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barleyo · 8 months ago

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Daddy's Girl.

Step Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Don't like? Don't read! Either way, READ THE TAGS. I'm starting to get pretty weird on this blog, so expect more stuff like this! A girl has to feed her fetishes, so feel free to tag along with me and enjoy what my sick little mind thinks up. Thanks for reading!

Tags: stepcest, step-dad/step-daughter relationship, cream pie, daddy issues, use of "baby girl" and "daddy's girl," daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, infidelity, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, LARGE AGE GAP (legal), 2nd person POV

Word count: 2.1k

As far as your mother was concerned, your father was worth less than the sum of his parts. He was fleeting idea, a mere concept in both of your lives ever since you could remember. Sure, you remembered a few odd Christmases with a surplus of gifts, all tagged "from Daddy," and a few daddy-daughter dates here and there, but that wasn't enough to make up for his true absence.

It wasn't a surprise when your mom eventually left him, scooping you up with her. Just you and her, and the rare postcard that your sperm-donor decided to ship off once a year or so. It was good enough then when it was just you two finding your way in the world, but it went downhill when your mom found a new boy toy.

Leon.

He wasn't a bad guy, by any means. Wasn't pushy, didn't make you call him "dad" or try to impose his will onto you, but his presence made the absence of your real father that much more obvious. You tried to ignore him for the most part, letting your mom have her little relationship with him to tide her over.

But then they got married. Leon became a more permanent fixture. That was no bueno.

You toughened it out, being cordial with him until you finally hit that mark of independence: sweet, sweet 18! The big one-eight, your ticket to freedom!

Everything was planned out for your big day. Mom and Leon made a cake, presents were given, and all birthday wishes granted, except for one. What you really wanted, was for your dad to show up for just this one day, just this once, to have him and not just his money.

You could never get that lucky, though, and that thought was cemented in your head when you found yourself waiting for him outside of your house. The driveway was empty, not even your mom's car was out there, she still had to head off to work. The world couldn't pause for a birthday girl, it seemed.

Stepping back inside to the house, you slammed the door behind you, practically throwing yourself onto the leather couch in the living room. The tears started faster than you could contain them, and quite honestly, you didn't want to contain them. It was your party, damn it, and you would cry if you wanted to!

"You okay, kid? I heard the door-"

Fuck. Him.

Leon's heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs, leading to his place in front of you. "(Y/N), are you crying?"

You sucked back a breath of air, steadying yourself as much as you could before speaking.

"No, 'm not, just-- go, just leave me alone." You let your face drop into your hands, staining your sleeves with tears.

Leon, being just the right amount of pushy, took a steps next to you a placed his hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk about it? I mean, I probably know what it is, but we could- you could say whatever you need to say." His face cringed a bit at his own words, feeling like he was already fucking this up. "No judgement."

You kept your face covered but obliged, knowing that talking about it, even with Leon, would make you feel a little better.

"My dad isn't here. He's been promising for weeks that he'd show, but he isn't here."

"Oh."

Your step-dad bit his lip trying to figure out how to make you feel better. He knew you weren't exactly fond of him, but he felt a twinge of responsibility.

"Fuck 'em," Leon finally decided on. "He's a liar and you don't need him. So, fuck 'em. Why would you want a deadbeat to bring you down on your special day?"

"Because, he's my dad," you said, like it was the most obvious thing. He was right, of course, but the absence still hurt you.

"No dad would stand up a sweet girl like you on her birthday. You only turn 18 once. A real dad wouldn't miss a birthday this monumental for anything. What's he worth, if he can't keep to his word?"

"I guess nothing." You sat up straighter, trying to make yourself calm down. "D'ya think it's, like, my fault? Why doesn't he want to see me?"

He suddenly got really serious, making his grip on your shoulder firm.

"Not at all. You are a wonderful girl. Your mom thinks so, and so do I. You are brilliantly smart, kind, responsible, sweet, gorgeous-- you're perfect and if that scumbag can't see that, then he's beyond saving."

He loosened his grip, letting his hand fall down to your lap, a bit close to the crotch of your jeans. You didn't look down, trying to convince yourself it was an accident, but he didn't move his hand either.

His other hand came up to your face, holding your cheek and to your own surprise, you leaned into his hand. His big, calloused, confronting hand.

Fuck him.

Something snapped in you when he leaned in for a kiss. God, it was wrong, so wrong, but you were so conflicted. Is this what a father's love really felt like? Hell if you knew, this was close enough in your book.

"Hmph-! Leon..." You pulled away from the kiss, wiping at your mouth roughly to get rid of the salvia strings connecting the both of you. "This is wrong, this isn't okay, my mom-"

"Is not here."

He placed another kiss on your lips, this one chaste and sweet, so unlike the passionate one you shared before.

"Just you and me. I know your dad isn't here, but I am. Let me make up for him, baby." His whispers pricked goosebumps over your body, lighting a fire deep in you. "Let daddy love you. Can I show you?"

His big hand looked nearly comical resting against the small button of your jeans, pawing desperately at them. So, so, so wrong. So fucked up, so not okay, so....

"Yes," you said breathily. "Okay, I-I want you to show me. Just be careful please, 'cause.." you trailed off a bit, feeling the pop of your pants opening.

Leon yanked them down, tossing them away quickly. "Fuck, that's good," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound through your panties.

The fabric slowly grew a wet patch that clung to you, getting sticky. He placed a soft kiss on your clothed clit, then rested his head on your soft thigh.

"Anybody ever touch you here?" he asked, running a finger over your pussy.

You softly shook your head, mumbling out a 'no.'

"Mm, more for daddy, yeah? Gonna make you feel so good," he said, slipping your panties to the slide. His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding up and down on your clit.

Your face was already twisting up in pleasure, eyebrows knitting together tightly.

"That's cute," he blew cool air over your cunt, keeping his eyes on your face. "You like it? My mouth all over you like this?"

"Mhm, please- don't stop. I wanna feel it again."

You reached your hand out to hold his head, wanting to push it down before bringing your hand back nervously.

"That's right, push my head down if you want. 'M here to make you feel good, so you use me. Just a wet mouth for you today, sweet girl."

You nodded eagerly, running your hands through his blond hair and taking taking firm purchase of a section of it. Your hands greedily pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue dug into your tight hole made you feel fuzzy inside.

Leon was so vulgar with his noises; he almost enjoyed it more than you were. Slurp after slurp came from his mouth, accompanied by a moan or two while he tried to get himself off by palming himself through his pants.

The sight of him was just as good as the feeling of him. You had never been taken care of so thoroughly. Leon was opening a whole new world to you, a world where you could be selfish and take, because your daddy would provide, no questions asked.

"Lemme try somethin', yeah, baby?"

He shook your hand off and spat directly on your clit, spreading the fat glob with his fingers. Tight, fast circles were traced over your bud, back and forth. It felt like hypnosis, the way he reeled your body in closer to an orgasm.

"Daddy, please, 'm gonna cum," you said, face flushing of all color. "Your mouth, want your mouth," you shot out quickly, already obsessed with the feeling of his hot mouth tonguing you down.

He obliged, of course. How could he turn his princess down? Leon's lips again wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud like it gave him life.

You came soon after. You seized and convulsed and the feeling of his eyes taking you in made the waves of pleasure crash down that much harder over your body.

"If he knew what a sweet fucking pussy you had," Leon said, licking a final stripe over it, "he'd never wanna leave."

"Wha--?"

"I said," Leon pulled away from your pussy, lifting his head to your ear, "that even your dad would wanna be tongue deep in your sweet, tight cunt. But it's all mine, isn't it?"

The sound of his belt unbuckling made you wetter, if that was possible, but it also sent a sense of realization through you.

You had your pussy in your step dad's mouth. And you liked it. And now, you would let him fuck you. And you would love it.

"I know you're a virgin, but fuck, baby, you're so tight." His voice was grumbly and strained while he tried to push into you. "Maybe I need to eat you up a little more," he teased.

"No, I need you inside, wanna feel it now." You let yourself go completely. Here you were, whining like a brat while Leon's fat cock stretched you. The pain with sharp, but immediately worth it. He fit inside perfectly, easily hitting your sensitive spots with a few thrusts.

He hissed, feeling you clamp down on his length. "Shh, come on, gotta get used to it baby. Don't want me to cum too quick, do you?"

"Yes, I do," you whined, desperate to know for certain that you were making him feel good too.

Leon's laugh softly rang in your ears. "No, I wanna make it worth your time. Wish I could take you all night long," he muttered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

He swallowed all of your moans, slipping his tongue into your mouth while he rocked into you. He tried to find a rhythm, but he was too lost in pleasure to be neat about it.

He'd fuck you nice and orderly another day, but for now? He just wanted to feel you gush around him, and feel your cunt get sloppy while he took you.

Your breathless moans caught his attention. He found the angle that made you get oldest and stuck with it, lifting your hips up with his hands so he could piston into your g-spot.

"Oh my god, right there! That feels-- oh my god."

"I know, baby," he said, thumbs digging into your hipbones. "Feels good f'me too. You're so good for daddy."

Your heart, and cunt, pounded the more he spoke. You were close and you knew it, you just needed him to keep talking you through it. "I am?"

"Yes, baby, you're perfect. Daddy's perfect little princess, taking my cock so good." His cock twitched, so he clenched his jaw, refusing to cum before you did. "You know what good girls get to do?"

"Hmph?" Your face was red and hot, mouth hanging open while he continued to fuck into your spongey walls.

"They cum hard on daddy's cock. Can you do that for me? Cum all on me?" He traced his hand over your cheek, letting his thumb land on your bottom lip while he egged you on.

Your body had never reacted faster, immediately creaming on his length. Your hole milked him, each contraction gripping his length and sucking the cum right out of him.

Leon let a shaky breath out before pulling out of you, scooping the mixture of your cum in his fingers. He rubbed it between two fingers for a moment and popped it into his mouth, groaning at the taste.

You came down from your own high and looked over at him, feeling guilt pull at your chest.

"Leon."

"Hm?"

"What about mom? She's gonna freak if she ever finds out. Did we fuck up? What's gonna--"

"Hey," he said, shushing you with his finger over your lips. "She's not gonna find out and she doesn't need to know. I might be married to her, and I get why you're stressed, but what we have is different."

He pulled his finger off of your mouth and pressed a kiss to your forehead cheekily. "You're daddy's girl. That makes you special."

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #smut #tw: stepcest #tw stepcest #stepcest cw #dead dove do not eat #Stepdad! Leon Kennedy

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niceutossu · 2 months ago

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Serious | Oikawa x Reader

Oikawa doesn’t want to get married until you get hurt and he can’t see you. “Family only,” the nurse tells him coldly. And he tries his best to charm his way through, joking about how you two were even closer than family but the worker doesn’t budge.

“Only blood relatives?” He asks, despite knowing the answer himself.

“Or spouse.” The woman replied, avoiding eye contact as she scribbled down important information and continued ignoring his existence.

“I’m practically-“ Before he could finish, he stopped at the sight of her hand raising.

“Are you legally married?” She interjected, clearly having gone through this conversation dozens of times before. Oikawa couldn’t even blame her for the annoyance, as much as he couldn’t blame himself for trying.

“No.” He says dejectedly, shoulders falling with a deep sigh.

“Then please just wait until actual family gets here.” She states, motioning towards the waiting room as he did his best not to scowl.

Instead, he offered her a forced but friendly smile, retreating towards the uncomfortable hospital chairs. As he sat down the plastic squeaked: loud and jarring, and he grimaced. There was no point in arguing but it didn’t ease the nervousness crawling under his skin. How long had you been here? How long before he could see you? He began tapping his foot restlessly, only serving to amplify the ache in his chest.

You two were family, practically at least. You both lived together. You shared meals, inside jokes, and the kind of silence that only happens between people who really get each other. He knew how you liked your tea, the temperature you liked to have bath drawn to. Was that not family-like?

He clenched his hands, feeling his fingernails dig into his palms as memories started to surface, further sharpening the ache. He’d never bothered to bring up marriage, and you never asked. You both knew—knew what being a pro-athlete entailed. Time off spent planning was time he lost playing. He thought he had made it clear he was still yours and you were his. But now, as he sits helplessly outside your hospital room, he regrets never saying anything.

If you were really his he’d be able to see you, and if he was really yours then he’d be willing to settle down and take things seriously. He feels himself cringe as he remembers similar words Iwaizumi had spoken to him the night you two had first met.

After introductions and hours of chatting, the three of you finally settled into a comfortable rhythm. You and Iwaizumi were a surprise match—though Oikawa teased that it shouldn’t be that surprising given that he had good taste, earning him a synchronized glare from the two of you.

He felt his heart flip in his chest—he really did have good taste (and maybe a type). Later, during a moment of quiet, Oikawa excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, he found the two of you sitting in a mutual silence.

“Hey I was gone for just a second now, what happened to all the good times?” He joked, his signature smirk only lasting a moment before being startled by the sound of the restaurant staff singing happy birthday behind him.

Turning around, he watched as they brought out a small cake with candles. His name written out in chocolate syrup and topped off with powdered sugar in the shape of his jersey number.

“I told her you weren’t worth it but she insisted.” Iwaizumi deadpanned, but the softness in his eyes betrayed him. Oikawa felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of your warm smile. The glow from the candles were nothing compared to the light in your eyes when you looked at him.

“Happy birthday Tooru.” You spoke gently, contrasting the loud cheers behind him. He felt a weird weakness wash over him, one that scared him more than the surprise singing.

You’d already celebrated with him that morning—and afternoon. He’d never thought you’d extend it to dinner. He was known to be a dramatic guy, extravagant even, but being celebrated for those things felt foreign.

Later, as you took a call nearby and he and Iwaizumi argued over the bill, his friend placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi asked, his voice softer than usual, “you’re serious about this, right?” He didn’t need to specify; his question hung in the air, pressing gently but firmly on Oikawa’s usual bravado.

Caught off guard, Oikawa searched for a lighthearted response, but Iwaizumi’s hand didn’t move. He hesitated, then admitted quietly, “I’ve never been celebrated like this before.” He felt small under the weight of his best friend’s discerning gaze.

In all his previous relationships, he had failed to feel true intimacy, always keeping partners at an arms-length. He thought your relationship would be no different, that it’d still be on his terms albeit a bit toxic.

Except it was not like that at all.

You were like a whirlwind in his life, at first catching him off guard but now helping him build solid foundations. Between the two of you, he was definitely more needy. In the past, he would’ve said it was the other way around but you had your own undeniable magnetism. Anyone with eyes would be sure to see it too, and see right through him at the same time.

The feminine niceties he thought he had grown accustomed to had him giddy and unable to keep his hands off you. Everything you did had his heart racing and for the first time in his life, he was nervous to lose someone.

His suave streak had been brutally ended by your presence alone, having made him feel like he was worth loving again and again without even knowing. His own sweet and cheeky angel.

“If it feels good, then take it seriously.” Iwaizumi replied, his words simple but earnest. Before Oikawa could respond, you returned, bringing back your carefree nature he always craved, the same one he was starting to feel like he didn’t deserve.

Despite it being his birthday, despite feeling a certain question rise behind the heaviness in his throat after his exchange with Iwaizumi, he stayed quiet. He could’ve at least made a joke about it then, but he didn’t.

He’d told himself he was taking it, you, seriously—that you would understand without him saying it out loud. You knew him and he knew you, was that not enough? Maybe not to Iwaizumi, who also knew him maybe a bit better than he knew himself sometimes. The thought of losing you the same way he’d lost others left a knot in his stomach.

He had tried to ignore this truth: that you meant something more—not just to him, but to the people he loved. Yet every now and then, there would be reminders of just how deeply you’d embedded yourself into his life.

He started to reminisce on how he’d found out how you kept visiting his nephew after he’d left for Argentina. He’d received a photo out of the blue: you and Takeru, cheek-to-cheek, grinning at the zoo. His younger self would’ve called it impossible—Takeru, in a picture? Smiling? But there it was.

He quickly replied back with a like to the photo and a teasing message along the lines of ‘huh why what’. He’d barely hit send before you replied with another picture. This time it was of you and his older sister pressed cheek to cheek, her eyes shining with the same warmth he felt every time he looked at you.

“Sponsored trip by my favorite Oikawa <3,” you’d written.

As much as he wanted to text back a cheeky remark he felt himself falter, too focused on the way his sisters eyes shined with the same affection he felt for you. It made him feel a little funny, a little weak. The same way he felt when Iwaizumi prodded him. This was family and something else he couldn’t name quite yet.

Without even thinking he called you, needing to hear your voice and feel like he was there with you (and, of course, remind you that he’s your favorite). He’d kept his tone light, playful. But there’d been a weight in his chest, the same question hovering unasked. He knew you could tell in the way you asked him things, lingered onto his replies as if to find some deeper meaning.

Again, he could have asked. He could have made you family in name as well as in his heart, so many times. Except now, that same question haunted him, and he wasn’t sure he even deserved to ask anymore.

He shook his head as if to rid himself of any more good memories, not allowing himself to relish in you with all the regret that gnawed at him. He was so good at not biting his tongue except when it came to things that mattered. Because nothing was serious to Oikawa until it was, for better or for worse.

And he didn’t know exactly when you had become serious to him, but you had. He felt a tremor pass through him at the thought of seeing you look anything less than alive. Or not being able to make you laugh when you come home sullen anymore.

He moved around restlessly at that thought of not seeing you again. It felt wrong—horribly wrong. He took in a deep breath to calm his ragged nerves. He would see you again, even if it meant seeing you at your worst.

You had seen him at his most selfish and prideful and yet, you still reached out to him, unafraid. He wanted, no, needed to show you that he loved every single part of you the same, no matter how overwhelming because no one could be as much as he is sometimes.

All the relationships he had in high school, college, and the flings in-between had felt so stifling. The thought of making a legal commitment had always made Oikawa’s skin crawl. Except now, sitting under the sterile white lights and thinking of just how much you meant to him feels even more suffocating. You weren’t a high school girl or a fling, you were you.

And then the realization hits him hard: maybe he does wants all of it, as long as it’s with you—the highs, the lows, the commitment he once ran from. For there to never be any more regrets, to love and to cherish, all of it as long as it was with you.

But what if he was too late again?

“Tooru?” The soft sound of your voice pulls him from his spiraling thoughts. His head snaps up, eyes wide as he sees you standing there, in a hospital gown, looking a bit pale but alive. Your face is a little worn, eyes sunken in but you’re still here. You’re still you. Relief floods him, so overwhelming he barely notices the creak of the plastic chair as he rises, taking long and purposeful strides towards you.

If it feels good then take it seriously.

He stands in front of you for a moment, not knowing where to place his hands as familiar words gather in his throat the way they had so many times before. Except he doesn’t let himself hold back—not this time. He’d held onto these words for too long, out of fear or pride, whatever it was, it didn’t matter now.

Everything is clear as he sinks down on one knee, eyes locked on yours as he finally gives in to what he’s always wanted: you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa fluff #did I cook if so pls leave reviews #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa x y/n #niceutossu

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cavegirlpoems · 4 months ago

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A story from back when I played D&D. It might have been 3.5 or pathfinder or fantasycraft or one of that ilk. Might even have been 4e. It was like a decade ago.

So. Standard D&D. A party of bold adventurers of diverse origins and skillsets gets together to explore a perilous dungeon and stop a cartoonish baddy. The usual.

I end up building a fairly typical character for me. A goblin Rogue/Assassin. A stealth/melee build designed to get the drop on an enemy, do a bunch of rapid damage, and then fuck off.

She was lawful evil, and firmly in the team-fortress-two-sniper school of "You know who has a lot of feelings? Men what bludgeon their wives to death with a golf trophy. Professionals have standards." school of being a mercenary. I think I even did an aussie accent.

Anyway her schtick was that she'd noticed 'Adventurers' got to do as much violence as they wanted without social consequences, and she loved violence! So she was gonna do a stint as an adventurer, so once she was done she could go home with a big sack of gold to spend on booze and cake and hot girls. But right now she was on the job, so she was an extremely professional team player with a strict code of conduct. Always be honest with the team, follow the plan, don't mess things up for the team, split the loot evenly. Standards.

Verna was a horrible efficient little murder gremlin who was also proudly guild-certified. * * *

Now, another PC was a chaotic neutral gnome bard who was leaning hard on the 'gnomes are amusingly racist to goblins and kobolds and think this is funny and endearing' thing. He teased Verna a bunch about being green and ugly, which she studiously ignored because - remember - she had Professional Standards.

Anyway, there was a human NPC we met that she didn't like, saying he was a bit stupid and very annoying. Our gnome bard decided it would be very funny to use one of his enchantment spells to make Verna suddenly horny for him and watch what happened.

Verna sees the gnome who keeps fucking with her walk up, wave his hands and babble some arcane nonsense, and now she has weird funny feelings she can't explain. She does some thinking and concludes that she'll pay the human for a snog later, because right now this guy's just obviously cast a spell to mess with her mind, which was Not Okay. Of course, she had Professional Standards, so...

She walks up to our gnome friend and basically informs him: "Hi! I know you just did some magical brainwashing on me, and I am not going to tolerate this! However, because we're in a team together, and I don't want this to become a problem, I am going to very generously allow you to settle the matter with me. We will have a bout of single combat to first blood, and then whoever wins I will consider the matter settled and my honour satisfied, and you won't do that again, and we won't mention it. This is a very kind offer of mine, because I have Standards; where I come from the normal response would be to say nothing and strangle you in your sleep tonight."

And our gnome, who is a spellcaster not a combatant, looks at this and decides he doesn't want to get shown up by her, and basically tells her that if she doesn't like getting messed with she can go back to the goblin village, and laughs at her.

So. Shrug. Quickdraw as a free action. I get a surprise round. You're flat footed, so it's easy to hit and I get sneak attack damage. 3/4 of his health is gone. Initiative. He says he wants to say sorry. I respond that he can say that when it gets to his initiative count, but right now it's my action and he's still flat-footed and here's my big pile of d6s for sneak attack and oh dear I think that's him on -10 hp, so he's not going to get the chance.

* * *

Anyway this kicked off a massive shitstorm ooc about how I just kicked off PvP and murdered a PC for no reason and the game fell apart because the gnome's player genuinely didn't seem to understand that 'mind control' is a hostile action. This was in the bad old days before safety tools and I was playing in a fairly neckbeardy group, so 'a man makes a woman horny against her will to humiliate her and laughs about it' was apparently not a deal-breaker while 'the woman stabs him for it' was.

I still think I wasn't the bad guy in this scenario.

There is no point to this story I just wanted to share it.

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thetxtdevil · 29 days ago

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Strawberry Dreams *full fic*

Blueberry Boy!Kai x Strawberry Shortcake!Reader

summary: Kai knows a girl and he knows that no one is sweeter. She's got that special touch.

content: NSFW/MDNI, apparently in Strawberryland there's no sex ed so yeah..., fem.reader, reader's body is an aphrodisiac, blueberry kai, both characters are innocent/virgins af, handjob, 69 (bj and face riding), cum eating, slight nipple play?, missionary, implied overstimulation

word count: 2.4k

devil's note: this one’s for you @biteyoubiteme 😘

In Strawberryland, where all the people are happy and a little fruity, a big plump strawberry cottage sits in a green meadow, and across the meadow is a just as big blueberry house. On a nice weekend morning, you open your curtains, letting the sun rays cast your very red house.

“Apple Dumpling, it’s time to wake!”

Opening up the top of the dutch door you hear a call from your blueberry friend, “Good morning y/n!”

“Good morning Kai!” Kai runs out of his house to meet you at your door and you happily let him in.

“Blueberry!” your little sister said waddling up to the man and he was quick to pick her up.“Good morning Apple, what are your plans for today?”

“Apple has a playdate soon, which is perfect because I need to make desserts for tomorrow’s bake sale.” Kai hums looking at Apple Dumpling and her still in her pajamas. “Well let’s get you ready”

Kai puts Apple in her cream-colored hat and shoes as you finish packing her lunch. Then, all of you walk through the sweet-themed neighborhood to Lemon Drop’s House.

<3<3<3

Back to your lovely strawberry cottage, you were making your strawberry shortcake desserts while Kai strums his guitar on your pink fluffy rug in your very red living room. Whipping up icing made from a new recipe you taste for the first time. "Mmm, Kai you need to try this!" The blueberry boy is swift on his feet, prepared to grab a spoon to try your new icing, only to stop once he sees your fingers stretched out in front of him. Kai looks at the creamy substance on your hand and then looks up at your bright eyes. His tall form bends down to lick your fingers, getting more than a taste of your icing. He tastes the light sweetness of the icing mixed with a fresh earthy flavor of,,, strawberry? He agrees that the icing tastes really good, but something felt odd... he felt different... The strawberry flavor stays on his tongue, he becomes hungry, not in his stomach, hunger burns in his chest down to his groin wanting more of that taste.

Kai's blue eyes study your focused face attention back on your pastry. Watching you spread the icing on the cooled white cake. He noticed that you must've been a little too excited with your new recipe as there were specs of the cream on your cheek and neck. The next event happens fast, you gasp feeling something soft and wet licking your neck. You look down only to see a fluff of the blueberry boy's sapphire hair. Frozen not knowing this weird yet good feeling, before you can say anything Kai fixes himself and goes back to playing his guitar covering his hard-on in his pants.

Putting the last of your finished sweet treats in the fridge, you waddle tiredly into the living room. Your lidded eyes look over the blueberry boy who is curled up snuggling next to his guitar. Smiling, you take the instrument out of his grasp and lay a strawberry patterned over his body. A sigh leaves your lips as you get on the floor next to Kai, fingers finding their way into his blue hair, soothing you to sleep.

What must’ve been an hour-long nap, you wake up to a slight change of sun rays in your living room. Out of habit, you again look over Kai’s physique to find something odd. You pout wondering what was wrong, your blueberry boy appears to have a tent in his pants. Shaking him, waking up the man below you, he groans in frustration. “Kai, what's wrong down there?”

“I don’t know,” his low voice grumbles, already bothered by his erection. You brush your hand on his covered dick causing him to gasp. You felt your insides twist for the first time at the sound, “does it hurt?”

“Yes, well kind of” he shifts, “it felt nice when you touched it.”

You ask if you could free him from his pants and he nods, pleading for you to do something. What whips out had your insides twist again, and your usual blushed cheeks become bright tomatoes. The irritated erected dick pulsating in much need of attention. “O-oh,” you gulp, “can I- can I touch it?”

“Be soft please.”

You nod and slowly bring your hand to his cock. Dainty fingers brush the tip, captivated by the sight of the lilac pre-cum coming from his tip. You smear the drops all over the tip and shaft finding the cream makes it easier to stroke him. Whimpers roll out of Kai’s tongue, his hands come up to his face embarrassed by his reactions. You learn the faster you flick your wrist the more abundant his moans become. “St-strawberry I- need-” You’re so hypnotized by his body you don’t pay attention to what he’s saying, “I-i need something.” His hands move from his face grabbing the fluff of the pink rug underneath him. The blueberry boy’s eyes were tightly shut and his beautiful mouth gapped.

“Hum, what’s wrong, do you need something?”

“Y-you, I need you!”

You’re stunned, you don’t know what to give him other than working hard on pleasing his dick. Your other hand reaches to soothe his thighs, fingers coming close to his balls. A big welp comes from the man making you interested in playing with them. You find yourself becoming uncomfortable between your legs, pressing your thighs together the more Kai whimpers. Then to your surprise what looked to you like blueberry whipped cream spurts out of the tip of his dick onto his nice white shirt.

Your pussy felt like it was on fire, shifting in your spot to find yourself drenched. The blueberry boy’s chest was heaving trying to catch his breath. “Berry, are you still in pain?” You ask, rubbing his bulking chest.

“No, I feel… much better, but-” his blue eyes stare deeply into yours, “I still need you.”

You look over his body in thought, not knowing what to give him. His hand grazes your thigh making you jump at the sensation. “Kai?” the man hums pinching the fat of your thigh, “can you clean up what's in between my legs?”

Kai’s hand drifts from the top of your thigh inwards to feel nothing but wetness. His eyes widen, resulting in him trying to reach further fingers slipping into your folds. A moan instinctively passes through your ruby lips, your hand slaps your mouth looking at Kai. “Does that feel good Strawberry?” You nod, Kai smiles happily to make you feel as good as you did to him. His fingers leave your cunt putting your juices that soaked his digits up to his mouth. An animalistic groan rumbles out of his chest causing his eyes to darken. The taste of your arousal was more addictive and seductive than the taste of your skin.

You jump when Kai quickly reaches for your hips, dragging you to sit on his face while lifting your skirt over his head. “But Kai won’t I crush you.”

A mumbled “don’t care” blows into your dripping pussy making your breath hitch. You felt like you were going to go cross-eyed feeling his tongue diving deep into your folds. An unexplainable feeling fills up your insides naturally grinding onto his face. You slowly get your bearings, placing your hands on his chest, then opening your eyes to see Kai’s dick growing hard again. However, this time you wanted needed to taste that whipped cream he made.

Leaning down to grab his dick again, you slip your tongue out licking his tip to cause Kai’s hips to thrust up. You hum feeling his groans sending vibrations straight to your core. You make more kitten licks on his tip until you are comfortable taking his whole tip into your mouth. Both of you moan at the feeling of each other’s mouths. You had no idea what to do with Kai’s dick in your mouth, figuring to reach your hand around his length to do your newfound skill. Kai thrusts his hips up into your mouth, almost gagging you in the process. You didn’t care, you noticed every time you went down on him the more his moans vibrated into your cunt.

The sweet and saltiness of Kai was purely satisfying for you but you could feel yourself getting wetter. All you could think of was how pretty your Berry would be, face all wet from you. The more you thought about it the more your body reacted. Grinding against the pretty boy’s face chasing the stinging feeling in your stomach while you bobbed your head faster. Synchronized moans resonated in the strawberry cottage, both of you getting more whiny, both of you getting to each other’s climax. The last force into your throat you feel Kai’s purple cream fill your mouth in complete ecstasy tasting nothing but blueberry scone.

However, Kai was dissatisfied that you hadn’t come yet. You whine when you feel the lack of Kai’s tongue in your hole. A harsh lift of your hips, your eyes widen at Kai manhandling you down on the carpet. “Sorry love, I just want to see you.”

You grind on nothing when Kai admires your body below him. You whine like a puppy seeing this dark blueberry in front of you. Has he always been this big? You always thought your Berry was beautiful, but has his features always made you feel like you were going to boil over?

His eyes trail from the plush of your red lips to the plush of your covered tits. His big hands are grabbing at the mounds causing your back to arch. “Can I see them?”

You nod, helping him get your top off. You didn’t understand they were just your breasts, what was so special about them– “Oh!” A screech courses through your throat when you feel Kai’s mouth on your nipple, resulting in finding another place of pleasure. One hand massages the other breast while his other hand finds its way back to your folds. Fingers deliciously explore your cunt as they try to find your tight fluttering hole. He slips one finger generating a moan from you and pulsating around the digit, and then another. You cry at the stretch but soon you feel your wetness dripping down your ass onto your cute carpet. Kai’s lips let go of your breast trailing kisses up to your neck to the tips of your cheeks. “Do you feel good?”

“Y-yes Berry yes!”

Kai’s smile fades when he gets an idea, “What if- I put it in?” Your squeezed-shut eyes slowly open, looking at the beautiful blueberry boy on top of you then down his body see his hard dick so close to your cunt. Your fingers play with the hem of Kai’s shirt sending a signal to have him uncovered too. Drool runs down your crimson lips seeing the expanse of the man’s body, the sight distracts you while pulling your skirt off. Laying back down, you feel your heart pump hard against your chest, hearing the pounding in your ears when Kai finally puts his tip to your hole. “y/n?” you look back at his blue eyes, a reassuring smile on his face, “are you ok with this?”

“Yes,” your hands clench around his biceps, “but can you kiss me?” Kai leans down, sweet plush lips that always made you smile with his words. Now, with the taste of his earthy blueberry flavor lips, you relax along with your fluttering hole welcoming Kai’s fat tip in. A small gasp leaves your lips at the slight sting of the stretch, Kai kisses your lips over and over soon becoming addicted to your taste again.

Kai bottoms out taking your breath away. You felt so full and complete with this new sensation. The blueberry boy stayed still, his kisses exploring your face and neck. Something inside you felt antsy, you needed more, like how Kai needed more earlier. Your hips squirm under him sparking pleasurable friction. Both of you gasp, then look at each other knowingly. The blueberry boy’s hips move, continuously pressing his leaking tip on your cervix. You didn't know how to process your pleasure, head falling back, mouth screaming the prettiest moans for Kai.

The man was so invested with you, he has always felt admiration for Strawberry Shortcake but your cute reaction gets him going harder. A screech erupts from your mouth when Kai hits a certain spot that has you seeing stars, “Berry, j-jus-ah like that!”Kai tries so hard to keep his pace, thrusting into you but you are clenching around him causing his whole body to shiver. Heat starts to boil in your stomach “Mmm Kai I feel-” his little whimpers tickle your neck pushing you further into bliss. You cum on Berry’s cock along with his blueberry scone cream filling you up. Kai crashes on top of you, both of you calming down from your highs.

The man lifts himself and slowly releases himself from your gummy walls. His big blue eyes sparkly at the sight of your spent body, trailing down to your swollen cunt seeping his lilac cream. His fingers tease your folds, gathering your strawberry juice along with his cream. You flinch, “Berry, I’m sore,” your complaining is interrupted by Kai shoving his fingers into your mouth tasting a mixture of both of you. You moan against his digits, “Let me just-” Kai bows his head to your pussy, “taste you again.”

<3<3<3

You stir the freshly made jam sauce on the stove, while Kai stands behind you with his arms around your waist. A knock on the door signals to both of you that Apple Dumpling has arrived. The little girl runs in while Lemon Drop walks in to greet you both.

“Sister and Blueberry, I had the most fun day today!” Kai loosens his grip on you to catch Apple who was already wanting him to hold her.

“Is that so little one?” you smile fixing her curly locks.

“Yes, Soobin and Meringue took me to Strawberryland’s Zoo,” Apple exclaims with the biggest smile.

“Yeah it was a fun day,” Soobin says smiling at Apple, his eyes drifting towards Kai and you noticing a particular glow, “it seems like you two had a fun day too.”

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @incogrio, @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman

#txt devil #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #huening kai smut #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai smut #hyuka smut #huening kai hard hours #huening kai hard thoughts #huening kai x reader #huening kai x y/n #huening kai x you #hyuka hard hours

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seijorhi · 5 months ago

Text

Violent Delights

for my very dearest best friend (wife) @iwaasfairy i'm sorry it's super late, but august and april both start with 'a' which basically means they're the same month <33 iwaizumi hajime x female reader w.c 4.4k tw: yandere themes, non-con, drugged reader, blood/gore, murder, incest, sorta smut (nsfw)

M I N E

It’s funny in a way. Amidst the wreckage, the blood, what was left of your friends and the cooling puddle of cum splattered across your naked stomach, four letters carved into your bedroom wall seemed almost… harmless. Or at least the easiest to digest. Fixate on.

The detective asked about your ex partners, the dates you’d been on recently, whether or not you’d noticed anyone in your day-to-day paying you too much attention, if anyone made you feel uncomfortable, or said anything that seemed out of place.

But your exes don’t care enough to kill, and the two dates you’ve been on in the last six months never bothered to text you back. No one’s left weird, unsettling gifts, or stared too long in line at the coffee shop. There’s nothing. No precursor or warning, no giant red flag waving in front of you.

Mine.

Hovering on the edge of numbness, blind hysteria just out of reach, you stare at the beige walls of the hotel room they’d put you up in, the angry gouges flickering in and out of existence with every blink.

Mine.

Kaori was the one obsessed with all the true crime stuff. She’d be the first to tell you psychopaths and nutjobs – they don’t jump straight into drugging and triple homicide. There’s a pattern of behaviour. Escalation.

Something you missed.

Then again, considering it’s her blood still caked under your fingernails, there’s a strong possibility she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about the whole thing to begin with.

You need a shower, a proper one – not the glorified sponging off they’d given you at the hospital. Enough to get you out the door, not nearly enough to scrub away the grime and rid yourself of what he did to you–

The others had it worse. You survived. He barely touched you.

Mine.

The thought of scalding water, of scrubbing yourself raw does hold a certain appeal, yet hunched over atop starched white sheets, those same bloody fingernails sink into the flesh of your arms instead, grounding you in the tiny bite of pain.

Minutes tick past and you don’t so much as twitch. Not until a sharp knock sounds at the door and a gruff voice calls out your name.

You wait half a beat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, you slowly edge yourself off the bed, making your way to the door. Through the peephole you spy a dark haired officer, different to the one who’d dropped you off, staring back at you.

They did tell you there’d be an officer with you the whole time, at least for the next twenty four hours.

“Miss?” he calls again, and you distantly realise that while your hand is poised over the deadlock, you haven’t moved to undo it.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your forehead meeting the wooden door with a muted thud, you curse that stupid, tremulous fluttering in your chest. They’re here for you, protecting you. You’re safe.

Open the damn door.

“Y-yeah?”

Coward.

“Brought some food for you. Dinner.” There’s a rustling on the other side, and you raise your head to peer back through the glass in time to see him lift up a paper carry bag to the peephole. The idea of eating anything right now has your stomach roiling in protest. “Nothing fancy, but it’s good, I swear,” he says. Then, gentler, like he’s talking down a spooked animal, adds, “You need to eat.”

Still, you hesitate. All you need to do is open the door, grab the food and then at least it’s there if you want it later. Easy.

Too quick, too jerky to be natural, you twist at the handle and yank the door open a scant few inches, enough for you to reach out an arm expectantly for the food. “Thank you,” you pre-empt, because hungry or not, you’re not completely without manners.

The officer lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. I’m not taking heat from the Cap when the guys on the next shift find you passed out ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything,” he scoffs. “C’mon, we can talk while you eat.” Not a suggestion – you barely have time to stumble back before he’s pushing his way inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The second he takes to flick the lock somehow simultaneously eases the knots in your stomach and sends your heartrate ratcheting.

It’s halfway to a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

“Eat,” he tells you, his deep voice brooking no disagreement as he shoves the bag of food your way and grabs the lone chair in the room, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed and settling himself down. Clearly he has no intention of going anywhere until he’s satisfied you’ve eaten your fill.

With little else for it, you do as you’re told, reaching into the bag to find steamed buns at your fingertips, still warm as you pry open the wrapper– and wince. The familiar scent of pork, ginger and chives wafts through the air, unwittingly digging at old wounds.

Suddenly you’re a kid again, strolling down the hill with your family, one hand tucked safely within your brother’s, the other grasping a steaming hot bun. You’re happy and whole and so, so young–

“Something wrong? You don’t like meat buns?”

Not the time. Ignoring the bitter ache the memory conjures, you’re quick to shake your head, “No. No, thank you. It’s great.” You doubt he buys it, but then again you also doubt he cares so long as you get something in your stomach.

One bite, chew, swallow. Another, chew, swallow – mechanical until it isn’t. The first bun disappears and you reach for the second.

“How’s your head?” he asks.

You swallow down another mouthful. “Fuzzy. Sore. I still can’t remember anything,” you admit, in case that’s where this line of questioning is going. Nothing beyond waking up in your bed covered in blood and a stranger’s cum at any rate.

The blood work they did at the hospital confirmed you were drugged along with the others, the detective mentioning the near-empty bottle of wine they’d found, which they were in the process of testing too. He’d also pointed out the lack of evidence indicating any kind of forced entry, which paired with the former is something you’ve been trying not to dwell on.

The officer gives a considering nod, “That’s to be expected, don’t worry about it. I still think it’s worth asking a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it?” Again, it’s phrased like a question, but already he’s pulling out a voice recorder, setting down on the mattress between you.

“Um, sure. Yeah,” you croak.

A small smile, “Good.” He leans forward to switch on the recorder. “We’ll start with the other victims – your friends. Tell me about them.”

“Kaori, she’s– she was my best friend. We worked at the same grocer when I first moved out of my parents’ place, when I got a job here she made the decision to move with me. That was about six months ago.”

“And the other two?”

“Her brother Koji and another friend of ours Takashi. They came up to visit; Kaori’s been back once or twice since we left, but I hadn’t seen them–” tears blur at your vision and your voice just… gives out.

They’re gone.

You drag a shuddering breath in and it hurts.

Blindly, your hand reaches across the bed, blood tipped fingers sprawling over pristine white, and when they meet warmth – an open palm outstretched – you seize it and cling on with everything you have. You’ll unravel if you don’t.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you chant, each syllable shakier than the last.

He dips his chin, just barely, and squeezes your hand, “You invited them?”

A wordless, wide eyed nod.

“You were close.” Not a question. He sounds like he’s mulling over the thought, though his expression is inscrutable. “Were you involved with any of them?”

This time, there’s the slightest hesitation before you shake your head. The officer frowns, “I need the truth. Your friends were attacked for a reason. Lying to me won’t help bring their families peace.”

The blood drains from your face, your heart lurching on a sickening thud.

Your fault.

Instinctively, you yank back your hand, or try to at least, but his grip tightens – enough to keep you from drawing away, not enough to hurt. Though neither his tone nor his expression hold any condemnation, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter.

You didn’t drug them or pick up the knife and swing. You didn’t invite this psycho into your life, but the fact remains that they’re dead because of you.

“I– it wasn’t like that. We weren’t… I didn’t–”

MINE.

Tears threaten to spill and your bottom lip trembles.

For a long, drawn out moment, he simply stares. There’s a twitch at his jaw and he sighs – more of a grunt, really – leaning back and pulling his hand from yours to rake through his dark hair.

(Stupid, you think, how some part of you mourns the loss.)

“Okay, alright. Fine. We’ll come back to that,” he concedes. “What about other friends? Coworkers you were close with?”

“No, I– I already told the detective I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

An irritated flash darkens his gaze. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking them.” And you must make a truly pathetic picture then, flinching like a kicked puppy, because he lets out another huff, closing his eyes for a beat and visibly working to soften the harsh lines of his expression. “Shit, okay– I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for us both,” he makes an odd noise, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, the sound entirely devoid of humour. “The guy who did this, he either already knows about the people precious to you, or he’s gonna do his damn best to find out, and if he thinks they’re threats, he’ll hurt them, or worse – he’ll use them to hurt you. I need you to tell me everything.”

And so, feeling the exhaustion of the day creeping over you, you do.

You tell him about the small group from work you occasionally go out for Friday drinks with, your old friends from uni, right down to the neighbour two floors below, who’d seen you hauling boxes the day you’d moved in and immediately offered to help. When you’d christened the kitchen baking you’d made sure to bring him some, and just last week you’d had tea with him and his grandma.

“What about school? Anyone you still keep in contact with?”

You try for a laugh but it sounds all wrong. “I wasn’t exactly popular back then,”

His eyes narrow. They flit across your face like he’s searching for… something. You feel like a bug, pinned in place, squirming and uncomfortable, your face too hot.

“Bullied?” he probes.

Another nod.

“How ‘bout family?”

Your mouth dries.

“My parents… I haven’t spoken to them in months. We don’t really get along.” The last conversation you’d had with them, if you could call it as much, lasted all of five minutes. Dry pleasantries and thinly veiled criticisms, wrapped up in yet another pointed reminder that things didn’t have to be this way – you were the one adamant on shutting them out.

You doubt it’d raise a single eyebrow between them if you went the same again without contact.

“Siblings?”

Another tear slips from your lashes and you swallow against the tight lump in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels oppressive, you’re too bare, too vulnerable, you don’t want to talk about this, so you shift your line of sight to the paper delivery bag, half crumpled now, and let your fingernails sink into the skin of your palms.

Still, the words don’t come straight away, and when they do, they’re strained. Choked. Painted so thick is grief that you wonder if he understands them at all.

“No. I uh, I had a brother– a twin brother. He died.”

You don’t talk about your brother, ever.

Kaori knew the bare bones of it. Koji and Takashi too – you had a twin brother, he died, and it fucked you up. Without ever uttering a word, they’d known not to press, that the wounds left behind weren’t quite as healed as the scar tissue led to believe.

“How old were you?”

Seven, when you lost him. Twelve, when the letters stopped coming.

“Fourteen,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “He was sick.”

Stop asking, stop talking, stop, stop, stop.

When you risk a look in the officer’s direction, his features are hewn granite, eyes set in a hard, angry glare that steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” he grunts, rising to his feet. “You stopped writing long before that.”

There’s just enough time for understanding to crash over you, for your lips to part, a feather light gasp of “Hajime?” to slip out before you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned to the mattress above your head, the officer– a ghost– Hajime looming over you.

“What did I fucking tell you?”

—

‘Sweetie, make sure you hold your brother’s hand.’

They’d meant when you were walking home from the bus stop, or crossing the road. When there was a buddy system so no one got separated or left behind.

Hajime was always holding your hand. Not because your parents told him to, but because that’s how it was supposed to be. You were twins, he’d been born first (by all of six minutes) and you had followed. You were always following Hajime, and he was always going to look after you.

Until he gets put into the Otter class with Mr Inagaki, and you go into Dugong with Miss Ino.

Hajime’s nothing short of enraged. He throws chairs and yells and tries to kick the Principal, but it doesn’t change anything.

It would be good for you, they said, to have a chance to make other friends. ‘You can’t keep using your brother as a crutch, honey,’ your mother gently admonishes.

Hajime scowls at that. Later, when it’s just the two of you hiding away in his room, he tells you she’s an idiot and a liar. ‘You don’t need anyone else. You have me.’

You knew that. You’d always have Hajime, but the other kids in your class weren’t as awful as he made them sound. Some of them were actually kind of cool, and they liked you, too.

For a while, you began to believe you could have both; Hajime and your new friends.

Until one day you’re waiting for him at lunch when a boy from your class tugs on your braids and with a wide, toothy grin, loudly proclaims to the whole playground that even though you were a girl, and girls have cooties, it’d probably be okay if you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You didn’t see Hajime coming up behind you. You’ve no idea where he found the scissors. The only warning either of you get is a sudden, splitting roar before he’s throwing himself at the smaller boy, tackling him to the ground.

‘She’s MINE!’

Silver glints, flashing in the sunlight, and a high pitched shriek rips through the playground as he brings the scissors down on the poor, struggling boy.

With a viciousness you’d never known of your brother, he swings again and again. It’s chaos. The other kids scatter and the teachers run to intervene. Hajime, spitting and snarling, red in the face and half-feral, doesn’t stop for them.

He stops for you.

At the sound of a sharp little gasp, a line of red slashed along your forearm, Hajime stops dead, wide, horrified eyes fixed on yours.

—

‘Sweetie, what have I told you about snooping? I raised you better than that.’

‘But they’re addressed to me. Hajime wrote to me.’

‘Your brother’s not well, those letters– they’ll only upset you. I don’t want you reading them.’

‘… He says he misses me.’

‘I know, but he’s where he belongs, getting help. You want that for him, don’t you? To get the help he needs?’

‘I want to write back to him.’

—

There’s another letter waiting for you when you get home from school.

You hang your backpack near the door, still damp from being tossed in the pool, and eye the opened envelope sitting by your father. He doesn’t look up from his laptop when you reach for it, doesn’t lift a finger to stop you. Nevertheless, the displeasure radiates from him clear as day.

“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s not well.”

You’d scoff if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Nothing you said could ever be taken as ‘encouragement’, and you’re under no illusions about who and what your brother is.

The violence terrifies you. Sometimes he says things in the letters he writes that make your stomach all twisty and your palms sweat, but Hajime could be a monster, and you think you’d love him anyway. You wouldn’t have a choice.

So you pluck at the envelope and tuck it close, making your way to your room without another glance at either of your parents. Sitting cross legged atop your bed, you eagerly scan the contents;

He hates the new therapist. They had a movie night planned, but some asshole started a fight and the whole thing got cancelled. The food’s still shit. He’s fed up and pissed off, whether he behaves or not, they won’t let him out and they won’t give him what he wants, so what’s the point in pretending?

The both of you turn twelve in ten days time – you owe it to him to come spend it together.

—

‘Maybe it’s for the best, sweetheart.’

Dismissive. She’s always dismissive. Your hands curl in response, tightening before you force yourself to flex them out and bite your tongue. It’s not worth the fight. Neither one of them actually care, and nothing you say will ever change that.

He’s angry at you. Or hurt. Both, probably.

They wouldn’t let you visit. You’d begged – cried, even – and it hadn’t swayed them. The rules are that you aren’t allowed to go and see Hajime and you aren’t allowed to talk to him on the phone. The letters are the only communication you have, and when your twelfth birthday comes and goes, those stop too.

You’ve sent four letters since, no response.

He’s shut you out entirely and while you can’t blame him for it, it’s painful.

You’ve always had Hajime, through everything. Him shutting you out feels like losing a limb–

No, it’s more than that. It’s like slowly losing some vital function inside of you. Like your lungs are shutting down and you can’t breathe properly and your heart isn’t pumping the way it should. You feel guilty and horrible and at least twice, you debate trying to find a way to sneak out and make the two hour journey on your own, just so you can see him.

It’s a stupid idea, they wouldn’t even let you through the front door, but it’s the only idea you have and so you cling to it.

You keep writing to him– panicked. Desperate. Begging his forgiveness.

He never writes back.

—

They sit you down at breakfast three months after your fourteenth birthday and tell you Hajime’s gone.

There was another fight, someone pushed him–

You don’t want to hear the details. They don’t matter and your ears are ringing too loud to make sense of them anyway.

Hajime is gone.

The cord between you was stretched and fraying already. He hadn’t written in over two years and probably hated you towards the end but he– he was–

Yours. A part of you.

Gone.

And your mother’s asking about the English test you have second period.

—

“What. Did. I. Say?” Each word is slowly enunciated, a quiet growl that drags an unwilling shiver down your spine.

He smells of wood – of cedar, spice and musk, the notes melding, coiling with the dizzying body heat, the solid weight of him, bracing himself above you.

His lips are mere inches from yours.

Not dead.

Here.

There’s a thousand thoughts racing through your head, connections that light up, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle, painting a deeply unsettling picture – all of which are drowned out by the revelation that Hajime is here.

You burst into tears–

and Hajime – your brother, very much alive and glaring at you from above – surges down to swallow them in a vicious kiss.

The moment your lips touch, all the tension in his body just… bleeds out. Hajime groans, low and heated, his hips rocking, grinding along your stomach, and if you weren’t too preoccupied short circuiting, dangling on the precipice of a panic attack, you’d feel the twitch of his mouth, curling into a small but no less satisfied smirk.

He relaxes, like he’s coming home rather than returning from the dead to land the killing blow.

“Mine,” he answers his own question, breath heavy and ragged as his teeth nip at your jaw. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

The scratches on the wall. Kaori and Koji and Takashi, asleep in a sea of red. The viscous mess spilled over your belly. Your mother’s hushed voice, carrying down the hallway, ‘– only a phase. The books all say he’ll grow out of it before long.’

She hadn’t sounded convinced.

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block it all out as more tears spill into your hairline. Hajime won’t let you. He groans your name into the shell of your ear and licks at the tears as they fall. “Don’t,” he warns, fingers pressing tightly around your wrists ‘til they shoot back open with a gasp, “don’t you dare check out.”

When he rucks up your shirt to find you sans bra and a warm palm slides up to grope the soft, supple skin, a fresh burst of panic spurs you into action. Pinned under his weight as you are, you can’t move, and the idea of trying to physically fight him off is as laughable as it is terrifying – but when you were younger, you were the one – the only one – who could coax Hajime back from the edge, your hand in his.

Until he leapt from it entirely, and they took him away.

“H-Hajime?” A trembling, hiccuping whimper, thick with tears.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause – shuffling down your body to mouth at them instead – but hooded, simmering pools of green flick back up to your face, a hum of acknowledgement rumbling in his chest as he nips and sucks pretty, burgundy blooms across your breasts.

“I-if you ever loved me, even a little… Please, Haji– don’t hurt me like this–” you choke on another sob, pathetic mess that you are.

Hajime goes preternaturally still, eyes boring into you.

You stare right back, fighting the urge to cower and flinch, to turn your cheek and stare at the discarded dumpling wrappers, letting him take what he wants. Praying that he won’t hurt you too badly if you give it to him without a fight.

Because it will hurt, you think. It’ll break you entirely.

(Are you not already broken?)

When his head drops, you can’t help it – the sharp, terrified hitch in your breath – but his lips meet your forehead, then each cheek, before finally they brush over your lips with a tenderness he has no right to. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he vows, cradling the side of your jaw, “I won’t hurt you, ever.”

But that’s a lie, too.

“I love you more than anything.”

He kisses you again, soft and sweet and gentle, as if those promises weren’t sewn from violence and legitimised in blood. As if he isn’t breaking your heart with every sweep of his tongue, plundering your mouth.

There’s no fight in you left when he reaches for the waistband of your sweats and slowly starts easing them down. You don’t claw and shove when the hold on your wrists loosens and then disappears entirely, both hands needed to strip away his clothes.

The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the soft hiss of a zipper, they wash over you, white noise lost to the pounding in your ears.

But you don’t look away.

He strokes his cock – long and thick and flushed to the tip – crawling up the mattress to kneel between your legs like a supplicant before an altar of the divine.

Devotion demands sacrifice.

“It killed me,” he starts, dragging the mushroom head along the slit of your pussy. He frowns a little, leans back and spits – a fat glob of saliva landing dead centre, adding to the mess his weeping cock’s already made. “When the letters stopped coming. I was angry, so fucking angry, all the time. I’d lash out and they’d put me in another cage, and I’d do it again, and again. They tried convincing me you’d moved on,” his eyes flash darkly, “which was bullshit. They’d have to carve me out of you with a knife.”

What shocks you isn’t the violent imagery, but the truth of it settling into your bones, inescapable and undeniable; you’ll always love your brother, even if that very love destroys you.

“I didn’t–”

The first thrust rips a strangled yelp from your throat.

He’s too big, you’re not prepared to take him – and Hajime doesn’t care. His head tips back, shuddering out a breathy laugh.

There’s no pause, no period of grace, seated deep inside of you, the walls of your pussy hugging him tight, Hajime won’t allow you a second to catch your breath and wait for the burning sting to abate. His hips draw back until only the throbbing head of his cock remains inside, and, upon grabbing a leg to hitch over his shoulder, uses it as leverage to punch forward, stuffing your tight little cunt to the brim.

The pace he sets is brutal from the outset. Bruising. He licks at your tears between kisses and moans when you clench and shudder around him. “Never again,” he pants into your ear. “I’ll kill them all if you leave. Every last fucking one. You’re mine. Mine.”

And you’d think it cruel, a punishment, if not for the way those green eyes burn.

When his fingers twine with yours, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there, you wonder if this was always an inevitability.

Hajime led and you followed, hand in bloody hand.

He’d never allow anything less.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere iwaizumi hajime x reader #yandere iwaizumi #tw: noncon

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woniedarlin · 7 months ago

Text

Flipped: Yang Jungwon

pairing: Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You’ve always adored Jungwon since the age of 8. Calling him your prince but he's never reciprocated. Finding you annoying especially when you give him those goo-goo eyes. Despite the years that pass, your love for him remains until a betrayal shakes your foundation. Now, as the tables turn, you find yourself ignoring him while he desperately pursues your forgiveness. Will this cycle of love and hurt ever find its resolution?

warnings: bittersweet, cussing, kissing

note: Hello, my lovely darlings! Based on the title, this is inspired by the movie ‘Flipped’. It took me a while to make this since I had writer’s block. So I deeply apologize if this disappoints you. Happy reading!

caution: Love’s journey may be fraught with betrayal, heartache, and unexpected twists. Brace yourself for an emotional rollercoaster.

taglist: @sol3chu @hwanchaesong @manduhao @velvetkisscs

Jungwon

I felt a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance as I sat in the car, watching unfamiliar houses pass by. Moving to a new home meant leaving behind everything familiar, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Each house we passed seemed like a marker of the unknown. My parents assured me it was for the best—a new job for Dad, a fresh start for all of us—but I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The streets, the buildings, and even the trees looked different. Nothing felt right.

Then, through the car window, I saw a girl around my age sitting in front of a small house. Our eyes met for a split second before I quickly looked away, feeling a flush of discomfort. She seemed to hold my gaze longer than necessary, making me even more uneasy.

As the car parked in front of our new house, my heart sank. This was it. Our new beginning. My mother’s cheerful welcome and the sight of the moving van were supposed to reassure me, but the knot in my stomach tightened. I missed our old home, my friends, and the familiarity of it all.

The next day, my apprehension lingered. I stood by the window, noticing the house across from ours—a smaller, less impressive home. I wondered who lived there. Then the doorbell rang, interrupting my thoughts. My mom called me to meet someone. Reluctantly, I obeyed, dragging my feet as I approached the door.

Standing there was the girl I had seen the day before, holding a plate of rice cakes. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

“So, this lovely girl gave us rice cakes because we moved in. Please get to know her. I’m sure you two will be great friends,” my mother said with a big smile, pushing me gently towards her.

“Wait, Mom—” I protested, but it was too late. She left me alone with the girl. I furrowed my eyebrows, feeling even more apprehensive about the situation.

“Hi! My name is Park Y/n. Nice to meet you,” the girl greeted cheerfully, her smile widening.

Huh... So that’s her name. A weird name for a weird girl. I quickly glanced at Y/n’s face, hoping not to meet her gaze, but couldn’t help but notice her cheerful smile.

“I’m Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you too,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say or where to look.

Her presence made me feel uncomfortable.

“Come on! Let’s play,” she giggled and grabbed my arm to drag me outside, oblivious to my resistance.

I attempted to resist, but her grip was firm, and I found myself being dragged along against my will. She pulled me into the front yard. I tried to stop her, and in the process, I ended up grabbing her hand.

We both stopped in our tracks. She looked directly at my face, her eyes wide with curiosity. Why am I still holding hands with this weird girl? I wanted to run back inside the house, go to my room, and lock myself there.

So I did what every 8-year-old kid would do. I ran.

Y/n

As I sat on the grass of my front lawn, I noticed a car passing by, and my eyes locked onto a boy inside. Even from afar, I could tell he was very handsome. When he looked away immediately, I giggled. He seemed shy. It was cute.

The car was parked in front of the big house across the street. Oh... So this means I get to see the boy frequently since we’re neighbors, apparently. My mind raced with possibilities of friendship, and maybe more, just like in the fairy tales.

The next day, my mom asked me to bring rice cakes she made for the Yangs to welcome them. Of course, I was happy—this meant I’d get to see the boy again and maybe even talk to him. I quickly ran towards the big house, pressing the doorbell, only for me to meet a lady. I assumed that this was Mrs. Yang.

"Hello Mrs. Yang, my name is Park Y/n, and I want to give this rice cake to welcome you all for moving here." I smiled gently and handed her the rice cake.

She accepted it and returned the smile. "Oh, you sweet girl. Thank you for this. I love rice cakes. How old are you, sweetie?"

"I’m 8 years old, Mrs. Yang," I said.

She gasped. "Oh, really? My son is also 8 years old. Wait, hold on—Jungwon? Jungwon?" She looked to the side, calling and waving at someone to come. Is that the boy? Am I finally going to meet the boy up close?

Then, there he was. Wow... I was right. He is very handsome, like a prince from a movie.

"So, this lovely girl gave us rice cakes because we moved in. Please get to know her. I’m sure you two will be great friends,” Mrs. Yang said, giving him a big smile before heading inside with the rice cake in her hands.

"Hi! My name is Park Y/n. Nice to meet you," I said, my smile widening even more. There he was, right in front of me.

"I’m Yang Jungwon. Nice to meet you too," he muttered. But even though he spoke quietly, I felt my ears heat up. His voice was very cute and unique.

He seemed shy, so I wanted to help him come out of his shell. "Come on! Let’s play," I said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward their yard. He seemed to be playing hard to get.

And then our hands were holding each other. I swear he had the softest hands I’ve ever touched. I looked into his eyes—those cute, boba eyes. Is this it? Will I be getting my first kiss? My first true love kiss, just like the princesses in the movies?

But then he ran. He must be really shy.

Jungwon

Grade school was a nightmare, thanks to Y/n. She always followed me around, earning me endless teasing from the other kids. They called me “her prince” because she insisted on it, making my life miserable. I couldn’t stand it. Everything about her was annoying, from her constant attention to that stupid song they would sing: “Jungwon and Y/n were sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

So, I made a plan this time around. High school was my chance for a fresh start. I decided to ask Hyein, the most popular student, out on a date. I figured if Y/n saw me with someone else, she’d finally leave me alone. To my surprise, it worked. For weeks, she kept her distance.

However, I could always feel her glare whenever I was with Hyein. It sent chills down my spine. My victory was short-lived, though. My supposed best friend, Jay, betrayed me by telling Hyein I was using her to get away from Y/n. That jerk.

Hyein dumped me, and things quickly went back to the way they were before. Y/n resumed her relentless pursuit, much to my dismay.

One morning, I heard her high-pitched voice behind me: “Hi, Jungwon! ”

I felt a wave of annoyance wash over me as soon as I heard her voice. I let out a long sigh internally, preparing myself for the upcoming interaction. With my back leaned against the lockers, I looked up, greeted by that cheerful expression on her face. Her eyes looked at me with such adoration that it was almost sickening.

“Hi, Y/N,” I responded with a mutter, masking my irritation.

“See you in class? ”She tilted her head.

I nodded without a hint of enthusiasm. “Mm-hmm.” My response was brief, bordering on rude. It was evident that I wasn’t willing to humor her any longer. Hopefully, she will finally understand the message.

She didn’t.

Instead, she smiled even brighter, seemingly oblivious to my indifference. She gave a small wave and bounced away, leaving me standing there in frustration.

I sighed again, turning to head to class. It looked like high school wasn’t going to be the fresh start I had hoped for. Instead, it was just a continuation of the same old annoyance, with Y/N at the center of it all.

Y/n

Grade school felt like a dream. I was always by Jungwon’s side, watching him grow. Sure, he acted annoyed, but I thought, deep down, he enjoyed having me around. That was until high school started, and everything changed.

The first day of high school was supposed to be exciting—a new chapter for both of us. I imagined us walking to class together, sitting next to each other during lunch, and maybe even studying together in the library. But all my dreams were shattered when I saw him with Hyein.

Hyein, with her perfect hair, perfect smile, and perfect everything. She was the most popular girl in school, and she had somehow set her sights on Jungwon. I couldn’t believe it when I saw them together. My heart ached as I watched them laugh and talk like they had known each other forever.

For weeks, I kept my distance. I didn’t want to be the annoying girl who couldn’t take a hint. I saw them everywhere—in the hallways, at lunch, even after school. Each time I saw Hyein with Jungwon, my chest tightened with jealousy. Why her? Why with my Jungwon? My prince? What did she have that I didn’t? I couldn’t understand why he chose her over me.

But then, finally after a few weeks, Hyein dumped him. It would mean things could go back to normal, that Jungwon and I could go back to the way we were.

One morning, I spotted him leaning against the lockers, lost in thought. I bound over to him, eager to start the day like before. “Hi, Jungwon! ”

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Hi, Y/n,” he responded, his tone lacking the usual warmth.

“See you in class? ”I asked, flashing him a bright smile.

He nodded, but his response lacked enthusiasm. “Mm-hmm.” There was a hint of irritation in his voice, but I brushed it off as him being tired or preoccupied with something else.

“Okay, see you then! ”I chirped, oblivious to the tension between us. I waved and skipped away, my mind already drifting to the day ahead.

Jungwon

Ever since we were little, Y/n had this strange obsession with the sycamore tree near the house. She would climb up to the highest branch that would support her weight and sit there for hours, reading a book or just watching the world go by. She called it her “thinking spot,” but to me, it was just a tree.

“Come on, Jungwon! Join me! ”She would call out every time she saw me, waving enthusiastically from her perch. I always had an excuse ready.

“Sorry, Y/n, I need to finish my homework,” I’d say, or “My mom needs help with something,” or simply, “Maybe next time.” I was convinced that the tree was just another one of her weird quirks, like her insistence on calling me her prince or her tendency to follow me around everywhere.

But the truth was, I was scared. Not of heights or falling, but of Y/n herself. Her relentless cheerfulness, her unwavering affection, and her ability to make me feel things I wasn’t ready to deal with. Being up there with her, away from everything and everyone, felt too intimate and too revealing.

One day, as I walked home from school, I saw her up in the tree again. She looked different, though—more pensive, more peaceful than usual. She spotted me and, for the first time in years, didn’t immediately call me out. Instead, she just watched me with a curious, almost wistful expression.

“Hey, Jungwon,” she finally said, her voice softer than usual. “You really should come up here sometime. The view is amazing. It’s like you can see the whole world from up here.”

I paused, the usual excuses forming in my mind, but something in her tone made me hesitate. “Maybe another time,” I said, my voice lacking its usual conviction.

She just smiled—the usual smile. “Yeah, maybe.” She turned her gaze back to the horizon, leaving me to continue home with a strange, unsettled feeling.

The next day, I found myself in my room, staring out the window at the sycamore tree. Its branches swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled shadows on the lawn below. I sighed, feeling a pang of annoyance at the sight.

“Dad, can you believe how many leaves that tree sheds? ”I complained, turning to face him.

My father glanced up from his newspaper, raising an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you, Jungwon? That tree has been there for years.”

“I know, but it’s blocking the view from my room,” I insisted, frustration bubbling up inside me. “And the leaves—it’s like I have to rake them every other day.”

My father sighed, setting aside his newspaper. “Alright, I’ll handle it. Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

A few days later, I was walking home from school again when I noticed a commotion. A bunch of police officers were standing around, looking up at the sycamore tree. My heart sank as I got closer and saw Y/n perched high up in the branches, her face streaked with tears.

“You need to come down, miss,” one of the officers called up to her. “The tree is unsafe and needs to be cut down.”

Y/n shook her head vehemently, clutching the branch as if her life depended on it. “No! You can’t cut it down! This is my tree! You can’t take it away! ”

I stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Y/n’s eyes found mine, pleading. “Jungwon, help me! Please, don’t let them cut it down! ”

I only watched in silence, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Y/n called out for my help, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Guilt and shame weighed heavily on my shoulders, paralyzing me.

Then, Mr. Park, Y/n’s father, emerged from their house. He walked over to the tree, looking up at his daughter with a mix of sorrow and determination. “Y/n, come down. Please, sweetheart.”

Y/n’s resolve crumbled at her father’s gentle voice. Slowly, she climbed down, tears streaming down her face. As soon as she reached the ground, Mr. Park wrapped his arms around her and guided her back to their small home. She sobbed into his shoulder, her whole body shaking with grief.

I stood there, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. Watching her cry, I realized just how much that tree meant to her and how much she needed it. And in that moment, I felt like I had let her down in the worst way possible.

Y/n

Ever since I was little, the sycamore tree has been my sanctuary. I would climb up to the highest branch that could support my weight and sit there for hours, feeling the gentle sway of the tree and looking out at the world below. Up there, I felt at peace. The worries and stresses of life seemed to melt away, leaving me with a sense of calm and clarity.

I often dreamt of sitting on that branch with Jungwon beside me, showing him the view that brought me so much comfort. I imagined us sharing that special space, watching the sunset together, feeling the breeze. I believed that if he saw what I saw, he might understand why the tree was so important to me. But Jungwon always had an excuse—homework, helping his mom, or simply “next time.” I told myself he was just shy, still waiting for the perfect moment to join me.

One day, I felt especially at peace, perched on my favorite branch, thinking about everything and nothing. The view was breathtaking, with the sky painted with hues of orange and pink as the sun set. I smiled, imagining Jungwon sitting next to me, finally sharing this moment. I felt so content and in tune with the world around me.

Days later, everything changed. I was back in my tree, savoring the tranquility, when a bunch of police officers appeared below, calling up to me.

“You need to come down, miss,” one of them said. “The tree is unsafe and needs to be cut down.”

I felt a surge of panic and devastation. “No! You can’t cut it down! This is my tree! You can’t take it away! Why are you doing this? ”I clung to the branch, tears streaming down my face.

I spotted Jungwon in the crowd, and my heart ached with desperation. “Jungwon, help me! Please, don’t let them cut it down! ”But he just stood there, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. He didn’t move and didn’t say anything. I felt a crushing sense of betrayal and helplessness.

Then I heard my father’s voice, gentle and soothing. “Y/n, come down. Please, sweetheart.” His words broke through my resolve, and I slowly climbed down, my tears blurring my vision.

As soon as I reached the ground, my father wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. The sycamore tree had been like a close friend, a source of comfort and peace. Losing it felt like losing a part of myself.

My father guided me back to our small home, still holding me. As we entered the house, my mother joined us, wrapping her arms around me too. Their embrace provided some solace, but the pain of losing my beloved tree lingered.

I felt a hollow ache inside—a sense of loss that words couldn’t fully capture. The sycamore tree had been my refuge, my escape, and now it was gone. As I stood there, enveloped in my parents’ arms, I couldn’t help but wonder if Jungwon would ever understand what that tree had meant to me.

Jungwon

The guilt gnawed at me like a relentless beast, driving me to take action. I couldn’t bear the thought of Y/n hating me or of her feeling betrayed by my actions. So, the next day, I mustered up the courage to visit her house.

As I approached the familiar front door, my heart pounded in my chest. What if Y/n refused to see me? What if her parents turned me away?

But to my surprise, when I rang the doorbell, it was Y/n’s parents who greeted me warmly. They invited me inside; their expressions were kind but tinged with sadness.

“Jungwon, what a surprise,” Mrs. Park said, her voice gentle. “Please, come in.”

I followed them into the living room, feeling a knot form in my stomach. This was it—the moment of truth. I had to apologize to make things right with Y/n and her family.

“Mr. and Mrs. Park, I… I need to apologize,” I began, my voice trembling slightly. “I… I was the one who complained about the tree. I never meant for it to go this far. I never wanted to hurt Y/n.”

Mr. and Mrs. Park exchanged a glance, their expressions softening. “Jungwon, we appreciate your honesty,” Mr. Park said, his voice filled with understanding. “But you should know that Y/n is…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door to the living room burst open, and there stood Y/n, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

I froze, feeling a lump form in my throat. This was it—the moment of truth. Y/n had heard everything, and now I had to face the consequences of my actions.

“Y/n, I…” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and without a word, she turned and ran out of the house, leaving me standing there, feeling more helpless and ashamed than ever before.

Without thinking, I chased after her, calling out her name and pleading for her to stop and listen to me. But she didn’t slow down; she didn’t even glance back at me.

I finally caught up to her, panting and out of breath, but she refused to meet my gaze. Her eyes, usually warm and affectionate, were now cold and distant, filled with hurt and betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” I begged, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

She turned to face me, her voice trembling with emotion. “Why, Jungwon? Why did you let them take it away? You knew how much that tree meant to me.”

I stood there, speechless. I didn’t have any excuses other than the fact that I was a total asshole.

But she pulled away, her expression hardening even further. “You’ve already done enough,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone.”

With those words ringing in my ears, I watched helplessly as she turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance. I had messed up in the worst way possible. And as I stood there, feeling the weight of my actions bearing down on me, I knew that earning back her forgiveness would be the hardest thing I had ever done. But I was determined to try, no matter what it took.

Y/n

I retreated to my room, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on me like a heavy burden. Sitting on my bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss and betrayal. My sanctuary, my haven, had been torn away from me, and I didn’t know how to cope with the emptiness that filled the space inside me.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I heard voices downstairs. Curiosity piqued, and I quietly made my way to the staircase, listening to the conversation unfolding below.

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Park,” Jungwon’s voice drifted up to me. “I never meant for things to go this far. I didn’t realize…”

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening the wound of betrayal that still festered inside me. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I leaned against the railing, struggling to process the pain.

And then, I saw him. Jungwon stood in the living room, his expression filled with remorse and regret. Our eyes met, and for a brief moment, I hoped to see a flicker of understanding, of apology. But all I saw was guilt, mingled with something else—something I couldn’t quite decipher.

Without a word, I turned and ran, fleeing from the house and the pain that threatened to consume me. I heard Jungwon’s footsteps behind me, calling out my name, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. His betrayal cut deeper than I had ever imagined, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

When he finally caught up to me, I turned to face him, my eyes filled with hurt and anger. “Why, Jungwon? Why did you let them take it away? You knew how much that tree meant to me.”

But he had no answer, no words of comfort or explanation. He just stood there, his gaze filled with guilt and regret. And in that moment, I realized that the boy I had trusted, the boy I had admired, had betrayed me in the worst possible way.

“You’ve already done enough,” I said, my voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone.”

Feeling more hurt and betrayed than ever before, I turned and walked away, leaving Jungwon behind. I couldn’t bear to be near him, and I couldn’t bear to see the remorse in his eyes. His betrayal had shattered something inside me—something I wasn’t sure could ever be repaired. And as I walked away, I vowed to protect my heart from further pain, even if it meant shutting out the boy who had once meant so much to me.

Jungwon

It had been a year since that fateful day when everything changed. A year of silence, of longing, of heartache. Y/n had been avoiding me like the plague, ignoring my calls, my texts, and my attempts to talk to her at school. It hurt more than I ever thought possible.

At first, I was angry. I was angry at myself for letting things spiral out of control and for not realizing sooner what she meant to me. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, that anger melted away, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake.

I missed her more than I could put into words. I missed her smile, her laugh, and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved. I missed the way she made me feel alive, like anything was possible as long as she was by my side.

But it wasn’t until she was gone—truly gone—that I realized just how much I loved her. It hit me like a ton of bricks, knocking the breath out of me and leaving me gasping for air. I was in love with her, utterly and completely, in a way I had never felt before.

It started from the moment I first saw her, all those years ago, when our eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was something about her—something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. And even now, after all this time, that feeling hasn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown stronger and more intense until it consumed every part of me.

I knew I had to do something, anything, to make things right with her. I couldn’t let her slip away, not without a fight. But the thought of facing her, of seeing the pain and hurt in her eyes, filled me with a sense of dread. I hated when she cried. It hurts for me to see her pretty eyes filled with tears.

But I had to try. I had to find a way to make her see how much she meant to me and how sorry I was for everything that had happened. And maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for us to find our way back to each other.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I approached Y/n in the school hallway. She was standing by her locker, her back turned to me as she fiddled with the lock.

“Y/n,” I called out tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper.

She stiffened at the sound of my voice but didn’t turn around. I took a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I... I need to talk to you,” I continued, my voice shaking slightly.

Still, she didn’t respond; her silence spoke volumes. I reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away from my touch, as if my mere presence repulsed her.

“I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be,” I said, my voice filled with remorse. “But please, just hear me out.”

Finally, she turned to face me, her eyes cold and guarded. “What could you possibly have to say that I haven’t already heard? ”She snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I winced at her words, feeling the sting of her anger like a physical blow. But I refused to back down, not when I had come this far.

“I know I messed up, Y/n. I know I hurt you, and I’m so, so sorry,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I love you, Y/n. I always have, and I always will.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe even hope. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a steely resolve.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jungwon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You had your chance, and you blew it.”

With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, feeling more defeated than ever.

Y/n

Every time Jungwon approached me, it felt like a knife twisting in my heart. His presence stirred up a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, longing—all swirling together in a tangled mess. I wanted to ignore him, to shut him out completely, but a part of me couldn't help but listen when he spoke.

When he finally mustered the courage to say those three words—“I love you”—it caught me off guard. It was something I never expected to hear from him, something that felt foreign and unfamiliar on his lips. And yet, there was a sincerity in his voice—a vulnerability that tugged at my heartstrings.

Part of me wanted to forgive him, to let go of the hurt and anger that had consumed me for so long. But another part—the part that had been wounded and betrayed—was hesitant, guarded, afraid to let him back in, afraid to be hurt again.

As I walked away from him, his words echoing in my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered within me. Was it possible to forgive and forget, to move past the pain and start anew? Or was it better to guard my heart, to protect myself from further hurt, even if it meant shutting out the one person who had once meant everything to me?

I didn’t have the answers yet.

Jungwon

It was just another school day, but my mind was consumed by thoughts of her. Y/n. She was like a magnet, drawing my gaze whenever she entered the room. Even during class, I found myself stealing glances at her, unable to tear my eyes away.

As I sat at a table during lunchtime, lost in my thoughts, Hyein appeared in front of me, her voice a distant murmur. I couldn't even make out what she was saying; my attention was completely fixated on Y/n.

And then I saw her, sitting next to some boy I didn't even know. Who was he? What was his relationship with her? Questions raced through my mind, jealousy gnawing at my insides. That is my princess, my Y/n. Why was she sitting there, laughing and looking so beautiful, but with someone else? Someone who is not me.

I didn't even realize that Hyein had been calling my name until she waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my reverie. "Jungwon, are you even listening to me?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from Y/n reluctantly. "Uh, sorry, what were you saying?" I mumbled, my mind still lingering on the sight of Y/n with that unknown boy.

Hyein rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Jungwon."

But I barely heard her words, my attention already drifting back to Y/n, the girl who occupied every corner of my mind and heart.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of Y/n laughing with that boy, her eyes sparkling in a way I hadn’t seen in so long, made something snap inside me. I stood up abruptly, ignoring Hyein’s startled look and the noise of the cafeteria around me. My feet carried me towards Y/n with a single-minded determination.

“Jungwon, what are you doing? ”Hyein called after me, but her voice was drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I reached Y/n’s table, my eyes locked on hers. Without thinking, I grabbed her arm, pulling her up to face me. She looked at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion, but before she could say anything, I leaned in and was about to press my lips on hers.

For a fleeting moment, the world stopped. It was everything I had imagined and everything I had wanted. This is it. But then, just as quickly, it shattered. Y/n pulled away immediately, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

“Jungwon, no! ”She cried, her voice breaking as she wrenched herself free from my grip. She turned and ran, her movements a blur as she pushed through the crowd of students who had stopped to stare.

“Y/n, wait! ”I shouted, my voice desperate, but she didn’t stop. She ran out of the cafeteria, her steps echoing in the hallway.

I chased after her, calling her name, but she was too fast. By the time I reached the school’s entrance, she was already on her bike, pedaling away as if her life depended on it.

“Y/n, please! ”I yelled, but she didn’t look back. She rode off, disappearing down the street, leaving me standing there, breathless and alone.

Students around me were whispering, their eyes filled with shock and curiosity. I felt a wave of shame and regret wash over me, but it was too late. Y/n was gone, and I had no idea how to make things right. I fucked up again.

Y/n

I could feel Jungwon's eyes on me during class, burning a hole in the back of my head. It was uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting in my seat, trying to focus on anything but his relentless gaze. By the time lunch rolled around, I was relieved to escape the classroom.

In the cafeteria, I sat down with my tray, picking at my food. A boy I didn't know very well approached me, striking up a conversation. I didn't catch his name, but his presence was a welcome distraction. He noticed the gloom on my face and made an effort to cheer me up, telling jokes and funny stories. For the first time in months, I felt a genuine smile form on my lips. It felt good, like a brief reprieve from the constant ache in my chest.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jungwon approaching. There was a determined look on his face that sent a chill down my spine. Before I could react, he was at my side, grabbing my arm and pulling me up from my seat.

His face was leaning close to mine. I realized that I was about to be kissed.

For so long, that had been my biggest dream. I had imagined it countless times, like a scene from the movies where the prince kisses the princess, sealing their love with a perfect moment. But not like this. Not in the middle of the cafeteria, with everyone watching, and certainly not when I was still hurting so much.

“Jungwon, no! ”I cried, pulling away from him. I ran as fast as I could, pushing through the crowd of students who had stopped to stare. I could hear Jungwon calling my name, but I didn't stop. I burst out of the school, my legs carrying me to my bike. I jumped on it and pedaled furiously, the wind whipping past my face as tears blurred my vision.

I rode straight home, my mind a whirl of emotions. I felt the hot sting of betrayal and confusion, mingled with the remnants of a love I had once cherished. When I reached my house, I ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed, the sobs coming in waves as I buried my face in my pillow.

For days, I locked myself in my room, coming out only to eat. I couldn't face the world, let alone Jungwon. The pain of everything was still fresh, and I needed time to heal. One day, though, my dad knocked on my door.

“Sweetheart, can you come to the living room and look by the window? ”He asked gently.

‘’Why?-‘’

‘’Please sweet girl?’’ he pleased softly from the door.

Reluctantly, I got up and walked to the living room, pulling back the window blinds. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Jungwon outside, digging a hole in the lawn. Confusion washed over me. What was he doing?

But then, I saw it. I recognized it instantly from its leaves and the shape of its trunk. He is planting a sycamore tree. Without thinking, I walked outside, my heart pounding.

Jungwon

As I stood there looking at her, I couldn’t help but think back to the moment I first saw Y/n. We were just kids then, but even at that young age, something about her caught my attention. I remember sitting in the car and making eye contact with her. My heart ached at how beautiful she was and still is. She was and always would be my Y/n, my princess.

—————

Y/n approached Jungwon, her eyes filled with curiosity and a glimmer of hope. “Do you need some help? ”She asked softly.

He nodded, and they both kneeled down to plant the tree. As she patted the soil around the roots, she felt his hand on top of hers. She looked up and met his gaze—those cute boba eyes she loved so much.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the world around them fading away. Jungwon broke the silence first, his voice filled with emotion. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for everything. I want to make up for everything that I did, starting with the tree. I love you, my princess. I always have.”

A smile spread across her face, tears welling up in her eyes. “I love you too, my prince.”

He took a deep breath, hope flickering in his eyes. “Can I kiss you? ”

She nodded, and they both leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

It was everything she had ever dreamed of—the perfect moment that made all the pain and waiting worth it.

As they pulled away from the kiss, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the newly planted sycamore tree, as if the tree itself were celebrating their reunion. They both stood up, and Jungwon gently took Y/n's hand in his, leading her to the bench in her front yard. They sat down, still holding hands, their fingers interlaced.

"Remember when we were kids, and you always talked about sitting together in the tree?" Jungwon asked, his voice soft and full of nostalgia.

Y/n nodded, her eyes sparkling with memories. "I used to dream about sharing that view with you."

He squeezed her hand with a determined look in his eyes. "I want to create new memories with you, Y/n. Memories that make up for all the time we've lost. Can we start over together?"

She looked at him, feeling the sincerity in his words and seeing the love in his eyes. She then nodded as she smiled softly. "Let's start over."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, talking and laughing; their hearts were lit with the promise of a new beginning. As the sun began to set, they stood up and admired the sycamore tree, its young leaves glowing in the golden light.

"This tree will grow strong and tall, just like our love," Jungwon said, wrapping his arm around Y/n's shoulders.

She leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and happiness she hadn't felt in a long time. "And it will always remind us of today, the day we found our way back to each other."

As they stood there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, they knew that their future was bright, filled with love, hope, and countless new memories waiting to be made.

Y/n looked up at Jungwon, her heart swelling with affection. "Thank you for bringing the tree back. It means more than you know."

Jungwon smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I promise to never take you or anything you love for granted again. You are my everything, Y/n."

The sycamore tree stood as a symbol of their renewed love and commitment, growing stronger and more beautiful with time, just like their relationship.

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dixons-sunshine · 4 months ago

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Cravings | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Daryl Dixon wouldn’t consider himself a picky man. It was the end of the world. Good food was extremely hard to come by. You ate what you could and you didn’t refuse, or else you’d go to bed hungry. There was no in-between, and Daryl understood that more than most.

However, as Daryl watched you reach into the jar of pickles to eat the green vegetable with the homemade ice cream Carol had somehow managed to make for you, he was beginning to realize that there were some lines regarding food he straight up refused to cross.

“Ain’t no way the ice cream tastes good with them pickles,” Daryl voiced after a few minutes of simply observing you devour the odd food combination you had been craving for days at that point in time. “Ain’t no way in hell.”

You looked up from the book you were reading while relaxing in bed, your hand stilling its motion of rubbing your baby bump, your eyes locking with Daryl’s cerulean-coloured ones. You nearly snorted at the expression on his face. Never before had you seen him as grossed out quite like in that moment. “Don’t blame me for this. It’s what your kid wants, apparently.”

“S’disgustin’,” Daryl told you, a shudder rolling down his spine at the mere thought of what the odd food combination could possibly taste like.

“Says the guy that literally once ate a worm,” you reminded him with a playful smile. “And dog meat, if I remember correctly, which you absolutely devoured.”

“That was different. We were on the road and didn’t have nothin’ else to eat. We didn’t have a choice,” he retorted. “‘Sides, s’not like I paired the meat with cake or somethin’. I ate it as is, so it wasn’t nearly as disgustin’ as this.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Babe,” you laughed and popped another pickle into your mouth.

Daryl grimaced when you added a spoonful of ice cream to your mouth without even swallowing the pickle. When you simply sent him a smile, he chuckled and shook his head. “Ain’t gon’ argue with ya ‘cause I know there ain’t no point and I’d rather not piss ya off.”

You giggled at him. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” You looked down at the pickle jar and frowned when you saw that it was empty. You looked up at your partner and gave him your best puppy dog eyes. “Could you get me some more, please?”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah. Jus’ give me a minute. Need to do somethin’ real quick.” Daryl leaned forward and lowered his head to your bump, pressing a soft, tender kiss to it. “Yer makin’ yer mama real crazy, lil’ one. Messin’ with her brain, makin’ her believe that she’s got somethin’ delicious goin’ on here. M’beggin’ ya to make her stop. She’s killin’ me with these weird cravings’a hers.”

You laughed and gently pushed him away, eliciting a small, fond chuckle from the archer. “My brain’s just fine, thank you. Now I believe I was promised more pickles.” You grabbed your empty bowl and held it up for him. “And possibly more ice cream?”

Daryl shook his head with a smile and took the bowl, getting up from the bed. “Yer lucky m’so damn fond’a ya, woman,” he mused while heading towards the door.

“I love you,” you laughed and picked up your book again, getting comfortable against the pillows.

“Yeah, I love ya, too.”

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literaila · 8 months ago

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How would gojo propose? Would he be serious or would he lock in and ask 👁️👁️

there is not one single proposal. oh no.

it’s starts off fairly simple—

“you have to fold it at an angle so that it doesn’t bunch up when you—“ you glance at satoru out of the side of your eye, sighing. “are you even listening to me, satoru?”

“marry me.”

and you drop the sheet in your hands. you turn to him, eyes as wide as can be. “excuse me?”

“marry me?” he’s smiling at you, leaning down so that you’re eye to eye. “please?”

you blink at him. staring for just a moment. the laugh that falls out of your mouth next is nothing short of bewildered, disbelieving. “i can’t—“ you scoff, returning to your sheet which satoru is supposed to be learning how to fold. “no, thank you.”

he pouts. “no? why not?”

you laugh again, kissing his cheek. “nice try, baby.”

and then he stands there with his arms crossed, just staring at you for almost an hour.

or maybe it’s date night and you’re just walking down the street, and satoru points out a lantern that’s bouncing colors off of the wall, a rainbow of light on both of your faces.

and you’re walking arm in arm, just looking at each other.

“marry me,” satoru whispers, his voice lithe and warm, something tangible.

you’re already smiling at him, so you don’t stop. “are you flirting with me?”

“c’mon, just one little marriage. i’ll even buy you a cake. and a ring.”

“wow. that’s a temping offer.”

“marry me?” he repeats, stopping you so that you’re just looking at him.

looking at the light in his eyes, and the colors on his face, turning his skin all sorts of magic.

“i’m think i’m going to pass.”

he groans, almost falling into you. “why not?”

“that’s just too easy, satoru,” you say, kissing his cheek, and then you drag him along as you resume your walk.

the colors fade, and so does satoru’s dejection. your smile is too contagious for him to keep up the act for long.

but then it molds into something else—far more desperate.

you’ll just be opening the fridge, looking inside.

“did tsumiki already pack her lunch?” you’ll ask him.

and satoru will nod. “yes. marry me.”

you just roll your eyes, shutting the door.

or you’ll be in the shower and satoru knocks on the door, peeking a head in. “what time will you be ready?” he asks.

“half an hour?”

“okay…” there’s a pause.

“satoru?” you ask, when you don’t hear the door shut.

“marry me?”

you scoff. “go check on megumi.”

or you’ll be in the store and satoru will put another carton of ice cream in the cart, which you scold him for.

“put it back.”

“only if you marry me.”

“i want you to redact that sentence in the next three seconds—“

or you’ll be exorcising a curse, just finishing up, still panting when you get a phone call. “satoru?”

“marry me.”

“do you actually need something? i’m kind of busy.”

“yes. marry me.”

“i’m hanging up.”

and this goes on for months. it will spread into a year, and at some point you stop feeling guilty for rejecting him every time, and satoru stops looking sad each time you do.

it’s like a habit, some weird tradition the two of you have. you come to anticipate it. appreciate it for what it is—easy, something ridiculous.

megumi personally hates it. “she already said no,” he’ll grunt at satoru, passing him through the door. “just get over it.”

tsumiki just sits there, waiting expectantly every time like the answer will be different. but it never is.

and then there’s one day. you’re both at jujutsu high, both working, and satoru just happens to be sitting on the steps of the entrance.

it’s been a long day for him. maybe something happened with one of his students, or maybe yaga said something just to get under his skin.

or maybe it’s just one of those days—the ones where memories cling to his skin like dirt.

it’s hard being here, sometimes.

and you’ve been looking for him for twenty minutes (because you always have lunch together) when you finally find him.

“hey,” you say, hand going to his shoulder as you approach. satoru doesn’t flinch because he heard you coming. “not hungry?”

he just shakes his head.

and there’s something about him, sitting there with his legs spread out, chin resting on a hand, staring off into the distance like he’ll never be able to see far enough.

he looks like a boy, for just a moment. a boy you used to know well—a boy you fell in love with, almost a decade ago, now.

and you smile, but only a little. because it’s always been easy to be here with him, even when he’s this quiet, and even when his eyes are this haunted shade.

so you’ll sit there, sipping on some tea you brought out—a soda you brought satoru sitting between the two of you.

your thighs are just barely touching, hands inches away from each other. you could cozy up to him, remind him that everything is okay—somehow. but you won’t.

sometimes you just have to sit with it.

but eventually, you’ll start to get goosebumps for sitting outside for too long, and you can hear satoru sniffing as his nose runs.

so you sigh, looking to him. “satoru,” you whisper, voice lilted like you have a secret to share.

he looks over, face mercifully blank. “hmm?”

“will you marry me?”

and then satoru’s face stills. the air is calm, the wind shifting, and he turns right towards you.

it takes a couple of seconds, but his face is like the flash of a camera, sullen one moment, and lively the next.

his incoming smile is almost intoxicating.

“really?” he asks, almost breathless.

you laugh, moving over to him, finally wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your cold face into his neck. “next time you ask,” you tell him, “you better make it count.”

and satoru only smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

“okay,” he says.

#they really are just… so #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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sourbinnie · 1 year ago

Text

☆ regrets & replacements ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angstttt (is all i know how to do) ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> did he actually forget? or did someone make him forget? ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

a/n -> i'm gonna use the same name for the girl best friend and it's soohee, i'm sorry if that's your name babes. to the person who sent me this request, babe i'll try making a happy ending i promise (even if this is just so sad lmaooo)

maknae line

chan ✉

it wasn't weird to you that he wasn't the first person to say "happy birthday" to you that morning. he had always been busy especially in comeback season, you weren't mad, just a bit disappointed. the messages started flooding in as you looked at your phone trying to respond to everything. as the hours passed and no chan messages, no appearances at your front door and definitely no calls, you were starting to feel a bit uneasy.

you thought maybe he was planning a surprise? maybe you had to be more patient. or maybe he actually forgot and you were just waiting for nothing. either way the thoughts left your head as soon as you heard the phone ring and it was a video call from minho.

"happy birthday (y/n)!" the boys cheered and they even had a cake with them. it made you feel ten times better knowing they cared so much but it still made you wanna cry not seeing chan there, it just felt wrong. "i'm sorry we couldn't say this earlier, we were busy with practice and i'm sure your boyfriend will be there at any minute." minho said.

"i hope so, he still hasn't said anything." you responded and they all looked confused as hell. chan had been wanting everything to be perfect for your birthday day and him not saying anything was kinda weird to all of them. "did he say anything to you guys?"

"he left earlier because he said he got plans? i thought he would be right there when we called." felix said and now it was your turn to be confused. so if he wasn't here and he said he got plans? where was he? it just didn't make sense.

"i'm gonna text him right now to get his ass to your house." jisung said as he brought out his phone and texted as fast as he could. you could read the look on his face through the screen as he read the reply and it wasn't pleasing at all. "he's with soohee." jisung said and it was like everything stopped for a moment.

"you're not serious right now." seungmin said and you couldn't hear the boys go off anymore because it was now starting to make sense. you were never really good friends with soohee, you tried to but it was like she had another image for who she wanted to be with chan (probably herself). you decided to hang up because you couldn't really talk anymore, you were just shocked that she would go that low and that he would not care enough.

you wanted to go out and enjoy the rest of your birthday but it's like you were glued to the couch as the hours went by and eventually chan did get home. he looked at you and took in the scene, he wasn't sure what happened that you didn't text him all day like you usually do or that you didn't come by during practice. something had to be wrong for you to be acting like this right?

"baby? what's wrong? i missed you today." he said as he tried to sit down next to you but you got up and now he was starting to understand that he was the one who did you wrong. he still didn't know why though and the vague messages from the boys today weren't helping. he felt like he wasn't in on whatever was going on and it was starting to make him panic. "did i do something wrong? i have no idea what's happening."

"can i be alone today chris? i'm just not feeling too well." you expressed and that made him worry even more. you usually would talk it out if something like this happened but you were more silent than anything. you headed towards your shared room leaving a puzzled chan behind. that's when something popped up on his phone saying "(y/n)'s birthday, don't forget to pick up all the things you ordered!" and it fucking broke him completely.

not only he didn't say happy birthday to you, not only he forgot to pick up all the gifts, not only did he not organize everything he had planned for today. he spent the whole day with a person he knew you weren't fond of and not with you who had waited all day for him to do something. if he wasn't the worst boyfriend in the planet right now, he surely didn't know who it was.

minho ✉

it was no secret to you that minho forgot. you weren't really bothered by it since you weren't used to celebrating your birthday all that often but it made you kind of excited to do so this year. jisung decided to join you in organizing the event and when the day arrived, he said everything was set in place and of course told you happy birthday before anyone could do so.

"is minho hyung with you?" jisung asked over the phone as you tried to get ready. that question caught you off guard as you thought he told you he was going to be at the dorms.

"he's not in the dorms?" you asked now feeling a bit troubled and hoping for the answer you knew wouldn't arrive because if he was at the dorms, jisung wouldn't have asked in the first place.

"i was sure that he told me he would be at your house before the party." he responded but as you looked around, yeah minho wasn't anywhere to be found and now you were wondering if he would show up at all. anxiety kicked in and that was not pleasant to feel on your special day. "okay i can feel you panicking through the phone already, he might be my best friend but i'm kicking his ass for lying."

jisung hanged up all of the sudden and you tried to concentrate on your look. you knew everyone was gonna be there so you wanted to make a good impression but all that was going through your mind was "why would minho lie?" and "where was minho?". it troubled you so much that you had to call him to know what was going on.

"(y/n)? babe? i'm kinda busy right now." hearing his voice relieved you but you were still going back and forth in your head trying to figure out. maybe he was gonna surprise you? maybe he did really forget? or maybe he just didn't care? oh god all those questions.

"minho where are you?" you asked and waited for the dreaded response, you were already assuming the worst and you were right to do so when he responded.

"i'm at soohee's house. she had a bad date with a guy and she needed me here." he said as if it was all natural like he wasn't missing out on anything and that made you want to cry on the spot but you held back. it wasn't that he chose you over her, it was that she did this all the time and he wasn't realizing how she was using him. you wanted him to be here, to show you that he cared but his actions were speaking louder than anything.

"minho do me a favor and don't show up today." you said as you hung up, leaving a baffled minho on the other side of the line. what were you talking about? okay yes he lied about seeing his friend but it was because neither you or jisung liked her at all. he was just trying to be a good friend and he ended up being a bad one and also a terrible boyfriend in the process, how did that make any sense?

"who called?" soohee asked as she came back from getting all her makeup off after a long crying session.

"oh it was (y/n), they were pissed at me though and i have no idea why." he explained and that only made her chuckle which had him confused. what was funny about his significant other being mad at him? yeah there was nothing funny about it.

"probably because their dumb birthday party was today." she responded and it hit him like a bucket of cold water. he looked at the calendar on his phone and he wanted to actually punch a wall. he forgot his partner's birthday, he lied in the process and he chose someone else who was now showing her true colors before him over you. how the fuck would he make it up to you now?

changbin ✉

you were trying to process what was going on as you woke up and had a ton of messages but there was no changbin beside you. it was weird also how all of the texts you were getting started with "happy birthday" but the one changbin sent only said "i'm gonna be busy today, sorry that i left without a goodbye!" and it was okay, you didn't expect him to remember everything especially when he was buried with work.

well you thought it was work at least. you didn't expect it to be something else but every single one of the boys had told you to have a wonderful day and that they were sure changbin was gonna enjoy his day off with you. so it wasn't work and now you were left to think about the endless possibilities of where he could be.

"he left without a word?" yeonjun asked as he and wooyoung dropped by. they were some of changbin's closest friends but easily became yours as well as you hung out often with them. "but he told us he had big plans for today! where the fuck could he be?"

"i have no idea. i thought the boys would know but they even told me he asked for a day off to spend it with me." you said and you started to feel a little troubled. maybe something happened? he would tell you if something was happening though especially if it was an emergency.

"let's hope he's just planning the surprise." wooyoung said and you were hoping for that, that it was all just one big confusion and he didn't forget about you. you felt incredibly lonely when they left but they had hope that his friend would appear again and that "busy" meant he was gonna show up with a million flowers to make it up to you.

but time was passing by and no changbin appeared until midnight. he didn't expect for you to be awake at such an hour but he didn't question it as he looked at you, dry tears in your face as you sniffled. worry washed over his body as he sat down next to you and tried to get close but you wouldn't let him.

"darling? what happened?" changbin asked, feeling the tension all of the sudden. he wasn't gonna be a coward and run away from it though, if you were feeling down it was his duty to know what happened.

"wooyoung and yeonjun were here thinking that you might show up with gifts or a reservation. i thought the same for a minute but then you never showed up." you said choking on your tears and it made his heart break into pieces as he processed what was happening. his friends showed up, his bandmates probably said something too, hell even his family told him to not forget about today and what did he do? not remember his significant other's special day.

"i'm sorry (y/n). i spent all day with soohee because she needed me and i forgot to even look at the date, i had everything planned. i'm such a fucking idiot but let me make it up to you." he tried explaining but it was no use as you got up as your sobs got louder and everything he said was only making it worse. he knew that beyond you not having a good relationship with her that he chose her over you on a date that was important and that he was now too late.

"so not only did you forget. you chose to spend it with a person who clearly hates me and everything about our relationship. i think that says more about you than me, changbin." you said as you shook your head and walked to your shared room, only to close the door in the process startling him. he feared that this would be the end because there was no going back from this one.

hyunjin ✉

you knew something was off when hyunjin basically went silent mode. he left the house in the morning, not a trace of a goodbye kiss and less of a happy birthday. he didn't answer his phone calls and neither the texts messages that you were sending which was very odd on his part. he usually would spam you images or emojis but there was no sight of him.

you asked chan if hyunjin happened to be at the studio and he responded back immediately saying that he was supposed to be there for practice and still hasn't showed up. which okay you could understand him working on your birthday, you weren't insane like that but he usually got there on time. you decided to grab your things and head to the jyp building, you wanted to see him mostly. maybe he had forgotten your birthday and that was okay, you still had the rest of the day to celebrate it.

everyone as soon as they saw you said "happy birthday" or greeted you which was very nice. when you saw the boys you couldn't help but smile even if deep down inside you were freaking out. you could tell the vibe was off as well as you saw chan on his phone but you weren't shook out of your thoughts as felix talked to you.

"you shouldn't have to spend your birthday at a filthy dance studio with us. you should be celebrating!" he said as he hugged you and you returned the hug. maybe you did need this embrace after all because you were feeling a little down as hyunjin still didn't arrive.

"i just wanted to see him lix. i'm kinda worried but i'm hoping for the best." you mumbled and he nodded as he understood how you were feeling and why you weren't acting like yourself.

"he says he's coming over here, thank god." chan said and that made you smile a little but then remembered he did not pick up any of your calls yet he picked up when chan called him. maybe he was busy before? well he could've still responded to you a bit later right?

you sat down next to seungmin as he saw how you were feeling and wanted to distract you from it. it was working until everyone saw hyunjin walk in with soohee and that was the answer to all your troubles even if it brought a storm towards you and what was going to happen.

"baby? what are you doing here?" he asked with a confused look on his face and could immediately pick up the tension in the room as the boys were glaring at him and you just looked so sad.

"oh god are you seriously looking like that because he didn't say happy birthday? how old are you?" soohee spoke and hyunjin closed his eyes as he let it sink in. he knew you two weren't in terms and this only made it worse didn't it? he left without a trace, he didn't respond to anything on his phone and he was now walking in with her as she spoke to you in such a hateful way.

"i'm just gonna go. i'm sorry for interrupting the practice guys and hyunjin, please don't come by my apartment." you said as the tears rolled down your face and you left as fast as you could. hyunjin wanted to go after you but felix stopped him because you needed to be alone for now to heal. the knot in his throat getting tighter as he thought about how he would redeem this after he fucked up so badly.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz angst #skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #chan x reader #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #minho x reader #stray kids drabbles #skz drabbles

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ckret2 · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 59 of human Bill Cipher possibly not being the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he got executed two chapters ago:

Everything you haven't wondered about how Bill survived his execution.

7:27 a.m.

Mabel didn't know why, but figuring out when to ask Mrs. Grendinator to pull over had felt as stressful as trying to throw a ping pong ball into a passing car's open fuel door to land in the little fuel pipe. All she had to do was ask to pull over after they'd passed everything but the last truck stop, but before it was too late for Mrs. Grendinator to make the turn into the Triple Digit parking lot. That was a large window. It wasn't easy to miss. Somehow Mabel still dreaded that she'd speak up too late and Mrs. Grendinator would say she'd have to wait for the next rest stop—by which point Bill would have splatted like a bug against the weirdness barrier while everyone else passed safely through.

But she'd managed to blurt out "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"; they'd stopped at the Triple Digit Truck Stop; and Mabel made it inside before her friends could catch her.

She locked the unisex restroom door, set her backpack on the ground, opened it up, and sighed with relief when she saw Bill sitting on her sweater. She carefully pulled him out, set him on the floor, and pointed the height-altering flashlight at him.

For a moment after returning to his true size, he remained seated on the floor, legs bent, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Worriedly, Mabel asked, "You okay?"

"Think I learned what motion sickness is," Bill groaned. "Just—gimme a sec."

"Aww, I'm sorry." Mabel surreptitiously checked in her backpack to make sure Bill hadn't been sick on her sweater. (It was a cool one. It had kissing parrots.)

After a few deep breaths, Bill lifted his head enough to look at Mabel. The first thing he said was, "'Cool big brother-slash-sister,' huh?" He gave her a queasy, but cheeky, grin.

"Shut uuup you weren't supposed to hear that!" She'd just about died with embarrassment when Candy had repeated that where she knew Bill could hear.

"I'm flattered." Bill uncurled himself from his nauseous half-fetal position; and then, gripping onto the sink for support, got back to his feet. "Being smaller again was nice, but I'm never traveling like that again."

"You're such a whiner."

"Yeah, yeah. I have a lot to whine about. I'm dead and about to be executed. Talk about... lose your cake and... not-eat it, too."

Mabel laughed. Bill mussed her hair, grinning, and said, "Hey, you've got no room to laugh, you're the one with the not-setting-houses-on-fire bit."

"Arrrgh, don't remind me!" She pushed Bill to the side so she could use the mirror to straighten out her hair again.

"You did pretty well, though! I'd say that was some of the best acting I've ever seen out of you."

"You too! They definitely bought it," Mabel said. "Even Grunkle Stan was getting worried."

"Especially back in the kitchen, wow! That was really convincing." He paused. "Really, really convincing."

Something heavy hung in the air. Mabel focused on her hair in the mirror.

Bill said, "That bit in the kitchen about me 'depending' on you." He exaggerated the air quotes around the word, distancing himself from the concept. "It wasn't on our list."

"Yeah. It just kinda... seemed right. Improv." Mabel waved unenthusiastic jazz hands.

"It bothers you."

Mabel winced. "I mean... I'm not actually mad at you. But. I want to help, but I don't know what to do for..." She gestured at Bill. "The whole being dead on an alien planet issue."

"Believe it or not, the hoodie helps," Bill said. "Listening helps." But he couldn't meet her gaze; he was fiddling with his friendship bracelet instead. He had to know how heavy even just listening to him could be.

"I'm glad, but... I just... wish you had more friends you could talk to."

Bill nodded morosely. "So do I." It wasn't like he'd chosen to only have one friend, was it? Prisoners didn't get to make those kinds of decisions.

Mabel asked, "Do you really think I think you're just a summer fix-it project?"

"I... pfff... come on, I watched you spend all last summer handing out makeovers and dating advice. You've already done my makeup, taken me clothes shopping, and tried to pump me for info on what kinds of freaks I'm into."

(Mabel quietly filed away the fact that Bill referred to "freaks" as his preferred romantic targets.)

"That's how your summer was going to end," Bill said. "You tame the monster, go home triumphant, and don't worry about it anymore. Like how you patched up Broken Heart's love life and left him to sort out the consequences."

"No!" Mabel huffed, "I mean—maybe a little at the beginning, but... you're really my friend now, I'd hate it if I never saw you again. I don't give friendship bracelets to just anybody!"

Bill kind of thought she did; but he wasn't about to argue. "Well, I've only given one person a bracelet, and I meant it." (Even more now than when he'd originally made it.) "You're never getting rid of me now, star girl. You're stuck with me forever!"

Coming out of Bill Cipher, the promise should have filled her with dread. A month ago it would have filled her with dread. But Mabel just found it comforting. "Good."

(And Ford hadn't felt any dread when he'd sworn "until the end of time," either.)

Bill took off his backpack and rummaged through it. "Now let me make sure I can keep that promise."

He took out a map of the mountains and forest around Gravity Falls and spread it out on the floor for them to kneel in front of. "You know about the spaceship buried under town? When its ring cut through the mountain, a few chunks of the ship dislodged and were buried in one of the mountains. No human has ever found them before, not even your great uncle. That's where I'll hide."

"Are the chunks big enough to hide in?"

"Sure! There's one that'd serve as a decent studio apartment. Well—the cheapest studio apartment in Manhattan, maybe. But, hey, I don't have much furniture."

On the map, he showed Mabel a route to reach the base of the cliff, tracing it with his finger. She couldn't afford to take a map with the route marked; if the adults discovered Bill's escape and confiscated Mabel's possessions, a marked map would lead them straight to him. She'd just have to do her best to memorize the route he described. "When and if the coast is clear, you can come find me there."

"How do I get up the cliff?"

"Don't worry about that. You make it that far, I'll take care of the rest."

And that was all they could afford to discuss. Mabel couldn't hide in here for long. As Bill refolded the map (and Mabel was awed to learn he was the kind of person who could refold maps correctly on the first try), and he packed the map and the height-altering flashlight in his backpack, they each tried separately to figure out how to get around to saying goodbye.

"I uh... I know you're sticking your neck out for me, kid." (Bill wasn't used to this, wasn't used to people who didn't help him due to fear or duty or lies, wasn't used to people who still wanted to help him after they knew what he was really like.) "So, thanks—"

Mabel flung her arms around him. Her voice thick, she said, "I think your manners are getting better."

"Shut up, I've always known how to say thanks." It was gratitude that was new.

"Be safe out there," Mabel said. "Don't die, or else. Remember to eat. And drink water! And do laundry sometimes."

"All right, all right. You'll find me in better health than you left me. All the sunshine and fresh air this body can take."

"I'll miss you."

Keep it together, Cipher. He swallowed hard. "Have you ever heard the song 'We'll Meet Again'?"

"Uh-uh?"

"Old war song. Look it up once you're in Portland, when you aren't busy having synthesizers pumped in your ears."

"Is it about... how we'll meet again?"

"Yes, smartypants. Look it up anyway," Bill said. "I'll miss you too."

Mabel washed her face, left the restroom, and shut the door behind her; and Bill waited in the dark while everyone left.

####

7:45 a.m.

A woman with two children opened the unisex restroom door, and gasped in shock when she saw a human silhouette lurking in the dark, one eye shining.

"Hey, thanks, lady! Couldn't get the door for some reason." He breezed past her. "Careful, it sticks from the inside."

He grabbed an empty backpack for sale, and loaded it up with supplies, food, and drinks. (The good stuff, not the weak cider he got in the Mystery Shack. He was making margaritas tonight.) He headed up to the cash register... veered to a currently-unmanned register, stole a handful of loose change out of a tip jar, and timed his exit so he walked out just as a man walked in and kindly held the door for him.

####

7:55 a.m.

It was a fair walk from Triple Digit back to the cliffs around Gravity Falls. When Bill was a safe distance into the woods, he unzipped his first backpack, retrieved his flattened top hat, and popped it out; and then continued on, behatted and using his umbrella like a cane.

Even with no sleep, even just a couple of days after the worst hiking trip in history, even tired and sore from an hour of frenzied dancing, even carrying two full backpacks with one strap slung over each shoulder, even with the sky gloomy and overcast—this was the best he'd felt since Weirdmageddon.

His steps were sure, his body was unchained, and the future had opened up for him again.

####

8:00 a.m.

Mabel kept glancing out the window, back in the direction of Gravity Falls, waiting and waiting to see the light of some kind of killer laser cut through the sky.

Maybe the Quantum Destabilizer's beam just wasn't visible from this far. Maybe they'd decided to wait to execute Bill. Maybe they hadn't wasted their shot because they'd already discovered Bill and Mabel's ruse. Maybe the "enchantment" Bill had written hadn't done its job.

But if they had discovered Bill was missing, they would've called Mabel immediately, trying to find out what she'd done and where he'd gone.

Her phone sat hard and heavy and silent in her pocket.

The butterflies in her stomach didn't stop fluttering until long after they reached Portland.

####

10:30 a.m.

Plus or minus a few trees, the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff was just how Bill had remembered last seeing it millennia ago. The Trilazzx Betan proximity sensor that had been embedded in the cliff face since the ship crash was still there and still sensing, even after millions of years and a layer of stone had closed around it. He could see it behind the face of the cliff; and it could see him.

He took out the multi-tool pocket knife Dipper had "donated" to Bill's supplies, flipped out the blade, and carved his face in a tree far enough from the rendezvous point to avoid notice by anyone who found this spot, but near enough it could see anyone who showed up. He made it as accurate as he could—hat, bow, limbs, eyelashes. That would unfortunately make it easier for humans to identify the face if anyone happened to walk by, but his ability to connect to his other eyes was still weak, he needed as much of a boost as he could get. He licked the bark, leaving his saliva to connect the eye on the tree to him.

And then he returned to the rendezvous point at the base of the cliff, and, beneath the watchful eye of the proximity sensor, began digging in the dirt with his hands.

Beneath the soil, fortunately not buried too deep, was a stone shaped like a small tombstone with several symbols carved into its surface that superficially resembled common runes. Bill brushed the dirt off of his leggings and rubbed it out of the carved lines in the stone. It was lucky that today was overcast; it would make this thing a lot easier to control.

Bill took out the flashlight, removed the height-altering crystal, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the topmost rune.

The runes began glowing an eerie green.

The ground shuddered; and then a patch of ground five feet in diameter lifted up into the air, carrying Bill with it, tearing the grass at the edge of the circle, propelled by a long-forgotten enchanted stone platform concealed in the clump of dirt.

He rose to the gouge that the spaceship had carved into the mountain; and then he moved his flashlight's beam to another rune. The platform smoothly shifted to moving sideways, gliding beneath the ancient overhang. When he turned off the flashlight, the stone stopped glowing and gently settled to the ground. Bill stepped off, fished a spare shirt out of his backpack, and pulled it over the rune-covered stone so it couldn't take off if the sun came out. There was a reason this buried stone was the only platform of its kind left in the area outside of the deep mountain caverns: leave one outside on a sunny day where the light can hit its runes, and next thing you know it's zoomed out over the Pacific and is quickly rising toward space.

He surveyed the area. Every once in a while humans climbed up here just for the challenge of it, delightful little explorers they were; but he doubted anyone had been up here in decades. He stood in front of what was, to all appearances, a completely nondescript patch of stony ground; and he said, in heavily accented but intelligible Trilazzx Betan, "Let me in, you hunk of junk. Activate emergency crash protocols."

A fragment of ship deep beneath the ground stirred awake, registered the command, analyzed itself and concluded from the fact that it wasn't in space and was separated from 99% of the rest of itself that it had indeed crashed, and activated emergency crash protocols. In acknowledgment of the dire situation, it deactivated its usual authorized personnel list—there was no sense in waiting for the captain to approve new orders if the captain might be dead—accepted the command given by the unknown being above it, and opened its hatch.

Millions of years of solid stone groaned and buckled in protest at being moved; but Trilazzx Betan engineering was strong enough for the framework of a portal capable of ripping a hole between dimensions without being ripped apart itself. The stone yielded first. A hatch swung up, revealing a tilted chamber descending into the cliff.

Bill strolled confidently down the walkway. "Cancel distress signal. Disable life support's air filtering." The fragment of a ship beeped a warning, and Bill responded, "I'm aware of this planet's high oxygen content. You worry about your health, I'll worry about mine. Disable air filtering." The ship beeped a confirmation. "Reconnect to all external proximity sensors in range and display on screens one, two, and three." This broken part of the ship had once handled communications. It had a whole wall of screens. He wondered whether he could jury rig this thing to pick up human satellite TV. Nah, probably not worth the effort.

He slung off his backpacks and started unpacking.

####

12:04 p.m.

It was time.

Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He felt sick.

He was dead. In just a few seconds Ford would discover that Bill was gone—Dipper was sure he was gone, they hadn't heard a peep from the room, Mabel must've snuck him out or left him some escape route—and then Ford would know that someone had warned Bill and Mabel, and then Dipper was dead—

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy." Ford would never trust him again. Stan would be furious. They'd both be furious.

"You can go downstairs if you..."

"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it." Better to get it over with now than to hide downstairs and wait for it.

Stan nodded. "Good man." He wouldn't be so proud of Dipper in a moment.

Ford nodded, stood, opened the door—and Dipper buried his face in his hands again.

####

12:06 p.m.

Ford could see Bill up in the loft, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. Ford could shoot Bill in the back without him ever waking up.

He climbed into the loft. Bill lay curled up in a ball, a small as Ford had ever seen him.

But it only took a moment for Ford's eyes to adjust to the dark; and even in the dim light through the stained glass window, he could tell:

The shape in front of him wasn't human. Just lumpy clothes.

Ford whipped around, heart pounding, clutching the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case against his chest, searching for the real Bill lurking somewhere in the shadows. No sign of him. Ford had already looked on the floor level. Was he gone? How?

He was too dumbfounded to be outraged. He walked up to the dummy to pull it apart—

And saw the paper, folded in quarters, floating in the air above it. Four symbols in a cipher were written atop the paper. Ford recognized them: it was the alien alphabet of an interdimensional pidgin used as a written lingua franca throughout the Nightmare Realm and its bordering regions; it was so widespread that Ford had learned the alphabet before he ever left Earth.

The four letters read, "F O R D".

Ford plucked the paper out of the air and unfolded it.

Stanford–

I'll cut to the chase. I need your help. I don't want to die.

I'm banking on the hope that, in spite of everything you've said and done, part of you also doesn't want me to die.

You have a choice. You can walk out there, tell them I escaped, rally an angry mob, and comb everything under the weirdness barrier for me. This town's not that big and I'll need to eat eventually. We both know I can't hide forever.

Or you can tell them you finished the job. No one looks for me. No one knows but you and me.

I don't have rewards or deals to offer. You already know what I bring to the table. If that hasn't persuaded you to side with me by now, it never will. I'm not bargaining. I'm begging.

I'm asking you, as my friend, to help me survive.

Please.

· –·-– -–

Of course.

How dare he.

Had Bill planned this all along? Was this why he'd insisted he wanted to be Ford's friend? Was this why he'd saved his life? Maybe the entire rescue had been staged—the rescue, the performance of fear over a harmless phenomenon, the mental breakdown, all of it. For all Ford knew, maybe the accursed Axolotl was in on the scheme! How clairvoyant was Bill? Had he seen this moment coming?

But if he'd seen this moment coming, wouldn't it have been easier to just let Ford, his executioner-to-be, die? Ford and Dipper both, so Dipper wouldn't figure out how to synthesize NowUSeeitNowUDontium? If he'd saved them in spite of that, didn't that make it a sincere gesture?

But implication was clear: I've been a friend to you, now be one to me. A life for a life. There was nothing sincere in that. It was pure self interest.

(For just a couple of days, Ford really had thought it was sincere.)

But if the only reason Bill had saved Ford was to save himself—then why had Bill endangered his own life in the process?

With every thought Ford's paranoia pendulumed.

He should get Stan. Call the cops, confess who they'd been harboring for the past month, tell them everything, get a manhunt going before Bill could make it any further away. Even if he couldn't leave the weirdness barrier, there were probably hundreds of hidden hidey-holes Bill could dig himself into that humans had never seen—unexplored hallways in Crash Site Omega, uncharted caverns behind Trembley Falls where Bill didn't even need light to see. They could drag him back into the light, tie him up, aim the Quantum Destabilizer straight at him...

But. In spite of himself, he could still see Mabel's drawing hopefully reassigning Bill the role of a superhero. He could still see the crumpled drawing in his pocket—"I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!" He could still see Dipper tentatively asking whether they might need Bill someday. He could still see Bill playing teacher in the living room. And for a moment, for just a moment, Bill had been so good. He could be so good.

Why couldn't you have been this person?

Why can't you be this person?

What if he could be better? What if he could be decent? What if he could be a friend?

Ford didn't believe Bill was any better today than he had been the day he died. But—at some point, something had slowly turned over in Ford's mind. He believed that Bill could change. Not would change, not is changing, but could. And if Ford started a manhunt, Bill would never be a threat again—but he'd also never be better.

There was a point where the doubt and hope built up to a critical mass—when they became enough, just enough, to stay the trigger finger. Because once Ford fired on Bill, that was it. All chances were gone forever. It was over. If Bill was alive they could always try again to kill him later; but if Bill was dead, they could never try again to better him.

And for the first time in thirty years, Ford wanted Bill to be better more than he wanted Bill to be dead.

Ford looked at the dummy. Looked at the note.

And then he lay the note on the dummy, knelt by the edge of the loft, opened his case, and removed the Quantum Destabilizer.

####

12:09 p.m.

Ten minutes ago, Bill had been in the process of emptying out his backpacks and finding nooks and cubbies amongst the alien communication workstations where he could tuck his supplies, when he'd glanced out the open hatch and noticed the beforeimage of the shot lighting up the sky.

He'd come out of his shelter to watch the moment approach; but he hadn't quite believed it until it was in the present and actually happening. The blue-white beam of the Quantum Destabilizer—its one and only shot—screamed off into the sky.

"Well, what do you know," he murmured, standing at the edge of the cliff, hands on his hips, staring out in wonder over the town. "I really didn't think you'd do it."

Ford had saved his life.

Bill crossed his arms tight and tried to convince himself he didn't wonder why.

####

12:10 p.m.

Ford heard Dipper and Stan come into the bedroom and climb the ladder. He was seized by an urge to sweep away the ashes and the evidence of his trick before they could realize what he'd done.

"Grunkle Ford...?"

He forced himself to speak. "It's done."

"So... Bill is...?"

Ford suddenly realized: Dipper knew Bill wasn't in here. He must have warned Mabel, and Mabel had arranged for Bill to be alone in their room long enough to escape.

Which meant Dipper knew Bill was alive.

(Bill had written, "No one knows but you and me." Bill was covering for the kids.)

Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."

Which meant Dipper knew what Ford had done—and knew Ford knew what he had done.

Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.

####

12:25 p.m.

Bill sat cross-legged at the edge of the cliff and watched until the afterimage of the Quantum Destabilizer's shot had faded from the sky; and then he went inside his shelter, mixed the world's lamest margarita in a coffee mug, took it outside, sat again, and toasted toward the town and the Mystery Shack.

Here's to survival.

He sat outside until the gash the Quantum Destabilizer had cut in the clouds closed and it began to rain.

####

1:10 p.m.

Stan had come and gone a few minutes ago, and already Ford had forgotten everything he'd said, if he'd even registered it in the first place.

His fingers had itched until he'd finally had a moment to steal down to his study, retrieve Journal 5, and bring it up to the guest room; and now for over half an hour he'd been feverishly writing down every single thing he could remember learning about Bill over the last two days. The drawing of his homeworld. His lecture on biangles and psychic powers. How polygons inherited their sides. (Their royalty sounded nigh on Habsburgian; had their political system ever changed?) What little details Bill had let slip about where Edward Bishop Bishop's book was wrong. (Had he told Mabel more about their relationship? He'd have to ask when she was home.) How Bill signed his letter: "· -·-- --", Morse code for "EYM," was it an acronym, was it a code, what did it mean, why did he write it in two colors? How Bill spelled Mabel's name in alien alphabets: Mabelle, Maybell, the varying extra letters. How Bill danced: how he struggled to cross his ankles, how he turned out his feet, how his spine and shoulders never bent, how the complex ways he tilted his legs and pelvis compensated for his stiff spine.

If Bill was sticking around a while longer, then these details still mattered.

He refused to forget a thing.

####

Sunday, 12:02 a.m.

As "We'll Meet Again" finished playing, Mabel turned off her phone, put it back on her nightstand, and wiped her eyes again. Big stupid dork couldn't even say this himself, he had to hide it behind a song.

Yes. They would meet again. Law of attraction. Believing it was the first step to making it come true.

####

10:20 a.m.

The fearful butterflies in Mabel's stomach had slowly returned during the drive home from Portland. No one had texted her—was that a good sign?—but she was afraid it just meant they'd decided to let her enjoy the rest of her trip before letting her know she was grounded forever for helping Bill escape. When they'd all greeted her at the door, looking so somber, and she was sure she was about to get the bad news, she'd just had to keep acting normal and hope she wasn't gonna get in more trouble for playing dumb.

The last thing she expected Stan to say was, "Weshotim."

"Say wha?"

"We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."

Mabel stared at Stan. That was impossible—there was no way they'd found Bill. But—if Stan believed he was dead...

She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes—too afraid that even looking at her would give something away.

She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" She tried not to hope. "Is it true?"

There was no way he'd believed the dummy was real. The moment she'd read Bill's so-called "enchantment," she'd known making it believable was never the point. Bill's only real plan had always been to get Ford on their side.

For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."

Mabel's eyes widened. Two days ago, Ford had been the one arguing that killing Bill was their only choice. If he'd changed his mind...

If anyone said anything else, she didn't register it in her excitement. She backed out of the doorway, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack, looking for her bike.

She had to see Bill immediately.

####

10:21 a.m.

Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"

Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so."

He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.

####

2:30 p.m.

Bill was asleep. He'd been sleeping off and on for most of the past day. This was the first time since he'd died that he had somewhere safe to sleep—somewhere nobody could touch his vulnerable body, nobody could move him, drown him, kill him.

And this was the first time he hadn't been helpless and sightless.

In his sleep, he saw his own body, curled up on the tilted floor against a wall, on top of the sleeping bag and under the Pony Heist bedsheet, from an eye he'd drawn on the ceiling.

From another eye he'd drawn on the wall, he saw the ship's open hatch, the overhang above, a small sliver of the gray drizzly sky over Gravity Falls.

And from his eye on the tree, blurry and fading as the rain washed away his saliva, he saw a human-shaped mass of raucous colors exploring the pit in the ground left behind by his hovering platform.

A human? He sat up with a gasp and looked at the screen displaying the proximity sensors. Sure enough, the sensor at the base of the cliff was displaying a Mabel-shaped silhouette.

He grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of his shelter.

####

"Kid, what are you doing out out here?!"

Mabel looked up. Bill was some twenty feet above her and quickly descending on what looked like a chunk of flying dirt the same size as the pit in the ground she'd been inspecting. "Bill!" She leaned her bike against the cliff face. Finally—she'd been wandering around in the trees forever trying to figure out where Bill's rendezvous point was hidden.

"It's pouring rain," Bill scolded. "You could lose your immune system or—or slip in the mud or something."

"Wow, nice to see you too, mom." Mabel ran up as Bill landed his floating chunk of ground.

"Hey, I don't want anything happening to my favorite human!" He scooted over to make room for her on the platform. "Just couldn't wait for a sunny day to meet again, huh?"

"Psh, come on! Like you meant that literally." Near Bill, the rain had mysteriously stopped landing on Mabel. She looked up and saw the rain simply parting in the air over Bill's head.

He noticed her glance and said, "Did I ever teach you the spell to repel rain? Remind me to do that before you go." He pointed his flashlight's beam at a rune on a stone rising from the platform, and it lifted off again. "Nice sweater today." He poked one parrot-winged sleeve, its bright colors darkened by the soaking rain. "It probably looked better dry."

Mabel smacked away his hand. "Bill, guess what! Grunkle Ford decided to protect you!"

"I know, I saw the wasted shot from here." He steered the platform onto the cliff. He landed it next to a hatch that opened into a subterranean tunnel. "Of course, I always knew he would. Didn't I say we'd pull this off?"

Sure he'd known. That was why he'd lied about what the "enchanted" paper really was so Mabel wouldn't worry.

Mabel followed him down into the metal tunnel. "Do you know what this means? You can come back to the shack!"

Bill turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because... it's safe now? They're not gonna kill you?" Mabel squinted. "Why's it so dark in here?"

"Oh, right. You need this." Bill offered the flashlight.

Mabel turned it on. They were in a metal chamber, about half the size of the Mystery Shack's floor room and nowhere near as tall. One end of it had been torn off and dirt and stone served as the new wall. Most of the walls were dominated by heavy metal consoles, curved metal chairs, and screens, a few of which were on but flickered irritatingly. One chair still had a fossilized alien skeleton in it. Bill had put his top hat on it.

His supplies were piled haphazardly on consoles and the floor; all Mabel saw in his food pile was shelf-stable junk food and drinks. The air somehow felt more damp in here than it did outside with the rain. The chairs didn't have cushions, the floor didn't have carpet; everything was hard and cold and dark. She didn't even see a door for a bathroom in here. This was where Bill was staying?

"The Mystery Shack is safe for now," Bill said. "Just wait until Stanley decides to take another swing at me, or Dolores poisons my dinner again—or Ford changes his mind, dunks me in the bathtub, and doesn't let me back out."

"They wouldn't..." Mabel trailed off. She tried to imagine how mad Stan would be when he found out Bill was alive, and had to concede he might.

"Even if it was safe—why would I go back to that sorry makeshift prison?" Bill hopped up into one of the tilted alien chairs. There was a weird extended bit designed for alien anatomy that curved up at the end of the seat and forced Bill to straddle the chair rather than sit in it normally; it didn't look comfortable. "After almost a month and a half, I'm finally free!"

"Free inside a tiny bubble around the town," Mabel protested. "To live in a... weird little metal dirt room."

"Freely moving inside the entire barrier is a lot better than freely moving through half a shack! Surrounded by people who want me dead! I don't even get full privacy when I'm using the toilet—that's the bare minimum humans offer as basic respect! You don't know how many times I've been walked in on!"

"Do you even have a toilet here?"

Bill hesitated. "There's a—there are gas stations within walking distance."

"How are you gonna get into the restroom?"

"Fine, I'll dig a pit or something, all right? The point is, whatever I do, at least I can do it in freedom!"

He hadn't planned this through at all, Mabel realized. He'd only thought as far ahead as finding food and shelter that would last him the next couple of days. "But..." She gestured at the pathetic room around them. "The shack's got a proper roof and a shower and real food—wouldn't that be better than this?"

Bill scoffed "Only humans care about roofs and showers, and the idea of 'real' food is a social construct I reject!"

He'd be miserable here. Mabel couldn't let Bill do this to himself. "Then don't you wanna be in the shack with your only friend on Earth?" She gave him a pleading look. "Would you really rather spend the rest of summer in some dumb old busted alien ship?"

There was a flash of light reflected in the dark as Bill's eyes turned away from Mabel.

"Bill?"

He didn't respond. He trudged past her, halfway up the walkway out of the ship, and stopped there, his back to Mabel, hands on his hips, staring out into the rain. He sighed. "Kid, you're trying to give me Stockholm syndrome."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'll think about it," Bill said, voice flat. "Go back to the shack."

Before Mabel could move, Bill said, "Hold on. Let me teach you that umbrella spell first." He turned and descended back into the ship. "And when's the last time you ate? Human bodies act pathetic if they don't get glucose every three hours. Get some lunch, it's a long bike back to the shack." He gestured at his meager food supplies.

She rummaged through the foil bags and colorful boxes and grabbed some Chipackers and sour gummy dolphins.

Bill sat near her, grabbed a bag of jerky for himself, and said, "And tell me about that concert you abandoned me to my doom for."

####

4:00 p.m.

Bill escorted Mabel down off the cliff—and, at her request, let her borrow the flashlight and wiggle the floating platform back and forth a little as they descended. He took back the flashlight when she nearly crashed the platform and killed them both.

"Where'd this come from?" Mabel asked, poking the stone. "Did the aliens make this, too?"

"Nope! This is good old local Earth magic. Ever hear of Caterpillar Man?"

"Is that some kind of superhero?"

"Afraid not. Well—ever hear of Grendel?"

"Uh-uh."

They were nearly at the ground now. "I think I'll tell you next time."

As the platform lifted him back up, Bill watched Mabel wheel her bike through the trees, slowly heading toward the main road back into town.

For a midsummer day, it was chilly in the rain.

####

Monday, 1:03 a.m.

And it was even chillier in the post-midnight dark when he knocked on the Mystery Shack's door.

####

(Eager to hear what y'all think now that you've seen the full story of how Bill survived—last week once Dipper and Mabel's roles were revealed, I think most folks thought that fully explained how Bill faked his death. ;) Next week is probably a double length chapter, because there's no graceful way to break it in half and also it'd be nice to get this plot arc wrapped up before The Book of Bill comes out lmao.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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