#SO ABOUT THOSE JOURNAL LEAKS HUH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvstaymin · 21 days

Text

diving records ᡣ𐭩 bang chan

⊹ series: recreation pursuits

⊹ genre: fluff, soft angst, slight suggestive

⊹ pairings: female reader x bang chan

⊹ word count: 7.4k

⊹ synopsis: Love sparks between the university's swim team captain and a journalism student assigned with covering the swim team's events. Their bond strengthens as they grow closer, but an incident drives them apart.

The electronic buzzer pierces through the air as you push the heavy door open of the swim recreation building. Instantly, the sharp scent of chlorine and the echoes of splashing water bouncing off the walls envelopes you.

Swimmers darting back and forth in the lanes, their synchronized movements to the rhythmic beats. You, a journalism student, stand out-of-place, with a camera hanging over your neck, a notebook in your hand, and a heavy book bag on your back. Stepping cautiously, your eyes widen with overwhelming nervousness. Edging closer to the swimmers on the bench, the air is thick with the scent of chlorine and the echoes of water rippling against the pool's edge. With every stroke, the swimmers carve through the water, leaving behind trails of bubbles. You fumble with your camera, adjusting the lens to capture the fluid motions of the swimmers.

As you carefully navigate the crowded poolside, you bump into a particularly intimidating member of the swim team. He shoots you a glare that sends a shiver down your spine. You quickly apologize, attempting to retreat, but he blocks your path.

"What do you think you're doing?" he sneers, eyeing your camera with disdain. "Don’t tell me you are here trying to sneak in the locker rooms with that filthy camera of yours.”

Your heart races as you stammer out an explanation, trying to justify that you were here as part of a class assignment, but he scoffs at your excuses.

"I saw you taking pictures, huh?" he jeers, reaching out to grab your camera. "Let's see what you've got. Probably just trying to invade our privacy, aren't you?"

Panic surges through you as the tall slender man wrestles the camera from your grasp, which he successfully retrieved.

Frantically, you attempt to reason with him, pleading for him to return your camera, “Please give it back. That camera— is very expensive.”

But he continues to taunt you, waving it in front of your face and hovering it over the water. A crowd of the swim members begin to surround the both of you with whispers being exchanged.

Just as despair threatens to overwhelm you, someone intervenes, “KIM SEUNGMIN.”

Their authoritative voice cuts through the building and everyone whips their heads to the direction of the voice.

“What do you think you are doing Seungmin? Stop fooling around and go back practicing. You know your ranks have been dropping recently,” the male scolds him.

“Chan- listen- she is one of those people! Do you want photos of us being leaked again? You know what happened last tim—”

“She is our journalist for the team. We received a notice recently from their journalism class. Give back her camera and you— fifty laps before you leave today.”

“No fucking way am I doing fif—”

The man named Chan stares him down.

Reluctantly, the boy named Seungmin, hands back your camera and mutters under his breath in search of finding an opening lane to start his laps. Everyone else around you both disperse in fear of having to swim additional laps. You retrieve back your camera, relief flooding through you as you clutch it close to your chest.

“I am so sorry about that, please forgive me. Y/N right? The journalist for our swim team?” Chan spoke.

“Oh yes, and you are Chan?”

“My name is Chris, but you can call me Chan,” he gives you a smile and puts his hand in front of you.

‘Does he want my camera?’

You hesitantly give him your camera, leading him to let out a chuckle. You watch him move your camera to his left hand, and he grabs your right hand, shaking it.

“It seems like you forgot what a handshake is,” he laughs.

You become flustered, and your eyes drop down to his form. Staring at his toned abs and defined muscles.

“Oh..” you stare at the water droplets dripping down his skin.

“Am I distracting you too much?” he grins and wraps his body with a towel.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just,” you trail off, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” he lets out a honey-like laugh, “Let me give you a proper tour around since I believe you will be joining us during our training and competitions. Don’t want to get you lost, y’know?”

With that, Chan leads you around the pool area, pointing out various training equipment and introducing you to some of the other swimmers. As you walk alongside him, you can’t help but feel grateful for his kindness unlike the one boy, Seungmin, who is still going at it with his fifty laps.

“Since we still have a couple of hours left of training, if you would like to take a seat on the benches and observe, you are more welcome to do so,” Chan smiles, “or feel free to judge myself as well. I am always open to hearing feedback for improvement. Let me know if you would be comfortable with that. I know our previous journalist wasn’t, so I want to make sure to give you that option.”

“We shall see about that,” you laugh, “thank you, Chan, for the tour. I will most likely stick around and get started with my assignment so don’t worry too much about me.”

Finding a place to settle in, you move upwards to the top of the bleachers to provide yourself some back support for the remaining hours they have left for training. Situating down, you take out your notebook, jotting down some notes about what you have learnt so far from the tour with Chan. If you were honest, you had no clue about the swimming sports and ended up in the sports department for swimming as you were sick on the day the class decided to choose their topic assignment.

As training wrapped up, the pool area emptied out until it was only you and Chan remaining. You were too busy looking at your laptop you pulled aside, researching all the fundamentals of the sport. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you jumped at the touch.

“So, what did you think of our training session?” Chan asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You smiled, “It was impressive! I honestly didn’t realize that swimming is something people would be serious about, but it definitely changed my mind.”

“It’s a lot of hard work, but moments like these make it all worth it,” Chan’s smile widened at your words with his gaze sweeping over the empty pool.

“Would you like to see what I have? I didn’t take any pictures yet since I was trying to grasp more about the sport. As you can tell, I am not quite a swimmer or even a sports fan. Don’t even question how I got here,” you let out a groan.

“I am sure you won’t regret it, Y/N,” he takes a seat next to you, not noticing the close distance between you and him.

As you continued to chat, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, touching on everything from the intricacies of swimming techniques that they use to getting to know each other such as your favorite colors and hobbies.

Before you knew it, the evening had slipped away and you glanced at the clock realizing how late it had gotten.

Offering Chan an apologetic smile, “I should probably head out before I keep rambling all night,” you laugh, gathering your belongings, “I do not want to keep you hostage here.”

Chan nodded understandingly, wishing that you did not have to depart. There was something about you that he loved. The way your eyes crease into crescents of a moon when you get excited talking about things you love and how your facial expression becomes serious and intrigued when you listen to him talking about his swim stories or randomness of his friends.

“I don’t mind at all. It was great spending time with you, Y/N. You will be here tomorrow right? Again, you are more to stay however long you would like while we are training,” he said genuinely.

You returned with a warm smile, “Sure, I don’t have anything much planned for the next couple of weeks, so I will be here.”

Both of you walked down the bleachers and with a final wave, you made your way towards the exit.

With a spring in your step, you made your way to the swimming facility, feeling excited to see what the day had in store. As you swung open the doors, you couldn't help but grin at the thought of reuniting with Chan and the rest of the team. Making your way towards your newfound seat, you place your belongings down and unpack your camera from your bag.

Heading back down from the top of the bleachers, you began capturing photos of the swimmers in actions and jotting down observations in your notebook.

Lost in your own world, you didn’t notice a presence behind you, and they tapped on your shoulder.

Jumping in surprise, you spun on your feet and there was Chan standing in front of you with a warm smile on his face.

“Glad to see you so soon,” Chan greeted.

You looked up and returned a smile, “you act like you haven’t seen me for months,” you laughed, “practice going well?”

Chan shrugs, “Same old, same old. We have been working on some new techniques since there’s a big competition coming up next month. So yeah, things are heating up. What have you been up to?”

“Well, first off, I am wishing you and your team the best luck! Second, I have been taking photos and jotting notes here and there. I didn’t think these assignments would be harder than expected, but I will be around if you need me to capture anything specific.”

“I am glad you are settling in well, Y/N. Again, if you need me, let me know anytime,” he replies warmly.

“Until-” he glances at the clock on the wall, “three more hours, we should be finished up. You are welcome to stay as long as you want and leave anytime. I know I say this multiple times, but I want for you to be comfortable,” he adds with a playful wink.

“We shall see,” you smile, “Now shoo shoo, I feel like I’m distracting you from your practice routine.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he laughs, turning around and shaking his head before rejoining his teammates.

As the day progressed, you found yourself stealing glances at Chan whenever you thought he wasn’t looking. There was something about the way he moved through the water with effortless grace, the way he treats his teammates with care, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiles. That left you feeling oddly captivated by a man you met in less than a couple of days.

Before you knew it, the hours passed, and the pool was once empty again with you and Chan.

“Hey Chan, would it be alright if I snap some of your solo shots? I feel like the lighting is just perfect now with the lesser number of people,” you observed through your camera.

Chan turns to you with a warm expression, “Of course, Y/N. I don’t mind at all. Which lane would you prefer me to be in?”

“I think lane number 8 would be perfect from where the lighting is at” you positioned yourself preparing to capture.

Chan nods his head and gracefully dives into water. Focusing on capturing every detail, every ripple of water, and every flex of his muscles; you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his powerful and fluid movements.

The sunlight peeking through the windows dances upon the surface of the pool, casting a golden glow that illuminates Chan’s form.

As you snapped photo after photo, you found yourself completely engrossed in the beauty of the man unfolding before you. You realized that this wasn’t just about completing an assignment anymore. Instead, it was about capturing a moment of raw beauty of his passion.

As Chan reaches the end of the lane and emerges from the water, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. He looks towards you with a smile playing at the corners of his lips. Swimming back to where you were, he pulls himself up and briefly dries himself with his towel.

“Did you get some good shots?” Chan asked with his voice tinged with curiosity.

You nodded with a grin spreading across your face, “Want to take a look?”

“Sure,” his voice softens as he steps closer behind you, leaning his upper chest over your shoulder.

You fumble with your camera, trying to distract yourself from the sudden proximity. As you were showing him the photos, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“These are amazing,” he murmurs with his gaze lingering on the image a moment longer than necessary.

You swallow hard, desperately trying to regain your composure.

“Th-thanks,” you stammered, hoping he didn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you mention that the photos would turn out much better if you were able to get closer to the water.

Chan's eyebrows raised in surprise, "Why don't you just get closer then?" he asked genuinely with curiosity lacing his tone.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you confessed, "Well, ironically enough. I don't know how to swim. I have that fear of being a bit afraid of deep water. I know- as much as it sounds crazy as I was assigned to this area.”

Chan's expression softened, and his eyes reflected understanding, "Well, it's never too late to learn," he reassures, "I could teach you, if you'd like. It's not as scary as it seems if you start from the basics.”

“Oh- as much as I would like that, I don't really think it’s a good idea for you to take your practicing time out to teach me,” you rub the back of your neck.

“Y/N, I am more than happy to teach you how to swim. Take it to advantage that the best swim captain will be teaching you,” he reassures you.

“If that is okay with you of course? Then I would like that,” you finally agreed with a small smile tugging up your lips.

Chan’s warm smile widens as he gently ruffles your hair, “We can start tomorrow since we don't have a long practice if you are up for it.”

“Yeah, tomorrow sounds perfect,” you reply, trying to conceal the nervous flutter in your stomach.

As the evening sun cast golden hues across the waters, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness of learning how to swim, especially with Chan, as thinking of being in close proximity with him makes you go insane.

As you made your way back to the swimming facility, anticipation bubbled within you. Today was different - today, Chan had offered to teach you how to swim.

With a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your stomach, you entered the pool area with your duffle bag and spotted Chan waiting for you with a patient smile on his face.

"Hey, Y/N! Ready to get started?" he called out, waving to you over, “Oh wait, you need to get changed. Unless you want to practice in your jeans and t-shirt~” he teases.

You reply back with a sheepish smile, “Sorry for keeping you waiting. My class went over time, and god- the professor would not let us go.” You huffed out, “Changing room is that way, right?” You pointed at the direction you last recalled.

“Mhm, I’ll walk you over there,” he smiled and led the way.

As you entered the changing room, with Chan waiting outside, you quickly slipped out of your clothes and slipped into your one-piece swimsuit. Feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach intensifying, you emerged from the changing room. Chan’s eyes fell on you, and for a moment, you caught a flicker of something in his expression. His gaze lingered on your figure, and you couldn’t help but notice a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Alright, all set?” Chan asked, his voice sounding a bit more flustered than before.

You nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and self-consciousness at Chan’s lingering gaze as you walked beside him. You tried to push aside any doubts and focus on the lesson at hand.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, trying to sound confident despite the butterflies in your stomach.

As you stood at the edge of the pool, Chan wasted no time in getting started. With a confident smile, he quickly shed off his top, revealing his toned physique, before effortlessly diving into the water.

You couldn't help but admire the way he moved, his movements fluid and powerful as he treaded water effortlessly. The sunlight danced upon the surface of the pool, casting a shimmering reflection on the water as Chan beckoned you to join him. Turning back towards you, Chan extended a hand, his expression warm and encouraging.

With a deep breath, you took a seat on the ledge and held on Chan's outstretched hand, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through you as you prepared to take the plunge. With his guidance, you pushed yourself gingerly into the water, feeling its cool embrace envelop you as you waded in. Chan was by your side in an instant, his hand steady on your waist and reassuring you as he guided you away from the ledge and to the middle of the pool.

"Relax, Y/N. You're doing great," Chan said, his voice gentle yet encouraging.

You took a hesitant look underneath you, the water stretching out beneath you, its depths unknown and daunting. A wave of panic threatened to overwhelm you, but Chan's reassuring presence grounded you, reminding you that you were not alone in this.

"Please don’t let go of me," you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur, your eyes tightly shut.

"Hey, look at me. I've got you, Y/N. I won't let anything happen to you," Chan replied, his tone filled with reassurance.

With his words echoing in your ears, you opened your eyes and felt the water lapping at your legs. Each movement was slow and deliberate, but with Chan's steady guidance, you soon found yourself floating in the middle of the pool, the water supporting you like a gentle embrace.

"Are you feeling comfortable, Y/N?" Chan asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he glanced over at you, his hand still steadying your waist.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I think so. It's just... different, you know?"

Chan nods reassuringly, "I understand. Learning to swim can be a bit intimidating at first, but trust me, you're doing great. Just take it one step at a time, and soon enough, you'll feel right at home in the water."

With his encouragement spurring you on, you took a deep breath and tried to relax, allowing yourself to float in the water. Chan was patient and attentive, offering gentle guidance as he began to teach you the basics of swimming.

"Alright, let's start with something simple," Chan said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I want you to focus on your breathing. Take a deep breath in through your nose, and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Try to keep your breathing steady and relaxed."

Following Chan's instructions, you took a deep breath, the cool sensation of the water against your skin grounding you as you focused on your breathing. With each inhale and exhale, you felt yourself beginning to relax, the tension melting away as you settled into a rhythm.

"Good, now let's work on floating," Chan continued, his voice gentle yet firm. "I want you to lean back slightly and let your body relax. You can lean onto my chest first if you don’t feel comfortable to go all in yet. Trust the water to support you as you float on your back."

With Chan's guidance, you leaned back onto his chest first feeling his gentle buoyancy lifting you up. You tried not to think too much of it, but with Chan's reassuring presence by your side, you soon found yourself floating into the weightlessness on the surface of the water.

"See? You're doing great," Chan said, his voice filled with pride as he watched you float effortlessly on your back. "Just keep practicing, and soon enough, you'll be swimming like a pro."

"Alright, Y/N, I'm going to let go of you now," Chan said as he prepared to release his hold on your waist. "Just remember to keep breathing and stay relaxed. You've got this."

With a nod, you braced yourself from Chan's departure, trying to summon all the courage you could muster. As his hand gradually slipped away, you felt a surge of panic rising within you, the sensation of being adrift in the water suddenly overwhelming. For a moment, you tried to steady yourself, focusing on Chan's instructions and the rhythm of your breathing. But as the seconds ticked by, the panic threatened to consume you, and before you knew it, you were thrashing in the water, your movements frantic and desperate.

"Chan, help!" you cried out, your voice echoing across the pool as you struggled to keep your head above water.

In an instant, Chan was by your side, his strong arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. "I've got you, Y/N. Just relax and breathe. You're safe with me."

With Chan's reassuring presence grounding you, you took a deep breath, the cool water lapping at your skin as you tried to steady yourself. Slowly but surely, the panic began to recede, replaced by a sense of calm and security in Chan's embrace.

"Take it easy, Y/N. There's no rush," Chan said, his voice soothing as he held you close. "We'll take things at your pace. Let’s try one more time, yeah?"

You nodded and took a deep breath in bracing yourself for another attempt at floating on your own. As Chan gently releases his hold on you, you feel a surge of anxiety welling up inside you. But this time, instead of letting it overwhelm you, you focused on Chan's reassuring words. With each passing moment, you felt yourself growing more comfortable, more at ease in the water. You floated effortlessly on the surface of the water. You glanced over at Chan, a wide smile spreading across his face, you knew that you had done it - you had conquered your fear and found peace in the water.

"See, Y/N? I knew you could do it," Chan said, his voice filled with pride as he watched you float serenely in the water, "You're a natural."

“Now how do I un-float?” You tried to lift up your head trying to keep your composure.

“First, don't panic. The pool is deep, so it may be a little harder since there are no shallow areas for you to do it on your own unless you know how to tread in the water, which you don’t, but the easiest way from your position is just moving your body from Point A to Point B,” Chan treads over next to you, “Second, move your hands in a backward circular motion and kick your feet up and down with pointed toes. Don’t kick too hard or it makes you feel rushed and you may lose your floating posture.”

“O-oh okay,” you followed his directions and slowly moved your hands in backward circular motion and kicked your feet, “Am I making progress?” you whispered.

“Slowly but surely. Again, don’t rush yourself. Take your time,” Chan says, swimming next to your side.

A couple of strokes later, you found your way to the end of the pool.

“Watch your head,” Chan places his hand between the concrete and your head, “Now, you can turn your body around and hold onto the ledge.”

Following his instructions, you flipped your body over and held onto the ledge with both of your hands pushing yourself up off the water.

“This is tiring. I don’t get how you do it,” you laugh and seated yourself, wiping the water off your face.

“You’ll get used to it the more you practice,” Chan lets out a cheeky grin and seats himself next to you.

You both sit in silence with yourself kicking the water until a loud rumbling noise releases from the man next to you.

“Sorry,” a blush crepts upon Chan’s cheeks.

“Want to grab dinner with me? A payment for teaching me today?”

“You don't have to. But if you insist~”

“Order anything you would like, it’s on me,” you both stand looking at the menu displayed at the top.

“Hmm, I don’t know what to get. Burger? Pizza? Steak also sounds good..”

“Never knew you were this indecisive~”

“I am not! Then what are you getting?”

“A pineapple burger,” you grinned widely.

“A WHAT?”

“Chan!” You hushed his voice.

“Sorry- but who eats a burger with pineapple? I don’t even get why people like pineapple on pizza either but with a burger? You must be kidding me,” he scoffs looking over the menu with many options.

“Well, have you tried it?”

No response came out of him but silence.

“I thought so! No judging unless you try Channie~”

“Cute…” he mumbles.

“Hm?” you blinked back at him confused.

“Oh, nothing. Fine, I'll get a regular burger.”

“Drink?”

“Pineapple juice.”

“You can drink pineapple juice, but not have a pineapple in a burger,” you shake your head in disapproval.

“They are two different things!”

“Yeah yeah, go find a seat, I’ll go order,” you shooed him away, stepping up in line to order.

Chan chuckles to himself shaking his head at the little debate the two of you were having. Finding an open booth seating, he slides himself onto one side and watches you from a distance ordering.

“Can I get two pineapple burger combos? One drink is pineapple juice and the other is apple juice. Thank you,” you swiped your card in and retrieved the number tag from the cashier.

Spinning around shoving the receipt in your bag, you spot Chan waving his hand over.

“Thanks for today again, Chan,” you seat yourself across from him.

“It's not a big deal. It’s like an exchange for your time being with the team.”

“Maybe one day, I’ll end up competing with professional Chan here,” you stick out your tongue.

“Impossible but possible,” he laughs, revealing his dimples.

“Your dimples are cute-” you said unconsciously, “I mean you should smile more often. I really lik- Oh wow the food is here, that’s fast!”

A blush crepts coupons Chan’s cheeks, and the server comes up with two trays setting one of each in front of you both.

“Thank you for the food, Y/N,” Chan smiles, lifting up his burger.

“You are welcome! Dig in, it looks so good!” You lift up your burger and bite into it, melting to taste the sweetness of the pineapple and the savory of the patty.

Chan does the same, lifting up his burger and taking a wide bite. His teeth sink into the burger, but he is immediately shocked by the distasteful burst of pineapple. He freezes, his eyes widening in horror.

"What the—" he mumbles through a mouthful, resisting to spit it out into a napkin and swallows it.

You burst into laughter, unable to contain your amusement at his reaction, "Gotcha!"

Chan glares at you, still trying to get the taste out of his mouth. "That was so not funny," he grumbles, reaching for his pineapple drink to wash away the lingering sweetness of the pineapple.

“Pretend the pineapple is like your juice. Drinking and eating the burger at the same time,” you laugh taking a second bite.

Chan rolls his eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Fine, you got me this time. But just wait, I'll get you back."

As you continue to eat, Chan can’t help but feel a bit wary, glancing suspiciously at his burger. He picks it apart, inspecting the pineapple, and takes another bite and chews at it slowly, “Oh, it’s actually not that bad.”

“See, I told you!” You grinned back at him triumphant.

Chan gradually relaxes, even starting to enjoy the unique combination of flavors. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, filled with jokes and shared stories. As the evening progresses, you notice Chan stealing glances at you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The evening air cools, with Chan taking the initiative in walking you home, you feel a shiver run down your spine. Chan notices offering his jacket, “Here.”

You accept it, slipping into the warmth of his jacket, his scent enveloping you.

“Thanks,” you say softly, looking up at him.

Chan's eyes meet yours, and there’s a gentle warmth in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“You know,” he begins, his voice a bit more tender, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I feel really comfortable spending time with you. I haven't felt like myself in a while, and it feels really really nice.”

Your breath catches slightly, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, “Me too, Chan. I feel the same way.”

He smiles, a hint of shyness in his expression, “I’m glad to hear that. I know we only knew each other for less than a couple of weeks, and we got to hangout and tell your stories and mine.”

You nod, feeling your cheeks warm, “Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it? I don’t really talk to anyone outside of my classes. It feels really nice to know that there is someone willing to be comfortable around me and on top of that similar interests too.”

You both walked together laughing and making fun of each other on the silliest of things. From scaring each other as if a bug fell on them or telling sarcastic jokes, the two of you fit right in such as pieces of puzzles connecting.

Arriving in front of your apartment complex, Chan shoves his hands in his pockets, tilts his head and smiles, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, “Tomorrow. Oh, your jacket-” you begin to take it off.

“You can keep it and return it whenever. It looks better on you,” he winks with a playful smile.

You blush, wrapping the jacket tighter around yourself, “Thanks, Chan. For everything tonight again. I had a great time.”

“Me too,” he replies, his eyes softening.

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s comfortable, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. You both linger, neither wanting the night to end just yet.

“Well, I should go inside,” you say reluctantly.

Chan nods, taking a small step closer. “Yeah, I should get going too. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Chan,” you reply softly, turning around to enter your complex.

As you close the door behind, you slip off his jacket, hugging it to yourself for a moment before hanging it up. The scent of him still clings to it, a comforting reminder of the night. You head to bed, your mind buzzing with thoughts of Chan and the growing connection between you.

Weeks had passed since that evening, and every day seemed to draw you and Chan closer. Your routine had shifted from staying back from his swim practice to spending nearly every night together out with him. The days blended into a warm, comforting blur of shared meals, late-night talks, and walks.

One practice day, you were sitting on the bleachers, flipping through your notes. The sound of splashing water and echoing laughter filled the air as the team wrapped up their training session. Chan emerge from the pool, water dripping from his hair as making his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile warm and genuine, “Got a minute?”

“Of course,” you replied, closing your notebook and giving him your full attention.

He sat down beside you, his breath still slightly labored from the workout. “I wanted to thank you for all the coverage you’ve been giving the team. Our coach and the members appreciate a lot of the articles you made. It really helped us gain some recognition on campus.”

You felt a rush of pride at his words, “You guys work so hard, and I just want to showcase that to the rest of the school that swimming is just as good as any other sport.”

As you continued to talk, Chan suddenly looked at his watch and sighed, “The major competitions are coming closer, and Coach wants us to do some extra training,” he pouts and gets up from the bleacher, “No swim lessons for you today. I most likely can’t give you them until after the competitions are all over. Hopefully your skills aren’t rusty~”

You nodded understandingly, “Your competition is more important Chan. You’ve got this! Don’t mind me at all. I’m sure I can beat you in a race,” you stick your tongue out teasingly.

With a final wave, he jogged off to join his teammates, diving back into the pool.

As the days passed and the swim team became increasingly busy with smaller competitions, Chan's schedule grew more hectic. Despite his absence from the facility, you found yourself lingering around, drawn to the pool.

After finishing up your notes and edits, you decided to take a break and wander around the building. As you made your way to the pool area, you found yourself drawn to the edge of the pool, staring down into the crystal-clear water below. An urge to take a dip washed over you, despite the fact that you weren't much of a swimmer. You remembered the lessons Chan had given you a while ago, and the thought of waiting until after the competitions seems far too long for you. What if you forgot his tips and tricks? What if you lost the progress you had made? You didn't want to waste any more of Chan’s time.

With a determined sigh, you made your way to the locker rooms, changing into your swimsuit. As you stepped out onto the pool deck, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness creeping in.

Pushing aside your doubts, you took a deep breath and lowered yourself into the water. At first, everything seemed fine, but as you pushed yourself away from the edge, you felt a sense of panic rising within you. Your strokes felt clumsy and uncoordinated, and you struggled to keep your head above water.

Frantically, you tried to remember Chan's advice, but it seemed to slip through your mind. With each passing moment, the panic grew stronger, threatening to overwhelm you.

As you struggled in the water, you suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out, “Y/N!”

Without hesitation, he dove into the water and swam over to you, his movements swift and powerful.

As he reached you, he grabbed hold of your waist and guided you back out of the pool, “What were you thinking?" he scolded, his voice tinged with anger, "You could have drowned!"

You struggled to catch your breath, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment wash over you, "I-I'm sorry, Chan. I just wanted to try swimming on my own and practice-”

Chan's expression softened slightly, but the memory of you almost drowning ignites his anger back, "You could have seriously hurt yourself. You need to respect the water and know your limits."

You hung your head low, feeling ashamed of your recklessness, “I know, I know. I won't do it again."

Chan sighed heavily, "You could have put yourself in danger. What if I wasn't there to save you? Who would?”

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, and with a lump in your throat, “I'm sorry, Chan. I didn't mean to worry you."

With a heavy sigh, Chan turned and walked away, with his frustration still evident, "Fucking hell," he muttered, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

You watched him go, feeling a sense of regret wash over you. You knew that you had made a mistake and that he wouldn't forgive you anytime soon.

After the incident, the tension between you and Chan hasn't gone away. The guilt weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you found yourself withdrawing from him, convinced that you were nothing but a burden.

You noticed a distinct change in Chan's behavior towards you. What had once been warm smiles and friendly greetings now turned into cold glances. As days turned into weeks, and the once-close bond you shared with Chan began to fray. You stopped staying for swim practice, using the excuse of being busy with other assignments to avoid facing him. And even when you did see him around the facility, the awkwardness between you was too visible.

You found yourself replaying the events of that day over and over in your mind. Had you disappointed him so much that he couldn't even bear to be around you anymore? The thought filled you with a sense of regret weighing you down like a heavy anchor.

As time passed, you found yourself attending the swim practices less and less, avoiding the pool and the lingering tension with Chan. Instead, you threw yourself into your assignments and made excuses with your professor of why your reports are not as the best as it was previously.

Meanwhile, Chan's performance began to suffer. His times slowed, his movements became less fluid, and it was evident that something was weighing heavily on his mind. His attitude towards his teammates began to sour. He grew increasingly irritable and short-tempered, snapping at anyone who dared to question his methods or offer advice. It was clear that the guilt from lashing out in anger at you was eating him.

One day, news spread like wildfire throughout the swim team. Chan had dropped out of the upcoming major competition, citing personal reasons.

As you sat in the library unaware of the news, you were buried with a pile of textbooks and notes resting your head onto the table. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you looked up to see Hyunjin, another member of the swim team, standing beside you with a concerned expression on his face.

"Hey, you okay?" Hyunjin asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I’m- Just buried under schoolwork."

Hyunjin frowned, sensing that you were covering it up, “I know about you and Chan. He talks a lot about you. I know things haven't been great between you two lately."

Your heart sank at the mention of Chan's name, the weight of your guilt crushing you. "I know," you murmured, unable to meet Hyunjin's gaze.

He reached out and gently squeezed your shoulder. "You know it’s not your fault. Chan has been struggling a lot lately," he continued, his voice filled with empathy, “he misses having you around."

You felt a surge of emotion at Hyunjin's words, a mixture of guilt and longing swirling inside you, “I miss him too. I just felt that I was a burden to him after that incident. An inconvenience,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin nodded understandingly, "Maybe it's time you talked to him," he suggested, his eyes urging you to take action, "I think he could really use your support right now.”

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “the last couple of times I saw him, it looks like he doesn't want me there anymore.”

“What do you know, Y/N? It’s completely the opposite. He cares for you. I have never seen him so happy ever since you joined us for practice and his performance was high too. His eyes were always heart-shaped when he was talking about you. I really mean it, Y/N.”

“He what?” Your eyes widened, “you’re telling lies. He doesn’t feel that way.”

“I’m being serious, Y/N.”

With a heavy heart, you nodded, feeling relieved welling up inside you, "Maybe you're right. Maybe you are wrong. But I can’t deal with this silence away from him. It’s hurting me too,"

As Hyunjin offered you a supportive smile, you knew that you couldn't continue to ignore the rift between you and Chan. It was time to confront the situation head-on and try to mend what had been broken. And with Hyunjin's encouragement, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to repair your relationship with Chan.

Pushing open the door, you stepped inside, spotting Chan sitting alone on the edge of the pool, with his shoulders slumped, and his gaze fixed on the rippling water below.

You made your way towards him, your heart pounding in your chest. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you approached him slowly,

“Chan," you whispered softly.

He looked up with a surprise flicker in his eyes as he registered your presence. "What are you doing here?" he stands up and brings his feet to you with a guarded voice.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I-I came to talk to you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know things haven't been great between us lately, and I wanted to apologize."

Chan stared at you in silence, his expression unreadable. You took a deep breath and launched into a rambling apology, the words tumbling out in a rush.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you and for not being there for you when you needed me," you said, your voice quivering with emotion. "I just...I didn't know how to face you after what happened at the pool, and I let my own insecurities get in the way. I didn't want to burden you any longer or become an inconvenience to you.”

You paused, tears streaming down your cheeks as you waited for Chan's response. To your surprise, he reached out and gently wiped away your tears, his touch warm and comforting.

"You don't have to apologize," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. "I've been struggling too, and I realized that I haven't been fair to you either."

You looked up at him, surprise flickering in your eyes. "What do you mean?"

Chan took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've been so caught up in my own guilt and frustration that I didn't see how much I was hurting you too," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss you, and I'm sorry for pushing you away."

"I miss you too," you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you reached out to take his hand in yours.

Chan squeezed your hand gently, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "We can't change the past," he said softly, "but we can work on building a better future together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of hope welling up inside you. "I would like that," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The tension between you slowly melted away, Chan wraps his arm around your waist pulling you closer. He leaned in with his gaze intense and full of longing. Without a word, he gently cupped your face in his hands.

Feeling the heat of his breath against your skin, you closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips met yours in a soft kiss. It was as if all the pent-up emotions and desires that had been simmering between you erupted in that moment, igniting a fire that burned hotter than ever before.

Chan's kiss became deep and fervent, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You melted into his embrace, your hands tangling in his hair as you lost yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

As you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy with longing, you met Chan's gaze, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down your spine.

With a soft smile, Chan brushed his thumb across your cheek, his touch tender and affectionate. "I'm sorry for everything," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity, “I really like you, and it hurts to see you distance yourself. I really didn't want to lose you.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned in to press another gentle kiss to his lips, a silent promise of the future that lay ahead. And as you both stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united by the unbreakable diving record of love.

a/n: the first recreational pursuits series have been released!! so sorry for the long wait, but it is finally here! thank you guys for the support, until the next!

#skz #skz angst #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #skz x you

221 notes · View notes

itsthestutterforme · 2 months

Text

Should We Try Again? 1/2 (toxic!Rafe Cameron x toxic!reader)

Summary: Rafe tries to accuse you of cheating, and you did some snooping of your own. And when Rafe found out you went through his phone, you were in for it.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Topper is a really good friend in this fic, reader is black, dark themes (choking, threats, arguing, name calling, overall just toxic behavior)

If any of these making you uncomfortable, pls don’t read. Take care of yourselves.

You and Rafe had one of your fights again. The yelling match, screaming in each other’s face kind of fight.

The kind of fight where the police gets called because someone heard glass breaking and shouting.

This particular time, he logged into your Instagram and founded close to 50 DMs from guys commenting on your stories where you posted your OOTDs.

You never opened any of the DMs but there were too many to go unnoticed.

“Do you get off on having other guys want you or something? Huh?” He starts as he abruptly forces his way into the bathroom where you were showering.

“What are you talking about, Rafe?” You snark, ringing out the water from your hair.

“What the hell is this?” He rips the shower curtain open.

“Rafe!” You scold, shutting off the water so none leaks onto the floor. He shoves his phone in your face and repeats, “What the hell is this?”

“They’re DMs, Rafe. Why are you talking to me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did do something wrong by not blocking these sons of bitches. You like the attention, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut, asshole. It’s DMs. They don’t mean shit!”

You close the shower curtain so you can resume your shower when he ripped it open again.

“Oh it means something when they’re sending dick pics, Y/N! They want to fuck you!”

“It doesn’t matter if they want me because I’m with you, Rafe. Not them.” You tried to reason.

You were already exhausted from work and you really didn’t need this right now.

“You’ve been sending them nudes, haven’t you?” “Are you fucking serious, Rafe?” “Do I look like I’m joking right now?” He says flatly, his nose flaring angrily.

“No, I haven’t sent anybody nudes. I didn’t even know they sent me dick pics because I don’t open them, Rafe.” He gives you a pointed look and you crossed your arms as a challenge.

It was clear you weren’t going to shower in peace so why not add some fuel to this fire.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Shame on me for having fifty unopened DMs but everything is okay when you have hundreds of opened DMs?” You antagonize, slowly stepping out of the shower with suds still on your body.

You watch as his face fell for a few seconds before it hardens once again.

“You’ve been going through my phone?” He asks. “Of course I have! Because I know you’ve been in my phone, desperate to find secrets to use against me. So I figure why not dig up some secrets of my own.”

“Y/N,” he warns lowly, taking a step towards you.

“What did you find?” He wrote down a few things about the cross.

Like where he’s already looked and potential places where it might be. But he hid those notes behind a passcode in his journal.

There were also a few texts of Ward asking ‘if it was taken care of’. Garret’s body.

There was no way you could figure out the passcode, right?

“What are you so scared I would find?” You questioned, purposely being vague. There was no point in being specific, if he was going to connect the dots for you.

His anxiety got the best of him and he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a warning squeeze.

“Stop being cute and tell me what you saw.” He orders.

There wasn’t a constant pressure so you were able to breathe fairly normal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind.

“I only went through your social media and some of your messages. Nothing else.” His hand twitched around your throat when you mentioned messages.

“I just wanted to see if you were texting others girls.” You added, wrapping your hands around his wrist.

“What else?” “Nothing else, I swear.��

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.” “I’m not lying to you.” He pulls away from your throat and you instinctively touched your collar bone.

His gaze softens when you stepped away from him. He itched to get close to you and apologize for over reacting, but he still wasn’t sure that you didn’t know about the gold and the bodies.

So his hands remained by his sides, tightening every so often.

“What are you protecting?” You asked cautiously. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He states before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the front door of your house.

That was a few days ago, and you haven’t spoke to each other since. The most interaction you’ve had was him viewing your story. That’s it.

You’ve been going straight home after work, not wanting to interact with anyone unless you had to.

But a small part of you wished you’d come home to Rafe waiting for you on your door step or him come to see you during your break.

But he never did. That was enough for you to come to the conclusion that he stopped caring about you.

He was so worried about protecting something or someone that was willing to choke you out to protect it.

You’ve seen him anxious about a few things but nothing set him off like you did that night.

You were watching one of your comfort movies with your fleece blanket wrapped around you, eating some stir fry you ordered on UberEats when your phone chimed.

Topper: hey you doing okay?

Tossing the phone back on the bed, you used the chopsticks to dip a piece of beef into the speciality sauce before eating it.

Your phone chimed again.

Topper: We were friends before you started dating Rafe, remember? I care about you too.

You: I assume Rafe told you everything?

Topper: Just that you had an argument and you’re on a break

You: Well that’s an oversimplification.

Topper: I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come.

You: I’m not exactly in the mood to get hit on by a bunch of drunk dudes.

Topper: Stick by me and you won’t have that problem.

You: You’re right. Instead, you would have a Rafe sized problem.

Topper: I’m not scared of Rafe.

Topper: Just come by for a few. It makes me feel uneasy that you’re by yourself at home all this time.

Topper: Please.

You: Fine, Topper.

Topper: Great! I’m on my way.

You hated yourself for how quick your eyes locked in on Rafe as soon as he walked into the party wearing a navy blue shirt and a white hat that matched his white cargo shorts.

He dapped up a few guys that greeted him by the front door and looked straight up to where you were sitting next to Topper.

He found you almost immediately with an expressionless face.

Your heart skipped a beat that he looked for you but that feeling of elation left you as quickly as it came.

He didn’t reach out to you for three days. No call. No text. No apology. He was done and now it was your turn to feel the same.

“You two are like magnets,” Topper says from behind you. “Toxic ones,” he eventually adds with a chuckle.

“I knew you were going to say that,” you teased, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Sadness kicked your gut when two girls approached Rafe, one of them ran her hands over his chest as she went to whisper something in his ear.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” You said when you notice Rafe coming up the stairs with the girls.

“I’ll come with you,” you gave him a look. “What? I meant it when I said stick by me. Let’s go.”

He lets you lead the way and you go down the second set of stairs but you stopped abruptly, peering down at your jewelry.

Everything you were wearing was gifted to you by Rafe, even down to the earrings. You still wore the R golden plate necklace and matching anklet. You had his signet ring on your thumb because that was the only finger it could fit.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Topper questions. Rafe was watching the entire interaction from the loveseat you and Topper were just sitting on.

You bent down to take off your anklet and moved to take off your earrings next.

“Can you help me take off the necklace?” You asked, pulling off the ring and placing it with the other jewelry.

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing your passion twists out of the way.

You felt his warm hand brushing against the back of your neck when he unclasped the necklace.

He put the necklace in your outstretched hand. You walked back up the few stairs you crossed and approached Rafe whose eyes were still trained on you.

You let out a shaky breath before taking his warm hand into your own and giving him the jewelry. You were beginning to miss his touch.

Guilt flashed across his face, looking down at his hand. You avoided his gaze and left him without another word, rushing down the stairs and Topper followed after you.

“Well that was dramatic,” one of the girls says, rolling her eyes while her friend eyes the gold carat in Rafe’s hand that easily amounted to 75k.

“Can I have the earrings?” She asked and before Rafe could respond, she reached for them anyway.

Rafe caught her hand in a tight grip and she whimpers at the pressure.

“You’re hurting me,” she groans.

“No one told you to touch what’s hers,” he shoves her to the ground. “Hey! You asshole!” Her friend snaps, standing from the couch and helps her friend to her feet.

He doesn’t spare them another glance as he digs in his pocket for a baggie to do a few lines.

“Y/N,” Topper calls, finally catching up with you in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He asks you, examining your face for anything he could read.

“You should check on him,” you poured yourself a shot in a small solo cup and knocked it back, barely making a face.

“I’m checking up on you,” “It needed to be done, okay. All of it were just reminders of what I don’t have anymore.” You explain, pouring yourself another shot.

“That was very brave for you to do.” “Then why do I feel like shit?” You huffed after taking another shot and he stops you from pouring another one.

“Because the break up is still fresh, Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re going to fall apart before his very eyes.

His soft eyes examines your face for any micro expression that could give away what you’re thinking.

“Look, Top. I know you’re trying to help and all but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to cry.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I want to enjoy your party. Your birthday is tomorrow. You shouldn’t be spending it watching me cry.”

“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving you.” He shakes his head and you took his hands into yours, much like you did with Rafe.

But Rafe’s hand were warmer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend. I’ll find Sarah.” He studied your face once again and you gave him a soft smile.

“Go,” “Alright,” he says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’ll come find you in like ten minutes.”

“Take your time,” he leaves the kitchen and you let out a deep sigh. You shouldn’t be here.

But you didn’t have the heart to ditch Topper on his birthday rager.

You pressed your palms into the cool, granite countertop and bowed your head to release the tension in your neck.

You hadn’t realize someone was in the kitchen with you until you heard footsteps and someone’s low voice. To your surprise, it was Pope standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” You asked softly, the shot were slowly starting to get to you.

“I said you are too pretty and insanely smart to be treated like an option.”

That was the nicest thing anyone said to you. You haven’t felt valued in a long time.

“Thanks, Pope. That really means a lot.”

His mouth fell open at your words. “You know who I am?”

“Yes I know who you are. Your family makes the best seafood boils in town.” You explained with a chuckle.

“She knows my name,” he said to himself, which he quickly realized you can hear.

“I should haven’t said that out loud,” he admits and you let out a laugh.

“You’re cute,” he scratches the back of his neck to hide how flustered he way. “Um, are you hiding from Rafe in here?”

“Yes, I am.” You admitted, crossing your arms. “Well if you want some company, my friends are by the bonfire outside. If you want to join. O-only if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything or-“

You interrupted his rant to say, “Sure. I’ll go with you.” You took a solo cup and swung by the keg on the way out, offering some to Pope.

“By the way, what makes you think I’m insanely smart?” “I’m a TA for Mr. Patterson. He still uses your test as a grading key.” He explains after taking a swig of your beer.

“Of course he does. I loved his class.” You admitted with a chuckle. “What is this?”

JJ stands from the chair and motions between you and Pope with his ringed pinky.

“I told her she can hang out with us.” “Hey, JJ.” You greet with a small wave.

“‘Sup, sweetheart. Want a hit?” He offered a blunt to you and you graciously accepted.

He had a grin on his face as he watched you take a hit. He expected you to cough or at least have your eyes water from the potency but much to his surprise, you exhaled the puff of smoke slowly without a fuss.

The mix of the weed and the tequila was throwing your head in a spin. “Never pegged you to be a pothead,” “I’m full of surprises, Maybank.”

A drunk Rafe stumbles outside in search for you when he finds you laughing with Pope and JJ.

JJ noticed your shivering whenever there was a breeze and peeled off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Rafe wasn’t even aware what was happening until his vision started to blur.

He was crying.

#black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron x you

224 notes · View notes

beautifulhigh · 4 months

Text

Wanna get angry on this Saturday? Cool. Come join me on this.

I think Miguel hacked Alex's emails way before the leak.

Alex wouldn't be able to just "drop by" somewhere for coffee. It would have to be cleared, vetted, all the usual stuff. So he will have a routine that he follows, a routine which includes (at least) one Secret Service member. And when you have a routine and protection like that, schedules will be sent out confirming who is with Alex and what the plan is for the day. Sent out by email. And OH LOOK he's in the coffee shop...

Alex tells Zahra that he "emailed senior campaign staff" three weeks ago with his Texas memo. A memo that Miguel has read by the State DInner. He says he "quite literally has his sources" and... well.

The email leak. Miguel has his article written and published within hours of them being put on Reddit and he is called out on how quick that is.

So when did Miguel hack Alex's email?

"We made out once, on the campaign..."

Ellen Claremont was on the verge of making history (huh). The first female president, in a mixed race marriage with a biracial, bilingual son. The Lometa Longshot going all the way to the White House. Getting the inside track on that would have been one hell of a scoop and when you have her son, desperate to do more, be more in this world, then that's an in you can manage. Get some details about the campaign, how things are going. But also finding out about the people behind it - film!Oscar and his own political campaigns. Alex, the up and coming law student.

Little flirting, little making out "fully naked, in a hot tub"... You gotta wonder where Alex's phone was at that time and whether Miguel got his hands on it.

From day one, the central mission of POLITICO has been to help sustain and vastly expand nonpartisan political and policy journalism by winning the audience. (From Politco's "About" page)

Alex talks about how he's good for "photo ops and New Year's parties and stupid shit like that" and so there is an interest in Alex, the First Son. He's good looking - the party is filled with the "who's who of eligible young women" and we know from Henry's first text that he attends events with a plus one. And Miguel has a line into that, to win the audience for Politico with updates about Alex doing more, being more, working as part of his mother's campaign.

So yeah. I think Miguel got access to Alex's emails back on the first campaign trial which makes it all the more horrible as he watched those emails come through in real time. He knew what was going on when he was in New York, making comments about them being in the same hotel.

"Do you really think we're ever hooking up again?" "Well I don't anymore"

is his reply in a lovely bit of equivocation because Alex is clearly shutting him down this time... but maybe he also knows about Henry. The Henry who walks in through the door moments later. Miguel knows he won't be hooking up with Alex because someone else is, and maybe the comment was a way to test the water. Would Alex turn him down and say or suggest he was seeing someone?

In the book more emails are exchanged following the storming of Kensington: there is no clear timeline in the movie: Labor Day is at the start of September (Lake House), it's a week before Alex flies to London (so mid-September), and the election is at the start of November. They are outed the week before polling (Zahra says "we'll find out next week" following Alex's speech) which makes it around mid to end of October when they're outed. That's about one month in which they would have been in touch, likely through emails, fully committed to this relationship and making it work.

Dropping the bomb before the election is one way to get traction because all eyes are on the White House at that time. Plus a month to pull off the emails, to get them sorted, make a plan for Reddit, start working on your article...? Taking each new message as it comes in?

Miguel hacked Alex's emails WAY before the leak and I'm pretty sure I'm willing to die on this hill.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #overthinking jen is overthinking #sorry about this #but when Alex said he emailed the campaign team #and knowing Miguel read it #and leaked the emails #it just made sense #and I got mad #so now I want to make y'all mad too #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #prince henry of wales

50 notes · View notes

nevernonline · 3 months

Text

✧.* grow as we go; svt smau.

entry #16; the part we play.

synopsis: over the past ten years you’ve fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it’s clear things would ever be the same again.

𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.

𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt

𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.

𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex’s, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

word count: 1.5k

note: in-between photo sets is some writing!! xo

masterlist ▸ 015 leave it to the cullens (part 2). ▸ 017 happy trails.

Jumping out of bed and throwing on a random pair of sweatpants scattered on her floor in what y/n referred to as her “stress pile” of clothes, she ran down the hallway to the front door to check who she had kept waiting for over ten minutes.

Much to her surprise it wasn’t one of her obnoxious friends waking her and her overnight guest up so early, but a shady one. Joshua.

“Y/n? I know you’re here, I asked the front door man if he had seen you leave yet this morning? Hello?”

And with a couple more knocks pounding in her brain, she swung the door open to reveal a smiling old friend holding a bouquet of wild flowers and a box of pastries.

“Sorry. Hangover. Why are you here?”

“Tomorrow is your birthday?”

“Right. But, it's also 7:30 in the morning?”

“I thought I’d come by today so I didn’t disrupt whatever plans you have tomorrow with Seokmin and Jun. That’s okay?”

“Yeah.”

“So.. Can I come in? Or do you not want to have a chocolate croissant?”

“I do, but coffee! I’m out of coffee. Can we go get some? I can’t possibly have a pastry without it, silly.”

“Yeah, of course. Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Why don’t you just use the-”

In all of her attempts at protesting Joshua walking through her apartment and finding the boy hidden in the guest room, he still managed to somehow find a way in. Just like he was doing to her heart. She knew she shouldn’t even entertain the idea of spending a day with him and pretend that she has no idea the amount of blackmail he had a hand in, but a part of her couldn’t help it.

In all her daze of thinking of the moral repercussions of his and her own actions. She didn’t even notice him slipping back by her side. As she rapidly texted the man she unnoticeably had hidden in the room down the hall it was his time to sneak out like a secret to be kept.

“Ready?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.”

“So, how was Wonwoo’s event?”

“Well for starters I had no idea that gamers drank so hard, I felt like I was back in freshman year of college trying to keep up with drunk Soonyoung and you at those dumb ass Dream Boy parties you used to take me to.”

“That hard, huh?”

“Yeah, I haven’t drank like that in so long. It’s fun once and a while I guess.”

Walking into the white walled coffee shop with Joshua felt like some sort of omen, but y/n couldn’t decide if it was a good one or a bad one just yet.

If Joshua was honest about his play in the game with Mimi, maybe someday down the road she could forgive him and patch up their friendship one last time. But, the more he waited to say anything, the more he lied and kept his secret the less she even believed he’d own up to his actions.

“What would you like?”

“Just a drip coffee please, large, no sugar or milk.”

“Okay, I’ll pay.”

“Wow. Thank you so much.”

Sensing y/n’s sarcasm, he smiled and turned towards the register placing their matching order and grabbing the cups as he handed her the steaming cup of fresh coffee and made their way back to her apartment.

Waiting to cross the street her front door opened, walking out was Minghao dressed in his same outfit from the night before, catching y/n’s eyes, as she quickly turned Joshua around to look at a dog passing by so Minghao could make his quick exit without any suspicion.

When she was sure he made his exit and got out of the line of sight, with Joshua by her side they headed back up to her apartment, announcing she needed to go use the restroom fast and search the bedroom that once belonged to another untrustworthy friend.

Under her laptop sitting on the desk, a small note was placed with just the corner of the purple sticky note sticking to the side.

‘Swan, by midnight tonight you’ll be one year older. I hope another trip around the sun brings you peace of mind and the happiness you truly deserve. See you tomorrow, MH.”

Placing the note under the cover of her laptop, she smiled to herself and decided now was the time to confront an elephant in the room.

She walked back up to Joshua sitting on her couch, the plate of chocolate croissants placed on the glass coffee table, two cups of coffee on either side.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course.”

“I need you to listen to me, like really listen and don’t deflect. I need you to tell me how you got my journal to Mimi.”

“I didn-”

“You did. I know it was you who took it, I just want to know why?”

“Just listen. I didn’t take it to give it to Mimi. I actually took it before she even got back in touch with me. And I didn’t just stumble upon it on my own time. Minnie showed me it, she wanted me to know how much I hurt you and how you felt about me because you never told me. You kept all those cards so close to your chest, I felt like I had to read more. So, the night of Mingyu’s bar opening, I had Mimi over at my house after, we were just catching up, talking, nothing too serious, she had just moved back and needed somewhere to stay for the night. She was the one who found your journal and took it and concocted the entire plan.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I guess why didn’t you just tell me all of this at the beginning?”

“I was just going to bring you your diary back and ask you out, I had feelings for you too. I still do. I eventually was going to tell you everything. But, it just got so complicated and the day I came over and saw Minghao here, I got so pissed off at you for trusting him after he hurt me, I figured he’d hurt you too.”

“But he didn’t. You did.”

“I know. I should’ve just told you the truth from the beginning, but I was scared to lose you.”

“You already had lost me. How am I supposed to even believe a word you’re telling me right now?”

“Because, I have proof. The only reason I even still talk to Mimi is to make sure she doesn’t go too far.”

“Why did you fight with Minghao then?”

“He pisses me off. Simple as that. I knew he had helped Mimi. I knew he was being deceitful to you as well, but so was I. It was just a matter of who owned up to it first.”

“Alright. What else do you know?”

“I know that Minnie is helping Mimi. They’ve been in contact with each other for quite some time, even before Mimi moved back. I can’t tell you why only because I genuinely have no clue. But, I have a feeling she's trying to hide something about herself and not exposing you.”

“And Mingyu?”

“No. He has nothing to do with it.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm, sure.”

“Do you think we can ever get past this? Even if we just stay friends or see each other once and a while?”

“If what you’re telling me is a hundred percent true, then I think we can. But, if I find out you’re lying to me, I will never speak to you again.”

“I can show you the texts. Between me and Mimi, Minnie, Minghao. Anyone involved.”

“Who sent me the bouquet? You right?”

“Yeah. It was just a warning to be careful about the people around you.”

“Okay. Well. Thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“There’s something else.”

“Uh, alright?”

“Tonight. There’s a party at Mingyu’s bar that Minnie was throwing for your birthday. I came over here initially to invite you. They told me only you’re invited. No Seokmin, Jun, or anyone else.”

“Why?”

“They wanted me to take you as a surprise.”

“My party is supposed to be tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“So they have something planned for me and I feel like it’s safe to say it’s not good.”

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s safe to assume that yeah.”

“Okay, if you want to make it up to me. You’ll help me sneak Minghao and the dorks into the back of his restaurant.”

“Yes.”

“Call Jeonghan, tell him everything. Get him to cause a distraction so they can come inside. Text Minnie and ask if it’s okay you invite Seokmin to come with you and I. It's believable I wouldn’t go anywhere on my own without him and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Are you going to tell me what the rest is?”

“Yes, eventually.”

“Okay, let’s hurry, we have about three hours until I’m supposed to bring you.”

“What’s the dress code?”

“Formal. It's some sort of mask party.”

“Fuck.”

“So you’re still friends with Hao?”

“Yes, idiot. I heard you jiggle the doorknob this morning. Come on.”

taglist: @sun-daddy-yoriichi @hipsdofangirl@kissesfrmwonwoo@minhui896@wonwooz1@porridgesblog@jasssy051@soonyoungblr@saucegirlreads@musingsofananxiouspotato@young-adult-summer@punkhazardlaw@bibs-world@the-swageyama-tobiyolo@wonuulvr@woozixo@k-drama-adict@90s-belladonna@blaycke@dnylwoo@to-mi-yo, @nonononranghaee

note: hi me again!! lol. I hope you enjoy this messy lil installment. not my favorite (everyone says this sometimes ik ik) let me know what you think our resident traitor mimi is up too 👀

40 notes · View notes

coraxtheclown · 8 months

Text

our synced dreams (crk x once upon a time (an au)

there’s gonna be multiple parts, this is part 1. there’s also gonna be similar stories to this one with different people

Elias = Espresso, Maxwell = Madeleine, and Laura = Latte

“Huh? What on Earthbread is…”

“ESPRESSO COOKIE! Can you hear me!? Answer me!! ESPRESSO COOKIE?!”

“…Huh? What is going on this time?”

“!!! ESPRESSO COOKIE!!!”

And with the echoing voices floating around his head, Elias shot up from his cluttered, yet neat desk, as he frantically looked around in confusion.

‘Another cursed dream.. how did i even manage to fall asleep?’

He thought, as he rubbed the grogginess from his eyes as he sat up from his desk filled with neatly arranged books, class work, graded and ungraded, and, most importantly of all, his own research. The familiar voices rung in his ears as he stood up to make himself another coffee. he checked the time: it was 3:37 in the morning. He had so much work to do, so going back to sleep was out of the question. Though, he couldn’t get the eerie familiarity of the dream he had out of his head. The voices.. the other cookie-human. It was funny, to have a dream about gingerbread cookies speaking feel so familiar. The familiarity of these dreams was not a new feeling. Yet the odd familiarity and the unsettling coldness sent chills down his spine every time they occurred. He pulled out a sticky note and made a reminder to write about the dream in his journal. He had hope keeping a journal of these dreams would help him remember where they were from… a lost TV show, or series? Maybe an unknown video game, or a movie. But the striking resemblance in personality and voice of the knight in those dreams were so similar to that of the police chief, Malcolm. The voices were exactly the same… yet, what would make these dreams hell to experience would be the forgetting. Every person forgets a dream days, but with these dreams, the feeling would linger in everything you’d do for weeks, and you could barely remember what had even occurred.

He may as well have been on autopilot, since his thoughts had clouded what he was doing. Before he knew, he was already in the kitchen, with a mug in his hand. But, the thought of more coffee alone would make him feel worse, especially with the feeling of forgetting and regretting that was lingering in his stomach and his head. He decided take the dream notebook and to head to the local 24-hour coffee shop run by his cousin. It baffled him how she was a teacher and a café owner, but that was none of his business. However, that coffee was.

It wasn’t a far walk from his apartment complex to that coffee shop, though once he arrived, he wondered how safe it would be to travel alone there. His cousin perked up, and he was greeted with a “Going crazy again?” since she knew by now he would only come at such odd hours after a dream. It wasn’t new to her, as most people came around at odd hours after the cursed dreams. It was the reason she chose to keep her store open 24 hours, so that we could meet and talk to her or anyone else about anything, but mostly about the cookie dreams. It made him wonder if the whole town was going crazy- maybe some kind of gas leak was slowly killing them and the toxins made them hallucinate?

“Uhm hello?? Were you planning on getting something Mr. Espresso?” His cousin’s voice snapped him back into reality.

“Ah, yes. You know what i want.”

“Of course! 2.59. pay up.” He chuckled slightly and handed her 5$.

“keep the change, or donate it to charity.” he joked, trying to remove the sinking feeling of eeriness in his stomach. he sat down to write about the dream, when the bell to the entrance chimed. he looked over to see none other than the police chief, Malcolm, who’s voice and god-awful personality had made it’s way into his dream.

“Hello Laura, and good morning Elias!” he boasted as he went over to sit with him. Elias sighed, rolled his eyes, and said nothing as he continued writing about his dream.

“I had the strangest dream last night.” he started on a non-sensical decent into a story about a dream, which he was not interested in hearing due to the issues with the dream of his own.

“It has you in it, as an espresso flavored gingerbread cookie. i had found you injured, and i rescued you!”

Elias’ heart stopped for a moment. everything stopped for a moment. a dream, no, nightmare, so familiar to him it was more of a distant memory… and this dream-memory tormented not only him, but the other person involved in it? his mind started racing with all the possibilities. but he managed to choke out,

“i had the same dream..” he must’ve looked as sick or as nervous as he felt, though he had no clue what was so scary about cookies, he had a sinking feeling of fear. it was a new dread, a hole in his stomach, like a chunk of his brain had been missing, and he was right there in terms of finding it, but in the complete opposite direction. his mind was trapped in a labyrinth of possibilities, desperately taking turns for an answer, or an exit.

“Eli, are you alright?” Laura once again brought him back as she set his espresso in front of him, and a few madeleine cakes in front of the chief. he sighed and nodded, taking a sip of the drink and setting it on the table.

“i didn’t expect to be able to have the same dream at the same time. did it seem… off, in any way?” he inquired the chief.

“why yes! it felt quite familiar almost…” he happily replied, and Elias felt like he could be sick.

“it is nice to know i’m not alone in th-“ the scientist grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close to his face before demanding,

“from now on, you tell me if you dream about me. yes? even if not, write about it.” the chief nodded, and Elias sighed and let him go before realizing how awkward of a situation he had put himself in. what on earth had gotten into him, that he could grab somebody like that? he was not at all a violent person… it may have been the lack of caffeine, or the stress of these dreams weighing on him.

“i did not mean to grab you like that. apologies if the closeness made you uncomfortable.” he quickly blurted out.

“HAHA!! not to worry, Elias. i can handle every situation!” he smiled, and Elias sighed again. Laura chuckled, and the 3-way the conversation continued until morning, when they all had to separate for their work. for once, Elias went a day after a dream without the more negative feelings, as he had finally learned something: the dreams connected him to people.

#crk x once upon a time au #cr kingdom #crk x once upon a time #crk #crk au #creative writing #espresso cookie #madeleine cookie #latte cookie #fypシ

3 notes · View notes

backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

Text

Speak Easy Part 8

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 5816

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

TW: Mentions of torture, r*pe, and abuse.

************************************************************************

You had to squint one eye closed in order to focus hard enough to clean up Dabi’s wound. Upon further inspection you realized it hadn’t been that deep but there was something nagging at the back of your mind that you were just too drunk to grasp at right now.

He didn’t even flinch as you dabbed it with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. You were seated between his legs on the floor as he sat on the couch. You were eye level with his injury and close enough that if you wanted to, you could lick his abs. You suddenly found yourself fantasizing about pulling his cock out and letting him fuck your face. You shook the thought out of your head. You were a horn dog sober, and when you were drunk it was even worse. You must have been staring because Dabi’s fingers wove through your hair. “What’s going on through that drunk little head of yours?”

You leaned into it his hand a little and sighed, “I’m not drunk!... Anymore… And nothing appropriate.”

You felt him vibrate with soft laughter. “Oh yeah? I’d love to hear about it.”

You blushed, “No thanks.” You gently smoothed a bandage over his abdomen, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary.

He placed his free hand on top of yours and held it to him. “Sometimes I wish I had your quirk so I could always know what you’re thinkin’.”

Your eyes traveled up to meet his. “Well I do have my quirk and I still don’t know what’s going on in your head most of the time.”

He smirked at you, “Well that’s just because you’re nicer than I am. You never use your quirk on me without permission.” The fingers that were still in your hair tightened as he forced you to look at him. “But that’s because you’re such a good girl. You’d never do something without permission would you baby?” He glanced at the coffee table at the empty wine bottles. “Well I guess that’s not true huh? Looks like you helped yourself to some of my wine without asking first.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You weren’t here to ask!” His hand that had been on top of yours started moving towards his crotch, dragging yours with it. “You left me here all alone without even talking to me about it first. It was scary!”

You started to pout, and it was honestly one of the cutest things he had ever seen. That sweet look in your eyes pierced his heart. He continued pushing your hand closer and closer to his semi hard cock. He was so warm and you wondered if it had something to do with his quirk. “I know and I really am sorry about that. I didn’t think it’d freak you out like that… But thank you so much for patching me up anyways.” His eyes softened a bit. “You’re such a good little nurse.”

You beamed at the praise. “You take care of me all the time. The least I can do is put a bandage on you when you get stabbed.” You gave him a pointed look, “Even if you won’t tell me why you were stabbed to begin with.”

He chuckled at you. “Well you won’t tell me what naughty thoughts you’re keeping to yourself either. Looks like we’re both guilty of hiding things.”

You chewed on your lip in thought. The action drew his eyes and he hummed. He brushed his calloused thumb over your bottom lip making you release it. “You can be such a tease you know that.” You quickly nipped at the tip of his thumb, and leaned closer to him. “For the love of god what are you linking about?”

“I’ll tell you…if you tell me what happened tonight.”

He groaned, “Bribing me huh?” He saw a seductive spark in your eyes that had him intrigued. “Okay but you first.” He pulled you closer so your head was basically laying in his lap. “And don’t leave out a single filthy detail…”

You got up on you knees and placed your hands on his thick thighs. “Well… At first, I was wondering what it would be like to lick your abs.”

You felt him begin to tense up. “Oh yeah? And what did my naughty girl want to do next?”

You licked your lips. “I wondered what it would be like if you…” You paused and you could feel your blush spreading over your cheeks.

“Yeah? What it would be like if I what?” He resumed playing with your hair in encouragement.

“What it would be like if you fucked my face…” Your eyes shot to his to gauge his reaction and what you saw lit a fire in your stomach.

You squeezed your thighs together and the feral look his gave you. A low growl left his lips as his hand came down to squeeze the back of your neck. “Such a dirty girl with such a dirty mouth.” He brought a hand up to your chin, “Open…” You obediently opened your mouth for him. His eyes practically glowed with hunger. You heard his zipper, but your eyes remained glued to his. “Law thirteen?”

You nodded but he just squeezed your chin. “Law says verbal or written consent. Use your words princess.”

“Yes… sir.”

He hummed as he brought his dick to your lips and paused for a brief moment. “You won’t be able to use your colors with my dick in your throat. If it gets to be too much, I need you to tap my hip twice to check in three times to stop completely. Confirm that you understand.”

Gasping at his words you could feel your thighs getting slick. “I understand sir.”

Before you could say anything else he was shoving his dick in your mouth. His hands scooped your hair out of your face, and he started his pace out slow. “There’s something so hot about knowing what a fucking bad ass you are. Yet here you are… sitting so pretty for me on your knees with my cock in your mouth.

You hummed in approval and you felt his dick twitch in your throat. His hips snapped forward and it took everything you had to stay still. Your fingernails dug into his thighs and you felt tears start to leak out the corners of your eyes. “Shhhhh relax your throat baby.” He brushed away your tears and his snapped forward again. “I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you look at me like that.” His pace picked up a bit. “Looking at me with those sweet, devoted eyes.”

The force of his hips left you unbalanced and now you really had to brace yourself on his thighs as he set a brutal pace. “Oh fuck yeah!” His hand was at the back of your head slamming it down to meet his thrusts. Your throat burned and it was getting harder and harder to breath.

He continued pounding into your throat relentlessly. “That’s it. Take.. it.. all.”

You reached down and started to rub your clit but Dabi didn’t seem to appreciate that. “What did we just say about asking for permission huh? Did you ask if you could play with my pussy.” He shoved himself to the back of your throat and held it there. “Because it is mine. And I don’t think there’s any way you could have asked when you’re practically gagging on my cock.” He pulled out all the way and you gasped for air. “On the couch, on your back. Now.”

You quickly complied and he swatted at your ass as you stood up. “Atta girl.” He pulled your head to hang off the end of the couch. He had a better angle now as he slowly pushed his dick past your lips. “At least this way if you’re going to play with yourself, I can have a better view.” He chuckled as he saw your hand dart between your legs.

You immediately started moaning around his dick making him growl as his fingers dug into the couch. “Baby girl, you better finish quickly because I’m almost at my limit and I can’t promise I’m going to have enough energy to get you off after.” He leaned over pulled your shirt up to expose your breasts. He started tweaking and playing with your nipples. “Come on… I know you’re close… I can see your legs shaking. Just fuckin let go already!”

Your fingers sped up and he gave one of your tits a hard slap. You orgasm came unexpectedly and had you practically screaming around his dick. “Fuuu---”

When he was finally ready to finish he shoved his dick all the way to the back of your throat and held your face to his him. He shot thick ropes of cum down your throat, but still he held you in place.

The lack of oxygen started to make you feel dizzy and you quickly tapped his hip twice. You just needed to breath. You needed to breath before you started to panic.

True to his word he pulled out immediately. “Shit… what’s wrong? You okay, was I too rough?”

You sucked in a huge breath and coughed. “N-no…” You took a second to regain your composure. “It’s just… too similar to… you know.” Your eyes cut to the pool and when he followed your gaze he stiffened.

You saw something like regret pass over his face. “That makes sense.” He looked flushed and absolutely worn out. You were honestly surprised he came so quickly. His injury must have taken more of him than he was letting on.

You crawled into his lap as he tucked his dick back into his pants. This close you could see how sweaty he was and how pale he looked. “Dabi… you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

His breathing was more like wheezing and he had to clear his throat before speaking. “I’ve been better. After that orgasm though, I’m sure I’ll be better in no time…”

His eyes started to flutter shut and you remembered that nagging feeling from earlier. You put a hand to his sweaty forehead and pushed the hair that had stuck there out of the way. “Are you always this hot?”

He chuckled but his eyes remained closed, “Thanks for noticing, you’re not too shabby yourself.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Are you this warm because of your quirk or do you have a fever?” You felt for his pulse and didn’t like how weak it felt. “Dabi, I did what you asked now it’s your turn. I need you to tell me what happened tonight.”

He moaned, “I got stabbed… and it hurt. What else do you need to know.”

If he wasn’t fading fast you’d slap him. “Dabi I’m not asking anymore. I need to know what happened. I think you were poisoned you idiot.”

“I was looking for somebody and I found him. He did a very bad thing and I personally made sure he paid the consequences.” He coughed a few times. “I just didn’t expect him to have a friend.”

“Dabi who was it? Who did you go after?” He weakly shrugged his shoulders, but you had had enough of his childish behavior. “No shrugging asshole.” You placed a hand on either side of his head and activated your quirk. “Open your eyes Dabi. Let me see your eyes please.” You watched as your words sunk in and his eyes snapped open against his will. You looked deep into them and connected with his mind. “Good boy, you’re doing great. Now show me what happened. I need you to remember what happened earlier tonight when you were stabbed.”

You could feel a light resistance on his end, but in the end he was too weak to put upmuch of a fight for long.

The memory came flooding to you. You saw the back of a man’s head and one of Dabi’s scared arms reaching for his shoulder. When the man turned around your heart froze. You knew that face. He was the last “mark” you had before your agency kidnapped you. It was a set up. He was supposed to be another guy for you to interrogate. Except when the time came you were the actual target that night.

You watched as Dabi sent a flame between the man’s legs and he howled out in pain. “As far as I’m concerned real men don’t behave to way you have. So, you don’t deserve to keep your ‘manhood’.” It was Dabi’s voice, but it didn’t really sound like Dabi. It sounded dark and sinister. It gave you goosebumps and made you grip his face even tighter. “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, but you see I have both heroes and villains in my pocket. There’s nowhere for you sick fucks to hide. You fucked with the wrong person and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

He brought a hot hand down to the man’s face and branded a line from his temple to the base of his neck. “There. Now you’re just an ugly son of a bitch with a crispy dick that doesn’t work anymore.”

“WHY?!” The man wailed and screamed. “WHAT DID I DO?”

Dabi punched him in the jaw, “You had the fucking audacity to touch what was mine. Now I’ve branded you for her… and when she’s ready I will fucking help her hunt you down.”

You sucked in a breath at his words. You should be disgusted, you should be appalled, horrified. But you felt a thrill shoot down your spine at the idea. You felt a barely conscious Dabi hum beneath you at the shared feeling.

You went back to watching the memory before you got carried away. Dabi was hurt and you needed to focus.

Dabi heard feet scurrying towards him but he didn’t have enough time to react before a knife sliced him across his ribs. With a hiss he turned around to look a tiny weasel of a man that you knew all too well. His quirk was called venom. His spit was unique. It caused hallucinations, fever, nausea, and in some extreme cases… death.

You had taken the man down when you were playing hero, but you had a lovely reunion when you were captured. He was a regular at first. They liked to use his saliva to try and torture you into submission. You would be sick for days, in pain, and having the worst hallucinations and fever dreams. You honestly never knew the difference because it was so hard to tell when you were awake and when you were asleep.

You pulled away from Dabi and heard him whine at your absence. “Shhh Dabi. I’m here, I didn’t go anywhere. Can you hear me?”

He nodded with a mumbled, “Loud and clear”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

His fingers found your shirt and gripped it trying to anchor himself to the here and now. “Rip the band aid off babe.”

You sighed and rubbed circles into his arm. “You did get poisoned. And I’m not going to lie the next few days are going to suck.” He groaned and his grip on your shirt started to weaken. “But the good news is you’re not going to die… Probably.” You could feel him slipping off into a dream. “But I’m here and I’m going to do everything I can to help.”

You activated your quirk and laid on top of him releasing as much happy, content, and relaxed feelings as you could. It was all you could do for him. You knew right about now he was probably having some kind of twisted nightmare. You knew they came in waves. You would just have to wait here until he woke up.

So, you did. Even though all you wanted was to pass out on top of him. You were tired and your head pounded but you continued to try and comfort him. Every time he twitched, every time he cried out you would just hold him tighter. It wasn’t until several hours later that you felt him start to wake up.

You picked your head up to look into his confused but pained eyes. “Y/n? Why does… why does everything hurt?”

He gulped and tried to sit up, but you pushed him back down. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. Please don’t move.” He wanted to argue with you but one look at you had him biting his tongue. You looked absolutely spent. Dark circles under your eyes and your face etched with worry. So instead he just nodded as he watched you struggle to get to your feet and walk into the kitchen.

You wobbled a little as you made your way to the fridge. You pulled out two sports drinks and a whole ass loaf of bread. You filled a bowl with cold water and grabbed a clean rag. You made your way back and took a seat next to Dabi who was now looking like he was going to puke. You sighed and grabbed the small trash bin that had been behind the couch.

“Okay. I need you to get as much of this down as you can before you get pulled back under. You’re going to throw up. It’s going to burn like a mother fucker. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do about that.” You adjusted a pillow under his head to help him sit up so he could try and eat. “I brought you a cold towel to help with the fever.” You placed it on his forehead and his hand grabbed your wrist.

“You need to eat something too. Law number-”

“Seven. I know. Three full meals. I’ll eat, I promise.” Your hands started to fidget uncomfortably. “Speaking of laws… I know Law two is no drugs… But I know you’re in pain. Whatever you want. Whatever you think will make you feel better.”

He gulped and nodded before giving you directions on where to find where he had hidden all the drugs and pills. You found the little orange bottle he had described and brought it back to him. You were happy to see he had eaten some bread and drank almost a whole bottle of Powerade.

You sat next to him and pulled his head in your lap. “I promise when you wake up next, I’ll have better food.” You ran you fingers through his white hair that was soaked with sweat.

“Thank you… I’ve never had someone… care like this. Not since my mom.”

You were glad he couldn’t see your face as a single tear flowed down your cheek. “I’ve been in your shoes. I know how awful it is. I would be a monster to make you go through this alone.”

His hand came up and found yours that was in his hair. “I would understand if you did. It would be what I deserved.” He lurched like he was going to be sick. You rolled him over onto his side and rubbed his back as he threw up into the bin.

“Don’t say that. I know you have a difficult past. But if there’s anything I’ve learned since being here is that you are worth trusting, and you are in your own twisted way a good person.”

He didn’t answer and for a while you both sat in silence. You rubbed his back as his breathing got slower until he fell asleep. You had a few minutes before the nightmares started so you quickly made your way to the kitchen and made some soup. You hoped it tasted good, it had been a while since you made it. It was an old family recipe. Your mom had convinced you that it was magic when you were younger and that it could cure anything. You prayed to your ancestors that just this once that were true. You brought the spoon up to your lips to try it when a loud sound from the living room made you drop it.

You rushed back into the living room to see Dabi shaking and crying. “NO! I can’t do it! Why won’t you believe me?” His words almost broke you. From your limited knowledge of his past you knew it had to be about Endeavor. You spooned him from behind and repeatedly kissed his back between his shoulder blades. “It hurts! STOP! I can’t DO IT!”

You did your best to calm him down, but you knew you were basically helpless. He just needed to ride this out. So, you sat there and listened to his pain and his sorrows and held him as you used your quirk the best you could. “You’re okay. I’ll hold you until you feel better. Nothing to be scared of.”

A routine was set after that. You ate whenever he ate. And you tried your best to take naps in between his nightmares. He was pretty out of it for most of it. There were only a few times he was actually lucid enough to know who you were. But even those moment were hard because all he did was apologize and try an convince you to leave him alone.

You had no idea how long it had been, only that it had been several days. The exhaustion was weighing on you, but you trained your whole life to be a hero, and this is what heroes did. They helped people. You knew it should be over soon. The past few times he had fallen asleep had been relatively peaceful and he had been keeping food down well enough. You felt like it was safe to doze off for a little while.

You curled up into his side and entered a thankfully dreamless sleep. You didn’t come too until you felt a tingling between your legs. You gasped as your eyes snapped open. Your hands reached out and found soft white hair. “D-Dabiiiii.” He sucked your clit into his mouth as two of his fingers pumped in and out of you. “What- FUCK- What are you doing?”

He groaned into you before pulling away, “Trying to enjoy my breakfast. Can I help you?” His fingers continued to pump in and out of you as his devilish blue eyes connected with yours. “I just want to show how appreciative I am.” He gave a quick lick that had your back arching. “I’ve been so patient waiting for you to wake up, but I couldn’t wait any longer. You’ve been asleep for almost two fucking days.” It was then you realized you had been moved. You were in his room, which wasn’t somewhere you were all too familiar with.

He continued to eat you out like he was starving, and you couldn’t do anything other than sit back and enjoy it. He hooked his arms around your thighs to pin you to his bed. You tried to squirm as you felt your orgasm rapidly approaching but you couldn’t budge. You closed your eyes and moaned so loud it echoed off of his high ceiling. Your thighs clamped around him as you came hard. He didn’t slow down as he just continued to lap up your juices as you came.

When you came down from your high, he was snuggling up to you, nose buried in your neck. “I don’t like how little you look. You look like how you did when you got here. You look tired, hungry, and sad…”

You hugged your arms around his neck, “That’s probably because I am tired, hungry, and sad. My whole body hurts. It’s been so long since I’ve used my quirk that consistently.” You flinched, “Speaking of my quirk… I’m sorry… for invading your privacy. I looked in your head without permission.”

His hand cupped your cheek. “Forget about it. Under any other circumstances I’d be fucking pissed, but you needed to know so you could help me…. Just… Don’t do it again.” He grumbled as he sat up. “Now get your ass out of bed, you need to eat something before I lose my fucking mind.”

He stood up and aggressively threw you over his shoulder as he stomped off to the kitchen.

“DABI! Put me down! You need to rest you idiot.”

He slapped your ass. “Shut up, I’m fine. If anyone needs rest, it’s you.” He set you down on the edge of the kitchen counter. “And that’s exactly what I plan on doing. All day. Just laying around doing nothing with you. But first you need to eat real food.” He kissed your forehead and turned to started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

You watched his naked back flex every so often as he cooked for you. It felt oddly familiar to the dozens of times you had watched Katsuki do this exact thing. You waited for the guilty feeling to overwhelm you but surprisingly it never came. You loved Katsuki in a very different way. Whatever this was with Dabi… it was just different. You don’t know if you’d be able to heal the same way you have been, if you were with Kats.

Katsuki loves you. You know he does. It’s because of that love that you don’t want him to be burdened with you at this stage of your life. There’s a lot of things you need to work through, on your own, before you can give him the kind of love he deserves. He’s a good man. A great man, and he doesn’t need to have someone like you weighing him down. You know he’d try and fix you. He’d do everything in his power to be your own personal hero. But that’s not what you need right now.

As bad as it sounds… you don’t have those concerns with Dabi. He’s somehow equally as fucked up while also capable of being supportive in the way you need. He’d let you be as crazy as you wanted but he’d also make sure you took care of yourself. He definitely had a tendency to dominate you, but if you were being honest you loved it. Neither of you have talked about what it is you are doing, or if it has an expiration date. But for the time being you were okay with it.

You must have been lost in thought because Dabi flicked your forehead, “Earth to idiot. Your breakfast is ready.”

“Hey!” You rubbed the sore spot on your forehead. “Was that necessary?”

“Well considering I called your name several times… yes. You’re lucky I didn’t bend you over my knee.” He held a fork out to you that had a bite of egg on it.

You rolled your eyes and took the bite. “I was just thinking about stuff. It’s not like I was ignoring you or anything.”

He placed a plate of food down next to you and moved to stand between your legs. “Yeah well I don’t like fucking repeating myself. Besides I have something I need to talk to you about and I need your attention.”

The color drained from your face. He rarely sounded this serious and it made you nervous.

“After what happened last night… I think its obvious we have a lot that we need to talk about.” He put his hands up in defense, “And before you start to nag, I’m not talking about the status of” He gestured between the two of you, “Whatever this is. I’m talking about just talking. I literally just experienced my worst nightmares on loop for days while feeling like I was dying. And knowing that’s only a fraction of what you went through.” His fists clenched and you could smell smoke coming off of them. “I just think we need to start talking.” You took your hands in his to help calm him down. “Reliving some of that shit made me realize I’ve never talked about it. I know there has to be things you need to get off of your chest… It might suck. But I feel like it would help.”

You nodded. “I think I understand what you mean. Just know that some of the things I have to say might make you look at me a little differently.”

To this he had the audacity to laugh, “And you think my shit isn’t any worse.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be lucky if you don’t lock yourself in your room again after learning about me.”

Dabi hid his face in your neck and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “You’ve literally drowned me before. I don’t think you can sink much lower than that.”

He was about to snap back at you when someone cleared their throat making you jump.

He groaned but didn’t make any attempt to move, “Oh yeah… Your friends here.”

You noticed the emphasis he put on the word friend as Katsuki rounded the corner.

You shoved Dabi away and hopped off of the counter. “Kats! What are you doing here?”

Katsuki’s eyes seemed distant as he made his way towards you. “You guys really haven’t been watching the news? It’s all people have been talking about recently…”

Dabi snickered, “We’ve been uh… busy lately.”

Your hand flew out and smacked his chest before looking back to Katsuki who looked murderous. “Don’t listen to him. Dumbass got himself poisoned and I’ve been working around the clock the past few days to keep him alive.”

“And what an excellent job you did.” Dabi’s tone was teasing. You knew it was more to piss off Bakugo then anything else. “She overdid it though. Ended up having to sleep it off. So I wasn’t lying to you last night when you were throwing your little tantrum.”

“Tantrum?” You looked between the two men who seemed to be consumed with some kind of staring contest.

Katsuki was the first one to break to look at you. “I have something important to tell you. I came over last night and he wouldn’t let me see you.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “He was the one acting like a possessive child. Treating you like some kind of toy he doesn’t want to share. He locked you in his room and told me to fuck off. If anyone was throwing a tantrum it was him.”

You could feel heat beginning to radiate off of the both of them. Dabi snorted, “That’s hilarious coming from the guy who demanded I wake you up even though I told him you were exhausted and needed sleep.” Dabi’s voice lowered as he took a step forward, “And just so we’re clear, she may not be a toy… but I still don’t fucking share.”

You put a hand on either of their chests. “She can fucking speak for herself thank you.” You shoved them both towards the living room. “Okay, what did come all this way to tell me?”

Katsuki gave you a sad look and handed you his phone. “Your agency came out with an official statement about where you’ve been.” You looked at the screen and saw an article and at the top was a black and white security cam photo of you straddling a man in a hotel room with a knife to his throat.

Katsuki cleared his throat, “They told everyone that you were secretly working with several villainous organizations. They’ve pretty much blamed you for every missing hero and assassination in the past few years. They’ve labeled you as dangerous and a top priority, person of interest.”

He looked at Dabi with a little annoyance. “It seems some people have been targeted lately, and it looks like it scared them into taking action.”

You continued to scroll through the article in silence. Picture after picture of you doing their dirty work. You didn’t even know they had pictures like this. But it makes sense. Of course they would want an insurance policy. You knew too much.

You shoved the phone back into Katsuki’s phone. “So that’s it then? I’m what? Enemy number one? A villain?” You felt angry tears pool in your eyes. Why was it so easy for these people to ruin your life. “All I wanted was to be a hero. I just wanted to help people… And they… they fucking ruined my life and for what? I’ve been used, kidnapped, raped, tortured, and for WHAT!?”

Katsuki reached a hand out to you but you flinched away. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” You knew it wasn’t his fault, but it was so hard to look at him when he had everything you wanted. He was a hero. He was respected and feared, and he was just a part of the system that was currently ruining your life. No one would ever dare try to do to him what they’ve done to you.

You could feel yourself shaking with rage. The world you knew, the system you believed in was crumbling around you.

“Maybe they’re right… My whole life people have said I have a villainous quirk. And I was so desperate to prove them wrong that I did exactly what they thought I would. Maybe I was doomed from the start…”

You wanted to be alone, you stood up and went back to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a seat at the bar with your back to the men behind you.

“Listen she’s just going to need to digest this in her own time. She’s found out what I’ve known for years. The whole heroes vs. villains thing is bullshit.” You heard them shuffling towards the front door. “I may hate you, but I promise… as soon as she’s ready to talk to you I’ll have her call you.”

You knocked back shot after shot until you started to feel numb.

“I have a feeling you aren’t going to be a cute drunk this time huh?” Dabi took a seat next to you with a shot glass.

You silently filled up your shot glass as well as his. “Well I guess that just depends on you.” You raised your glass to him. “Are you going to make me talk about it right now? Or are we just going to get fucked up and deal with it tomorrow?”

He lifted his glass to yours, “I vote we get fucked up. I think you deserve it. We can be responsible tomorrow.”

You smirked as you threw your shot back. “Good because I was going to with our without your blessing.”

“Hmmm seems like whisky makes you feisty… Let’s see how feisty you can get.” He tapped his shot glass on the counter, “Fill it up bitch, I have some catching up to do.”

*************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe @unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry @dabislittlemouse@aimee1602 @pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker @bestgirlb

137 notes · View notes

blush-and-books · 3 years

Text

i’m sorry, but i fell in love tonight

short fic based off of this gifset by @juliesmolinas and the song is there somewhere by halsey. in fact it is mandatory that you listen to the song/read the lyrics/both before/during reading this. yes i said mandatory.

angst with a sappy ending, julie goes through a lifetime of emotions in less than 3k, was originally gonna write when i was in a more emotionally raw state but writing this made me emotionally raw so... enjoy <3

warnings: swearing

Julie made the promise at some point -- she just doesn’t know exactly when.

It may have been when he appeared at her school, all shy smiles and soft glances, professing that she made him a better writer. Or, more definitively, it could have been when she forlornly pulled him into her arms a moment before she was positive that she was to lose him forever.

All that she knew was her time with Luke was fleeting. So she swore that her butterfly-wing crush was not allowed to fill her chest or dizzy her thoughts; that his lyrics would mean nothing more next to hers than words on a page and his touches would bring her little to no comfort.

Luke Patterson could not complete her.

The universe wouldn’t allow it -- and neither would Julie Molina.

But -- either Luke was blissfully unaware of their impending doom or he genuinely didn’t care -- he forced himself through every barrier she attempted to erect. And it was driving her nearly insane, because she made a promise to protect herself.

Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to do it. Or maybe the universe, despite refusing to give Julie Luke in his entirety, did not want her to be protected.

It was all in the little things-

When she stayed up with him in the garage, playing him all of the songs he’s missed in 25 years, and he danced around on the slippery floor in his socks and grinned at her with wide green eyes. The neon emerald in the dim light was reminiscent of driving on the highway and passing sign after sign leading to the exits she could have taken, but couldn’t bring herself to.

How New Years Eve arrived and the Molina family gathered in the driveway to light sparklers; Luke’s hand brushing hers as he passed off one of the two in his hands.

In his head lulling onto her shoulder while she was trying to finish some homework with his help on the torn couch and his lips moving against her bare skin as he mumbled that she needed to take a break before driving herself insane; followed by her braiding her hair to get it out of her face.

She already had driven herself insane -- but not over her homework.

(His mouth on her shoulder was the answer to a prayer she never dared to murmur aloud.)

Luke never failed to be present when he was needed. If she was sick or stressed or depressed, he knew when to fuse to her side and when to offer some space. Through careful observation rather than conversation, he knew which of her many sweatshirts were reserved for illness or emotional support.

In most of those situations, she needed him, too. Her fingernails would curl into his biceps through a cramp or wave of tears and he would wrap her in his embrace and swarm her with warm words that dried her eyes.

She hated it.

When they wrote music, it felt as though they were already reading each other's minds before either of them had spoken a word about their plans. Their journals contained inky black waterfalls spilled from an intimacy that Julie did not want to dissect.

Again, she hated it. She loved it more than anything and hated that she loved it all -- because it could never be real.

She would always play second fiddle to death.

Julie made the promise to herself to not let Luke complete her because, while she had him for now, the night of the Orpheum was a reminder that the universe would not hesitate to snap it’s fingers and eliminate him from existence.

The universe, being the confusing, stubborn bitch it is, just didn’t get the memo on that promise.

Because Luke filled every crack and restored every gap in her being, and he shouldn’t.

The hopeless, pining romantic in her that constantly argued with her realist side said they were meant to meet. Even if it was brief and heartbreaking and had the power to hurt her in a way she didn’t understand, it had to happen. If it wasn’t supposed to happen, then how and why did he cross space and time only to fall at her feet?

(Soulmates, a taunting voice whispered. Soulmates.)

((The voice was locked in a closet as punishment.))

She didn’t want to entertain the word. It had too much of a forlorn, wistfully romantic sound to it that Julie didn’t need to associate with Luke when she spent most moments with him at this point convincing herself that she wasn’t in love.

Until tonight.

It is past midnight, which is when anyone’s mental state starts to alter. Things that would be labelled as bad ideas in the daylight could very possibly become fair game when shrouded in a darkness that made everything private. The two of them, Luke and Julie, Julie and Luke, are nestled together on the piano bench as her fingers tiredly press each cut of ivory in a working melody.

“I have an idea,” Luke says, gently shifting his left hand to cover hers on the keys. “Why don’t we press pause on this song for a minute?”

Then, she finally looks up at him. Her eyes probably have crescents like the dark side of the moon crossing her skin, and her hair is all over the place, but he’s staring at her in one of the rare ways that she hates.

She hates it because the look convinces her that she completes him.

This time, however, there’s a hope. A hope, and a hesitance, and she’s simultaneously extremely nervous and beyond curious as to what his plans are.

“Did- Didn’t you want to finish this tonight?”

Regret strikes across his face, but he recovers. The softness is back. “Yeah, I just think we need a change of pace.” Right hand on the back of his neck: A telltale sign of a confession of some kind. She’s seen it more times than is healthy. “There was another song I wanted to show you, actually.”

“Oh.” She blinks, he waits. “Yeah, uh, I mean, yeah. Show me. What do you have so far?” He clears his throat as he thrums through the pages to find his target. “The whole thing.”

Julie doesn’t have time to react -- although she’s already in a panic -- before the leather-bound book is being awkwardly shoved into her hands, and the first thing she sees at the top is Luke’s nearly illegible scribble of Dark Room (song for Julie).

“Luke-”

“Just read it.” His voice is significantly raspier than it was a minute ago. “Please.”

She can’t. If he feels the same way and the confession is undeniably in front of her, then what is she supposed to do? Would she rather break Luke’s heart now to save them both down the line, or delay the misery a little longer?

It’s not that she doesn’t want it -- she does. But she doesn’t know if she’s emotionally equipped for any of the options that are offered to her. The destination of any path she chooses leads to a world of heartache.

So, she does the only thing she can think in the moment: She reads the song.

Instantly, the lyrics are blurred from the tears in her eyes because she sees the words “love” and “together” and her greatest fears and grandest wishes are coming true. The sonnet proclaims that she’s his light that illuminated his once-dark forever, and that he was hers when they didn’t even know each other, and that he will be hers wherever he ends up next.

He just wanted her to know that he would have waited another lifetime in the blank, limitless limbo he was in for 25 years if he knew she would be there when he was set free.

And, in the moment, Julie allows herself to acknowledge that her promise is broken.

She’s fallen in love.

And, apparently, he has too.

(Maybe they can claim just one night. The universe owes them that much, doesn’t it?)

“Julie?” God, he sounds so worried. A shaking finger trails up her jaw to catch falling tears, and his contact makes her gasp. He pulls away and shoves his hands together to fidget in his lap. “Julie, are you- Fuck, I’m sorry, I just fucked this up, didn’t I? I fucked it all up. Fuck, I-”

When she chances a look up at him for the first time in the couple of minutes that she’s been staring, hopelessly, at the song in her lap -- he’s got his face covered by his hands pressing roughly into his eyes, and he’s turned to face the piano instead of her.

He takes a deep breath, and it sounds…

Stuffy.

Three more tears leak from Julie’s eyes. More build up every minute as her right hand runs along his shoulder, “Luke…”

“No, Julie, please just drop it.”

“Luke.”

“I clearly misread a lot of stuff, and I’m tired, so maybe you can just go to bed and forget-”

Her hand wraps tightly around his upper arm like it’s done so many times when she has been in distress. “Luke.”

There’s a crack in her voice from sheer desperation. She needs him to look at her, so that she can wipe his tears and smile through the sobs and tell him he didn’t misread a single thing. She would wait a lifetime for him to come out of the dark room, she loves him too, and she’s going to forget all about it.

And ask him to do the same.

At least the scratch of his name catches his attention long enough, because he angles back towards her, and swallows thickly before meeting her eyes. Salty teardrops linger against his eyelids and eyelashes; the red rimming illuminating the oceanic green to look like a gemstone. Her grip relaxes.

“Yeah, Julie?”

She attempts a smile. “The song is beautiful, Luke. I love it.”

I love you.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful, and you love it, but you don’t… I’m not in your dreambox, huh?”

He clearly hasn’t dug through it in awhile. He’s everywhere. Discarded guitar picks and notes he’s left in her school journals and plenty, plenty of songs.

It’s funny, because she told him her dreambox was for things that didn’t make her sad. Luke was a double-edged sword -- making her happy every day in a new way, and making her cry into her pillow at night.

How does she explain this? There’s a whirlwind of responses running through her brain and she can barely coherently comprehend any of them.

“No,” she finds herself sighing as she raises her hand to his cheek, followed by her other hand so that he can’t try and turn away. “No, Luke, no… You’re wrong.”

“What do you mean ‘I’m wrong?’”

Her bottom lip starts to shake. “You think I don’t love you back.” Both of them feel their breath catch at her use of the word out loud. It feels like a secret that shouldn’t be repeated. “And you’re wrong.”

“... I’m wrong.”

“Of course you’re wrong! You really think I don’t love you back?”

“Why are you crying if you love me?”

“Because we can’t do this!”

He scoffs, and Julie’s heart is racing in her chest as he pushes himself off of the piano bench and her hands fall from his face. What has she done?

“That’s bull, Julie.” His fingertips tug at his hair. “You don’t need to make a big dramatic show to convince me it’s wrong just to let me down easy. You aren’t going to talk me out of this.” Dead-on, he stops pacing back and forth, and looks her in the eye. “I love you.”

Listening to him say it, the way his mouth moves and his voice ticks with conviction at each syllable, is what makes her break.

“And I love you too.”

He reels back. He probably wasn’t expecting her voice to raise from their odd, in-between whisper and normal volume.

“But don’t you get it? Luke, we aren't in some magical place where we can meet each other in the middle. A place like that doesn’t exist. You’re dead, and I’m alive, and any future here ends with both of us losing each other.”

“Julie-”

“You said you would wait another lifetime, right?” Using his own lyrics against him. She watches his hands twitch before nodding; the movements of his head barely visible. “Then wait. Another lifetime, another two -- the fucking universe clearly didn’t want us to have this one, so we’re stuck waiting for the next one.”

Even through his clear and fighting need to argue, to talk with her about this, he stiffly nods his head. It’s obvious that she has thought way too much about this from the way she’s barely choking out each word before crumbling into tears before his eyes -- but then again, he’s thought about it too.

Callused hands are running along her neck to tilt her face up out of the blue. She was too busy crying to notice that he had crossed the distance between them to stand right in front of her and assure that she was meeting his eyes.

“Luke-”

“No, Julie, it’s my turn. Please.”

She won’t argue with him. So, with a tender swipe of his thumbs under her eyes, he proceeds.

“Look, I get it. You think I don’t get it? I fucking hate being dead, for so many reasons, Julie. But if I never died, I never would have met you.” Her lips part, and maybe he thinks she’s going to protest because he smoothly lifts a finger in front of her lips that barely makes contact.

(Julie almost presses her lips into it.)

“And you’re right. I wish there was somewhere that we could meet in the middle, but we don’t have that. I wish so many things, Julie. But none of them involve a life where I don’t have you.”

She whimpers, because listening to the man that normally chains his emotions in a cage bare his soul to her at nearly one in the morning is a seriously more out-of-body experience than she expected. She knew, deep down, that she loved him. But she never allowed herself to feel the all-encompassing warmth that she feels now.

“But hey, Julie, look at me,” he coaxes her with a tone that drips with affection. The pads of his fingers are nearly kneading into the back of her neck. “Like you said: The universe didn’t want to give us this lifetime. They couldn’t let us have all the fun, right?” Both of them let out a watery chuckle. “But they still brought me to you, didn’t they? They let me know you in this lifetime, even if we couldn’t have forever. I said I would be yours wherever I am. So even if this,” he gestures to his ghostly form, “isn’t forever, even if we don’t have this lifetime… You know I’ll love you forever, right?”

It was a monologue straight from one of her dreams that left her waking up with a manic smile and tears running down her face.

Unable to form any other response besides an unaware nod, Julie waits for him to continue.

“And maybe, the universe will give us the next lifetime, or a whole new universe, or… Just somewhere where we can get forever.”

Abruptly, his hands slide from her neck and grasp her hands like he needs to hold on firmly enough to believe that she’s still real in front of him. Julie is still speechless and teary, and in the most sentimental gesture, Luke kisses the back of both of her hands.

“We’ll get forever, Julie.” His warm breath puffs against her skin. “I promise you.”

And, well, if he promises forever in the next life -- then why can’t she take what she can get in this one?

tags: @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @lydias--stiles @moreflowersthanweeds @pink-flame

#this will also be posted on ao3 lmao #jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #jukebox #palina #juke fanfic #jatp fanfic

123 notes · View notes

trustsalvatorewriting · 4 years

Text

crush culture || kendall knight - chapter one

Summary: In which Kendall Knight has a crush on a girl who plays the drums at a local cafe

Word Count: 2,356

______________

❝ you make me feel like a teenager in love, you make me feel like i'll be forever young❞

KENDALL GROANED AS HE HEARD A CRASH FROM OUTSIDE HIS BEDROOM, throwing a throw pillow over his head to block out the noises and lights. He'd had to go into the studio yesterday for nearly twelve hours trying to fulfill one of Gustavo's checklists, and about halfway through, he'd started developing a migraine. He'd shrugged it off the night before and tried to sleep it off, but it had somehow gotten worse overnight.

Thankfully, he would have the day off, as he'd managed to get a few harmonies done the day before. He reached toward his navy blue curtains and pulled them over the sunlight leaking in through his window, laying still as he waited for the noise in the apartment to die down.

It was moments like this that he longed for his life in Minnesota. While he was thankful that he'd been given such a privileged life in California, he knew that if he hadn't gone to the auditions with James six months ago, he would've been at the ice rink at the moment, practicing for a hockey scholarship. He wouldn't have learned the meaning of 'stress migraine,' and he definitely wouldn't have had to leave his apartment to get a decent cup of coffee.

When he finally forced himself out of bed, he was met with an empty coffee machine and an empty bag of ground coffee. Kendall all but slammed his head into the kitchen pantry, throwing the bag into the garbage disposal and reaching for his phone. In truth, he wasn't even completely sure where the nearest cafe was, but he remembered his mom mentioning that there was a small one at the hippie grocery store on Rosé.

'God, that's such a Hollywood name,' Kendall thought to himself as he ordered his taxi. Once it confirmed, he quickly changed into a hoodie and jeans, sliding his keys into his back pocket. He headed for the taxi the moment he saw it drive into the parking lot, only giving slight nods to his friends as he rushed to get his coffee.

Thankfully, the driver hadn't tried to start any conversations, allowing him to sit in the backseat in silence. He leaned his head against the window, shutting his eyes as he tried to block out the sunlight. It felt as though direct sunlight would set fire to the back of his eyes.

As the driver pulled into the front of the grocery store, Kendall winced at the slight jerking movement of the vehicle as it came to a halt. He handed a fifty dollar bill to the driver and stepped out, pulling his hoodie over his head as he stared at the oddly hippie grocery store, complete with plants hanging outside the building and a green-painted sign with the name 'Williams' painted in white letters.

Kendall lightly rolled his eyes at the California culture, making his way into the store and heading for the cafe area towards the back. It was a completely different atmosphere from the coffee places and grocery stores they'd had in Minnesota, and while he likely would've figured that out sooner, he'd spent the majority of his time in California stuffed in a recording studio.

As he approached the cafe, he noticed a few bookshelves towards the wall, filled with journals and cooking books, and whatever else California people liked to read. He walked toward the counter and noticed a short girl sitting behind the register, a dazed look on her face as she rhythmically tapped her fingers.

"Uh, hey, could I get a cup of coffee?" Kendall asked, pulling his hoodie off his head. He'd made a slight effort to brush out his hair, but had given up after a while and shoved it ebenath a gray beanie.

The girl snapped out of her thoughts and turned to face him, allowing him to get a view of her name tag: Emory. She smiled happily, soft brown eyes lighting up when she noticed him. "Hi! Welcome to William's Coffee House. What can I get you?"

An involuntary smile came to his face when he heard her voice, but it quickly faded away when his eyes drifted to the menu. He fumbled with his words as he scanned the list of coffees, complete with lattes and espressos -- and what the hell was a macchiato? Kendall rubbed the back of his neck, confusion painted across his ivory features. "Uh... the coffee... kind?"

Emory bit back a laugh and went through the buttons on the register. "I'll just get you a small black coffee, and you can add cream and sugar if you want."

"Thank you," He sighed. He reached to grab a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, but she pushed his hand away quickly. Kendall looked u, dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Don't even worry about it. It's on the house," She explained lightly, standing to go prepare his coffee. "You look like you've had a rough day."

"Is it that obvious?" Kendall questioned, tugging at the edges of his beanie so they covered his temples. They felt like they were going to explode.

She hesitated, reaching out to hand his coffee cup to him. She pursed her lips together, as if she were searching for the best words to tell him that he looked like he just crawled out from the garbage disposal. Emory winced at her own words as she said, "You're still cute."

Kendall might've blushed if it weren't for the tightening feeling on the right side of his head.

As he reached up to press his palms against his eyes, Emory questioned, "Do you have a migraine? I have Excedrin in my bag, if you want some. They're not crazy drugs or whatever."

"Excedrin?" He pulled his hands away from his eyes to find her holding out a small bottle of acetaminophen. She smiled lightly and placed it next to her coffee. "Thanks."

"No problem. I carry them around 'cause my brother and I get migraines a lot. One or two should be good depending on how bad it is," Emory advised. Kendall ignored her and shook three pills out of the bottle. "I mean, or you could do that."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile as he went to take the three excedrins and swallow them down with the hot coffee. He winced at the taste, setting it down.

"Didn't you say you wanted cream and sugar?" Emory questioned, pointing at the cup.

Kendall deadpanned at the sight of the cream and sugar, throwing his hand onto the desk. Emory giggled and took the cup from him, shaking in a little bit of each ingredient. Her laugh was high-pitched, similar to a cartoon character's. He lifted his head slightly. "Cute laugh."

Emory dropped the sugar packet into the cup. Her eyes widened and she quickly began preparing another cup. "I'm Emory."

"Kendall," He responded. "That's a... unique name."

"Thanks," She chuckled. "My Pops chose it. It's supposed to mean 'brave' or 'powerful' or something. I'm neither of those, which is why I'm working in a nearly empty café at eleven in the morning on a Friday."

"Three-day weekend," Kendall shrugged and took the cup from her. He smiled, his migraine already beginning to fade away.

She nodded and sat down in a stool behind the counter. Emory didn't have the nerve to tell him that her dads had named her other siblings 'Silas' and 'Andromeda.' She also didn't have the energy to explain that her dads had given her one mental health day per quarter, and she'd used it today so she could skip out on volleyball. She was only 5'2" which made serving the ball practically impossible.

For some reason, she'd wanted to impress him. She wasn't quite sure how to do that while she was sitting in a coffee apron, at the back of a grocery store, though. He was genuinely attractive -- the kind that you found on the cover of magazines and billboards. Complete with dirty blonde bangs, deep green eyes, and dimples. As dramatic as it sounded, Emory swore he would be the death of her.

Kendall stole glances at her as she cleaned up the suddenly messy counter, and pretended not to notice when she glanced back. He hadn't been able to meet a lot of people in Hollywood -- at least, no one outside of the Palm Woods. Gustavo and Kelly had kept him under lock and key in the studio. It had been somewhat justified, of course, considering they were working on an album; but there were times where he missed working at the grocery store in Minnesota. Times where he would've preferred to be playing hockey with his friends, as opposed to learning the same dance moves over and over again.

God, he felt privileged.

"So, skipping out on school, pretty boy?" Emory had said it without even glancing up, but he could hear the smile in her words.

"No, I, uh, have an off-day today," Kendall responded awkwardly. He wasn't sure how to explain that he'd completely forgotten about the essay he had to turn on by three o'clock today. "What about you?"

"My dads let me take the day off," Emory explained. She caught her words immediately and winced, waiting for the backlash or questions she would inevitably receive. Even in California, the LGBT capital of the world, there were somehow always questions.

"Dads, huh? What are their names?"

"Johan and Gerard," She said hesitantly. He would ask about her siblings now, or whether her mom had died, or where she was adopted from. She held her breath.

"That's cool."

'What the fuck?'

"Yeah, they're pretty great," Emory agreed, slightly confused but overall relieved by his reaction. He only gave her a calm look, implying that he was generally unbothered by the topic. She nodded in approval. "So, tell me about yourself, pretty boy."

"What do you wanna know?" Kendall asked, leaning back in his chair. "I'm from Minnesota; I really love hockey and music; and me and my sister Katie were raised by a single mom."

"What do you mean by 'you love music?'" Emory squinted her eyes lightly and sat down in the seat across from him, leaning forward. "Do you, like, play any instruments or are you one of those guys that listens to music and says they love it so they look really cool and pretentious?"

"I'm in a band with my best friends. I think I'm pretty into music," Kendall chuckled. "I play, like, the smallest amount of guitar; but I mostly sing."

"It's not a band of none of you play the instruments," Emory was quick to point out. "I'm in a small band with my foster sister, Evie. I play drums."

"You play drums?" Kendall snickered. "And that's not fair. We're mostly singers."

"Then you're a group, not a band," She shot back. "Yeah, I play drums. Is that hard to believe?"

"You're just so tiny," Kendall laughed. "I couldn't imagine that."

"Ever hears the phrase 'you're lucky you're cute?'" Emory questioned, to sing a sugar packet in his general direction. It hit the side of his flannel jacket, and she sighed internally. He was kind of making her eyes hurt at this point. She mentally went over all the reasons that it would be completely unethical for her to ask for his number, then all of the reasons that she would regret not asking for his number.

Unfortunately, she wasn't given the time to come to a balanced conclusion. Kendall's phone rang and he took it out of his pocket, sending Emory an apologetic look as he did so. The moment he answered it, his mood seemed to falter, and by the end of the call he'd practically slammed his head against the wooden counter.

"Uh, are you okay?" Emory questioned, lightly poking his shoulder as he hung up his phone.

"Nope. My producer is calling me into work today, after he promised me the day off yesterday!" He raised his voice and yelled at his phone, despite the fact that the caller had hung up already. He peeked at Emory from between his fingers. "I probably look really weird right now."

Emory nodded, her nose crinkling as she smiled down at him. "You do."

Kendall sighed and lifted his head, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looked at Emory. "I should probably..."

"Yeah. I wouldn't want you to get fired or anything. A face like that deserves to have screaming girls chasing after it," Emory said. She regretted her words immediately, questioning whether she'd spoken proper English just then.

If Kendall noticed, he chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he went to stand and took a few paces away from the café. "I'll uh... I'll see you around?"

'Ask for his number. Ask for his number. Ask for his number.'

"Uh, yeah! You should visit again. I'll give you a discount on your coffee next time," Emory responded with a smile.

"Yeah, I will. Uh... thanks, Emmy," Kendall nodded at her, before his phone went off in his pocket again. He groaned and pulled it out, practically yelling into the phone. "I'm coming!"

Once he was out of sight, Emory groaned and laid her head down on the counter, covering her blushing face. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Gerard, who was covered in flour and baking ingredients.

She sighed. "How much of that did you see?"

Gerard rubbed his daughter's back comfortingly. "You'll get better eventually, Emmy."

Emory deadpanned, letting out a sigh. The next time she would see him was on the cover of a magazine, being proclaimed the new teen heartthrob.

If she knew she would get Silas' flirting skills by spending so much time around him, she might've tried to get him kicked out of the house sooner.

422 notes · View notes

aesthetical-bucky · 4 years

Text

Three’s A Lucky Number

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: You’ve sabotaged Bucky’s dates three times, but what happens when the super soldier finally confronts you about it?

Requested by @hailmary-yramliah - Hey! So I love the fic Hungry Heart and wanted to request again since you're an amazing writer! XD Could you do a BuckyxReader where the reader is jealous of Bucky's date because she has a crush on him and he's oblivious? Maybe he finds out when the reader sabotages his date and he confronts her? Or you could go a whole different route hehe thanks in advance! ❤️

Warnings: Language, sex toy play (at the end), implied smut, a smidgen of confrontation in a confined space. If I’ve missed anything, please let me know!

Word Count: 2,220 (oopsies)

Authors Notes: This was requested by the lovely @hailmary-yramliah and I’m sorry because I got so carried away with it but it just wrote itself? Hehe! Hope you enjoy reading :)

If looks could kill, the blonde-haired bitch Bucky invited over would certainly be dead by now. You were sat next to Steve when Bucky walked in with her hanging off his arm as they sat on the opposite couch. Truthfully, you didn’t understand why she was here and if you were honest, you didn’t want her here. His date had spent the entire day at the compound, mingling with the others and trying to fit herself in and they had reservations for dinner in an hour at some fancy top restaurant. You hated it and you knew jealousy was an ugly look, but at this point, you couldn’t care less. “Oh, is this Chloe?” You smirked pointing to the lady. Bucky’s eyebrows creased as he tried to figure out what you were up to.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Bucky seethed, giving you a warning look which you blatantly ignored.

“Who is Chloe?” The dragon with the voice whispered, her hand grazing his thigh and it was making your blood boil.

“Some girl he brought here last night to fuck. No big deal.” You shrugged nonchalantly, earning a warning nudge from Steve.

“Y/N, Come on.”

“It’s true and then the night before that he brought home that… uhhh what’s her name…” You clicked your fingers and smirked as you continued. “Fiona from statistics!”

“Y/N!” Bucky warned. Your eyes flicked over to hers and grinned. She was shifting uncomfortably in her seat and scoots away from Bucky, something he easily notices. “I’m so sorry Jess. I don’t know what her problem is.” Bucky scoffed, interlacing his fingers with hers. A lump formed in your throat at their hands, your anger and frustration building up.

You harboured a crush on the soldier pretty much since the day you arrived in the tower and officially became an Avenger. But you knew he was out of your league but it didn’t stop you from trying. Bucky had reservations for the type of women he dated, the same type that was sat opposite you right now biting her lip like the seductive horny bitch she is.

And sometimes you felt really angry towards Bucky because that bastard was so oblivious to your attempts. You even told him he looked like sex on legs when he strolled through the kitchen in his sweats and that tattered old henley of his. His hair dishevelled and sticking up so high you could probably pick up a clear WiFi connection. His response? He just told you to be quiet. It broke your heart every time, your crush was turning into feelings and you wanted nothing more than to protect him from all the other single women in the world. You wanted him to be yours, not hers.

You watch as he whispered something in her ear. A blush forming on her cheeks as she twirled her curly hair around her finger. A loud pitched laugh invaded your ears. Anger boiled up when you saw the blonde-haired bitch throwing her head back, Bucky eyeballing her exposed throat.

Bucky was driving you crazy and he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.

“Fuck sake.” You cursed with an eye-roll. Though your eyes widened when you realised you just said that out loud, but at least the bitch stopped laughing.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Tony smirked when he sauntered in the room adjusting his bracelet. Tony was probably one of the few who knew of your love for the soldier. It was hard to deny it when he found your journal full of desires and inner feelings for Mr Barnes. You made the mistake of writing a dream you had in the journal, a dream where you became Bucky’s wife and bearing his children. Tony hasn’t stopped bringing that up ever since and you hoped he wouldn’t now. “Is your husband annoying you?” He cackled.

Fuck

“Don’t encourage her Tony.” Steve interfered.

Wait, did Steve know about it too?

“Y/N, come with me please,” Steve ordered, walking into the kitchen and pouring a couple of glasses of wine.

“Please don’t lecture me, Steve.” You sighed.

“Was those lies really necessary? You know about Bucky’s past Y/N. You should be happy for him so why on earth are you trying to sabotage his third date this week?” He demanded in his ‘Captain’ voice.

It was true, you knew Bucky wasn’t actually sleeping with anyone because he wasn’t that type of man. But when he brings different girls to the compound, you knew it was only a matter of time before he took a dip in their manhole.

I’d be happy with him. God, if only you knew Steve.

“Now please take this glass of wine to Jess and apologise. It’s not a request.”

“Fine.” You mumbled, taking the glass from his hand and reluctantly going over to them. Bucky watched you with careful eyes and as you neared Jess, you pretended to trip over your feet, sending the full glass of wine down her white dress.

“Oops.” You shrugged with a grin as she desperately patted down her dress.

“Oh my GOD! BUCKY! Your friend is a fucking lunatic!” She screamed and Bucky growled and you took it as your cue to leave the room. Only to have a large metal hand wrap around your wrist and march you both out of the room.

You were stumbling hopelessly behind Bucky towards the elevator, his fast walk pace was impossible for you to keep up with.

“Buck! Slow down!” You hissed as his grip tightened. Bucky repeatedly pressed the elevator button and more-or-less threw you inside once the doors eventually opened, you backed away from him when he stood in front of the buttons, again repeatedly punching his floor number.

“FRIDAY, shut the fucking doors!” Bucky snarled, clenching his hands into fists and breathing heavily.

You stood there on the other side of the elevator nursing your bruising and sore wrist as Bucky stared straight ahead with his arms folded over his large chest. He almost looked identical to a dragon, minus the smoke flailing out from his nostrils and the tips of his ear turning a bright red. You knew you were gonna be in for it just by the thunderous look on his face.

The elevator ride to his floor was intense, to say the least. The quiet hum of the elevator, the heavy breathing and the tension surrounding you was so thick it was scary, almost like a severe gas leak, you’d just need one little naked flame to make an explosion. You almost couldn’t stand it.

You turned to face Bucky and sighed. “Buck, I’m really sor-” you flinched when his large hand suddenly moved towards the big red STOP letters above the numbers and he punched it. The elevator came to a halt and now you didn’t know what to expect.

Bucky faced you, then stalked slowly towards you, prompting you to take a step back until your back was flushed against the wall.

“Why are you sorry, Y/N? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much that you took it upon yourself to ruin any chance of happiness?” Bucky seethed, his steps not faltering. “I want to know, what did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I upset you? WHAT DID I DO?!” He growled and your eyes screwed shut, your body tensing from his tone. His flesh fingers gently held your chin. “Look at me, Y/N.” Your eyes opened, his anger replaced by confusion. “Please tell me what I did.”

You felt guilty and you knew Bucky could see the guilt whirling around in your irises. “Nothing,” you whispered under your breath with a shake of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you, Y/N. Didn’t you once have a dream about me? About being my wife and having my beautiful children?” The corners of his lips lifted into a sly smirk. Your eyes widened to the size of planets.

“How did you KNOW about that?!” You cringed.

“I may or may not have stumbled across your little journal. Mrs Barnes.” He chuckled, but not in a tormenting way. Bucky wasn’t teasing you, he was just actually quite flattered. “Why did you keep your feelings from me for so long huh? We could have been married and having our babies right about now.” He smirked. “Tell me doll, did you think about us making those babies, hmm?”

And really, you wished for Hell at this point to just open up and take you. This was a nightmare, the one person who definitely wasn’t supposed to read that journal, did. And you had an intuition that Tony may have had something to do with it.

Bucky dipped his head downwards. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fanning against your lips.

“I’m so embarrassed right now.” You mumbled

“I’m actually really flattered but I wished you would have told me sooner because I have been going out of my mind over my feelings for you.” His usual ocean blue eyes are a darker shade. You can feel his heartbeat under the palm of your hand. “Do you still want me?” He asked and your eyes are drawn to his plump pink lips. With no words spoken, your hands wrapped around his neck and crashed his lips to yours in a heated passion. Bucky’s hands slithered down to your waist and behind your thighs, giving them a gentle but firm pinch silently asking you to jump. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your tongues and teeth clashed against one another.

“FRIDAY, my room!” Bucky panted against your lips. His hard member feeling so constricted in his pants.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY responded and the elevator started moving once again.

Once the doors to Bucky’s floor opened. He carried you down the hall, your lips attacking his neck on the way. Bucky kicked the door open with his heavy combat boot and stumbled inside, kicking it shut harder than necessary. Bucky stumbled over to the bed and threw you down. You giggled when you bounced and saw the hungry look in his eyes.

“FRIDAY, lock my door and alert the team that Y/N and I are busy for a couple of days.” He ordered and the AI beeped in acknowledgement.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” The AI responded. Leaving you and Bucky in total silence once again.

“Now then.” Bucky taunted, removing his Henley and kicking his boots off. “I believe a certain someone sabotaged not one, not two but three of my dates.” He tutted with a shake of his head.

You brought a finger up to your lips and pleaded with doe eyes. Knowing full well it wasn’t going to help you in this situation.

“Three dates. Three possible relationships ruined. I think you need three different kinds of punishment, doll.” He smirked, pulling a few items out from his bedside table drawers. Your eyes widened when you realised they were, in fact, sex toys. And you didn’t entertain the idea of those being used on you when they could have been used for the other women in this very room.

“Buck- no I don-”

Just as though Bucky can read you like a book, he interrupts. “They’re brand new, doll. See? Still in the packaging. I haven’t even slept with anyone.” He reassured. “But you already knew that. So tell me, do you want this Y/N? Do you want me?” He asks for a second time.

“I do.” You answer with a nod.

“Ah, preparing for our big day huh?” He chuckled, tearing the plastic off with a simple flick of his wrist, inserting the batteries to the rabbit. Bucky presses the buttons to make sure it’s working and a wide Cheshire cat grin grows. “Perfect.” He throws it down on the bed and his fingers work on the button of your jeans and zipper and swiftly pulling the tight material along with your soaked underwear down your legs and throwing them somewhere across the room.

Bucky lubes the shaft of the vibrator with a generous amount so you don’t feel any pulling. He grins as he gently pushed the plastic toy inside. The rabbit ears snugged against your clit as Bucky works through the first vibration. He grins, laying down on his stomach with his knee slightly bent, working through the different vibration sensations, sending you into a whole new dimension of pleasure. And if that wasn’t enough, he pressed the rotary button so the shaft wiggled around inside of you, occasionally touching your G-spot.

Bucky set the vibration on the highest setting and your toes curled into his comforter as you neared your orgasm. And you were almost there when he suddenly shut the rabbit off completely.

“Bucky!” You whined, which earned you an eye roll as he disregarded the toy. His breath hitched when your juices ran freely from your entrance. Bucky pulled you up to your feet and he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. He motioned to his lap and you went to straddle him but he shook his head.

“Lay across my lap.” He ordered and you complied. “Second punishment, I hope you’re ready, Y/N. You’re in for a long few days.”

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @criminal-cookies @nano--raptor @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @the-wayward-robot @littleredstarfish @becs-bunker @evanstanwrites

145 notes · View notes

anistarrose · 4 years

Text

Some Sunny Day Bonus Chapter 3: Seen and Unseen

AO3

Summary: A grove of birch trees on a familiar hill, an encounter in the woods that goes terribly wrong, and two memory guns.

Characters: Stan Pines, Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Blind Ivan

Been a while, huh? I was planning to celebrate the anniversary of finishing this fic with two bonus chapters just stuffed chock full of hurt/comfort, but then life happened (I got a part-time job and also mild insomnia, you know how it is) so enjoy some prequel angst instead! This one is canon to SSD and set in early 1982, shortly after the portal incident.

***

After a scare with frostbite in late February, Stan sets out at the first sign of melting snow to resume his search for the journals. A snowdrift had blocked several trails behind the house last week, but now they’re passable — so long as you don’t mind the overcast weather, and being up to your heels in mud.

Stan had enjoyed hunting for fake treasure and following Ford’s cryptic clues when they would pretend to be adventurers as kids — he’d been good at it, even. But this time, Ford has left him no hand-drawn treasure maps or whimsical riddles — only more ominous clues, like a ransacked, now empty medicine cabinet, or a ripped out journal page about being watched with X-ed out triangles drawn in all the margins. Clues that make Stan feel like throwing up, because they should mean something to him, but he just can’t bring himself to think it through and face the inevitable conclusion.

This is all my fault.

He stumbles to a halt at the foot of a hill, and realizes he’s surrounded by birch trees. He’s surrounded by eyes that never blink — or maybe, he thinks, before he can tell himself he’s going crazy, eyes that only blink when I’m blinking.

The birch trees don’t scare him the way the rest of the forest does — he’s not afraid of some creature or cryptid sneaking up on him here, where the forest is so deathly silent and he’s left all alone with himself. They don’t scare him the way the town does, either — despite everything, he feels less watched here, where there are no strangers shooting him suspicious glares or cloaked figures vanishing around corners and into the shadows.

No, the birch trees set Stan on edge because whenever he sees them — makes eye contact with them? — he knows he’s forgetting something. It’s something important, something horrible, something dangerous — like the fear of having left the stove on, except multiplied by a million. Disaster is impending, and he’s the one to blame.

This is where I belong.

He hates this place, but he’s come this far, so he can’t leave without giving the eerie birch grove a proper search. He doubts that Ford, at the height of his paranoia, would hide a journal on a hill where even the trees could watch him — but if Stan leaves now, and can’t find the journal anywhere else in the valley, he knows he’ll have to revisit this place eventually. He doesn’t ever want to revisit this unpleasant memory again, if he can avoid it.

Setting out to leave no stone unturned, he finds there are few stones on the hill to turn in the first place. There are few hiding places of any sort, nor any signs of recent digging. Stan suddenly regrets throwing out his metal detector all those years ago, and wonders if the other journals have enough brass in them to give a signal —

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up before he realizes why. He knows someone’s coming before he hears the snap of twigs or the hushed voices, the murmur of “look at the footprints, he came this way.”

They’re coming from the direction of his — Ford’s house. They must’ve followed him — or as they believed it, followed Ford out here for a reason.

“Who’s there?” Stan shouts, cringing as he hears how hoarse his voice is. His impression of Ford improves as he adds, “What brings you out here?”

“We could ask the same of you, Dr. Pines,” a deep voice booms as two figures in hooded red robes step into view, one more hesitantly than the other. They both wield identical, uncomfortably gun-shaped contraptions. “Still haven’t given up on your project, have you?”

If these cultists, or assassins, or whatever the hell they are know anything about Ford, then Stan needs to know it too. He takes a measured risk.

“I have a lot of projects. You’ll have to be more specific —”

“Ya know what we mean, Stanford.” It’s the second robed figure who speaks up, the one who’d lagged behind his deep-voiced co-conspirator, and the Southern accent throws Stan for a loop. His words suggest some kind of threat, but his gun-toting arm hangs limp at his side. “I — I didn’t want to do this, I really didn’t — but you’re becomin’ a danger, Ford, a danger to yourself and to everyone. And we — we’re here to stop you.”

“Wait!” Stan holds up his hands, dropping his Ford impression. “You’ve got this all wrong! Ford’s not dangerous, he’s in danger and I’m trying to —”

“Enough excuses!” the first figure barks, raising his gun. “IT IS UNSEEN!”

Blue light beams out of the contraption’s bulb, and Stan instinctively raises a hand to shield himself — but the light bends in midair, as if refracted by an invisible prism. It illuminates the clearing like a flash of lightning, but misses Stan by a mile.

“I told you to wait,” he whispers. He understands nothing about the bending of the light, yet somehow, could not be more certain that he alone had caused it.

“Ford?” the second figure asks, no longer sounding hesitant nor conflicted. There’s only one emotion in that voice, and it’s fear.

His companion, on the other hand, aims again without a word — and the light soars over Stan’s head as he falls to his knees, numb to the pain of the impact. Numb to everything except one thought, one single truth, easier to face than any sort of self-reflection on the power he held.

They think I’m Ford. They tried to hurt Ford. They tried to hurt Ford. They tried to —

He makes a fist with his right hand, and he sees the scene through a hundred new perspectives as sickly yellow eyes blink to life on every birch tree. He makes a fist with his left hand, and the forest comes alive.

The robed figures trip over gnarled roots, one of them even dropping his gun, but the trees continue to animate, trunks bending over and bare branches wrapping themselves around limbs. A wind whips through the grove as the cultists flail, begging as they make eye contact — not with the arboreal limbs ensnaring them, but with Stan’s body itself.

And Stan watches in both complete control, and complete disbelief of it all.

There’s a pressure against his skull, a dam about to burst after holding the flood of memories back for too long. There are leaks already, trickles of information and sparks of blue fire that chill him to his core, as images flash through his mind without coming from the birch trees, or even from his own lifetime.

Ford’s not the dangerous one. I am.

Ford’s the one who’s in danger.

Because of me.

The birches loosen their grip on the cultists, who flee the second they can shake themselves free. Stan’s left alone again, staring himself down with his hundred yellow eyes, and he can see guilt in every one of them.

He rises to a standing position, roots winding around his boots and bark creeping up his mud-soaked pants. He can’t face the world, he can’t face Ford, he can’t face himself knowing what he’s capable of, knowing that he’s the worst of all the monsters lurking in the woods —

As the trees of the grove reshape their roots and the ground shakes from the strain, the dropped gun bounces towards Stan’s feet.

It is unseen, he remembers one of the figures shouting.

He picks it up, inputs birch trees, and holds it to his head as he closes as many of his eyes as he can. Fire burns away his memories, and a deluge of ink-black water rushes in to absorb the ashes and fill their place.

***

Fiddleford McGucket runs for dear life with Ivan hot on his heels, until they reach the museum and barricade themselves inside an empty room, bracing themselves for pursuit. When it doesn’t come, Fiddleford enters a name into the memory gun, starting over several times after his trembling fingers betray him.

“Just — just another monster to erase,” Ivan stammers, “with a more human name than most.”

Fiddleford finally gets the spelling right. Two flashes of light with the input screen reading Stanford Pines, and memories of the day’s encounter — and then some — go up in flames.

It is unseen.

***

Stan is kneeling at the muddy base of an even muddier hill, surrounded by trees that look like they’re staring at him.

Or maybe, eyes that only blink when I’m — never mind. That’s ridiculous.

On the ground in front of him is a strange kind of gun, with a lightbulb in place of the barrel. He thinks he’s glimpsed some robed, vaguely cult-looking types carrying these around in town before, so after staggering to his feet, he smashes the device beneath his boot.

He has a feeling he’s forgetting something important again, but he can’t be bothered to try and remember again. He can’t bear to think about it any longer.

***

End notes:

This hill with the birch trees is the same one where Ford took a nap and first met Bill, so needless to say, Stan’s gut instinct about Ford not hiding any journals in a place like this was dead-on.

I have a lot more bonus content planned for this series, like the two-parter I alluded to in the earlier notes, but I’ve got no idea when any of that’s coming aside from a cautiously optimistic estimate of “later in 2020.” Once again, I’m so grateful for all the support you guys have given this fic from the beginning just over two years ago, to the “ending” exactly one year ago, all the way up through today :’)

#gravity falls #same coin theory #stanley pines #bill cipher #fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #blind ivan #fic: some sunny day #rosalia writes fic

33 notes · View notes

abizarreyodelingincident · 4 years

Text

(LU) Ridiculous Optimization: The Art of Finding the Right Tool for the Wrong Situation

Chapter one: They're big pots, really

Wild's Hyrule was, for lack of a better word, a pain.

Now, if you were Warriors, who regularly tangled with nobles and their ilks as part of his duties, you might describe it as 'a temporary yet persistent sort of agony, so scandalous, good sirs and ladies'. Or, if you were Sky, who serenaded his Zelda with loving devotion, the description might resemble 'a land broken but resisting, a primal kingdom for the ambitious to remake'.

But the average Link was neither, and the general sentiment came out as 'Wild's Hyrule is a giant pain'. (One should recall that both Legend and Wind existed in the general sample and drastically lowered the ability to describe Wild's Hyrule in polite company.)

The weather conditions were, all in all, quite tolerable outside of the occasional lightning storms which threatened to violently roast them all (Time especially). Wild's one recurring grip being the rain making it impossible to climb cliff sides and barely-standing-towers – which, in all honesty, had become Twilight's favorite weather for this exact same reason.

The few tribes of monsters could provoke violent swearing, in good part after the Links had assimilated the color system that ruled Wild's Hyrule. (Four could never look at golden monsters the same way now.) No, no, a Link knew to adapt to their circumstances and would learn all the right tricks to fighting any sort of monster that showed up in his path.

In fact, Time had gone on record to say that he'd gone on an adventure in a much more stressful kingdom, because at least the moon was only red and not looming.

The real challenge was so many of his enemies being outright mini-bosses at least. Wind's Hero's Charm had confirmed their health being far superior to the average roaming monster, and, to the general disbelief, added that no, Lynels did not count as minibosses for some goddesses-forsaken reason.

“That's three!” Warriors called out, slashing away at one twisting limbs. “One to go!”

“Get down!” Hyrule shouted just in time for Warriors to duck under a blue-ish laser.

The two heroes felt air woosh over their backs, cold and sharp despite the explosion that ravaged a rock formation down the hill. Despite the sheer damage done, none of them gave the ruins even a passing glance. Normally, some Link like Four would wonder out loud about the marvels of technology that had led to the creations of robots as powerful as the Guardians. That would, unjustly, earn him a slap upside the head from the others who just wanted them all exterminated.

But, if anything, their mechanical structure should be glorified, as unlike almost every other enemies the Links met in their travels, the Guardians could not be further enhanced by black blood.

No, the Guardians were a special pain in the Links' anatomies all on their own.

Legend had already written down the tirade he reserved for the Sheika elders that had thought beamos weren't mobile and powerful enough in his journal. One day, he would travel to the past of Wild's Hyrule and give them all the dressing down they deserved and it would be beautiful.

Three grappling hooks latched onto the last Guardian's limbs just in time to stop it from running over the downed Warriors and Hyrule. Now, against, say, a Lynel or an Hinox, pulling such a maneuver might have given the monster pause, but the Guardian's head merely rotated and aimed its tracking light at Time.

He alongside Twilight and Sky dispersed to avoid the lightning quick retaliation and even then, Sky felt the flames lick at his heels.

Rolling away, he ended up in a huddle close with Legend and Four, behind a large, mossy rock. "You know," Sky said, nervously chatting instead of saving his breath, "they kind of remind me of pots."

Legend's eyes twitched. “Ah, yes, they're tougher than most of my bosses, faster too, shoot laser beams, but they are a little round-ish. I see the resemblance.”

"Oh!" Four exclaimed, thunderstruck. "I've got it! Cover me," he shouted to the others.

Without even a moment's consultation, Wind and Wild both rushed out of their hiding spots and pelted the Guardian with bombs, their supplies of arrows depleted during the ambush. It only made the Guardian's base tilt slightly, though, a few seconds were all Four really needed. His hands found the handle of the cane with the ease of many adventures' worth of practice.

Not a second too soon either, for one of the Guardian's limbs had snaked through the barrage and swept Wind aside. And now threatened to grab the little rolling pirate.

Four swung the twisted branch. A staff, Wild realized as a glittering ball of energy flew off its head and struck the guardian head on. For a split second, he allowed himself to hope that it would have a bit of an effect on the thing. He'd seen (schemed for, though he never admitted it to Twilight) a Guardian struck by lightning before, and it had shrugged it off as easily as a breeze. Those things just wouldn't-

The Guardian flipped over.

Wind's shocked cursing translated the general gobsmacked bafflement of the eight heroes over five feet tall.

The Guardian landed on its head, its top carvings digging into the soil. The legs frantically expanded to try and right it, but could find no purchase. Their articulations had not been created to allow the legs to reach the head area. Combining those facts effectively condemned the feared contraction to reenact a flipped turtle's dying moments, with half the dignity.

Wild staggered backward into Time's waiting arms. “Wh-what, I don't… how?”

“Magic,” Time replied with the air of a wise old man, “you never know what kind of stuff it can do. Also,” he cleared his throat and spoke louder, “watch out for the laser beam, boys."

Hyrule and Wind flinched back from the upside down Guardian, like kids with their hands down the cookie jar. The eye turned from blue to red.

"It only shoots in a straight line," Wild said, recovering from his shock.

The dreaded red dot stuttered in place, stuck in a very narrow margin.

“Yeah, but can't it turn its head?” Hyrule asked hesitantly, not looking away from the dot.

They distinctively heard the noise of some gears inside the thing turning, like a low-humming buzz of energy. Where the head met the body, the whirring flashed in rapid succession.

The head remained unmoving.

The other half of the guardian span.

“It's going to start flying now,” Wind said with clear apprehension.

Twilight nodded to that. The motion was eerily similar to a mad peahat preparing to soar the skies.

Legend shot them both an annoyed look. “With those legs?”

“It's a Guardian!” Wind protested. “They don't just fucking flip over and die?”

As if to punctuate the point, the Guardian's beam shot out of its frantically beeping eye. And, as if to immediately contradict itself, the beam missed them all by a mile, roughly, though it did strike on a stray lizalfos.

“Huh, didn't notice that one,” Warriors mumbled, as Legend burst out laughing at the madness of it all. “What kind of item is that anyway?”

Four gave the twig a twirl. "The Cane of Pacci. It flips things over."

Legend scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "What kind of wizards gives their name to a staff that's good for flipping things over? I know magic-users can be lazy bastards, but that's a bit much, even for me."

Four shrugged, unfazed. "Who knows? It came in handy surprisingly often. Case in point," he waved an arm toward the flipped guardian.

A shrieking noise caught them off-guard, momentarily.

Wind had lodged a giant broadsword in the guardian's eye up to its hilt. The whirring machinery slowed, smoke leaking out of its gears and plates. If it hadn't been made completely helpless before, it certainly was now. Warrior looked inordinately fond of their young and bloodthirsty pirate for finishing off a helpless killing machine.

“Four,” Wild said, his face frozen in the most serious expression any of them (except Twilight) had ever seen.

“W-what?” Four replied, startled by the hands grabbing his shoulders.

“Name your price. Do you want rupees?” Wild asked, pulling out his slate. “Because I will bury you under more rupees than you've ever seen before.”

“Anyone else feels like that came out vaguely threatening?” Hyrule pondered.

“Vaguely?” Legend snarked, prompting Twilight to facepalm.

Wild apparently heard nothing but the silence Four was shoving his way. His voice hiked up in pitch. “Armor? I've got more sets of armors than I know what to do with them? Ancient Sheika armor? It's super mechanical, you like mechanisms, right?”

Four raised an eyebrow. “I like understanding how they work. Can you imagine me wearing your stuff? I would have trouble moving.”

“My recipe book?” Wild tried again, desperation creeping in his voice. “It's not written yet, but I can do that. Four, please?”

Twilight gasped. Hyrule's stomach loudly growled. And the rest nodded sagely. Wild truly was pulling out all the stops to get his hands on that cane, besides outright theft (which none of them were exactly strangers to).

“… No.”

The fingers let go of his shoulders, now aching from the grip.

“I thought we were brothers,” Wild whispered, leaning against Twilight for support. “Backstabbed like nothing.”

“I do actually need that item, you know?” Four replied, halfway between amused and annoyed.

"Alright, boys, no fighting," Time announced, his mouth struggling not to stretch into a smirk, "and new strategy. If we run into a guardian, we let Four handle it. All in favor?"

The surge of agreement ranged from 'mildly sorry' (Sky) to 'gleeful' (Legend, of course, and Wild).

"Oh come on!"

BONUS:

The eight Links stared at the Guardian stumbling over the fields of Wild's Hyrule whilst Twilight mimed around like a drunk puppeteer. Wind's pictograph was out and flashing the moment the herd of bokoblins shrieked in panic and fled for their lives from the clearly malfunctioning monstrosity. Wild's Sheika Slate had been given to Hyrule for the task of recording the moments whilst he mourned yet another way the Goddesses had seen fit not to help him fight off Guardians.

“Anyone else feels a little sorry for them?” Sky asked, scratching his head as the camp was bulldozed through.

“Not as such, no,” Hyrule replied without skipping a beat. He might also have a few bruises on his shoulder from their last encounter.

“How do you laser with this thing?” Twilight grumbled, face scrunched up in concentration.

“Pfft, it had to be the bumpkins that gets the power to control ancient automatons,” Legend snarked, his hat still fuming from where he had dodged the Guardian's first beam.

In the distance, the bokoblins suddenly exploded.

“Ah, unbridled rage,” Twilight deadpanned. “That'll do.”

The Links carefully took a step back. And didn't get closer until Twilight had driven the Guardian off a cliff. You never knew with the quiet ones. The second the possession was over, however, Wild broke through the ranks with a determined look, opened his mouth-

And Twilight beat him to the punch. “Your recipe book.”

“Deal.”

“YES!”

“Wait,” Four called, narrowly avoiding the death glare Wild sent him, “are you sure you won't need it when this is over.”

Twilight shrugged. “I mean, I've used it all of once after I finished the dungeon with it? My Hyrule's not exactly big on statues and contraptions to magically possess. Good food though? Not like I'll ever stop having to need that.”

“Spoken like a true bumpkin.”

Poor Legend never saw Wild leap through the air with the righteous fury of an avenging angel to defend the honor of his mentor, the best man he ever met and the soon-to-be recipient of a great deal of cakes.

NOTE:

The thought process went like this:

Tumblr post noting that Guardians look like an ancient pottery art from thousands of years ago. TLDR: The Guardians are Elder Pots awakened to take revenge on all the Links for their fallen brethren.

Guardians can't touch Link if he climbs on their head.

Minish Cap includes an item that flips pots over (to open minish gates, but shh, who cares?)

Ergo, Four can one-shot guardians.

Twilight's just there, because I took pity on Wild and the Dominion Rod is absolutely useless after its dungeon. Not like Twilight would miss it.

#Linked Universe #Linkeduniverse #Fun with magic items #RO:ART

136 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 4 years

Text

Sincerely, Geralt

Fandom: Witcher (games)

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Geralt/Regis pre-slash

Word Count: 992

Summary: After Regis makes a hasty retreat from Toussaint in order to follow Dettlaff, Geralt leaves a letter for him at Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery

A/N: A little drabble I wanted to get out of my system following B&W. So many loose ends to clean up... Enjoy!

Regis,

Not sure if you ever planned to come back to this crypt of yours but I thought I’d leave a note in case you did. If you’re not Regis you should know that this paper has been sprayed with a cockatrice venom distillate. It won’t kill you, but touching the paper any more than you already have will result in a rash that’s going to be a devil of a time to get rid of. Venom’s airborne too, so unless you’ve got the eyesight of a matagot you’re going to develop an equally fucked up cough by sticking close enough to read this. Just put it down. Go back where you came from.

Right, hope it’s just you now. (Don’t need to explain why you’re immune, huh? Could probably give me a whole damn lecture about it...) Before you start panicking all your precious books are safe. They’re at Corvo Bianco. Figured you’d prefer they didn’t mildew if the roof ever leaked. Or get torn apart by necrophages attracted by your potion ingredients—I found six in the connecting tunnels. Most ingredients weren’t going to keep, but I used up what I could and tossed the rest. Sorry. Books are in the guest bedroom. Just ask for my majordomo. He has standing orders to treat you like he would me, so feel free to grab a bath and some of Marlene’s cooking if you ever visit while I’m away.

...Can’t believe I fucking wrote that last bit. A witcher with a majordomo. Ever seen anything that absurd in all your years? Doubt it.

You should also know that the cellar is packed full of boxes from that toy shop. No, I haven’t gone all sentimental. Not for him anyway. Just figured our mutual acquaintance might need to be reminded of some of the gems hidden in the pile of shit that was that contract, if he ever winds up in these parts again. It’s purely practical. Anything that keeps him on the straight and narrow is necessary in my book, so get him carving and fixing things again if that helps. It’s more for you though, really. Mentioned that music box sounded like home, so I figured you might like it. Didn’t know what else might be worth keeping, so I just grabbed it all. Building was going to be repossessed anyway.

Burned that drawing off the wall though. No reason to tempt (semi) sleeping dragons of the royal variety.

Last, if you head to the estate and look under the third cobblestone from Roach’s stall, you’ll find a book titled My Evening With a Vampire. Read it. Should hold your interest for reasons other than the obvious. One of the characters was a bit too familiar for my taste. Didn’t want the text falling into the wrong hands, but wasn’t about to just destroy it either. Figured I’d leave that up to you. I’ve already got the ekimmara decoction out of it.

That’s all for now ...fuck. Wasn’t planning to bring this up, but now I feel like I should. Remember our friend the bootblack? Been to see him a few times since you left. BB (the majordomo) is always on my case about looking “presentable as head of a household.” Like a polish is going to do anything against the drowner guts on my pants. Yet BB somehow manages to chastise me while remaining impeccably polite, so I feel like I owe it to him to give in. That kind of passive aggression takes skill. You two would get along great. Anyway, been to the bootblack, lightened my coin pouch again (don’t ask), and learned about the orphanage he used to live in before starting that little enterprise of his. Long story short I did some digging and found that a very old acquaintance of yours owns the place. I’m sure you can guess who given the breadth of your social circle. No, she hasn’t suddenly turned altruistic. Sorry for sneaking a peek at that sleep journal of yours—Chalk it up to witcher’s curiosity. You did compliment me for it—but do you recall the “velvety, freshly squeezed” drink you were craving? Our friend doesn’t have your strength of will. I’m keeping tabs on it, but would appreciate your assistance in the matter if you ever have the time.

As for the rest of those entries: your friend didn’t die. I hope that means you’re no longer sad.

Two pages in, sweet Melitele. Dandelion always said you were the only one who could get me to talk for any decent length of time. Not that you don’t do enough of that for the both of us. Which made your own letter a bit of a surprise. Really? Last correspondence and you’re going to talk about your mutagenerator the whole time? Don’t know whether you failed at humility or were just trying to keep things impersonal. Not sure why you’d bother though. Wasn’t joking about the strength of your hooch, Regis. After a guy spills his secrets via that you’re close as anyone can get.

Either way, device is a lifesaver. Thanks.

The next time we meet (that’s not an “if,” Regis) remind me to tell you about Doctor Moreau’s research. I think you’ll find the benefits it gave me pretty fascinating. And the way I went about getting them pretty frustrating. I can picture the exact face you’re going to make. Look forward to seeing it.

Actually, know what? Don’t know why we should wait. As a wise friend once told me, we have a tendency to meet only when shit is hitting the windmill. I’d prefer to chat when life is calm for once, so if you’re reading this get your ass over to the estate. Don’t care what time it is. Door’s open.

Until then,

Geralt

P.S. BB told me the other day that Corvo Bianco roughly translates to “white crow.” Fitting, huh? It’s almost enough to make a guy believe in destiny.

#witcher #witcher fic #regis #emiel regis #geralt #witcher 3 #witcher wild hunt #first attempt at game!geralt's voice #I am WEAK for these two #will probably upload a copy on ao3 tomorrow

78 notes · View notes

goshwrites · 4 years

Text

business (yandere x reader) 1

warnings: swearing, ageplaying, obsession, unhealthy relationships

word count: 2.9

A/N: still not completely my best writing oof but here we go

taglist: (none as of yet since i’m keeping the taglist for the ben solo blurb separate from this one)

You know how like in some novels things happen right away one after another? Like the very next day or something? Well that didn't happen with you. The day after the whole fiasco with Romeo and Juliette... things were pretty chill. Boss of course seemed just a little agitated, but that was normal in your opinion since well... she always had a resting bitch face. Always. And then it was two days after it. Still nothing. You somehow got hit in the head with a paper ball that was thrown so badly it flew over the small wall that separated the cubicles instead of the trashcan. Yeah. That person's aim was horrible, but eh. They offered you chocolate once so you were cool. Three days after everything still was kind of cool. Someone's phone kept buzzing the Backstreet Boy's song I Want It That Way and of course any reasonable person would sing along with it which of course was you. Then four- well that was Saturday. And that was your glorious dayoff of going to the store and getting facial masks. And fifth was Sunday and with that you mostly chilled while working on editing your paper. Six was... Monday to say the least. No comment. And then what do you know? A whole week went by the incident and it seemed that no one even remembered or cared or just... were even awake to see it. Tuesday started out kind of nice. You didn't do that annoying thing of where you wake up like ten minutes before your alarm and then you try to go back to sleep because hey it's way too early but then you can't because anxiety and you spent like seven minutes inwardly arguing with your anxiety and before you know it- it's time to get up. But that didn't happen. That happened on Monday, yes, but Tuesday? Nah you woke up to the beautiful bliss of birds using their vocal cords and like some violins playing in the background. Over all it was nice. And you got a cheese bagel at your nearby bagel shop because they're everywhere. You greeted the security man that stood by the door with a 'good morning' on your way into the large building that also housed other companies like some kind of shoe company and like maybe one of Jojo's bowties? You really didn't know and didn't really wanna know. You walked out of the elevator of the floor you were on and proceeded to make your way to your cubicle. You sat down with the rolling chair moving backwards a tad before you reached out and got out your laptop from the beach bag. You were just typing in the password and going to your documents when you heard a soft, "Good morning," from your left and you look over to the opening to see Ben standing there. A small grin came onto your face at seeing the dark skinned male. "It is this time." You mused while thinking back on your grumpy mood yesterday. He chuckled while flashing that pearly white grin of his. "And am I not glad for that?" "Oh shut up." You said playfully towards the male as you brought up your latest project on your computer. He just chuckled and shook his head as if he just knew that you wouldn't pull through on your threat. And well he was right. "Uh huh. Anyways since you're in a better mood, I was thinking we could like go out for lunch?" He suggested with a shrug as you looked back up at him. He always liked to wear bright colors since he could always pull them off so well, so today he was wearing a neon yellow t-shirt and washed-out jeans. You weren't really wearing anything special. Just blue jeans, (f/c) shirt, and some converse so eh. Nothing special or extraordinary. Just the way you liked it. But somehow Ben always looked nice in everything he wore. You decided to just shove your writing abilities to the back of your mind as you pretended to think about it. "Hmmmm. I don't know. I don't really know if I like you or not." You said while stroking your chin as if there was a beard there. He chuckled and shook his head. "Awww. Come on, (N/n). I know you do and you know you love me." He practically whined to you with a childish pout making you giggle. "Of course I love you. You're one of the few people that are tolerable here." You told him with a grin and a shake of my head. 'You know you love me' was that one inside joke between the two of you. Whenever one just wasn't budging on something for whatever reason the other would always play that card. And usually it worked. He was probably about to say something about being offended by that statement, but your little bicker was irrupted. "(L/n)! My office!" You heard your last name being called out causing you to sit up right in your chair. And there standing at her office was Boss. Now Boss... was an interesting woman. One, she was born and raised in Liberia until her family moved here causing her to have a very strong accent. Two, she was very... well... blunt. She was like the Simon Cowell or Gordon Ramsey of writing. And three, even though her natural hair was black, she had dyed it a sort of burgundy red that stuck out like on a traffic light. But you've never been called to her office before. Not unless it was for another project. But... you were working on a project. So why did she call you? You forced yourself to rise from the rolling chair before you took in a deep breath. Just... don't jump around conclusions. You and Ben shared a look of mutual look of worry and confusion before you forced yourself to walk out and into the hallway. Others had already stopped typing to give you the look of 'uh oh' as you walked. Honestly you felt like you were going to your own funeral at these somber looks. But alas you reached the glass down of Boss's office. It was that type of office from Superman of where the walls were glass. You had to admit, you liked it. But at the moment you kinda wished the walls were concrete so no one could see you get fired. Wait. Fired? Now that started the anxiety ball rolling. But before you could turn away and maybe act like you were too sick to come to her office, she saw you and simply waved you in. Those glass walls. Traitors. You took in a deep breath and entered into the carpeted office room. Besides being all fancy with her name on the door in a sort of Instagram font, Boss had a reddish, dark brown wooden desk with four small drawers on each side at the top, and two large drawers at the bottom. The desk was definitely an expensive one since the handles for the drawers had designs on them. Overall Boss just causally flexed with the desk. And the carpet was like really comfy too as you shifted on it sort of nervously. Boss just looked at you before she picked up a Rubik Cube and just twirled it in her hand. She looked down at the multiple colors as she mixed the cube up. And finally easing the growing of your anxiety- she spoke. "Sit down, (L/n)." Obediently you sat down in the brown, leather chair that actually fit very well with the desk. She waited a few moments as if she was waiting to see if you were comfortable before she spoke again. "Do you remember what happened last week?" What? What happened? What week? Last week? What happened last week? You had no fucking idea. But were you gonna admit that? Hell no. "Yes, I do." You told her with a nod to make it seem like you weren't an idiot. "Well, today... I got the phone call from Stevie saying that she and Issac have gone back to his home town to get married." Wait... who? Then... ohhh yeeaaaah. Last week... those two. Right. "Wow. They didn't waste any time, huh?" You said while acting like you had an excellent memory of all things at all time. Yup. No dummy here. But that kinda brought up a question... why was she telling you this? "No, they did not." She said with a shake of her head before she leaned forward in her seat. "But.. I'm sure you're wondering why I am telling you this." You nodded at her words and she took this as a cue to continue. "Well... I assigned Stevie to an assignment that I thought that she was ready for, but now that she's getting married... well... I will need someone else for it." Huh. Why was she telling you this? Then... wait... oh. Oh. "You... want me for the assignment?" You asked as you couldn't hide the surprise that leaked into your voice. Huh. So obviously you weren't the first choice, but at least you were the second. Better than none, right? "If you will take it." Boss responded with a shrug as she looked down at the Rubik Cube while simultaneously solving it and speaking. Woah. "Well I mean uh- I would love too, Boss. But..." You briefly trailed off as you shifted in the leather seat. "Just what is the assignment?" "It's actually an interview." An interview? Now... that is something you did not have that much experience on. Who would you be interviewing? Harry Styles? Oh now that would be great. (But sadly this isn't a 1D fanfic) "Well uh... I don't really have that much experience with like journalism and like interviews." You awkwardly confessed as you scratched your head. "But... who is it?" Boss paused as she stopped almost... completing the Rubik Cube. What. How did she that so fast? But your confessed and amazed eyes moved back up to Boss whenever she answered your question with, "Edward Gimmens." Then... wait. Edward Gimmens… as in... that really rich guy? That Edward Gimmens? You just stared at your Boss in amazement as she finished the Rubik Cube. But you weren't amazed by her skill- okay yes you were actually- but more with the fact as... "How... did you get an interview slot with him?" As far as you knew the philanthropist, billionaire, and whatever he had on his resume didn't do interviews for magazines that centered around Millenniums and Gen-Zs. He did it for those really big and out there magazines, you know? "Well, believe it or not, he came to us. But that is not important. You'll have to come up with your questions and such, but you can use Stevie's notes." She said as she set the cube down and pulled out a folder out from her desk. You blinked a few times at her rapid explanation as just.. woah. "But of course that's if you are taking the job." That... was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Or the billion in this case. Ha, ha, ha. "I... well... I... what makes you think I can do this?" You found the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them. Uh- uh- uh- "Of course I am grateful you offered it to me, but umm... why?" You quickly added as to not seem rude. "Well... Stevie was my first choice since she's done work like this before." Boss began with a shrug as she leaned back against the chair. "But when she had to go... well... you just popped into my head as the next capable person to do this." You? Capable? You still got anxiety with ordering your own meal. "You... think I can do this?" You asked hesitantly and in an unsure way as your (e/c) eyes met Boss's. She smiled just a tad before she leaned forward. "(L/n)… I see potential in you. You're a good writer and you know how to set a pace right in whatever you write. You're just... how do I put this? Not confident in your abilities. So... I'm giving you the old... shove-you-out-of-the-airplane thing." That... did not sound ideal. Not at all. But still you slowly nodded your head. "All right. Thanks, Boss, I'm honored you think so highly of me, but umm... can I have some time to think about it?" "Ah yes. Of course, of course. Take as much time as you need." She said while waving her hand in the air and with her accent sort of slurring her words together making the 'course' sound like 'close.' "But just not too much time. This does need to be written, you know." You nodded before you stood up from the comfy chair. "I'll... let you know by Friday." You decided on that day while your anxiety told you in one ear that you won't be able to decide by then and your self worth was whispering how she would find someone else in that time period. Fun times. "That is good, (L/n). I'll be awaiting for your answer." She said with a nod as she stood up as well. You couldn't help, but slightly smile at the way she worded things. "And ah! Just in case you do decide to take the job, here is the notes Stevie had." She said while picking up the folder she had brought onto her desk previously. She handed it to you and you took it from her dark and freckled hands. "Just read it over and see what you think." "I will Boss. Thanks."

With one final goodbye and wave to Boss, you exited out of the office and back down the hall to your cubicle.

So... you weren't getting fired? You actually kind of got promoted in a way? I mean, if you did this interview right... others would be put on your desk.

But this was Edward Gimmens, the CEO of Gimmens Incorporated. This was a man who's spent nearly three decades in making his name known in whatever way.

He was a well known and looked up to man in whatever he did. Whether it be taking mankind steps closer to having flying cars or what he was most known for, and you found it a little humorous, cosmetics.

Yes that's right.

The philanthropist, inventor, and very rich guy was famous for his makeup. Somehow he had figured out a way to have any foundation or concealer or blush fit exactly to your skin tone. Instead of having to make a formula for each different skin tone, he was somehow able to make one for all. Needless to say, the product instantly became a favorite around the world. Even you had tried it once, and contrary to what you expected, it somehow blended perfectly.

He was like the Willy Wonka of makeup. And you were suppose to interview him.

You sat back down on your rolling chair with a huff. But should you take it? It was a great- like really great- opportunity for you and the magazine. Of course Boss can always get somebody else, but still.

It was great and big and perfect, but... also stressing. You were going to have to come up with questions... but Stevie did leave behind notes for you. And thinking of the notes- you had the folder.

You set it on your desk before you opened it up to see the Instagram font that was Stevie's handwriting.

Man. You'd probably kill someone for being able to write that elegantly.

You read over what she had so far in her notes and you had to admit that she had some pretty good ideas of what she wants to ask. You bit your lip and decided to close the folder for now.

Hmm. Maybe... just maybe, this won't be so bad.

But of course- you needed another person's opinion on this.

"Hey, Ben?" You decided to speak up over the clicking keyboards to your cubicle mate.

"Yeah?" Came his one worded reply.

"I would love to go to lunch with you."

And even though you couldn't see it, you knew he was smiling.

#yandere x reader #x reader #reader insert #ageplayer #ageplaying #horror #romance #business #oc yandere #original yandere #original story #inserrt #fiction

44 notes · View notes

catxtopia · 4 years

Text

Lips Of a Stranger} Chp. 10

Author: catxtopia

Ship: Billdip ((fluffy))

Characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher, Gideon Gleeful

Summary: The Night Vale AU no one asked for.

Author notes: I am back on my bullshit, lets finish this.

Read: ao3

((HOHO Betcha thought you saw the last of me.

Four years late but hey I fricken finished this shit! I sat down literally yesterday after a kind person commented that they still wait for updates on this story (srsly so sorry and you're so sweet holly heck, never say comments don't totally motivate a writer) and finished this. I already had this chapter written many years ago but I didn't wanna post it until I finished the rest (so sorry for my dumb past self). So this one sounds pretty much the same as the rest of the story, however cannot confirm for the rest of the work.

I haven't written in ages, I don't particularly like writing anymore if I am being honest. I am not great at it but I have a lot of ideas lmao. So I just wanna preface that the ending... probably not great lol. I will have a full report on the last chapter, however, on my old ideas for this story and what I thought it could be. There is probably a lot of plot holes and unanswered things but I tried^^;;;

Anyways, I'll upload either every day or every other day depending. But this shall finally be finished lads! (also no beta, we're animals here)))

“You found it!?”

Lying still, yet menacingly, on the kitchen table was a maroon journal with a black number 1 inked firmly in the center. It was larger than an average book and much worse for wear, the red leather was ripped and mystery blotches were smudged in several different locations on the cover. Mabel and Dipper stood around the object that had been of desire for so long. Neither made a move to touch it, treating it like an old relic—which it very well could have been as far as Dipper knew.

“Yeah, it was in this wired compartment in a tree outside.” Dipper scratched lightly at his chin, eyes roaming over the book. His fingers itched with curiosity for he had yet to open and examine the contents inside. He wasn’t sure if he should, waiting for Cipher seemed like the logical option but that required calling the man, followed by seeing him again, and the thought of meeting gold eyes sent his stomach through all kinds of loops. Thus, his phone stayed promptly in his pocket where it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Compartment in a tree, huh?” Mabel repeated, a confused look crossing her face. She, too, moved her hand to rub lightly at her chin in thought. “How’d you come across that?”

Dipper stiffened ever so slightly, and then casted a glance at his intrigued sister. He cleared his throat and shifted to stuff his hands in his pockets roughly. “I just, ya know, fell against it.” He shrugged, trying his best to remain cool—which was, to say, impossible when it came to Dipper Pines.

“Fell against it, hm?” Mabel’s eyebrow slowly started rising.

“Yes, I fell against it!” Dipper sputtered, looking away towards the book again. “The details of how I found the book aren’t important. What is important is that I found it !”

Mabel stifled her giggles as much as her lips would allow. “Whatever you say, Bro bro.” She mused and leaned over the dusty object, intentionally ignoring the tomato that was now her brother beside her. He’d been through enough teasing this morning, she’d let him off the hook this once. “What do you thinks inside?”

Dipper leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “No idea.” He quietly thought back to the times he and Cipher were looking for said book. A distant memory of going to the junkyard and the words black magic and demons , danced in the back of his mind but he elected to ignore those warnings. If the book really was dangerous, there was no way Cipher would be looking for it. At least that’s what Dipper told himself.

“Are you going to open it?” Mabel quirked a brow, eyes not leaving the book.

Dipper shifted against the counter. “I don’t know, Mabes. Maybe we should wait for Cipher to open it first.”

Mabel pursed her lips and squinted at the book.

There was a long pause, the only sound being whispers from the TV playing in the other room. Then Mabel, with a big intake of breath, announced loudly: “I am gonna open it.” And quickly flipped the front cover open.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelped, but his words fell on deaf ears as the young girl turned another page, and then another. “Mabes, seriously, be careful with it! We don’t know what it is, it could be super old and crumble at human touch! Who knows what—”

As Dipper rambled on and on, Mabel’s quick movements tentatively began to slow. She flipped only one more page before stopping and taking in a soft gasp, voice riddled with distraught. “Oh my gosh.” She whispered breathlessly. Dipper paused in his ranting, staring at the back of his sister's head since he couldn’t see the book around her. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” He inquired, a drop of unease plopping into the pits of his stomach. Mabel’s shoulders were tense; body rigged with what Dipper could only assume was fear. She looked as though she was witnessing a demon rise out from the pits of hell, or at the very least like her sweaters were being set aflame. And throughout it all, all Dipper could hear were McGucket’s warnings ringing loud and clear inside his jumbled head. “That books bad news I tell ya! Black magic, raising devils, kinda bad news! Nothin good ever came out of that thing.” Dipper cringed at the voice. “What is it?”

“It’s terrible…” Mabel whispered, leaning further over the book. Her hair draped over the yellowing pages, eyes hidden behind thick bangs. “Cipher, he’s…”

“What? What about Cipher?” Dipper stepped closer. He could feel his heart thump a little faster with each step he took towards his sister.

“He’s a…” The girl moved back, turning swiftly to face her brother. Her face was red and cheeks puffed out, eyes leaking frustrated tears and— “ He’s a giant nerd just like you!” She exclaimed dramatically, throwing one hand towards the opened journal and another over her stomach as she doubled over laughing.

Dipper stared, dumbfounded as his sister flopped onto the tabled to keep from falling onto the floor. She was wheezing and stomped a foot every so often, trying to regain her breathing. He couldn’t believe this. “Mabel.” Dipper squinted hard at the girl. The only answer he got was more laughing and a few arm flails. “Mabel, you jerk.” Dipper sighed, but a small smile was tugging at his lips.

“Oh! Oh!” Mabel giggled, laughter beginning to die out into soft gasps. “Oh my gosh, yo- your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “You got me.” Behind his ribs, his heart was still pounding with adrenaline. He willed his limbs to stop their jittery shakes and calm the hell down. There was nothing to worry about, Mabel was just being her usual dork self. He looked towards the open book finally, now being able to get a good view of it. “So what’s in this thing, anyways?”

Having calmed down a bit, Mabel slipped across the kitchen in her fluffy pink socks, clamped onto the fridge handle and yanked it open to retrieve a can of Pit Cola. She juggled it in her hands, closing the door again with her hip. As she snapped the can open she explained lightly, “Looks like a dictionary for supernatural stuff to me. Really wired, it’s all hand written and stuff.” She paused and took a big gulp of her drink.

Dipper nodded and examined the scribbles and notes about different creatures. His eyes widened the further he flipped from page to page, completely entranced with the object sitting before him. It was no wonder Cipher wanted this thing, the stories he could produce with the book would be endless!

“This is amazing.” Dipper breathed. Gnomes, Zombies, Ghosts, this book was like a paranormal junkies Holy Grail.

Mabel hummed and jumped up onto the counter. “It makes sense why Cipher would want this. I am sure he will be happy you found it.” She mused, swinging her legs back and forth to the rhythm of a song stuck in her head. “Now you guys don’t have to go searching anymore! That’ll probably be a big nuisance off his shoulders.”

Dipper hummed absentmindedly as he drew his finger along the edge of the book, a thin layer of dust bunched up and latched onto his finger. He pulled his hand back, pinching the ball of dirt between his thumb and index finger till the grains rolled off his skin. He wondered briefly how long the book had been in that tree for, and for what reason.

“No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster. I wonder if this old thing will help him with his work, or if that’s even what he wanted it for.” Mabel muttered against the rim of her soda can.

Dipper’s fingers instantly stilled, entire body freezing like someone had pushed a pause button on the boy’s life. No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster . The words bounced around in his head several times and every repeat left a horrible taste in his mouth. He gulped and dropped his hand, brushing it harshly against his faded jeans. “Yeah, don’t know.” He bit out.

A minute ago he’d been excited to see Cipher’s reaction to his discovery, because damn it he was proud! And maybe boasting a little in the ego department. Now dread was filling up his core. No more time with Cipher…

Mabel slurped at her drink loudly, oblivious to the way her brother scooped up the book with a hesitant hand. “So, when are you gonna tell him?” She looked up past her wavy bangs, confused to find Dipper retreating towards the stairs at a quick pace. “Dipper?”

.:.:.

Dipper paced along the length of his bedroom, feet scuffing against the hardwood floor. He could practically feel the wood splintering away with each step he took. It was only a matter of time before he’d run a rut in the floor. He could hardly bring himself to care; however, as he gnawed at his thumbnail in a simple attempt to help distract his brain.

This was stupid, Dipper was stupid. He could hardly believe he was even thinking about the train of thought that he was. Not telling Cipher about the book? What kind of nonsense was that? He had to; it was his moral duty to give up the journal to the radio host. Otherwise, everything they’d done together thus far would be for nothing. The whole reason Dipper was being kept around was for the sole purpose of finding the book.

And once you give the book up, you won’t have a reason to be around Cipher anymore , Dipper thought sullenly. He turned once he paced as far as he could towards the door, changing direction to continue shuffling back the route he came towards the triangle window above his bed. It was a vicious cycle, this back and forth, back and forth. All the while he kept his eyes glued on the ground. He paused when his irises caught sight of a neatly folded pile of clothes at the end of his bed. Black jacket, pants, yellow scarf… A flash of blonde hair and the feel of rough bark against his back blurred past his eyes.

There would probably be no more of that once he gave up the book. Dipper lightly drew a finger against his chapped lips. If he thought hard enough he could still feel the pressure Cipher’s smooth lips had left against his own.

“Oh man.” Dipper mumbled aloud. Here he was worrying over some scraps of paper sewn together, while he should be questioning the fluttering in his chest from earlier interactions.

Cipher had kissed him and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he thoroughly enjoyed it. Both Mabel and Pacifica will be delighted to rub it in his face once they find out.

Dipper dropped onto his bed with a frustrated groan. Everything was happening all so suddenly, so fast he couldn’t make left or right of the images flashing before his eyes. And it was all because of that darn radio host with his perfect golden hair and otherworldly eyes. Not to mention his lean body that fit so right against Dipper’s the night before, warm like a blanket and oh so comfortable… Dipper shook his head quickly, expelling any further thoughts of Cipher’s body.

Really, Cipher was too handsome for his own good. It was practically supernatural.

Dipper snorted at the thought and fell back against the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a soft sigh fluttering past his lips. What to do, what to do. He slid his hands up to rest on his chest and began tapping his fingers against his worn shirt.

“So you tell him.” Dipper muttered to himself. “You tell him about the book. It’ll make him happy, probably further his show somehow and bring in more listeners, which will make his work life better.” His fingers paused in their tapping, then slowly started picking up a rhythm again as he let another thought enter his mind. “Or you don’t tell him, you continue looking for the book as if you haven’t already found it and grow closer. Eventually he’ll forget about the book and move on, which will make his personal life better.”

“You don’t tell him and possibly ruin his career .” A voice that sounded eerily similar to Mabel’s rumbled in the back on his head. Ah, the voice of reason. It was bound to come poking its ugly face in here eventually.

“I don’t necessarily know if it’s for his show.” Dipper grumbled, sinking a little further against his bed. Great now he was talking to himself.

“What else would he need it so badly for?”

“I don’t know, curiosity? For a collection, maybe? His life revolves around the supernatural; it’s not that farfetched to want a journal filled on the subject.”

“So you’d rather keep the object of his desire away from him, in the hopes you become that object for him instead. That’s quite selfish.”

“Well no one asked you.” Dipper huffed and rolled onto his side. He stared aimlessly out the triangular window nearby. The sun had already begun to drip close to the tree line, casting an array of colors throughout his room. It was beautiful, really, all oranges and reds, and the occasional pink glow scattering across the shack's rustic interior. His eyes followed the colorful trail of light right back to the pile of clothes at the end of his bed. He stared at the yellow scarf for a long while before he worked up the strength to reach for it.

The fabric was so soft, softer than anything he’d felt before. It was probably really expensive. Dipper tugged the material fully into his palms and laid back down. He held onto the scarf like a blanket, running the pads of his fingers over the kind stitching. “Maybe he won’t leave once he has the book.” Dipper thought aloud once again. He was starting to make a habit out of talking to himself apparently.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep information from Cipher, especially news that’d make him happy. The paranoia engraved deep in his soul that the man would eventually forget about him if they had no reason to be around each other was just too overpowering. Even though there was a good chance Cipher liked hanging around Dipper for Dipper and not just for his searching skills. It was a big chance, honestly. You don’t just kiss someone you plan on ditching. Cipher seemed like a better person than that, anyways.

But doubt was always louder than hope.

With a quick glance at the clock—which already read 5:10PM—Dipper decided he’d allow himself to sleep on it. It was already late so there was no use calling up Cipher now; he wouldn’t be able to come by until tomorrow anyways.

Settling on that, Dipper rolled over and closed his eyes. Super wouldn’t be ready for another hour or so and a nap sounded like a pleasant idea in the meantime.

.:.:.

Three days.

It’d been three days since Dipper found the old journal hidden in a tree. The journal, which a certain radio host had yet to know, was within Dipper’s possession. It had been shamefully tucked away in the brunet’s desk under a pile of scrap papers. It wasn’t the greatest hiding spot by any means, but Dipper didn’t feel comfortable leaving the relic under his bed or somewhere in his closet. At least in his desk, the book didn’t face any chances of getting ruined.

He stuck the poor book in the bottom drawer with the intention of returning to it in a week – because a night to sleep on deciding to give the book to Cipher just wasn’t enough. He simply wanted a little more time with the radio host to assure he wouldn’t ditch him. That was reason enough, right? In one week time, the book would be given to the blonde man. Until then, Dipper proclaimed he’d live with the guilt and enjoy some downtime with the host.

And what a glorious three days it had been so far. Cipher had been spending a large majority of the days hanging around Dipper’s work again. They’d continued their little routine, but the silence was filled with a lot more bashful glances and sly smiles. The kiss hadn’t been officially mentioned, but the implication that both of them equally enjoyed it and wouldn’t mind doing it again was pretty clearly expressed.

When Dipper wasn’t shackled to his job at the bookstore – and Cipher by extension – they usually ended up spending time around town or the radio station. Very rarely were they away from each other’s side. Not that either was complaining. However, every so often when Dipper would glance Cipher’s way, he’d feel a ball of guilt nibbling away at the core of his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking about the things he was hiding from the man. It didn’t feel right, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

“Do you like your job?”

Cipher blinked open his eyes and tilted his head a little towards the brunet lying somberly beside him. They’d been lying outside on a patch of drying grass a short ways from the radio station, simply enjoying the last few drops of autumn. The sun was high above them, basking them in a nice enough warmth that they only needed light jackets. Cipher was currently wearing the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Dipper a few days prior, having yet to give it up. Not that Dipper really cared, he felt slightly prideful seeing the radio host wearing something of his.

Cipher shifted his arms, which lay beneath his head. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He looked back towards the calm blue sky. “It’s fun, I like being able to talk about whatever the hell I want for a living. I am not the biggest fan of having to hide behind a curtain all the time, but it comes with the job.”

Dipper hummed, mulling over that information. He flicked his fingers against the zipper on his jacket. “Why do you have to be so secretive? I doubt anyone would like… attack you or something if they knew who you were.”

Cipher chuckled and turned on his side, arm bent and hand holding up his head. Dipper moved in a similar fashion so that they both faced each other. “There are a few reasons. Gideon thinks having me be unnamed makes me more mysterious, that not only the show holds secrets but even the host does.” He shrugged. “Plus, I like being able to live my life without interruptions. I would get annoyed pretty quickly if people were stopping me on the streets or spewing nonsense about me in teen magazines.”

Dipper twirled his fingers around a few blades of grass, tugging them lazily as he listened. “And here I thought you liked attention.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I do! I would love people bending at my every need, but I have standards. I wouldn’t be able to sit here with you like this if I was open about my identity, and that’s not something I am quite willing to give up.”

“I guess that… makes sense.” Dipper pondered. “So you’re a man full of secrets then?”

“I am a man with many angles and lots of knowledge of various topics, who happens to also like having a private life, so if that makes me secretive then I guess I am. However, since I like you I’ll tell you my secrets,” Cipher leaned forward, lips curving into a seductive smirk. “for a price~”

Dipper’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, “Oh really? And what’s your price, Cipher?” He mused, putting up his best confident front.

“Hmmm,” Cipher’s eyes flickered from Dipper’s eyes to his lips then quickly back again. “I don’t know, it’d probably have to be something really pricey since I’ve got a lot of secrets.”

Dipper snorted and rolled his eyes, “What like my soul?” He joked and playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

If one were to have blinked in that moment they probably would have missed the way Cipher’s eyes widened and sparked with wonder for a fraction of a second. He continued to smirk at his companion before rolling onto his back to stare up at the sky once again. “Something like that.” He hummed pleasantly. “I am sure your soul would be a beauty.”

Dipper scoffed and flopped over onto his stomach, arms crossing beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and snuggled a little deeper in his jacket. “Don’t all souls look the same? Like a smoking white ball.”

“I think you’ve been playing too many video games.” Cipher flicked at the edge of Dipper’s ear, earning a small yelp and glare from the boy. “Souls come in all colors and shapes, kid. The more corrupted the soul, the worse it looks. What the world considers ‘sinners’ usually look black, less smoky, more goopy. Like a ball of hot, bubbling tar. While good people are bright, wispy, and usually emit a color.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.” Dipper mumbled into the curve of his arm.

Cipher chuckled under his breath. “Call it a passion of mine.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence after that, lying happily beside each other with only the whispers of wind and occasional tweet of a bird filling the silence. They lay close enough that their arms brushed and with a little maneuvering their hands slipped into each other without question.

It was nice, being able to be together like this without any distractions. To simply enjoy each other’s company. Dipper really didn’t want to let this go, and yet as he peeked past his bangs at the still figure beside him, he knew that he would.

“Hey, Cipher.” Dipper said just barely above a whisper. He watched the blonde’s eyebrow twitch but his eyes remained closed.

“Hm?”

“I gotta tell you something, it’s kind of important, it’s about the b—”

Just as the words were about to flutter out of his mouth, a shrill ring of a phone smacked Dipper’s train of thought straight from his head. His lips latched shut and eyes looked down at Cipher’s glowing pocket, which the man was quickly moving to reach.

He flicked the device on and squinted at the screen as if it had personally offended him. Whether that was because it had interrupted Dipper or not, the boy wasn’t sure.

“Sorry, just an email.” Cipher’s expression lightened considerably as he turned the screen to face Dipper. “Look at this cat jumping in and out of boxes! Giffy sent it. Cats are so silly!”

True to his word, there was a cat hopping into different sized boxes with a small message from Giffany at the bottom of the screen. Dipper smiled softly at the ridiculous video. Of course Cipher would find cat videos funny, what doesn’t he find funny? Dipper thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that, nope, Cipher could get a kick out of anything.

As he watched the video play through, Dipper couldn’t help his eyes wandering to the corner of the screen where a list of information sat. At the top of the list was a name, one that had Dipper’s heart stalling. “Uh.” The boy muttered very intelligently.

Cipher tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows at Dipper’s odd expression. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t find cat videos funny. Cause I don’t think this relationship can work if—”

“Bill?”

#it's done bby #two more chaps #shall update tomorrow #billdip #my writing #lips of a stranger #billdip fic #fanfiction #fic

17 notes · View notes