#Bill's SO mad about it if it gets stuck in his head
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Dipper diving into demonic music just because, and then finding a song that Bills ex wrote about Bill and him, and it's like those cringy tiktok songs and he's just listening like "(0.O) i-what?? I'm not a harpy?? what- that doesn't even rhyme??"
He also finds a disturbing amount of love(lust?) songs about him, theres serenades, most of them are absolutely trash, and surprisingly some of them are catchy. Catch someone looking at dipper listening to something with earphones on thinking he's probably listening to regular music but it's demonic music and the lyrics are like "I want to ######## ###### ####### #### and ###### ########## Bills husband" Or smthng along those lines
Sorry for ranting this ws just on my mind 😔
Also consider: Dipper, still not quite fluent in the common demonic tongue, finding a fairly catchy song and thinking 'hey, that's cool'. Pretty rare that he finds something demonic that he actually jives with.
Which is when Bill walks in on Dipper humming along to a song that paints him in a very profane light. Most times Bill would laugh at Dipper shimmying to some tune 'cause he didn't get how lewd it was, but this one is not it.
In the moment, Dipper's bewildered at Bill's fuming, sulking, and possessive reaction. Also complains about the speaker getting smashed. It's not until he hears it playing again much later, and actually listens to the lyrics, that he goes 'well, shit'.
#answers#Typically Dipper fumbling over the language is cute! Adorable even!#There's a lot of teasing involved#Dipper catches on very quickly but like any second language learner#You can't expect him to get the innuendos immediately#Especially when demonic ones are probably *really* oddly phrased#It's all fun and games until Dipper's hips are swaying to 'I'm Bedding Bill's Husband' or some other more filthy lyrics#NOT cool; Bill's finding out who's been playing these tunes for his mortal and kicking them into the bone-burrowing serpent pit#The worst part is that it WAS catchy#Bill's SO mad about it if it gets stuck in his head#Ruins his whole day#“I'm banging Bill's husband/But he doesn't know it/A mortal in my bed/though he never shows it”#“His legs are spread/his uncle is dead/and Bill doesn't know shit”
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A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺
nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth
c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda
it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to
they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that
simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…
“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer
simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads
“she’s so selfish.”
‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(
“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.
you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john
“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you
simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them
and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t
he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him
he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.
‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan
his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom
“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen
he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years
he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house
you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks
“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt
“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly
“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh
“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter
he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes
“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him
he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip
“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer
he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date
but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.
#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley
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𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫
1.3k | just for fun since it’s blizzarding here rn
The wind blustered against the cracked windshield. Sending waves of sleet and snow against the van, hitting like gravel against the tin body.
He silently curses himself for not getting the windshield fixed before winter came. A huffed breath drags from him, little puffs of frigid air in the cold interior of the van, as he attempts to blow warmth to his chilled to the bone fingers. Aching from the repetitive motions from work.
Eddie’s life didn’t end up how he had planned. The rockstar gig was nothing more than that— a gig. One show maybe two a month at the hideout, a small little escape into the world he once was determined to get to.
But life had other plans for him. Things he never saw coming.
The sharp right turn into Forest Hills was blanketed by thick drifts of snow, covering the usual pot holes. Still he avoided them anyway— the last thing he needed was a blown tire in this weather.
Forecast called for “1-3 inches” but what the stuck up weather man didn’t predict was the wind.
The wind brought with it freezing temperatures, a high of barely four degrees. He called Wayne on his break, telling him he’d stop by after work and shovel his pickup out so he could make his shift tonight, but Wayne only grunted and told Eddie he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, just to get home safe.
The ill maintained roads were horrible, his tires slid and skid anytime he tapped the brakes or eased on the gas pedal, making the usual ten minute drive home turn into twenty, then thirty.
He was crabby, hungry and itching for a cigarette, but the gas stations were closed for the upcoming storm, leaving an itch in his jaw that drove him mad.
Anything and everything that could go wrong in one day had. Equipment broke, most of the shift hadn’t shown up due to the storm causing him to work in place of two other jobs on top of his own. The lunch he brought was left in the van by mistake after hurrying to get punched in when his alarm hadn’t gone off.
And now throwing the van in park he realized he never turned the lights off in his rushed attempt to make it to work on time.
Punching the steering wheel he curses again, the light bill would be outrageous next month.
The van door was stuck, probably frozen from the outside, and he shoved his shoulder into the frame to try to loosen it enough so he could get out. The wind hit him like a freight train, stealing his breath and pelting his face, chapping his cheeks red and ruddy.
Rage filled his lungs as his sweat soaked bandana started to feel like a frozen sheet of ice on his head. Crunching his curls into icicles.
The cold air seeped through his jeans, and he shivered when his boots sunk into the snow. Dropping his keys three separate times into the snow, Eddie yelled into the night.
And if he weren’t so mad he might have noticed a set of footprints leading from your trailer to his.
He might have heard the radio buzzing about the incoming bad weather.
He might have smelled a delicious slurry of cooked meat, beans and tomatoes boiling on the stove.
The front door was frozen too, and when he finally jimmied the handle and flung the door open, he nearly burst into tears.
The place is spotless.
Ashtrays were emptied and sparkling like the countertops, the heap of clothes on top of his washer were folded and put away. A candle is lit on the table. You must have brought your own vacuum over because his hasn’t worked since the 70s.
The small patch of linoleum under his feet was swept, his other pair of work boots and shoes were lined up neatly against the wall. A new rag thread utility rug was also underfoot.
His eyes brimmed hot with tears at the sight of his clean house, and you, standing at the stove with a wooden spoon to your lips.
“Hi! Made a cobbler with that jar of peaches from Joyce Byers,” you chirp, pulling the oven door open and placing the dessert dish onto the potholders, “I know it’s not the season for it but it just sounded so good.”
It wasn’t your mess and you shouldn’t have to clean up after a grown man. But you do, and Eddie is more than grateful for your caring heart, for how sweet you are to him even on days he wants nothing more than to rot on the couch and feel sorry for himself.
His eyes soften, and before you can ask him how his day was, he’s grabbing your cheeks with ice cold hands, bringing his frigid mouth to the warmth of your temple before kissing the tomatoey stain from your lips.
He sighs into you, his body releasing all the pent up anger and pain from the day. Solace of your arms melted away the glacial cold from within him.
The kisses don’t stop, and you have to lean back to turn the stove off in hopes that the chili doesn’t burn before you can eat it.
His cold nose nudges down your neck, kissing the chain he placed there a year ago, one you never took off. He mumbles into your skin and his stomach groans with emptiness.
“Let’s get you fed big boy,” you mouth against his sweaty curls, and he happily obliges.
After he places the last bite of chili from his bowl into your mouth, you drag him to the shower.
Rinsing the shampoo from his curls and warming his still cold skin with your body. The heat from his tongue lapping at your skin, and something else prominently making itself known on the cheek of your ass.
“Didn’t have to do all of that, baby,” he murmurs into your ear, fingers slowing working soap into your skin.
“Wanted to, I love you Eds.”
You’ve said it many times before, never once pressuring him into saying it back if he wasn’t ready. A life full of shitty people, it was hard for him to open up, but you opened something up in him that he hadn’t felt before, and he couldn’t get enough of you.
Tangled limbs climb from the shower, skin barely rinsed and wet tendrils of hair hang down each of your necks. Your lips still taste like chili, and he still smells like work, but neither of you care.
Lips smack together and skin is left hickied and sweaty. Elbows and knees are rubbed raw from the itchy sheets on his bed, his hair is drying into a mess from your fingers lacing through it, your breath making the curls go frizzy when he pulls you into him and rocks your body against his sat cock.
Pulling sugary noises from you again, and again, he finally says it there. Chin between your legs, your orgasm dripping wet from his lips.
You sit up to see him, not sure if you heard.
He says it again, liking the way it sounds, something he had been scared of saying for a long time, but he always knew he did.
A single tear slips down his cheek and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, the cobbler would sit untouched until tomorrow, Eddie having found a sweeter dessert to indulge in, love.
#eddie munson#eddie x fem!reader#eddie x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#eddie fan fiction#eddie fanfic
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𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ✰
A/n:hey cuties finally a fic out after a month 😭 this is a collab with @tomssexdoll I think we absolutely did amazing she’s a fabulous writer!! I hope you guys enjoy <33
parings: 2011 Mafia Bill x Freader
genre:angst to smut to fluff?
MDNI
warnings:A LOT of swearing p in v dom!bill sub!freader a bit of abuse please please do not read if your uncomfortable or sensitive with these topics!!
You and bill were forced to get married, the promise of your businesses improving if we did. You guys obviously agreed to this wanting to make as much money and more deals if you could.
You and bill had a lot of sex mainly during a middle of an argument, you were both very stubborn and immature, not willing to accept yours and his mistakes. You both had your good moments together not everything was terrible with him, sometimes he’d hold you and tell me how much he loved you, but his actions would be speak a lot more than words. Most nights Bill would be gone coming home at midnight or even later, lying to you constantly the question that always lingered in the back of your mind was that did he really love you or was he just using you?
You both had multiple fights a week some even becoming more abusive than usual, one got so bad he almost succeeded at throwing a chair at your head. You guys hated being like that towards each other but you couldn’t help it. It was way too stressful and overwhelming of being one of the top mafia couples in the world.
Bill came home late one night again saying goodbye to all his buddies as they sped off, he fiddled with the door before swinging it open and slamming it shut, You were in the lounge, it was pitch black having a cigarette lit your legs crossed, you felt like scaring him making him mad anything at all.
As he went to walk up the stairs you startled him with your voice, “And where the fuck where you exactly.” “Jesus Christ don’t scare me like that why are you in the dark for?” he grumbled before turning on a light noticing your red puffy eyes.
“Have..have you been crying?” he scoffed “As a matter of fact I have did you know how fucking worried I was about you what if you got shot?” You raised your voice after talking a long drag from your burning cigarette.
“Fuck sake like you’d care wether if I was dead or alive, can’t I have my fucking fun? I’ve been stuck here for a week with you for work” he went over to the liquor cabinet taking out his aged whiskey and sitting in his chair pouring the burnt umber drink into the glass.
“You’re a fucking asshole you know that right?” You glared at him your jaw slightly clenched “trust me I know” he lit a cigarette as well “you tell me everyday just as I tell you that you’re a whiny bitch all the time.” he gave you a sarcastic smile rolling his eyes and taking a huge sip from his whiskey.
“I can’t believe you just go out, stay out till 5 in the morning and I get no fucking call at all, you expect me to greet you with cookies and milk but yet you still think I���m a shit wife your the fucking, pathetic one here.” You shouted, “don’t yell at me you drive me up the wall here” Bill yelled back getting up from his chair and storming over to me, he grabbed your wrist with so much force pulling you up towering over you.
“oh you think you scare me? Nice try.” I snatched my wrist away, blowing the smoke in his face, Bill just stood there his gaze burning into mine a certain rage taking over him.
“You are so controlling can’t a grown man do what he wants when he wants?.” He huffed his chest heaving up and down in anger Bill was gonna snap at any moment. “I’m the controlling one here?! Aren’t you the one who gets mad at me for looking in another guys direction, you beat up any man I talk to refuse to let me go out when I’m apparently wearing something too “short” but yes bill I’m the controlling one you fucking hypocrite.” You scoffed shaking your head.
“At least I have good reasons, you’re the one getting upset over me being out late suck it up doll.” he spat his words cruel, “You just don’t get it do you? It’s not the fact that you’re out late I don’t give a shit do what you want, It’s the fact that I never got told where you are, I’m sitting here late at night wondering where you are and if I should call the police or not, I’m really fucking sorry for worrying about you is that so bad?” Your voice still raised anger coursing through your veins.
“You make me so fucking mad..” he grunted walking closer towards you narrowing his eyes at you. “Cry me a river,you’re a grown man aren’t you? Learn how to deal with your emotions properly.” You rolled your eyes, Bill grabbed your hair pulling you close “don’t fucking speak to me that way!!” he yelled inches away from your face.
You pushed him off slapping him harshly across the face leaving a bright red hand mark. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that” you screamed, “You know what I could kill you right now.” He yelled back rage in his voice.
“Shoot me then fucking shoot me.” I yelled my voice starting to strain. you and bill just stood there silent for a second both of your chests heaving up and down.
Without another word bill grabbed you by your waist and kissed you passionately his tongue entering your mouth searching for dominance, “Your so fucking whiny aren’t you” he muttered between kisses, his hand roughly slapping your ass you couldn’t help but moan. He pulled away from the kiss a string of salvia parting from your mouth, Grabbing your hand and taking you upstairs he had a pretty strong grip you almost couldn’t keep up.
When you guys made it to your room he threw you on the bed towering over you his dark brown orbs filled with such lust, wasting no time he ripped off your shirt then your jeans leaving you in nothing but your black lace set of lingerie. Bill groaned at the sight a large tent forming in his pants, “You’re so pretty f’me Schatzi” he said in a raspy voice, your breath hitched your core getting even more wet. Even though sometimes Bill was a complete prick you couldn’t help the affect he had on you.
He unclasped your bra and ripped off your underwear, your nipples and your wet cunt getting exposed to the cool air a shiver went down your spine running his fingers over your breasts. You whined “Don’t be a tease Billy this isn’t fair” he smirked and lifted your chin up “Does my doll want me fuck her dumb hm? Is that what you want?” His knee was rubbing your clit non stop, you could burst any second nodding desperately Bill without any hesitation removed his belt in one swift move, his jeans and boxers pool at his ankles letting his cock spring free.
Even though how many time you guys have fucked you could never get over how big he was. Bill swiped a finger at your folds his finger now coated with your arousal “I haven’t even done anything yet and your already wet for me doll you’re just that desperate aren’t you?” You couldn’t answer, He snickered without another warning he slammed into you then pulling back out fully before filling you up once again. You moaned loudly the way his cock fit your pussy was amazing, His hands made their way down to your waist gripping tightly bound to leave marks tomorrow. “Fuck Jesus you feel s’good around my cock love gonna fill this slutty hole with my cum” he groaned out.
Bill moved at a rapid pace his tip kissing your cervix perfectly moans were spilling out of you uncontrollably, you were in pure ecstasy, your walls clenched around him every time he hit that gummy spot the knot in your stomach growing tighter with each passing second “Mm Bill fuck fuck I’m close!” you breathed out he moved his hand down to your clit rubbing his thumb in fast circles, “Cum on this cock for me doll” he whispered you were about to break.
Those words were all you needed to hear, your legs shaking bringing you over the brink you screamed out his name cumming all over his cock, “Fuck baby that’s it” Bill let out a low growl before shooting his cum inside you thank god you were on the pill. He collapsed on top of you, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to your temple, “You okay my sweet girl? Did I go to rough?” he said in worry, you smiled “Yes billy I’m okay it was amazing” you replied.
“I’m sorry about the fight earlier Liebe you just mean to much to me and I can’t lose you ever I don’t know what I’d do” you were in awe “Billy you aren’t ever going to lose me I promise you that” you took his hand in yours and kissed him passionately you really did love him.
A/n:I hope you guys enjoyed! Me and @tomssexdoll worked really really hard on this, she did an amazing job. but I’m glad I’m writing again, I’m gonna try and write more mwah bye cuties <33
Taglist:
@itsmealaiah
@noellethinks
@jadedchar
@madzandmore
@memzyyy
@tomssexdoll
#tokio hotel#tom kaulitz#tokio hotel x reader#billkaulitz#georg listing#gustav schäfer#bill kaulitz smut
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Steve wasn’t exactly sure how he ended up here, but he wasn’t mad about it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with his colleagues, it was just the simple fact that most of them were his father’s age or older, and there was only so much they had in common before the conversation hit a wall. But the job at the firm was flashy and prestigious and exactly the thing Mr Harrington expected of his son, and it was where Steve found himself straight after college.
The days blurred into one as time passed. He would wake up, get dressed in the three piece suit that was laid out for him, grab his briefcase, drive to work, spend the day staring at documents until his eyes were dry, and then he would come home for dinner. It was like he was stuck on a loop, living the same day, one after the other until Steve could have sworn he was running on muscle memory alone.
He knew what the other men at the firm thought of him. A young, hot-shot who was just there on daddy’s merit and nothing else. Maybe that’s why Steve never really expected to have a relationship with any of his colleagues. Maybe that’s why he was surprised that after a year of working with them, they were inviting him on one of their fancy work nights out.
It was everything he expected. From the three hundred dollar steaks to the whiskey from a date long before he was born, from the talks of business deals to details about their personal lives he very much wished he didn’t know.
But what Steve wasn’t expecting was for the night to end at a fucking strip club.
“Enjoy it, kid,” one of the older men in the group said as he clapped him on the back, jostling him from his spot by the entrance. “Nobody is gonna say shit in here. We tip well.”
Steve could only nod in response.
He was tense and awkward but it was hard not to be. The men at the firm were pigs, cheering and hollering as they threw one dollar bills at the dancers like they were objects for their entertainment.
Steve guessed in an odd way they were.
But they were also people.
He had planted himself firmly by the bar, sipping on the same drink he had bought when they first entered the club over an hour ago. He tried to keep his eyes everywhere but the dancers on the stage, or even the workers in little-to-no clothing walking around the establishment.
He tried to remain respectful.
Then, you walked out onto the stage.
Steve didn’t even realise he was staring until your eyes caught his in the crowd. He had been enraptured by you, by the way you moved and the way you held yourself on stage. There were at least forty odd men loitered around the establishment, and yet, you were the one in control.
Your lips twitched when you noticed him staring. It wasn’t like the other patrons. He wasn’t ogling or leering at you like you were a piece of meat. He was looking at you like you were art.
His eyes stayed on you for your whole set. You watched some of your colleagues approach him as they weaved their way through the crowd for extra tips, but his eyes stayed firmly on you. You tried not to think about the way your stomach dipped in response.
Steve almost felt gutted when you walked off the stage. He felt a pang in his chest, his eyes eagerly trying to find where you went but you were gone. His eyes fell back to his half-drunken whiskey, thinking if he should just throw in the towel and call it a night, and head back home before the firm dragged him to another club.
Until the hair of the back of his neck rose when he felt a warm hand on his arm, his head turning to find you saddled up beside him.
Smiling at him.
“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, but all he could think was that you were there and you were even prettier up close, and fuck, you smelt so good.
“Hey, hi,” Steve cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink.
You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, watching the way Steve’s eyes fixated on the movement. He was sweet and he wasn’t like the other men here. He almost seemed innocent.
And you wanted to be the one who corrupted him.
“Would you like to go somewhere more private?”
The question lingered between you for a whole three seconds before he was quickly nodding his head, happily taking your hand as you began to guide him towards the rooms in the back. You never went there with any patrons from the club, but Steve was different.
The first thing Steve noted was how dark the room was. There were a few coloured lights dotted around, the red hue shining and engulfing every inch of your skin. It shouldn’t have made his cock stir in his pants the way it did, it shouldn’t have made his mouth dry.
“Champagne?”
The words had left his brain, leaving Steve to only nod in response.
You passed him the flute of champagne, the bubbles tinted red and the drink a little pink. It almost matched the colour of your lips. He let you take his other hand and guide him to the leather couch that took up the whole back wall of the room. He let you push his chest until he fell back, the liquid in his glass sloshing but neither of you caring.
“What do you do back here?” He asked, his voice low and rough. He almost felt like he should be whispering.
“Whatever you want,” you replied, a dark promise on your lips, and Steve realised he wanted all of them.
“Anything,” he breathed out.
His eyes were glued to you as you leaned over him, straddling his lap until you were pressed up against him and your faces were mere inches apart. The glass in his hand was long gone, clanking as it rolled off the couch and landed on the floor—but neither of you cared. His hands moved to your waist, large and warm and holding onto you like a fucking lifeline.
“Is this your first time here, baby?” You asked, your nose gently nudging his as you bit back your grin when you saw his eyes fluttering shut.
Steve nodded slightly.
Your smile became a little more dangerous. “You want me to make it memorable?”
“Please,” he rasped.
“Just relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his and a pained noise left his lips as you ground your hips against his. “Be a good boy f’me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whined before you finally pressed your lips against his, muffling the noises that he made.
The rooms were sound-proof and the music out on the main stage was loud enough to drown everything out, but a selfish part of you wanted to keep his noises all to yourself. You didn’t even know his name, you didn’t know anything about him.
But maybe that just made you want him more.
You tore your lips away from his, tracing a line of kisses along his cheek and down his jaw. You dipped your head to the junction of his neck, teeth scraping against his sensitive skin as his hips rutted up into you. The noises he was making were pathetic and needy and made the coil in the pit of your stomach tighten.
“Fuck, I—” Steve’s head rolled back, resting against the back of the couch as he squeezed your hips. “I’m gonna come.”
“Yeah?” You hummed in his ear, nipping his lobe as you rocked back and forth on his lap. You could feel his cock straining beneath the fabric of his slacks, could feel the way he was pulsing and desperate to come. “You gonna come for me? Gonna make a mess for me, baby boy?”
“Shit,” he hissed as his eyes fell shut, his mouth slack.
“That’s it, baby, that’s my boy,” you murmured, placing soft kisses along his cheek as he let out a pitiful whine when your grinding became too much.
You took pity on the boy, your fingers gripping his chin as you pulled him into one last kiss, your tongue lazily stroking against his before you pulled yourself off his lap. “You did good, baby.”
Steve blinked, a slight dazed look in his eyes as he stared up at you. “Wait, you didn’t—”
“You can make it up to me,” you said with a knowing smile on your face. “I’ll see you around, baby boy.”
And Steve could only watch as you walked out the room, jaw slack and hands itching to touch you once again. He wanted to know what you looked like, what you sounded like, what you tasted like when you came. Fuck, he wanted to know everything about you.
Even if he didn’t know your name.
.
#cece's smutober#steve harrington#stranger things#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#stranger things fic#stranger things one shot#stranger things smut
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Hello! I have a request!
Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?
:) I un-ironically love writing bjs
The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.
The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.
You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.
Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.
You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.
Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.
The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.
It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.
By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?
Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.
The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.
“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”
You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.
“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.
“Mhmm.”
You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”
To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.
“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”
The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”
He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.
“Soon, I just need to finish this.”
“Please?”
He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.
You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.
This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.
“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.
Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.
He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.
His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.
Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.
You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.
Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.
You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.
“I love you,” he mutters.
“I love you too Ken.”
After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.
“I have to get up.”
The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.
He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.
Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.
He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.
He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.
As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.
Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.
At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.
“Cracked, 130,” he calls.
You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.
A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.
“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”
Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?
All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?
You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.
You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.
Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.
He starts, “Are you-“
To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.
“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.
“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”
The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.
So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.
You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.
At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.
Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.
You could stay down here.
You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.
His voice from above makes another callout.
The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.
By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.
His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.
You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.
He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.
“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.
The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.
He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.
You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.
“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.
He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.
With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.
He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.
“Ugh, fuck- third party.”
The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.
You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.
“Down, he’s under and one shot.”
You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.
You tug and pull harmlessly.
“Hmm...”
Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.
He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”
The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.
Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.
You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.
His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.
You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.
Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.
“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”
You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.
This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.
If you wanted to play, he could too.
“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”
Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.
The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.
“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.
You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.
“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”
With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.
He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.
Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.
He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.
The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.
“Just like that,” he breathes.
“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.
His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.
One last look at your flushed features and-
He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.
You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.
Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.
You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.
You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.
“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.
. .
“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.
Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.
©️ hxltic
#this lowkey sucked#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#haikyuu hcs#haikyuu smut#god i want him so bad#kenma scenario#kozume kenma#haikyuu kenma#kenma smut#kenma headcanons#kenma hcs#kenma kuzome#kenma x reader#kenma x you#hq kenma#kenma imagine#kenma fanfic#kozume#kozume x reader#kozume x y/n#hq kozume#haikyuu kozume#kodzuken#kenma haikyuu#haikyuu kenma smut
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modern! ellie would be the type to get mad when you tell her you took your car in for an oil change. She’s be all: “i could have done it for you??” And when you tell her how much you paid for it?? she’d be seething she loves helping her pretty princess with her car
omg fjdjd this is so my hotneighbour!ellie …..
she catches you in the driveway when you’re arriving home and she’s all
“whats with the face?”
you pout, leaning against your car door and she smiles at the hello kitty dangler she can see swinging from your dashboard inside. “just went to the garage for an oil change. pretty much stripped my bank account, i hate going there.”
she stands up from the skateboard she was using to slide beneath her own car she was working on, frowning. “why? how much you pay?”
“440” you sigh and her eyes nearly come out of her head.
“how much— alright get in the car.” she walks around to your drivers seat, climbing inside and sitting down and you raise an eyebrow, never actually having sat in the passenger seat of your own car before.
“whats the matter?” you ponder, climbing in.
“oil changes should cost what, like $20? at the most… $150 but it’s unlikely.” she shakes her head angrily as she begins to drive. “such assholes. they only run up the money because you’re…” she trails off, deciding not to say what she wanted to.
“i’m what?” you frown and she looks around pointedly at the decorate seat covers, pink wheel and hello kitty dangler, raising a lazy hand in gesture.
“they can tell you… don’t really know jackshit about cars… no offence n’all. you’re a girly girl.” she explains and you pout thoughtfully, nodding.
“huh.”
“why didn’t you come to me? you know i’d do that shit for free, right?” she exasperates, turning to look at you as she drives. you’re in the middle of eyeing her in her dirty white wifebeater, hair stuck to the nape of her neck from sweat. your eyes snap back up to her and you sigh.
“i just didn’t wanna bother you with it, you know? you’ve got your own car to work on and… feels like m’taking advantage of you.” you furrow your brows and she shakes her head, raising a hand to cut you off.
“no, come on. next time you come to me, yeah?” she shoots you a serious look and you melt a little, nodding obediently. “good girl. don’t let these assholes screw with you like that.” she rasps under her breath and you have to take a moment to control yourself.
she pulls up, stepping out of your girly decorated car which is quite a funny sight, until of course you spot the look on her face as she steps up to a mechanic.
“who serviced this car?” she demands and the guy looks around dumbly.
“uh— jerry.” he points and ellie’s nodding him over, staring him down.
you then stand there as ellie forces him to recount each step of what he did to your car, calculating the cost it should be — $40.
“look, mix up’s happen—” the red faced man tried to explain but was cut off.
“a mix up? let me get this straight, slapping $400 on top of her bill is a mix up?” she paused for a beat, but didn’t wait for an answer when his mouth opened to jabber out an excuse. “refund.” she waves an arm, swaggering backwards from him to check on you, nervously stood by your car.
“uh— uh—” the man stuttered and ellie cut him off again.
“uh, uh—” she mocked and you nearly burst out laughing. “you gonna stand there with your mouth open or you gonna run the lady her money?”
you got your money back, and ellie still had a look at your car once you got home, rectifying the mechanics shabby mistakes (cursing and complaining about them the whole time, of course.)
“let me pay you. for all that. just a little bit please?” you plead, clasping your hands together as you stand over her, her legs hanging out from underneath your car as she checks everything beneath it. she slides out, squinting in the sunset up at you.
“nah.” she shakes her head, carelessly before pushing herself up, wiping her forehead with a rag. “c’n thank me by bringing me a glass of lemonade. how’s that sound?”
“i suppose that could work, my lemonade tastes pretty good.” you grin, sauntering off proudly to make her some. she watches you leave, eyes raking over you — wondering what else tastes good.
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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.
Crumb Together
Prompt Day 27: Coffee Shop AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Platonic Stobin, Coffee Shop/Bakery AU, Fluff, Steve POV
Steve is carefully filling the bakery case. He's been here since three a.m., and it's still a half-hour until opening, but at least he's on time and not behind schedule for once.
"Hey dingus, do we need more muffins?" Robin hollers, banging through the double-doors from the back to the front.
"No, I have enough, thanks so much," he snaps. He's snippy this morning, pretty mad she ever talked him into this whole coffee shop scheme. Sure, they're retail pros, but small business owners? He should have said no fucking way. But she was excited, and he wanted her to be happy. That’s always his downfall.
He's definitely re-thinking that now that they’ve completely lost their social lives by keeping these insane working and sleeping schedules. They only see each other, which isn't the worst thing in the world, other than the fact that he doesn't know the last time he's touched boobies. Or dick. He's not picky.
He needs to get laid, and he can’t do that stuck inside this coffee shop slash bakery hell with his best friend.
He's about to turn and sass her, when someone taps on the front door and he jumps, throwing a chocolate muffin up into the air, fumbling it around, before finally regaining control.
He didn't drop it, but it looks a little worse for wear. He can't sell it like this.
Well, fuck.
If he was a hired hand, he'd ignore the annoying tapper until the official opening time. Which is twenty-nine minutes from now. But as the owner, he puts down his tray and walks towards the door. They could use the paying customer, even if they’ve shown up way too early, like a rude asshole.
He looks, but he can't see anyone out there in the dark. Maybe he should ignore it.
He doesn't, instead he unlocks the door, and there's a guy standing there.
"Hey, nice catch," the guy says, smiling.
Steve forces a smile in return, "How can I help you?"
"I know you're not open yet, but I saw you in there juggling the muffins, and I'm on my way out of town and really need a cup of coffee. My coffee maker decided this was the morning to croak," he says, slashing his whole hand across his neck, making a throat-slitting motion.
He's rambling, like Robin.
Steve finds it a little cuter on him, than he does when Robin does it at this ungodly hour.
Steve sighs, and opens the door wider to let him inside, "You just want black coffee?"
"Please," the guy says.
"I'll have to brew it. It'll just take a minute."
"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, and Steve can see that he's looking at Steve's chest, looking for a name tag. But Steve's not wearing one. Because as the owner, he finally doesn't have to.
Robin is booting up the point-of-sale system, "Black coffee?" she repeats.
The guy nods.
"For?"
"Eddie," the guy answers.
"Good thing you asked him, I'd never know who to hand it to," Steve snarks at Robin, starting the coffee machine.
Eddie laughs.
Robin doesn't.
When it's done, Steve places the cup on the counter, and Robin immediately picks it up and writes Eddie's name on it.
Which, that's stupid. They all know it's Eddie's coffee. Then, Robin sacks up the slightly banged up muffin and hands it to Eddie.
"You scared him and caused him to squish it. So, it's yours. On the house!" she says, far too chipper for this time of morning.
"Thanks, I'll try to drop by and scare him more often," Eddie says, reading his name on his cup, grinning. Then Eddie slides a ten dollar bill across the counter, waving off his change.
As soon as the bell on the door jangles, signaling Eddie's departure, Robin turns and slaps Steve on the arm.
"What the hell? That cute boy wanted to flirt, and you totally dropped the ball, dingus!"
Steve scrunches up his forehead, "Huh?"
Robin just shakes her head, annoyed, and heads back towards the kitchen.
Is Steve so rusty that he missed flirting? Goddamnit.
Steve has just turned the front door lock, and flipped the sign to closed, when he hears his cell phone ringing somewhere in the distance. He follows the sound, and when he picks it up, it's a number he doesn't recognize. Great. More telemarketer bullshit.
He goes to swipe the decline button, when Robin shouts, "You better get that!"
He looks back at his phone and cautiously accepts the call, not knowing what the hell she's done now.
"Hello?"
"Is this Steve? From the coffee shop?"
"Yeah, this is Steve," Steve says, suspicious. He has no idea who he's talking to.
"Good, good. This is Eddie. From this morning. The coffee jerk that made you open early."
"Oh, uh, okay. Um…"
"How did I get this number?" Eddie asks, laughing.
"Yeah, that was what I was thinking," Steve admits.
"Well, somehow it ended up written on my coffee cup this morning, with your name and a time to call."
Steve shakes his head, Robin is such an asshole, but Steve smiles.
"Well, I'm not sure how that happened," Steve says, teasing back. Flirting.
"Big mystery," Eddie teases, "but since I've got you on the phone, would you like to grab dinner or drinks. Coffee?"
"No coffee," Steve laughs, "but yes. To the other two, for sure. But be forewarned, I eat really early. Like an old person. Early bird specials are my jam. And I go to bed by nine. Eight-thirty if I can get away with it. I gotta be here by three to get ready to open this place."
He's learned to get that info out of the way, early.
"Well, that sounds perfect. I get up at four to get to my jobsite. I'm in construction," Eddie says.
Steve smiles, it's been a while since anyone has understood his schedule.
"So, dinner? Four-thirty or five?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕
If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!
#steddieholidaydrabbles#coffee shop au#bakery au#modern au#meet cute#steddie#steddie ficlet#eddie munson#steve harrington#robin buckley#platonic stobin#stranger things#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles
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Chapter 32 of human Bill is convinced he's the best prisoner ever and does not deserve this abuse from the Pines:
Bill gets his fingernails painted! 💅🌈✨ Look at his fingernails, I drew this week's picture just to show them off. They're fun.
Bill also gets bound to a magic poppet that can control his every move.
It's hilarious for Dipper and Mabel, but not for Bill.
The early morning still was broken by Stan's wails of despair.
At some point during the night, the egg-and-toilet-papering kids had come back to Stan's car.
And they'd brought rocks.
####
Bill woke up with a sheet tossed over him and a cupcake sitting on the window seat. The cupcake was pink with green frosting and decorated like a happy jack-o'-melon. It was sitting on top of a note:
"Sorry I didn't mention I had plans tonight! Robbie's mom made cupcakes for everyone so I grabbed you one. The music video's gonna be AMAZING! I'll show you when Robbie posts it!" Mabel had signed with a shooting star.
Bill decided he hadn't been mad at Mabel last night at all.
He battled gravity to heave himself vertical, trudged downstairs to the bathroom, stuck his face under the faucet until his mouth tasted less like sour sandpaper, agonizingly dragged himself back upstairs to his makeshift bed, and collapsed under the sheet to wait until his head stopped hammering.
####
Sprawled on the living room floor, Mabel said, "What should I draw?"
"Draw me." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, watching the news and nursing a glass of Mabel juice. In an effort to counteract the lingering queasiness from overdosing on sugar and chocolate, he'd spiked the juice with two ground-up Elderly 60+ Vitaman™ brand Man Vitamins (khaki flavor) stolen from a bottle that Ford had bought for Stan and that Stan forgot to take.
"Okay!" Mabel turned around and squinted up at Bill. "Strike a pose!"
"Not like this!" Bill shoved a hand in Mabel's face to force her to stop looking. "Draw me how I really look."
"Bill, that's illegal. Remember?" Mabel pointed at the TV. Bodacious T was reporting on a child who'd dressed up for Summerween as "that weird out-of-towner who bothered us last year, you know the one," and who, under the Never Mind All That Act, had been fined fifty pieces of candy. The child's mugshot showed his crying face, but blurred out his yellow costume.
"He'd be the coolest kid in town," Bill said, "if he wasn't such a crybaby in front of the cops. Draw me anyway."
"I don't wanna get arrested!"
"Do you see any cops?" Bill grinned. "Just don't sign your name, nobody will know it was you."
Mabel considered that. "I can sign it someone else's name." She pulled out a few crayons.
"That's what I'm talking about! Do anything you want forever and frame the innocent!"
"What do you want me to draw you doing?"
"The coolest thing you can think of."
Mabel considered that, and got to work.
The news was boring now. They were talking about the weather, and it wasn't even interesting weather. "So hey, you were gonna tell me about filming last night?"
"Oh yeah!" Mabel said. "Did I mention the part where the dead rose from their graves?"
Bill muted the TV. "And I missed it?"
Robbie had decided the cemetery at his place would be more atmospheric than the trick-or-treater-filled streets (and less likely to have their shots ruined by passersby that didn't appreciate the depth of Robbie's lyrics). It went great, until the vibrations of angsty rock-and-roll stirred the slumbering corpses and they clawed their way from their graves. It turned out Gravity Falls had been having off-and-on invasions of the undead for the past year, ever since somebody decided to reanimate every corpse in town for fun, Bill.
"You can't prove it was me, I'm not the only one who knows how to raise the dead!" Bill laughed. "Hey—you're not drawing this body, are you? You said you wouldn't."
"I'm not, I promise!"
"Then why do you keep staring at me?"
"Um."
"Let me see!"
"No! Don't ruin the surprise!" Mabel picked up a glitter pen with feathers glued to the end and waved them in Bill's face. "And no cheating with your eye-bleeding psychic magic!"
Bill smacked the pen away. "Fine! So what did you do with the zombies? Feed one of the teens to them?"
"No! I chewed like four packs of gum me and Dipper got from the weird homeless dentist and made a fake baby brain. We used it as bait to lead them into an open grave," Mabel said. "And then we realized we could use the brain to train them to do tricks! So now we have dancing zombies in the music video. They actually learned the choreography pretty easily."
"Makes sense," Bill said. "I did fill the space where their souls should be with an insatiable hunger to party."
Mabel grinned. "I thought you said they weren't your fault."
"If they're good at dancing, I'm taking credit!"
"They were pretty good—especially considering how many limbs they were missing," Mabel said. "I'll show you when Robbie's finished editing the video."
"And I'll get to see you playing a creepy ghost kid, right?"
"Yeah! We were the greatest ghosts ever! Check it out, we were like—" Mabel fixed Bill with a dead-eyed slack-jawed stare and whisper-sang, "'We're the things that you have lost. Childhood joy, dead as a ghost.'"
"Chills."
"Dipper tried so hard to get in character as a ghost that he completely zoned out for a minute! When we shook him out of it, he said he felt like he had an out-of-body experience!"
####
At his computer, Robbie clicked play on a clip of the twins standing side-by-side in front of the cemetery gate. As they sang the chorus, Dipper's face went still; and then a spectral gray form rose out of his head, still singing in sync with Mabel.
"Whoa," Robbie said. "Sick. I'm keeping that in."
####
"So, it turns out my bro is an expert method actor," Mabel boasted.
Bill thought back to Dipper drifting up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. "Yep. Sounds like he's got quite a talent."
Mabel set down her crayons and held out a paper. "Okay—what do you think?"
Bill accepted the drawing. "Am I riding on the back of a rocket ship?"
"Like a bucking bronco! See the rocket flames doing a loop?"
"Sure do. Why am I holding a fish bowl?"
"It's like a cowboy waving his hat, but, you're in space. So that's your astronaut helmet."
"It's beautiful," Bill said intensely. "It's the best thing I've ever seen."
"Aw, really? Thanks!"
"When I take over the universe, I'm rearranging the constellations to look like this."
"Don't do that, though."
"Fine, but I'm hanging it up in my throne room." Bill set down his empty glass so he could hold the picture with both hands, beaming at it as proudly as though he'd made it himself. Big change from his lukewarm reception of her house drawing yesterday. She should draw Bill more often. Being a good artist meant understanding what your audience wanted.
Unfortunately, now that she'd finished her drawing, she didn't have anything to distract her from staring at Bill. And she'd taken about as much of seeing him as she could stand. "Bill. I say this with non-judgmental love. But you look sooo terrible."
"Yeah, I know. I think I'm shaped about as nicely as a human could ask for," he pantomimed drawing a triangle in front of his torso, "but let's be real, there's only so much you can do when you're working with a human bone structure. And there's way too much neck—"
"No! Bill, your body is beautiful just the way it is, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I meant your hair looks awful."
Bill had taken a shower yesterday morning, emerged with his hair all wet and tangled, and done absolutely nothing to detangle it. And then, with it still half damp and totally disheveled, he'd shoved it under a cheap acrylic wig for the rest of the night. And then he'd fallen asleep on the floor still wearing the wig.
And now, with the wig removed, his hair looked like a bird had plucked out half a scarecrow's straw brains and made a nest out of it.
"It sure does," Bill said, with the slightly forlorn air of someone complaining about a war in a far-off country over which one had no power.
"So brush it!"
"No. Never. You can't make me."
"Why not? I thought you wanted to keep your hair all triangly!"
"Not enough to touch it. Either it'll figure out how to straighten out on its own or it won't, I'm not messing with it. I've got enough going on in my life today." By which he meant he had the last lingering traces of a hangover, which was a valid excuse to get out of all social, moral, and aesthetic obligations.
Mabel groaned in frustration. "I can't take looking at it anymore! If you won't brush it, can I?"
Bill gave her a skeptical look; but then he flung his hands out dismissively. "Sure, why not? If it bothers you so much. Have at it."
"I'll be right back!"
She got her brush from upstairs and a spray bottle from the kitchen, and directed Bill to sit on the floor so she could get on the couch behind him. After making such a fuss about brushing his hair, Bill was surprisingly well-behaved with somebody else brushing it for him. He didn't even complain when Mabel accidentally yanked on some nasty snarls a little harder than she meant to.
"I feel like a corpse getting prettied up for my funeral," Bill said. "Grooming each other is how humans bond, isn't it? This is one of your little social rituals? If all you wanted was to make sure we're still friends after you ditched me last night, you could have just asked."
Mabel shoved her foot between Bill's shoulder blades. Wise guy. She joked, "Yeah! We're bonding now! After this we're gonna paint each other's fingernails and talk about what kind of boys we like."
"I want rainbow spiral fingernails."
Mabel really should be used to this—but she still kept getting surprised that Bill was interested in the stuff she liked. And not even in a patronizing sure-I'll-play-along way. He'd turned to look at her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He really wanted rainbow spiral fingernails.
And now she wanted rainbow spiral fingernails, too. "Fine! But look forward until I finish your hair." One way or another, Mabel vowed, she would reform Bill into a proper good guy—even if she had to drag him there kicking and screaming. Fun dress-up partners were hard to find, and she couldn't afford to lose Bill.
####
Soos wandered to the living room to find somewhere to hang up his and Melody's "Best Couple Cosplay" award, but stopped in the doorway.
Bill, Mabel, and Waddles were sitting on the floor, watching some kind of cartoon psychedelic fairy princess lecture a spider on the importance of colors, with a bowl of popcorn between them. Bill and Mabel both had bright multicolor fingernails and were eating the popcorn with chopsticks to avoid touching their nails. There was more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl. Waddles had taken no such cares to avoid dragging his freshly painted hooves through the carpet.
"Truth or dare," Bill said.
"Dare!"
"Dare you to assassinate the..." Bill trailed off. "I can't have the mayor assassinated, he runs Rainbow Club. And the sheriff and deputy invited me... There aren't a lot of public officials in this dumb town, are there?"
"I'm not killing anybody, Bill. Truth."
"Fine, coward. What's your favorite toxic fume fragrance?"
"That's easy! Gasoline!"
"Hey, mine too! At least on this planet. It smells like—you know that smell that heralds the coming of rain? Gasoline is the smell that heralds a really fun time."
"Yeah! Like going on a road trip!"
Bill paused. "Right! I was... I was definitely thinking about road trips. That's exactly what I meant."
Mabel added, "And it looks so cool when there's a little bit spilled in a parking spot—"
"The rainbow puddles! Yes! Big fan of the rainbow puddles—"
"I love parking lot rainbow puddles! It's like surprise happiness in the most boring place on the planet!"
Soos mumbled, "Girl talk," decided to hang his award up later, and left.
####
Dipper heard the bedroom door open and Mabel call, "Hey Dipper!"
"Hey." He didn't look up from his journal, where he was documenting last night's zombie adventures. "Oh, hey, bad news—Wendy said she got a text from Robbie, it sounds like all the footage from the cemetery last night is ruined?"
"Aww! What? But we worked so hard to train those zombies!"
"Yeah, it's just static. But everything we shot outside the gates is fine. I wonder if it's something supernatural that interferes with electronics?"
"Something supernatural? In the cemetery? Full of zombies? What are the odds of that!" Mabel laughed. "But heyyy, I've got some good news!"
"What?"
Mabel stuck a hairbrush full of gold hair between Dipper's face and his journal. "I got a replacement for the Bill hair sample we gave Pacifica!" She grinned and whispered, "Wanna make a poppet?"
####
It would have been really cool if the first full moon of summer vacation had come on Summerween. But the calendar gods were unkind that year, and instead, it came the next day, on June 23.
Which worked out, in the end, since it meant they didn't have any scheduling conflicts on the one night they could make a poppet.
They had the ritual space set up in their bedroom—a chalk star drawn on the floor with a black candle at each point—and the doll representing Bill—which Mabel had upgraded with button eyes and a miniature version of his favorite knit hoodie. They collected all the shed blonde strands off Mabel's hairbrush, wrapped them around the doll's neck, and tied them on. They set the doll in the center of the star; Bartholomew talked them through the ritual; the flames on the candles leaped a foot in the air, turned a pale blue, and then went out; and the binding ritual was complete. The doll was now connected to Bill Cipher.
"Weird," Bartholomew said. "Usually the flames turn black. I've never seen them turn blue before."
Dipper said, "That's not a problem, is it?"
"No, no. I've just never used the binding ritual on an alien before! I guess it works a little different!"
Dipper picked up the doll and eyed it skeptically. "Mabel, I know we said we're saving this for emergencies only, but—maybe we should test it out just to make sure it actually works?"
"I guess we should," Mabel said, grimacing. "Just—don't do anything that'd hurt him. Okay?"
Yeah, Dipper should've expected that. Whether he liked it or not, Mabel didn't just see Bill as her weird experiment in criminal rehabilitation—she saw him as her friend. He sighed. "Okay. But is it fine if we do something that would embarrass him?"
Mabel shrugged. "I don't see why not!"
####
As they crept from their room, Mabel whispered, "What if we stick him in a box and shake it up? And then tell him there was an earthquake!"
"I thought you were the one who didn't want to hurt him."
"Oh right."
Bill wasn't on his cushions under the window, so they crept downstairs. Halfway down, Dipper stopped, putting a hand on Mabel's arm. Bill was sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, staring out the window.
"This is perfect," he whispered. "He's completely vulnerable. He's got his back to us, he's looking at the moonlight—even if he turns around, he won't see us because his eyes will have to readjust to the dark."
"I don't know if his eyes need to adjust," Mabel said. "Have you ever noticed he never turns the lights on when he goes into a room?"
Dipper considered that. He hadn't noticed—but now that Mabel mentioned it, Bill did have a tendency to lurk in the dark. "Well—okay, but he's still not looking at us. Let's see how this works..." He studied the doll; then turned it around and gently brushed a finger through its yarn hair.
For a moment, nothing happened; and then Bill swatted at the back of his head and looked around, as if he was trying to find what had touched him.
"I think it's working," Dipper hissed.
"Are you sure? What if there's actually a fly in the kitchen?"
Could be. "Let me see if it can control him."
"Careful—"
Dipper grabbed one of the doll's arms and tentatively lifted it.
Bill's arm shot up. He stared at it in bafflement. "Wh...?"
Mabel bit her lip. Dipper waved the doll's arm.
Bill's arm waved. After a pause, he tentatively asked, "Hello?" As if he thought maybe his arm was waving at someone and he should play along with it.
Mabel and Dipper clapped their hands over their mouths, fighting to keep their giggles quiet. Mabel elbowed Dipper, "Hey Dipper Dipper Dipper, get him to stand up, let me control his legs, I have the best idea—"
Bill knocked over his chair and had to flail his arms for balance as he abruptly jerked to his feet. He looked around, eyes wide and wild, an edge of panic to his voice as he hollered, "WHAT'S GOING ON!"
Dipper held the doll out to Mabel. "Okay hurry!" Mabel took it by the legs—
—and Bill started doing the cancan. He shrieked. "WHAT?!"
Dipper shoved his shirt over his mouth to muffle his hysterics. Mabel was letting little wheezy squeaks out through her nose. Bill's voice was almost an octave higher as he screamed, "WHEN I FIND OUT WHO'S BEHIND THIS, I'M GONNA SHRED YOU—" and they both got so close to bursting laughing out loud that they had to pause to punch each other's shoulders for self control.
Still holding one of the doll's legs up, Mabel hissed, "Dipper do you remember the bottle dance. Where they crouch down with bottles on their heads. Can we—can we get a tiny bottle for the doll—"
Bill was failing both arms to avoid falling with one foot held in the air. He grabbed the counter for balance. And then, with a grunt of effort, he wrenched his foot down and stomped it to the ground.
The doll's leg yanked out of Mabel's hand.
Dipper and Mabel fell silent, staring at the doll. They looked at each other. Mabel whispered, "It shouldn't be able to do that, right?"
They looked at Bill.
Bill's face was burning red, and he was so far past fury that his expression was perfectly blank. His eyes were huge, and round, and pointed straight at them.
They bolted up the stairs.
Bill charged after them.
They screamed in terror. They weren't loud enough to drown out Bill: "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU BRATS—"
Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm. "Dipper, do something!"
"Uhh—!" He tossed the doll in the air and caught it.
They heard an alarmed yelp as Bill was launched in the air and then a crash as he landed on the stairs again.
They scrambled into their room and slammed the door. "Safe!" Mabel said.
"Yeah," Dipper said, panting for breath. "Can't get us here."
The doll's head twisted 180 degrees to stare up at them.
They yelped. Dipper tossed the doll to Mabel. Mabel held it out at arm's length, threw it in her nightstand's drawer, and slammed it. It tried to open again and she leaned against it with her full body weight. "Dipper, the duct tape! In my craft supplies!"
"Which craft supplies?!"
The tiny knocking inside the drawer was echoed by the pounding at the door, accompanied by a string of creative death threats: "—and when I'm finished the coroner won't know which corpse was which! I'll make a belt out of your spinal columns—!"
"We didn't do anything," Mabel shouted, "it wasn't our fault!" She took the duct tape from Dipper and frantically wrapped it around the night stand. Dipper added, "It was someone else! And we'll never do it again—"
Sleepy and muffled, Soos's voice drifted through the door, "Dudes? What's all the hubbub?"
Dipper and Mabel gasped, "Soos!" "Save us!"
His voice the perfect tone of righteous indignation, Bill declared, "I'm being assaulted, that's what!"
Stan's voice joined in from downstairs: "BILL! If you don't leave those kids alone I'll cave your nose in!"
"THEY'RE THE AGGRESSORS," Bill screamed, half hysterical. "They are! I'm the victim here! I'm being victimized!"
Stan shouted, "Kids, good work! Bill, you can go to—" He grumbled as he self-censored, "—sleep! Shut up and go to sleep!"
"You can go jump in the bottomless pit, Stanley Pines! I'll tear you all apart with my teeth if I have to! NOBODY in this stupid junk heap of a shack is getting any sleep until I get my—"
From just outside the attic door, Stan roared, "BILL!"
There was a dull thud as Bill leaned against their door; a lot less shouty, he quickly said, "I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed, I'm going to bed."
"That's what I thought," Stan snapped. The kids heard his footsteps retreating downstairs. Soos said, "Um... night," and his door shut. After a moment, there was the creak of footsteps retreating from the attic door.
Dipper and Mabel slowly, softly snuck across the room to the door, and pressed their ears to the crack. No sound.
They stayed there for several minutes, barely breathing, listening to the silence.
Finally, Mabel pulled away and looked at Dipper. They both nodded, and Dipper opened the door a crack to check if the coast was clear.
Bill's eye stared in. "Hey, kids!"
They yelled. Dipper tried to slam the door; but Bill had already shoved his hand through. Fingernails painted with neon colors and black spirals clawed at the doorframe. He shouldered through the gap in the door, and then he was in the room, smiling much too wide and eyes fixed on them like helicopter spotlights on two wanted criminals. There was blood on his teeth. "Wow! Playing with poppets?"
Dipper upturned his suitcase and held it up like a shield. Mabel pointed a can of spray paint at Bill's face. Bill took a step closer and they took a step back.
"Pretty advanced trick for a couple of children your age," Bill said conversationally. "Not bad, not bad at all. Heck, I'm impressed you pulled it off! Although you didn't make a very smart choice of test subject." He stomped a foot twice.
Something in the nightstand thudded twice. The twins jumped. Bill laughed at them.
Mentally cursing himself for having flinched, Dipper straightened his back and glared at Bill. "You're just mad you got jerked around like a puppet! What's the matter, Bill—you can dish it but you can't take it?" Mabel looked at Dipper like he was crazy.
Bill's indulgent smile cracked, dropping into a snarl of rage. He shifted his weight toward them. Mabel dropped into a judo stance and Dipper sucked in a breath to shout for Stan.
Before anyone could launch a full attack, Mabel took a shaky breath in, forced a nervous smile, and said, "Bill, hey..." (His eyes snapped to her face like a predator that just heard a twig snap.) "This was—just a funny prank, and we're all cool? Right?"
"Mabel," Dipper muttered. "Shhh!"
But Mabel kept looking at Bill. "Right? Buddies?" She held up her arm, showing Bill her friendship bracelet.
Bill stopped and rocked back on his heels. He gave Mabel a long, hard look—like he was seriously considering whether to accept the reality she was inventing. "Yeah. Real funny." Smiling through grit teeth, he said, "You know—it's been a while since I've had my energy strung between two vessels. I didn't even know what that experience felt like for a human! Very interesting. Educational. And it was nice to feel weightless again for a second. Even if the landing was a little rough." He licked the blood off his teeth. One of the teeth shifted. "So—thanks so much for spicing up a boring night. It's been a real blast. Hasn't it." He stared at them like he expected an answer—and possibly like he planned to strangle whoever answered first.
Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper shook his head slightly. Mabel looked Bill in the eyes again. "Yeah! Big blast. So, you're not... mad. Right? Nobody's mad!"
Bill stared her down for a moment longer; and then said, "Sure, kid! It's all fun and games!" He forced a laugh—and then another, longer one, hahhh, like he was exhaling all his rage. And just like that, he was back to normal. "I'll admit it—for a second there, you almost got me good! Not bad at all." He held out his hand insistently. "And now the game's over, so you're gonna give me that toy so I can neutralize it. Aren't you?"
Dipper bit his lip, looking past Bill toward the stairs. He could yell for Stan; there was no way Bill could kill them before reinforcements got here—
Mabel elbowed Dipper's side and whispered, "We can't keep it."
And she was right. Now that Bill knew about the doll, he'd be spending all his time plotting how to get past them to take it, and they wouldn't have a second's peace. Either he got it now, or he got it later. Bill wouldn't rest until the doll was out of their hands.
Because he was terrified of it. Why wouldn't he be?
"Yeah," Dipper sighed. "Game over."
"I'll get it." Mabel peeled just enough duct tape off the night stand to wiggle it open a crack and try to squeeze her fingers in. Bill stretched his hand toward Mabel, and the doll stretched an arm out of the drawer. Mabel flinched in surprise, but grabbed the arm and yanked the doll free.
"Ow." Bill grabbed his shoulder and rolled it gingerly. "Careful, kid, are you trying to dislocate my arm? I don't mind popping it back in, but eventually that socket's gonna wear out."
"Sorry! It was a tight squeeze." She held the doll over Dipper's suitcase shield. "Here."
Bill snatched it from her hand. "Thanks a million, star girl." He favored them both with his most nearly-charming, far-too-wide smile. "Good night, kiddos. Have sweet dreams."
"You too," Mabel said weakly.
Bill left. Dipper shut the door. He and Mabel both heaved a sigh of relief.
From the loft over the attic, Bartholomew called, "Is he gone?"
"What are you doing up there?" Mabel asked. "Barty-mew-mew the scaredy-cat."
"I'm not fighting that guy, I'm porcelain and he's crazy."
Dipper flopped on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Welp. I'm gonna have nightmares about Bill chasing me up the stairs."
Mabel sat on her own bed. "He just wanted to terrify us. And to keep us from seeing we'd terrified him." She fingered the star beads on her friendship bracelet. "He wouldn't have hurt us, I'm sure of it."
"Wh—seriously? You don't think Bill—"
"I know! But he's changed a tiny bit! He'd hurt anyone else, but he won't hurt us," Mabel said. "Or—well, me, at least. But I think he'll leave you alone too if I'm with you!"
Dipper pushed himself up on his elbows to look at her. "If he'd caught us on the stairs, do you really think he wouldn't have tried to tear us apart?"
Mabel considered that; and then reluctantly admitted, "He wouldn't hurt me as long as he remembers he doesn't want to hurt me."
"Yeah, well. I wouldn't count on him remembering when he's mad." Dipper slid under his covers and rolled over. "Barty, can you get the lights?"
"Sure, one second." All the lights and lamps in the room flickered ominously; and then, with a sinister pop, snapped off without being touched.
"Thanks, man."
Mabel didn't climb into bed. She was staring at her fingernails. She'd painted them the same colors as Bill's; but she'd used a black marker to draw spirals on his, and he'd drawn stars and sloppy tiger stripes on hers. In the dark, the colors were all faded.
This time, just once, maybe she and Dipper were the bad guys. He might disagree—he'd actually been puppeted, maybe he saw this differently from Mabel—but that probably didn't make it okay to do it back to Bill just for fun. They should've saved the poppet for an emergency. And the cancan, she decided, was definitely too much.
She smoothed out her covers; then she pulled up her knees to her chest, hugged them, and stared thoughtfully down at Bill's face in the middle of her zodiac blanket.
####
In the dark and quiet of the downstairs bathroom, Bill sat cross-legged on the toilet lid. He held the doll in his cupped hands. Soon, he'd disassemble it—but not yet. Tonight, it was his tool. He shut his eyes and focused on it.
There was the thinnest thread of energy, channeled through his shed hair, connecting this doll to him. He studied the thread, feeling it in his mind, exploring it, strengthening it—until he could almost feel it tugging on him.
And then he started psychically groping for similar connections.
He set the doll on the floor, on top of the drawing Mabel had given him.
His other eyes—the billions of depictions of his face scattered across this planet—weren't meant to be used in this dimension. They were designed like windows he could peer through from the Nightmare Realm; here on Earth, he was on the wrong side of the windows to see through them. And he wouldn't be surprised if the Axolotl had somehow found a way to blindfold them on top of that—after all, he seemed to have done the same to most of Bill's other abilities.
But Bill was resourceful, he was stubborn, and he didn't have anything better to do.
He focused all his energy on trying to feel the drawing the same way he felt the doll, searching for a connection between this body and that face—and he searched, and searched, and searched.
He wasn't sure how long he tried. At least a couple of hours. Straining, straining—for nothing. His head hurt.
What was the difference? The doll was shaped like him, the drawing was shaped like him. What did the doll have that the drawing didn't?
The hair. A bit of his flesh.
Bill knelt over the picture, studying it in the dark. He opened an eye wide, wiped a fingertip across the surface of his eyeball to collect his tears, and pressed it to the drawing's eye.
He could feel a thread of energy stringing from his eye to the paper.
He climbed back on the toilet lid, shut his eyes, and focused on that thread. With an effort that threatened to split his head in two, he pried open his inner eye. And then he was staring up at his own human form from the drawing on the floor.
His body was shaking. His head was throbbing. He wobbled dizzily on the toilet; and as he saw himself topple off, his trance broke, the vision disappeared, and he blacked out. White spots burst behind his eyes.
When he next opened an eye, the room was spinning. He shut his eye. It was several minutes before he could sit up without being sick. He leaned against the wall and let the sweat on his forehead and cheek soak the old wallpaper.
The white spots he'd seen as he passed out were his distant all-seeing eyes.
He'd done something tonight. That was good. But there was no way he was seeing through any other pictures like that. He needed something he could focus his power through, like an antenna.
He needed gold.
####
(Last chapter of the year!! If you enjoyed, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts & comments! Thanks!)
#bill cipher#human bill cipher#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls fic#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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Romance is Dead - By Alice (7/10)
The most beautiful woman in the land. Sensual scandal after sensual scandal. Her fiance could take it no more. He truly loved his cheating fiance, so he tormented her. He demanded reparations for their annulled wedding expenses. Her family disowned her. Five years pass, and yes, Romance is Dead.
This is a story about obsession, but it focuses on female friendships and the reality of romance more.
Luce Granzia and Felix were a fairy tale love story. A woman from a lower family, and one of the highest men. They were deeply in love. His love was going to give her power just under the royal family. She was smart, classy, and pretty.
Then Felix saw the letters. His beautiful fiance has been sleeping with every rich man in court. These men are willing to testify. Thirty or more claim to have slept with her. The letters are in her handwriting. The rumors are explosive.
Felix completely shuts down. He takes his revenge. He hires the best lawyer. He doesn't want her in jail. No. Felix wants her to pay back every penny. Every gift. Every dress. Every flower at their wedding venue. She has to pay it all back. Her family has to pay it all back.
Her family dumps her quickly, so they don't get stuck with the bill.
5 years pass.
Luce covers her face. She dresses plainly. She works at a research center, because she was always smart. Before she got married she got many job offers. She took on a tough job to pay back her dowry debt.
Her new best friend is Sasha.
He knows everything about her.
Did Sasha write those letters?
No.
He followed her out of the capital. He's obsessed with her. She's his first love. He has dedicated five years to clearing her name. He's not a nice guy, but the real culprit is obvious.
Felix was from a rich family. It was clear from the start that his relatives were behind the scandal. Only a family with a ton of money could have pulled it off.
Sasha blames himself, because he secretly has royal blood. He could have saved Luce Granzia. He could have done it easily. He wanted to save his first and only love, but he didn't. The culprit behind the scandal threatened to expose his secret identity. He had to put his duty to the royal family before Luce.
It's nuts but he pretended to be a commoner for 5 years just so he could stay by her side, befriend her, and comfort her.
There are plenty of sympathetic and aspirational female characters in this one.....but they have nothing to do????
This is Leonie. Felix's new fiance.
Leonie defends Luce. She can see Felix's madness, and she's only marrying him out of convenience. Leonie knows Felix is disgusted by women and love now, after Luce betrayed him. It doesn't matter to her. She loves her 8 cats more than she will ever love her husband.
She befriends Luce.
Luce is called to the royal capital by the prince, to finally have her name cleared.
It's all a long game plot from Sasha's head. He practically forces his family to step in and help Luce, after he uses other means to confirm her innocence.
She's not some evil harlot. Felix was blinded by rage. His greedy relatives were behind it all.
Sadly the cool female characters we meet are never part of the main plot. It feels like a waste...and the romance starts to feel like an afterthought too.
More friends come back into the picture. Some people aren't nice. Some people come back to support Luce too late. Some have grown up and found the confidence to finally support their old friend.
The real high point of the story is a crowd of women in puffy petticoats. They cancel their tea party as soon as Luce arrives, and they storm the evidence lab! Demanding to see the evidence about Luce's case. Some of the women are just curious, but most of them want to see her name cleared. A couple of women, who believed the rumors, properly apologize when the truth comes out.
It's all very heartwarming and realistic.
Felix tells Luce everything. He started drinking during her trial. He hasn't felt truly attracted to a woman since she left. His fiance is nothing to him. He secretly asked for updates about her, while she was working in the lab. He threw himself into his work, because the joy had been sucked out of his daily life.
He never slept.
He had nightmares.
It's not enough.
Luce tells him the harsh truth.
She suffered way more than he did, and he never even tried to visit her. His thoughts and prayers do not matter, and she has made a new life.
She's in love with Sasha now, but she doesn't know he's part of the royal family. She doesn't know he could have chosen to save her all those years ago.
Romance is Dead for Sasha too. It seems like he intendes to live as a servant of the royal family, because he was an unwanted child??? As payment for them helping Luce. He feels too guilty to be by her side as well....because he did manipulate her.
Sasha was the one who reopened her case. After she paid her debt he didn't let her move on with her life, because he was so obsessed with reclaiming her lost honor.
He could have let her be happy, with him, but he feels too guilty to accept her love.
This is a very bitter story. Sometimes, obsession makes the object of your love feel very far away. Not human. More ideal than person.
Luce just wanted to marry and be happy, but because of her status as The Most Beautiful her youth was plunged into misery.
The men who adore her aren't even interested in her happiness. They just want her to be pure and well-respected. Which she deserves! She absolutely deserves her place in high society. She never cheated on her fiance, but she could have been happy. She could have moved on, but Sasha would not allow it.
#yandere#male yandere#yandere male#yandere boy#recommendations#recs#rec#recommended#webtoon#Romance is Dead
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knights in leather jackets - biker!bucky x reader
Plot: Stuck in a dead end job at an ice cream parlour, Y/N dreams of something new in her life, especially when a biker’s charity meet and ride comes to town. And then, she meets Bucky.
Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Warnings: Y/N’s boss being an ass and a bully, verbal abuse and some violence and threats. Biker!Bucky is also very much a flirt in this, and likes using doll as his petname (yes, he’s a warning, hahaha). As always if I miss any triggers, let me know.
Notes: This was inspired by a biker’s meet that happened near me, and also because I’ve always liked these kind of stories. This is not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.
Gazing out of the window, Y/N drifts into a dreamworld. A local biker group is holding their annual charity meet and ride in her city, meaning that the streets surrounding the ice cream parlour she works in are full of motorbikes, and that the sound of engines continues to fill the air. She’s already served a few of them so far tonight, but the crowd has died down. Thankfully for Y/N, it means she can stare out of the window to her heart’s content, watching and listening to all the bikers.
“Hey, earth to Y/N. I don’t pay you to stand around looking like an idiot.” Her boss snaps, pulling her out of her trance. “Oh, please tell me you’re not staring at them.” He huffs.
“And who exactly is ‘them’?” She asks warily.
“Those stupid bikers.”
“It’s for charity!” She exclaims. “And besides, they’ve been great for business! I already sold a bunch of ice cream to them.”
“I don’t give a shit! Could be for world peace for all I care. I hate those things.” Honestly, Y/N wishes she could say that she was surprised by her boss’ reply. But she’s been working for this asshole for so long, and been screamed at by him so many times that she’s used to his awful attitude by this point. “They just make too much noise, and they’re bad news. I wouldn't allow them to be here if I had my way.”
“Thank fuck you’re not in charge, then.” She mutters, rolling her eyes. If she could, she would’ve left this shitty job months ago and never looked back. Unfortunately for her, bills need to be paid, and nobody else wants to hire her, so it looks like she’s going to be stuck here, with her shitty boss, for the rest of her life.
Another roar of an engine sounds from outside, and Y/N sighs. She’d love to be like the bikers, driving all over the country without a care in the world. The wind in her hair, free to do whatever and go wherever she wanted… that would be perfect.
“I’m going for a break.” Her boss snaps, walking out and slamming the door behind him. The sound reverberates throughout the room, sending a shockwave through her entire body. Clenching her fist, she tries to calm down.
God, she hates this fucking place.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
About half an hour later, Y/N is checking on something through the back when the chimes above the door sound, signalling the arrival of another customer. Before going back out, she takes a moment to brace herself. It could also mean her boss is back, ready to get mad at her for something else that isn’t her fault.
Thankfully for Y/N, when she goes back out to the front, the only person standing there is another biker. Dressed all in black, including the sunglasses perched on his head, he looks out of place against the bright colours of the ice cream parlour. Coupled with his extremely muscular physique and the biker patches on his jacket, he looks like the stereotypical bad boy in a movie, the one who comes in to lead the heroine astray and drive her to trouble. But she doesn’t care about that. She’s just happy that she has a moment of freedom from her boss constantly breathing down her neck. And besides, what's so bad about wanting a bad boy in your life? Especially when you live a life as shitty as hers.
“Hey sir, what can I get you?” The man looks up, brushing a few strands of his long brunette hair out of his face. Light blue eyes stare back at her.
“Hey there.” He grins. God, this man is gorgeous. He peers over the cabinet, staring at all the flavours. The light catches his eyes, and they sparkle even more. “It’s so hard to choose. There’s so many choices.” He murmurs. His voice is smooth like honey, and he hums to himself as he tries to decide. “Nope, no clue. Can you recommend anything?” He stands up straighter, almost leaning over the counter towards her. Yet, Y/N doesn’t feel afraid of him coming closer. In fact, somehow she already feels comfortable around him.
“Well, that depends. What kind of flavours do you like?”
The man chuckles, biting his lip slightly. “I do like something sweet.” He grins, pointedly glancing over her facial features. Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat, and she can already feel heat settling onto her cheeks. “But maybe with a little tartness.” He winks, and Y/N quickly bites her tongue before she can embarrass herself. “So what do you think…” His eyes move lower, towards her chest, landing on her name tag. “...Y/N?” He whispers. Y/N bites down even harder, quieting the moan that threatens to escape. This man just oozes charisma, and it’s clear he’s flirting with her. Although, after the shitty day she’s been having, he’s the welcome respite she needs.
“Um. I think r-raspberry ripple would be a good choice then.” She stammers, her voice sounding more like a squeak than anything else. Already, she can feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment.
“There we go then. Lady’s choice.” Quickly, Y/N scoops him some, thrusting the cone into his hand at breakneck speeds. As she does, her hand brushes against the leather of his gloves. And the sensation almost sends her heart into overdrive. Thankfully, the man doesn’t seem to notice her frazzled state. Or if he does, at least he doesn’t mention it. “Thanks doll.” He roots around in the pockets of his clearly too tight (although not that Y/N is complaining) jeans, handing over a wad of cash.
“It’s only three-” Y/N begins, holding out the extra cash. However, the man shakes his head.
“No, no. You keep it. Consider it a tip.” And a real, proper smile, her first that day, grows on Y/N’s lips.
“Thank you so much.” She expects the man to leave then, their chance meeting over. Instead, he stands there, watching her as he eats his cone. Meanwhile, Y/N tries to think of something, anything to say to get him to stay.
“This is amazing.” He smiles. “You have great taste.”
“You’re welcome. But you know….” She begins, and the man raises a brow. “I don’t know your name and you know mine. I think it’s only fair that I get to know yours.” Nodding, the man chuckles.
“It’s Bucky.”
“Nice to meet you, Bucky. How’s the ride? I think it’s great what you’re doing, by the way. I’ve been here most of the day, but I saw and heard you all down there. Sounds amazing.” For a moment, she’s worried her gushing will turn him off. But in fact, he seems more than happy to discuss it with her.
“Yeah, well, someone sends the call out, and we come to raise as much as we can. This time it’s for the local kid’s hospital.” He shrugs, showing there’s no question about his choice to help others. Y/N smiles. What was that she was saying about him being a bad boy? Seems like he’s anything but. “But you’re right. It’s great catching up with everyone, too.” Y/N holds out some more cash, and Bucky frowns. “I told you that’s your tip.”
“I know. But I wanna help too.” And then, Bucky smiles. A huge, warm, grateful smile.
“Thank you. You’re an angel, you know that? At least… one that gives out amazing ice cream and helps others.” Y/N feels her stomach fluttering, and she giggles.
“Well, I’m happy to serve.”
But then, the happy peace is shattered. “Y/N!” Her boss shouts, banging the door open. Immediately, Y/N jumps. Noticing her sudden fear, Bucky frowns.
“What the hell? Are you alright?” Her boss storms into the room, glaring at her. From the way he’s standing, his nostrils flaring, he looks like one of those cartoons with the faces that turn bright red whenever they get angry. If steam started coming out of his ears, Y/N wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.
“I told you to take out the fucking trash before I left, didn’t I?” He hisses.
“No, you didn’t. You just stormed out.” Y/N argues, willing herself not to get pissed off or cry in front of her cute customer.
“Don’t talk back to me. Need I remind you I pay your wages? I can easily take that away.”
“But-” she begins, already hearing her voice cracking.
“Hey, that’s enough. Don’t you ever threaten her like that again.” Bucky speaks up. His voice is immediately deeper, and more threatening.
“And who the hell are you?” Her boss asks, looking him up and down. But like Y/N said, it’s obvious that Bucky is a biker. “Oh. Of course.” He scoffs. “Listen buddy, I don’t need someone like you to tell me what to do. This is between me and my employee, so it’s none of your business. Got it?”
“Oh, someone like me, huh?” Bucky chuckles. “The thing is, I don’t care what an asshole like you thinks about me. What I do care about is how you treat your lovely employee there.” Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Y/N registers her heart beating even quicker at Bucky’s words. “Now. Why don’t you say sorry, and I won’t be forced to bring my friends round to help me deal with you, hm?”
Next, everything happens in a blur. All Y/N sees is her boss raising his fist, and Bucky quickly grabbing his wrist before he can do anything. “Really shouldn’t have done that, buddy.” Bucky tuts.
“Fuck you.” Her boss hisses, only to scream when Bucky twists his arm even more. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Her boss whimpers. Bucky shakes his head.
“Not to me. Say sorry to Y/N.” He orders. Somehow, the threatening tone of Bucky’s voice is extremely attractive to her. Or that could just be because he’s doing it to protect her. When she said he was a bad boy, she couldn’t have been further from the truth. In a cheesy way, he’s more like a knight in a leather jacket. “Now.”
“I’m sorry…Y/N.” Her boss cries. Seeing the man who has bullied and threatened her for so long on his knees in tears is a pretty unbelievable sight. Yet, Y/N can’t help but giggle. She’s been wanting this bastard to get his comeuppance ever since she started working here, and she’s not missing a moment of it.
“Good boy. Now, fuck off and leave her alone. And if I ever hear that you’re treating her like shit again, I will bring my friends round, okay?” When her boss nods, Bucky lets go of his wrist, and he scurries out of the door without another word. As Bucky takes out his phone, dialling a number, Y/N lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she was holding. Her heart is still pounding in some weird mix of fear and love for the man who saved her. “Hey. We have a situation at the ice cream parlour.” Bucky speaks, pacing around the shop. “No, nothing like that. The boss was just being an asshole to his employee, so I made sure he knew to leave her alone or else. Asshole’s probably gonna go squealing to the police at some point though, so we should be prepared. …Okay, see you soon.”
When Bucky hangs up, he’s immediately back to the same, kind person he was when it was just them. “Are you alright? He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
“No, it just scared me. It’s nothing new, though.” She murmurs. Her words make Bucky’s jaw clench, and he sighs.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Y/N doesn’t respond. Instead, she crosses over to him, pulling him into a tight grasp, not even caring about the consequences. He smells like gasoline and patchouli oil. The powerful aroma infiltrates her entire senses, sweet and intoxicating. Bucky wraps his arms around her, pulling her even closer. So close she can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and feel his heartbeat through his jacket.
“Thank you.” She gasps. “So much.”
“Of course, doll. It’s what we do.” Being in Bucky’s arms feels safe and right. He holds her until her heart rate calms down, matching with his. She never wants to let go.
But then, she remembers. Bikers from all over the country are at this charity meet.What if Bucky lives miles away, and she’ll never see him again?
“Bucky, what happens when you go? What if he comes back?” She asks, her voice quiet. Pulling apart from her, Bucky grabs a napkin, writing his number on it.
“I doubt he will come back, but if there’s any issues, you call me okay? I’ll be right over.” He picks up his helmet, heading towards the door.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I’ve gotta go meet the others. Like I said, call me, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, already missing him.
And then, he’s gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see more from these two very soon.
Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!
#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#biker!bucky#biker!bucky barnes#biker!bucky barnes x reader#bucky x Female Reader#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#Bucky Barnes x female reader#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky fanfic#bucky fanfiction#bucky fic#marvel oneshot#marvel cinematic universe#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic
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Could you do like 2003 bill headcanons for like a him and a girl he has a crush on who's in the band 😭😭 tons of fluffy stuff?
(hell yeah I can! Here ya go, enjoy! He was so adorable in 2003!)
Childhood Friends to Lovers
Childhood friends to lovers!
That's what you guys are
But let's get down to the origins
Bill didn't even know about his crush on you for the longest time until his mother and Tom started teasing him
Bill found feelings weird, but when they involved you, he actually didn't mind
When he was on stage singing for the first time on that show where he sang "It's raining men" you were there
He was trying his hardest to sing and impress you the whole time
And he did! He was happy when he saw you yelling for him on stage!
He felt so confident and happy
It all came down a bit though when he lost, and he was sad bc of that male judge
He was happy he got seconds, but was still just a bit down
He came to you and was crying a bit, and you comforted him as he hid into your shoulder
You told him he did great, he was still a bit upset but he nodded nonetheless
He was just happy he made you proud though
He always wants to make you happy!
Is constantly joking with you, play fighting, annoying you
He hates when you get mad at him or if you're sad
He'll try his best to make you happy, you're his best friend and crush!
He's happy you're in the band sm!
He's always glad to see you and to share being on stage with you always makes him smile
If you ever get hurt he is the first one by your side
Will put a bandaid on it and give it a small peck
Nothing will ever happen when Bill is there
He tries to be protective the best his little self can and you let him play hero
You guys always played with each other since you were very, very young
He always found it funny to confuse you with him and Tom when Tom didn't have his hair in dreads
Bill always likes going to you for anything
Was the kid who would pick flowers and give them to you during recess
You guys had a pretend wedding and he took that seriously!
Pretended girls were gross except for you! You're the exception
It's cute how many photos he and you have together since you were kids
He's always holding your hand in them, hugging you an in a few he kissed your cheek
He always had his priorities set with you when you guys were kids
Since the band was always together he was always hanging around you a bunch
You and him were glued to the hip so much you guys stayed up all night and your parents would find you guys asleep and hugging in bed sm
He never wanted you to cry and would wipe away your tears the best he could!
Hates when people would say shit about you
When he was having a hard time in school he always had you, and when you found out you went mf crazy
He always stuck by your side due to that
Fun fact: his first song was about you
He kept it a secret for so long, only telling you about it when you guys were older and in a relationship
He always liked having his head in your lap
You were the first one to listen to him sing and he always loved having you there to hear it
He was always in contact with his feminine side and was happy you didn't care about that or ask him to change himself
He styled your hair so much because he just liked messing with your hair
You let him practice makeup on you and if actually was pretty good
He just liked being so close to you
Always was hugging you, kissing your cheek or holding your hand
Took your promises very seriously
Always, when you guys were very young, said he was gonna marry you
You always had to agree because he would be sad if you didn't
If he ever gets hurt he goes to you no matter what
He let you style his hair and dress him up however you wanted because he liked hearing your giggles
Bought you whatever he could since you guys were young just because you wanted it
This never changed as you guys got famous
He just got happier and the crush grew since 2003
Mans is not letting go
#tokio hotel imagine#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel#tom kaulitz#bill kaulitz imagines#bill kaulitz#bill kaulitz x reader#bill
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Flight of the Navigator
Nagi Seishiro/Reader
fem reader!!
wc: 8k
meet-cute, (a little bit of) miscommunication, fluff, hurt/comfort
The cute guy who stole your coffee turns out to be a famous football player and you...turn out to need a lot of help with communicating.
--
It wasn't always this quiet.
Your old apartment used to be full of noise and excitement. The new one is empty and dead and dark and you're not sure how to fix it. You just need people to fill the space, you think. That's how it was before, three friends renting an apartment, full of youth and excitement for college. Until it became tedious hours just working and studying. Until one friend left to move in with their partner and the other relocated due to work.
Left to pay rent that was previously split by three people, you decided it might be time to move on as well. And the prospect excited you. A new place meant new people, a fresh start, a way to let go of everything.
But you forgot how much you hated change.
Meeting new people, finding a new job, navigating a new supermarket. (Why is their cereal kept at the very back?) God, you despised it all. The only familiar thing would be going to the same university.
You miss your old friends and you hate that they've adapted so quickly. You text the group chat only to get a reply hours later, almost always saying they're too busy to call. On the rare occasion you do speak to them over a call, the question 'How are things going?' manages to make your good mood fade away. Your bland answers of "Oh, fine! School is normal as always and the new job is paying the bills." always seem so boring compared to Inara telling you about her new cat and her weekend road trips or Malia telling you both that she thinks her boyfriend is gonna propose to her because "he's been acting too suspicious and there's like…no way he's cheating on me."
Moping around in your dead apartment did, of course, nothing to help. But today was different. Today, you were bursting with energy and just itching for something to do. So, you grab a jacket and head out.
You head over to a cafe that's now familiar to you, even though the old one you used to frequent hasn't quite left your mind. The streets are more crowded than you're used to and you should've expected it, coming out on a Sunday evening.
You order a coffee and grab a seat. You have your little outing planned out in your head; get something to fill your stomach and take a short walk in the park. Being outside has already lifted your spirits and you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn about leaving your house until now.
When your order is called out you look up from your phone and make your way to the counter, where the barista looks out expectantly. Just when you're within arms distance of the counter, a big hand engulfs what is obviously your cup.
You pause, figuring that this guy probably just ordered the same thing as you. Even though you did have energy, it wasn't the talking to people type. So, you decide you'll just wait for the barista to call out your order again. Unfortunately, your body follows your thoughts a little slower and the guy with your coffee notices you standing awkwardly to the side, half-turned and hand jutted out.
He looks at the cup in his hand that he's just finished paying for and then back at you. He opens his mouth to say something and you're half expecting him to give you the coffee.
"My bad."
You stand there dumbfounded as he walks out, coffee in hand.
You walk back to your seat, cheeks warm with embarrassment though you're not sure why. You're stuck in the cafe until you hear your order being called out once more and this time you're able to collect it mishap free.
The woman working at the counter gives you a small smile as she hands you your items, as if to acknowledge the previous interaction. You smile back amicably.
Later, when you're tossing in bed with your eyes unable to close you inevitably think about your interaction with the strange but insanely attractive guy from earlier. His white hair had looked so fluffy and his soft eyes were filled with a kind of luring haziness.
And you start thinking with naive hope that maybe if you visit the cafe more often, you might get to see his face again.
His oddly familiar face.
–
A week later, there's still no sign of the (probably famous) guy. You can't come up with any other logical explanation for why he would seem so familiar otherwise.
Every morning on your way to university you stop by the cafe, sometimes trying out something new on the menu. (You'd never thought a carrot cake could taste this good.) It gives you a sort of purpose, making you feel better about yourself for not rotting in your room, even if the reason might be silly.
You've mostly lost hope of seeing this white haired guy again but you're not that sad about it. You're more happy about the fact that you sometimes get to feed the stray dogs and cats you see on your way to the park where you lay down your blanket to work on an essay for uni.
And the fact that you've discovered new friends, all by yourself. A girl named Mika who'd befriended you at work and who you later discovered attended the same university as you. And the two friends who often sat next to you in one of your classes, Manha and Haru.
You feel independent, and it's new and refreshing and the feeling is welcome. It's a feeling you never got while living with your parents or even your old roommates. For the first time in a while you feel good about yourself.
And it's (mostly) all thanks to some random hot guy who said no more than two words to you.
So, once again on a Sunday evening you stand third in line at the cafe, hoping that they haven't run out of carrot cake. The line grows behind you as you text Haru confirmation that you'd be able to make it to a movie night tonight.
When you're finally in front of the counter you're glad to see three slices of carrot cake left in the display and you ask the employee to pack all three of them for you.
When she comes back, a filled paper bag in hand, you have your cash ready to give to her but an arm reaches over your shoulder, placing a card on the counter.
"I'll pay for it."
Your back straightens immediately, personal space breached and eyes widened as you step away from the person behind you. Nervously, you turn around, ready to confront whoever it is but those words die on your tongue.
"Oh. It's you." You end up blurting.
The guy with white hair who's been plaguing your mind stands right here, in front of you, reaching over you a bit to type into the keypad of the card swiping machine after he gets a muffin for himself.
"It's me. Consider this an apology for stealing your coffee last time."
"Ah. It's okay, it happens." You give him a smile.
He nods, and you're not sure what else to say.
"And…thank you." You give him a nod before taking a seat at one of the booths. You have your laptop opened up soon enough and your headphones are over your head, blasting a playlist. The daunting face of the google doc of one of your half completed essays stares back at you from the laptop. You take a sip of your coffee and then with a deep breath, your hands are poised over the keyboard and you begin to type.
You're only a sentence in when something disturbs your vision. You look up, quickly lowering your headphones to look back at the same white haired guy.
"...sitting here?" You only hear the end half of his sentence.
"Sorry?"
"Is someone sitting here?" He speaks again, with an expression so blank it betrays nothing. He's gesturing to the seat across from you in the booth.
"Oh, no! You can go ahead."
He sits down across from you, turning on his phone. You can just barely see his screen to notice he's playing some kind of game. You faintly hear the sound effects of it.
You decide to pause your music and keep your headphones around your neck, in case he speaks again.
He doesn't, but you relax enough to spend the next 45 minutes or so working on your essay. You're too focused on your work for the background noise to even bother you. You've made a good amount of progress by the time you decide to pack up and head home to get ready for Haru's movie night.
The mystery white haired guy still sits across from you, tapping away at his phone. When you put your laptop back in your bag and take the last bite of a muffin you had ordered, the guy sighs lightly.
"Ah. I died." His eyebrows raise just slightly and you can't even tell if he's mad about it.
"What are you playing?" You ask, tentative.
He looks up and tells you the name of the game and you can't help but gasp.
"Holy shit. I used to play that in high school."
"Who'd you main?" He scoots over to make place for you and you sit down next to him, peeking at his phone.
You scroll through his characters, a finger on his screen while he still holds it, until you come across your favorite character.
"This guy! I loved him so much." A smile catches onto your face and you feel so nostalgic.
"That is such a beginner character."
"Shut up. Who do you main?"
He scrolls back up to the top of the characters to click on a character you recognize. She has long brightly colored hair and a cool design.
"You are so basic, everybody uses her."
"You use the character level 10 players use."
"He's good!" You exclaim defensively and he simply raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
"You should play again." He suggests.
"I don't have the time, man." You lean back and away from him, no longer looking at his phone.
He moves on quickly, instead opening up the game folder on his phone and asking you if you'd played any of them before.
Memories tug on your brain again and you tell him about the time you'd stayed up till three the night before an exam, just defeating bosses on one of the games.
He laughs, and conversation flows easily with a common topic of interest. You talk along with him and time passes so quickly you're not even aware of it until your phone lights up with a notification and you catch sight of the time.
"Oh, fuck. I have to go." You blurt out, interrupting him.
He stares at you, lips parted and big eyes as you gather your things as quickly as you can. It's only half an hour before you're supposed to be at Haru's house and you shove all your things inside your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.
Facing the guy you say, "I'm so sorry! I have to be somewhere. I'll see you around, though!"
He barely gets time to utter the words 'see you' before you're rushing off.
And when you go, you take with you something he wants to keep. A fulfilling feeling he never wants to let go of. He needs to speak to you again to have it back.
You speed walk home and rush yourself getting ready but you manage to make it to Haru's for the movie night. (26 minutes later than the time you'd told him)
Haru drops both you and Manha home after your night. Your house comes first and Manha loudly bids farewell to you after you exit the car, smiling widely. Haru simply waves with a smile.
When you crawl into bed, slightly tipsy from a couple glasses of wine, you think about the guy from the cafe and you can't help but feel like he's given you something. A feeling of happiness to keep for yourself.
–
You meet him twice more the next week. You forgo going to the park to work on stuff, instead choosing to sit in the cafe, hoping to run into the same guy again.
You figure you've become a sort of a regular because the baristas who work in the evenings always greet you with a smile.
You meet him on Wednesday and then on Friday, and you wonder about what kind of schedule he's got. He always walks in after 6pm, walking to the counter to order and then to your booth, asking if he could sit.
(You say yes both times of course.)
You tell him about the new game you downloaded on your laptop and his eyes light up with recognition. He tells you he knows it but he's never played it.
"Oh my god, I've been obsessed. You have to get it, it's so good." You gush.
"Okay, I'll get it."
You laugh triumphantly.
You're typing on your computer, working on uni work when you suddenly remember.
"Oh my god."
Across from you, he looks up.
"What's your name?" You ask.
His eyebrows raise in surprise, like he was just remembering the same thing.
"Nagi Seishiro." He says.
You tell him your own name before it hits you.
Nagi Seishiro…
"That's why you look familiar!" You blurt out.
"You know me?" He looks at you, eyebrows raised again.
"Who doesn't?" You smile.
But truthfully the only reason you know of him is because of your younger brother, i.e arguably the biggest fan of Manshine City. He's probably the only person you're in contact with from your family and you'd rather die than stop talking to him. He's also the only person who'd bothered to stay in touch after you moved out of your parents house.
You always click through his close friends story with a fondness, seeing him and his friends celebrate or sit in misery when their teams win or lose. It never fails to make you laugh.
You and Nagi sit and talk until he has to leave for something or the other and you pack up as well, heading home.
On the way home you text your brother,
you will not BELIEVE who im friends with!!!
–
The next time you meet him, he's at the cafe before you.
When you walk in you spot him immediately, having taken residence over the booth you two normally sit in.
You get your coffee and a snack and seat yourself opposite him, without having to ask. He looks up for a second before his eyes go back to his game.
"Wow, early today?" You ask, opening up your laptop. You haven't got any work to do today so you open your current favorite game, leeching off of the cafe's wifi.
"Yeah. No practice today."
"Lucky. I had a class till three today." You pretend to gag.
He huffs in amusement. "Why would you voluntarily still attend school? I would rather die, it's so much of a hassle."
"Because! I like what I'm learning." You say defensively before continuing, "It's just…annoying to have to do work."
You smile guiltily at him and he says, "You're so right. Sleeping is better."
"Don't you wake up at like six for your practice or whatever?" You raise an eyebrow.
"Doesn't mean I want to though." He shoots back and sighs before continuing, "Football is such a hassle."
You smile amusedly. "Everything's a hassle to you."
"That's true."
With his eyes cast downwards at his phone, he doesn't see the way you smile fondly.
–
After a week, he finally gets your number.
Haru was supposed to pick you up and take you to a concert but he'd texted you suddenly, saying he'd gotten sick and that it had to be cancelled.
You weren't too sad about it considering Manha was supposed to go with him originally, they were both big fans of the band playing. The only reason she cancelled was because she caught the flu (which probably spread to Haru). You'd only offered to go in her stead because they didn't want the ticket to go to waste and after giving a couple listens to their songs, you decided you wouldn't mind listening to them live.
So, you stare at the texts Haru has just sent you, dampered. You hoped walking home this late wouldn't be as scary as it sounds.
"What happened?"
You look up to meet Nagi's concerned eyes.
"It's nothing, don't worry. My friend just can't take me to that concert I was telling you about. So I'll probably have to walk home now." You groan. "I don't think buses run this late."
It only just hit 8:30 but walking to the bus stop would take more time and you would probably miss the last bus.
"What are you talking about? I can just drop you home." He says, and looks genuinely confused.
"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you." You nibble on your lower lip.
He nods. "You're fine, don't worry. I don't have anything going on tonight. Tell me when you're ready to leave."
It's already late enough so you leave right away, packing your bag and exiting alongside Nagi.
"Wow." He hears from you when you enter his car. He raises an eyebrow.
"It's so clean." Your expression shows surprise and awe. His car isn't too fancy but it still…looks like a rich person owns it.
"Why do you always expect the worst from me?" It's a rhetorical question and you respond by laughing.
"Isn't it obvious?" You smile.
He gives you a dirty look but you can tell there's no real heat behind it.
"Which way are we heading?" He inquires.
When you tell him the name of your apartment complex he just stares blankly at you and you sigh. You rack your brain for some sort of landmark near your place.
"Do you know the park with that crazy lion fountain?"
He hums, thinking about it before saying, "Wait near that one gym?"
"Yes!"
"Oh! I know that place." His eyes light up.
"Okay just go there and then I can guide you."
He gives you the aux, albeit hesitatingly. The first song you play is horrible just to spite him. You laugh so hard when he visibly flinches at the sound of it. But when you do play the music you actually enjoy, you catch him slightly bopping his head to it.
"Do you mind if we stop here?" He questions, leaning his head towards a convenience store and slowing down.
You shake your head, too focused on the song playing to formulate a verbal response. He takes the turn to the store and soon enough you find yourself trailing Nagi as he browses the fridges.
"You want anything?" He spares you a glance while he rifles through a fridge. You hum before taking a round through the small store and you find what you're looking for in the small shelf that houses various cookies. You see the packet you want behind a couple of others so you reach your hand in, fingers catching on your choice of cookies and you pull it out, unfortunately pulling three other packets along with it. They clatter to the floor and the crinkle of plastic is relatively loud.
A fourth packet sits on the edge of the shelf, just about to tilt over and when it does, your hands rush to catch it. But it just makes more noise when you fail to catch it in midair, hitting the shelf before the floor.
You look around to make sure no one saw the commotion before bending down and picking up the packets of cookies.
A choked sound makes you look up to see Nagi covering his mouth as he laughs. He's also got his phone out and you suspect he's already taken a couple of photos.
Heat rises to your face. "What are you doing! Stop, it's not even- stop!"
He continues to giggle and you finish clearing up the fallen packets before collecting the one you'd wanted from the beginning.
"Let's go!" You tell him, turning him around and patting his shoulder. He still has a small smile on his face.
"That's all?" He asks, and you nod
He walks over to the counter, a plethora of snacks in his arms and you follow with your packet of cookies. He pays for everything and he carries his small bag of snacks to the car.
"I can pay you back for-"
"No. It's literally just some cookies, it's fine."
You don't ask about it anymore even with the nagging feeling in your gut that it isn't right, but you're somehow glad you didn't have to spend more money.
In the car, he already has a newly bought lollipop sitting in his mouth as he giggles at his phone.
"What are you laughing at?"
His amused eyes meet yours as he twists the phone so you can see the photo of you looking embarrassed after you dropped the cookies. You swipe and the photos show the events as they progress, you bending down and picking up the packets, your mouth open as you say something to Nagi.
Most of the photos are bad, consisting of you with an unflattering expression covering your face but the last one makes you gasp.
"Wait, Nagi send me this. I actually look good here." You zoom in on the photo, examining this and that.
It's another photo of you standing with a packet of cookies in hand, but this time a smile graces your features as you face Nagi (and the camera) and you look really good.
"Okay, but how?" He starts up the car and reverses, doing the thing where he places his arm behind your headrest and looks behind. You do your best not to stare.
It distracts you for a second and you say, "Ah- sorry?"
"I don't have your number." He clarifies.
"Oh my god, you're right. Give me your phone, I'll save it." You keep a hand out.
He juts his hip out just a little and says, "Take it."
You look at him, but he's got his eyes on the road and you realise he can't afford to let go of the wheel right now.
Your hand reaches into the pocket of his pants where you can see the outline of his phone and you flush at the proximity. You pull out his phone, unfortunately ridding yourself of his warmth.
"The passwords 3333."
"That is actually so stupid."
"You're stupid."
You ignore him, tapping onto the contacts icon and you save your number, typing out your first name. You send a text to yourself so that you can save his number on your own phone.
"Okay, done." You smile at him.
"Thanks."
He pulls up in front of your complex soon enough and you smile at him as you exit his car.
"Thank you for the ride, Nagi."
"You're welcome." He's got a barely noticeable smile on his face.
When you slip into bed, you open the text you sent yourself from Nagi's phone.
youre better than me at gaming
wow
im glad you can finally admit it
He replies quickly.
u r so annoying
You grin, knowing he's not serious. He remembers to send you the photo of yourself and you send him a text saying thank you.
You turn your phone off soon after that and clutch your pillow, squealing into it before you fall asleep.
–
The next time you meet him, it's at the theatre.
Haru, Manha and even Mika had declined your offer to go and see your favorite film that you'd heard was being screened again.
You'd texted Nagi about it and when you'd discovered he'd never even seen the movie, you convinced him to come see it with you.
"Why couldn't we just watch this at your place or something?" He says as the two of you get situated in your seats.
"It's all about the atmosphere, man."
After the movie, he drives the two of you to your now favorite cafe, where you force him to give you his detailed opinion about the movie. You banter back and forth and in the moment you're just so aware of how comfortable you are with him.
There have been…moments during the movie and even now, where you sit beside him in the booth instead of opposite to him. During the movie, you'd clutched his hand and squealed excitedly (and softly) when your favorite scene was playing. He'd clutched back and continued to hold your hand for the rest of the movie. Every time you wanted to tell him something, you had to lean forward and speak into his ear because the volume of the movie was so loud. When he'd done the same to you, you were just glad he couldn't hear how fast your heart was beating.
He drops you back home, now (mostly) familiar with the way to your house.
"You just took the wrong turn, you fucker!"
When you finally reach your place, you disconnect your phone from the aux and that's when he speaks up,
"Was this a date?"
You pause, but you know better than to stutter and gape like an idiot.
"...did you want it to be a date?"
He meets your eyes, unwavering and without hesitating says, "Yes."
You smile, somewhat shy and unbelieving.
"Then it was a date."
He smiles back at you and it's so, so pretty.
When he asks if he can kiss you, you don't trust yourself to speak coherently so you nod demurely.
You lean in and when he does too, you shut your eyes and your lips find his through darkness. The kiss itself is not something magical but the way something is fulfilled inside you feels like it. He holds you then, and you feel so safe.
You kiss him in his car more times than you can count, and you can't fight off the smile you have on your face until it falls away in your sleep.
–
The second date is his idea.
He ends up taking you out to dinner. It's a fancy restaurant, in a part of the city you haven't explored fully yet.
You're relieved you'd thought to ask him where he'd planned on taking you ahead of time so you were able to dress for the occasion. You're wearing a simple black dress but it's not so casual that you look like you don't belong among the rest of the diners.
He tells you about his longtime friend and teammate Mikage Reo and you tell him about how your little brother is a big fan of his team. After you let Nagi know that you're not really in contact with the rest of your family he knows not to pry but he tells you about his own parents.
His sleepy eyes and lazy smile and his soft hair that shakes every time he moves with laughter make you feel like someone new.
After dinner he drops you home and the tips of his ears turn red when you kiss him goodnight. You give him one last smile before leaving his car.
–
You fall into a routine. It's comfortable and you're able to flex around it.
You attend classes, work, complete assignments and meet Nagi whenever the opportunity arises.
You've been happy with him and he says the same about you but some bitter, small part of your mind gives in to insecurity sometimes.
You don't voice these insecurities out to him, of course not, especially given the fact that you guys aren't…actually dating. Neither of you have labeled your relationship and admittedly, you're too scared to.
Despite the fact you've spent so many days over at his house, and him at yours, and the two of you have gone out multiple times, and despite the amount of times you've made out, you'd never actually asked him the big question.
Are we dating?
To be fair, he hadn't asked you either but you really couldn't tell what he was thinking.
But it didn't affect you so badly that you couldn't stop thinking about it. Sure, maybe with how close the two of you have been during the last two months you should put a definite status to your relationship but you could suffice without one. He made you happy and that was enough for you.
And yeah, some days were still worse than others, when you were stuck in bed with no motivation to even get up and brush your teeth but you pushed through it. Nagi came over once when this happened, hoodie pulled over his head and a takeout bag in hand.
That day, he sent you a text offering to bring some food for you after you told him you weren't feeling well. You'd honestly thought that he meant he would drop it off and move on with his night but he'd come over with the intention to stay for a while.
You'd been so afraid that you'd scare him away with your disheveled appearance and no energy to talk, but he had almost wordlessly opened the takeout containers and loaded a show you liked on your laptop.
After he left that night, you'd cried so hard. Not out of sadness but some kind of fear. Fear of the realisation that you might be in love with him. Fear of the fact that he had so much power over you, just because of your feelings. And fear that you might mess up whatever the two of you had going on.
But you also felt so loved. Loved when you opened the door for him and he gave you a kiss on the temple and a light embrace. Loved when he didn't seem to mind that you didn't feel like talking. Loved when he did this for you without you even asking.
He had texted you the next morning, asking if you wanted him to come over that night as well. The smiley face he sends in response to your affirmation has you smiling just like it.
So, you were fine with the fact that you and Nagi were the way you were without a label. That is, until you get a text from him.
hey
you remember Reo?
he's having a get together this Friday and said I could invite you if I wanted
you wanna come?
It leaves you thinking. (Spiralling)
Why would he invite you to hang out with just his friends? Do they know about you? Do they think you guys are an item? Does Nagi think you guys are an item?
You voice none of these concerns, which isn't right on your part but you're more concerned about getting ridiculed for your worries. Despite the rational side of your brain saying, Seishiro wouldn't do that, the fear still plagues you.
But you ignore all of it, and text him,
yeah!
sounds fun:)
The only thing you can think about now is not to mess this up.
–
This is definitely not a get together.
Mikage Reo's house is filled with people. Way too many people to call it a get together. It was definitely a party.
Nagi is by your side, the way he has been since he picked you up in his car and drove you both all the way to Reo's penthouse. He holds your hand in his as he navigates through the crowd, making sure you don't get lost while he searches for his friend.
You haven't been to a party like this in ages. You remember the last time, you and your friends had drank till you'd puked and when you woke up you were laying in the bathtub with a raging headache. (You were supposed to be designated driver.)
You pass people standing around and chatting, some on their phones. A group of friends doing shots by the kitchen counter while a couple makes out against a wall not too far from them. Several people call out to Nagi in greeting, coming over to say something or the other to him. Some of them offer you a handshake and introduce themselves with a smile and some barely pay you a glance.
You're not too bothered by it. It just kind of…reminds you that you're not really from Nagi's world. You're not sure if you belong in it. But for the time being, his hand in yours placates you.
The flashing lights are just starting to get to your eyes when Nagi finally finds Reo. He's sitting on the couch in a group of people, some of them you vaguely recognize.
"Nagi!"
When you get close enough, someone from the group spots Nagi and waves energetically.
Nagi lets go of your hand to get closer and give a half hug to the guy, who you now recognize.
His striking blue eyes make a light bulb go off in your head and you remember the time you'd told your brother, "This Isagi guys' eyes are too bright." But with him being as famous as he is, you'd be able to recognize him without your brother's sporadic information about footballers.
When he's finally done greeting Isagi he comes back to you twiddling your thumbs and claps his hands over your shoulders.
"Guys, this is my friend."
You won't lie, it stings. To consider Nagi the closest person to you right now and just be called a friend, it pinches your gut. You hope it doesn't show on your face.
He tells them your name and then points at them from left to right and tells you their names.
You really can't remember any of them after five seconds other than Mikage, Isagi and an energetic guy named Bachira.
You smile at them, full of nerves and say, "Hi!"
As the night goes on you find yourself proven wrong. You hadn't expected meeting Nagi's friends to go anything better than just fine but it's going unexpectedly great.
You're seated with Reo on your right and Nagi on your left. Reo says nothing but, "It's great to finally meet you." with a smile. You smile back genuinely saying, "Likewise."
You open up eventually, not feeling afraid to butt into the conversation the longer you spend time with them.
Isagi has his arm around a girl who's friendly enough to have a good, genuine conversation with. She exasperatedly tells you, "It's nice not to be the only girl here!"
It only becomes slightly awkward when she asks you, "So…you and Nagi?"
Your eyes go wide and you reflexively think of denying whatever she's implying but you don't want to lie so you're not exactly sure what to say. You shut your mouth and laugh curiously, and with a raised eyebrow you say, "Me and Nagi…?"
She simply smiles knowingly. You know your initial reaction was too obvious to hide.
You learn that Isagi and Bachira are just big dorks and that the closest the guy who's blonde hair is dyed pink at the ends (and whose name you just can't remember) will get to smiling is a crazy looking smirk.
You tell Mikage that your brother's favorite player is probably him (if it's the same as it was a few months ago) and he laughs loudly, saying it gave him an ego boost. Nagi tells him his ego is already sky high.
Eventually, you guys have a couple rounds of drinks and it helps you loosen up further. When everyone goes ahead to dance, you're fine with staying alongside Nagi who says "dancing is such a hassle" and watching him play a game on his phone. Until a song you really like comes on and you get jealous of the people already dancing to it so you tug on his sleeve.
"Seishiro, pleaseee."
He spares you a glance, fingers still tapping away on his phone. "Just go without me."
"No way! I barely know these people. Please?" You try again. You're trying to get on the dance floor before the song gets over.
He sighs and gives in, muttering about how this is taking too much effort. You pull him to the dance floor with a grin. When the others spot you two, they cheer. Bachira comes over to clap you on the back and congratulate you for getting Nagi to dance before disappearing again.
A few dance breaks are taken where Nagi's friends convince him to do a couple rounds of shots with them. You prefer a cup of water. By the time the alcohol sets in he's clinging to you and pulling you back to the dance floor.
"C'mon, I thought you wanted to dance."
You laugh, "Oh how the turned tables."
You enjoy yourself, mentally reminding yourself to thank Nagi for inviting you to this later. You forget about everything you're worrying about while you dance.
Drunk Nagi still clings to you by the time you two are leaving. You hold his arm around your shoulder and keep your arm around his waist, trying your best to support his weight as you both wait for the lift to arrive.
You turn your head around when you hear your name called out. Nagi continues to hum the tune of a song you can't recognize as his head rests on top of yours.
Reo stands in his doorway, holding out a phone that when you squint, you recognize as your white haired friend's.
"Sei, wait for me okay? I'll be right back." You tell him, and leave him to lean against the wall as you make your way to Reo.
"Shit, thank you Reo." You pocket Nagi's phone.
"Yeah, no problem. See you around." He nods at you.
You smile back and say the same before turning to walk back to Nagi.
"Hey wait."
You swivel back around, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Yeah?"
He meets your eyes and speaks, not hesitating, "Whatever you two are doing…don't mess it up. Be worth his time."
You swallow and the only thing you can recall are the words you said to yourself before. Because you're so scared of messing it up. Mikage is probably speaking out of care for his friend but it feels so personal to you.
You meet Reo's fierce eyes again. "Yeah. Yeah- I'll treat him well. Bye, Reo."
He goes back to his party without saying bye. A good amount of the crowd is still present considering that it's not too late and the only reason you and Nagi are leaving is because Nagi kept whining about being sleepy. Not that you're complaining.
You get back to Nagi, guiding him into the lift.
"Hi. What did Reo want?" His hair drapes over his eyes as he looks at you.
"You forgot your phone, silly. He was just returning it" You smile and show him his phone, pushing it into his pants pocket for him.
"Thank you, Reo."
You laugh and ruffle Nagi's hair. He hums in content.
When you finally manage to get him in the car, you buckle him in and ask, "Your place or mine?"
"Hm?"
"You wanna go to your place or sleep over at mine?"
He turns to you, "You sleep over at my house."
"I don't think I have any clothes there though."
"Wear mine."
You can't smile, not when you're still thinking about what you two are. "Okay."
When you reach, you drag Nagi to the lift, go up and enter his apartment. You pull him all the way to his bed and lay him down, taking his shoes and socks off afterwards. He babbles nonsense as you do this although sometimes you can understand him whining about being sleepy.
"Then sleep, Seishiro." You murmur, pulling off your own outfit.
"But you're not here." He groans, flopping over to your side of the bed dramatically.
"Give me five minutes, Sei."
You change into his clothes like he suggested, and the graphic t-shirt looks comically big on you. You gulp down a glass of water from the kitchen and bring one to Nagi, helping him to sit up straight and drink. He only drinks about half the glass before saying, "I'm done."
He sinks back down, burrowing himself beneath the duvet. You go back to the kitchen to leave the glass in the sink to join Nagi on the bed.
He cuddles into you immediately, arm going over your body and one leg slung over yours. It's natural with how often you've slept beside him.. You shift around till you're comfy and not long after, Nagi falls asleep. His mouth hangs open slightly and you kiss him on the forehead, because he's just right there.
You don't fall asleep that quick though, eyes stuck to the ceiling as you replay Reo's words.
Don't mess it up.
–
Before you know what you're doing, you pull away.
When you notice that you've been getting avoidant of him, you try to justify it to yourself. Thinking things like: if his best friend doesn't like you, it's probably for the better this way.
You're scared of messing it up so you just…don't do anything at all.
You've been replying to his texts like normal but you decline his invitations to meet up. And when you'd normally call him to make up for that, you say no to those offers as well.
After almost two weeks of this, he texts you, asking what's wrong. You send back an innocent question mark. And no matter how much you keep trying to push against his insistence and concern, he doesn't stop questioning you.
And it gets to the point where you're close to tears, overwhelmed and afraid but it's no one's fault but your own, you think. You let Reo's words (and your own thoughts) get to you and you still can't face Nagi.
You just leave him on delivered for the time being, so scared that he hates you but more scared of making it worse by unintentionally saying something wrong.
The day goes by so slowly and you let out a big sigh when you finally get out of the lift and onto your floor in your apartment building. Work went badly today but it was only because you just weren't in the right frame of mind.
With your head down as you walk to the apartment you decide you'll text Nagi to meet up tomorrow and finally just talk about it. You're not exactly sure about what you're gonna say but you just can't take it anymore.
"Excuse me." You mutter, when you almost bump into someone outside your door.
They move but still linger, and you don't have the energy to even pay them a glance so you just shove your key into the door with a sigh.
You jolt upright when you hear your name. You twist around.
"Seishiro…"
He says your name again and you take his appearance in, and the bouquet of flowers he holds.
"I'm sorry…I don't know what I did but…" He begins, but doesn't get very far.
He sounds so in pain, like he really believes he's in the wrong and you cannot stop yourself from bursting into tears.
You think of wiping away your tears as discreetly as possible but a loud, choked sob escapes you before you can get away with it.
Nagi looks up, alarmed.
"Hey- what- why-? What's going on?" He comes forward and his hands land on your shoulder, trying to get a good look at you as you cover your face with your hand, pulling away.
You shake your head, unable to get comprehensible words out yet.
You try your best to stop but the tears just won't stop flowing and you try to tell him this.
"I'm sorr- I'm sorry, I don't know- why-" You interrupt yourself with another round of sobs and it just makes you feel more pathetic.
Nagi simply pulls you into him, rubbing soothing circles into your back as you let it all out. You feel the bouquet dig into your back but it grounds you almost more than Nagi's arms around you.
He guides you into your apartment, and sits you down on the couch, kissing your forehead before leaving to get you a glass of water. He comes back to you still on the couch, more calmed down, but still hiccupping. The ends of your sleeves are wet with snot and tears, like the front of his shirt. He helps you drink the water, a reassuring hand on your back as you gulp.
And he sits there, not pushing you until you're ready to speak. He waits and he waits.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Seishiro. It was never- nothing was your fault, I'm sorry you felt that way. I'm so, I just-" You shake your head as tears fill your eyes once more and you can't find the words to explain your predicament.
"Take your time. Start from the beginning, what happened?"
He's nothing but patient and his concerned filled eyes just make you feel worse about everything.
You take a deep breath, shuddering. "I- I was- Wait- I'm just, I'm sorry if this sounds ridiculous but I…I felt like I didn't deserve you.
"And then Mikage said don't mess this up and it just- it made me feel like I already did that. And- and I, I thought you didn't like me anymore because of everything and then you called me your <em>friend</em> and I just kind of- I didn't want to make it worse. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
Your voice is all teary and you laugh at the end to try and play it off but you just sound like you're going insane.
Nagi's eyebrows are furrowed as they stare ahead.
"If I didn't like you, I would've never…paid for your drink that day. Or kept talking to you. Or any of the things that I did with you."
You don't reply, eyes on the ground and embarrassed at crying so much.
"What did Reo say to you?"
"Nothing! It was just something like, 'Don't mess it up and be worth Seishiro's time.'" You say, as if you don't replay what he said every other day. It seems so small to you now that Nagi's beside you and you're afraid he won't understand why you're this way.
"That asshole." He swears, brows still furrowed.
"No- Nagi, it's fine! It just took me off guard. He was just…looking out for you." You don't want to somehow come between the two of them.
"Bullshit. He could've been nicer about it." He shakes his head, frustrated.
When you don't say anything he speaks again, "And…I called you my friend that night because, well, Reo said I actually had to ask you to be my girlfriend, instead of just assuming it."
You laugh softly at the irony and Nagi's lips tug into a small smile as well.
"Mikage always seems to be at the scene of the crime.
"But Seishiro- he's right. You do have to ask me for it to be true."
"Was I supposed to ask you right there?"
"No! You could've asked me like, way before. I've been at your place making out with you like, everyday. Why would I say no?" You raise an eyebrow.
"And why couldn't you ask me?" He presses.
"Because! …Shut up." You turn your head away from him, flustered.
He laughs and fingers come to pinch at your jaw so he can turn you back to look at him. The love so clearly visible on his face makes you even more flustered.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" It's soft and lazy like all his words are but you like it.
"Yes." You whisper. He's so close, right in front of you.
You meet him halfway when he leans forward and you feel the smile against your lips.
–
It's about a month until the next time you meet Mikage Reo. He doesn't meet your eyes when he says sorry.
You smile, amused and say, "Don't worry about it."
You've lost the need to be scared of not living up to his standards.
He warms up to you eventually though and a month later, he says sorry again, not meeting your eyes still but meaning it this time. After that, you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders and you smile genuinely at him saying, "Don't worry about it. Reo."
Nagi never changes, his lazy words and soft eyes and white hair stay the same. You've told him you love him.
It's safe to say you're happy. You're happy as Nagi lays down on you, fast asleep after watching a movie. His head lays on your chest and your legs encircle his waist. Your fingers rake through his hair and you lean down to press a kiss on his scalp because he's just right there. And he always will be.
You lift your phone and take a photo of Nagi's head on your chest, his eyes shut and mouth half open. You make your hand into a peace sign above his head and in the photo you can just barely see the bottom of your face.
You send it to your brother, adding the text:
you'll never BELIEVE who im dating!!
#blue lock#nagi seishiro#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro x you#reo mikage#bachira meguru#isagi yoichi#shidou ryuusei#the title is from a childish gambino song 🤗#mivyts
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Month 10 - Leafbare
Sagetooth sat in her nest, curled tightly around herself to warm her freezing paws. The previous day had come with even more snow which had made searching for horsetail out of the question. Even the border patrols had been cut to a bare minimum to prevent anyone else from getting frostbitten. Today the snow had stopped falling but its remnants still laid thickly over the ground and her expedition had proved fruitless. Now, she waited for her body to warm up enough so that she could head back out again.
Yarrowshade had barely left the Healers’ den since he and Nightfrost had come in together. He helped Nightfrost plan patrols and delivered them to the rest of the Clan, he went hunting once or twice and did his assigned border shifts, but aside from that he spent every moment with Nightfrost. They slept next to each other, they shared tongues, they talked about Barleypaw’s training and the truce with EarthClan and other things.
Sagetooth had tried to tamp down her annoyance at their inane conversations. As much as she had no interest in love, she knew how important it was to other cats and she knew that Nightfrost’s situation was precarious. It was better that she focus on finding the proper medicine than on getting upset that a patient had someone who loved her. At least Branchbark had received a clean bill of health. If one more cat was stuck inside the den with her, she thought she might burst.
Outside the den, the world was a blinding white void under the noonday sun, all sound muffled by the snow blanketing the camp. Still, the sound of young voices chattering reached her ears and shortly enough, Oddstripe and his kits filtered into the den. Sagetooth sighed.
“Yarrowshade!” Barleypaw cried, rushing to her mentor’s side to snuggle up against him.
He laughed and lifted an arm to welcome her, opening one eye from his nap. “Hey, kiddo! I missed you!”
“Me too,” she nodded, burying her face in his fur contentedly.
Sparrowpaw and Floodpaw were bickering about something. “You’d be lost before you even found him,” Sparrowpaw frowned.
Floodpaw lifted his head and said, “Nuh-uh, I’d find him and choke him with his own collar.”
“You would not!” cried Sparrowpaw, seeming to get genuinely upset.
“Boys! Boys!” Oddstripe placated, “Nobody is going to the city to fight Razor. Can we please stop fighting?”
“I’m not fighting,” Floodpaw insisted, “he’s the one getting mad.”
“‘Cause you’re being a beebrain!” Sparrowpaw shouted through gritted teeth.
“Quiet!” Sagetooth snapped, “Both of you.” And the two apprentices fell silent, ducking their heads in shame.
Oddstripe offered her an apologetic wince. “Sorry, Sagetooth.”
“Did you find any horsetail?” she asked, dismissing the apology with a flick of her ear.
“No,” Oddstripe sighed. “I can go out again in a bit.” He stepped deeper into the den, then paused to cough.
“Dammit, Oddstripe,” Sagetooth growled, “are you sick?”
“What?” He looked up at her. “No, no, my throat is just dry.” He coughed again, trying to hide his muzzle in his shoulder.
“I’ll get you some water, Papa!” Sparrowpaw offered and bolted out of the den.
“It’s all gonna be frozen, you moron!” Floodpaw called as he followed after his brother.
“Sit down,” Sagetooth ordered. Oddstripe complied. Holding her breath, Sagetooth leaned in to press her ear against his chest. Oddstripe, who knew the procedure, waited for her to get into place and then took a deep slow breath, but it collapsed into coughs before he could finish filling his lungs.
“You are sick!” Sagetooth lashed her tail. “Get in your nest right now, young man. And make sure your fool kits give you a wide berth.” Oddstripe crept to his nest, ears hanging low.
“I’m sorry, Sagetooth,” he managed.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, “be better. I’m going to go looking for horsetail again. Treat yourself with catmint and stay away from Nightfrost. You don’t want her getting whitecough on top of frostbite.” Oddstripe nodded obediently.
“Is Papa gonna be okay?” Barleypaw asked, her voice timid.
“He’ll be fine if he stays in bed and gets his rest,” Sagetooth sighed, trying to be gentle. She did like Barleypaw.
“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” Oddstripe reassured her and he was right. They had plenty of herbs to treat a cough and he had enough knowledge to treat himself and keep an eye on his symptoms. Nightfrost however… Sagetooth looked at the deputy and frowned. Her paws were wrapped with clean cobwebs and she was warm inside the den but… infection was just too likely, especially with their lack of useful stock. Nightfrost met her gaze and offered her a tight lipped smile in return. She understood exactly what Sagetooth had been thinking.
“I’ll be back soon with the horsetail,” the Healer said and then tromped into the snow before anyone could contradict her. She squinted harshly against the snow glare, mumbling curses under her breath. She would find the damned horsetail or, so help her StarClan, she would burn the entire forest down through sheer irritation.
~~~
When she returned, she was cursing herself. Finding a certain plant through thick snow was harder than she had thought and, even when searching the places that she knew horsetail grew, it was tedious and tricky to push through the snow and uncover any of it. She hadn’t been able to find any useful horsetail at all.
And what was worse, her paws were numb. She had tried to be careful and quick but her route had been a bit farther than she had anticipated and, by the time she had made it back to camp, she knew her paws were frostbitten. The damage was much less severe than Nightfrost had suffered but it was still a foolish mistake that was going to have serious consequences.
With Oddstripe on bed rest, this meant that no one would be able to treat wounds for a while. Especially if Nightfrost’s paws became infected, Sagetooth would not be able to touch them at all or else she might catch the infection. This was bad and she was furious with herself for making such a sloppy mistake.
As she entered the camp, she shouted, “Branchbark!” and the young warrior quickly scrambled out of the warriors’ den.
“Yes?” he asked dutifully. Sagetooth nearly sighed in relief. Nearly.
“I need you to go hunting for horsetail tomorrow. This is urgent, do you understand me?”
He nodded, a bit dumbstruck. “Yes, Sagetooth. I understand.”
“Good,” she huffed. “And don’t you dare come back with frostbite.” With that she turned and stomped into her den to warm her paws. Inside, Yarrowshade was asleep against Nightfrost’s side, but the deputy was awake and locked eyes with her. Sagetooth huffed again and looked away, unable to hold her patient’s gaze. She hoped that there would be time for Nightfrost to forgive her for her callousness.
UPDATES:
- Branchbark recovers from whitecough
- Oddstripe comes down with greencough
- Sagetooth returns from herb gathering with frostbite.
- RisingClan does not have enough healthy healers!
#clan gen#clangen#warrior cats#warriors#warrior cats oc#warriors oc#clangen oc#clan gen oc#Sagetooth#Yarrowshade#Nightfrost#Oddstripe#Branchbark#clangenrising#Barleybee#Floodstrike#Sparrowsway
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IWTV S2 Ep4 Musings - Loumand
Assad was NOT. PLAYING.
Put those village feeders AWAY, sir~! 😍 You look ready to start lactating, omg! Assad NEVER misses a day at the gym!
What happened to y'all being so in sync, fellas?
Armand seems WAY more delusional here than Louis, for once. Which is telling--Armand had long been "failing" to hold onto his coven, and his authority.
Louis reading about Death while his daughter's arguing for her life, I can't.
And this little shrug when Armand punished Claudia, omfg, he is giving weak-willed-mother-who-lets-the-mean-stepfather-run-roughshod-over-her-kids-cuz-the-peen-is-too-good-and-he-pays-all-the-bills.
So we go from Lestat's "the Meat" and Claudia's "Kill Juice" to Armand's "Cattle."
NGL, I'd be pissed if I was the coven, too. How you gon' have this dude sit there not needing to follow the rules, while all of us are stuck wearing clown makeup and having our makers killed cuz of your dumb rules?!
I REALLY like this mutinous angle AMC's using, fleshing out the tension in the coven more, cuz it really makes sense.
I get that Louis would want to be around, but omfg cut the umbilcal already! I agree with the coven: like, WHY are you there exactly? Not even the worst helicopter moms are allowed to sit in class with their kids all day, so wtf? And I agree that Armand needs to draw MUCH thicker lines in the sand. Coven business is coven business--if Louis' not gonna even be allowed to speak up in Claudia's defense, then he shouldn't be there at all. ESPECIALLY if he's gonna flaunt how much he doesn't GAF about their rules--their CULTURE.
Aw crap, you got the homie Estelle mad, too?!
You done effed up, Louis--that's the smile of a psychopath. XD
Oh, he's keeping SOMETHING tight, he ain't lyin! 😜
👀
LOUIS! The ONE time you should've lied, omfg! 🤦 It's called making a UNITED FRONT, ffs!
Louis said Hot Girl Summer--literally.
🔥🕯️ FIRE GIFT LOUIS THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ️🕯️🔥
Louis said it only works when he's PISSED OFF, OH LAAAWWWWD!
This bit scared the crap out of me--at first I was like the coven's gonna jump y'all in your skivvies!? 😂 Then I was like wait--was that a crew member?! How did y'all not catch that in post!?
And then it all became clear.
*crosses self* HISSSSS.
CLEARLY it's not "great," when your man's man is throwing shade at your whole setup in Louis' head. 😬 Armand, you're barking up the wrong Rebound Tree, my guy.
The face that launched 1000 undead theatre kids into a blazing inferno. THE Louis of Troy, yaaaas~!
MESSY QUEEN.
🔥 FIRE GIFT LOUIS LFG. ️🔥
And this is likely why Louis believes what Armand said about him teaching Lestat the Mind Gift, cuz Armand taught Louis the Fire Gift.
Oh trust, we know you do, Armand. But how much does LOUIS know? 👀 ESPECIALLY when he doesn't go on hunts with y'all.
This can only end well.... 😬😈
AMC knows what they're doing--you knooooow that would've hurt Les to his core, if he knew Lou said ILY to Armand after only 1.5 years, when he (allegedly) never said it once to Lestat in 30. U_U Cuz you don't effing deserve it yet, Lestat! It's no skin off Lou's back to say that to Armand, cuz he's not REALLY giving up anything. He's not joining their stupid coven, and he's fine with them killing him. But Lou admitting that he loves Lestat means he'd have to take accountability for his COMPLICITY in everything that went wrong in his life, and that he chose Lestat over his entire family, his religion, his self respect, his sanity, ALL of it, for some heinous blonde Frenchman, lord have mercy. 😔 It's a hard pill to swallow.
And he's REALLY in the deep end now, if he expects his imaginary (boy)friend to start keeping promises. 🤦
#interview with the vampire#iwtv tvc metas#loumand#loustat#pyromaniac du lac#the hype is real#must see tv
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winter story ❄️☃️
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
7:43, you checked your watch, the bus you usually took to school was late and that was more than enough to earn you a tardy slip. You sighed softly, kicking some frozen pebbles on the snow coated cement. “How long is this going to take?” you whispered to yourself.
You hesitated whether to sit on the metal bench or not, sitting on a cold, metal bench wasn’t the best idea but your legs were getting tired from standing up for too long, so you didn’t have much choice.
What you did have though was your backpack and you did the most reasonable thing a man would do, which was to forget about all the things inside your bag and use it as a pad to distance yourself from the cold metal as you sat on your warm bag.
The weather was cold but not cold enough for school to close and you knew you guys weren’t going to get a snowstorm any time soon hence explaining why you’re sitting on your backpack to wait for your bus at 7 in the morning.
Few minutes passed by but there was still no signs of the bus. You got bored and started tapping your shoes to a beat as you hummed along to your favorite song, then you added your fingers into the mix and flicked the metal seat on the beat.
That was until you heard someone say “Is that (the song you were humming)?”, you paused for a second and kept your head down for as long as possible until it was too awkward to keep looking down.
“Uh, yeah…” you mumbled with an awkward smile but who could blame you? What were you supposed to do, plus the guy was mad fine.
“I love that song.” He smiled. You observed as his eyes creased with a soft blush on his cheeks either from the cold or from… you.
“Oh yeah, me too! You like (the band name) too?” You questioned, the awkward smile fading into a real one. “Yeah! They’re really good, especially their album (album name)” he chuckled.
You couldn’t quite figure out if the thing making him so attractive was his looks, his music taste or the cute blush his nose.
Before you could say something though the bus pulled up on the spot, great. You stood up and pulled your bag up only to stumble, the strands of your bag were stuck on the metal pole.
“Crap!” You hissed pulling harder, the more you pulled the more it got stuck somehow and was on the verge of ripping. “Hey, let me help.” The guy cut in luckily.
With a swift motion he turned the strand around and freed it from the metal pole. “Thanks…” you muttered, a hint of red creeping up on your face.
The bus doors hissed, signaling that the doors were closing. Not wanting to wait for the next one for an hour, you practically jumped inside.
You scanned your student card and sat in the empty window seat. It was so hard to find empty seats let alone one next to a window, you could call it your lucky day but from the events you just witnessed, not really.
You felt series of shuffling next to you and turned around to face him, your savior— okay, maybe chill on the nicknames.
“Sorry, there were no other seats left.” He apologized but you knew he didn’t mean it because you also didn’t see it as an apology, you were kinda glad there were no other seats left.
You told him that he didn’t need to apologize because this was a public bus (totally not because you also happened to enjoy his company) and that it was alright.
One thing led to another and you actually figured out more about him; his name was Bill, he went to your school, he lived right across your block and he was in a band!
“Do you wanna listen to (band name) together?” He asked pulling out headphones from his pocket, “Yeah, I would love to!”.
He handed you the left bud and for the whole ride to school you listened to (song of choice). So much better than the music some guys phone played as he swiped on instagram reels.
Since you guys were in the same school you both got off at the same time and walked to school from the bus stop talking about an upcoming concert.
Bill was really talkative and you liked that, you weren’t the most talkative person if it wasn’t for your friends and seeing someone who didn’t have an issue talking to strangers made you feel safe just being around him.
“(your nickname)!” Your friend called before jumping on you, “Hey, Cleo!” You replied hugging her back. Fiona followed after Cleo holding her backpack for her, “Good morning, Y/N.” Fiona smiled.
“Morning Fi.” You greeted, both of their eyes fell at the tall handsome guy next to you gave them a warm smile. “This is Bill, Bill these are my friends.” you introduced them to each other, you didn’t expect them to become close but jokes on you Bill was more social than you thought.
“I love your new boyfriend.” Cleo whispered with a wink, you turned best red and prayed that Bill who was in mid conversation with Fiona didn’t hear. (he definitely heard)
“Bill!” A voice shouted as all of you turned to the side, an angry boy with blonde dreads was stomping his way towards Bill, his two friends trying their best to catch him in time before he swings.
“Where the hell were you?” The boy shouted once more, not seeming to realize or care that you and your friends were also there. “The bust stop? I waited for an hour Tom!” Bill yelled back his hands resting on his sides.
Tom looked around in anger and must’ve noticed you guys because he softened up and dropped the argument.
“Wait, are you two twins?” Cleo asked with utter shock, to be honest you were shocked too. “Yeah.” Bill rolled his eyes, “Don’t you roll—“ Tom started before the boy with long straight hair covered his mouth.
“Hey, my names Cleo…” Cleo greeted the blonde fluffy haired boy, with an awkward smile he shook her hand, Gustav and Cleo, love in first sight you would argue.
Tom escaped out of the boys grip and was fist fighting him, Bill turned around to you and mumbled an apology about how sorry he was about his friends.
“Don’t be, they’re funny.” You chuckled as both of you watched Tom fight the other boy who’s name was Georg so Bill told you.
The bell rang before any of you could get in a word and so you had to separate your ways.
~•~
After the first few periods you and the girls met up in your usual spot, behind the bleachers, what you didn’t expect was a couple of boys to crash your party.
“Mind if we sit?” Bill asked as you nodded and moved a little to the right just enough so Bill could sit next to you comfortably (to bill anywhere you were sitting was comfortable but 🤷♀️)
“We’re sorry about the fight earlier.” Georg smiled apologetically, “No we’re not—“ and with that Tom was once again silenced by Georg’s hand.
“Do you guys wanna… eat lunch together?” Fiona asked, you looked around to see the others reactions and when they were all positive you two also nodded.
“Should we go back inside? I feel like it’s getting a bit cold.” Cleo suggested, you liked the cold but had to agree with her on this one, it was as if the weather had dropped down to -15 degrees all of a sudden.
That’s when you felt something heavy on your shoulders, Bill’s leather jacket was now resting on your shoulders, “You were shaking so I thought—“ you cut him mid sentence by hugging him as an act of gratitude.
Before the lunch bell rang you were all already inside, lunch looked absolutely horrifying so you guys went into the canteen instead.
It was empty since everyone was at lunch and it was all the space you guys needed. You guys sat in a large table for 7 and started chatting away.
“So you’re in a band?” Fiona asked with a cocked eyebrow, “Yes,” Tom replied “Georg’s the bassist, Gustav is our drummer, Bill is the lead singer and I’m the eye candy.”
“Eye candy?” Cleo asked as Bill hit Tom once in the head, “The guitarist, he’s the guitarist.” With Tom shrugging “Same thing.”
The conversation seemed to be going well until all the windows in the canteen slammed shut. Jump scaring all of you.
You stood up to look outside and that’s when you realized that there was an ongoing snow storm outside, and an angry one with that.
“How is this possible?…” you mumbled, there was no way of an incoming snow storm, there hadn’t been one in your city since the 90’s probably.
The group stood up and ran towards the windows, “Holy fuck…”, it was getting harder by each second almost wiping down the entire town.
It wasn’t long before the school announced lockdown and that all students must remain still until they tell them not to.
“What?”, “Are we stuck in the canteen?”, “What do you mean stay still?” Kind of sentences floated around the room.
“It’s alright it will probably take like an hour maximum.” Georg said leaning against his chair, “It doesn’t look like it…” you mumbled and were probably right because the storm kept getting worse and worse.
“Should we lock the doors and windows?” Fiona asked and all of you nodded in union. You locked the windows with Bill and Tom as the rest tried to figure out how to lock a glass door.
“Okay everyone back away from the windows.” Bill announced and made all of you take a seat away from the possible dangers in your way.
“Now what?” Tom asked, “What do you mean ‘now what’?”, Georg scoffed, “I mean what do we do now, wait until it ends? How long is it going to take? Forever?”
You chuckled at the amount of drama Tom was causing as Bill sighed sitting next to you with his hands locked in front of him.
“Yes Tom, we’ll be here for an eternity and will probably die here.” Fiona said with a faux smile as Gustav tried to pull the group together.
You guys had all met a few hours ago and now was going to spend the rest of you day or maybe even your week stuck in a canteen, together.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
a/n: sorry if this isn’t what you guys expected but I needed some sort of twist 😭
also I’m keeping your options open just in case you wanna date someone else 🥰 (the story is based on bill but I might add some angst 🤷♀️)
@the-dumpster-fire-of-life
#tokio hotel#bill kaulitz#tom kaulitz#georg listing#gustav schäfer#tokio hotel fanfic#tokio hotel x reader#bill kaulitz x reader#tokio hotel bill kaulitz#fluff#tokio hotel x you#tokio x reader#tokio hotel tom kaulitz#tokio hotel imagine#tokio hotel georg#tokio hotel gustav schafer#bill kaulitz fluff#bill kaulitz x you#bill kaulitz imagines#bill kaulitz icons#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz imagines#tom kaulitz fanfic#georg listing imagines#georg listing fanfic#georg listing x reader#gustav schafer x reader#gustav schafer fanfic#gustav schafer fluff#help
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