#but it might be better to try and use my phone and then get the pictures printed later idk

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader's vacation continues and lines start to blur. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: happy new year to all of you, and sorry for the long wait! I was completely flashed by the love you showed for part 1 (THANK YOU!!!), and wanted to live up to your expectations. I’ll try to write part 3 as quickly as possible! Sorry if there's any typos, I edited this while severely hungover

The afternoon at the beach was relaxing and lighthearted after you agreed with Joel and stopped studying so much, and you find that apart from having a body that makes you clench your thighs together, he’s interesting to talk to. He doesn’t give you the same bullshit about university and acting responsibly, but rather accepts that there are things you dislike about your degree. He doesn’t offer advice on how to learn to enjoy those things, he just nods when you tell him you’ve learnt to deal with them. He treats you like an adult, someone who makes their own informed choices – something your life has been sorely lacking.

You head back to the rooms in comfortable silence, and you enjoy the way Joel’s arm almost grazes yours. When you think about the flutter in your stomach for too long it’s ridiculous, but it’s so easy to leave behind the morals and expectations of home when all you’re facing right now is an all-inclusive dinner and as many cocktails as you want. You aren’t planning on getting drunk if Joel isn’t, but you want to have fun tonight. You haven’t been on a real vacation in ages.

 You take another shower once you’re in your room, wash away the sunscreen and sea salt, until your hair is all soft again and you smell like shampoo. The hotel restaurant isn’t super fancy, but you feel like putting in a little effort, so you pick out a black dress you like, and wear your sandals again. You wonder if you’ll get cold – the days are burning hot, but at night there’s a cool breeze that might make you regret your choice of clothes. Fuck it, you think, you haven’t had an occasion to dress up in ages, and getting Joel all flustered again sure seems like reason enough. You grab your purse, phone and keycard, and head to the door.

Joel opens his door at the same time you do, and you swallow when you see he’s changed outfits, too. His hair is slightly damp and all curly, he’s wearing black jeans and a simple black t-shirt with an unbuttoned, flowy linen shirt over it. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal his forearms. It’s stylish. You didn’t expect Joel Miller to look stylish.

"Wow," you say with a smile. "You clean up nice."

Joel just huffs, but his eyes ghost over your dress for a second too long. He doesn’t answer.

When you get to the restaurant, Joel pulls out your chair for you, which earns him a blinding smile. Stylish and a gentleman, who would have thought? Back home he always seemed like a grumpy lumberjack to you, and although you do find him excruciatingly attractive in his flannels, you’re intrigued to find out what else you didn’t know about him.

"Is it really all-inclusive?", you ask, gazing at the menu and not quite believing you can order anything you’d like and not pay for it. 

"Sure. You want a cocktail?"

"If you’ll have one with me?"

Joel holds your gaze, but shakes his head.

"I think I prefer whiskey over that sweet stuff," he says, and you make a face.

"Fine, whiskey it is, then," you say, and Joel frowns.

"You don’t have to drink what I’m drinkin’. Have a cocktail."

This time you’re the one to shake your head.

"It’s no fun, having cocktails on your own. But I haven’t had whiskey in ages, maybe I like it better now."

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches.

"Ages, huh? How long have you been allowed to drink again?"

You smile, but don’t dignify his question with an answer, and after a moment Joel chuckles and looks back at the menu.

"Fine, I’ll have a Gin Fizz," he says, looking up again. "You?"

He wants to order a cocktail, just so that you can enjoy having one, too. Your stomach flutters.

"Joel, you don’t have t-"

"I know I don’t. I’m having a Gin Fizz."

There’s a finality to his tone, but his voice is friendly. You give him a reluctant smile, one that isn’t ironic or half-joking. He smiles back, and leans back in his chair, eyes still on yours. You study the menu again, this time having a closer look at the cocktails.

"Sex on the beach," you say seriously, and Joel snorts.

"Clever."

***

You do end up drinking a sex on the beach, and Joel actually enjoys his gin fizz. The food is delicious, Joel lets you try a piece of his steak and you offer him a bite of your fish, but he declines with a disgusted look on his face that makes you grin. No seafood for Joel Miller, then.

Joel orders you another cocktail when the waiter clears your plates, and you smile to yourself. He’s being courteous.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Miller?", you ask, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I think you’re managin’ that without my help."

He’s right, of course – your long day of traveling makes the buzz in your head more prominent, and although you’re nowhere near drunk, your tongue is a little looser than usually, and you find it much easier to hold Joel’s eye-contact.

"I’m glad I came here," you say all of a sudden, the thought fleeting, but true. "I needed a break."

Joel’s smile is honest, when he answers.

"I’m glad you came, too. It’d be boring, bein’ here on my own."

"Right," you say, "who would get you to drink cocktails? You’d be stuck drinking disgusting whiskey and wallowing in your loneliness."

Joel smiles, shaking his head slightly, and takes a sip of his Gin.

"You wanna head down to the beach?", you ask when your glasses are empty and you feel a little woozy from the second cocktail. Joel looks surprised.

"I love the sea at night," you say a little dreamily, voice trailing off.

"Sure. Let’s go," Joel just answers.

The air outside is cool, just like you anticipated, and you shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep the goosebumps at bay. Joel notices, and immediately shrugs out of his linen shirt, handing it to you. You stare at him.

"Take it," he insists, and you do, the fabric soft in your hands. You slip it on, the sleeves coming down to your fingertips, the collar smelling of Joel’s cologne. You wonder why it took you two cocktails to notice how good he smells. When you’re done rolling up the sleeves, you look up and find Joel watching you quietly. Your eyes meet – he looks away, and starts walking again.

You’re pleasantly tipsy, walking to the beach at night, wearing Joel Miller’s clothes and brushing his arm with yours every once in a while. It feels a little surreal.

"Aren’t you cold now?", you ask after a couple of minutes of quiet.

"No," Joel answers, his voice a little rougher than before, "’sides, you wear it better anyway."

You flush, and when you don’t answer, he looks at you.

"Jesus, sorry," he mumbles. "I didn’t…it slipped out. Just meant you look pretty, is all."

Your stomach swirls pleasantly, and you want Joel to put his arm around your shoulder, or kiss you, or take that shirt off again. You clear your throat.

"Thanks," you answer quietly, toying with the hem of the shirt. "I think you wore it well, too, though. Suits you."

Joel doesn’t answer, but when you glance at him, you notice the ghost of a smile on his face, half-hidden by his patchy beard.

You walk the rest of the way in contemplative silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. You’re always amazed to see the sea at night. The darkness somehow elevates its vastness, water and sky bleeding into each other at the near invisible horizon. It’s easy to forget about your exams here, with the whole expanse of the planet spread out before you, the relentlessly calm sound of the waves, and Joel’s scent in your nose. You sit down on an abandoned deck chair and watch Joel walk up to the water, pick up a seashell, and drop it into the water again. He seems content to be here, you think. Relaxed. You don’t know him well, but his body language seems more at ease than it did back home. Perhaps you’re not the only one who needed a break.

You get up again, and walk over to Joel, who smiles when he sees you coming.

"You were right," he says, "it’s different in the dark."

You know he means the sea, the beach, the lack of people around, the sand that burned your feet only hours ago now having a cooling effect. Still, his words leave room for interpretation and you don’t miss the way his gaze moves over your form in his shirt.

"Thanks for the cocktails," you say quietly, "and the shirt."

Joel looks over at you, but you don’t have the guts to look at him. You can’t quite be sure what the moonlight and scenery will make you do, not when he’s never looked more handsome, and you’re more than tipsy.

"You’re welcome," he says honestly. "I know you’re doin’ this for your Dad more than anything, but I hope you’re still havin’ fun."

He’s self-conscious, or something close to it, wondering how he could make this trip more enjoyable for you – so he orders cocktails he doesn’t like and lets you wear his clothes.

"I am having fun," you reassure him. "I’m at the beach at night wearing a guy’s shirt who got me all the cocktails I wanted, instead of studying at my desk for the millionth night in a row."

Joel chuckles.

"My Dad should break his leg more often," you sigh, digging the heel of your foot into the sand. Joel doesn’t answer.

When you walk back to the hotel, you feel the ghost of his hand on your lower back, not touching, but lingering, as if he instinctively wants to stir you in the right direction, or keep you from stumbling. It makes that flutter in your stomach reappear.

You pass reception to get to the elevators, and the same woman is still there, smiling when he recognizes you.

"You two enjoying the sea?", she asks.

"Very much, thank you," you answer, "we had cocktails and walked to the beach."

The lady looks pleased at how happy you seem and smiles at Joel.

"I’m glad to hear it! Well, you two enjoy your Daddy-daughter trip," she says, before answering the telephone that starts ringing just as you’re about to say good-night.

Joel’s brows are furrowed when you look at him, which makes you suppress a grin. The lady assuming he’s your father is clearly bothering him, and you get the feeling it might not entirely be about his age.

When you’ve made it up to your rooms, you turn to Joel to find him already watching you. He looks different here, in the harsh light of the corridor, dark shadows falling over his features, his form somehow looking broader.

"Breakfast at nine?", he asks you, voice quiet so as not to disturb any other guests in their rooms.

"Yeah," you say, and before you can change your mind, you kiss his cheek. His expression is unreadable, when you pull away.

"Goodnight," you say with a tired smile, before teasingly adding "Daddy."

Joel holds your eye contact, and doesn’t flush this time.

"Careful," he says gently, voice low and dark. You swallow.

Before you can forget, you shrug off his shirt, but Joel doesn’t move to take it from your outstretched hand. After a beat, his eyes flicker over your face.

"Keep it," he says curtly, "I like it on ya."

And then he’s gone, the door to his room shutting with a soft thud. You shake your head slightly, and press the soft linen fabric against your nose, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat. You ache just at the thought of it having touched his skin, and him now wanting to see you in it, but it would feel like a violation if you relieved that ache now, even if Joel wasn’t there, so you ignore the dull throbbing between your legs best as you can and go to bed with Joel’s shirt right next to your bed.

***

The next morning you feel a little nervous about breakfast – something shifted between you and Joel after your good-bye in the hallway. He seemed so sure of himself when he told you he liked you in his shirt, so unwavering, and you’re a nervous wreck just thinking about saying good morning to him.

Instead of putting on the white sundress you wore yesterday, you slip into a bikini, a pair of comfortable shorts, and Joel’s linen shirt, half unbuttoned so that your necklace peeks out. This time you leave the sleeves un-rolled, liking how big it feels on you, a constant reminder of Joel’s size.

You wash your face and brush your teeth, but don’t shower since you’re going to have to do that in the evening anyway. Although you’re mostly excited to see Joel again, you also can’t wait to have your morning coffee and something to eat – you hope the breakfast buffet will be as good as dinner was.

You wait for Joel in the hallway, but when he doesn’t come out of his room, you knock on his door.

"One second," his voice comes from inside, and you wait leaning against the wall just like he did the day before. When he opens the door, you can’t suppress a smile – his hair is charmingly tousled from his sleep, he clearly didn’t know what to do with it without taking a shower first.

"Nice hair," you say, the corner of your mouth twitching. Joel doesn’t answer, with his brows slightly furrowed he keeps staring at you. Anxiety floods your veins, and you wonder if it was the best idea to dress the way you did, if Joel might think of it as strange or creepy or pathetic.

"You’re wearing my shirt," he says, voice quiet and still rough from sleep. It’s not a question, just a statement, no judgement behind it. You swallow, watching his brown eyes trail over your arms, torso, your shorts.

"Yeah," you answer timidly, fighting the urge to cross your arms. "You said you liked it on me."

Joel’s eyes snap up to yours, and with all the courage you can muster up, you hold his gaze for several long seconds.

"I did."

Again, just a statement. One that doesn’t require an answer, but you feel like shrinking under Joel’s gaze, so you offer him an out out of the situation.

"I’ll take it off, if you want me to," you mutter, and quickly add "I’ll put on something else."

Joel watches you quietly, and finally runs a hand through his messy hair.

"No need, kid," he says with a defeated sounding exhale. "’M glad ya like it."

***

Breakfast is a welcome distraction from whatever happened in the hallway – you drink too much coffee, and try all of the delicious food offered: bacon and eggs, colorful fruit you have never seen before, yoghurt and pancakes. Joel sticks to coffee and toast, though he does steal one of the peaces of fruit from your plate.

"I’ll get one more cup," you say when you have drained the last of your coffee, and Joel chuckles.

"Might as well do a line," he says and you snort, but stay seated – he’s right, you should watch your caffeine intake. He watches you, and after a second raises an eyebrow.

"I didn’t mean anything by it. You drink as much coffee as you want."

His voice is apologetic and soft.

"No, I’ll do as you say," you answer, "or I’ll die of heart failure."

Something flashes over his face at those words, but you can’t pinpoint it. Still, your stomach flutters, when Joel doesn’t break the eye-contact.

After breakfast the two of you get your towels and the rest of your beach-belongings from your rooms, and Joel changes into his trunks again. You walk past reception quietly, the lady from the day before isn’t there, and Joel’s arm brushes against yours casually. Suddenly you wish you weren’t wearing his shirt, just to feel his skin against yours. It’s a little pathetic.

Joel gets you two deckchairs – the beach is still relatively empty – and you put on sunscreen. When you’re done with your limbs and stomach, you offer Joel the bottle.

"Do my back, please?"

"Sure," he mutters, taking the bottle from you, and gently stroking your hair out of the way. He’s quiet, holding you steady by the shoulder when you instinctively squirm away from the initial cold of the liquid on your skin, his hands calloused but gentle. From time to time, his fingers slip under the shoulder straps of your bikini, and you feel heat pool between your legs when he starts covering your lower back in sunscreen. His hand is dangerously close to the waistband of your swimsuit.

"All done," he says, closing the bottle. You raise an eyebrow.

"Don’t need sunscreen," he explains, "I don’t burn easy."

"You’ll get skin cancer," you argue. "Everybody needs sunscreen."

He huffs, but hands you the bottle and turns around to sit down on the deckchair. You watch his beautiful back, the way the skin ripples over his muscles, how broad and solid it seems. You squirt some of the sunscreen onto your hand and apply it to Joel’s shoulders, rubbing gently. He relaxes under your touch, the tension leaving his muscles, and you move your hands more deliberately, focusing on his shoulders, until Joel’s head falls forward slightly, giving into the sensation.

"Good?", you ask, a little shy.

Joel hums, and you wonder if his eyes are closed, if he’s enjoying your touch so much he can’t form a full sentence. You dig the heels of your palms into his muscles, the sunscreen making the slide easy. His skin his littered in freckles and birthmarks, marked by years of working under the sun.

"You always apply sunscreen like that?", Joel asks suddenly, and you flush.

"Most people aren’t this tense," you quip back, fingers gliding over Joel’s neck. "Actually, nobody’s ever been this tense, I think."

He shakes his head slightly, but lets you carry on, working your way down his back, the tan line of his trunks visible and oh so tempting. You imagine pulling them down and try to refrain from clenching your thighs together.

When you’re done, Joel’s muscles feel a little looser, more relaxed, and he turns around to look at you.

"Thanks," he says quietly, and you nod. Now that he can see you, look you directly in the eye, it feels almost absurdly bold to have touched him like that. Still, things have started to unravel a little. Lines have blurred.

Although you don’t know where you get the courage from, you hold his gaze, put one hand on his shoulder, and squeeze.

"Any time, Joel," you answer, and watch him swallow. Then, his own hand comes up to yours, and you half think he’s going to remove yours, but he just loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist, eyes not leaving yours.

"That’s a dangerous game you’re playin’, kid," he says quietly, but doesn’t let go of you. You hope he never does.

"Do you…want me to stop?", you ask him, because you will if this is making him uncomfortable, if you read him wrong. He’s silent for a second.

"No," he says so quietly it’s almost inaudible. His thumb starts moving over your wrist, right over the pulse point, and it makes you weak in the knees. You didn’t know a touch as small as that one could be so erotic, but with Joel it seems, everything is. You fight to not let a whimper escape your mouth, and close your eyes for just a second.

"God," Joel mutters, more to himself than to you, "look at you."

Your eyes snap open when you feel him move, hand still locked around your wrist securely, and suddenly he’s towering over you. You gaze up at him, his eyes bright under the blazing sun, his hair still tousled, his beard patchy and flecked with grey. He’s all man, in a way you didn’t know you found desirable before him, but there is undeniable proof of your want leaking into your swimsuit, sticky and hot between your thighs.

He watches you, intense eyes moving over your face, your eyes, your mouth, your hands, your body in your nicest swimsuit, your throat as you swallow. His other hand comes up to stroke the hair away from your neck, and goosebumps erupt on your skin. Joel almost chuckles, but it’s more the ghost of a breath. You flush.

"It’s fucking stupid to go through with this," Joel says seriously, like he wants to inform you of it – as if you don’t know.

"Yes," you breathe, because he’s completely right.

"Your Dad would kill me, and rightly so," he adds.

"Oh, fuck my Dad," you answer, trying to reach out to touch Joel, but your wrist is still tightly locked in his grasp. You tug a little, but he doesn’t budge.

"You doin’ this to get back at him?"

You detect something in his voice you don’t like – uncertainty.

"No, Joel," you breathe, "God, no. Have you looked into a mirror recently?"

That makes him smile, and you wonder if he gets compliments a lot, but by the way his cheeks gain color, you don’t think he does. Stupid, stupid world, stupid people who came before you. He should be told every second of the day.

"It’s still stupid,“ he says, but his eyes are more intense than before now. You’re on holiday, away from all judgement. You can do whatever you want to do to each other.

"Thought I was the smart one in my family," you tease, reminding him of his words on the plane. You want him to lean down and finally kiss you, or throw you down on the deckchair and fuck you right there, your face pressed into his linen shirt. His thumb keeps moving over your wrist, relentlessly building tension.

"Take me to your room," you whisper, eyes wide, and anticipation pooling deep in your belly. Joel curses.

"You have any idea of the things I wanna do to you?"

His voice is low, dangerous, and you’d be at least a little afraid if this one anyone else. But it’s Joel, who lets you hate your degree without judgement, drinks cocktails he doesn’t like just so you can enjoy yourself, and through his permission allows you to stop studying, lets you enjoy this trip.

"Do them," you breathe, "I’ll let you do anything."

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid," he answers, and finally lets go of your wrist, one hand coming to rest on your waist, tugging you towards him, the other gently cradling your face. His breath ghosts over your mouth, and then he brushes your lips with his in a needy, slow kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you open up for him willingly. He tugs your hips against him, making you whimper and feel his bulge dig into your stomach.

The only thing keeping you from pulling him out of his swimming trunks right then is the fact that there are people around, and you’re pushing it already with the way his hands grasp at your skin and his tongue licks in your mouth. Any further and you could be arrested for public indecency.

"Please," you ask him between kisses, "Please, Joel, just take me to your room."

His teeth dig into your lower lip, and you fight a moan.

"Ask me again," he says, voice a little wrecked, and the need you feel for him deep in your stomach burns white hot. He wants you to beg.

"Please," you say, like he isn’t stripping you of your dignity instead of your clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed, not when Joel groans at the sound.

"Alright, kid. I’ve got you.“

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[fawnnbmbi]

How to romanticize a low restriction diet・º•❦

Since I’ll be trying the “one apple a day” diet for the next month I’d figured I share some tips that personally keep me motivated during my diet journey 🪽

✶Nutrition

I know this one’s basic but to keep your body functioning and healthy you have to at least drink vegetable broth and electrolytes as well as take your vitamins daily. Please don’t underestimate the importance of nurturing your body otherwise functioning properly throughout the day will just become even harder

✶Find comfort drinks

If there is anything that keeps me going during low restrictions it’s my little fun drinks. Find some low cal receipts for Matcha , Hot chocolate , Tea’s etc. stack up on Diet Coke , maybe the vanilla and cherry ones’s all that good stuff. Just because you’re starving it doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in flavor

✶Remember it won’t go on forever

It’s often hard for us to see ahead of the present moment, time can go so slowly and you might feel like that hunger you feel will last a lifetime. You need to remind yourself over and over again that you’ll only feel this way for a few months, you’ll be fine again.

✶Reward yourself

Find something to reward yourself with once you hit your goal. A lot of people reward themselves by going shopping or others by getting wellness treatments but find something you can work towards. It makes it so much easier to keep motivation

✶Interests

Find something to completely lose yourself in. I just bought 7 new books, that way I’ll have something productive to spend time on. Other options could also be drawing or doing anything creative/calming that takes lots of time off your day and keeps your mind from constantly fixating on food

✶Keep yourself busy

Similar to my previous point make sure to do something other than scrolling through your phone. What it is that you like to do doesn’t matter , it doesn’t have to be super meaningful or thought out. But fill your day and not your stomach

✶Self care

Make sure to pamper yourself, you deserve to be taken care of. Do your skincare routine, meditate, paint your nails, take a bath, clean your room or decorate it, do your makeup. Do whatever makes you feel loved and comfortable, just because you want to lose weight doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel loved

✶Visualize

Picture yourself as your ugw , imagine how it would feel to be that thin , try to manifest it into reality, and remember that euphoric feeling you have while imaging yourself as that version. It’s possible to make it become a reality

✶Updates

Try to take pictures of yourself weekly to keep up with your progress. If you are uncomfortable with that maybe try and write down what physical changes you can see each week. We often focus on the number on the scale but actually seeing how your body changes can help you acknowledge your progress

✶Be gentle

You don’t deserve to suffer , you don’t have to torture yourself. Yes, you deserve to be skinny , you deserve to be that version you desire so deeply. There is no point in being mean to yourself. Discipline doesn’t mean to beat yourself up over every little mistake. It means to try and do better next time. Being terrible to yourself won’t speed up the process, it will only make it more painful

That's all for now Angels! If you want me to do more stuff like this let me know and I wish everyone good luck!!! I believe in you Doll 🩷

[channiesunshinx]

𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒹 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

Recently I have gotten a problem with falling asleep. I have tried many methods but it didn't work. I ended up going to the doctor seeking medical help, he said that i am probably stressed out but still give me sleeping pills to improve my sleeping condition. That night, i was having trouble falling asleep again, i took the sleeping pills that the doctor prescribed me while playing songs in the background. I was slowly drifting off to sleep and somehow I was in this room and there was a guy standing in front of me, I walked towards his direction and patted him on his back.

"Hello? Who are you and do you know where we are?"

The guy turns around in confusion and I recognise him immediately. Bang Chan from Stray Kids

"Oh hey! I am Chan! Or you can call me Chris!" Chan smiles brightly "I have no idea where we are too... i think i fell asleep after taking some sleeping pills and then i somehow appear here too"

"My name is Y/N and i also took some sleeping pills my doctor prescribed me and somehow ended up in this place"

"You have insomnia too?" Chan asked politely

"Yea... the doctor said I was too stressed out..." I chuckle weakly

"Ah~ I am guessing that you still haven't finished your studies?"

"I am currently in my first year of university... it's not as stressful as college but i guess i didn't rest properly during college years so it causes problems afterwards..."

"Oh... i umm-" Chan looks like he was trying to stay something but was debating should he say it or not. so i interrupted him

"You are an idol right? Bang Chan from Stray Kids."

He chuckles weakly "Yea... I guessed I was so famous that some girl I met in my dream knew me too..."

"Don't worry! I am not those crazy saesangs that are trying to bother you! We are not even in the same country!" I quickly shake my head defensively, trying to prove innocence.

"Ah~ I see. You don't mind if I ask you more about yourself?"

"It's just a dream and it wouldn't hurt talking in a dream right? It's not like he will stalk me" i thought

"Of course not! what do you want to know since i know a bit about you already..."

"Where do you live?"

"I live in Australia. Are you still in Korea right now?"

We talked for hours and hours until one of us woke up, it's probably me because I was still talking to Chan when suddenly a ray of sunlight peek through the curtain, waking me up. I blink repeatedly for several times, trying to adjust to the surroundings and the lighting.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains was warm on my face, pulling me back to reality. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. The dream still lingered vividly in my mind, almost as if it weren't a dream at all. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, the clock reading 6:43 a.m. Too early, yet I felt wide awake.

I couldn't shake the feeling that my conversation with Chan had been… real. It didn't have the usual fuzzy edges of a dream. Every word, every expression, even the warmth in his voice had felt genuine.

“Just a coincidence," I muttered to myself, brushing off the lingering unease. “Dreams are weird like that.”

Still, curiosity gnawed at me. I opened Spotify and played some Stray Kids songs while getting ready for the day. Hearing his voice brought back flashes of the dream—the room, his smile, the way he said my name like he’d known me for years.

The day dragged on. University classes felt longer than usual, and every time I caught a moment to myself, my thoughts drifted back to the dream. By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I debated skipping dinner altogether but decided against it. Eating might help me sleep better tonight.

That evening, I hesitated before taking the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed. I stared at the little white tablet in my palm, the events of last night replaying in my head. Shaking my head at myself for overthinking, I swallowed the pill with a sip of water and climbed into bed. I played soft music in the background again, hoping it would help me drift off faster.

This time, the dream came almost instantly.

I was back in the same room. It looked exactly as I remembered. And standing there, just as before, was Bang Chan.

“Y/N?” he said, his eyes widening when he saw me. “You're here again?”

“Wait… you remember me?” My voice came out shaky, disbelief flooding my system.

“Of course I do,” he said, a look of concern crossing his face. “I thought it was just a one-time thing, but here we are again. I don't know what's going on, but…” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “This doesn't feel like a normal dream, does it?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Dreams aren't supposed to be this clear. Or… consistent.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I even tried to convince myself I imagined you last night, but now… I'm starting to think this place is real. Or at least some kind of shared dream.”

“Shared dream?” I repeated, my mind racing. “But how? Why would we…?”

“I don't know,” he admitted, his voice soft. “But maybe we’re here for a reason.” We stared at each other, the weight of his words settling between us. A reason. What could possibly connect me, an exhausted first-year university student, and him, an idol on the other side of the world?

“Have you ever experienced something like this before?” I asked.

Chan shook his head. “No, never. But I'll admit… I've been struggling to sleep lately too. The schedules, the pressure, it gets overwhelming sometimes.” He paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe the universe decided we both needed someone to talk to.”

I chuckled nervously. “Well, the universe has a weird sense of humor. Of all people, it paired me with a K-pop idol?”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Guess you’re stuck with me for now.” We sat down—or at least, we mimicked sitting on the nonexistent floor—and started talking again. This time, it felt even more natural, like catching up with an old friend. He shared stories about the struggles of being a leader, the sacrifices he’d made for his career, and the moments that made it all worth it. I told him about my family, my dreams of becoming a dancer, and the crippling fear of failing to live up to everyone's expectations.

Time passed differently here. Hours could've gone by, or maybe just minutes—it was impossible to tell. But eventually, Chan leaned back and sighed.

“I don't want to wake up,” he admitted. “This is… nice. Peaceful.”

“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “But we'll have to wake up eventually.” He looked at me, something unreadable in his expression. “Promise me something?”

“What?”

“If this is real—if we ever figure out what's happening—promise me we’ll meet in real life.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You'd want that?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “You're easy to talk to. And… I feel like we're meant to cross paths. Don't you?”

I hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Before I could say anything else, the familiar pull of waking up began. The edges of the dream blurred, and Chan's voice became distant.

“Until next time,” he called out, his voice echoing as the dream dissolved.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing. The sunlight poured through my window, the same as yesterday. But this time, I wasn't confused or disoriented.

This time, I smiled.

There will be a next time. I was sure of it.

Every night, I would take sleeping pills and go back to the same room, talking to chan every time, it felt so real but at the same time i knew it was a dream. Somehow, Chan slowly cured my insomnia, I stopped having the need to take sleeping pills in order to sleep. Until one night, i stopped going to the same room, i stopped seeing chan in my dreams. It was disappointing and hurting to know I couldn't talk to him anymore, even in another dimension. But when i was scrolling through chan's instagram posts, i saw his latest post was a picture of him in the office with the caption- "Dreams" and the usual stay hashtag, i quickly commented under the post saying "Lucid dreams?"

The notification chimed almost immediately after I posted the comment: 3,245 other users also commented. My heart sank. Of course, with millions of fans commenting on every post, my little comment—“Lucid dreams?”—would be swallowed up in the sea of STAYs.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. What if… what if he saw it? What if he somehow recognized me, even through a simple question? The thought was absurd, but I clung to it. I refreshed the post again and again, hoping for some sign—a like, a reply, anything. Hours passed, and nothing happened. I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed. It was silly to expect anything. It had been weeks since the dreams stopped. Maybe it was time to let go. But letting go wasn't as easy as I thought. Every night, I lay in bed, hoping to see him again, to return to that strange, serene room where time stood still, and the world outside didn’t matter. Every morning, I woke up to disappointment.

Until one evening, something strange happened.

It was a typical, uneventful day. Classes, assignments, dinner—everything blurred together in a monotonous haze. I didn’t even feel particularly tired when I climbed into bed that night. No sleeping pills, no music. Just me and the quiet hum of the world outside my window.

As my eyelids grew heavy, I felt it—that familiar pull, like being gently tugged into a dream.

My heart raced. Was it happening again?

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the room.

The sight hit me like a wave of nostalgia. The walls, the faint glow of light from nowhere, the soft hum of silence—it was exactly as I remembered.

And then I saw him.

“Chan!” I called out, my voice trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief.

He turned around, his face lighting up as soon as he saw me. “Y/N!”

I ran to him, barely resisting the urge to throw my arms around him. “You're here,” I said breathlessly.

“I thought I'd never see you again.”

He smiled, a bit sadly. “I thought the same. It's been… strange, hasn't it?”

“Strange doesn't even begin to cover it,” I admitted, laughing weakly. “Why did it stop? Why now?”

Chan hesitated, looking down at his hands. “I don't know. But I think…” He looked up, his gaze locking with mine. “I think I needed to figure some things out. And maybe… you did too.”

I frowned. “Figure out what?”

“That sometimes, even in a dream, we can find what we need to move forward.” He paused, his expression softening. “I know it hurts when the dreams stop, but I think it was the universe telling us to keep going on our own for a bit. To prove we could.”

His words sank in slowly, each one hitting me with an ache I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

“I missed you,” I admitted quietly.

“I missed you too,” he said, his voice low. “Every single night.”

We sat down, just like we always did, and talked for what felt like hours. He told me about the new songs he was working on, how he'd been channeling his thoughts and emotions into his music. I shared how I'd finally started finding joy in my dance classes again, even teaching a few younger students.

It felt like no time had passed at all, and yet, everything was different. As the dream began to fade, Chan reached out, taking my hand in his. “Before you go, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I saw your comment,” he said, his smile soft but knowing.

My heart stopped. “You… you did?”

He nodded. “I didn't reply because… I didn't know if it was really you. But I felt it. I knew it was. And I think… Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe we're supposed to meet in the real world.” I could barely breathe. “How?”

“Keep dancing,” he said, his voice steady. “Keep following your dreams. And I'll keep making music. If we're meant to meet, it'll happen.”

The dream dissolved before I could say another word.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm, the faint traces of his voice still lingering in my ears. This time, I didn't feel the crushing sadness of his absence.

Instead, I felt hope.

Weeks turned into months, and life went on. I threw myself into my studies and dancing, finding comfort in the rhythm of my routines. But I never stopped thinking about Chan, about his words, about the possibility that our paths might cross again.

And then, one day, it happened.

I had just finished performing at a small dance showcase in Sydney. It was nothing big—just a local event—but I was proud of myself for putting my heart into it. As I was packing up my things, a commotion near the entrance caught my attention.

When I turned around, my heart nearly stopped.

There he was. Bang Chan, standing in the doorway, wearing a casual hoodie and cap, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the world around us fading into nothing.

Then he smiled, the same warm, genuine smile I’d seen so many times in my dreams.

“Told you we'd meet,” he said softly, his voice carrying across the room.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

[weinq]

English Affair

synopsis: in which jeong yunho signs an NDA

genre: idol au! idol yunho x afab reader! fluff, suggestive

word count: 1.7k

author's note: this was supposed to be more comedic and more suggestive...but I wasn't sure how to approach it like that...

I hope you enjoy :))

~innie

· · ─────── · ─────── · ·

it was another night in a new city. jeong yunho loved the stage, he truly felt alive underneath the glow of the lights and the roar of his fans. being an idol wasn’t an easy path, the cut throat industry was filled with obstacles before one could even set foot in it- but it was during moments like this that made it all worthwhile. from his position on the stage, he could hear the voices of the fans calling out to him, they swayed their lights sticks to the rhythm of the beat while he and his best friends put out a performance of them. 

“atinys!” mingi’s voice called out, and the audience cheered in response. mingi was up to his usual shenanigans; today he had their fans barking. mingi being the ring leader lead the braking while the atiny’s enthusiastically joined in.

yunho chuckled and jumped down the stage to interact with the fans near the barricade. he went toward the right, there was a figure in the crowd that caught his eye earlier. yunho wanted a better look at the atinty. “hello, hello” he said, as he walked alongside the crowd of screaming trying to grab his attention. he tried to give them as much of his time as possible, taking pictures with few fans along the way. 

while mingi has the crowd barking, y/n noticed that yunho was doing rounds near her area of the barricade. her heart raced in joy upon being able to see her idol up close. y/n considered herself more of a causal listener in comparison to the die hard atinty’s standing besides her. but y/n has deep respect and admiration for the group, and seeing one of the members up close made her nervous. 

“hello, sweetheart.” yunho says, as he approached the group of atiny’s next to her. “yunho!” she exclaimed in excitement, and waved to the boy in front of her. he gave her a sneaky smile and took the phone from her hand and started recording himself while y/n laid frozen. as an idol, he was a perfectionist, he mastered the art of being discreet. he used the fans as an excuse to get a better interaction with the girl.the fans burst in cheers of excitement and disappointment, several of them congratulated her while y/n tried to wrap her head around what was happening. yunho knew there wasn’t much he could do with a locked phone, so he simply recorded a 5 second view of himself and handed the phone back to the girl giving him just enough time to properly see her. 

she’s even prettier up close, yunho thought. 

y/n’s heartbeat raced, as yunho's soft hands brushed past hers while he handed her phone back. “see you later, pretty girl.” he smiled before he rushed out. she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, the voices of the atiny’s in the crowd were just as a back track as she tried to get a grip of herself. 

“thank you, london!!!” the group said, while taking their bows and saying their goodbyes to their fans. the lights then turned off, and the boys went backstage to cool down before their send off. yunho hoped that you would be there. 

“what’s on your mind?” mingi asked as he threw on more comfortable clothes. “there's a girl.” he sighed. “i might never see her again, but i have my hopes up.” mingi nods in understanding, as idols their career were their partners. although their agency didn't have a dating ban in place for them, it was still difficult to date. they didn’t have the luxury of going out and meeting people. 

“you might just have to pass her this.” he winks pointing to the envelope by the dressing mirror. he chuckles in response, “i might just have to.”

y/n waited at the send off area with the rest of the fans, her heart racing with excitement; she wondered if fate would favor her a little longer and grant her a second more with yunho. she secretly prayed for it. 

sooner than later, the crowd erupted in cheers as the group walked out. standing near the end of the line, she waited eagerly, her anticipation growing with each step they took. y/n caught a glimpse of yunho, as he interacted with the fans. he had changed out of his concert costume into more comfortable clothing. he was wearing his glasses as well, which she found cute.

“hello, gorgeous!” he greeted her, and she smiled in response. “i loved you out there!” 

“thank you, your support means a lot to us.” he said, once again taking the phone out of her hands. “you like doing that, huh?” she questioned with a giggle. “maybe, i just like you.” he said earning him a blushing girl next to him. she cast her eyes away, “smile, gorgeous.” he said, capturing a picture of them on her phone. “i gotta go now.” he says. y/n heart quenches in sadness that her once in a lifetime moment came to an end, but she nods in response. “bye, yunho!” she says. their hands brush against each other once more as yunho hand’s her phone back, but more before he slips a paper along with it. 

for a second she wonders if she imagined it, but the paper feels rough under her palms. he throws her a final wink-so she’s sure that it’s real. but y/n couldn’t help but doubt herself, the venue was filled with many gorgeous fans so it wouldn’t be, right? it could be something else, and not what she hoped for. his number…she watches as their figures retreat and the rest of the fans head home as well. 

she leaves the venue, clutching the paper tightly in her hands. y/n’s  mind was a whirlwind of doubt, she was convinced she must be imagining things. but she doesn’t make it three blocks before curiosity overwhelms her. with trembling fingers, she unfolds the paper and begins to read, her heart pounding louder with each word.

“hey, beautiful.

i hope you have some time for me tonight. call me 00**** **** **. 

-j.y”

y/n felt dizzy, this couldn't be real. it must be a dream she would soon wake up from, she probably fainted in the venue, hit her head and ended up in the hospital. 

she dialed the number with trembling hands, her heartbeat raced with each ring. 

“you think she will call?” mingi asks. they were in their van a few blocks away from the venue waiting in case the girl would call. yunho shrugs, “i can only hope.” yunho sincerely hoped she would. it hasn’t even been 5 minutes since they drove away, and fans would probably take a half an hour or more to get out, even though yunho knew that he couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

soon enough, the phone rings. yunho, rushes out of the car nervously wanting privacy. 

“hello?” y/n says shakily. yunho couldn't help but smile, “i thought you wouldn’t call, princess.” he says. “i thought i was dreaming.” the girl replies to which he chuckles. “where are you now?” 

“just a few blocks away, i had to…know if i was dreaming or not.”

“well, this is real.”

after a quick conversation regarding her whereabouts, yunho leaves to find the girl. 

y/n fidgeted with the miffy keychain on her bag nervously as she waited for yunho. she got off the phone with jeong yunho a few seconds ago. she knew what it meant, but she was still nervous. anybody would jump at the chance of spending the night with their idol, she would too but it felt more like a dream than anything to y/n. 

"hello again," jeong yunho said, making his way toward her. "hi, yunho!" she greeted him nervously. "i asked you out, but i don’t even know your name." he laughed, sounding equally nervous. "i’m so nervous, i’m sorry," he added, and it was hard to believe that jeong yunho, the star, could be nervous about meeting her, but i guess we’re all human after all. "you’re jeong yunho," she replied shyly, "you’re a star. i’m the one who should be nervous." he smiled softly. "what’s your name?" "i’m y/n," she said awkwardly, holding out her hand. "y/n," he murmured, his eyes lighting up. "your name is as beautiful as you are." instead of shaking her hand, he gently took it, his touch warm. "so… what now?" she asked, unsure. yunho chuckled and, with a quick glance toward the hotel he pointed to, he gently led her that way.

“i hope that wasn’t a turn-off,” he said, glancing back at her. his voice had a light, teasing quality. "are you kidding? i don’t think anybody could make signing an nda sexy," she replied in mock offense, before quickly adding, “but you did.”

he laughed, the sound soft and easy. as they neared the hotel, he looked at her again. "i would’ve taken you to dinner first, under different circumstances," he confessed. "you can always make it up to me next time," she teased.

yunho grinned, his gaze lowering to hers as he moved closer. he placed his forehead gently against hers, the simple contact sending a quiet warmth between them. “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispered. "we could just talk." you nodded, understanding. you weren’t the type for casual hookups, but something about yunho felt safe, comforting. his hot breath against your skin only made the feeling more intense. “i want it,” you whispered back.

his smile deepened at your words. without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips warm and soft against yours. his hands found their way to your jaw, cradling your face as he deepened the kiss. you could feel the rush of breath between you, the heartbeat that seemed to sync with your own. “you can still refuse,” he murmured, pulling away briefly.

you pulled him back in by the collar of his shirt, your lips brushing against his. “how about a shower first?” you whispered against his lips. yunho raised an eyebrow, amused. “kinky.” “you’re probably a sweaty mess after the concert,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed.he grinned, his eyes darkening with mischief. "there’s going to be a lot more sweating."

the second kiss was even more intense, more urgent. the taste of his lips, the shared warmth, the undeniable pull between you, it was intoxicating. clothes became an afterthought as you both fumbled to undress, each movement laced with anticipation. "we’ll take it to the shower then, baby," he chuckled, leading the way.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part twelve

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 3.2k (3203)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part thirteen!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

If revenge took so much time, you weren't sure you wanted to take revenge against Gabriel and possibly Ursula. You had been spending all your time calculating your ex's steps in great detail for a month now, trying to find the tip of the iceberg that hid a world of mistakes underneath; but you couldn't find this tip, and you were starting to lose hope. You knew for a fact that Gabriel had a lot of secrets that the more hidden the worse they were, but you couldn't figure out where to start to unmask these secrets of his. You can't help but admit that he's a smart person, and he's definitely trying to use this potential to hide all his mistakes

After that night, Kaiser had decided to take his vacation early to enjoy some time with you, and in his humble opinion you yourself needed your boyfriend to work better and send Gabriel to hell. It was Kaiser's cute way of saying he wanted to be around you, you knew, but it made you laugh to imagine him as if he were at home planning some sort of murder with his soccer ball. Besides, since you had that hysterical crying fit, you had never found yourself without breakfast ready in the morning and someone to take you to and from work. Some paparazzi had intercepted Michael in the car, but so far you were not in any other current scandal. If they had started something you would have simply shut everyone, the media and the entire world, with yet another excuse

You pick up the phone, retrieving it after hours in the hands of the stylists, who have used your body for at least four consecutive hours with the clothes of the next fashion show. Today in the agency there are few models, you and a few others scattered throughout the entire building; Ursula should be in her office and there is no trace of Gabriel since this morning. It's a pretty boring day, the next show is still far away and many prefer to stay home and come in the afternoon, if they have to. You could have stayed in the arms of your beloved boyfriend in your soft and warm bed, but if you really want to find out something about Gabriel you have to be around all the time

And if that means wasting hours you could spend with Kaiser, you'll do it for now. You sighs, checking messages you've received

mihya ♡

— Return home at least for lunch is not an idea, right? — 12:08

— I take that as a no, schatz — 13:10

you — I was busy, sorry love — 13:20

— I had guessed it. But for dinner I want to order from that french food shop that disgusts you, so be ready — 13:21

you — Obviously I'll eat before I return home, disgusting boyfriend — 13:21

— You are hurting me badly. You might not find your favorite socks when you get home — 13:22

you — MICHEAL KAISER TOUCH THOSE SOCKS AND I SWEAR TO GO BACK TO ITALY, I SWEAR — 13:23

— You're always so sweet, schatz. Any news on your evil plan of destruction? — 13:23

you — None other than I'm thinking of giving up. That bastard seems to have everything hidden so perfectly, my god. I thought I had learned to read he at least a little after years, but apparently not. I'm thinking of just making up something far away that he might have done and making it the news of the century. It looks cool — 13:25

— You could say he cheated on you, manipulated you, maybe even slapped you once, and you wouldn't even be lying — 13:26

you — I don't know whether to be amused by the fact that you're absolutely right or to feel stupid for letting him act like that — 13:27

— The one that make you feel better, or the one that make you come home to me now — 13:27

you — Mihya :(( — 13:28

— Shall I pick you up then? — 13:29

As you are about to write 'yes' to Kaiser you notice someone passing by you, proceeding towards his destination with a certain hurry. You look up, noticing that that someone is Gabriel, who strangely did not bother you as he usually does. His face is a bit worried, and his pace is hurried as he begins to climb the steps that lead directly to Ursula's office. He has a folder in his hand, from witch a sheet of paper accidentally slips out, ending up on the steps

You put your phone in your pocket, making a mental note to answer your boyfriend. You walk a few meters away from Gabriel, who disappears from your life as soon as he passes the highest staircase. You run to the place where the paper fell, pick it up and sit for a moment on a nearby step, taking a long sigh. The last time you had to deal with secret papers you almost risked ending your friendship with Kaiser, but in the end the result is having him as a boyfriend. Will it bring you luck this time or not? You ask yourself this because, deep down, you know that this paper is important, maybe really important. You yake a little preparatory sigh as you begin to observe

The sheet is presented with simple data about the models and their paychecks. For some more information are written, such as their age and how long they have been working for the agency, but reading it you cannot find your name. You reread the paper several times, but you can't find yours. Why, even though you work here, you are not on the list of models?. You search for the name of some model you are more or less friends with, and at the bottom of the description of one you find a somewhat strange sentence

"Alleged friend of X. Seen with her more than a few times, probably they have an informal relationship. Seems to know about X's situation, possible collaborator. She might ask for a raise, a higher position at the next fashion show, or a transfer to another agency"

You reread the sentence several times, not fully understanding it. What should she be a collaborator for?. Also, she's a model who's been in the agency for a short time, and you're the only one she has any sort of relationship with. You'd like to avoid thinking about it, but you think X is a code name they gave you, for who knows what reason. You turn the sheet over, and in the white part you find a small erased note, still half legible

"She simply asked for a pay rise and more vacation days during the christmas period. She will provide information via messages during the day. X should have told her about deleted and maybe some details about her old deleted"

The girl in question then spoke, but on what topic? If it's really you X, you've never told this girl anything personal, except some old stories from when you were in other agencies, but those have nothing really important. Did she lie?. You get up from the step, walking towards Ursula's office with a cautious step, hoping not to find anyone on your way. Arriving in front of the door you look from inside the crack to see if there is anyone, but you are surprised to see absolutely no one and to find the door open, which is strange considering that Ursula is very reserved. You inadvertently find yourself opening the door, being careful not to let anyone nearby see you. You look in the office, but while you are looking on her desk you hear voices, two that you recognize well, talking; you think they are coming from the corridor, but when you check you don't find anyone. You go back into the office, and noticing the door of the personal bathroom slightly open you are convinced that the voices are coming from there. Cautiously you hide behind the wall that separates the bathroom from the office, trying to figure out why they are in the bathroom and why they are Gabriel and Ursula in question. Maybe you have seriously found the last thing you needed to unmask Gabriel, or at least you hope

"So?"

"You saw the papers I gave you, right? She has few relationships here, with the other models. The only one who agreed to talk said she'll call me tonight or send me messages, but I don't know why I can't find the paper where I wrote it... maybe it stayed at my house. I don't really care, I just need to know that I'll finally have some material in my hands"

"And will it be enough?"

"I suppose so, after all the media doesn't take much to ruin a person, and she's not in such a good situation already. Give me a week and you'll get what you want too"

"I've been waiting for two years, Gabriel. I'm fed up, if it doesn't work this time I'll do it my way, and you know my methods aren't exactly legal"

"Trust me, you'll get what you want and I'll get what I need. I just need to get those messages tonight and by tomorrow you can already say you're her"

"Now I really like the way you talk"

"Maybe you already love me but you don't want to admit it"

"Let's go step by step, I'll think about that later"

"Do as you wish, darling. Just think that from tomorrow Y/n will no longer be her but you will be her. The dream you have been living for will finally come true, and that slut will end up in some forgotten place. No longer the stylist, but now the model, my dear Ursula"

You are petrified, hearing their words. Even without knowing the situation, you already know that those two are doing everything they can to get you down once and for all, probably using something much more powerful than scandal.

"No longer the stylist, but now the model. And you, dear Gabriel, no longer the founder, but the general boss"

You pick up your phone, going to Kaiser chat to start a voice message. You need to record, you know you need to if you want to get out clean off this situation. You're ignoring the tremors that are plaguing you, because now you really need to concentrate, it's for your final win

"Anyway, I really don't believe it took two whole years to get to this point. On the one hand, I'm also sorry I treated her like that, it wasn't that bad... she's nice, more or less. But if treating her this way means I get where I want to go I don't care, or maybe I never really cared about her"

"Two years because, I don't know how, she withstood the scandal. I suspected she would swallow it completely, but evidently she still has some tricks up her sleeve. Then I can't imagine what's going on between her and her fucking best friend, the famous soccer player I mean, Kaiser Micheal. Will they fuck?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. I honestly don't know if she hasn't let anyone else touch her after me yet"

Oh well Gabriel, you have pretty high hopes. You and Kaiser had fucked a few hours after you broke up, let's say you hadn't wasted any time

"You're just a junkie, Gabriel. You ruined that poor girl for your own interests!"

"Are you speaking, Ursula? Destroying someone who has never done anything to you is not exactly good behavior, dear. Being obsessed with the idea of Y/n just because she is actually a successful model, something you couldn't become, is a bit of bad behavior... you even went so far as to ask her beloved boyfriend for help"

"And you destroyed her to become the boss of the TraumLaufsteg, silly"

You've had enough, you get up and leave the office in a hurry, running as fast as you can towards your dressing room. Everything is so damn clear to you, finally something has formed with a logical thread, and damn, this time you even have the proof. You don't know how for two years you didn't notice anything, but finally everything is clearer to you; you won, really won. You arrive in your dressing room, closing the door behind you as you rush to the couch, once again taking up the chat with Kaiser where your most precious evidence rests. You sigh deeply, listening to the audio of less than 5 minutes, where Gabriel basically unmasks himself together with Ursula. You notice that Micheal has viewed the message, and because of the emotion you can't even write, so you opt for a voice message

"Mihya... we'll talk about it at home. But trust me, trust me, this time I've really won, this time I can make him look like a monster, this time I can seriously-" you say excitedly, but you turn when you hear footsteps in the hallway that you would recognize anywhere. The door to the room opens, and the smiling figure of Gabriel makes your blood run cold "Am I disturbing you?" he say "What the fuck are you doing here?" you say, getting up from the couch, and he shrugs "Nothing big. I just think you listened to too much" he says, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb. He saw you, you don't know how, but he saw you. But this time it won't be a problem to be there, this time you decided that he won't hurt you "I heard, oh yes I heard, you piece of shit" you say taking a few steps forward "How good, my sweet Y/n. She still knows how to spy and listen" he say giving a small laugh, but grabbing your chin "So, what would you like to do? Who would believe the naive girl who everyone believes betrayed the genius of Italian fashion? Do you really think your opinion counts so much compared to mine?" he asks, mixing seriousness with a hint of sarcasm. You don't look down, but you suddenly have a little plan in mind, if everything is happening as you think "Gabriel... god, I hadn't thought of that. You're not entirely wrong" you say, faking a surprised and sorry tone, while you lower your gaze, as if you want to make him feel superior. He raises an eyebrow, smirking when he sees you so defeated, so naive and innocent "You see? You know it too"

Showing yourself weak might help the plan you just came up with. You hate to do it right now when you were showing yourself strong, but if the outcome is what you imagine, you have to do it

"And this time you want to send me down too. How did I not notice that..." you say mortified, and he seems to be convinced "You're so stupid, you don't act so strong when Kaiser's not around, right? Look, I guess you guys fuck, or maybe I don't even know, but I don't care. This time he's not around" he says smiling "And you are the umpteenth brainless and alone with a badly used potential. You could have remained silent in your place and lived at least another year without me having done anything to you, we would still be a couple and only then would I have spoken against you. And yet no, you acted like a bitch and unleashed a huge mess, coming here in Germany"

Gabriel continues, caressing your face "It was never my intention to hurt you, sweetie. The first year was beautiful between us, remember? We lived well in Milan and you paraded like a professional model, even though you had never been in the industry that much... good times. But then you found out about my first cheat, but you didn't leave, silly girl, because you loved me so much. And so, while you were growing in fame, I suddenly became 'Y/n's boyfriend' and no longer the fucking founder of the biggest Italian modeling agency of the moment, and it bothered me darling, it bothered me so fucking much, because I fucking created you. And so while I was looking for some German stylist to open a fashion agency in Germany I met Ursula, who coincidentally was so obsessed with you. She who has always walked the catwalk never got your fame, and she got fed up with creating clothes but not wearing them, and she wants to be you so much, amore mio. So while she became the boss of the TraumLaufsteg, keeping my identity a secret, I continued to cheat on you, and you always noticed everything, baby. The goal was to push you down as much as possible, I would become the official boss of the TraumLaufsteg, which I would later merge with my Italian agency, since Ursula would finally become a model and could give me the role. Because I depend on you, but you depend on me, slut. And if that meant making you the shittiest person in the world, painting you as a traitor, I would have done it. And I did, because I knew you would go down and I could finally take over as the boss of the TraumLaufsteg. And yet you got back up even after the scandal, and I don't know how"

Finally, everything is clearer to you. Gabriel's words come out like a raging river, and you don't know if you're still looking sad, because inside you're dying of happiness. You knew it was shit, you knew it damn well, and he admitted it. You loved a piece of shit that has now exposed itself, without him knowing it. You had been stupid, so damn stupid to let everything slide, but you finally had everything in your hands

"So you admit that you cheated on me...?" you ask sounding desperate, and he nods happily "More than you can imagine. You're gorgeous, I can't lie, but you're more type for a long term relationship, and in the fashion world relationships between people last as long as a fashion show. I've probably been with seven or eight different women... maybe a few more" he says thinking about it "And you painted me in front of the media as a monster" you say, returning to the main topic. He shrugs, sighing, "Give the media what they want, right? No one would ever imagine you would cheat on me, but remember, my opinion carries some weight. I've made up so much bullshit about you that I can't even remember anymore, but look where you are now... you're about to sink. And I love this thing"

You sigh, falling dramatically to the floor as you cover your face "I can’t believe this…" you say, but you’re hiding a laugh. It’s all working out, it’s all worked out, you’ve got it all. Gabriel chuckles softly, giving your hair a light caress before leaving the room "Sorry again, sweetie. Don’t make me feel too bad, good fall into hell"

He leaves, the room is finally empty and silent again. You stand up, moving towards the couch where the phone is still open, and the audio in Kaiser's chat is still recording, and Michael's online

You won. You fucking won

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan ; @sabrina-senpai ; @vannilaa16 ; @kaz-0e (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

[cupidbedsy]

♫ phone call ; ice bound

➪ summary: trevor is at his wits end trying to fit in in the nhl causing him to lash out on chloe, ending whatever relationship they might have had

➪ warnings: trevor yelling at chloe and insisting they were just hooking up, broken glass (picture frame), illusions to blood ('red staining the thin material of her socks')

➪ word count: 0.7k

➪ file type: ice bound blurb

➪ cupid's notes: purely bc I am such in angst mood. i didn't feel like writing any more tonight so I just went back and edited this and now we're here !

Trevor had been acting off since the middle of April, almost like he was trying to distance himself from her. Chloe had noticed how tense he got whenever she would mention her brothers or how fidgety he got when they were out in public together. His texts were less frequent, same with his calls, but she had expected that when he got called up. 

But now it was a week before her birthday and she hadn’t heard from him since the Ducks left for their Midwest road trip which was about a week ago. Her text were left on read and her phone calls were left unreturned. 

So when she was in her dorm and drafting lyrics to a new song, she wasn’t expecting her phone to light up with a call from him. Giddiness flooded through her as she reached over and clicked accept, bringing the phone to her ear, “Hi Trev! How’s the trip going?”

She heard him sigh, she could feel the irritation and hear the slight undertone of sadness in his breath. She furrowed her eyes, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, “Are you okay?”

“I need to talk to you Chloe.”

She blinked at the use of his name, the slight coldness in his tone made her skin crawl. She was used to him calling her Chlo or some cringe-worthy nickname, she wasn’t use to him adressing her by her full name, it was unnatural for him. 

“Talk about what?” Chloe fiddled with her pencil, tapping it rapidly against her notebook as she shifted on her chair. 

“We have to stop this.”

“Stop what? What do you mean?”

“What I mean…” he huffed slightly, trying to convince himself that this was what he actually wanted, “is that we should breakup.”

She trembled slightly but held her self together. She didn’t know where this was coming from, they had been doing so well, or at least she thought they were. She tried to rack her mind for a time where she had done osmething wrong or said something wrong but she came up empty. 

“I need to focus on hockey, Chloe,” he continued, taking her silence as a sign to move on. “And I cannot do that while I’m worrying about my best friend finding out I’m hooking up with his twin sister.”

“Hooking up? Is that what we are- were?” His words were like a dagger to her heart.

“I can’t, Chloe.”

Her voice turned harsh, she wasn’t going to let him dowthis without a decent explanation. She had been fucked over too many times already, “Can’t or won’t? Trevor I don’t know what you’re thinking about right now. Is it about the season? It’s going to get better, it did for Jack-”

“But I’m not Jack, Chloe! Don’t you get that? What if it doesn’t get better, what if I don’t get better?”

The two both held their phones, hands shaking slightly, eyes glassing over as silence consumed them. She could hear a shout form the other line and seconds later was mumbling, “I gotta go. Don’t call me or text me… please.”

He hung up, leaving Chloe to sit in her dorm room more alone than she already was. She looked over at the picture frame on her desk, it was a picture of her, Trevor, and Jack. She was in the middle as both placed their arms around her shoulders. She reached over and held it, fingers rubbing over the wooden frame. 

All the happiness she used to feel when she looked at the photo faded away as Trevor’s words echoed in her mind, turning that happiness into a deeper melancholy feeling. Anger flooded through her as she threw the picture to the ground, glass shattering and scattering around the wooden floor of her room.

She couldn’t even find it in herself to be fazed as she placed her feet down fully and the glass cut through her feet, red staining her the thin material of her socks, a bitter, raw emotion coating her voice, “Happy 19th, Chloe.”

꒰ ICE BOUND TAGLIST ꒱

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[shrimptiger]

Alright, normally I don't talk about drama but at this point, I'm pretty tired of it, so I'll just get this off my mind, because it's not like I'll change anything, but YALL ARE BEING SO FUCKING WEIRD WITH THIS LANDO AND MAGUI BULLSHIT.

I've never looked into it, but I'm just trying to scroll on tiktok or instagram and every few weeks I just get like 10 posts like "oh, Lando is in *place*, guess who else is there?", or I'll get a random clip of Lando in public that seems perfectly normal, oppen the comments, and everyone is saying that he's carrying her phone or something.

I can not understand why people care so much, it's not confirmed weather they are dating or not, it's literally just fans making speculations that have gone so far there are literal people who think they are in a public relationship because of so many people posting them and saying that they are 100% dating. If you want to speculate, do whatever you want, I can't stop you, but please just stop spreading misinformation.

I don't know what they are doing, and I don't care, I'm just minding my own business and you should too, whatever they're doing just let them live their lives and be happy for them or fucking explode with jealousy or whatever the fuck quietly, because I'm sick of my recommended/home/for you pages just being flodded with this bullshit.

If you want to know what I think about them, tho: from what I've seen it seems like he doesn't even interact with her but she just keeps trying to chase after him, I saw on tiktok a few months ago that she posted a picture of her infront of his apparent building or something and dating or not, I think that's freakish behaviour, and I really think she should delete that if she hasn't already, atleast for his privacy if not her decency because that is making her look like a hella obsessed fangirl. Obviously, I didn't randomly start thinking and ranting about this, so I'll tell you that what made me do this if a reel that popped up in my instagram feed from a f1 gossip accont of them being spotted togeder at a new years party in Dubai. That clip is gross to me, because you can see him ducking away from the camera and it was even mentioned in the caption, and people in the comments were laughing because "oh, he's so ashamed to be with her" or that they were holding hands (to me, that just looks like he was holding her shoulder, some people also said that she grabbed his hand when he pulled it back but I didn't see that)

Honestly, whatever, if they're dting, good for them, if not, also good for them, people alredy ruined Landos last realtionship so I completely understand him wanting to keep this secret if they are, even tho she keep hinting at it, but maybe she's just an obsessed friend, who the fuck knows?

I also won't post that clip, because I can't download it and sharing the link could show my account, so I just won't do that, which is probably for the better, we should just respect his privacy, because none of us would like being recorded 24/7 and posted online, even if that is part of his job, just let him live his life off the track.

This might be full of typos, I literally can not be bothered to read through this and check so whatever, feel free to rant about this in my comments, reblogs, or my ask box, just don't go in my dms, I'm here to speak my mind, not argue.

[adormeee]

Meddle about

Fratboy!Matt & Shy!reader(readers named lana)

꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ

As you settle into your seat a few minutes before class starts, (you’ve always liked coming to class early to organize your desk area) you take out your wired headphones to listen to music while taking notes. You’ve always liked them more than airpods because they’re not as easy to lose.

The bell rings and class starts, you start writing down what the teacher writes. You look for your pink highlighter before you realize it’s somewhere in your backpack, so quickly retrieve it.

As you do so a few knocks are heard from the door, mr. Harris walks over to see who it could possibly be. “Mr. sturniolo! it’s great to have you.” Your teacher says sarcastically “sorry mr i was us-“ “using the restroom” they say in unison. The class laughs at this interaction.

As Matt starts to walk to his desk mr. harris stops him “Sturniolo i would like to have you switch with someone” he thinks for a moment. “ah could you switch with Diana.”

Your head turns to see Diana’s expression, shes been your desk buddy since the semester started and she’s also your closest and only friend. “But Mr. Harris I haven’t even done anythingg” she whines.

“Thats another reason on why you will switch with matt, you need to focus better up here and he can get help from lana, isn’t that right lana?”

“oh -uhm yeah mhm” you answer him “Great it’s settled please hurry and switch he have a lot to cover today and a project to discuss.

As they switch seats matt settles in the back to where Diana was previously sitting. He takes out his textbook before he looks for a pencil or something he can use to write with.

After he can’t find something he looks next to him seeing you have two mechanical pencils on your desk. “ ‘ya think i could borrow a pencil” he whispers “ uhh yeah sure” as you pass him a pencil. His fingers graze your hand for a moment before you turn back and start writing your notes.

He stares at you before turning to write down his notes.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ྀི১

The class instinctively groan all together, “settle down settle down! class don’t get to excited” mr. harris chuckles at his own joke, you also let a slight laughs out too before covering it up with a cough. Matt looks over at you slightly smiles. “i’ll give you guys a week to do some research and making it into google slides, please use the time to look over your notes and making it look nice i don’t wanna see last minute work.”

The class is about to get up to pick their partners before mr. harris blows his whistle. “I would like if you guys would work with your desk buddies it would be easier for me.”

Some people would try to argue but reluctantly agree. Matt on the other hand doesn’t have much care, he thought you would do all the work since you seem smart enough to figure it out.

“so umm- do you wanna start researching some pictures we could use in the project while i do some research about the Neolithic Revolution since we have like 10 minutes left in class?”. Matt looks up from his phone his eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh shit uh yeah i guess i thought we would do this a day before were supposed turn it in.” he scratches his neck awkwardly not wanting to you the full truth. “I would prefer to start now so we wouldn’t stress about it later on” you tell him.

They spend the last few minutes of class doing research and organizing how many slides they will be doing and it what order.

The bell rings and matt is already on his feet before he hears his name, almost missing it. “Matt! -you still have my um pencil.” he quickly takes it out from his side pocket of his backpack.

“also i wanted to know if you wanted to work on this in the library or at each others houses i- i don’t mind.” you awkwardly look down at your feet.

“We can work on it at the library I just might take a while since i have to pick up some stuff from my locker.”

You give him a quick nod indicating you understand to which he smiles and walks away.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ྀི১

You’re in the library for a good 20 minutes looking through your notes and writing them down in your google slide, sometimes checking the time wondering where matt could be.

Matt is speed walking to the library hoping you didn’t leave, he wanted to stay true to his word and make it to the library. He finally arrives he’s looking around the library walking towards the back, hoping you stayed.

He sighs in relief when he sees you, he stands there for a minute he’s in awe you have this natural glow that can pull anyone in. He is quick to dismiss it before he walks at the table your at.

“Hey, m’sorry im late i got caught up.” You smile up at him “no you’re good it gave me some time to organize some of our work” you turn your computer towards him so he can see what you’ve been working on.

“wow that’s a lot for like what 30 minutes?” “20 actually” you’re quick to correct him “sounds like someone’s been keeping up with the time” he chuckles at you “me? neverrr” you tell him sarcastically.

You guys spend an hour working your project, his gaze sometimes lock in on you as you spoke even when you got of topic and started to apologize numerous of times which made him smile and chuckle at you.

You guys finally wrap up the bit of work you both have done. You both walk in sync to the parking lot, once outside you start walking towards the exit of the parking lot plugging your headphones into one ear.

“Wait you don’t have a ride?” you turn to him “no my car broke down so i have to walk!” you exclaim “let me drive you home, my treat for making you wait.”

You hesitate before reluctantly agreeing you follow him to his car, you open the door to the passenger side sitting down as he starts up the car, “sorry for the mess” he chuckles “no no your good” you smile at him before looking out the window.

There’s this silence as he starts to drive you to your house after you told him where you live. Rain starts to pour harder and harder by the minute feeling up the silence in the car.

“The rain is really starting to pour luckily you had me.” he smile looking at you for a moment before looking back at the road. “yeahh” you slightly giggle. “Shit i think i might need to pull over i can barely see the road.” you look at him worried is written all over his face.”

You guys pull over to an empty parking lot. You both sit in silence as the rain starts to pour harder.

“Soo… you have any siblings?” matt questioned as he looks at you “ Matt you don’t have to make conversation with me it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk to me out of school don’t force yourself.”

Matt frowns at you i mean he knows you guys are completely different from each other (popularity likewise) but he wasn’t that mean unlike his brother chris.

“No lana im being serious i wanna get to know you i mean we are working on a project together so might as well use the time to get to know each other” he leans in closer his elbow on the center console. You bite your lip before picking at the skin of your nails.

You’re really not used to talking to anyone other than Diana so this whole situation feels a little weird. “I guess i just don’t want you to be seen talking to someone like me.” Matt’s eyebrows furrow “ to be seen talking to someone like you? what is that supposed to mean?” “ you know what it means Matt.”

“No i really don’t” you sigh “it means you will get teased by your friends by being forced to talk to me.” Matt scoffs “Oh cmon Lana you think they could do something please they are all bark no bite.”

You quietly laugh feeling a comfort in his words. “And plus if anything i think they would get jealous that i’m talking to a pretty girl like you.” you blush at his kinds words “you don’t mean that your just bein’ nice.”

He leans in closer his face inches away from you “I can prove it if you want doll” your breath hitches you’ve never kissed anyone and never expect it to be Matt.

Matt doesnt know what overtook him, he’s usally never the one indicating the kiss but with you he feels something different something more calmer.

He finally closes the gap smashing his lips against yours. He tastes your cherry lip balm your soft lips trying to work rhythmically with his. His had moves you jaw holding you steady in place.

He pulls away slightly “You’re really fucking pretty you know that?” before he starts to suck your neck softly. You whine at the pleasure of his lips on your skin “Matt…” “ yes- “ kiss “doll?” kiss. The kisses, his calm voice making you feel all kinds of things, “we- hmm.. -we can’t” you pull away from him.

His fucked out expression looking so desperate for you or maybe to just be touched “I don’t wanna be part of your roster of being another girls pants you’ve gotten into, we both know we won’t be anything more than what we are now.”

You hesitate before you tell him your biggest secret “i’m also a -um virgin.. so i’ve never really never done any of this and i don’t don’t think i’m ready.” you tell him looking down at your nails avoiding his gaze.

“But i- Lana-” you interrupt him“The rain seemed to calmed down just please drive me home Matt.” you just wanna get out of this awkward situation.

He complies as he starts the car and drives to your place. Once he arrives at your drive way you tell him ‘bye’ before exiting his car. He watches you as you walk away thinking about what happened earlier.

He can’t get the feeling of your soft lips on his the noises you made because of him out of his mind, he pops his train of thought before pulling out the driveway and back to his place.

Meanwhile you let out a shaky breath you didnt know you were holding in. You greet your mom who was in the kitchen before heading upstairs pondering your time with matt wondering how tomorrow could go.

꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ ꣑ৎ

a/n : starting a short lil seriessss!! 🙈🙈🐰(also the picture of the girl is a reference photo for the readers outfit!)

taglist: @mialovesyouchris

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 2

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1 (previous)

WARNING: There is a mention of concentration camps and antiquated ways of referring to the LGBTQ+ community in this chapter. In keeping with the times that Stan was raised and the communities he might have encountered growing up, I'm deciding to use these terms until he can get some education from the kids. Personally, I may have him use 'queer' to define himself since that's the term I use for myself. Just a heads up.

“Dipper, where's your sister?” 

“.... who?” 

Stan gave his nephew an unimpressed look and crossed his arms expectantly. 

“I don't know! She didn't tell me! And, plus, I told her not to!” 

“Oh dude,” Soos chuckled from where he and Wendy were looking through the new magazines. “You folded faster than a British butler. That's gotta be, like, a record or something! 

“Don't know anything, huh?” Stan's eyes narrowed as he leaned in, blocking any escape routes. Dipper's eyes darted away from him nervously, trying to find anything to look at besides his grunkle. “Then you wouldn't happen to know… what Mabel's doing in the paper next to that greasy pickpocket Gideon?!” 

“Oh yeah, it's a pretty big deal," Wendy said easily, showing Stan her phone's group chat. Between her and that little screen, ― which was a lot easier to see now ― Stan knew all he needed to know about the upcoming date. 

“That little shyster has no right to date my great-niece!” Stan shouted, crumpling up the offending news article that had threatened his blood pressure when he saw it at the breakfast table. 

Soos didn't help anything with his couple name speculations. 

Stan hurried to don his jacket and grabbed his keys. 

“This ends tonight!” He declared hotly. “I'm going right down to that little skunk's house and putting a stop to this! Right! Now!”  

He snatched up his cane, slamming the door behind him. He’d club the little brat over the head if he had to!

He couldn't believe the nerve of those kids, sneaking around behind his back! And here he thought that he and Mabel had reached an understanding! 

Moses, she really was too much like Ford. 

Never listened to reason, either of them! Never thought that Stan knew what he was talking about. They just had to get out there and stick their noses where they didn't belong. 

Well, he wasn't going to let Mabel go tripping through some strange portal because she was too curious for her own good! 

Stan spun the wheel sharply, screeching into a parking space at the gate of the Gleeful home. He threw a rock at the billboard of Gideon as he stormed up the entryway. 

The little hand stitched sign on the door only served to aggravate him further. 

“I will pardon nothing!” Stan scoffed, slapping the sign off the door. 

Buddy Gleeful opened the door, looking down at him with irritation. 

“Can I help you, young man?” 

Young man? What was Bud smoking in there― 

Oh yeah. 

Stan puffed up, wondering if he'd always had to look up slightly to meet Bud's eyes and put on his best ‘grumpy, old man’ expression. The effect was somewhat dampened by his babyface, but he pushed on anyway.

“Out of the way, bud.”, he commanded. “I'm looking for Gideon.” 

Bud perked up at that. 

“My goodness,” he exclaimed, tone changing entirely. “You must be one of my boy’s new little friends! Come in, come in! I haven't seen the boy around, but I'm sure he'll be back in just a minute. He's got a new little girlfriend he's just crazy about!”

“Yeah!” Stan stomped his foot, but couldn't get away from Bud dragging him inside. “Mabel's my nie― cousin!” 

“Cousin!” Bud exclaimed in surprise, leaning down to look at Stan better. “Why, are you Stanford's son? I never knew he had a boy of his own! Well, apart from that Jesús fellow, but you are the spittin’ image of him!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan said uncomfortably, avoiding Bud's eyes. “Stanley Pines… The Second.” 

“Good to meet you, son!” Bud clapped him on the back jovially and ushered him to the sofa. “Sit down, sit down! Honey, would you mind gettin’ us some lemonade? Young Stanley here must be parched, wearin’ that suit in this heat! We wouldn't want our son's future in-law fallin’ out on us, now would we?” 

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Gleeful said blankly, pausing only a moment to peer at Stan before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“Wait, what?” Stan blinked rapidly at the clown painting on the wall, temporarily in awe of the beautiful contrast the artist had used. He wouldn't mind having that hanging in the Shack… No― he couldn't get distracted now! “Future in-law?! Absolutely not!” 

“Well, when the kids are singin’ in harmony, what can you do?” Bud chuckled, accepting a glass of lemonade from his wife when she returned. “Thank you, hon.”

“You're welcome, dear,” Mrs. Gleeful said absently, her empty eyes settling on Stan. “Did you say your name was Stanley?” 

“The Second!” Stan said hastily. “After my late uncle.” 

“From Jersey?” 

“Yeah, from ― how do you know that?” Stan said sharply as he sat up.

“I've got a cousin from there,” Mrs. Gleeful murmured, a little more life entering her expression. She looked almost wistful. “She was a bit older than me, but she used to have this boyfriend named Stanley. He was… a beautiful dancer.”  

Stan felt his hands get sweaty and he nearly dropped his lemonade. Which, speaking of ― when did she put that in his hand? 

“I, uh―” he muttered anxiously. “I never met the guy. Think he died or something…” 

“What a shame.” Mrs. Gleeful sighed. 

At least Bud looked just as uncomfortable as Stan felt.

“Honey, we don't talk about Carla, remember?” he said tightly as he fixed his car salesman's smile on Stan again. “So, my boy, how's your father doing? With my Gideon and y’all's Mabel hittin’ it off so well, I'd like to talk to him about the fantastic business opportunity it could provide us with!” 

“Whatchu talkin’ about, buddy?” Stan fixed the man with an unimpressed glare. 

“Think of it!” Bud exclaimed, spreading his arms theatrically. “The Mystery Shack and the Tent of Telepathy! Your father and I have been at each other's throats for far too long, yes, we have! This is our big chance to brush aside our rivalry and pool our collective profits, y’see?” 

Stan felt his face light up at the idea of profits, but then he hesitated.

Any other time he might have jumped at the opportunity. It just sounded too good to be true. Which is what stopped him in his tracks. 

The lemonade was all right, but it wasn't enough to distract him like a good cup of Colombian coffee might have.

And the idea of using Mabel as a business tool… just didn't settle with him. Maybe it was the lack of cataracts, but somehow, something about this whole setup just looked off to him. Like some kind of honeypot.

He’d dealt with those before, but it had been so long that being thrown back into the pits was startling. The whole thing reminded him of the weekend he'd met Marilyn in Vegas. She'd lured him in with sweet words and the promise of working together to get ahead in life ― and then she tried to steal his car.

“Tell Gideon,” Stan began coldly. “That if I catch him steppin’ out with Mabel again, raykh zol er zayn un hobn tsvey oytos. Eyn oyto zol loyfn khapn far im a dokter, un der tsveyter zol loyfn moydie tsu zayn, az s’iz shoyn nokh alemen!”

He stood up, relishing the stunned looks on the Gleefuls’ faces and wondering just when the spirit of his late mother had decided to speak through him. 

Eh, whatever. It was effective all the same. 

Stan slammed the door on his way out, stomping on the flowers in the garden as he went. 

He still had to find Mabel. 

Stan returned home to find a morose Mabel and a lobster in his fish tank. 

As long as his mother's spirit was infecting him, he might as well get in a good lecture.

_____________________________________________________________

“She doesn't know how to call it off with Gideon and not hurt his feelings.” Dipper said as he and Stan stared at the girl. She was laying face down against the armchair cushions and making sounds that would have been right at home in a whale documentary. 

Stan felt some of this previous ire fade and he slumped in exasperation. She just looked so sad. He was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to give his lecture.

“You want to deal with that while I take care of Gideon?" he asked, jabbing a thumb in his niece’s direction. 

Dipper grimaced at the idea and lifted a hand to lower Stan's arm. 

“Maybe I should be the one to break the news to Gideon? Mabel and I talked about it, but maybe you should talk to her. Weren't you married before? Just tell her what not to do in a relationship.”

“Kid, that marriage only lasted four hours.” Stan grumbled, shoving his nephew's hat down until the boy stumbled blindly. “But fine, give that little brat a few licks on my behalf and I'll talk to your sister. Y’think some ice cream’ll help?”

“Couldn't hurt!” Dipper gasped, finally freeing his head from his hat. “Be back soon.” 

Stan watched him go for a moment, a slight smile curling his lips. 

Yeah, the kid really was a lot like him. Especially when it came to protecting their siblings. He only hoped that Dipper and Mabel would turn out better than him and Ford. 

“You doing okay there, pumpkin.” Stan asked, sitting on top of the T-Rex skull and leaning over to rub her back. 

Mabel let on another whale sound before turning her head just enough to peek up at Stan. 

“I don't know,” she admitted, defeat evident in her tone. “I just wanted a friend and Gideon keeps trying to turn himself into a boyfriend. Grunkle Stan, dealing with boys is hard.” 

Stan snorted. “Don't I know it? They don't get any better as you grow up either. Learned that the hard way back when I was dating Jimmy snakes in New York.” 

New York in the late seventies hadn't been all that bad at first. The people that were more colorful and had a tendency to look the other way when they saw something shady going down. And the night life there was nearly as good as Vegas's. 

Jimmy hadn't been that bad at first either. He was a cool cat with his own place and a motorcycle that he could go all night. In more ways than one, if you caught his drift. 

But all good things had to come to an end and Stan had to leave Jimmy and the town if he wanted to keep his head attached to his neck.

“You had a boyfriend?!” Mabel cried in shock, finally sitting up. “I didn't know you could do that!”

“Kid, people can love whoever they want.” Stan shrugged, trying to shake the age-old memory of his father's lectures about homosexuals and the things he'd seen done to them while helping break down concentration camps in Germany.  Pa’d always gotten a strange look in his eye when he talked about his army days and inevitably trailed off. But the parts he did talk about were horrifying. Stan refocused on Mabel. “But that doesn't give Gideon the right to push you for anything. No one has the right and don't you ever let them guilt you into believing otherwise. Just punch them in the kisser if they try!”

Mabel snickered and threw a mock punch that didn't look too bad. 

“That's what mom says too!” She said cheerfully. “And our kickboxing coach!” 

“You a fighter, huh?” Stan snickered, ruffling her hair. “Maybe I should be teaching you the ol’ Pines’ Family Boxing Moves.”

“Yeah!” Mabel lit up even further at the idea. She looked at Stan with stars in her eyes. “Will you really teach me?”

“If it’ll help keep yous two outta trouble,” he agreed, tugging her to his chest. She hugged him back readily, feeling like a little furnace for his heart.

He’d do anything to protect these kids. And teaching them how to box! Even if Ford hadn’t liked the lessons, it was still something they had fun doing together. And now he could share the experience with his niblings, too!

Now, they just had to finish getting that money-grubbing, fake psychic out of their hair and they’d be golden!

_____________________________________________________________

The whole Gideon situation was getting way out of hand. Something had gone wrong with the ‘breakup’ and now both the twins were missing!

Stan was grumbling about it the whole time as he headed up to one of the Gleefuls’ old factories. He'd found the address written down in Dipper’s handwriting on a carbon copy in the receipt book. And then he found out from Wendy that Mabel had gone off to break up with Gideon in person, having felt bad about Dipper doing it for her, not realizing she was following her brother right into a trap!

What was with these kids?!

He blamed Ford.

Somehow, someway, it had to be his brother's influence causing the kids to get into situations like this. Maybe it was genetics. Or, more likely, it was that damn journal of his! Stan still wasn't having any luck in getting his hands on the one Dipper had. 

Would it kill the kid to leave it laying around somewhere? He even took it into the bathroom with him on the rare occasion when he showered.

Speaking of which, Stan really needed to have a talk with his nephew about hygiene. 

He sighed, wondering just what had become of his life, and rounded the curve. The factory was now in sight and ― Sweet Moses!! 

Stan hit the brakes, the car squealing in protest, and watched in horror as a pair of tiny figures toppled over the side of the cliff.

“Kids.” He screamed, flooring the car in the direction of their fall. He cut off the car and threw himself out, nearly face planting in the dirt. 

Thankfully, there were no splatters of his family littering the forest floor but he couldn't deny the sight of Dipper and Gideon caught in some green, mystic glow while Mabel floated overhead, wreathed in the same unearthly light.

Stan collapsed to the ground, unable to hear the kids’ conversation over the pounding in his ears. 

Oh God, he could have lost them and he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.

All because of Gideon. 

He didn't know how he found himself on his feet or why the twins were suddenly yelling at him, but he had his hands on that pudgy, little brat and memories from Mississippi were flooding back to him. Eight-Ball Alcatraz had gotten his hands dirty in that muddy water more than once ― never for murder but, hey! He was young again and there was plenty of time to try something new.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shrieked, launching herself into his arms and forcing him to drop Gideon. 

The boy fell back, squealing like the pig he was, and scrambled away, various items spilling from his hair like a trail of breadcrumbs.  

A flash of gold inevitably caught his eye. 

Stan pivoted, snatching Dipper up as well, and fell to the ground once more with the twins safely encased in his arms. 

“I thought I lost you two.” He admitted, burying his face in their wild curls. “Oh Moses, I saw you go over that cliff―”

“Grunkle Stan…” Dipper squeezed free of the embrace just enough to stare at his uncle with surprise. 

And why wouldn't he, considering how gruffly Stan treated the boy? It was hard to handle Dipper the same way he did Mabel. Pines boys had to be tough, so you had to treat them tough. Make them strong enough to face the world on their own ― because the world would never be kind to them.  

That was the way Filbrick had taught his sons and Stan had always believed in it for some reason.

But holding Dipper and Mabel like this after that scare made him re-evaluate his plans for the summer. He never wanted the kids to think he didn't love them ― no matter how much he needed to pretend otherwise for the sake of his ruse.

Even Ford wasn't worth pushing away what he added with the kids right now. 

“Grunkle Stan, what happened with you?” Mabel asked, grabbing his face. Her own was crinkled with concern and a trace of fear that made his heart clinch. “That was ― That was really scary.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. “I just… lost it there for a second. I told you that Gideon was no good!”

“Considering the way he swore vengeance on our entire family,  I agree.” Dipper said tiredly, his eye beginning to swell. Gideon must have gotten in a good hit while they were falling. 

Stan squeezed them a little tighter. “I won't let him get even close.”

“We destroyed his amulet.” Dipper assured him, relaxing at the reminder. “You saw that… right? How Mabel saved us with a magic amulet? Well, at least you can't deny that magic exists anymore, right?”

The boy chuckled nervously, looking up at his uncle with a margin of hope.

Stan sighed heavily. “Kid, I've always known.”

There went the cat, the bag dragging along behind it like some half rotten corpse. 

The twins looked up Stan in shock.

 “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“I'm not an idiot, Dipper.” Stan rolled his eyes, exasperation seeping into his tone. “Of course this town is weird! And the one thing I know about that weirdness is that it's dangerous! Case in point ― Gideon and his magic amulet. You could have died, you knucklehead!”

“Then, you being all young again…” Mabel's eyes were wide as saucers. “Why lie about that?”

“I wanted to keep you away from it all. To protect you. Looks like I can't lie about that anymore. Not if I want to keep yous two in one piece.”

The twins shared a look, some silent conversation taking place between them. Stan recalled sharing many of those looks with Ford when they were kids. 

“We're sorry for keeping this from you, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper said.

“Yeah, we never meant to get caught up in all those wacky messes.” Mabel agreed, a bit more lively than her brother. “They just sort of happened!”

“And we haven't even seen half of the things in the journal yet.” Dipper added, a strange mix of worry and nerves crossing his face.

“Journal, huh?” Stan looked away from the twins, only a fraction of his real interest showing in his tone. “Think I could take a look at that?”

Dipper's face creased with worry. “I guess… if you agree to give it back!”

“Only if you promise to use it for self-defense and not go looking for trouble.”

If that was the only way to get the journal, then so be it. He'd just have to keep a closer eye on the twins until the end of summer. 

“Well then,” Dipper fumbled, still not wanting to give over his most prized possession so easily. “You don't have any other bombshell secrets about this town you plan on dropping on us, do you? 

“No, I think that's it for the town.” Stan hummed in agreement, grateful for the loophole his nephew had inadvertently given him.

Now, bombshells about their family…

Mabel yawned against Stan’s chest, snuggling further into him. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, finally releasing the kids. “First one to the car gets to ride shotgun with me!” 

The twins leapt at the opportunity, suddenly revitalized by sibling rivalry, shooting away from Stan like rockets.

He grinned after them before rising to his feet and picking up his loot.

 The six fingered hand gleamed beneath the moonlight, a bold black number two in the center. 

“Finally,” he breathed reverently, placing his hand over the gold foil. “After all these years, I have them all…”

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Or even better, you can become a YouTuber. That way you can edit your streams or just ramble non-stop about lore for shit you like

oh i fear that'd involve listening to my voice and i'd rather die than do that

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

currently riding that 'new hyperfixation makes me actually want to care about myself and grow as a person' high. what a time to be alive.

[hope-ur-ok]

so my polaroid camera died (rip) and I'm thinking I might want to buy a new one before boys like girls but I don't know if that's a terrible idea. and like if I do what should i even get, I like the idea of the instax mini evo cause it's the most like my old one while still being better but i don't know, send help

[icterid-rubus]

I’ve got a bizarre and predictable cycle of making friends getting very excited about hanging out and seeing them a lot and then becoming terrified and tired of hanging out and it’s annoying

[rubberduckyrye]

Getting my playlists sorted for the big Move to....... my iphone......

Ick!!!