will. I’m going to go around the back, you just walk up like everything is hunky-dory, ‘kay?”

With a squeeze of your shoulder, he skips around, his carefree attitude not exactly lifting your anxiety. One thing is for certain, though, and that’s that you’ve seen him kill the other curse before. You know he can do it. You trust him. Alpha status aside, if you have any friend in this world then it’s Satoru Gojo.

You take your time going up to the front door, hand trembling as you reach for the knob. It’s unlocked, the door creaking open ominously. You get a cold rush through your body, the inside at freezing temperatures. It’s unnatural, making you step back in shock and shivering in what you could only describe as unease.

But it’s okay, because Satoru is here. He said he would protect you and the prospect has you feeling your cheeks flush. He’s like… your alpha.

The inside is quiet, save for the humming of electricity coming from the fridge. You walk slowly in and look around, spying your father in lounge room on his recliner, hands intertwined as he leans forward. You don’t shut the door, feeling just a tad easier with the escape route.

It isn’t until you’re standing before him that a whistling of wind causes the door to slam shut on its own, the locks clicking in place unnaturally. Your confused look in that direction has him huffing a laugh. Your father doesn’t give you the courtesy of eye contact, “You know that on the day you were born, your mother and I were at our happiest?”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, and though you were certain this was a trap of some kind, you don’t know what else to do except respond meekly, “I didn’t know that no.”

A humourless laugh accompanies the way he sits up, shoulders slumped, and eyes dazed behind you, “No, of course you don’t. We only told you once when you were just a newborn. Once you got your status in life, well… It was too shameful to ever bring up again. We were completely embarrassed we every felt that way about an omega.”

He’s not just staring off into nothing, you notice the way his eyes look specifically behind you. Is it Satoru, did he come inside? You turn your head, only to go rigid and fall back in fear. Not another one… Not another curse.

It was too tall for the ceiling, curving over like a hook with its head twisted to be partially upright. Tiny mouths were strewn over its face and down its neck, human teeth in all sorts of odd places like the lips and cheeks of the creature. The main mouth was skewed to the side and grinning openly down at you, and the eyes that are sunken, almost giving a hollow effect, were as dark as a black hole; though you knew instantly that it had its gaze locked on you. Four lanky arms reach from its shoulders, the body a crooked mass of black and its fingers twitching in all the wrong directions with painful cracks of possible bone.

The worst part that solidified its presence was when it spoke, his voice raspy and words barely tangible, “Dau…ght…er… Path..et..ic ome…gck.a. Delectabblle—dinn….eerrr.”

You jumped at the firm hands on your shoulders, keeping you in place as the curse limped forwards. Your father spoke in a neutral tone, “It appeared not long after your mother left. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it, who to contact or what to do. Eventually, I started nurturing it. It grew with every argument we had, relished in my anger and pain. I let it feed off me and now it wants more. Now it wants you. You’ll do this, right? It’s the only good thing you’re for, after all. It’ll save me, your family.”

Tears streamed down your face, head shaking as you shifted back. Even with the bit of adrenaline you were able to muster, you were no match for your father, forced to endure the visual of this creature’s fingers itching to get a hold of your flesh. You could only sob, no words coming out, not even to call for Satoru.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to. Your saviour appears once more, and as though the curse is nothing but a guy on the street, he places his hand on its back and gives a low whistle, “Low blow, dad. And here I was excited to finally meet my father-in-law.”

There’s a pressure now in the air, one that has you curling in on yourself, and causing the curse’s open smile to turn into a low hanging frown. Its head spins on its neck, trying to get a look at the man that has it. Your father is more concerned about the words Satoru spoke, though, the tips of his fingers digging painfully into your skin, “’Father-in-law’? You whore. I knew you were out selling yourself. Looks like even to the end, you’re nothing but an embarrassment. That’s all going to change, though. Now you and your boy toy can die together.”

Satoru laughs, and before you can even blink, he appears behind your father and grabs his wrist, easily shattering the bones and causing him to let go of you. You shift to the side, away from both him and the curse as he screams. Satoru tuts at him, waggling his finger nonchalantly in the air, “Parents should protect their children, not sacrifice them. Honestly…” His voice lowers into something almost sad, though you’re wondering if Gojo Satoru was actually privy to that emotion in the first place or if he was just a really good actor, “People like you disgust me.”

A bright light that radiates such an intense heat envelops the lounge room. Your arm comes up to cover your face, eyes squinting, all you can hear are the pained cries of your father and the garbled curse. It sends fear coursing through your body, even if Satoru is on your side, just what sort of power does he control? The carnage you expect to see once your eyes adjust isn’t anywhere. The light is gone, everyone else in the room is gone, thin burn marks are left where your father and the curse once was.

You jump at the hand on your shoulder, your saviour appearing once again out of nowhere. He smirks, acting a little flustered, “Sorry, are your eyes okay? I just wanted to show off a little bit.”

Again, he’s able to treat this like it’s any other menial task. You ask him, voice quiet, “Where are they?”

He tilts his head at you, a little pouty that your first concern was them and not the praise you should be heaping on your hero. He squeezes your shoulder, comfortingly, “What do you mean? They’re gone, does it really matter where?”

It takes a few goes on shaky legs, but, you’re able to stand and face him, “I’m just a little concerned what even happened. Watching you fight the other one, I couldn’t wrap my head around it, and now this- … Are they…?”

“Dead? Yes.”

You exhale at his blatant response. Is this something you should blame yourself for, the killing of your father and that… thing? Or is that just your life-long need to put any negative responsibility on you for merely being born an omega.

Satoru wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the lounge room to help your overclocked mind, "Here’s what would have happened if I didn’t do that: The curse would eat you, devour your father, and then go on a rampage hunting primarily other poor omegas. It’s happened before, baby. Besides,” he cups your face in his hands, making you look up at him, “He was a horrible man. No loss. Can you really say you loved him?”

The only love you had for your father was before your scent kicked in. After that, he was worse than a stranger to you. You fiddle with your fingers, abashedly looking away, “What happens now?”

“Now,” he excitedly jostles you, the smile on his face huge, “You come with me!”

Your eyebrows furrow, his goofy attitude somehow lessening the severity of the situation for you, “I can’t just do that.”

“Sure you can! Where else are you gonna go?” He questions, awaiting an answer he knows you won’t be able to think of. He takes your hands in his and gets down on one knee, “(Y/n), I know it hasn’t been very long, but when I say I’ve finally found the love of my life-“

Cheeks burning, you push away from him, trying to cover up his teasing laugh with your hands to your ears, “Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop. Fine, I’ll come along with you.” You don’t think you can ever get used to being flirted with, especially in the unique ways that Satoru comes up with.

He gives you a gentle push, “Go grab some valuables, baby. We’ll leave once you’re ready.”

Satoru watches as you move up the stairs, grumbling about the sudden use of ‘baby’ he’s started getting attached to. Hah, how he really does love you. His hand comes to the straining of his cock in his pants, palming the ache that’s been prevalent for a while now. Not long now, he can’t way to absolutely ruin you. An omega that’s never had a proper heat, and he gets to be your first toy, just as much as you are his. His luck truly is divine, if anyone deserves it, it’s definitely him.

#yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #abo #yandere satoru x reader #alpha x omega #yandere gojo x reader #yandere x reader #yandere alpha x omega #alpha satoru gojo #jjk x reader

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ijustwannabecool · 2 months ago

Text

Come Home With Me

Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader

Summary... After a chaotic race weekend, Lewis skips the afterparty for something better: a quiet café, a shared vegan wrap, and your thighs brushing under the table. You’re just trying to be normal for one night—but nothing about being with Lewis Hamilton is ever really normal. And maybe that’s the best part.

trigger warnings: fluff, swearing, brief fan interaction, stress mentions, post-race tiredness, domesticity, casual fame realism, pure husband energy.

The hoodie he gave you this morning is way too big, and that’s exactly why you love it. It still smells like champagne and his cologne, even after a full day in it.

“Come on, babe,” Lewis grumbles, tugging your hand as you pass a narrow stone street near the marina. “Let’s duck in here. M’starving.”

He’s right. He is starving. And not in the dramatic, I-forgot-to-eat-my-snack-bar way. He’s just raced for two hours in 90-degree heat and skipped the afterparty entirely.

So now it’s just you and him, tucked into a corner booth at a sleepy café that smells like garlic and fresh bread.

His curls are tucked under a cap, hoodie zipped halfway, fingers intertwined with yours under the table like he has no plans of letting go—even to eat.

“Falafel wrap, sweet potato fries, ginger ale,” he says confidently when the waiter comes by. “Extra tahini.”

You blink. “You knew my order?”

He smirks, nudging your foot under the table. “I know everything about you. Try me.”

You shoot him a playful look. “Okay. What was the name of the cat I had in uni?”

“Mochi,” he answers without hesitation, popping a fry into your mouth. “Used to sit in the window waiting for you, even when you were out all night studying. You cried for three days when she passed.”

You melt. In the booth. Fully liquify.

But just as you're about to tease him back, you spot a girl in the next booth. She's trying not to stare. There's a phone in her lap, barely tilted your way.

Lewis squeezes your hand tighter and leans in close, whispering, “Just me and you tonight. Eyes on me, baby.”

POV – Sofia (18), café worker in Monaco I almost died when he walked in. Like actually had to go into the back for a second to collect myself. Lewis Hamilton. In our café. With his girl. Sharing fries.

But what got me was how normal they were. Laughing. Teasing. She fed him a bite of her wrap and he literally kissed her palm after.

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t post anything.

Not every moment is for the world. Some are just for them.

You barely make it back to the hotel before he’s all over you.

The second the door clicks, Lewis’s hands are on your waist, mouth at your neck.

“I didn’t say it earlier,” he murmurs, pulling the hoodie over your head, “but you looked so good today. Could barely focus on the damn race.”

You giggle, but it turns breathy when he lifts you onto the bathroom counter, his hips slotting between your thighs.

“You’re gonna let me thank you properly, yeah?” he whispers, voice rough with want.

The shower is running by the time he gets you both undressed. Your back hits the cool tile while his mouth is hot on your skin.

“You take such good care of me,” he mutters as he sinks to his knees. “Let me take care of you.”

He’s curled around you afterward, both of you in robes, tangled on the couch with a half-eaten bag of kettle chips between you.

His eyes are half-lidded. Tired. Soft. At peace.

“You know,” you murmur, “someone in that café definitely clocked us.”

Lewis hums. “Let ‘em talk. You’re mine. Always have been.”

And when the news alerts start to roll in—grainy photos, blurry sightings—he just laughs.

“They didn’t even get my good side.”

��️ The Next Morning

The sun slips through the sheer hotel curtains, casting golden stripes across the bed.

You're still half asleep when Lewis props himself up on one elbow, kisses your cheek, and murmurs, “You awake?”

“No,” you mumble, shifting closer.

He chuckles. “Wanna come with me to the paddock today? Just for a bit. Say hi to the engineers. Wear your hoodie.”

You yawn into his chest. “Only if you promise to feed me waffles first.”

“Done.”

You open one eye. “And kiss me like you did in the shower.”

His grin is lazy and smug. “Oh, that’s definitely done.”

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asiatic-apple · 15 days ago

Note

If requests are open, maybe some fluff with a fem reader with caleb please? go any way you please, and ty

Thanks for the req, nonnie! I was so excited to make my own choice for this one. Prompt #17 reminded me of when he notices a small cut on MC’s hand by stalking her Moment posts lolll—so I wanted to write something comical in the same vein. Hope you enjoy!

Last chance to send a request!

Playing doctor

Caleb x female reader

Prompt: carefully bandaging the other’s wounds, even if it’s just a tiny cut

Content: a little bit suggestive…especially at the end, caleb is such a mother hen, possessive!caleb

You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, your back against the couch, surrounded by the chaos of tiny plastic parts and instruction booklets. Caleb’s plane model kit has taken over the entire area in front of the coffee table.

The glossy box it came in promised “historically accurate parts and museum-quality realism.” What it didn’t mention was that building it would feel like doing surgery with tweezers and a prayer.

While you carefully sort dozens—or maybe hundreds—of parts into organized piles, Caleb lounges beside you on the carpet, elbows propped on the table.

Excitement radiates off him like heat. He’s been infodumping about fighter jets for the past thirty minutes straight. And honestly, you’re enjoying it. His voice pitches higher when he’s animated, and his hand gestures get wilder the longer he explains the mechanics of wing flaps and thrust ratios.

He’s so adorable that your teeth ache. Something else, much lower in your body, aches too. But you try to ignore it for now. You’re barely looking down at the pieces in your hands anymore, too enamored by how passionate he is.

“And the thing about the intake valves,” Caleb says, flipping the instruction manual around to point out a diagram like it’s a national treasure, “is that most people don’t realize the way they rerouted airflow in this design actually boosted acceleration by–”

He gasps, loud and sharp, his face stricken in horror.

You glance down at the model parts in your hands, panic spiking. Surely you didn’t break something. There was no snapping sound, no loose plastic. Everything looks intact.

“What? What did I do?” you ask quickly, heart in your throat.

His large hands gently engulf yours, forcing you to drop the parts onto the floor as he peers down at your fingers with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb.

“Pip-squeak,” he scolds softly, brows drawn. “I told you to be careful.”

“Huh? I was being careful. I didn’t break–"

“The wingtips are sharp.” His voice is low and reminiscent of when he’s reprimanding his subordinates at the Fleet. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

You frown, examining your hand. There’s no blood. No scratch. Nothing.

But then he presses lightly on the pad of your pointer finger, and a faint sting blooms. One single drop of blood beads up at the tip like it had to fight hard to exist. You’re not even sure how he noticed something so miniscule before you registered the cut.

Caleb inhales like you’ve been shot.

You scoff. “You’re kidding, right?”

He is not.

Before you can protest, he drags you down the hall, mumbling about risk of infection and tissue trauma like you’ve barely survived a Wanderer ambush.

You don’t resist him tugging you toward the bathroom. Not because you agree with him, but because you’ve learned there’s no reasoning with him when you’re hurt. Even slightly hurt.

But growing up with him made you stubborn. And you like to push his buttons.

“Caleb,” you whine dramatically, “it’s literally a paper cut. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ in that insufferably cute way of his. “It’s plastic. Which makes it worse than a paper cut.”

You snort as he pulls out the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet like a man preparing for battlefield surgery. With the help of his Evol, you’re deposited on top of the bathroom counter while he digs through antiseptics and gauze with military precision.

“Uh huh, and is that your professional diagnosis?” you tease.

“It is,” he counters, holding up the antiseptic like it’s holy water. “You’re bleeding. And I’m not risking it getting infected. Not on my watch.”

You bite your tongue instead of pointing out how annoying or stifling his overprotectiveness can be sometimes. Mirth flickers in your eyes while you watch him gently dab a cotton round with antiseptic before hovering it over your finger.

“Sorry, pips. This might sting.”

You grin and hiss dramatically as soon as it touches your skin. “Oh god…the pain!”

He hums sympathetically, his lips twitching with a smile. “Shh, I know. It’s okay. Doctor Caleb’s here.”

He is such an ass sometimes. But you snicker anyway. “You know you’re insane, right?” you mutter, sticking your tongue out at the overbearing doctor.

He wraps your finger with one of the ridiculous smiley-face band-aids he likes to keep around for “emergencies.”

“Yeah. Insanely in love with you,” he retorts, kissing your bandaged finger with a proud little grin.

God, he’s insufferable. And you stupidly love him anyway.

You jump down from the counter and let him take your good hand before leading him back toward the living room.

“Come on, Doctor Caleb,” you deadpan. “Your patient still has a jet to build with you.”

“As long as you promise to let me handle the sharp parts,” he mutters, shooting the scattered pieces a distrustful look when you enter the living room again.

“No promises.”

He sighs heavily. “Then I’m saving the kit for later and wrapping both your hands in gauze.”

To prove his point, he grips both your wrists, locking them against his chest while you laugh and try to escape. He tugs you closer, the look in his eyes becoming a bit darker once you’re close enough for his lips to brush your temple.

“You should listen to your doctor.” His voice is lower, a delicious-sounding threat edged in his words. “I’m the only one who knows what he’s talkin’ about,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, confused for half a second—until you remember Zayne. The actual licensed doctor who’s patched you up on more than one occasion. Who Caleb wishes you didn’t have to see anymore.

You smirk, deciding to play along. “But Doctor Caleb forgot something important,” you whisper, running your bandaged finger down his chest. “You didn’t prescribe any medicine for the pain.”

His brows arch, curiosity and heat mixing in his gaze.

You lean in just a little closer, your voice dropping to a teasing purr. “And I was such a good little trooper, helping you with your model kit all afternoon. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

💕 tag list: @heartyluv @doeeyes515 @lethalasylum @starryeyed-apple @starlitfics @craeatio @rafayelslittlestar @ruralamours @alyssac9 @blushofeve @alastor-simp @nezuswritingdesk

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dividers by @/sister-lucifer

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throttleheart · 2 months ago

Text

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Page 237

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, best friends to something more, magical realism,

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You come across a library book that somehow knows more about your future with Lando than either of you do.

⸻

You find it on a rainy Tuesday, the kind where the world feels a little softer around the edges.

The library is nearly empty, save for the quiet hum of the radiator and the occasional patter of water against the windows. You wander aimlessly, letting your fingers drift along the spines of forgotten novels, not looking for anything — and somehow, that’s when it finds you.

A navy blue book.

No title. No author. No markings except for a tiny, handwritten label tucked inside the sleeve: “To the one who needs it most.”

You hesitate. Then you smile, because you’ve always liked old books—the way they smell faintly like dust and stories, the way their pages sigh when you turn them—and maybe today, you do need something. Even if you don’t know what yet.

Without thinking twice, you check it out.

You toss it in your bag, where it rests between a half-eaten granola bar and the sweater you forgot you packed, and you almost forget about it altogether until later that night.

⸻

At first, it feels like nothing.

The pages are filled with moments, snippets of dialogue, descriptions of places that feel strangely familiar. You chalk it up to coincidence. Déjà vu, maybe. The mind playing tricks.

Until you open it one night while waiting for Lando to come over.

And there it is.

A paragraph describing, in perfect detail, the exact conversation you had with him last week, driving back from the karting track. Right down to the offhand comment about your questionable snack choices and the way you retaliated by whacking him with your water bottle, his exaggerated groan echoing through the car.

When you show it to him, he thinks you’re winding him up.

He reads it out loud, laughing—until he doesn’t.

Until his laughter fades into something quieter, something wary.

“Okay,” he says, setting the book down carefully like it might burn him. “That’s… weird.”

You flip through the rest, heart thudding.

Near the back, Page 237 is dog-eared. The only page marked.

You and Lando lean over it together, breathless.

But it’s blank.

⸻

Over the next few weeks, the book keeps changing.

Moments you haven’t lived yet spill onto the pages like spilled ink.

A coffee you accidentally knock over in a café in Nice.

A tiny fight over directions, ending in laughter rather than anger.

A rainstorm in Monaco, both of you sprinting to hide in a souvenir shop, dripping and breathless and a little too close.

Every time, it feels like the book is leading you somewhere. Like it’s nudging you, whispering secrets you’re not quite ready to hear.

Lando acts like he doesn’t care. He teases you about it, rolls his eyes, pretends it’s just a coincidence.

But you notice the way he checks it when he thinks you’re not looking.

The way his fingers linger on the pages, like maybe—just maybe—he’s hoping it’ll tell him something he doesn’t know how to ask.

And you pretend not to notice, because you’re scared too.

Scared of what it means.

Scared of what the final page might say.

⸻

One night, after a long flight and a later-than-planned dinner, Lando falls asleep on your couch with the book balanced precariously on his chest.

You find him like that: head tipped back, mouth slightly open, one arm flung dramatically over the side. The sight makes your heart ache in a way you don’t have words for.

You sit beside him, careful not to wake him, and stare at the book.

Wondering. Hoping. Dreading.

He stirs when you brush his hand by accident, blinking blearily up at you.

“It updated,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

You freeze.

Your pulse jumps.

“Page 237?” you whisper.

He nods, sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There’s something in his expression—nervous, hopeful—that makes your throat tighten.

Together, you open the book.

⸻

They never saw it coming. Not like this. Not in a kitchen filled with leftover takeout and half-said things. But when he kissed her, it wasn’t surprising at all. It was always going to end up here.

⸻

You stare at the words until they blur.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment.

Then—slowly, so slowly you think you might shatter—Lando turns to you.

His voice is barely a whisper.

“Can I?”

Your breath catches. Your hands shake.

But you nod.

And when he kisses you, it’s not fireworks.

It’s something quieter. Deeper. Like a sigh you’ve been holding in for years finally slipping free.

It feels like the soft turn of a page.

Like a bookmark sliding into place.

Like the end of a story you didn’t know you were writing together—and the beginning of something even bigger.

Something that’s only just getting started.

⸻

Later that night, after the kiss—the first of many—you sit curled together on the couch, the navy blue book resting between you.

It feels different now.

Heavier, almost. Like it’s holding its breath.

You trace the edge of the dog-eared page, the one that brought you here, and for a moment, you wonder if that’s it. If the book has finished its story. If it’s time to close it and put it back on some forgotten shelf for the next person who needs it.

But Lando’s hand brushes yours, and he nods toward the book.

“Look,” he murmurs, voice warm against your skin.

You glance down.

Page 237 isn’t blank anymore.

Below the last line—the one about the kitchen and the kiss—a new paragraph has appeared, the ink still shimmering faintly like it’s becoming right in front of you:

⸻

The story never really ends. It just changes shape. They laughed through storms and fought over silly things and built a life stitched together by small, stubborn, extraordinary love. And if you asked them when it all started, they’d both say: right here. Right now.

⸻

Your throat tightens.

Lando reads it too, silent for a long moment, then lets out a breath that sounds a lot like wonder.

“I guess…” he says, voice low and a little shaky, “I guess we’re the ones writing it now.”

You smile at him through the tears gathering in your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “We are.”

The book lies open between you, but you don’t need it anymore to know what comes next.

You already know—

Rainy mornings tangled in blankets.

Shared coffees and missed flights.

Quiet arguments and quieter apologies.

Laughing until your ribs ache.

Loving each other fiercely, messily, wonderfully.

You know the chapters ahead will be messy, and beautiful, and completely your own.

And somewhere, you think, the book smiles too.

⸻

A week later, you find the book sitting by the window, where the sunlight catches it just right.

The cover has changed.

Where once it was blank and navy blue, there’s now a tiny, handwritten title in curling gold letters:

”Our Story.”

You pick it up.

But when you flip through the pages, they’re all empty.

Waiting.

Waiting for you and Lando to fill them, one imperfect, perfect day at a time.

⸻

A few nights after the kiss — when everything between you feels softer, warmer, but still a little new — you catch Lando doing something suspicious.

You hear him muttering in the living room.

When you peek around the corner, you see him standing over the navy blue book, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a pen tucked behind his ear.

“Lando?” you call.

He jumps like he’s been caught committing a crime.

“Nothing!” he blurts way too fast. “Just, uh, reading.”

You narrow your eyes and cross the room.

He’s holding a crumpled piece of paper like he’s about to feed it to the book.

“You’re writing to the magic book now?” you tease, reaching for the paper.

He tries to yank it away but you’re quicker.

Unfolding it, you find — in Lando’s messy, hurried handwriting — this:

⸻

“Dear weird magic book,

Can you make her fall for me even more?

(Not that she isn’t already a little bit obsessed.)

Thanks, love you.”

⸻

You stare at it.

Then you look at him.

Lando turns bright pink — the same shade as a sunset — and shrugs sheepishly.

“I mean,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “couldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

You burst out laughing, your heart twisting in the most unfairly fond way possible.

“You idiot,” you giggle, shoving his shoulder. “I already do.”

He brightens instantly, like a sunflower turning toward the light.

“Yeah?” he says, almost shy.

“Yeah,” you say, and kiss him, slow and certain.

⸻

Later, when you’re curled up on the couch together — the book forgotten between you — you flip it open absentmindedly.

There, scribbled in the corner of a blank page, you spot a new line of gold handwriting:

⸻

He never needed the book’s help. He had her heart already.

⸻

You don’t show it to Lando.

You just tuck the book closed with a little smile, feeling the truth of it settle quietly between your ribs.

Some things — the best things — don’t need magic at all.

You think that’s the end of it — Lando’s little letter to the book, the secret golden message, the way he practically floated around you all night after you kissed him again.

But you should have known better.

Because a few days later, you catch him at it again.

⸻

You walk into the kitchen one morning to find Lando hunched over the book, tongue poking out in concentration, scribbling furiously on another scrap of paper.

“You’re seriously still trying?” you ask, laughing as you lean against the counter.

He startles, clutching the note dramatically to his chest like it’s a state secret.

“I’m just… negotiating,” he says defensively.

“Negotiating with the magic book?”

“Exactly.”

You hold out your hand expectantly.

With a long, suffering sigh, he hands over the note.

This one reads:

⸻

“Dear magic book,

Okay, Plan B.

Can you make her want to marry me someday?

(Like… way, way in the future. Chill. No rush. Just… you know. If you’re taking requests.)

Thanks again.

P.S. I’ll owe you one.”

⸻

You stare at it.

Then you stare at him.

He looks terrified and hopeful all at once, like a golden retriever who knows he just knocked over a priceless vase.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, but your voice is too soft, too full of something that makes his eyes shine.

He shrugs, all fake-casual.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

You don’t answer with words.

You just walk over, wrap your arms around his middle, and press your face into his chest — feeling the frantic thud of his heart against your cheek.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his hoodie.

“Your idiot,” he whispers, arms tightening around you.

⸻

That night, after he falls asleep with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair, you open the book one last time.

There’s no golden message this time.

Instead, the book has left a simple drawing at the top of a new page:

A little doodle of two stick figures holding hands.

One has messy curls.

The other is wearing a crown.

You laugh so quietly it shakes in your chest, and you press a kiss to Lando’s forehead without waking him.

Because honestly?

You think you’ll say yes one day.

Even without the book.

Especially without it.

Because love — the real kind — doesn’t need spells or magic or perfect timing.

Just two idiots who keep choosing each other.

Again and again and again.

⸻

You catch him again a few days later, crouched over the navy blue book like it’s some kind of ancient oracle.

But this time, he’s not asking about you.

Not exactly.

He’s asking everything else.

⸻

“Oi,” he whispers to the book, tapping the cover like he’s knocking on a secret door. “Serious question.”

Pause.

“Will I ever beat Max at golf?”

He leans in, like he’s expecting the book to actually answer.

Silence.

He nods, very seriously.

“Right, right, you’re probably busy. No pressure. Next one—will my next helmet design look cool? Like… really cool? Not ‘I tried to be artsy and now it looks like spaghetti’ cool?”

He scribbles a quick note and shoves it under the book like he’s filing paperwork with the universe.

“And while we’re at it,” he mutters, “can you make my cooking not taste like sadness? Asking for a friend.”

He glances around guiltily.

You duck behind the doorway before he sees you, biting your fist to hold back a laugh.

Because somehow, watching Lando have a full-on business meeting with a magic library book is the best thing you’ve seen all week.

⸻

Later, when he’s out of the room, you flip open the book.

Sure enough, new scribbles have appeared in the familiar gold handwriting, quick and a little smug:

⸻

“Max will always be better at golf.

Your next helmet will be very cool.

Your cooking… is a lost cause.

(But she loves you anyway.)”

⸻

You laugh so hard you have to sit down.

When Lando finds you curled up on the couch wheezing with laughter, you just point helplessly at the open book.

He reads it, face slowly turning bright red.

“Hey!” he yelps, grabbing a cushion and half-heartedly throwing it at the book like it somehow betrayed him. “I was trying, okay?”

You wipe your eyes, gasping, “I love you, even if you burn toast.”

He pouts dramatically but you can see the smile tugging at his mouth.

“Magic book’s a snitch,” he grumbles.

You lean over, kissing his cheek.

“Maybe. But it’s not wrong.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap with a huff.

“Fine,” he says, pretending to be grumpy. “New rule. No more consulting the magic book unless it’s about both of us.”

You grin.

“I dunno,” you tease. “I kind of like knowing you’ll never beat Max at golf.”

He groans and hides his face in your shoulder.

And somewhere on the coffee table, the book’s pages flutter again — like it’s laughing with you.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

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stxrryskys · 5 months ago

Note

STARRY MY LOVE I HAVE THE BEST FUCKING UDEA

Can you do headcanons of the MW crew of when they find that the reader has drawn the most down bad positions of them and the member of the crew? Then When they're asked about it they try to just write it off as anatomy practice?

YES YES YES!

C/W : Suggestive! Smut for goonsuke... Fweaky sex positions and yeah!

Daisuke:

your major was art, times were tough so you got an internship at pony express. when you boarded the tulpar you brought a sketch book so you didn't get bored. you became very close with daisuke almost instantly, he matched your energy so well he was literally you but a male, anyways, you were on the couch in the "living room" one day and you were drawing.. Drawing freaky stuff.. You liked to practice anatomy but you feel like you spaces out and drew two figures 69ing...while standing up.. And then you looked really closely at it and the male figure looked like daisuke and the women looked a bit like you.. Then as soon as you came to that Realization, daisuke walked in

"Hey dude! Whatcha up to? " you quickly sat on your sketch book and started a conversation with him

An eternity went by and you guys were laughing

"I gotta piss" you said abruptly, you sat up and skipped to the bathroom then he notices the sketchbook sitting on the couch and got curious and flipped though it

He flushed a bright shade a red when he saw the detailed position on one of the pages.. Then he looked closer and closer and saw that it kinds looked like.. HIM?! Shit.. What would he say to-

"DAISUKE! PUT THAT DOWN!! " you ran and hopped on top of him in an attempt to get him to put it down

"S-sorry I-i- got curious!! " he said as you hop on him

"That's - it was just- anatomy practice!! I swear!! "

"I-i- believe you !! "

Goonsuke:

"Is that me "____"?? If you wanted to do something like that with me then you could've just said so~"

So with your consent he waited till everyone went to sleep and did that EXACT position with you, just because he's young does NOT mean he lacks arm strength. He literally used to beat his shit everyday before the tulpar(and he's a baseball player 😻😻)

"Fuck you taste so fucking goo- ah-! "

Curly:

If you're being honest, you're terrified of curly, He is a really big guy and he looks like he could totally pound you into the concrete if he wanted to but your perspective on curly changed the second you accidentally walked in on him changing.

you drew as a hobby to pass the time and you thought you were pretty good at it, you definitely liked realism more than anything else and you kinda... zoned out? and when you looked back at your sketch book it was a RAUNCHY position,, specifically of you and curly, he was holding you, like up while slamming you onto his cock, you had to hide this before anyone could come snoop-

"_____? you in here?"

shit

"U-uh no!!"

But it was to late.. He was already in here

"Whatcha drawing kiddo? "

"NOTHING!? "

"Nothing?? C'mon lemme see" he snatched your sketch book and his eyes widened... Oh you're cooked

"C-captain! Put that down please!! " he just ignored your pleads and continued to examine the drawing

"... That me sugar? " he looked down at you with a lustful look in his eyes

"I-it was just anatomy practice!! "

He set down the sketch book and and grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up on your desk like it was nothing

"Curly?? "

"You wanna recreate that with me baby? "

Anya:

You were anyas intern, she was a super sweet lady, you and her got along well, you enjoyed her company, when she wasn't all shy and quiet she was super sweet and funny, at the moment you and her were sitting in the medical room chatting late at night and you brought up your drawing hobby and she wanted to dabble in it! So you got your sketch book and showed her some of your sketches, then... She flipped to one page....

"Ah! Uhm!! S-sorry "___" I didn't mean to flip to-"

yet she continued to stare at it, and she purposefully moved into a position to where you couldn't retrieve the sketchbook

"A-anya! give it back"

"Im looking! gimme a sec!'"

you hop on top of her, causing her to fall back on the medical table

the sketch in question? just you. and anya! ,,,,,scissoring and she was just enamored with the drawing, even when you kept trying to take it

Now, anya was feeling bold, she hooked her legs around your waist and brought you closer

"So? Is that how you really feel about me? "

Jimmy:

Jimmy hated you and you hated him. It had always been like that, he was a dick, the LAST thing you wanted was to be his friend, especially on the tulpar.

He would constantly make fun of your art. He thought of you as "mediocore" so you'd usually only draw when you were alone because Jimmy was EVERYWHERE!

You were at the tiny little desk in your quarters and you were drawing what came to mind, you didn't really know but you could wing it.

Finally!! You were finished!! Leeeets take a loo-.... What is that.. AH! WHAT THE FUCK!! YOU DREW YOU!! AND- AND JIMMY HE WAS ON- ON TOP OF YOU WHILE YOUR LEGS WERE OVER YOUR OWN SHOULDERS- damn. You were NOT that flexible. You didn't really realize this before but..jimmy was actually really- attractive?? Before you could comprehend... Jimmy walked in

"Hey! My laundry got mixed up with - dude what the fuck is that?? " he pointed to the sketch book

"Nothing!! "

"Nothing my ass! Is- is that me?! "

"NO! GET OUT!! "

"What the fuck??.. Is this who you really are? Just some slut? " well that was actually really hot and you didn't even know you were into that

"I-it was just anatomy practice! "

"Bullshit... You really are a slut" he moved closer and backs you up against the desk, hands on either side of you

"Yknow.. You've never looked as good as you do now.. I guess it's when you're being a little pervert.. Now..we're gonna do that"

A/N FINALLY!! I'M DONE!! I'm sorry it's taken me forever to get this out because oh my god. I've been so freaky sick, we have a bug going around😣😣 and I've had to get back into therapy so I haven't been doing all that great 😮‍💨 BUT I'M ALIVE! I'M SORRH!! ENJOY! N

#mouthwashing smut #smut #idk what im doing 😔#mouthwashing #please request #curly x reader smut #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke smut #anya mouthwashing #anya x reader smut #jimmy x reader smut #jimmy smut #jimmy mouthwashing

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deezee112 · 7 months ago

Text

A Decision to Make

Chapter 1 | The worst ending 1

A/N : I decided to make a part 2 because I saw that people liked my little idea. I'm so glad you liked it!

If this chapter is finished, I will go write the "worst ending" which is the boys.

Warning : This story contains themes of psychological tension , unease , an unsettling relationship dynamic between a protagonist and a mysterious humanoid object , y/n is a hot-tempered and tall person.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the doll, now seated upright on you couch, its unsettlingly realistic features illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through your apartment’s curtains. The doll no, the child was unlike anything you had ever seen.

It was designed to look like a young boy, somewhere between eight and twelve years old. Its face was delicate, almost too perfect, with skin that looked touchably soft, faintly blushed cheeks, and glassy eyes that seemed to follow your every move. It wore a simple outfit a plain shirt and pants that looked like they’d been picked out of a catalog

You crossed you arms, narrowing your eyes at it. “ So, this is my life now, huh? Babysitting a hyper realistic doll while Crowley pretends this is normal. ”

The doll, of course, didn’t respond. It simply sat there, motionless and silent, but its very presence seemed to dominate the room.

You walked to the kitchen and poured youself another cup of coffee. You mind was spinning as you tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Crowley hadn’t given you any real instructions beyond vague platitudes about care and confidentiality. What exactly was you supposed to do with it? Did it have a purpose? Could it think?

As the rich scent of coffee filled the air, you leaned against the counter and stared at the doll from afar. “ I should just return it. March back into that office and tell Crowley he’s out of his mind. Let someone else deal with this. ”

But even as you said the words, you knew you wouldn’t. Crowley had a way of making you feel trapped. Four years of working under him had taught you that refusing his " special assignments " only led to more trouble. And besides…

Your glanced at the doll again, you frown deepening. There was something about it something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It wasn’t just its unsettling realism. It was the way it seemed to be there, as though it were more than just an object.

“ Damn it ” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “ Why do I always get stuck with the weird stuff? ”

After finishing you breakfast, You decided to get a closer look at you peculiar new charge. You approached the doll cautiously, half expecting it to suddenly blink or move. When it didn’t, you crouched down in front of it, you eyes scanning its face.

Its expression was neutral but oddly serene, like a child caught mid thought. The craftsmanship was impeccable every detail, from the faint freckles on its nose to the slight sheen on its lips, was painstakingly precise. You reached out and touched its hand, startled by how warm it felt.

“ This is insane ” you muttered, pulling your hand back quickly.

You circled the doll, inspecting it from all angles. There didn’t seem to be any obvious signs of robotics no seams, no wires, no panels. Yet it wasn’t purely-organic either. It existed in some strange in between state, blurring the lines between artificial and alive.

“ What are you, exactly? ” you asked aloud, as if expecting an answer.

Silence

" cool... " You cross your arms and With a sigh, you sat down on the couch beside it, keeping a cautious distance. “ Okay. Let’s think about this logically. Crowley wouldn’t give me something dangerous… probably. So, either this is some kind of advanced tech demo, or it’s… I don’t know, magic? ”

The word felt ridiculous on you tongue, but considering who you boss was, it wasn’t entirely out of the question. Crowley had always had a flair for the dramatic, and you wouldn’t put it past him to pull something out of left field.

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “ Why me? Why not someone else? Someone who actually likes kids? ”

The doll remained silent, unmoving.

As the hours passed, You found yourself pacing the apartment, you thoughts racing. What was you supposed to do with it? Was you really expected to raise it like a child? That couldn’t be right—could it?

You phone buzzed on the counter, breaking you train of thought. You grabbed it and saw another message from Crowley.

How’s it going with the little one? Don’t forget feed it, talk to it, treat it like a real child. These are crucial developmental stages, after all!

You groaned, resisting the urge to throw you phone across the room. “ Treat it like a real child ” you muttered. “ Sure, why not? Because this is totally normal... ”

You set the phone down and glanced back at the doll. Despite you initial resistance, you found herself feeling a pang of… something. Pity? Responsibility? You wasn’t sure. But the idea of simply ignoring it felt wrong.

“ Fine ” you said aloud, rubbing you temples. “ Let’s see what you can do. ”

You spent the next hour tentatively testing the doll’s capabilities. Your offered it a glass of water, surprised when it tilted its head slightly and opened its mouth to drink. You spoke to it, asking simple questions, though it didn’t respond verbally. Instead, it blinked slowly or nodded, its movements smooth and eerily lifelike.

When you touched its hand again, it gripped your faintly, its skin warm and soft. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was trying to communicate, even without words.

By the time the sun began to set, Your was sitting on the floor in front of the doll, studying it intently. It was undeniably strange, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There was something almost endearing about its childlike mannerisms, the way it tilted its head when you spoke or blinked up at your with those unnervingly realistic eyes.

“ So, you eat, you drink, and you blink ” you said, ticking off items on your fingers. “ But you don’t talk. Or walk. Or do anything remotely useful. Great. Just great. ”

The doll blinked at you, its expression unchanging.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “ What am I supposed to do with you? Crowley really expects me to raise you like a kid? That’s insane. ”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t deny the faint flicker of curiosity growing inside you. What if your did try? What if you treated it like a real child, just to see what would happen?

You stared at the doll for a long moment, weighing you options. You could call Crowley and demand he take it back, or you could…

You shook you head, a wry smile tugging at you lips. “ This is ridiculous. ”

The doll tilted its head slightly, as if sensing you hesitation.

“ Okay ” you said finally, running a hand through you hair. “ Let’s give this a shot. But if you start moving around on your own, I’m locking you in a closet, got it? ”

The doll blinked again.

You chuckled despite yourself. “ All right, then. I guess the first step is figuring out what to call you. ”

You leaned forward, studying its face. There was something neutral about its features, neither overtly feminine nor masculine. It felt like a blank canvas, waiting for you to paint it with meaning.

“ Okay ” you said slowly, a faint smile playing at you lips. “ What should I name you? ”

The doll’s glassy eyes seemed to shimmer faintly in the fading light, and for a moment, You could have sworn she saw a flicker of recognition in its gaze.

But it was probably just you imagination.

#yandere twst #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #twst yuu #au doll

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

Text

the secret life of jun | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. in which jun gets set up on a blind date by his best friend. PAIRING. zoolinguist!wen junhui x gn!reader (ft. minghao, gyu the golden retriever, boo the duckling, and lil mentions of some members as their representative animals. not hybrids.) GENRE. fluff, humour, kinda strangers to lovers, magic-realism au WARNINGS. cursing, jun just being a very cute awkward shy boy :(, my first attempt at something remotely magic/fantasy WORD COUNT. 3k

notes: this is for the caratlibrary secret gift exchange event! and therefore, this gift is for @phenomenalgirl9 who also gifted a fic for me hehe. i hope you enjoy <3 this is also my first time writing something remotely fantasy/magic, so... feedback is welcome! ty to my lovely moots who read this over for me ^^

"Jun! Can you tell your dog to get the fuck off me?" Minghao attempts to shove away the ever-persistent golden retriever pawing and licking at his face, but Jun doesn't seem to hear, seemingly engrossed on something else entirely in the kitchen.

Minghao just groans annoyedly, and just as he's about to call out for his best friend's name again, a thought crosses his mind. A sort-of stupid one that he knows won't work, but he'll try it out anyway.

He brings a hand up, watching the dog follow it with curiosity, and he points to the ground while firmly saying, "Down."

Unfortunately, the dog only tilts his head inquisitively, as if dazed and confused by the action, before relentlessly pouncing on the boy again, and all he could do is surrender himself to the attack of excitement. Right, he thinks, these animals don't exactly understand him normally.

Jun finally emerges from the kitchen after what feels like an eternity, a black cat cuddled gently in his arms, lightly running his fingers through its fur carefully. When he picks his head up, he could only chuckle at the sight in front of him. Minghao only rolls his eyes, shooting a playful glare to his best friend who only seems amused.

"Your dog is a menace," Minghao declares, wiping away the slobber from his face.

"Come on! Gyu just likes you."

"I'm not sure I share the sentiment right now," Minghao replies almost coldly, perhaps even half-jokingly, attempting to regain his composure.

Jun just sighs and sends out a whistle from his lips to get the dog's attention. And with a subtle look from just his eyes, as if sending a silent signal, Gyu hops off the couch and trots over to Jun, letting out a few barks in response.

"He says he doesn't like your attitude today," Jun translates, setting the cat in his hands down on the floor. "but he's forgiven you."

"Gee, thanks," Minghao scoffs and crosses his arms together, still trying to maintain a façade of irritation, though it's quite easy to see right through it.

He watches for some time as Jun crouches down to the dog's level, the two of them communicating in a way he knows he can never understand, but is grown to be amazed by every time. It isn't a secret that he knows that his own best friend can communicate with animals, as strange as that might sound (because... it's true), but it's a fact he's fully accepted.

Jun probably has more animal friends than human friends at this point. He's made friends with the birds at the park, the stray cats that roam the streets, a deer that comes to visit occasionally behind his place, an otter that frequents at a nearby pond, hell even one of the tigers at the zoo𑁋the list goes on.

And not to exactly complain, but he also really wants Jun to find a fucking partner.

Not that it's a bad thing Jun isn't seeing anyone, and it totally isn't the entire reason why Minghao is here right now. He has tried to set Jun up on dates, but the older boy almost always manages to find some excuse or simply doesn't show up, claiming he got caught up in a conversation with a stray cat or a butterfly on the way. Or the date ends up in disaster with a chase down the street of the neighbourhood raccoons stealing food.

But then again, that's Jun for you𑁋unpredictable.

"One more date."

Jun raises his head, and the moment he sees that particular smirk to Minghao's face, he groans.

"No."

"Oh, come on, just one more," Minghao insists. "I promise you'll like them. They're an animal lover."

"Just because they're an animal lover doesn't mean𑁋"

"You're either going to be drinking 'till you're absolutely couch-ridden on new year's because you're single and lonely again, or you could be celebrating with someone special. Your call, dude."

Jun finds his face flushing out of embarrassment, scratching absentmindedly behind Gyu's ears as Minghao's words wash over him. Then his features soften, and he lets out a sigh.

"Fine," he relents. "One more."

Shit, he's screwed. The minute Minghao told him the date would be happening in the middle of the park where he often chatted with the local squirrels and ducks, Jun knew this already wouldn't end well.

He also had quite the love-hate relationship with blind dates𑁋or dates in general, to be honest𑁋and the thought of meeting a stranger made his palms sweat even with the cold threatening through his thick coat (he's convinced that Minghao is pulling anyone out of his ass at this point).

The park is covered with a light blanket of snow, the trees standing tall and glowing with strings of fairy lights against the grey winter sky. Jun shivers in place and adjusts the scarf around his neck, partially from the cold and partially from the impending awkwardness he anticipates.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry for being late! The traffic was awful coming here and I got a bit lost..."

The voice is frantic and panicky to Jun's ears akin to his equally panicking heart, who turns around to a figure rushing up to him, covered in layers and letting out misty breaths that appear in the air.

"It's okay," Jun says, voice coming out a bit awkward. He offers a reassuring smile. "I'm, uh... Jun, by the way."

"Y/N," You say, relieved as you finally catch your breath and look up at him with a cute grin. "I'm so sorry for being late. I hope you weren't waiting for too long."

"Oh, not at all. I... just got here as well." It's a bit of a white lie𑁋he was beginning to worry you ditched him, honestly. Jun feels his hands fidget in his pockets nervously, yet he sees the ease that washes over your features at his words, and he relaxes slightly. There's something about the way you carry yourself and the slight blush on your cheeks from the cold that eases some of his tension.

And maybe, just maybe, his heart stutters a little at your smile, like a startled butterfly in his chest. Did the lights at the park grow brighter?

"Would you like to, uh, maybe grab some hot chocolate?" Jun suggests, gesturing towards the small, lit up kiosk nestled in the corner of the park that seemed quite busy with customers. "It can help... warm you up."

Your eyes light up to his words, grinning. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As you both walk towards the kiosk, the air seems to crackle with a nervous energy Jun hadn't expected. Despite the awkwardness gnawing at him, he can't deny the strange sense of hope fluttering in his stomach, somewhat like a small bird unsure of its flight. He's not the best at dates and probably never will be, but for some reason, feeling this sort of apprehension is unlike anything else he's felt. It's not uncomfortable per se, but more... exciting?

The two of you stand in the back of the line, shoulder-to-shoulder, hands tucked deep in your pockets and sharing silences punctuated by the occasional nervous giggle when your eyes meet. The line at the kiosk is surprisingly long, a mix of bundled-up families with laughing children and young couples warming their hands around steaming plastic cups.

When your shoulder brushes against his, Jun freezes for a moment, feeling a warmth spreading through him that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate. He steals a glance at you, finding your gaze already on him, and there's a shy smile that you both share before you look away first.

Then Jun notices it𑁋you're shivering.

It's almost imperceptible at first, a slight tremor running through your shoulders as you shift your weight from foot to foot. He hesitates for a moment, then a nervous breath leaves him. Fuck it.

Without a word, he unravels the wooly scarf from around his neck and drapes it over you, fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary as he adjusts it comfortably. You blink up at Jun with wide eyes.

"Sorry I, uh... noticed you were cold," he mumbles, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.

You glance at him, surprise evident in your eyes, and then you chuckle. "Are you sure? I don't want you to freeze."

"I'll be alright," Jun just assures calmly, though the chill creeping up his neck is a bit hard to hide now.

The line moves forward, and soon you're ordering hot chocolate for the both of you. Jun pays for both, insisting with a small nod when you attempt to pull out your wallet.

As Jun and you clutch the steaming cups, the warmth radiating through the thin plastic felt almost comforting. The park bustles around you, but with each sip, the outside world seems to fade away, leaving only the diffident hum of conversation and the fluttering hope that dances between you.

"So, uh, what kind of animals do you like?" Jun asks, trying to break the ice as you both trail down an empty path close to the icy pond nearby. He's not exactly smooth with conversation, but he figures asking about your supposed love for animals is a safe bet. "I've been told you like them."

Your eyes light up as you take a swift, long sip of the hot chocolate, the warmth quickly spreading through you.

"Oh, all kinds!" You answer eagerly. "I volunteer at an animal shelter not that far from here and take care of the injured ones. I have a lot of pets at home too𑁋a hamster, a dog, a few cats, a rabbit... How about you?"

You spoke so quickly that Jun could barely register it all, but he can't help but grin at your enthusiasm. It’s almost infectious.

"Wow, I have, uh... a dog and a cat at home... Gyu and Woozi are their names," Jun replies slowly, almost unsurely.

"That's really cute!" You tell him, catching the way the corners of his lips crinkle up just slightly and how he has to angle his face down just to hide it. "My hamster's name is Hoshi! My dog is Minnie, my rabbit is Hannie, and my cats are Wonu, Nonie..."

Listening to you list your pets' names and some of the ones you've taken care of at the shelter makes Jun feel just a tiny bit lighter with each step he takes with you, and also from the way your eyes sparkle with every word you spoke. He finds himself letting out giggles at your stories of Hoshi's escape attempts and Min's stubborn streak, and for the first time in a long time, he feels truly comfortable, truly seen in a way that didn't feel fake.

Yet it doesn't take long for that feeling to falter just slightly. He doesn't know what Minghao exactly told you about him, or if anything at all𑁋how does he explain to you that he can quite literally talk to animals?

He knew that spilling the beans could go one of two ways: either you'd think he was crazy, or you'd be amazed (and maybe even a little scared). He's never exactly revealed it to any person he goes on a date with because, in the end, after a handful of mishap encounters with animals that don't mean to ruin the date, they end up leaving anyway.

Should he tell you? The words dance on his tongue, ready to tumble out, but that unwanted fear of rejection holds him back once again.

But before he can say anything, a squeaky quack pierces through the air, snapping Jun out of his thoughts. He looks down to see a small duckling waddling towards them, its tiny yellow head bobbing with each step. It stops in front of you, tilting its head inquisitively as it looks you up and down curiously, before heading to Jun's feet and quacking loudly.

It's Boo, one of the park's young resident chatterboxes who loves nothing more than socialising and the occasional spread of gossip. Jun had befriended Boo a while back, often sharing stories and snacks by the pond. But what was Boo doing here, and why does he look so worried? Jun could almost hear a frantic heartbeat echoing through the duckling's chest.

Boo lets out a series of rapid quacks. Jun strains to decipher the splurge of words, picking up snippets about stolen food and a local raccoon, and... how one of his siblings is stuck somewhere.

"Oh my gosh, you're so cute!" You exclaim, kneeling down upon noticing the young duck in front of Jun and extending a tentative hand. "What are you doing out here, little one? You're going to freeze."

Jun could only listen as the distraught duck spills its frustration on you. Yet you didn't understand anything, only continuing to coo about how cute the duckling is, and Jun watches as Boo looks up at him with pleading eyes, urging him to do something. He knew he had to act, but he glances at you, still kneeling with outstretched hand at Boo, and his mind races.

Should he explain his... ability to you and risk making you uncomfortable? Or maybe try to handle it on his own, somehow decipher Boo's instructions and lead you on a cryptic animal rescue mission that might look completely bizarre, delusional, and psychotic?

"Do you think it's lost?" You ask worriedly, glancing back up at Jun. And when his gaze catches yours, warm and hopeful in the glow of the fairy lights surrounding you, a surge of determination pulses through him.

Jun only quietly chuckles at Boo's attempts to tell you his name, his tiny feathered body vibrating with slight annoyance, but your gentle cooing and outstretched hand seem to soothe him a little. The sight stirs something deep within him, a warmth that spreads beyond the simple comfort of the hot chocolate from earlier.

"He's not lost," Jun says, his gaze meeting yours. "He's... a friend. And he's telling us a story. Oh, and his name is Boo, by the way."

Your brow furrows in confusion, a tiny crease appearing between your eyes. “You… understand ducks?”

Jun offers a hesitant smile, a knot of anxiety twisting in his stomach. There's no going back now.

“It’s a bit more than that,” he admits sheepishly, watching your expression shift from curious to intrigued. “I can, um, like... sort of talk to animals, I guess. Or they sort of talk to me, basically, yeah..."

The silence that follows is deafening. Jun braces himself for a wave of disbelief, rejection, maybe even a startled shriek. But instead, your eyes widen with awe, a growing smile forms on your lips, and Jun can't quite bring himself to tear his gaze away from you. He'd taken a leap of faith, and you, instead of running for the hills, were looking at him with... wonder?

"Wow, that's..." You breathe, voice hushed with wonder. "I-I mean I always knew that... sort of existed? Like, in research papers and ancient history, but meeting someone who can actually do it is just..."

Jun blinks, a bit taken aback by your reaction.

"You're not... freaked out or anything?" he asks cautiously. "Like... you actually believe me?"

"Jun." You turn to him, shifting so that your knees are slightly touching in the snow. "Minghao told me like... a lot of things, or tried to at least. I mean, at first I found it ridiculous, then I realised that this is Xu Minghao telling me this, and if he's vouching for you, it must be true. And, well... I really wanted to get to know you too."

Oh. "Oh," Jun mutters, cheeks flushing and face burning. Minghao, of course. He should have known his best friend with a 'credible' reputation wouldn't simply set him up on a blind date without throwing him under the bus a little bit. "I mean, it-it's nothing too fascinating. No mind-reading or telepathy exactly, just… understanding their gestures and stuff. It's kind of like learning a new language, you know?"

"Well, can you tell me what Boo is saying then?" You quirk up expectantly, and Jun swears he cannot handle more than five seconds of you peering at him without melting completely. His heart does a little double flip in his chest, landing somewhere around his ankles.

Jun chuckles, a warm sound that feels right at home amidst the snowy air. Then he takes a deep breath, steadying himself under your gaze, before turning his attention back to the little duck at his feet.

"Alright, alright," he teases, ruffling Boo's feathers playfully. "Don't get jealous, little guy. Spill it."

Boo then goes on an insistent frenzy of quacks, and you could only watch in awe as Jun listens carefully, nodding and humming in response. There's a certain magic in the air that you can sense, as if you've stepped right into a fairytale of some sorts. The small duckling then looks up at you with begging eyes, as if seeking your help as well. Jun shoots you a quick glance, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"He's pretty worked up," he admits, clearing his throat. "He's telling me about a raccoon that stole his flock's food, and... um, one of his siblings is stuck in a log somewhere. I have some food with me, but he wants to find his sibling first. He knows the way."

"Then let's do it," You say, rising to your feet and dusting off the snow on your pants.

Jun hesitates again, staring at you in slight disbelief𑁋you want to come with him? He glances at Boo, who lets out a frustrated quack, urging him to make a decision. Then he looks back at you, your kind eyes holding his own, and suddenly the choice becomes clear.

"Do you trust me?" Jun asks softly, his heart pounding in his chest.

You hold his gaze for a moment, a thoughtful look on your face. Then a smile blooms across your lips, one that reaches your eyes and seems to chase away the worry.

"I trust you," You answer, stretching an open hand towards him.

Jun feels a warmth spread through him, and he grabs your hand in his. Relief and something else courses through him, like excitement and perhaps a bit of fear. You were in, and that was all that mattered.

Boo lets out a triumphant quack, and with him waddling excitedly at your feet, you follow Jun deeper into the park, the fairy lights casting long shadows against the snow-covered ground. It's a strange sight𑁋you walking on one side of Jun and a duckling trotting on the other𑁋but with every step, whatever awkwardness that was lingering seems to melt away.

And maybe, just maybe, something else was blossoming too.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify

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degenerateworm · 8 months ago

Text

Video games with Wesker!

I am a video game haver and player baby, so you bet my wormy ass I'm going to make some headcanons about playing games with my favourite man!

---

Wesker knows you like to play video games. Of course he does, when often you talk with him about your favourites; the lore, your favourite characters, your favourite mechanics, your gripes and least favourite things...

It's not that Albert has never been interested in them. He's just never had the time. Ever since you started dating him you've realised how much he neglects his own recreational time, so you aren't surprised that he wouldn't know much about something solely made for that purpose.

So you decided to introduce him to it. And, because he loves you, he lets you.

---

At first, he fails to see the point in it, because he's Albert fucking Wesker™, and he has things to do. But like always, you remind him that recreational time is important for one's health, making him huff and nod begrudgingly.

After a while, he starts to stare intensely at the screen as you play, pointing out things that you might have missed, and helping you with things you may not be the best at.

Albert Backseat Gamer Wesker.

And when you give him the controller, he has a small smile on his face, quickly getting used to the controls as you snuggle in beside him on the couch.

Although he does grumble a bit about having to take off his gloves to better play. And you know that this man, a master spy and infiltrator, would know how to work a keyboard and mouse.

---

The first game I see Albert really enjoy playing, is ironically, Project Zomboid. He likes the difficulty and realism of it, plus you bet my wormy ass he loves grinding out tedious tasks and zoning out, like body disposal and loot organising.

I feel like he would like crafting/survival games the most, but mainly realistic ones; so I don't think you'd find him playing Terraria or Minecraft anytime soon. Things like The Long Dark as well, awful situations are his favourites.

Wesker likes to take the lead in these games, assigning roles to each of you and making strategies for better survival.

When Albert likes a game though, he studies it like a syllabus. You know he would have memorised all of the exploits and timings for things.

---

Sometimes he ventures out into other games, but only if they are very in depth and thought out. You will almost never see him playing a fantasy, especially an RPG, because who else would he be other than himself? He doesn't have a very big imagination in these things.

So it's crazy when he tells you he's downloaded Baldur's Gate 3, and he wants you to play it with him.

Probably goes with the default appearance of races, although he finds out how to min max his character FAST. He'll find it hard to get into the roleplay aspect of it, so he will often ask you to talk to the npcs.

Doesn't bother with the Romance options, but he surprisingly doesn't mind when you go for them. Just be ready for his teasing, no matter who you choose.

---

If you want to play multiplayer online with him though, he will be a bit cautious. You'll have to explain to him that he can talk through text chat, and not have his voice on file.

He can even use a VPN if he wants! After that, Wesker will once again relent. After all, you've introduced him to a lot of nice things so far.

I don't actually know what kind of online games Wesker would like. I'm thinking simple team FPS ones would be the ones he gravitates to first; things like Overwatch and Apex Legends so that he can play with you.

He likes to turn off the voice volume for most of it, as the characters annoy him.

Usually stays in a discord call with you, but sometimes he orders his team around in text chat.

Or chats shit to someone if they're bad. You just KNOW he would make up the best roasts.

---

He doesn't see the appeal of single player games, other than to tell a story. If he wanted that, Wesker would just read a book.

But... Horror games. He won't tell you this, but some games of this genre give him ideas.

Maybe Wesker could bring this up in his lab later on...

---

THIS WAS ENTIRELY SELF INDULGENT PLEASE AND THANK YOU :D

#worm talk #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #wesker #re wesker #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #yandere #yandere albert wesker #yandere wesker #resident evil #re #re5

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senawashere · 1 year ago

Note

about those TGM requests

me with fanboy... that's it.

First rule...

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Female!Girlfriend!reader

Summary: Movie date night turns into a little lecture with Mickey.

A/n: Thank you sweetheart for requesting this!! Love you!!💋💋

Warnings: None just pure fluff,just kissing!

°•°•°•°•☆♡☆°•°•°•°

"What is the first rule of fight club sweetheart?" Mickey asked looking at you with a grin,soon to be a disappeard.

"What?" You ask. There is 50 second eye contact with Mickey and he looks at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“How have you never seen Fight Club before? How babe?”

Mickey’s shocked expression made laugh hard while he was still looking at you like you have 3 heads. That’s how you end up watching Fight Club for the first time

The night was crisp and chilly, the kind that made you want to curl up with someone you love under a thick blanket. And your boyfriend who freshly returned from a long deployment was looking good for this.

Mickey and you had settled into the couch, your legs tangled together under layers of soft, cozy throws. The dim light from the screen of your TV flickered across the room as the opening credits of "Fight Club" rolled.

Mickey had insisted on movie night after a long time, and you had eagerly agreed. He loved "Fight Club"—its gritty realism, the intense performances, and its provocative themes. It was the perfect escape. Mickey, however, had a tendency to dive into the details, dissecting every scene with an intensity he usually reserved for his flights.

"Did you know that David Fincher wanted the audience to feel the subconscious presence of Tyler Durden from the start?" Mickey's voice was animated, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "They actually spliced frames of Brad Pitt into scenes before his character was even introduced. It’s so subtle that you barely notice it."

You nodded, smiling at his enthusiasm. It was only 10 minutes and he was telling every fact he knew.

"That's pretty impressive," you said, trying to keep the conversation light. The last thing you wanted was to dampen his spirits, but you really just wanted to enjoy the movie without the running commentary. And with the movie being a hard one to understand you were struggling.

As the film progressed, Mickey continued his enthusiastic ramblings. "Right here!The chemical burn scene? They used vinegar and baking soda to create the smoke effect on Norton’s hand. And Fincher actually used footage of real skin-burning reactions for authenticity."

You nodded again, more absently this time. Your eyes were fixed on the screen, trying to lose yourself in the gritty visuals and dark humor, but Mickey's voice kept pulling you back. What the hell was going on in this movie? As you thought while Mickey gave you every single fact for every shot.

"For the scenes where they destroy the corporate art, they used a combination of practical effects and CGI. They really wanted it to look and feel anarchistic, like a real middle finger to consumer culture," Mickey continued, his voice unwavering in its excitement.

"Mickey," you said softly, hoping to gently steer him back to just watching. "I am really trying to understand it and it is very hard while you talk like this baby.”

He glanced at you, his smile apologetic but still eager. "Sorry, I just find all these little details fascinating. Like, did you know when Marla and Tyler were fucki—"

You leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his words mid-sentence. His lips were warm and soft, a stark contrast to the cool night air that seeped through the windows. For a moment, he was startled, but then he relaxed into the kiss, his hands finding their way to your waist.

When you finally pulled back, you looked into his eyes and saw a mixture of surprise and amusement. "I just really want to enjoy the movie," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the yelling from the narator.

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Got it," he said, his voice a gentle murmur. "I'll try to keep the commentary to a minimum."

"Thank you,my love" you said, snuggling closer to him. "But I do love your passion for it."

Mickey smiled and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. You lay there together, the movie playing on, and for a while, he managed to stay quiet. You lost yourself in the dark narrative, the twisted philosophy, and the raw performances.

But it wasn't long before Mickey couldn't help himself. "They filmed this scene in an actual abandoned building. Can you imagine how creepy that must have been?" Mickey continued, his voice unwavering in its excitement. You turned your head slightly to look at him, your expression a mix of exasperation and fondness. He caught your look and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry," he said, kissing your forehead. "I just got carried away."

"I know you do," you said with a sigh, though you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "It's one of the things I love about you."

You settled back into silence, and you tried to focus on the movie again. Mickey's arm was around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder. The warmth of his body next to yours, combined with the soothing rhythm of the film, was enough to make you forget the world outside.

But true to form, Mickey couldn't resist one last comment. "The ending... the whole twist with Tyler Durden being the Narrator's alter ego. Fincher hinted at it throughout the film with subliminal flashes of Tyler before he actually appears."

You didn't respond this time, just leaned your head against his shoulder and let the movie's final scenes wash over you. When the credits finally rolled, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, moved by the powerful conclusion. Mickey wiped the tear away with his thumb, his expression soft and tender. "Told you," he whispered.

You nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then you looked up at him and smiled. "You were right," you said. "It was brilliant."

He leaned down and kissed you again, and this time, you didn't stop him. The movie was over, but the night was still young, and there was no place you'd rather be than here, wrapped in Mickey's arms, sharing these quiet moments together.

“Okay baby,spill all the facts now.” You said watching him forming a big grin on his face.

“"The guy who plays the Narrator—Edward Norton—he actually punched Brad Pitt in one of the scenes. They wanted it to look as real as possible and also did you know that they used CGI to create some of these opening credits? That's so cool and you see the way the camera moves during this fight scene? It's a single take. No cuts. That takes incredible skill from both the actors and the crew and listen you know the scene where they blow up the buildings? We saw it right now. They used a combination of miniatures and CGI to get the perfect shot. It’s so realistic that people thought they actually demolished a skyscraper. And this is so funny, did you know that Brad Pitt and Edward Norton actually learned how to make soap for their roles in 'Fight Club'? They attended soap-making classes to prepare for their characters' underground soap business,isn’t so funny. And als-”

“Okay that’s enough baby please!!”

°•°•°•°☆♡☆°•°•°•°

Need a man like this🤭

I'm tagging people who might be interested: @ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @roosterforme @teacupsandtopgun @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove @atarmychick007 if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

#sena writes #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey garcia #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #fanboy x you #fanboy top gun #topgun maverick #top gun fan fiction #fight club #one shot

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a-simple-kpopper · 1 month ago

Text

How S8 FINALE should have gone:

- Athena and Bobby's house blessing followed by a barbecue party with everyone THEN an impromptu sleepover with the 118 fam

- Maddie and Chim beefing with each other over their son's name and getting everybody to side with them (It was either Daniel or KevinㅡCue S9 they named him Daniel Kevin then nicknamed DK [yes, as in Dokyeom])

- The kids taking over the living room playing video games THEN come night time, they'll be sleeping in one room.

- MADDIE AND EDDIE SCENE prompted by the name debate AND Maddie asking Eddie about how Buck as a HOUSEMATE is then Eddie would be babbling AND BLUSHING while sharing their daily routine and how Buck had baked him his own cookies that they left HOME because Buck does not want Eddie to share (~I'm happy to see him happy with you, Eddie. I meant with you AND Chris, of course."ㅡ she omitted the word "family" FOR NOWㅡ "Yeah, yeah, well I'm happy he's here-there with us too. It's always great to have Buck stayㅡlive with us, you know." [YES, MADDIE KNOWS.])

- MAY AND BUCK SCENE. May asking about Eddie and Chris living with him. ("So I guess you're not sleeping on the couch anymore?", "Course not. I have a room you know.", "Wait so Eddie and Chris share a room?" , "No. ME AND EDDIE share a room. A bed. It's a huge bed and comfortable AND was on sale when we bought it." , "Hmmkay. Well, I guess that works?" "Yeah it's like a permanent sleepover.") MAY GOSSIPS WITH RAVI ABT IT AFTER.

- KAREN giving an impromptu SPACE/SCIENCE lesson in the living room cause the kids were playing a space game then asked questions of the game's REALISM to awesome aunt Karen. Hen has the whole thing on video.

- Bobby was so happy about everything he could not take it and needed a moment so he went quickly to their bedroom just to take it all in. Of course, Athena noticed and excused herself from the group.

"Baby? Oh why the tears?" She said hugging Bobby and Bobby hugged her tighter before slightly pulling away from her embrace. "These are happy tears. I just can't believe that all thisㅡI have, we have this, this family Athena.", "Oh, you deserve this Bobby." , "We, Athena. WE do.", "Damn well right." They embraced each other, calm, strong, and dependable in their home they built together and is sharing and will be sharing with their family, the 118.

AND THE PARTY HAS THAT PHOTOBOOTH LIKE THEY DID IN THE EARLIER SEASON 😭😭😭

#911 abc #bathena #911 buddie #911 bathena #tag me here if you wanna use this for your story #i wanna read it so bad #alternate universe #911 madney #911 abc characters deserved so much better

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issuesntissues · 1 year ago

Text

watching a movie with 141—

Price

he’s a suspense/thriller type of guy, but also likes a good drama

despises romcoms and musicals (says they suck out the realism)

likes popcorn but doesn’t eat much of it

prone to falling asleep (he just gets really comfy)[typical peepaw behavior]

will glance at you to watch your reactions (and he’ll remember them too)

Gaz

Loves a good action flick but down for romance too

Definitely puts an arm around you regardless of what you’re watching 😳

Might skip on popcorn but he’ll always get some sort of candy

Will commentate on some things that you might not notice 👀

definitely the best person to watch a movie with out of the team tbh 😭

Soap

Loves action and comedy, anything loud with explosions & corny jokes

Horror movies make him uneasy, and he gets mad when the jump scares get him 😭

This mf loves popcorn he’s a never ending muncher, and you bet it’s getting stuck in the couch too

Will literally talk at the characters while watching, talk about how he’d feel if he was in whatever situation, make snide comments, just non stop yammering

Doesn’t fall asleep, but if he’s bored he’ll eat or get handsy 💀

Ghost

this mf loves his documentaries (nature ones are his favorite), and he loves horror movies (for obvious reasons 👀)

the quietest when it comes to movies, but he’ll let out a chuckle now and then

prefers other snacks than popcorn

if you’re really skittish during a horror movie he’ll put an arm around you (he’ll tease you about it later though)

Hates watching movies with Soap sober, but after a few drinks he can get just as loud and obnoxious as him 💀

!!BONUS!!

Konig

loves horror movies but he definitely watches sci fi and animated movies too

if he wants a horror movie, he’s getting one, no exceptions—

and if you’re begging him to turn it off bc it’s too much…he’ll make you beg for other things afterwards 💀

he loves popcorn! he always offers you some too 🫶

if he falls asleep, he’s a rock. don’t even bother trying to wake him up 😭

Keegan

loves crime and thrillers, but thinks sci-fi is cool too

quieter than ghost really 😳 he smiles at jokes

munches popcorn, finger licking the butter is his guilty pleasure

if he falls asleep you’ll never notice because he’ll stay sitting in the same position 💀

i think he’s more of an audiobook person overall tbh

Laswell

if she’s present, then the team will be watching a romcom (cue peepaw groan)

gets popcorn but she’ll have dinner and a few drinks too

her and gaz are besties during this time 👀 they get along the best

she’ll tolerate Soaps nonsense but if he starts getting too rowdy she’ll kick him out 💀

honestly has the best movie recs with epic female leads 💕

Graves

this man lives and breathes military, western, and action movies *cough* top gun mav

popcorn is a must, always gets the biggest size

gets up multiple times for random shite 🙄

bro will whoop and cheer during high intensity moments 😭

claps at the end, and will want to binge the next right after

#call of duty #headcanon #john price #keegan p russ #konig cod #kyle gaz garrick #phillip graves #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kate laswell

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slashers-and-rats · 2 years ago

Note

Ahhhhh!!!! Prompts are open for you?? 🤯 May I request Brahmsy-baby with fem! nanny who’s always scolding him for being naughty? (Take it as you will or see!) please and thanks boo!! 😩🙏🏼❤️

brahms heelshire x reader | softcore!nsfw | clothed grinding, spanking, msub!brahms

a/n: my personal head canon is that brahms is a dumb brat boy, so y’know. that’s what this is. thank you for gifting me such a good prompt.

you and brahms had developed a routine of sorts. after living together so long, something like that is to be expected, but this was different. it might’ve been more accurate to say brahms had developed a pattern, or game he liked to play with you.

it was simple. at least once a day, brahms chose a rule to break. sometimes it was a smaller one, like stealing away treats to the walls without your permission. sometimes it was bigger, like clearly spying on you while you were in your own private moments. you always caught him, you had developed an eye for his tricks. you’d catch him, and then punish him how you saw fit. you hoped with the right amount of discipline, maybe he’d learn one day.

but brahms didn’t see what you were doing as “discipline”. how you hadn’t realized this fact yet was beyond him, as he felt like it was somewhat clear he enjoyed making you angry. he liked the way you scolded him. for smaller offences, you’d simply have him sit in a time out, and rant about how you didn’t understand why he was misbehaving. he’d be grinning underneath his mask, so amused by your cute furrowed brows and stern look. for the bigger things, you became a bit more… intense.

for example, one day, long after you had tucked the man into bed and presumed he had fallen asleep, you had stowed yourself away in the library. the collection of books this house had was massive, and spanned across so many genres, you wondered if you’d be able to make it through them all before you died. you were sure going to try. you had found some steamy romance novel tucked away on the higher shelves, as if hidden from prying eyes, and it had engulfed you.

thinking brahm’s was asleep, and too tuckered out from a day of chores to really move back to your bedroom, you had gotten comfortable on the couch and were idly teasing yourself. you couldn’t help it. it was so hard to get private time with an always curious man slinking around in the walls, and sometimes you needed to be alone.

your eyes hung off of every word as you rubbed yourself through your panties, your pyjama shirt tucked under your neck comfortably so you could play with your tits as well. the story was about some burly man, a lumberjack, whisking away a maiden from a nearby village. it was a classic smut, not much plot to be seen, but you didn’t care. realism wasn’t something you had been searching for in that moment.

brahms could see that. you didn’t spot him, but he was watching you. he had woken up a long time ago, having gone to your room to ask if he could have a glass of water, only to find you missing. he had began his usual scramble through the different passages of the house, searching around for where you could’ve wound up, and when he found you splayed on the couch of the library, it was like nothing he had ever seen before. he was captivated. the way you teased yourself lightly, the way your panties dampened underneath your own touch, the rise and fall of your chest, and the focus your stare had on that page - he wanted to be the one you were looking at like that. he wanted to make you pant and whimper, he wanted to be the one grinding himself against your clothed pussy, he wanted to be the one to please you.

and yet there he was, simply watching you through a hole in the wall like some pervert. his own hand had found his cock, trapped still in the fabric of his pyjama pants. he copied you, rubbing over it and biting his lip as to hold back noises. you had gotten so good at spotting him, he couldn’t take a chance and moan. no, he kept himself as silent as a mouse, grinding into the fabric of his boxers, and stifling every little whimper that threatened to spill.

this went on for a minute or two, this sick little mimicry. brahms wanted to burst through the wall. he wanted to pin you down, and see your eyes widen, and see that red face that you got when you saw him feral like this. you had taken care of him like this a few times before, but only as a treat for him being extra good. as of late, that was a rarer occurrence. he got off to you being so mad at him. his mind wandered, beginning to think about what would happen if you caught him then. you’d be so grumpy, probably chastising him about being out of bed before you even mentioned his erection twitching against his waist. maybe you’d edge him, maybe you’d spank him, maybe you’d pull his hair and have him beg for your forgiveness - it was all too much to think about. without even realizing, he had gotten lost in the way you looked, and had begun letting quiet moans fall from his mouth. somewhere, subconsciously, he wanted to get caught.

his wish was granted, when you heard those faint whimpers coming out of the walls. you sat up immediately, and it made brahms jump and fall back against the wall of his tunnel. you heard that sound for sure, and threw the book aside, pushing your shirt down. it made him whine low in his throat. he wanted to see more, why hide from him?

“brahms, where are you?” you spoke stern. oh, he was in trouble. he felt the corners of his mouth curling mischievously. he could make this worse for himself. he could choose to stay in the walls, pretending as if it hadn’t been him, and you’d chase him throughout the house like a little game of tag. but, when you stood, and he saw your aggravated expression, he thought maybe he had tortured you enough.

he felt around for a particular panel on the wall, and pressed down so he could slip himself out from his secret passage. you turned to where the noise was coming from, and saw him peek his head out, staring up at you with large eyes. “here,” he said, just above a whisper. he felt anxious underneath your eyes, but in a good way. his heart was beating fast, and his body was beginning to heat up.

“what have i told you about spying on me, brahms? especially when I’m having private time.” you walked over to him, grabbing him by the shoulder of his sweater and tugging him out into the room fully. he rose to his full height, and wrung out the fabric of his sleeves between his hands. “what were you doing, huh?”

your eyes trailed down his body, and quickly found his prominent bulge. it made your face red. that amused brahms so much. after everything you two had done, you still felt so embarrassed to see him aching for you. maybe it was new for you to have such a needy man pining for your affections, or maybe brahms was just more of a heart throb than he thought.

“what book were you reading?” he asked, stepping up closer to you. he loomed over you, but still felt small in your presence. your roles were clear, and he could be ninety feet tall and still seem small to you. he liked it.

“none of your business,” you tutted, leading him over to the couch. “this is the third time in the past two days i’ve caught you spying on me. once in the shower, once while getting changed for bed, and now this. you’ve been very bad, brahms.”

he nodded along with you. oh, he liked where this was going. he was lucky he had his mask on, or maybe you’d see how excited he was getting. what would he be getting today? what lecture would you give? they only fuelled his desire, and yet you still played this game with him.

you sat down, leaning back on the couch before patting your thigh. a spanking. brahms was admittedly surprised. he hadn’t gotten this punishment in a long time, since last time he had managed to wriggle out of your lap and escape back to the walls. that had been one of the first times he realized he enjoyed making you grumpy with him, especially if it was going to get him things like that.

“across my lap, i don’t have all night,” you instructed. it pulled him back down to his body from his thoughts, and he nodded, quickly marching over to where you sat. he wiggled his pants and underwear down his hips, just enough that his butt was revealed, and positioned himself over your lap. it felt right, to be there. his cock was pressing somewhat painfully against the confines of his clothes, and his chest and hands were pressed into the couch beside your legs. he tried to keep his head up, trying to crane back to look at you. this made you tangle a hand in his hair, yanking it so that his masked face was pressed against the couch along with the rest of his upper body.

his lower half squirmed with anticipation. he knew you could feel him throbbing against your thigh. he wondered how it made you feel, if you were experiencing the same butterflies he was. he hoped so.

once again, he was yanked from his thoughts when suddenly a sharp hand swatted against his ass. it made him yelp out, his back arching slightly for a moment before collapsing hard against your lap. “we’re doing ten,” you explained. “that was one. count for me.”

it was torture, such a sweet torture. every slap against his ass was followed by a soothing rub over his cheek. he would push out the numbers, his voice shaky and high, barely able to pretend that this was something he didn’t love. he was never a good actor. he knew he was being obvious. by the fifth spank, he was writhing in your lap, trying to grind against your leg and moaning. he looked like a desperate whore; he looked like some dog in heat, rutting against your thigh like this. he hoped, deep down, that this was just as much torture for you as it was for him. he pleaded with whatever god was out there that you were feeling the same need he was.

you did. who are we kidding? the way he looked, so eager to be touched by you, so reactive to everything you gave him - he was a dream. his face was pressed down into the couch, back arching, cock grinding against your naked leg, and ass pushing into the hand you used to soothe the red there. every time your hand raised, he gasped in excitement, and every spank made him let out a long groan. he followed along so carefully, making sure to mewl out every number. now he was being good, now he was behaving, of course he was.

ten spanks came and went. by the time you were finished with him, his butt was red and he was a mess. he was hiding his face in his arms, embarrassed by how needy he looked. you were so good at keeping composure. sometimes he wished you weren’t so good, and that you’d feel the same way he did. he felt like all his nerves were on fire.

you pulled his head up from the couch once again, causing him to whimper loud. “are you gonna be good now?” you asked, patting the back of his thigh gently. he nodded enthusiastically.

“yes, yes, i promise… I’m a good boy,” he rasped out, high and whiny.

“you say that, but you’ve broken that promise before,” you tutted, running your hand from his thigh, over his butt, and up to his back. you rubbed small circles there, soothing him and nearly forcing him to relax into your touch.

“i promise, i promise… I’m a good boy, i am. no more spying.”

he sounded so sure. maybe he was being honest this time. you smirked and rolled him off of your lap, letting him gather himself where he laid beside you on the couch. “good. next time just ask to play.” you stood up, brushing yourself off. “okay, bedtime, brahms.”

his eyes widened, and he turned over so he could look up at you. his cock was still hard, it was leaking precum into his boxers. there was a small damp spot on his crotch, you had to have seen it. and you were just going to leave him like this. he began to sputter, trying to come up with a plea or a beg.

“don’t start. if you’re good tomorrow, we can play. but for now, you’re going back to bed,” you stated. the words were strong. brahms couldn’t argue with you.

his shoulders slumped dramatically, and he gathered his wits before standing up. “can… can i at least sleep with you…? please…?” he seemed so weak when he asked that, so pathetic.

you nodded. you couldn’t torture the man anymore, you had to at least give him one grace. you could see his eyes light up behind his mask, and before you could even think, he was shuffling out of the library and to the bedroom. you’d never understand him.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #slasher x reader #slashers #ask

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serenadeonacanoe · 23 days ago

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Waiting for Something (Namjoon x OFC) Chapter 2

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Original Female Character Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Pining, Emotional Realism, Slice of Life, Media/Celebrity Dynamics, Bangtan are truly good friends to OFC, travel, Seoul, this has a bit of it all... Word Count: ~126k | Chapters so far: 45 Status: Incomplete Yes, this is a bit of a monster of a fic. It was my first one, five years ago. At the time I just wanted to get my mind off Covid, no editing, just writing every day. Now I finally found time to edit it all, my goal having been to finish before BTS returns. So you have been warned: This covers quite a few years and is full of tropes and cheesiness. I hope you enjoy. =)

More already on AO3

Summary: It starts as a joke. A red carpet wink, a viral clip, a late-night show stunt. Ollie, a rising music journalist, never meant to become the girl who accidentally flirts with Kim Namjoon on live TV... and definitely not the one who ends up texting him afterward.

But what begins with playful banter and harmless curiosity slowly becomes something else. Through late-night messages, missed opportunities, chaotic schedules and quiet moments of honesty, Ollie and Namjoon find themselves circling something that might be real. If only the timing weren’t always slightly off.

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Chapter 2

I had realized long ago that there weren't enough hours in the day to focus on music I didn't like. Sure, good music journalists were critical as well, but from the time I started writing for a music magazine in college, I had focused on what I liked. Even if it sometimes hurt. My articles also went beyond music and covered all of pop culture. God, I hadn’t written about anything but Hamilton for two weeks in 2015 before someone gave me a talking-to, telling me I could maybe slip in some of my usual indie rock and pop coverage again.

Some people hated me for it. Called me more of a professional fangirl than a proper music journalist. But others seemed to like me for my enthusiasm and I knew that when it came to getting my own show, enthusiasm had been more important than a stellar music taste. That had changed a little. There were artists I didn’t care for but still had to cover because they were blowing up. What came as a surprise was how much fun it could still be. Forcing myself to really listen during prep sometimes made me like their work. And sometimes the people were just fascinating.

It had definitely started like that with BTS. I appreciated the international influence on the American music scene. But growing up on Arctic Monkeys and The Strokes, dance routines weren’t something I had ever gotten used to. I was too young for the Backstreet Boys. Then there were these seven guys everyone was talking about. My knowledge of K-pop was limited. A few names I remembered, but that had been years ago.

Still, I wanted to understand. One night, Lauren and I watched every BTS music video we could find. A bottle of wine and half a pizza later, we were sitting on the couch at 3 AM. There was just so. much. content. What started as research ended in utter happiness. The words "just so precious" were said so many times they lost all meaning.

"How... what happened?" Lauren asked as we stepped outside for air.

"I don't know. But it can't happen every night. Promise me we won’t fall deeper into this hole because... man. It’s bottomless."

Lauren laughed, nodded, then shook her head. "But... Jimins voice is like that of an angel. And I love Jins dumb jokes so much... and..."

I covered my ears laughing and pretended to run. "Stop!"

I had sprinkled hints in my show but never done a full piece on BTS. They’d been recording an album while the show took off. But now it was award season, the album was out and they were starting a world tour.

They were everywhere. And for the next few days, they kind of followed me around in a way. Friends and coworkers kept mentioning my little incident. When my ratings went up the next two weeks, the network suspected it was Army-related. It was almost mind-blowing how one comment could move more than all my interviews that day. That bothered me a little. But then I reminded myself I had gotten here on my own and there were perks. Also, this would blow over. Everyone on late-night shows claimed to be a fan these days. Soon no one would remember that time my face had been a meme for like two seconds.

But I should’ve known better.

Two weeks after the awards I was invited to a late-night to talk about my show. Everyone on my team was freaking out. Especially me. This was IT. It made no sense, but the show’s management made clear it was just a few minutes on a slow day. Someone had canceled and I happened to be in town. Not the words you want to hear, but it didn’t matter. We had 24 hours to find clothes and prep some talking points. Looking back, I was just dumb. It was obvious why they wanted me there. I was flattered. Even if my team had suspicions, nobody said anything.

I think I did well that night, but I was nervous. I tried to make a joke out of it. Near the end, the host said they had a little surprise. I looked at him puzzled.

"We heard you’re a fan of a certain band..." Screams from the audience. My heart sank. If someone had asked for my favorite band, honestly, I wouldn’t have said BTS first. But of course, that’s who he meant. I played along, acted shy, smiled a lot.

Then came more screams.

They had tried to sneak up on me, but you can’t sneak up on Army in the audience. I turned and there they were. Grinning. I let out a surprised squeak before bursting into laughter and hiding my face. The host started talking to the band while I was still recovering.

"It’s a good surprise, I gather..." he said as they came forward to shake my hand. Namjoon was last again and his smile was amused, apologetic and maybe a little proud.

"Great surprise." I was a bit out of breath as I made room for Jin and Namjoon on the couch while the rest sat behind us.

No words were needed. It was suddenly obvious why I was here. It might have hurt if everyone hadn’t looked like they were rooting for me. The host asked them questions about the album and tour. Then he turned to me, grinning.

"So you think you’ll see them live?"

I nodded. "If I can get tickets."

"We give you tickets." Jin said, giving me a thumbs up.

"Well, I guess that’s sorted then..." the host said. "But before you go... got a favorite member?"

The way he said it and the audience’s laughter made it clear this wasn’t a serious bias question. They were making fun of me.

I sighed, scratched my forehead and asked myself how I’d ended up here.

"I do."

"So who is it?"

Namjoon, sitting beside me, tried not to laugh. "Yeah, who is it?"

I smiled at him for a second before turning around. Yoongi was behind me.

"Suga!"

More laughter. Namjoon acted like I had broken his heart. Yoongi grinned. Someone shouted "It’s a lie!" but I couldn’t tell who.

A moment later I was being ushered offstage. My assistant Harriette gave me a huge hug.

"Why would you do that to me?" I laughed. "Great promo. Business is a bitch. And I thought you might actually enjoy it. I think you did." She was right.

Backstage I drank a whole bottle of water while watching the rest of the interview. I could have left, but didn’t. It was my first big TV appearance. Even if it hadn’t happened for the reasons I’d dreamed of, it made sense in a way. I was happy.

The host came over to thank me. I thought BTS had been rushed out a side exit, but they came in one by one. Polite, smiley, a little removed. "Guess we’re even now..." Namjoon said as he passed me. "Didn’t think you were one for revenge, but alright..."

Their manager appeared, trying to move them on. But they lingered. Talked to guests and staff. Had a drink. They looked as relieved as I felt. These shows must be nerve-wracking no matter how many you’ve done. I asked some of them to video call Lauren. She looked like she was having a heart attack when she picked up. Eventually they were told they really had to go. We said goodbye.

I was about to flop on the couch when Namjoon turned back and jogged over. Jungkook noticed and smiled but stayed where he was. He stood in front of me. So tall. I didn’t realize my mouth had opened slightly. But I didn’t have to say anything. He smiled, awkward again. "So... I figured the reason you never called after we saw each other last time was because... you couldn’t. Because you don’t have my number. So I thought... I should probably just give it to you."

It was clearly a joke. But he looked nervous. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Uhm... okay... yeah, sure..." I couldn’t speak properly. I handed him my phone. He typed in his number and handed it back. Then hurried after the others.

I looked down at my screen.

Namjoon, sorry about tonight.

On the ride home I was exhausted. Lauren was already freaking out when I walked in.

"Do you think it’s actually his number?" "Why the hell would he give you a fake one? That makes no sense." "No... it doesn’t." "Just text him and you’ll know."

I looked at her, unsure. A bit annoyed that after a big night for my career, I was having a conversation that wouldn’t pass the Bechdel Test. But it was what it was.

It took me an hour to decide what to say.

Me: [12:24 AM] Soo... is this actually Namjoon then? Namjoon: [12:39 AM] It is. Me: [12:41 AM] I think I need proof.

A few minutes passed. Lauren and I started panicking. But then an image appeared. Namjoon, holding a mug with the tv show’s logo. It was dark. He looked like he was on a bus.

Me: [12:51 AM] Okay, I’m convinced. Namjoon: [12:52 AM] And how do I know this is Olivia?

"Fucking hell, look at those dimples..." Lauren was still staring at the picture. I pulled out the same mug from my purse and held it up to my face. Lauren snapped the photo.

Namjoon: [1:02 AM] Alright, yeah. I think that is the girl RM apparently not so low-key flirted with a few weeks back.

Lauren and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then my phone rang. For a second, I thought it was Namjoon. Nope. It was Jackson. The ex who’d hooked up with a friend. I don’t know why I picked up. He talked fast, said he’d just seen the show, that he always knew I’d make it. I couldn’t get a word in. Lauren came back and I mouthed "Jackson."

She put down the wine bottle, took my phone and yelled, "Oh no no no, fuck off!" then hung up. I collapsed on the couch, laughing, nearly crying. What. a. day.

"We are getting wasted tonight, we have all reason to celebrate."

#bts #bts fanfic #fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #rm #bts smut #namjoon #namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader

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squeakynose · 1 month ago

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SIMS 2 OC LORE DUMP

@hauntedsavefile !! Ty for being so sweet and interested 😭😭 and for giving me the motivation to draw this!!

Putting the actual “lore” stuff under the cut so I don’t clog up peoples dashboards!

OKAY SO

First of all, this isn’t even the entire family!! This is just up to Generation 3. I haven’t even included Gen 3s partners and children, and their grandchildren! I’ll eventually get around to that, but for now here’s the 3 OG gens.

THIS IS THE CORN FAMILY!!!!!!! I don’t know why I named them after Corn. I think I just thought it sounded funny, kinda like saying “Bob Pancakes.” Thus, you get “George Corn”, you see?

I’m very much a family based sims player, I loooove long legacy families and multiple generations and family gameplay in general so A LOT of the lore is like….interpersonal family drama LOL. I like to have my stories rooted in realism (though I’ll mix in the general sims wackiness like aliens and vampires and shit)

I would have included everyone’s personality points too if I had saved that info somewhere but unfortunately I am a fool who didn’t make a spreadsheet when I started this save file, but i could probably tell you the general rundown for anybody if asked!

I think I’d end up writing forever if I tried to retell the entire story here, so I’ll just give a pretty general recap. If anyone cares enough, feel free to ask questions about them!!! Idk idk idk

Content Warnings for minor discussion of abuse, cheating, alcoholism, pregnancy complications, postpartum depression. Also mentions of sex. I think that’s it?

George Corn and Mary Sweet met as teenagers in their small town of Appaloosa Plains.

George was the oldest of three, and his family was very poor. His father was an alcoholic and a serial cheater, often out of the house or asleep on the couch. His mother was emotionally absent, unable to be present for her children. So George was responsible for the household from a young age.

Mary was raised by a loving mother and father, and comfortably middle class. Her mother was a famous horror novelist, and her father an architect. When she was 14, Mary’s father died in an accident on a worksite. Mary and her mother were forced to relocate to a smaller home, and Mary’s mother struggled to write after the death of her husband. She also became very overprotective and strict, watching Mary like a hawk.

Mary and George met while George was working his part time job at the diner, and immediately hit it off. Mary wasn’t allowed to date, but the two continued to secretly meet and began a budding romance behind the back of Mary’s mother.

(I could make an ENTIRE backstory lore post for just George and Mary but for times sake, we are skipping a bit here)

Mary ends up pregnant with their first child at the age of 17, just before she was meant to start college at Sim State University. Mary receives a large sum of entitlement money on her 18th birthday from her father, which her and George use to put down on a house in Belladonna Cove.

Skipping out on college was a hard choice, but George and Mary were happy. They give birth to their first daughter, Alma (named after Mary’s mother). George got a job in the culinary career track, and Mary went to night school to obtain her bachelor’s degree and start in the Law career track

They grew their family as well as their home. When Alma was 4, they had their twins, Ryder and Wren. 5 years later, they had their last child, Eleanor.

They were a very loving and functional family. George especially worked hard to be sure he was a great father to his children, knowing how much he needed one growing up. Mary is the stricter parent, but she learns to be more understanding with time to avoid coddling her children the same way she was.

Their eldest daughter, Alma, was a bit of a rebel. She snuck out, stayed out late, hung out with the wrong crowds. Anything that would generally piss off her parents, she was happy to do. Alma mostly only did it out of boredom, wishing her life was more interesting and less wholesome.

Ryder and Wren were very different despite being twins. Ryder was very social and popular, the MVP of their high school basketball team. Wren was a child genius, and extremely shy. She always had her nose in a book, much more interested in her studies than other people.

Eleanor was the silliest of the children. They matched their father’s goofball spirit, and loved to make people laugh. They were the baby of the family, while simultaneously being the most aware. They were fairly popular in school, but didn’t have very many real friends.

Alma was the first in the family to go to university. She majored in Fine Arts with the goal of becoming a rockstar. It was in college that she met her first husband, Christian. Alma was smitten with Christian. He was everything she thought her parents would hate. Mean, loud, entirely unwholesome. And he too wanted to be a rockstar. So the two formed a band, and eventually had a shotgun wedding right after graduation.

Mary and George didn’t….love Christian. But they tried to be supportive of Alma.

Alma and Christian would go on to have two children almost back to back. They had Bowie first, and then their daughter Amy-Lee. Alma worked all the while, writing music and touring and making a name for herself. Christian fell behind in work, calling out often and lounging around the house instead. He doesn’t do much to take care of the kids. And he does all of this while simultaneously cheating on Alma with their neighbor, Sirena.

Alma quickly learned about the affair and beat Christians ass. Good for her. We support women’s wrongs.

Alma packed her stuff up, took the kids, and hightailed out of there. Shortly after, she wrote and released her first full album, which became a hit. The entire album was dedicated to her ex-husband, and she made sure the world knew how much of an ass he was.

Alma would go on to meet Sanjay Ramaswami through work, and the two of them fell for each other. They got hitched, and had their own son, Stevie.

Shortly before Ryder and Wren went to college, Ryder met a girl named Opal at school and brought her home. Opal was known around school for being the cool emo girl that everyone wanted to be friends with. Ryder was trying to woo Opal, thinking that his usual charm would work on her. Little did he know, Opal actually had the hots for his twin.

Opal snuck off to hang out with Wren instead, and the two shared their first kiss together. Wren was shocked that someone like Opal would be into a nerd like her, but the two were attached at the hip almost immediately.

Ryder wasn’t too hurt. Turns out Opal wasn’t really his type. He eventually met Dagmar, a transfer student from Windenburg, and caught her attention instead.

The four of them went off to college together, splitting the rent in an off-campus house. Eleanor and Opal were both majoring in biology as knowledge sims. Ryder majored in Theatre in order to go into the Athletic career. And Dagmar floated around before landing on philosophy.

Almost immediately, Dagmar and Ryder were having relationship issues. They were very on-again-off-again. At some point Ryder “caught Dagmar cheating” with the Cow mascot, though in my opinion that wasn’t even Dagmar’s fault!

Eventually though, they proved their loyalty to each other. Both couples got married right after Graduation.

Eleanor and Opal were very career focused, and initially I didn’t plan for them to adopt children at all. But eventually they both rolled the want to adopt, and how could I deny that!? They adopted their one daughter, Robin. Almost immediately, Robin was a childhood genius and savant. She was incredibly good at music, specifically piano. She danced ballet. Her mothers encouraged her passions. They were a very artsy and “cultured” family. Eleanor reached the top of the Adventure career, which I interpreted as being an archeologist. Opal reached the top of the medical career and became a renowned surgeon.

Robin often felt a strong pressure from her mothers to be the best at everything she did. She was naturally an overachiever, and yet she didn’t feel fully satisfied by the pursuit of knowledge or talent the same way her mothers were. They loved her, and she loved them, but she knew she wasn’t going to be the perfect daughter for them forever. They supported her with everything, though. They only wanted the best for their little girl.

Their family was very very wholesome and sweet. I loved the vibes of their house and just how fancy it all was. I definitely pictured them being a little snobbish in an artsy kind of way. The kind of people that would gatekeep their favorite bands, yknow? A bit pretentious. But I loved them <3

Ryder and Dagmar were NOT supposed to have kids. But I installed ACR and almost immediately….they got pregnant. SMH smh smh.

The twin genes carried on and they had their twins, Ace and Archer. At first, everything was great! They were a happy family. But as I said, children were never in the plan for Ryder and Dagmar, and I think it showed in their parenting. Ryder was very involved in his career as an Athlete. He eventually reached the top of his career, but he was often working and not home a lot. Dagmar was in the slacker career, and she focused more on making friends and hanging out with people. They were decent parents at first, providing a comfortable life for their children and even supporting Ace through his transition (ftm)

But then Dagmar got pregnant again on accident. And it wasn’t pretty. It was a very hard pregnancy for Dagmar. And my game eventually glitched during the pregnancy and she WOULDNT GO INTO LABOR.

I interpreted this as complications with the pregnancy, and eventually I did get her to have the baby. Their youngest, Hunter, was born. But Dagmar did not have a very strong relationship with him. She became very distant, not wanting to socialize as much as she used to. I chose to interpret this as Dagmar struggling with PPD after having Hunter, and realizing that she wasn’t very satisfied with her direction in life.

Eventually though, their relationships recovered and Dagmar went on to have decent relationships with her sons. When Ace came out to her and Ryder as trans (ftm), she supported him wholeheartedly. She taught Archer how to cook all kinds of things. And she supported Hunter and his girlfriend after they accidentally got pregnant themselves. But there was still an edge of tension in the family. Especially after Ryder passed away. He died rather soon, despite being in platinum. Again, I interpreted this as Ryder having health complications and dying around the age of 45 or so. Old enough to see his sons grow up, but he didn’t get to meet his eventual grandchildren.

Eleanor went on to be the artist of the family. Initially I thought they might have been an entertainer of some sort, but they were a pleasure sim who preferred to paint all day and just lounge around, which was fine by me!

Eleanor befriended Veronica in high school, and the two started dating just before moving off to college. They brought along two other friends, Sarah and Zack, so they could split the rent.

Sarah and Zack are what I like to call “spare” sims. Sims who play a part in the story but never really made their way into the rotation.

Sarah and Zack were initially just there to be extra income for the household, but they caught my attention when I realized how much they hated each other. I was convinced that they’d end up fighting by the end of the semester……….and then one day I watched as they both fell in love with each other. Yknow…the little animation with the hearts over their heads? I was so confused. But I took it to be an enemies-to-lovers-hate-sex sort of thing and just rolled with it.

The couples lived harmoniously. Veronica was a fortune sim who wanted to become a criminal mastermind, and again, we support women’s wrongs. Eleanor majored in theatre because they would absolutely be a theatre kid. And I cannot remember what Sarah and Zack did but I’m sure it was fitting.

And then one day I realized that Sarah, a romance sim, had crushes on both Veronica AND Eleanor.

Now with ACR installed, I could have most definitely made this a working polyamorous relationship. And unfortunately I did not know this at the time LOL. But either way, I decided that this plot line was too good to pass up. And thus, the four entered a kind of complicated and messy swingers situation. Zack was with Sarah who was with Veronica who was with Eleanor…etc etc etc.

They passed their time in college having crazy fouresomes, eating pizza, and bullying the cow mascot. And then when they graduated, the OG couples went their separate ways. Veronica and Eleanor got married and inherited the original Corn family home. Sarah and Zack got married and rented a house down the road.

Eleanor and Veronica just did not seem like the parenting types to me. Neither of them ever rolled any wants for children, so I let them be pet parents to their elderly collie named Pop and eventually a cat named Caramel.

They eventually went on to be the gay rich aunties of the family and I really love that for them.

AND THATS WHERE IM LEAVINF IF OFF BECAUSE I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN WRITING FOR TWO HOURS NO JOKE. if you genuinely read to the end of this, you are now my best friend. Again, family drama lore may be the most boring shit ever to some people but idgaf I need to get all of this out of my brain and put it somewhere!!!

There’s so much more I could say about this family, and lots of little details I left out. And like I said THERES MORE FAMILY!! THIS ISNT EVEN ALL OF THEM!! But yeah. <<<<3333333

#ts2 #scribbles #squabbles #the corn family #ocs

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