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thef1diary · 2 months

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Little Big Fan | Eight

— Little Big Allergy

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.6k

Note: I am not a medical professional, so please let me know if something is incorrect

"Don't you dare think about cancelling, you are going on that date," your best friend's voice rang out of your phone on speaker while you were choosing a dress for tonight.

You turned to look at the phone, as if your best friend was standing there, "I'm not going to cancel, I just don't know what to wear," you responded, placing another dress against your body but frowning.

"Wear that one sexy red dress you have, who knows, you might just get laid tonight."

You shuffled through your closet, finding the red dress in the back, which was expected since you didn't wear it in a long time. You held it out in front of you, "don't you think it's too revealing for the first date? Maybe I could wear this next time."

It was a backless, short garment with two straps. While the back was revealing, so was the front, which featured two cutouts around the hips and exposed a bit of cleavage due to the lack of material.

Your friend hummed, "so we're planning a second date as well huh?" You could basically hear her smirk on the other end. "Well I hope this date goes well," you reasoned, but the jittery feeling didn't go away.

"You and Max are already good friends who happen to flirt occasionally, what could go wrong?" Then after a short pause, she added, "actually no, don't answer that. Try your blue dress, I bet he'd like to see you in blue."

After almost every interaction you've had with Max, starting from the grocery store, you've told your friend everything. Which is why when she suggested wearing blue, you weren't opposed to it.

Putting your red dress back in the closet for another time, which was hopefully soon, you held a navy blue dress in your hand, examining it before holding it up against your body.

While this one, like the red dress, had two straps holding it together, it was longer, reaching a few inches past your knees and including a little slit down the side for convenience.

"Alright, this is the one," you stated and continued conversing with your friend while you changed and began doing your makeup.

"So Bella is at Tyler's?" She asked, making you nod before realizing that she couldn't see you. "Yeah, she'll be there for the weekend."

"Oh how fun!" You could hear the sarcasm in her voice and chuckled, "it's fine, she should be spending time with her dad."

"The same one who called her overdramatic? Did you seriously have to have a kid with a guy like him?" This was a conversation you've had with her many times, and you would always reply with the same answer, "we were young and immature, but Isabella is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"She truly is, which makes me glad that she turned out like you more than him." You chuckled, "oh trust me, I am glad about that too. It would've been a nightmare if I had to see a little version of him all the time."

"So, speaking of Isabella, how are you going to tell her that you are dating someone who happens to be her favourite person in her favourite sport?"

You groaned, "I don't know, I really don't know. I can't stop thinking about it, because of what Tyler told me," you explained. "Are you still believing his words? Actually scratch that, why are you letting your ex determine your future relationship?"

"God, why do you have to ask such questions," you muttered, taking a moment to think about your response.

"I don't want to believe him, I have a feeling something else happened that day which he didn't tell me about. Plus he's not only my ex, he's the father of my child. I don't think of him as anything more than that."

"Honestly that asshole shouldn't even be considered the father of such a beautiful little girl," your friend stated, and you couldn't help but agree with her.

"Anyways, let's not talk about him, I don't want to ruin my mood before the night even starts," you comment, with your friend humming in agreement.

"You're right, let's talk about Max!" She exclaimed, making you chuckle. That's whom you ended up talking about for the remainder of the time you were getting ready.

Even though she knew all the details right from day one, she wanted another whole story time of how you and Max met, leading up to when he asked you out. Instead of opposing to repeat the story, which you don't even know how many times you've told her by now, you happily told her all the details as if it was the first time.

A few minutes after you ended the phone call with your best friend, your phone rang again which you initially thought was a call from Max. However, it was a call from an unknown number.

You answered the call, and you were met with a woman's panicking voice on the other end, "is this Isabella's mother?"

"Yes, who is this?" You asked first, calming down the inner voices that instantly thought about the worse possible scenario involving your daughter.

"I'm Emma, I don't know if you know me but I am actually at the hospital, with Isabella." You tightened your grasp on the phone, as it was close to slipping away from your hands at Emma's words.

"What happened and which hospital are you at?" You instantly began moving around your house, finding your car keys as you waited for a response.

Emma told you the address as you were leaving through the front door. "She had a severe allergic reaction, and I thought it would be best to bring her to the hospital. I am sorry for disturbing you, I wasn't able to get in touch with Tyler."

You took a deep breath in, knowing that it was bound to happen someday, even though you would rather not have it happen at all. "I'm on my way, should be there in ten minutes. Thank you for letting me know."

It would've been pointless to argue with her, especially since she was the one who informed you of the situation at hand and had the decency to take your daughter to the hospital.

You rushed into the hospital within eight minutes, a record time for you, and you might've broken a few speeding laws but it was for a good reason. It didn't take too long finding Isabella, considering she was in the ER, with a frantic woman standing nearby, whom you assumed was Emma.

As soon as she spotted you, her first words to you was another apology, "I am so, so sorry, I had no idea she had a peanut allergy." That led you towards one question, well more than one but you started off with just one, "what happened?"

She sighed, before telling you how she spent the entire day with Isabella. "One of my friends came by and dropped off some baked goods, I swear I had no idea that it had peanuts in it."

You reasoned that if you calmed her down, it would calm you down as well, because the increasing dread in your thoughts would not benefit you in any situation. You put your hands on her shoulders, "I'm not blaming you for it, you didn't know."

You looked at the doors leading to the ER, "how bad was it?" Emma hesitated before muttering words that made your heart ache, "really bad, she started swelling up everywhere and then passed out."

You tried to sit down, but the need to know her well-being caused you to walk back and forth in the hallway. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you were about to ignore it until you recalled something really important.

"Shit!" Max was calling. Of course he was, after all he was expecting you to be home and ready for a date tonight.

"Hey, I'm standing at your front door, are you home or?" He started and awkwardly chuckled, causing you to shut your eyes, imagining how the night was expected to go. He was probably holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like an idiot standing by the door because you weren't home.

"Max, I'm so sorry, I'm actually at the hospital." There was no reason to lie, but even after telling the truth, you didn't feel any less guilty.

"What happened? Are you okay? Is Isabella okay?" His response was quick, and slightly surprising but you've known Max long enough that his kindness wasn't as shocking anymore.

"It's Isabella, allergic reaction," you briefly described, and heard some shuffling around on the other end before he asked for the address. "You don't have to come," you told him as you normally did, but he didn't agree again, saying "I want to."

You didn't argue with him, as your heart warmed at the fact that Max wanted to see Isabella himself, and stay right by your side until she was completely fine.

Quickly telling him the address as you noticed a doctor walking towards you and Emma, you hung up the call. "Which one of you is the patient's guardian?"

You stepped forward, "I'm her mother, how is she?"

"It was an anaphylactic allergic reaction, however everything is under control. We've administered epinephrine but we will be moving her to the ICU for a few hours just for observation purposes in case the symptoms are back."

You let out a sigh in relief, as did Emma. "Thank you," you nodded towards the doctor. Once they left, you sat down, the anxiousness leaving your body.

Looking at Emma, who was standing against the wall in front of you, you had another question brewing in your mind. "Where was Tyler when all this happened?" You asked, remembering that she called you only because she couldn't reach him.

"He said he had an emergency meeting come up," Emma spoke her words carefully, earning raised eyebrows from you. "He left you alone with my daughter?" You had to confirm the words you were hearing and scoffed once she nodded.

"It's not your responsibility to take of my child, it's his. You're not her guardian nor babysitter, you shouldn't have to do that." Emma shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "it's not the first time."

"How dare he?" You muttered under your breath before standing up and stepping closer to her. "We both have epipens for situations like this, and I am assuming that since you didn't know about her allergy, Tyler didn't tell you about the epipen either?”

Emma shook her head, "no, he didn't."

His lack of attention, led Isabella right to this moment. If he had told Emma about your daughter's allergy, or even what to do when she has allergic reaction, neither of you would be this worried about her health.

Emma, having realizing the depth of the situation, sighed, "I haven't been able to get a hold of him and if it weren't for Isabella constantly talking about you and telling me your phone number to the point where I had it memorized, I wouldn't have known what to do in this situation."

You pitied the woman standing in front of you, especially as you also knew that it was not her fault. You cracked a smile, "she talks about me huh?"

"Oh yeah, she considers you the best mother in the world, and based on her stories, I agree with her."

Then, you heard Max calling your name, walking towards you in a rush. He instantly wrapped an arm around your waist as if it was an instinct, "is she okay?"

Emma stepped away, picking up her phone for another useless attempt of calling her boyfriend.

You wrapped both arms around Max, bringing him in a hug, "yeah, she's okay."

Once he pulled back, he cradled your face with his palms, "are you okay?" You smiled, and your eyes filled with unshed tears because of his question. "Much better now."

Then, Max noticed your outfit which happened to be the dress you were supposed to wear on your date. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze unwavering, taking you in.

He was also dressed up, wearing a suit with a bow tie, and you couldn't help but reach up to touch it, "cute," you commented, making him raise his brows.

"Cute?" He repeated with a questioning tone. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to prevent a smile. "Cute and handsome."

"You are beautiful," he replied, watching as you avert your eyes because his gaze was intense.

"Oh, Max, this is Emma," you decided to introduce them, and added, "she's the one who brought Isabella here."

Max raised an eyebrow in question, "I thought Isabella was with Tyler?" He asked, directed at you more than Emma.

"Well, he wasn't home when this happened, only Emma and Isabella," you stated, and Max gauged your emotions for a moment, quickly recognizing the underlying rage you had directed at your ex. Max knew you'd be discussing this later, in the safety of your own house, so he didn't ask you to elaborate.

A nurse came by, "Isabella is now conscious, and asking for her parents," they stated, along with the room number.

Emma looked at you and Max with a fond smile, before turning towards you, "I think I should get going now that you're here."

A genuine smile graced your lips, "thank you, Emma, for bringing her here and for staying with her even without him."

"Of course, she's the cutest little girl and I'm glad to get to know her." Both of you stood still for a moment, debating on whether or not you should hug her. Then, without thinking twice you initiated a hug that was easily welcomed by her.

You waited till she left your sights before looking at Max, "let's go?" You held out your hand but he shrugged, "she's asking for her parents, you should go."

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand, "you're coming with me," you decided for him. Although Max didn't pull away, he asked, "what if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me, she'll be happy to see you," you convinced him and walked towards the room she was admitted in while holding each other's hand.

When you entered, Isabella's smile widened once she spotted you and Max. "Mama, Maxy!" She cheered, though quieter than usual.

A nurse stood by her side, monitoring her health and checking the IV drip inserted into your daughter's arm.

"Oh my angel, how are you?" You dropped Max's hand and walked closer to her, lightly kissing her forehead. Instead of a verbal response, she formed a thumbs up with her hand.

Then she looked at the door again, "is daddy coming too?" Isabella asked, sounding hopeful. You shook your head, "no sweetheart, daddy is not coming."

Instead of the usual deflated mood, she shrugged, "it's okay, Maxy's here." She held her arms around asking for a hug, only flinching for a moment since she forgot about the drip connected to her arm.

Max quickly stepped forward, bending over to hug her. "All good, Bella?" He asked, once he felt her arms wrap around him tighter. She nodded for a moment then shook her head against him, "it hurts," she whispered.

He brought his hand up to ruffle her hair before pulling away, "you are a very brave girl."

"Really?" She asked, and scooted over a little so Max could sit beside her. He nodded, "of course! Very brave."

She beamed, snuggling closer to him before looking at you. "Mama, come here," she patted the other side, and surprisingly the three of you were able to fit on the very small hospital bed.

A nurse was constantly in the room, checking in on Isabella's health from time to time and since there weren't any repeated symptoms of an allergic reaction, the three of you were out of the hospital in a few hours.

Max followed you in his car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside the house. Instead of taking her straight to her bedroom, he laid her down on the couch in case she wakes up and needs her mother.

It was safe to say that you were not going too far away from her any time soon.

You were in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water when he returned. He stood behind you, with his hands trailing down your sides before resting on your waist, and his chin on your shoulder. "Did I tell you how stunning you look?"

You hummed, "maybe a few times but I don't mind hearing it again."

He turned you around in his grasp, "well, you look breathtakingly beautiful."

You blushed, "you and your compliments," you chuckled. "What's wrong with it?" He asked, but you shook your head, "nothing, it's just I'll never get bored of hearing it."

He smiled, "good, because you'll be hearing at least one every day."

You tilted your head to the side, "every day? Are you sure you won't run out?" He shook his head, "not unless you keep finding ways to make me speechless."

Both of you remained in that position for a moment but then you frowned, "I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He tilted your chin up as soon as you averted your gaze away from him. "We weren't able to go on the date."

Max let out a sound in protest, "I'm pretty sure your daughter's health matters so much more than our date night. Plus the night isn't over," he added with a smile, confusing you even further.

"What does that mean?" He parted away from you and it quickly made you miss the warmth that his body provided you. "Why don't you go change into something comfortable," he suggested, almost pushing you out of the kitchen.

You weren't opposed to the idea, so you went upstairs to change after checking on your daughter. You found the most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and removed your makeup as well.

Walking back downstairs, you saw Max waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you. He had removed his blazer and bow tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as well.

He held out his hand, waiting for your hand to hold his, and although you were confused, you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hold his hand.

"It's not much, definitely not up to first date standards but we'll manage," he commented as he led you to the kitchen table where he had prepared two packets of instant noodles.

"I haven't been on a date in forever so anything you do will set my standards." You smiled when you noticed the lit candle.

"Well, then I will raise your standards next time by taking you out on a proper date." He held the chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before rounding the table and sitting down himself.

It took two minutes before Max moved his own chair right next to yours because he didn't want to sit on the opposite side. You chuckled at his antics but it was much appreciated.

"What's on your mind?" he asked once he saw you visibly thinking. You shrugged, "I don't think we should be discussing these thoughts on a first date."

"This is far from what a first date should be like, so there are no rules. I know you want to talk about what happened at the hospital," he prompted and he was spot on, so you agreed.

"I can't believe he actually left Isabella under Emma's supervision. Not that there is anything wrong with her, but it's not her responsibility!" Max nodded in agreement, "where was he?"

"In a fucking meeting," you exasperated, eating another forkful of the noodles. "It must've been very stressful for Emma," you sighed, finishing your short rant because you truly had no words for your ex's irresponsible behaviour.

Still, Max listened to every word. Once you were finished eating, he turned your chair towards him. "We can agree on the fact that he is an incompetent father."

"Yeah, I don't even know what would've happened if Emma wasn't there either. He surely wouldn't have left Bella alone right?"

Max shrugged, "hey, stop worrying about what could've happened. Bella's safe, she's okay." He placed a palm on your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

You nodded, "you're right." Making eye contact with him, you were quickly lost in his gaze. While it almost made you want to look away, you couldn't.

"You know," you started, wanting to divert away from the current topic. He hummed, urging you to go on.

"I don't really care for an extravagant date, all I really need is you. I'm happy with this, with us." He smiled, to the point where you could notice the creases forming at the corners.

"I'm happy with us too, but I will be taking you out on an extravagant date because you deserve it, as well as much more."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing that it would be hard to convince Max otherwise, but you could think of a few ways to try when the time comes.

"Thank you for being here with me," you added, needing him to know about your appreciation. Your words also hinted at all the moments he shared with you, and Isabella.

He seemed to understand your hint, "I'm glad to be here with you, both of you."

Taglist: (continuing the taglist in comments) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo

#little big fan fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 fluff #fluff

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starsstuddedsky · 11 months

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Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much.

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt.

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily.

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway.

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say.

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him.

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything.

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted.

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings.

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him.

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.”

“And why am I here?”

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly.

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?”

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you.

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.”

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours.

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one.

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.”

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road.

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.”

“What is wrong with my taste in music?”

“No comment.”

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine.

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.”

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe.

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up.

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you.

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap.

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway.

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy.

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child.

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make.

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door.

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child.

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child.

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.”

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?”

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts.

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you.

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go.

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time.

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten.

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.”

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you.

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper.

“I have self-control.”

“Wanna bet?”

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are.

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile.

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying?

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second.

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.”

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck.

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?”

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles.

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness.

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head.

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible.

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.”

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again.

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst.

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most.

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?”

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?”

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?”

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart.

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.”

“Of what?”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.”

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?”

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.”

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes.

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.”

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move?

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know.

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.”

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?”

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say.

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?”

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.”

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory.

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real.

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing.

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet.

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again.

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it.

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile.

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?”

“Always.”

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it.

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say.

His laughter bounces you. “No way.”

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.”

“I'll stay strong.”

“What if I want a kitten?”

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.”

“Sucker.”

“Only for you.”

thank you for reading <3

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ckret2 · 4 months

Text

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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slayfics · 6 months

Text

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fanfic about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter three: You ask Katsuki how his internship is going.

Chapter links

After the sports festival, agencies scouted students who they wanted to offer internships for. Your internship kept you busy, with barely any time to rest.

You couldn't help but wonder how the internships with your other classmates were going. However, even though you had been at U.A. for a while now, you still hadn't made too many close connections with any of your classmates.

It wasn't that you didn't care for them, but everyone seemed to be a bit more extroverted than you and easily talked to one another. You never really found an opening to join in on any conversations unless someone personally asked you something.

This happened far and in between but was usually either Mina or Eijiro. Mina sometimes asks you about trivial things like where you get your accessories. Eijiro sometimes spouted out random words of encouragement at you. His enthusiasm always made you jump.

The only other person you had talked to at all was Katsuki, and that was never during school at all, and like the last two times it only occurred because you'd message him first.

You kind of began to feel like you might be a nuisance since he never messaged you on his own, but having a short amount of downtime you wanted to ask what someone else's internship was like. You opened your phone and messaged Katsuki.

Hey, how is your internship going?

It's fucking crap.

Wow really? You're with Best Jeanist though!

He spends way too long giving me dumb fucking makeovers. It's stupid, I'm not even learning anything.

What! No way makeovers? I want to see!

In your dreams idiot.

Aw fine- at least tell me what he did though!

Fuck no.

Come on, I'm sure it's not that bad.

Fine, only if you promise to stop pestering me about it!

Promise.

He messes with my hair every goddamn day. Taking up time that we could be doing something useful. The worst part is I can't even get this crap out of my hair.

I can help if you want.

Nice try nerd, no way I'm letting you see.

Bakugo I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Let me help. I won't tell anyone about it.

Do you really think you get this out of my hair?

Yeah, I've got some tricks.

Fine.

Just like the other two times before, Katsuki was at your window shortly. You opened it to let him in and had to immediately cover your mouth to suppress a laugh. Katsuki's hair was slicked straight down with an overwhelming amount of gel in it.

"If you fucking even let out a breath of laughter I'll kill you!" He warned seeing your snickering face.

"Oh my god-," Your sides collapsed while holding in your laughter. "How much damn gel did he use??"

"You see what I'm talking about! This internship is a fucking waste of time!" Katsuki yelled back.

"Yeah this is pretty criminal," You agreed. "Why is he concerned about your hair anyway?" You asked and grabbed a comb, spray bottle, and towel.

"That's what I'm saying! This crap isn't important for hero work! He makes all his sidekicks and interns look like this." Katsuki said and sat on your floor.

You sat behind him and sprayed at his hair to get it wet then rubbed the towel over his hair, "I understand if he wants you to look professional but this completely ruins the rugged sexy look you usually go for," you spoke.

"Hu?" Katsuki exclaimed and turned around to eye for a second.

"Oh uh-," You felt your face get hot for a second. Why the hell did you just say that? "It's just um- every hero has a different look they go for you know? He should respect this isn't you," you said trying to recover from what you just said.

"Yeah, right," Katsuki dropped it and turned back around as you continued to work on his hair. You both sat in silence for as you worked on his hair. The awkwardness that had taken over the room felt suffocating.

"How is your internship going?" Katsuki asked, breaking the unbearable silence.

"Not too bad, I'm learning a lot," You said.

"Tch, must be nice," He grumbled.

"Don't be too upset, this isn't forever Bakugo," You tried to cheer him up. Finally freeing only one strand of his hair. The gel was not giving up.

"I just hate wasting my goddamn time," He said resting his head in his palm as you continued to spray and comb through his hair.

"It might seem like a waste now, but I'm sure in the future at least one thing he taught you will be useful. Besides, Best Jeanist is super popular, and when you're the number one hero it'll be useful to have learned some of his professionalism," You spoke.

"What did you just say?" Katsuki asked, picking his head up from his palm.

"Like repeat all of it? Were you really not listening Bakugo?" You said slightly irritated pulling harder on his hair.

"Nah- Just... ah fuck neverminded," He grumbled, putting his head back to rest on his hand.

"What part? Tell me," You insisted.

"The part about me being the number one hero, you didn't say if you said when," He said. It had been a long time since anyone had accepted his ambition as absolute. When he was a kid his other classmates marveled and said he would be the top hero one day. But as he got older things seemed to change. Even his parents, while they encouraged him, didn't look at him the same as when he was a kid.

"What about it? Isn't that what you're always yelling about?" You asked confused.

"Yeah- well- maybe you're not that stupid after all if you know it's the truth," He said, masking whatever emotion he was truly feeling.

You laughed, "Just make sure not to ever have this hair when you're the top hero alright?" You teased him.

"Because you think it's sexy the other way right?" He teased you back bringing up your earlier remark. Your face flushed and the comb slipped out of your hand landing on the floor. As it did, Katsuki's hair suddenly poofed back up.

"Um- uh- that's not what I said-," You stuttered trying to redeem your embarrassment.

"Save it," Katsuki laughed. "You can't take it back now," He stood up and flashed you a smirk. "Not sure how you did it," He said, running his hands through his now normal hair. "But thanks... or whatever. I gotta get going, see you in class," He said and left through your window.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @anon-mouse223

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gaoau · 2 months

Text

you'll never resemble a human, so stand up on your claws and kill your own God

theory of the two demons warnings — this is set in the bsd beast universe, so if you havent read/watched that, i do not recommend reading this. theres spoilers and it probably wont make much sense anyway if you dont know what the fucks going on for everyone else that has read beast, have fun word count — 5.5k note — bonus 😝😝

prev.

"have you ever heard about the theory of the two demons?"

"i haven't. what does it say?"

"that to combat a great evil, you need an even greater evil. say, for uprisings against the government, the government can suppress the people with forced disappearances, for example."

"so it's bad against worse?"

"precisely. it cancels out. it reaches a point where evil is just the norm. a demon against another demon; do you get it?"

"i see. like… fighting fire with fire. only a demon can kill a demon."

"yeah, that's… that's a good analogy."

"where did you find this theory? it seems interesting."

"that's not important. i just thought you'd like to know about it."

"why's that?"

"so you don't resent me after i'm dead."

"i'd be surprised if you're actually mortal at all."

"now that's a very cursed thing to say, [Name]."

"my apologies, boss."

[Surname] [Name] is not required for his plans by any means, Dazai knows, but there's a needle of an unnamed feeling pricking him on the back of the head. he sits in Mori's office, reading old newspapers from two or three years ago. it's his latest special interest, so Mori doesn't question it and keeps supplying him with new material. but Mori also questions it, because Dazai doesn't give anything that isn't worth it the time of day. it is an interesting topic, he admits, but it raises his suspicions just as much.

strange murder cases across Japan are not uncommon, what with ability users running wild. he tries not to think much of it. he can't, though, not when Dazai excitedly gasps, "Mori-san! this one could be useful!" as he points to a particular article from Nagoya. spontaneous deaths concentrated in a relatively small radius—likely the work of an ability. an interesting one. one that Dazai knows he doesn't need. one that Dazai hears murmurs of from unilateral memories.

Mori hums, "what is it?" he wonders what could have possibly caught the demon prodigy's eye. but as soon as he glances over to the newspaper and the bold kanji from two years ago, a chill runs down his spine.

"spontaneous deaths, no signs of physical trauma or any diseases, unrelated and irregular victims," Dazai starts listing off. Mori knows this case like the back of his hand. "it's clearly an ability user, wouldn't you agree?" Mori's had his eye on this one for the past two years. "probably a child, too, seeing how erratic they are."

Mori thinks Dazai is aware of a lot more than he's letting on.

"we should fetch them like we did with Q. they might be an ability worth having in the mafia's arsenal."

Mori blinks blankly at the cunning child staring right back into him with an unassuming grin. suggestions of a mind with normal thoughts, those abnormal people wouldn't be able to fathom. because Dazai is not special, however his schemes may play out. he offers him a smile, a bit more strained than he wishes to express. "okay, Dazai-kun, i'll leave that to you."

and a parallel story comes to life—a story where kids can't cry, but they can pray for their lives.

it's easier to find something when knowing exactly where to look for it. Dazai doesn't waste any time paying a visit to the ruins of a research facility in Nagoya. whatever shall be rebuilt from these remains, he'll make sure it doesn't impact his plans. admittedly, he doesn't know what is waiting for him at the next location on his to-do list. among the rubble and the blood, he finds a stainless steel bracelet. he knows who it belonged to and he knows where to keep it for the sake of repentance.

after his short detour, he makes his way to Shizuoka. he's all smiles and innocence when he speaks to the lady in charge of orphaned children. when he's allowed inside and the woman calls [Name]'s attention, he hears the echo of a gunshot ringing in his ear. he remembers cursed words meant to follow him in every new page.

[Name] is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and taking up space as their legs are stretched out. one of their little brothers—Dazai doesn't know which one—sits against them, holding a book. as soon as the woman calls their name, [Name]'s head shoots up. they pat their sibling on the shoulder, chuckling at their childish whining, before approaching their beckoning mother. she introduces the two to one another with a warm grin and promptly leaves them to talk in private.

as they're sitting outside, watching children of all ages play with a ball, Dazai presents them with the cheap bracelet. "do you recognize this?" he prompts them to take it, but they don't budge. they scan the jewelry with their eyes briefly. then they shake their head. Dazai sighs, returning the bracelet to his pocket.

he lets silence settle between them, leaving space for [Name] to ask any questions. without stained walls and dying children, he wonders what this version of [Name] has to say to him. how sharp are their teeth? how deep do they bite? how much do they burn? but they don't look at him as they say, "i don't know who you are or what that bracelet is." they flinch when one of their siblings falls face first on the grass. their eyes are soft, without any trace of fear. "why are you here?"

amiability and [Name] are dissonant, Dazai thinks, but truth stands that the looming cloud of anger clinging to their shoulders doesn't exist here. he considers the many paths he can take them down, between violence and comradery. "listen," he starts, choosing to stand neutral where he knows he shouldn't disrupt, "it's your choice, but the ability you have—" [Name] snaps their neck towards him, "—is very useful, and a lot of less than nice people will come to get you for it."

the last time [Name] used Mirror Mirage was two years ago. the last person to ever know about it was a man in a lab coat. "i'm past using my ability. it's been long enough." with their family and their life, they hardly feel the need to steal from others anymore. they look Dazai in the eye with a passive stare, harmless, curious, willing. the stare of an older sibling scolding him for acting so childishly.

"about that…" he trails, rising from the bench. he can't see [Name] from his peripheral vision. he knows [Name] has no hostility within them unless he gives them some. "i was told to burn this orphanage down just to get you. but i'm being nice about it." and he won't give them any reason to bare their teeth. he's learned his lesson. he knows better from his own parallel mistakes. "you're a smart kid, aren't you?"

"are you extorting me?"

"not quite, i'm just looking out for you." a chuckle slips from his tongue. there's a fine line between his lies and his benevolence. it seems he cannot change his ways—he can only make them softer.

[Name] purses their lips in thought as they ponder over his words. "will everyone here be safe if i go with you?" they crane their neck to look up at him. he's not that much taller than them, even while standing up, wearing nothing but black, hiding behind his bangs and bandages. he still feels unreachable, too big and too lonely, like he takes up too much space whether he wants to or not.

"you can watch over them yourself," Dazai reassures them. he takes a step and turns to face them, offering them his bandaged hand.

"okay then." without a moment's hesitation, they reach for his fingers. they rise to their feet. "i'll go with you."

"welcome to the Port Mafia, [Name]."

Dazai feels in their hand the moment they realize exactly who he is and where he comes from. they blink owlishly at him as he smiles back without a trace of animosity. [Name] relaxes their muscles, now knowing they've made the correct choice. later that same week, they meet again with the man in the lab coat; the head of the Port Mafia itself.

it's fleeting, [Name] realizes, but it's very much there—the unadulterated, baseless animosity creeping up their legs. when they walk into the training room on their first day, Dazai is waiting for them while leaning against the wall. they see it in his eye as he turns his head to look at them. it's a hollow stare, a bottomless pit of strife, reaching out in echoes from the sobs of a child. his lips curl into a small smile. [Name] feels the hairs on their nape bristling in alarm, like there's a bigger threat looming nearby, but all they can see is Dazai.

and Dazai, with that look in his eyes and that simper on his lips, is not a threat at all.

when he's standing so close to them, when he isn't hiding in the sunlight, he feels much smaller. it's almost as if they could see his hands shaking. it's almost as if they could see the tears wanting to overflow. there's a stirring in their stomach where pain bubbles, purely and innocently. Dazai is so, so far away.

he pushes himself off the wall and stands across from [Name]. stepping closer, he finds it unusual to not see their muscles tense in alarm. then he remembers the usual hasn't been established yet. "those scars…" his sentence dies down as he tastes the words. they feel familiar on his tongue, so he finds a way to flip them upside down. "do you want to die, [Name]?" his eye casts down to their uncovered arms. they look the same.

"i'm sorry?"

a sigh tumbles from his lips. "your scars, those are self-inflicted."

"ah." instinctively, [Name]'s fingers reach up to touch their neck. Dazai doesn't look at them. "there was a time, back in the labs. i've grown out of it." they speak nonchalantly, shrugging their shoulders and acting like craving death was nothing more than a short phase. a little something they tried for fun and stopped once they got bored of it—it doesn't follow them, it doesn't cling to them, it has left them alone because they don't want to die anymore.

"why?"

"what do you mean?"

"why did you want to die?"

he sees how [Name] stops to give it some thought. their eyes flicker down and to the side briefly, then return to him, alive. "i'm not sure. it was just easy."

"those tests they ran on you," he prompts.

"yeah." they blink and something flashes in their eyes. it's unnoticeable, but Dazai can see it clearly. he considers briefly, just briefly, keeping his mouth shut. [Name] continues with an explanation that only makes sense to normal people like themself and Dazai, "living things became trivial."

"and by consequence, so did you."

[Name] nods. it's odd, they think, how easily he understands without them explaining a jumbled mess of forgotten thoughts. maybe it isn't that odd, especially considering he's read their files already. "do you want to die, Dazai-san?" but they see him as soon as their question slips from their tongue.

"yes."

in a quick answer with no hesitation, [Name] sees the innocent boy on the verge of tears. he's gritting his teeth and covering his ears with trembling hands. [Name] grimaces, because the closer they try to step, the smaller he becomes. so scared, so lonely, so vulnerable. they feel sorry for him. they pity him. he feels just like another little sibling from the orphanage, one [Name] could easily hold until his breathing settles down again. but as soon as they blink, he fades away, melting into the shadows where they can't reach. in his stead, they meet Dazai's hollow stare.

[Name]'s fingers twitch on instinct. "can i ask why?" they think, ignoring the bristling hairs on the back of their nape, that Dazai has been standing alone and alienated for far too long.

"some may call me a fool," he answers, voice light and airy, shrugging it off like it's something he's heard a billion times before. but then [Name] feels it again, when he looks them right in the eye, the unnerving animosity trying to drag them down. it's as if he's looking at someone else—looking at words he's heard from the same voice, but not quite the same person. "others," he emphasizes, "may call me a coward."

[Name] recoils. they take a step backwards. that statement—that complaint—was not directed at them, [Name] understands, but it was directly for them.

Dazai lets a chuckle drift into the silence. he recognizes he shouldn't be speaking anymore. he recedes and takes his contempt off [Name] with him. "is that enough of an answer for you?"

"i think… it's your choice." ([Name] tries—wants—to understand.) "whether you want to tell me or not."

they don't bite. "you're a lot more agreeable," Dazai hums. in a world in which he hasn't stolen anything from them, [Name] has no reason to bite back. if he hadn't been so childish, maybe they could have held a conversation like this in the right story.

[Name] contemplates asking for clarification, but they keep their mouth shut as Dazai steps closer. he feels small again. he's a kid. he's nothing but a kid, all over again.

with weightless steps, he stands a few feet away from [Name]. "attack me with all you've got."

Dazai can recite this scene from memory. [Name] hesitates, argues, and he makes sure they understand where their loyalties should lie from the get-go. he's long decided to teach them the same lessons in a different way. their attack is as predictable as the first time; he wastes not a single second striking his leg against their ribcage. as [Name] bounces off the wall, Dazai sighs to himself.

"lesson number one," his voice echoes through the training room, "don't rely on your ability alone." he watches unblinking while [Name] struggles to pick themself up from the floor. "you're gonna need a lot of martial arts training."

[Name] can barely register any of his words when their mouth is overflowing with blood.

Dazai gives them time to stand back up on their feet. quietly, he turns towards the door. "that's all for today." [Name]'s blurry eyes follow him as he begins heading out. his back is so, so small. "the closest infirmary is on the ground floor. same time tomorrow, yeah?" he stops at the door, glancing over his shoulder.

finding support on the wall, [Name] clutches the forming bruise on their side, stumbling in an attempt to stay balanced. their head spins, but they answer, "…yeah, okay…" despite the sickening taste of blood on their tongue.

"i'll use a gun, so be ready."

"…gotcha."

[Name] listens to their own choked breathing and takes a moment to properly stabilize themself. Dazai hears an echo in his brain, voices from the dead he has never heard, but he nonetheless remembers. it haunts him, whether he wants them to or not, because wisdom only has worth when a writer is dead. he takes it upon himself to not stress [Name] out too much. promptly, he exits the training room, leaving the door wide open for [Name] to follow once they gather their bearings again.

they think, while heading for the door, that Dazai is simply a lonely kid drowning in future regrets.

Dazai knows better than anyone—or rather, he's the only who knows—that he cannot interfere where he isn't allowed. the best example of this is [Name]'s natural gravitation towards Chuuya. he lets the years pass, working for things to play out the exact same way, changing the course only where it's needed for his plan. while he's busy throwing a quiet tantrum in a former assassin's apartment, he leaves [Name] in Chuuya's hands.

Nakahara Chuuya has read [Name]'s files—only the most relevant ones, because it would take him a lifetime to even scan through everything that has been documented since the moment of their birth. empathy simmers in his chest in the face of another humane monster built from experiments.

that which resembles a human. resembling humans, all of them, dancing on a chessboard in someone else's pocket.

however smart Mori may be, however much respect he may have for the boss, Chuuya believes leaving a kid with suicidal tendencies to a suicidal bastard is undeniably cruel. [Name] is nothing like Dazai, because they value life, because they don't regret being born, because they don't taunt death in an attempt to free themself. and yet despite knowing they are so, so different from the demon prodigy, there still is something. there is something, and Chuuya doesn't know what, but it's very much there. something in their eyes, something very deep in a parallel mirror; something on the scar on their neck and something in their voice.

something, whatever it is, making [Name] feel horribly similar to Dazai.

Chuuya has seen his friends die time and time again. that's just the way the mafia works. he fears he's going to see [Name] end up being another corpse in a pile of distant memories.

after a strenuous day of training, he offers them a cigarette. the more they take from him, the less they'll follow in Dazai's footsteps—he hopes, at least, because Dazai has a plan. Chuuya doesn't know what it is or why he's so determined to see it come to fruition, but he does know no one is safe. so he leans against the wall, taking another drag, listening as [Name] explains their experience in the research facility. out of curiosity, out of concern.

if there's an input, there's an output.

[Name] shakes ashes off their cigarette. they finish their retelling with a closing thought of, "at some point, the concept of life became trivial, as Dazai-san put it." it sounds natural and it rolls off their tongue with the tone of an older sibling. Chuuya argues that it sounds dissonant; that agreeing with Dazai shouldn't be a willing choice. "i could kill anyone and anything, but i couldn't kill myself. they wouldn't let me."

he sighs heavily, "that explains why you feel so much like that lousy suicidal bastard."

with the way [Name] turns to blink owlishly at him, he'd think he's offended them. their brows furrow in thought for a moment, before they chuckle sardonically. "i think Dazai-san's in a league of his own." as a pained afterthought, they add, "sadly." they cast their gaze down to their shoes, a grimace twisting their face. pity burns on their tongue. "there really isn't anyone out there to feel so much like him."

"hopefully," Chuuya snarls, rolling his eyes, "there really shouldn't be."

"do you hate him that much, Chuuya-san? i know he's a lot to handle, but he's just throwing a tantrum." the laughter that falls from their lips is ironic. they don't mean it. they're at a loss. the cigarette between their fingers slips and bounces off their shoes.

Chuuya clicks his tongue. "he's just a cunning bastard with a plan to fuck everyone over." he flicks his own cigarette off to the side to emphasize his words.

[Name] lets his snarky remark swim into their ears, processing each sound with careful consideration. they stare silently at the floor as they take into account everything the mafia has shown them for the past two years. they're well aware Dazai is always slithering around, a heavy presence looming over everyone's shoulders to make sure everything goes according to plan. they know he's doing something, whatever it might be, and it's very important. that's why he's been gone for over a week already. from where [Name] stands, it simply seems capricious.

"i think he's a little kid," they speak up with a hint of hesitation. a knot in their throat tries to keep them from spitting words a parallel story would set them on fire for. they clear their throat, turning to find Chuuya's eyes. "doesn't he feel like a neglected toddler to you?"

immediately, Chuuya throws his head back and cackles from the core of his chest. he pats [Name]'s shoulder harshly, shaking them in a fit of pure amusement. "ha! that's your best joke so far." he pretends to wipe a tear off his eye. the moment his laughter fades away, a peeved frown pulls his brows down. "that shitty asshole's a demon that's been alive for centuries. i wouldn't waste pity on him." as if it were an unimportant discussion about ants on the ground, Chuuya shrugs his shoulders. he's done with his smoke break and he cares little about sympathy for malicious intelligence.

[Name] watches him head back into the Port Mafia building. the demonic crown Dazai wears weighs on him more and more as the years go by. centuries upon centuries of living in isolation should give a demon like him all the wisdom in the universe, and yet he's nothing but a child. even Chuuya is only a child with issues of his own. they all are. and when kids are scared, some cry, some bite back, and some simply cower in a corner while gritting their teeth.

with a sigh, [Name] crushes their struggling cigarette with the sole of their shoe. they follow after Chuuya once the fire has died.

it's strange, Dazai thinks, and it rattles him for a moment. he only has the memories of what will happen, but he's convinced he can still feel frail bones crushing under the pressure of his foot. the moment he sees [Name] in broad daylight, crouched over in an awfully familiar alleyway, he stops dead in his tracks. his fingers twitch. he almost wishes [Name] would try to hide away in the shadows. he doesn't have to even look past them to know there's a box with three puppies in it.

"what are you doing here, [Name]?"

[Name] cranes their neck back, finding Dazai's eye staring down at them with a blank gaze. "hello, Dazai-san," they greet him normally, because they don't know and they can't guess. they step to the side to let him see the three dying dogs, huddled together for warmth inside a humid box. Dazai blinks. these puppies don't just look frail, they look sick.

"what are you doing?"

[Name] turns back to the box. with one hand, they keep searching for a way to help these dying creatures; the other one offers a sense of comfort—or as much as they can—scratching their heads gently. "i found these guys abandoned here. i was thinking of getting 'em to the vet, they don't look too good." when [Name] removes their hand, one of the puppies stirs. it tries to call out in a faint cry. it barely has the strength to breathe.

"oh." Dazai hums in understanding. he doesn't like dogs. he doesn't care about what happens to these dogs. something is probably eating them from the inside out and he knows for a fact they will not survive a ride to the vet. they're on the verge of death already; [Name], this time, is too late. "yeah, that's a good idea." he doesn't care about what happens to these dogs or to [Name] themself, but he lets them do whatever they want. it is not a dare. it is not a challenge. it's simply him taking a step back.

"do you know of any vets nearby? i can't find anything on my phone."

"…i don't really like dogs so i don't know anything." he lies. he does know. he cannot step back more than this.

it's fleeting, but [Name] feels that same baseless animosity trying to drown them. "i see." they pretend it's fair. they don't pry. with a grimace, they turn again to look at Dazai. "do you think they'll make it? they might be a lost cause."

"you should try."

the longer they consider it, the more pity simmers in their chest. when they scan their eyes over the puppies one more time, they're agitated, struggling to breathe. "i'd rather not put 'em through that… i'll just let 'em pass peacefully." an orange glow surrounds their body as they use Mirror Mirage to steal the dogs' lives from them. painlessly, the three of them grow weaker until they ultimately die.

Dazai glares quietly. he watches with a hollow stare as [Name], with their eyes closed, claps their hands and says a short prayer to the lives they've taken.

"i'll find a place to bury them. excuse me, Dazai-san." picking the box up from the floor, [Name] bows their head to him. he trails his eyes after them while they disappear down the sidewalk.

Mori Ogai knew eventually Dazai would take his place. evil expects evil from others. when he finds [Name]'s hand around his throat, he chuckles. he figures this is exactly why Dazai wanted to take them from their orphanage and bring them into his arsenal. he's not given much choice and lets the children do with him as they see fit.

at age eighteen, Dazai Osamu becomes the Port Mafia's boss.

[Name] doesn't mind the changes in the mafia, especially considering they aided the new boss. there's a hefty weight of unbearable responsibility pressing down on their shoulders. they're aware Dazai isn't their problem, and neither do they feel the need to interfere. he is doing something—[Name] doesn't know what it is or why, but they hope he can accomplish it so he'll finally sit down and breathe. they know better than to meddle. but the duty of an older sibling compels them to at least check in on everyone around them.

(Chuuya isn't content. they've heard all of his complaints again and again over cigarettes and drinks. he says he doesn't blame them for helping Dazai out in taking Mori's head. they hardly believe him.)

Dazai calls them into his office. something feels off when they step inside, bowing as per usual, speaking politely like they did with Mori. he's leaning back on his chair and reading a book. the cover is worn, but they can make out the characters for war and crime. the look in his eye darkens considerably as he lets it flutter shut before dropping it in his trash bin.

he leans into his desk and towards [Name], an empty smile curling his lips. "i have a task for you, [Name]." he gathers documents scattered around, brushing off a paper airplane that falls off the edge. [Name] takes them from his hand with a nod. "i'd like some information on this orphanage."

"of course, boss."

they bow one more time to excuse themself. Dazai considers letting them go with their task, but curiosity gets the best of him. he can't keep his mouth shut. "say, [Name]," he starts. [Name] stands up straight, listening attentively. "have you ever heard about the theory of the two demons?"

[Name] blinks, brows rising. it doesn't ring a bell. "i haven't. what does it say?" Dazai knows it doesn't ring a bell.

"that to combat a great evil, you need an even greater evil." it's taken him years to understand what this theory entails. it's taken him memories that do not belong to him to wrap his head around nonsense such as this. the best experience comes first-hand. "say, for uprisings against the government, the government can suppress the people with forced disappearances, for example." he cannot pretend to laugh at this anymore.

"so it's bad against worse?"

"precisely." Dazai snaps his fingers. there's a childlike ring in his voice, like he's happy to finally hold a conversation with the [Name] he's known. "it cancels out. it reaches a point where evil is just the norm. a demon against another demon; do you get it?"

"i see. like… fighting fire with fire." they're close. "only a demon can kill a demon."

like saying long time no see to someone he's supposed to have never met. like stabbing his own leg for someone he knows doesn't have the choice to stray. like offering lies to someone who cursed him in a different story. like babbling words that are not his. "yeah, that's… that's a good analogy." like a corpse smiling back at him. (like animal blood staining his shoes.)

"where did you find this theory? it seems interesting."

Dazai glances at the trash bin only briefly. "that's not important." [Name] doesn't catch on. "i just thought you'd like to know about it."

"why's that?"

"so you don't resent me after i'm dead." he's always known they aren't anything like him.

[Name] lets an innocent chuckle slip, "i'd be surprised if you're actually mortal at all."

"now that's a very cursed thing to say, [Name]." he offers them a smile. it's the smile of a child, innocent and ignorant. it's heavy.

"my apologies, boss."

Nakajima Atsushi is a mellow boy. it doesn't take a genius to realize he wasn't as lucky as [Name] was when drawing straws in the orphanage lottery. he's been blessed with a powerful ability, but he's also been cursed to never tame it. Dazai seems to have been prepared for this inconvenience since the day he was born. [Name] considers that's probably exactly the case.

they analyze the collar Dazai has given them, before their eyes fall on Atsushi. he's mellow and he's scared. he sits quietly on the floor, hugging his knees close to his chest to make himself small, hiding his face in search for safety. [Name] crouches by him, wearing the same gentle simper they used for their youngest siblings.

"i'm sorry about this, Atsushi-kun," they speak softly, careful not to make unnecessary loud noises, "but Dazai-san said it's to keep your ability in check."

"i know. i understand. it's okay." he lifts his head up only slightly. he meets [Name]'s pitying eyes.

they frown. the theory of the two demons states that, in order to take down a great evil, one requires a greater evil; [Name] thinks this is what Dazai meant when introducing them to such a wicked theory. a sigh tumbles from their lips, "it's not okay, but it's necessary." it burns on their tongue, rotten words they should swallow.

they purse their lips and clasp the collar around Atsushi's neck. somehow, they wince harder than him.

Dazai Osamu has completed his plan.

he hits the ground, blood splattering and staining the ground a crimson red, because even in death, Dazai can't keep himself from being a nuisance. his body twitches as the last remnants of life slip away from him. it's unexpected—not that he managed to fulfill his own goals, but the way he chooses to celebrate. in the moment, [Name] thought their words were ironic. as they catch a glimpse through the corner of their eye, they think they spoke too much.

they freeze, shoulders taut. with wide eyes, they find Chuuya's glare across from them, seemingly just as perplexed. both turn towards the wall of windows; neither dare take a step closer to confirm their suspicions.

"…Chuuya-san," [Name] speaks up with a hesitant tone. Chuuya doesn't answer. "Chuuya-san, was…" their voice trails off, unsure of what to say in the face of suicide. "Chuuya-san, was that Dazai-san?" by the time they manage a coherent sentence, Chuuya is no longer by their side.

[Name] watches from up high in an empty hallway. from this height, Dazai's bleeding body is nothing more than an ant out of line. they sigh heavily, eyes closed. they clap their hands together and say a short prayer for the life that now sleeps forever in solitude.

—あごす (agosu) • 2023

#theory of the two demons #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #nakajima atsushi #mori ougai #bsd beast #bungou stray dogs beast

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nanamikentoseyebags · 7 months

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pairing: kento nanami x f!reader

content: just two grumps being grumpy together, alcohol consumption, pathetically self ship coded!!

wc: ~ 1.3k

a/n: my poor lil attempt to write something again, don't judge too hard, i just needed to feel some comfort

Whoever is in charge of the event has terrible taste in music, Kento Nanami mentally remarks, taking a small sip of the way more disgusting whiskey and placing the glass on the bar with an audible "clink". He wearily surveys the room, running his eyes over the expensive gilt-framed paintings, the elaborately inlaid furniture, and the huge elephant in the room in form of a grand black piano, that most definitely hasn't felt a human touch in at least a couple decades.

Myriads of stars are scattered across the ceiling in intricate patterns, like fluttering moths surrounding a lonely chandelier, decorated with what looks like tiny diamond droplets. It radiates a soft glow that seems to make even the faces of these people look pleasant somehow. He hates this place, or rather he has to hate it, because now it has become a nest of the most poisonous snakes - a reception for the richest, most prominent, most influential people in the city: the owners of the biggest financial companies that seem to own the whole world in their heads. Kento frowns, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly and cursing his boss for obliging him to attend it.

A quiet “Ughhhh, that’s disgusting,” snaps Nanami out of his thoughts, drawing him to turn in your direction, watching curiously as you spit out one of the appetizers and wrap it in a napkin. "This is a real culinary crime! Who the hell would think of ruining food so cruelly? Ugh, I should sue them for the moral damage this appetizer just did to me". Reaching for your glass, you took a couple sips and held it out to your boyfriend, cringing, "and serving people champagne like that is a crime too. I thought everything was top notch at these receptions," you paused, "you know I'm going to say this, but I'll say it anyways, here: I could have done it better...God, I need something to wash this disgusting taste down with."

"Of course you would, darling," Kento chuckles, "And I don't think there's anything edible here at all," he sets your glass on a tray of a passing waiter, "I'm afraid you're the only sweet thing here."

A death stare, that's what he sees, turning to you again. "Very funny," you roll your eyes playfully, nudging him lightly in the side, "I always wonder…how do they do that?" you motion your hand to the groups of people talking amongst themselves.

"Do what?" his tilts his head to the side, leaning closer to you, his arm goes around your waist, slowly stroking the curve of your hip.

"Pretending to like everything, from terrible food to engaging into conversations with people they can't stand. Sometimes I think their faces are about to crack from those strained smiles."

“Long years of practice, I think. I doubt they'd be much good at it if they didn't know how to cast fake smiles at every partner and then ruin their firms with the same grin."

"Atrocious," you give a dismissive glance to another pair of presumably millionaires fluffing up their feathers and parading like male birds in front of a couple of women.

"Sorry for bringing you here, I-" he doesn't have time to finish the sentence, feeling your arms tightly circle his torso.

"I don't mind at all, I might even enjoy standing here with you all grumpy and dissatisfied with everything and everyone. It's more fun together," you wink at him, stroking his back.

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t want anyone else to be grumpy with,” he pauses, looking at your perplexed expression, “okay…” with a sigh he continues, “in my defense I might just say that it sounded less cheesy in my head”. You giggle, watching the tips of his ears turning red. “On the other note,” Kento’s hand flies up to gently caress the apple of your cheek with his thumb, “I know I’ve said it like a thousand times today but you look absolutely divine.”

And he means it, as much as he hates to be here, he thinks you are made for this. You are made to be surrounded by this splendor he believes he fails to give you. As if you'd stepped out of one of those ornate paintings, in that ethereal silk dress of yours and hairdo, you really do look like a deity to him, walking around your chambers.

And before he even gets a chance to tell you this, a loud “Nanamiiiiii,” thunders across the whole space, the approaching steps of his boss reverberate tenfold in Kento’s head, as he reluctantly lets go off you and turns to face the horror in the flesh.

"Our most reticent Nanami has finally shown the world his gorgeous chosen one," the nearly bald, stocky man approaches you two with a broad smile, plastered on his face, exposing his porcelain teeth. His wrinkled face is adorned with a pathetically thin mustache, with gold-rimmed sunglasses perched on his nose. He smells of expensive alcohol and cheap cologne, you have time to notice a pair of huge rings on his fingers when he, without a second's hesitation, takes your hand and brings it to his lips. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Y/n, Nanami doesn't spread himself too widely about his life, but your name almost never leaves his lips."

"Y/n, this is my boss, Mr...."

"I'm just Steve to you," he blurts out in a half-drunk grin, still not letting go of your hand. Kento’s eyes roll to the back of his head, as he rubs his temple tiredly, struggling to keep his cool.

"Nice to meet you...Steve," looking absolutely unimpressed, you gently pull your hand out of his iron grip, taking your now speechless with anger boyfriend, under his arm, and smiling with feigned gentleness, "Kento has told me a lot about you, thank you for inviting us to this wonderful dinner."

“Nah, that’s the best decision I’ve ever made,” he chuckles, “you should try to convince your man to go out more often, especially with such a beauty by his side, it should be a real pleasure. He has a great future, my dear, a great future,” he wagged his finger right in front of your face, “okay, lovebirds, I have to go… I have to go, I have to cheer up a couple of losers, whose careers I will destroy tomorrow.” And he bursts in an almost inhuman laugh that seems to make everyone in the room but him uncomfortable. “But I'll see you soon," and once again taking your hand in his leaves another loud, wet kiss on your palm before retreating to another direction.

“Ugh, what an asshole”, you wipe your hand on the soft fabric of your dress, "'so, did I get to act all happy? It was quite hard since I was affected by the sight of his awful mustache.”

Hearing no reply, you raised your head to meet the two agates that had been staring back at you for a long time, gleaming adoringly. Kento's face is playing with the brightest smile you've seen this evening.

“What?” you frown, not sure where the sudden burst of amusement is coming from.

“Nothing”, he smiles wider, “just glad I'm here with you. Speaking of which, why don't we sneak out of here right now?” he holds out his hand to you.

“I thought you'd never ask”, you let out a sigh of relief, intertwining your fingers, as you quietly head for the exit. Away from the lying people and cruel games, quietly grumbling about various little things along the way. He carries a pair of your uncomfortable heels in one hand as you walk beside him in your evening dress and favorite sneakers, clinging to him tighter and thinking that the world isn't so bad when you have someone to be grumpy with.

#not proofread #as jess says we die like men #junamicore #nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader

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lookwhatitcost · 11 days

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How can you love me? Chapter 1 (part two.): Should I regret it?

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x !OFC

Warnings!: Drinking, Swearing, let me know if I need to add more!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Part 1.

Noah and Adriana both rockstar's, both caring, both don't really believe in love.

They met as children in a park in Richmond, since Noah helped Adriana with a scrape on her knee that day, they'd been inseparable. Even though they do live together and have known each other for almost 20 years they've never even had the thought of being each others other, being their partner, loving each other unconditionally, except as friends of course. Even though they were each others first everything, first friend, first kiss, first time, first home, they would never admit their love for each other because it would ruin their friendship, and especially not now that Adriana is not looking for love and, Noah is in love with his girlfriend Chelsea, right?

Will they let each other break their glass houses or will they stay eternally quiet?

May 13 2020. Noah's POV. (scene from last chapter.)

"Yeah sure but, I could try to get here before dinner so we can all eat togeth-"

"Noah." I cut him off

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and go visit your girlfriend."

"Ok"

I was driving to Chelsea's place while listening to music and thinking 'finally gonna see her, I can just picture her on her knees suc-'

Ring ring ring.

"hello?"

"Hi baby, how are you?" Chelsea said in an almost whisper tone

"Oh hi babe, um I'm good, just driving to your place."

"Okay, do you know how long you're gonna take?" She said in a worrying tone.

"Um maybe in like 5 minutes, baby?" I said wondering why she sounded so worried. "yeah?" She shortly answered. "are you okay?"

"Oh-uh, yeah I'm fine, um Noah I'm gonna have to let you go, I'm getting a call from my mom."

"yeah that's fine, well baby I can't wait to see you and I definitely can't wait for something else." I said insinuating. "Cool, bye babe." Then she hung up on me.

Weird, she would usually respond to the dirty shit I said to her, anyway.

I knocked on her front door, waiting for her to open it. I don't know what, but something felt off about her, but maybe she could just be in a bad mood. The door swung open revealing Chelsea in a two piece pink silk pajama set, with her hair in a half up half down style. She looked beautiful.

"Hi baby" she said in a soft tone. "Hi" I said leaning in to give her a kiss. "Come in noah." She said as she pulled away, not kissing me.

What the hell is going on with her?

"Noah can we talk?" She said. "Yeah okay." I said worrying about what's to come. we sat down on her couch, she grabbed a pillow putting in up to her chest.

"Noah, I have to tell you something." She said looking at me, I could see the tears forming in her eyes. "Look noah, I love you, but... We need to break up."

"What?" I said whispering.

My heart shattered in that moment, I felt the blood drain from my body, I didn't know whether to cry, ask her why she wanted to, or just leave without saying anything. I opted for the last one.

I got up from the couch and made my way to the door, I hesitated leaving and not asking her why but I decided it was best for me.

"Noah wait!" I heard Chelsea cry after me as I walked to my car.

"Noah I'm sorry, but I have to do this, for you, for me, for us."

I briefly looked at her and told her, "after 2 fucking years there is no us anymore." I got in to my car, trying to keep it all in, and drove, and drove, and drove away, until I stopped in the back of a gas station just to sit there in silence.

Maybe she was over thinking.

Maybe she just was drunk or something.

No. Chelsea can't be over thinking she always knows what she wants, and she can't be drunk, she doesn't drink often.

I decided in my mind that she did actually want to break up, and that's when I thought.

I only have two options.

Either I, break down into tears and tell the one person I can count on, which is adri about this so she can help me, or, I drown my sorrows with alcohol. After little to no thinking I decided the second one would be best.

Chelsea's POV

What the fuck did I just do?

I just broke up with noah, and I think I'll regret it for the rest of my life well that and the other thing... He was so loving and caring, and especially he was faithful towards me all the time and I had to go fuck it up by doing that.

At home...

I need tequila. I need to get my mind off of her.

I walked into the house feeling I don't know how many emotions inside of me, I knew I was probably going to get interrogated by the guys right when they saw my eyes, so I had a plan, a simple plan, but a plan, this plan was just walk in get the bottle and walk to my room and lock the door for the rest of the night. I walked into the kitchen expecting it to be empty but there were two people standing there, Adriana and Jesse. I just wanted to avoid them asking anything so I just said.

"If Chelsea calls any of you and asks for me, don't tell her anything. Got it?" I said making my way to get the alcohol. I rushed out of the kitchen and on my way I heard Jesse scream something that I couldn't hear because I was just stuck in my thoughts.

I walked into my room and slammed the door, I immediately just sat on my bed and started drinking. When I was sitting I heard the door open and close softly. Fuck, I didn't lock it.

"Noah what the fuck was that out there?" Adri said slightly suprised, slightly pissed. "Nothing, why?" I said trying to not make the emotions sound. "You want some?" I offered her the tequila.

"No, Noah what happened with Chelsea? Did you guys fight? Or was it something else?"

I decided, fuck it, I'll just tell her. "She broke up with me."

"Noah what do you mean?"

"No, I got to her place and when I said hi to her she asked me if we could talk, when we sat down she just said it, no sugarcoats, she just said, I wanna break up."

"well maybe she was just confused, I mean, you guys have been together for 2 years, that's a lot of commitment and maybe she was just nervous."

Yeah sure, and you're in love with me.

"nah, its fine she's just like any other girl who's dated me, they spend time making me fall in love just so then they can throw me away like some type of garbage."

"Noah, please don't say that, look lets do this, you stop drinking so the hangover isn't as bad in the morning, I will try and call Chelsea tonight and if she doesn't pick up I'll call her tomorrow, and you can get some rest in the meantime ok?" She took the bottle from my hands, and I was about to protest against her but I know she wouldn't stop until she got her way.

"I guess, sure."

Okay, well goodnight Noah I'll tell you if anything happens tomorrow."

Then she kissed my forehead softly, and I muttered a quite thank you, but I wasn't just saying thank you for her helping me with this, I was saying thank you for everything, for the love she's given me since childhood, for all the times she put up with me even when I was being a dick, for all the times she helped me when I wanted to cry, when I needed advice, when I wanted to kill myself, whenever I desperately needed her.

Noah's POV.

I kinda fucked up.

An hour after Adriana left I went to get more alcohol, I couldn't handle it so by 3AM I was really really fucking drunk. After that point I don't remember anything except me waking up to get water and in my dream I kissed a girl, who was this girl? I have no idea.

Okay sooooo its out!

This one was shorter just because I wanted to give you guys his POV in the story but the official second chapter will be out soon. And that one will have smut. The next chapter (2) will have more drama filled stuff, remember this is supposed to be a slow burn.

Tags: @xxkittenkissesxx @laurpartyprogram @starsomens @thisbicc

#noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #bad omens fanfiction #noahsebastian #noah sebastian x reader

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starglowwos · 8 months

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quick note before i start ranting: last night i started thinking. and then i started ranting in discord. and it got off track. and then i woke up this morning and had a similar thought. so this is just a stream of thoughts from me, really, lmao also, absolutely all of this is from memory, there's a good chance i got some stuff wrong (and i also include a lot of headcanons based off estimates and stuff i don't think would be a stretch), so yeah lmao this is kinda like a thought experiment or something

thinking,, thinking about c!martyn and his birthday

3rd life started 2 weeks after his birthday, last and double life weren't close, rats missed it, pirates has a good chance of missing it, and that's in the future anyway

only limited life included it

martyn… spends the rest of his time in a void, regardless of which route you take, datastream or eyesandears (as we don't know how they connect yet, they're mostly separate? kinda? idk its complicated)

so… what's better: having your birthday in the midst of a death game, in a world that isn't real but feels painfully so, or alone in a void?

in a dark void where you're unconscious most of the time, and when you're not, you're being taunted? or in a green void where you can't so much as sleep like you had to back in the world you were torn from, the world that you only have one actual connection with, your only glimpse of reality being of that who trapped you in this mess and doesn't care enough to get you out already?

martyn's first birthday in the datastream likely would've been limited life, if that's how that would work (again, datastream~eyesandears, complicated)

he's still got another good 7 months until his next one

will he be out of the datastream by then? will doc have finally figured it out?

…why hasn't he yet?

…that's a question for another day. (sure, maybe he's said that dozens of times before, but… now's not the time, is all)

(…besides, it seems like he cares. but…- no, question for another day. whatever a day even is. he only really knows because doc makes him journal for every one that passes, not because it really holds any meaning right now.)

would he rather spend his birthday lonely and paranoid, lonely and paranoid, or lonely and paranoid?

either

in constant fear of death, being able to see just how much time you have left until then, knowing it could skip ahead by an hour or even two at a moment's notice.

people who were supposed to be your friends (and perhaps were in another life) trying to kill you on your birthday, throwing explosives down from the clouds onto your party on the one day you maybe thought you'd be allowed to enjoy yourself.

(and yeah, maybe you were planning on blowing up everyone else, too, but when you're red, can you really be blamed for wanting to spill some blood?)

(…everyone else feels like that, don't they? you're not the only one. you're stupid for thinking you'd be an exception to their bloodlust just because it's your birthday.)

in a void where your only waking moments aren't good ones. where you're taunted and berated and ridiculed for your mistakes, where you start to believe what you're told, that you failed your one job despite being given so many chances.

the void in which you last see Them before your only anything between these games abandon you for years?- months on end, only to reappear a game later in hopes of ruining your life. and you're pretty damn scared They succeeded. (you've felt, just, bad, for so long, that you're not sure things can get worse, yet they manage to every time. you're not sure when things got this bad, but it's Their fault, you know it is.)

…you're unconscious most of the time in this void, anyway. you're not sure why it feels like such an eternity every time.

in a lime green void, stretching on virtually endlessly (heh, virtually… ah, this is what you've resorted to for entertainment, isn't it?), with access to all you could ever dream of?

sure, maybe not the impossible—that's, well, impossible—and maybe not things that haven't been created yet, maybe some things are locked behind paywalls you can't bypass, or, or need for accounts–

oh, did you mention you can't leave any trace of your existence either? there's quite a few restrictions, actually—no accounts, no anonymous comments, no privacy, no friends, no family, no food, no drink, no sleep, no- no bodily functions, no.. no concrete sense of self, no… fellow(? are you even human anymore?) human interaction…

well, besides doc, but he's… busy. too busy to help you get out of here, too busy to…

to care where you land after pushing you through a portal to an unknown world with little to no warning,

to get… worried, when you stay months in the same game world, because these- these missions are meant to be a, a quick in and out, maybe a week, usually less, not… three whole months, and…

fuck did that hurt, leaving them all, but… the sooner you complete these missions for doc—what even are these missions, anyway? why-—the faster you'll be out of the datastream and.. back to reality. back to.. home… you think.

(why do these missions have such big gaps between them?

why– how is doc presumably fighting CHEST all by himself (well, not all by himself, you are the datastream defender, after all, even if that is just a made up title to make yourself feel better, even if you're barely an asset as opposed to a liability to doc)?

what does global ramifications entail?

why hasn't doc figured out how to get you out of here yet?

why does he not spend any time with you, he's your only real human contact, and even then, it's flakey!?

why does he make you journal every day? to keep you sane? you mean, it's hardly working, but why?

if doc cares, it'd be more than just whatever this is. or–…

…you've had this conversation before. you're just out of touch with social interaction. players and npcs are nothing like real people. you're just… wrong. and doc's right, because doc knows what's going on, and you don't, save for some tiny morsels of information. right. …nevermind.)

this is where i stopped ranting for the night, and i pick it back up on a similar topic this morning ^^

i wonder if, in the datastream lore, rats and pirates are made by the same people or not

if doc would have access to that information, if he would purposefully start avoiding powcreations, or purposefully seek out their game worlds

is martyn spending months in a game world, having fun instead of doing his job, a good thing in any way, in doc's eyes? or is it solely a distraction or vulnerability?

martyn goes to all these game worlds for a reason, he needs to find loot shards so doc can deal with them, but how does doc feel about martyn staying months instead of days? of martyn having fun? growing attached? forming emotional bonds with people who aren't real?

(doc tells martyn they aren't real. martyn has no reason not to believe him on that. (in fact, martyn tells himself they aren't real, because if they were, he's not sure he'd handle that well.) even though players can be awakened, they're still ultimately under an actual human's control—doc's told martyn this. martyn is... a special case. (and if they aren't quick enough, his situation could lose its uniqueness to the enemy. which, if it wasn't clear, isn't a good thing.))

it's ultimately not healthy, martyn knows, but he's been in the datastream a little over a year at this point. the only human interaction he has is doc, who barely seems to have time for him, and CHEST agents (he thinks? they may just be AI), which are actively trying to kill him, whatever that would mean for him. he doesn't like the thought.

so, maybe he's a bit lonely—okay, maybe very lonely—so can you really blame him for wanting to indulge? i mean… even if it isn't really reality, what's stopping it from acting as one? he'll… he'll always have to leave eventually, but… he may as well enjoy himself while he has the chance, right?

so what's to stop him from making friends with oli the trash rat, or oli the pirate? (they're almost eerily similar, all things considered, but martyn guesses that's what happens when you get lazy devs. everything else seems to have so much care put into it, though... why would they put in such little effort to player characters when so much goes into everything else?)

what's to stop him flirting with half the players on the faction isles and being responsible for the nickname "kisstrels"?

what's to stop him having a genuinely good time?

leaving rats was hard. it was the first time he felt he truly belonged somewhere in how long? longer than the datastream, for sure.

he was really starting to struggle at that point with the crushing loneliness and feelings of unreality, if he's honest. rats... rats was nice. rats was probably some of the most fun he's had.

and leaving pirates has every chance to be even harder.

with these new scars appearing (which he would assume to be a design thing if it weren't for the fact that they stayed with him in the datastream itself), and these new feelings occurring without reason or rhyme, he's starting to feel uneasy about being stuck in the datastream again. (he's never not felt uneasy about it. he just… manages to push it to the back of his mind(? does he still have one of those?), sometimes.)

he's spent a lot of his time thinking—a lot about the rats, admittedly—why does scott feel so much more familiar now than he did even after he left rats? so many of the rats always felt familiar, especially jimmy and oli, but why does he miss scott all of a sudden?

weird feelings like that had been beginning to pop up the past few months, along with scars he has no explanation for—i mean, seriously, why does he have at least three scars shaped like a four-pointed star? what would even cause that? he's fairly sure there's more, as well!—and it's been making him uneasy. most of all, it's been making him lonely.

pirates came at a good time, he thinks.

maybe his introduction wasn't the best, what, with doc shoving him through a portal just for him to fall from the sky into the ocean, then immediately getting scammed by scar—

why does scar feel so familiar? why does that seem so in character for him? he hasn't been in another game world which used his assets, has he?

—just to go to this weird corrupted purple island and lose two people along the way—

why does doc always put him in the center of the story? it can get so stressful at times! i mean, rats was stressful enough even before the other rats did stuff like blow up the boiler!

—but... i mean, he made a song for pirates. that's something he'd only previously done for rats (and wow, was that process painful, can you imagine how hard it is to make music while being a rat and staying secretive about your mission? speaking of secrets, he got pretty lucky with the whole pirate thing, for once he can be truthful about some part of why he's here, even if he has to stay vague), and even then, that wasn't really a serious song. this one's a full on song, water made sheet music and everything!

so, evidently, it's not that bad. it's quite the opposite, actually. martyn thinks he's going to have a pretty good time here, as a pirate.

(he's not sure why the pirate aesthetic, and the oceanic/aquatic aesthetic as a whole, actually, feels so familiar. like he's done this sort of thing recently...?

and... scott. scott feels related to that, for some reason. and scott's a heron, martyn fucking hates the herons (he'd never admit it, maybe except to the rats in his boots, but they're actually not that bad. it's more like a sibling rivalry, than anything).

…does this have something to do with martyn randomly missing rat scott the past few months? …does he miss rat scott, or does he miss scott? …these aren't real people, martyn, get it together, it's fine. you're fine. nothing to worry about.)

#itlw #itlwlore #inthelittlewood #eyesandears #martyn rats smp #martyn pirates smp #pirates smp martyn #rats smp martyn #c:/sgos/gold #c:/sgos/talking #cw unreality #cw paranoia

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youhavetosmile · 2 months

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You can do one where Foggy's family adopts Matt and Matt asks his family for advice because Karen steals his heart and Matt's family is very hilarious because it's a comedy

Here's a little something for ya :) Hope you enjoy teenage Matt, Foggy, and Theo!

"Hey guys? Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Shoot."

"How--how do get a girl to like you?"

Theo, sitting on the foot of Foggy's bed, leaned back against the wall with a chuckle. "Why do you need to know?"

"I just do," Matt replied, his face turning red.

"Nah, you're not gonna get off that easy," Foggy teased. "What's her name?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Ah, so there is a girl."

"Ooh, Matty's got a girlfriend!" Theo sang. Soon, Foggy had joined in the ditty.

"Shut up!" Matt yelled, throwing his pillow off his bed at them. "I"m being serious!"

Suddenly, their mother came through the door. "What is going on in here?"

"Matty's got a girlfriend! Matty's got a girlfriend!"

Anna looked from one side of the room, where Foggy and Theo were still singing jubilantly, to the other side, where Matt had hidden his face in his knees. "Oh, stop, you two!" The two boys stopped singing, but were still snickering behind their hands. "I said stop! Or would you like me to tell Matt about your first crushes?" That shut them both up. "That's what I thought."

Anna sat down on the end of Matt's bed. "Come downstairs with me, Matty. We can talk down there." Silently, Matt stood up, put on his glasses, unfolded his cane, and stood up. With a stern suggestion that the other two boys to brush their teeth and get to bed, she led Matt downstairs.

Anna sat Matt down at the kitchen table. "First, might I suggest not asking fifteen-year-old boys for dating advice?"

"Noted," said Matt with a sheepish half-smile.

"Now," she said, sitting down next to him and laying a hand on his arm, "tell me about this girl."

Matt's smile grew. "Her name is Karen. Karen Page. We're friends, but--"

"But you want to be more."

"Yeah. But I don't know how. I like being friends with her. She's really nice to everyone, except if you're mean to someone else. Then you'd better watch out. I like being around her, and I don't want to ruin our friendship by coming on too strong or whatever. But--I really like her, Mom."

"She sounds great."

"She is. She really is. And that's why it's so important that I don't screw this up."

"What makes you think you'll screw it up?"

"'Cause I'm--not good at this. Usually, I can talk to girls just fine, but Karen's different. I don't know what to do!"

"Oh, honey," said Anna, "just be you. She obviously likes you already, or you wouldn't be friends."

"But what if she doesn't like me like that?"

"What's not to like?"

"Mom, I can't see."

"And Karen already knows that. And she knows that you do just fine, anyway." Matt was silent. "Honey, just be you. You're smart, and kind, and loving, and you stand up for what you believe in."

"So, what, I should just--tell her?"

"As your aunt once told your father before he asked me out: 'Grow a pair.'" Matt laughed, and Anna ruffled his hair. "In all seriousness, Matt, just be honest with her. And if your brothers say anything else to you, you tell me. I've got tons of ammunition."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Karen is lucky to have you."

"No," said Matt, shaking his head. "I'm the lucky one."

#daredevil #karedevil #matt x karen #matt and karen #matt murdock #karedevil fanfic #karedevil au #foggy nelson #theo nelson #anna nelson #asks

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stargazer-sims · 3 months

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The Rumour Mill

Caroline: Nora! We're a week and a half into the school year, and this is the first we've seen of you. Where have you been?

Camellia: For that matter, where were you all summer? I mean, not that me and Forest and Caroline particularly wanted to hang out with you every single day or whatever, but... you know. We were still concerned.

Nora: My parents made me get a job, so I was working at a summer camp in Granite Falls.

Caroline: No, you weren't. Camellia and I were at Llama Scout camp in August, and I know for a fact that the scout camp is the only organized summer camp up there.

Nora: Pfft... Llama Scouts. That's so lame.

Caroline: It is not!

Camellia: Yeah. We're going to be assistant scout leaders for the Little Llamas after we turn eighteen. Right, Caroline?

Caroline: Right.

Nora: Anyway, what I did this summer is none of your business.

Camellia: Fine, but whatever it really was, it obviously couldn't have been something as physically active as summer camp.

Nora: What are you talking about?

Camellia: Well, not to state the obvious or anything, but your belly is kinda falling out the top of those shorts. It’s not a good look.

Caroline: You're probably going to get dress coded for that, actually.

Nora: Why do you care?

Camellia: We're not total jerks. We don't want you to get detention. Maybe you can borrow a hoodie from one of the boys. It'll cover up your bump and, uh... also that stain on your top.

Nora: It's not a bump.

Camellia: What else would you call it? I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're pregnant, 'cause that's kinda what it looks like.

Nora: So what if that’s how it looks? My body, my business.

Caroline: Nora, you're not really pregnant are you? Is it from the boy I overheard Victor and Aunt Ellie talking about? You know that's totally going to ruin your future.

Camellia: Hang on... Nora, you met a boy? When did this happen? I guess that'd make the pregnancy make sense, wouldn't it?

Nora: Shut up! I'm not pregnant! And even if I was, why would the two of you need to know? Plus, you don't give a crap about my future, Caroline. You don't even like me. And anyway, he's not a boy. He's a man, which is something you wouldn't know anything about. Your stupid little boyfriend probably hasn't even worked up the nerve to kiss you yet.

Caroline: Forest isn't stupid. Don't talk about him like that.

Camellia: You know what I think? Methinks the lady does protest too much.

Caroline: Like... Shakespeare?

Camellia: Exactly. Like, you wouldn't deny it that hard if it wasn't true.

Caroline: Nora, if you're pregnant, you need to tell your parents. Aunt Ellie and Uncle Leo would—

Nora: They wouldn't do anything. They don't give a crap about me either. They're too busy making a big deal of my brother. You know, in between rounds of trying to self-destruct their marriage.

Caroline: Parents have problems sometimes. That doesn't mean they don't love you or care about you.

Nora: Oh, like you'd know. What's the biggest problem your parents have? When dumbass Uncle Victor can't remember where he put his shoes again, or when Uncle Yuri is late for his manicure?

Caroline: That's mean, and it's not true.

Nora: Your parents are so fairytale, it’s disgusting. I hate how perfect your life is.

Caroline: Hate all you want, but you have no idea what goes on at our house. We have problems you don’t know anything about, but even when stuff is really bad, I know Victor and Yuri still love me, and they'd still support me even if I made a really bad choice like getting pregnant before I graduate high school.

Nora: For the last time, I'm not pregnant! Now, if you guys are done harassing me, I have to get to class.

Camellia: Would your parents really support you if you got pregnant? 'Cause my dads would lose it if that happened to me. Like, I slept with Hayden for the first time this summer, and afterwards we both freaked out because it was kinda spontaneous and we didn't use protection.

Caroline: I didn't say Victor and Yuri wouldn't lose it. They totally would, but they'd still support me. We always support each other, and I don't think that'd change. But more important point here, you and Hayden... did it? I didn't know you were even allowed to date. If Forest isn't, how come you are?

Camellia: That's the thing. We're not allowed to date. Can you keep a secret?

Caroline: Of course. You know I keep all your secrets.

Camellia: Well, I was babysitting at a neighbour's house, and I texted Hayden to come over. We did it after I put the baby in bed.

Caroline: Was it... good?

Camellia: Honestly? Not really. Right at the end if felt amazing, but when he was, you know… inside me, it hurt a little at first and it was... I don't know. Really awkward. And the scare afterwards was totally not worth it.

Caroline: So, do you think Forest and I shouldn't do it?

Camellia: I don't know. I guess you should talk it over with Forest and like, plan it out. Use protection, and maybe don't do it on the sofa in somebody else's living room. At least we had the sense to put down a couple of blankets, but I would rather not have had to do laundry at my babysitting job, and... yeah.

Caroline: What are you and Hayden going to do now?

Camellia: We're gonna try to hold off until we graduate, or at least until I turn eighteen in January. And we're definitely going to be safe. Hayden and I both want to go to university, and I'm not about to risk messing up his chances, not to mention my own.

Caroline: If Forest and I do it, we're absolutely going to use protection. I don't know if I want to go to university yet, but I don't really want to be a mom either. Not now, when I’m still in school. That'd be the worst thing ever.

Camellia: Personally, I think the worst thing ever would be getting pregnant and then realizing you have to handle everything on your own. At least if it happened to one of us, our families would take care of us even if they weren't thrilled about the situation. Like, do you think Nora's parents really don't care?

Caroline: They care, and Nora is lying when she says Aunt Ellie wouldn't support her.

Camellia: Do you think she's really pregnant?

Caroline: I don't know.

Camellia: I guess time will tell, yeah? And speaking of time, we should probably get to class.

Caroline: Yeah.

Camellia: Wow, we’re somehow still early.

Caroline: Or the teacher is late.

Camellia: Okay, since we’ve got a minute, tell me what you know about this boy Nora met.

Caroline: I don’t know a lot. I think she met him right at the end of last school year. All I know is, I don't think Aunt Ellie was too pleased about it. I heard her complaining to Victor that she can't control Nora any more.

Camellia: Our parents don't control us. Not since we were really little kids who didn't know anything.

Caroline: Neither do mine. Yuri and Victor always say part of growing up is learning to make your own choices. They don't have to control me. They ask me to do stuff, and I usually make the choice to do what they ask. I think, if somebody's parents have to control them, it means they don't know how to think for themselves and make good choices.

Camellia: Or their parents don't trust them to think and make good choices.

Caroline: I can't imagine my parents not trusting me. That'd be horrible.

Camellia: Yeah. I'm glad my parents trust me.

Caroline: It's much better that way.

Camellia: So, here's something I want to know. If you found out about Nora meeting a guy back in the spring or whatever, how come you didn't tell me and Forest? You didn't tell Forest, did you?

Caroline: I didn't tell anybody, mostly because that one conversation was the first and last I heard about him. I didn't even get his name or how old he is or anything.

Camellia: Obviously he's older than us.

Caroline: Why do you think that?

Camellia: 'Cause she said he's a man. I think we're all realistic enough not to call guys our age men. Like, I don't call Hayden a man and I don't think he expects me to, but I think an older guy would be insulted if you called him a boy.

Caroline: Good logic. I wonder how much older he is?

Camellia: Let's keep our ears and eyes open, and maybe we'll find out.

Caroline: Definitely.

#ts4 #sims 4 #willow creek #willow creek high school #Caroline Okamoto-Nelson #Camellia Abbottsford #Leonora DeLuca #tw pregnancy mention #tw sex mention #stargazersims

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playgrl0 · 2 years

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reunited / megumi

!! not proof read because i'm sick, sorry !!

"finally! there you are." you say and roll your eyes at gojo who walked towards you. "i've been waiting here for almost thirty minutes." gojo throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close against his side. "i'm so happy to see you, it's been a while. megumi will be so happy to have you back in one piece." he winks. "shut up." you push him away from you. "can we leave?" "of course!" he grabs your bag and hand and pulls you behind him over to his car. "ah, so much has happened since you left. i bet megumi has told you about the new first years?" he opens the door for you to get in. "yeah! yuuji itadori and nobara kugisaki, right?" gojo closes the door behind you, gets into the drivers seat next to you and starts driving. "yep! i'm pretty sure you're gonna love them. nobara will be so happy to have another girl in the team." he grins and you chuckle. "i can't wait to meet them and see everyone else again." you smile to yourself. "you didn't tell anyone you were coming, right?" he asks. "of course not." you scoff. "wouldn't want to ruin your surprise." he smirks at you and you smile yo yourself, looking out the window.

the first and second years are out on the field, taking a break from training when gojo walks up to them. "attention everybody! i have a surprise." maki rolls her eyes. "if you're here to give us more souvenirs, keep them." gojo pouts and mumbles a quiet 'whatever' "anyway, i need everyone to stay right here, i'll be back in five seconds." he smirks and disappears into thin air. like he said, five seconds later he appears in front of the group again, this time with you. he has you slung over his shoulder. "gojo, let me down! right now!" you hit his back a few times and he finally lets you down. you brush down your clothes and look up to see everyone looking at you with wide eyes. "hi guys!" panda runs over to you to pick you up into his arms, toge jumping on top of you two to join the hug. "y/n!! you're back!" panda let's you and toge down again, toge pulling you into another side hug. "so good to have you back l/n!" maki smiles at you. before you can respond to her a boy with pink hair jumps in front of you and holds out his hand for you to shake. "yuuji itadori!! nice to meet you!" you don't think you've ever seen anyone smile that hard. he's adorable. you shake his hand "i'm y/n l/n! nice to finally meet you, i've heard a lot about you." you turn to nobara. "and you must be nobara kugisaki. i've also heard a lot about you." you slightly bow to her. "you know me? i feel flattered. we're gonna be the bestest of friends" she pulls you and maki into side hugs. "why are we meeting you just now y/n?" yuji asks and gojo answers for you as he throws his heavy arm over your shoulder. "our beloved y/n here went to europe for a mission. she was there for about three months." nobara perks up at that "europe? how was it? where exactly were you?" she excitedly asks. "okay that's enough." megumi's annoyed voice rings through everyone's ears and you all turn around to him. he gently grabs your arm and pulls you beside him. "c'mon megumi! we all missed her." gojo playfully pouts. "don't care." he pulls you closer against his side. "c'mon, megumi hasn't seen his girlfriend in three months. we should leave them alone." maki butts in. before anyone can react or do anything else, nobara and yuji yell "GIRLFRIEND?!" at the same time. "man, you never tell us anything." yuji pouts."y/n is your girlfriend? you have a girlfriend?" nobara points at the both of you, not believing it. megumi's getting annoyed now, you can tell so you wrap your arm around his waist and gently squeeze him. "hard to believe, huh? i know." gojo dramatically sighs and wraps a arm around nobara's shoulder. "that's enough." megumi grabs your hand and pulls you away with him. you turn around to the others one last time and giggle. "see you all later!"

you and megumi reach his dorm room. he opens the door, pulls you inside, closes the door behind you and pulls you by your arm into a tight hug. one arm wrapped around your waist, the other one gently sitting on the back of your neck, yours wrapped around his torso. finally, you have him back. after three long, exhausting months you're finally back in his arms. that mission went on for way longer than anyone expected and it was a tough one. it brought you to your limits mentally and physically, many times and you wanted nothing more than just to be with megumi and have him comfort you. but that's all over now. you're right here, back in his arms, where you belong. and, megumi feels the exact same. he missed you more and more every single day that went by. he missed holding you in his arms, waking up next to you, going to sleep next to you. just the simple things. having you by his side. you're finally back and he couldn't be happier. "why didn't you tell me you were coming back?" he quietly mumbles into your hair. you pull away from him a little to look at him. "gojo wanted it to be a surprise, especially for you." you grin. he rolls his eyes and mutters a quiet "idiot" before he gently takes your face into his hands. "i missed you so much." he whispers and pulls you into a kiss. a very much needed kiss. "i missed you too." you mumble in between kisses. megumi pulls away a little to get a good look at your face. "you're so beautiful." he whispers and presses a kiss to your forehead. when he pulls away to look at you again, he sees a few small tears rolling down your cheeks. he gently wipes them away with his thumb. "hey now, why are you crying?" "i'm sorry, i just, i missed you so much." you sniffle but your smile never leaving your lips. he smiles as well, wiping the rest of your tears with the sleeve of his shirt. "it's okay. we're back together now." you pull him into another kiss. this time, the kiss is needier, hungrier. megumi walks you both over to his bed, pushes you down and lays on top of you. his lips never leaving yours. you're running your fingers through his hair, slightly pulling on it, making him groan out quietly against your mouth. you pull away to catch your breath and he moves down to your neck and kisses you there. "i missed this." he pecks your lips again a few times before he gets off of you and lays beside you. megumi pulls you close against his side and you tangle your legs with his. "me too." you happily sigh out. "i can't wait to tell you about everything but, i need to take a nap first." you let out a yawn which makes megumi chuckle. "i could use one too. training was pretty hard today." he rubs your arm up and down, pressing some kisses into your hair. "i love you." you smile up at him, pull yourself on top of him and pull into a proper kiss. "i love you too." you respond between the kiss and his hands hold your hips in place, the kiss getting once again needier. he brushes his tongue along your bottom lip and slightly bites down on it, before he puts his tongue inside your mouth and intertwines it with yours. heavy breaths, slight grunts and whimpers are ringing through the usual silent room. you're getting lost in the feeling of having him so close to you again. feeling his lips, his hands all over you and finally feeling the love you've missed for so long. megumi's lips move down your jaw, to your neck where he starts kissing you there, earning a small whimper from you and making him grin against your soft skin. "i missed how responsive you are." he mumbles and places a few kisses to your collarbone. you pull his head away from you and hold yourself up with your arms next to his head, brushing a few strands of his hair off his forehead. "you're beautiful, megs." you mutter while admiring him. his messy dark hair, his soft skin, cheeks slightly flushed just like his lips who're also plump from all the kissing you just did. "shut up." he mumbles and pulls you down on him, hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

you and megumi didn't notice that you both fell asleep. the door to megumi's dorm opens, gojo, itadori and nobara standing there, staring at the both of you. "so that's why they didn't hear us knocking." gojo grins and crosses his arms over his chest. "they're really cute." yuji whispers. "for how long have they been dating?" nobara asks gojo. "about three years now, i think. they grew up together and let me tell you, i always knew they were gonna end up together." he proudly smirks. a soft smile appears on nobara's lips at his answer, looking back to both of you, and letting out a dreamy sigh. "he has the biggest soft spot for her," gojo continues. "she's pretty much the only person he likes. besides me of course." he winks. " but, they're good for each other." gojo continues, his voice a little softer now. "something has always missed in megumi's life until y/n entered it. she completed him." he ends his little speech, eyes never leaving your intertwined, comfortable looking bodies. gojo pats nobara's and yuji's heads, "we should leave them alone now." nobara and yuji turn around and leave and so does gojo but not before taking a quick picture of you two, because you look so cute and peaceful together and also, to blackmail megumi later. with one last smile, he closes the door behind him and leaves not knowing, that megumi heard everything.

he can't help but smile into your hair. gojo was right, you are the piece that fully completes him. he drapes the blanket over you both, presses a kiss to your forehead and closes his eyes again.

tags: @kendraken @obitohno @oikawascutie @softbajis @peach-m1lk

<3 @ playgrl0

#playgrl0writes #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fluff #jjk fluff

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imprettytired · 10 months

Text

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 4:

Mammon's not an addict, or at least that's what he keeps telling himself, although he's almost positive that he wasn't like this before.

The past two weeks have been a mess. He tries his best to avoid his brothers, though it seems like they're trying their best to avoid him as well. His mind has been all over the place but once a day it jumps back to what his new friend told him.

-----

"It's about the pills you've been taking."

"Okay?" Mammon smiles though he is a bit confused.

"Look your brothers can't know about them okay? Not like you would tell them but you would be in some serious trouble if the prince or one of your brother's finds out about it."

"They won't. Trust me."

"I trust that you won't say anything but I don't trust your brothers not finding out."

"Okay."

"Also the first round of pills was free but your gonna have to start buying them from now on."

"Oh that's fine."

His friend began to smile.

"Alright then."

----

Why would he tell his brothers? He finally found something that made him happy again, even if it's for a short while. Why would he ruin it?

Mammon decided to go to school today. Only because he has nothing else to do. Ever since the argument with his brothers his attendance has been spotty.

He's only shown up twice and both times he went onto the roof.

He got up and went to the bathroom only to remember that he took his last two pills yesterday morning.

He sighs as he leaves his room. He could already tell that today was going to be terrible.

Mammon's eating has been almost as spotty as his attendance though that's because he just hasn't been hungry, but today he realizes just how hungry he is.

He went to the dining room.

Whoever set up the table only put six plates down

"Oh sorry Mammon" Asmodeous said "I didn't think you would show up. Let me-"

"It's fine. I wasn't really hungry anyways."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep"

Mammon heads out.

----

Mammon's reminded just how much he hated school as soon as he walked in. He thinks about just going onto the roof as he looks around. A flyer hanging on the wall catches his eye.

It was about a drug that's been terrorizing the devildom. It gave a brief description of some signs to look out for and a picture of the drug in it's many forms.

"So a new drug is causing demons to overdose?"

He laughed though he didn't know why he was laughing. It wasn't funny to him. In fact he was terrified.

He began to leave but just then someone spoke to him.

"Hey Mammon where have you been? You've missed all of the recent meetings."

It was Diavolo. Arguably one of the last people he wants to see.

"Oh yeah I haven't been feeling well."

"Yeah that's what Lucifer told me but your other brothers said you guys got into some sort of disagreement?"

"Yep. They said I stole something but I didn't and now none of them are talking to me. They wouldn't even let me eat with them."

To him that was the truth and it seems that to Diavolo that was also the truth.

"Did you eat anything?"

"Yeah."

"Your lying."

"I know. I'm just not hungry."

"You're still lying."

"I'm just really upset right now and the last thing I want to do is eat." Mammon snapped.

He was sweating and shaking. He rests his head behind him, covering the flyer as his head pounding so hard that he thinks that he'll either pass out or throw up. Probably both and Diavolo could tell.

"Maybe you should go home." He says more as a statement than anything else.

"That won't help."

"Then what will?"

Mammon almost blurt out about the pills but stopped himself. He felt like an idiot for almost thinking about saying it.

"That's because you are an idiot." Mammon started looking around rapidly. He has no clue who just said that.

"Mammon?" Diavolo said. He looks and sounds more concerned.

"It's just. I um-" He says something but doesn't remember what. Then he begins to space out.

When he finally snaps back into it. Diavolo was still there but now with Lucifer and his other brothers.

"I'm gonna just go home."

"Wait Mammon what was that." Diavolo said now sounding extremely concerned.

"What was what?"

"What you were saying?"

He has no clue what he told him.

"Oh nothing I'm just tired." It was a lie but Mammon left before Diavolo could ask more questions.

In that moment everyone was so caught up with Mammon that no one saw the flyer.

----

Why isn't he answering?

Mammon's in the living room doing a variation of walking around and sitting on the couch while desperately trying to get a response from his new friend.

He was so absorbed that he didn't even hear his brothers coming in.

"Hey Mammon?" He heard one of them say.

His eyes shifted towards them.

"I found my-" Leviathan began but Mammon stopped him.

"If you're gonna say that you found your stupid crap in your room shut the fuck up right now. Everyone must have found their missing shit that's why your saying something."

He has no idea why he was angry. His brother was trying to apologize and usually he would take the chance to rub it in all of their faces.

His eyes shifted back to his phone. His reflection staring back at him.

"I fucking hate you."

The room went quiet. He's totally forgotten that his brothers are in the room with him.

"But you already know that, don't you?"

He got no response which only made him angrier

"Everyday I have to deal with you for no reason. And I, like everyone else, have wanted you dead for years yet here you are still living."

He finally got a response though he knew it was from his own head and not the Mammon he was looking at

"You know you can fix that right."

"MAMMON"

He heard someone yell. He snapped his head in that direction and remembered that his siblings where there.

His family looked mortified. Which made Mammon start laughing.

"Umm you?" At that moment he's forgotten Leviathan's name. In fact he's forgotten why Levi was apologizing to him to begin with.

"Its fine just ummm make sure you clean your room I'm not mad at ya'."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah sorry I guess I'm just sick. I haven't really been feeling well the past few days."

He looked at his brothers hoping that it was enough to convince them. Though he thinks that at most they might think he's drunk due to his slurred speech.

Actually there's no way they could tell. He's the exact same as before.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Maybe Satan was trying to be concerned but Mammon didn't like the accusation in his voice.

"I haven't slept all fucking week. I'm just tired."

"But I thought you said you were sick?"

Mammon didn't feel like talking anymore.

"Lord Diavolo said that you didn't eat today." Lucifer said.

Mammon hates that Lucifer only now cares that Lord Diavolo pointed it out.

"I'll live."

He got up and went to his room.

----

While in his room Mammon finally got a response from his friend.

"Hey dude sorry I was busy. You can buy some tomorrow."

Mammon stared at the response. Just then he got a knock on his door.

"What ya' want."

"You didn't come down stairs for dinner so I brought you your food." It was Beelzebub.

"Just leave it there I'll get it in a second." He honestly didn't feel like getting up.

"Okay" there was a pause. "Mammon?"

"Hmm"

"I love you."

"Thanks."

He listens as Beelzebub walks away. He couldn't help but wonder why he would say that.

It was random, but for some reason it means a lot to him.

He began to cry

He didn't want this anymore

He hated this. He hated being high

But he didn't know what else to do.

"I'll see ya then :)"

Then he laid there and cried.

At least he'll be happier tomorrow.

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spicybylerpolls · 2 days

Note

yeah, that underage doubtful anon about minors filming spicy scenes... that just seems like another kind of byler doubt to me, except rather than being about byler getting together at all, THIS flavour of byler doubt is byler sex doubt! Hahahahaha

we dont need that at all!! byler sex is speculative and somewhat far-fetched, and even though I believe it has serious potential to show up in the show, its still the wacky cousin of the byler community who showed up with some beers and a boombox. it's so fun at spicy byler tumblr, and if we start bringing classic Byler Doubt TM in, we're just going to ruin stuff! cos sex isnt guaranteed here anyway, so why doubt it? we've only just got through the gauntlet of the underage issue, please let's just have fun now for a bit lol

also im going to add my own tangential poll to this post: for me, one of the biggest 'evidences' of spicy byler times incoming is that noah and finn (noah in particular) react in a certain kind of blushy/secretive way during press/social media that does not merely speak to me of their characters getting a simple romantic ending, or just a kiss. i can completely understand why many people don't take anything outside of the show itself as evidence, and i wish i didnt, but i just can't help it. cos shows are fiction and made to manipulate you as a viewer, whereas real people, even actors, have tells. im not claiming to know finn and noah's personal tells, but for me, as two humans, their body language does not lie!

noah especially gives off the vibes that he will have to portray something extremely giggle-worthy (and thus spicy) next season. that tiktok at penn where he almost gave spoilers? 'there's some crazy stuff, some iconic scenes in there' and his smile was GUILTY AF. yeah, crazy stuff could be a showdown with vecna or a lore reveal. but would that make him BLUSH???? and it could be *just* a masturbation fantasy scene (would love that for the narrative too), but then we also now seeing finn blushing furiously and flickering his eyes around during press like he's in an interrogation room whenever s5 is mentioned. it just screams 'two friends and coworkers who know they have to get it on on-screen' to me.

so has anyone else got finn and noah's behaviour as good evidence for spicy byler incoming?

yes all the way! though i try not to think of that and focus on byler themselves/the narrative clues

yeppers peppers and i love to see it! add it to the pile of proofs hehe!

no, everything is meaningless but the show you FOOL! (affectionate)

no, i notice their blushing but i dont think it relates to the show. maybe theyre in lurrrvvvveeeee

finn and noah are blushing a lot cos it's hot in whatever room theyre in and means nothing lmao

one day we will all die so none of it matters or makes sense and who is byler?

Please note that the purpose of this blog is not to be creepy or to make anyone uncomfortable. That's why I created the #spicy byler tag (I will tag all polls with this). If you don't want to see this blog or anything related to it on your feed, please block that tag. Not everyone is comfortable with this sorta stuff, and that's okay.

#spicy byler #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #finn wolfhard #noah schnapp #spicy byler meta #foah

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modelbus · 2 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers with Tommy

CC!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Enemies to Lovers scenarios with Tommy, but you decide if you two ever become lovers or not

>Arguing all the Time

Neither of you are quite sure when your little enemies thing began, but it was still going strong. That meant that literally anytime you were in a VC together, it was just arguing.

Today he was doing a calmer stream, mining while chilling in an empty call. Obviously you existed to ruin his day, so you hopped in and started causing some chaos.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He had immediately groaned, giving his camera an annoyed look.

"Wow, I didn't realize you missed me so much!" You responded quickly. His retort is quick too, probably because you do this every day. "You're delusional."

The bantering continues for hours, tone changing from annoyance to more of a teasing one before settling into the familiar anger. It wasn't serious anger, but it was definitely more aggressive than teasing or annoyance.

"Oh my God- Just fuck off already!" He exclaims, throwing his hands into the air wildly. You laugh, shaking your head although he can't see it. "No thanks."

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you." "You wish. I have better standards though."

Even if there's someone else in the call, it still manages to become an argument. You've been banned from playing Among Us together for that exact reason.

"Wha- I'm telling you guys, it wasn't me!" Tommy exclaims, making you smirk. "No, no, he did it! I saw it!" "What the fuck?! I saw you hop into the vent!" The worst part about it all was that you both knew damn well neither of you were the imposters.

>Constantly talking about the other

It’s funny. For how much you “dislike” each other, you sure talk about each other A LOT.

Your friends literally know everything about him. He was active in discord? They know. He argued with you over Coke off-stream? They know.

And it’s the exact same for him. Wilbur actually thinks the whole enemy thing is hilarious, but he’s sick and tired of hearing Tommy talk about you.

”Wil, you won’t fucking believe this.” Tommy fumes, staring at Wilbur through his computer. Wilbur sighs, crossing his arms. “If it’s about-" “WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE ABOUT?!”

“I will literally pay you if you don’t talk about your stupid little rivalry today.” Wilbur begs. “It’s not a stupid little rivalry!”

Phil, as patient as he is, just mutes you guys if you ever start talking about each other with him.

”Oh, Phil, that reminds me, Tommy-“ you start, and he immediately reaches forward and mutes you. “Chat, trust me, this is better for all of us.”

You ruined your chances with a guy once because of how much you talked about Tommy which was embarrassing.

Tommy also turned down someone because of you, which he didn’t even mean to do. You just occupy his mind way too much.

”Are you doing anything tonight? Maybe we could catch a movie?” The person asks, and Tommy opens his mouth to accept. “Sorry, I’m doing something tonight.”

He didn’t have a stream planned, so he isn’t quite sure why he said that. Or at least he wasn’t until you streamed that night and he realized he turned the person down because he knew you’d be streaming.

>Secretly Loving to Spend Time Together

The first time Tommy asked you to be in his vlog, you very nearly said no. But after careful consideration, you realized how much fun it would be to fuck with him in real life.

From there he just kept inviting you to the vlogs and you kept coming, both using the excuse of good content.

Really though, he just liked spending time with you in person. Something about being able to see his jests land made it more fun than anything else.

On the other hand, you just kept telling yourself that you were only in it for the content. No fun involved. In fact, you hated him. Mhm. Definitely. Or at least you tried telling yourself that until a friend tried to get you to cancel on him.

"Come on, you'll have way more fun with me anyways. Aren't you always going on about how you hate him?" They laugh. "Well, yeah, but this was scheduled ages in advance." "So? Just tell him you're out. That'll be a good one, really fuck up his plans."

You were surprised to realize you hated the idea of canceling, and for more reasons than one. Firstly, it was a dick move. Even if you did hate him (which you weren't so sure about anymore...) it would ruin the entire vlog and throw off his entire schedule. Secondly, you wanted to film with him.

"No. I can't. Maybe another time."

Your friend just stared at you before a smile grew on their face. "And you still say you hate him."

Tommy goes through the same thing with Wilbur too.

"I can't wait for tomorrow's vlog!" He exclaimed, grinning wildly. "Thought you'd be dreading it because your mortal enemy is there." Wilbur responds with obvious sarcasm. "If anything, I'm more excited! It's gonna be epic!"

Wilbur pauses, looking at Tommy. "Are sure you guys are still enemies?"

>The Realization

Tommy realizes first, because Wilbur knew all along how it would end. Really though, Tommy kind of knows the second he sees you in person because he just can't keep his eyes off you that entire vlog.

"Tommy, come on. Still with the enemy thing?" Wilbur asks. "I thought-" "What? You thought what? Of course we're enemies! We hate each other!" Tommy laughs, but it's entirely fake. Because he isn't quite sure he really does hate you.

"Do you?" Wilbur presses, putting voice to his thoughts. "Or are you just scared of things changing?" Tommy sputters, trying and failing to protest. After a second he just falls silent, thinking about it. "I don't know." He finally says. "Well I do." Wilbur announces. "You do?" "Yeah! You two are so obviously helplessly in love, please for the love of God just fucking kiss!"

"...you think so?"

You don't have Wilbur to help you, so it takes a bit longer, but you end up figuring it out yourself when you catch yourself watching a stream. Not joining, or sending a rude chat message, just laughing at his jokes as a viewer.

From then on, you can't help but notice arguments taking a flirtier turn, which is only egged on by Wilbur.

That doesn't mean you two immediately talk about it though, it's literally the opposite. It's five months before either of you realize you're both hopelessly in love and just pretending to hate each other.

Now that's an awkward conversation...

#tommyinnit mcyt #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit #mcyt imagine #dsmp #mcyt #tomyinnit imagine #dsmp tommy #enemies to lovers

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