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memoirofasparklemuff1n · 13 days ago

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I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER | PART 2

AN OBX SMAU

synopsis: the summer after graduating highschool was the dream. after years of tedious hours at school and of nonsensical drama, you are finally an adult, but most importantly? free. or so you thought. after a tragic incident the night of midsummers, the four of you decided to never, ever speak of it again. everything was going to be okay because only those present that night knew the truth, right?

pairing: exbf!jj x kook!reader; rafe x kook!reader

cw: guys, it’s a slasher story so gore & angst (troubled family relationships, violence, breakups, etc.) comes without saying. if you’re not comfortable with that then don’t read, i totally understand.

a/n: we're just going to pretend i posted this on may 23, ok? ok. because life update that absolutely nobody asked for at the end which is lwk a crash out (you don't have to read it lmao; it's not important lol) psa that english isn't my first language y'all so bear with me and i may or may not have proofread... i also queued this earlier so i am not posting in real time if that makes sense

anywayyyy, that's not important atm so drum rolls please!!!

PART TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WHO CHEERED? please bear with me, i was going THROUGH IT YALL BUT IM OK NOW (?)

I REALLY HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH I CANNOT BELIEVE that even one person is reading this let alone a HUNDRED OF YOU? AND BEING ASKED TO GET TAGGED???? i feel so cool. alright, i need to calm down, i'm an adult

i'm kinda making it up as i go so i guess incoherences might be here and there lol but...

we're so back

may 23, 2025

“ladies and gentlemen, this is the final boarding call for flight a1 234 with service from charleston to kildare. we are now inviting all remaining passengers to proceed to the gate for immediate boarding. please have your boarding passes and identification ready. once again, this is the final call for flight a1 234 to kildare. thank you for flying with us, and we wish you a pleasant journey.”

you took out your wired earphones with a sigh, before gathering your bags and heading towards the counter.

after waiting in line for 10 minutes and boarding the plane, you took your seat in first class. the flight attendant offered you a drink and a snack and you settled for a coke with pretzels.

the flight was supposed to take off at 9 but, of course, it was delayed, finally leaving at around 9:30. you put your earphones on again before leaning back on your seat and took a nap for the rest of the flight.

turbulence woke you up with a panic. your palms began sweating, before sitting up and glancing around with wide eyes.

an appeasing voice tore through the panicked whispers, “all passengers must remain in their seats as we land. these turbulences are normal, so please remain calm.”

easy for you to say.

cold sweat made your shirt stick to your back while you gripped the seat until you heard the pilot say that you had arrived at kildare safely.

thank god.

after wiping the sweat off your forehead, you took a deep breath before turning off the airplane mode on your phone.

you sighed when you saw your mother’s messages, re-reading yesterday’s conversation with a frown. this summer was going to be unbearable. and you didn’t even want to get started about the whispers and rumors that were bound to seep their way into your life.

but what definitely freaked you out the most was that message you had received from ‘unknown’ because this was not pretty little liars. you didn’t know what to do because for one, what were you supposed to say?

call the police and be like, “hey, me and my friends accidentally killed someone a year ago, and we got rid of the body. now someone is harassing me and sending me news articles that could possibly be linked with what we did. please, i need protection.”

be so fucking for real.

the passengers began to evacuate the plane, so you were at the airport for another tedious 15 minutes until you called your mother.

“hello?” your mother’s stern voice came through the line.

“hey, mom. i’m out front by the taxis.”

“alright, i’ll be right there.”

you hung up and put your phone away, pulling your suitcase along until you reached the curb where people were being dropped off and picked up. you suddenly saw a familiar blonde head, but before you could duck out of sight you made eye-contact with a girl you had once been as close as sisters.

sarah’s face turned shocked to overcome with uncertainty before it turned into something like regret and a bittersweet smile. she rushed over and threw her arms around you before you could process the whole situation. the scent of sunshine and salt air along with tropical fruits enveloped your senses. only sarah cameron could smell like sunshine and beaches, but there truly wasn’t another way to describe her.

you broke the hug first, only for her to set her hands on your arms with a small smile.

“it’s been so long since we last saw each other! i can’t believe it, i didn’t know you were coming back.” her warm brown eyes searched your face for answers, but you had long since learned how to not put your feelings on display. to anybody else you looked bored but inside? your mind was filled with racing thoughts and ways to escape the uncomfortable situation.

“yeah, i just finished my first year at unc.”

she let go of your arms and palmed her forehead, “of course! how was it?”

you grimaced, “not my finest moment but,” you shrugged. “at least that’s over with.”

sarah gave you a sympathetic smile before you heard her name being called out. you saw ward calling for her, the rest of her family probably already inside.

“i’ve gotta go, but it was really nice to see you. don’t be a stranger, ok?” she kissed your cheek goodbye and ran to the car before getting in.

a honk brought you out of your daze and you turned to see your mother’s red mustang making its way around the curb. with a sigh, you dragged your suitcase along and put it into the trunk before getting in the front alongside your mother.

your mother was wearing oversized sunglasses that she didn’t even bother to remove. she only gave you a tight smile and a quiet how are you?

“i’m ok, just tired from getting up early. and you?” your tone wasn’t exactly cold nor warm in an attempt to avoid an outburst from your mother.

once she was on the main road, she revved the engine until she was driving 60 miles per hour. “i am well, just worried about you, but i know that now is not the time to discuss this. which reminds me, we are going to have dinner with your grandparent’s monday night at ocean manor. we could go to pick out some clothes in the morning and grab lunch if you’d like.”

your heart squeezed at her words. you knew it was her way of extending an olive branch and if you fucked this up, this summer would be hell.

you plop down on your bed with a sigh, not even bothering to take off your shoes. instead, you kicked them off before turning to your side and looking out the window. from your room you could see the beach and tiny people riding the waves like dolls with their surfboard toys. as a kid you remembered thinking how bad you wanted to be like the cool kids of figure 8 and when you met sarah, well, your dream life had come true.

you remember your first day at kildare academy and how much of a movie-like scene it had been for you, having moved from your hometown at thirteen and being absolutely wrecked at leaving your friends behind. you’d made sure to enter the classroom just when class was about to begin so you could avoid the awkward gawking of the other students when they see a new, unidentified human. the thing about kildare was this: you were either a kook or a pogue but of course there were rankings among the kooks. kook royalty. which you learned the hard way. to them, by being a newcomer you were slightly above a pogue but not enough to be a full on kook. so, when you were assigned to kiara carrera as your lab partner for the rest of the school year, you hadn't realized that your social death sentence had been signed. everyone around you had snickered (apparently they knew something you didn't), a group of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen staring at you with a mix of curiosity and malice. you could tell the blonde girl with the caramel brown eyes with a fresh manicure, perfect hair and makeup along with an iron pressed uniform was the leader, the other two girls looking very much like karen smith and gretchen wieners.

kiara on the other hand… let’s just say she was, well, different. she had a pair of dirty converses, her uniform looked clean but not like she’d tried to make it presentable, chipped blue nails along with chunky bracelets and beachy jewelry. her hair had the prettiest curls you’d ever seen, two small braids framing her face which was adorned with a smile that made you feel like she knew something you didn’t.

seriously, everyone around here was incredibly good looking. did they put something in the water? it was hardly fair.

she peered over her shoulder your gaze landing on the group of girls that had caught your attention earlier, “i see you’ve met the plastics of figure 8.”

oh so it was obvious.

you let out a snort but caught yourself when the teacher looked at you with raised eyebrows. kiara was chuckling next to you, “seriously, on wednesdays they wear pink.” you giggled and for the first time since you arrived, you felt less lonely.

“so, what’s the deal with regina george?” your voice held a mocking tone, and you saw kiara’s eyes light up at your remark. soon after you became great friends and practically inseparable. you shared a lot with her, particularly feeling out of place when you didn’t belong to either side of the island. you could be considered a kook by wealth but not by their societal standards, which also summed kiara up perfectly. with her pogue father and kook mother she faced discrimination by her peers, but more so because of who she decided to spend her free time with and call her friends.

a certain blond came to mind, your heart sinking to your stomach and you sensed a crash out near the corner. your phone buzzed, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

your phone fell to the floor with a clatter when you clicked on the cursed link.

body found by local fishermen. you weren't even able to read the rest of the artcile, a cold shiver running down your spine before panic began to set in.

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

FUCK

you ran to your bathroom, barely making it to the toilet on time, all the remnants of your previous meal purged out of your body. if only you could expel your sins the same way you wouldn’t be so repulsed every time you looked at yourself in the mirror.

you finally got up when your phone began buzzing frantically from your room. holding yourself up against the wall, the edges of your vision turned a little blurry, shallow breaths ripping through your chest until you fell to your knees near your bed. gripping the edge, you managed to turn and sit with your back against the bed before reaching out for your phone.

great. now i have to see everyone at the goddamn club with their hypocritical questions filled with fake concern and kindness. i’m sure my mother has taken upon herself to uphold the image of her perfect daughter.

and to think that you were once one of them.

exactly. were. because they weren’t murderers like you.

you squeezed your eyes shut, covered your ears, and began rocking back and forth in an attempt to quiet down your racing thoughts, but they only got louder, until it felt like a thousand people were yelling at you, “murderer! murderer! murderer! murderer! murderer! murderer!”

would we like to see rafe in the next one ;lkdsfakjsdflka

he was supposed to kind of pop in, but @inthelibrarybtw told me that it was shit and i was like, just say you hate me. THAT'S NOT TRUE SHE WAS A SWEETHEART ILY BABY IM JOKING <33 THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME

no but i fixed it because what i had written WAS confusing. i forget you all can't read my mind THANK GOD. i don't know why i say that like it's a bad thing LMAOOOO

but idk how i feel about the kook academy part but my mind is so random sometimes that i relive memories in the most incoherent ways so that may show up in the way i write/protray the reader. i need to learn how to be more objective lol but BEAR WITH ME. this may or may not be a self insert 🫦

also THE VOICES LMAOOOOO

i've never heard voices that i know of because if i am crazy then i wouldn't know if everyone around me is a hallucination and this is all made up in my mind and i've concocted every single piece of my life in my head. but then i also remember my life wouldn't be this fucked up if i was making it up and i also am not creative enough to create this world in my brain. jesus fucking christ somebody shut me tf up.

*accepting rafe cameron applications to fuck me stupid.

WHAT? WHO SAID THAT?

anywayyyyy

my beautiful stars: @countryclubwhore (ily <3) @onlyangel-444 (one of the prettiest usernames i've seen) @papercranesandinkstains (my soulmate i fear) @inthelibrarybtw (loml fr) @cokewithcameron (angel) @jaes-last-words (<33) @rafesbabygirlx (in awe with your mind) @ethanthequeefqueen (laughed so hard at your username btw LMAOO) @7-deadly-cats-main (im obsessed with you; am also patiently (key word) awaiting on that rafe dream scene in kms 🫦 NOT ME HARASSING YOU LMAOO IM SORRY ILY) @ewwwitsel (sweet angel) @rockkybbys (i tagged u cuz you asked for another part but lemme know if you prefer not to be <333)

if you wanna be added let me knowww <333

i am also not over the fact that people actually like this, i know i've said this multiple times and i sound incredibly obnoxious but it's still true. i love each and every single one of you and don't be shy to talk to me PLEASEE i promise im a nonchalant, chill, cool girl (...) i might take a bit to respond because i read it and i think i answered in my head or i haven't seen it or genuinely forget or know it's there but because i have no concept of time i realize weeks have passed when i go to answer💀💀 BUT I AM HERE

unsolicited life update: i am ghosting all of my friends (which is really shitty i KNOW) and i'm not proud of it, i just get overwhelmed with so many texts that i procrastinate and then i end up going missing for weeks sometimes even a month soo DO NOT BE LIKE ME!!!! that is one of my biggest flaws and i really really need to do better because they don't deserve that at ALL; if it were the other way around i wouldn't put up with my ass. which i don't cuz like i would leave me if i could because it is EXHAUSTING. like omg, girl it's not that deep but wtv and lwk had a mini meltdown these past couple of days and may or may not have crashed out hehehehe

i will only say that i wish it had been for an interesting reason but no!! my brain just takes these executive decisions on its own because we're a bitch and she's the boss of me unfortunately :)

i also started this internship (?) for school credits at my local public defender's office and let's just say that i am beyond confused 95% of the time and i will complete my 1st week here tmrw. (yes i am supposed to be working as i write this, but shhh) i need to lock the fuck in.

xoxo,

gossip girl

how i felt after saying that (i've never touched a cigar/cigarette in my life) that's also the love of my life because this man awakened something in me at the ripe age of 13. what? who said that?

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gmasttin · 2 months ago

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Really Good, Actually | Kylian Mbappé

| Summary: A Madrid-based creative unexpectedly finds herself leading the rebranding of Kylian Mbappé. Between cold coffees, impossible deadlines, and tense creative sessions, something more than just a campaign begins to take shape. An ironic, intimate, and emotionally sharp story about the chaos of feeling alive just when you thought you were only surviving.

| Chapter 2 is already out!!

| 3.6k words

| A/n: I read the book “Really Good, Actually” by Monica Heisey and after binging a bunch of romcoms, I decided to finally start and post one. A lighthearted story, with some romcom vibes, that I’d actually been thinking about writing for quite a while. I hope you enjoy it, and sorry for any mistakes, it's the first one I've ever written and as it's obvious, English is not my first language. Enjoy <3.

Chapter 1

Back when life was simpler, and all you had to worry about were Tupperware containers, briefs, and whether you’d make it to the 7 p.m. Pilates class.

Some mornings, you wake up with this strange sense of clarity, like everything’s aligned. The coffee’s just right, the subway arrives on time, no one crushes your toes with a pair of impossible stilettos in their rushed way to their fancy offices.

This is not one of those mornings. You’re not sure if it’s because of the weird dream (the one where you’re marrying Louis, your ex, except he’s the one wearing that wedding dress you kept eyeing, and of course, his mother steals your spot at the altar), or because you ended up arguing with your own mother again, over text, at 12:47 a.m.

But something’s off.

You feel it in the way your toothbrush slips out of your hand, at least three times. Or how your coat gets caught on the door handle right when you’re running late. Also in the fact that, for some reason, you’re wearing two completely different shoes and don’t notice until you’re already in the elevator.

You don’t go back to change them. After all, no one looks at your feet in a marketing agency. Unless you work in fashion. And you don’t work in fashion.

You work in “emotionally driven brand storytelling strategy.” Which is just a fancy way of saying you come up with excuses for people to buy things they don’t need.

At 9:08, you get to the office. You know this because the biometric check-in clock reminds you, like a threat. You throw on your jacket with the defeated air of someone who already knows there’s no hot coffee left for her.

There are two people in the office's kitchen: Lucía, who always looks like she’s either about to cry or fall in love, and Guillermo, who speaks with an exaggeratedly British accent that no one really understands.

“Morning,” he says without looking up from his phone.

“How are you?” you reply, not because you care, but because silence feels even more aggressive.

“Busy. So busy. We have that pitch with the Swiss skincare brand at eleven. And then there’s the meeting.”

Ah. The meeting.

Your boss had announced it yesterday on Teams with the gravity of someone introducing the new Messiah:

“Tomorrow, we have an important meeting. Very important. Like, potential long-term strategic client important. I need your best brains, team. Bring attitude.”

You head back to your desk, a white table that’s far too small, which you share with three other people and a dying plant everyone pretends not to be turning their backs on.

On your screen, thirty-seven tabs are open. Nine are unfinished briefs, three are online clothing stores, and one is a search for: “how to tell if you’re having an emotional breakdown or just sleep-deprived.”

You take a deep breath. Open your calendar. The event is there:

10:30 – Confidential meeting.Subject: Project Star.Attendees: Management, PR, you.

You. Lowercase. Like a typo someone forgot to fix.

You try to focus. Take a sip of your coffee (cold). Open the Excel file with your corporate smile, the one you once practiced in the kitchen mirror. But it doesn’t last.

Because at 10:28, you get a direct message from HR:

Marta (HR): | Head up to Room 5. They’re all here. Including him 👀

Including him.

Who is him? And why that emoji?

Room 5 is the good room. The one with the Scandinavian sofas and the fancy capsule coffee machine. It’s almost always empty, as if reserved for things that matter. Or for people who earn more in a year than you will in your entire career.

When you walk in, the first thing you see is your boss, wearing that smug “I closed this deal even though I didn’t do anything” smile. Then three people you don’t recognize. Suits. Serious. A woman holding a folder full of documents, and two men who look like they haven’t laughed since 2017.

And then you see him.

He’s sitting in the corner of the sofa, staring at his phone like it’s blowing up. White shirt, sleeves rolled up, expensive watch. The kind of person who doesn’t need an introduction because you’ve already seen his face twenty times—on bus stop billboards, Nike campaigns, and a live-through nightmare involving penalty kicks and your grandmother’s best friend, who is Argentine.

Kylian. The footballer. That one.

Your first thought was: He’s even better looking in real life. Your second was: Don’t look impressed.

Your boss catches your eye and motions for you to sit down.

“This is Y/N, our trusted creative director,” your boss says in that tone he uses when he’s trying to sound cool and young, despite he is entering his middle 50’s.

You smile as best you can. Your heart’s pounding like it’s doing cardio on your behalf.

Kylian looks up. And for a fraction of a second, he looks at you.

Not in a “who are you?” kind of way, but more like “right, so you’re the one who’s supposed to fix this.”

You sit down on the opposite end of the sofa. Far enough not to seem intimidating. Close enough to pretend you’re not trying to seem anything at all.

Your boss clears his throat. That thing he always does right before saying something that sounds like a headline but means absolutely nothing.

“Well, as I was saying, this is a special project. A unique opportunity to… rewrite the narrative.”

“Rewrite the narrative” is his new favorite phrase. He’s been using it ever since someone said it at a networking event and he jotted it down on his iPhone, right next to gems like “pivot from authenticity” and “emotional capital.”

“Kylian is entering a new chapter,” he adds, as if talking about a divorce or a spiritual awakening. “His team wants to work on his personal brand from a more honest place. More connected. Something… human.”

Kylian says nothing. Still staring at his phone. Like none of this matters. Like he’d honestly rather be out training in the rain or under 600-watt studio lights.

One of the women across the table finally speaks. She looks like she handles PR. Her voice sounds like one of those self-help podcasts that tell you everything happens for a reason while selling you a course on productivity.

“We want people to meet the real Kylian. Not just the athlete. The boy who grew up in the suburbs, who loves art, who’s investing in cultural initiatives for young people.”

The boy who loves art. Right. Like every bored millionaire who collects neon sculptures and Warhol prints they don’t even understand.

“We’re thinking of a series of documentary-style content—something intimate but visually strong. Also, a small social media campaign where he speaks directly to the audience. No filter.”

Your boss nods, enthusiastically, as he adds.

“And that’s why we have Y/N. Our top creative. Brilliant. With a unique sensitivity. She knows how to connect with difficult audiences. She’s worked with NGOs, tech start-ups, an inclusive pottery workshop…”

Your name, your career, your work, it all sounds like it’s being read out loud at your professional funeral. You smile. Because that’s what’s expected.

You turn toward Kylian. He looks at you. Finally. As if he’s only just now mentally arrived in the room.

“You write the scripts?” he asks. His voice is deeper than you expected. Like someone who doesn’t rush his sentences.

“I write the ideas,” you reply. “The scripts too. But if everything goes well, no one will remember the words. Just how it made them feel.”

You’re not sure why you said that. Maybe because it sounds like something a brilliant creative would say. Maybe because you’re just a little tired of being treated like a walking PowerPoint.

He nods. Says nothing else.

Your boss clears his throat again. There are more details, of course: deadlines, photo shoots, potential trips, a budget no one dares to say out loud. Words like “engagement,” “authenticity,” and “rebranding” hover in the air like LinkedIn mosquitoes.

And you, meanwhile, are sitting there wondering how this even happened. How you went from creating ad campaigns for titanium frying pans to looking into the eyes of someone who’s probably going to be the next football legend.

At the end of the meeting, he stands and everyone follows.

You stay behind a little longer, unsure if you should head back to your desk or pretend you need to go over your notes.

He turns at the door. Gives you a quick glance. Like he’s not sure whether to say goodbye.

“So, I guess I’ll see you soon,” he says.

And without thinking too much, you reply: “Looks like it.”

Later, in the office kitchen and dining area, Lucía looks at you like you just had dinner with Brad Pitt, her eternal crush.

“So? What was he like? Was he nice? Did he talk to you?”

“He asked me one question.”

“And? How was it? Can you tell he’s French?”

“Not really. You can tell he didn’t want to be here.”

She laughs. “So basically, just like you. Soulmates.”

You pour yourself more coffee. Even though it’s already noon and you know you shouldn’t. But you need something to remind you you’re still awake. That this wasn’t just a celebrity reality show fever dream.

Your boss messages you on Teams:

“Great impression. He liked you. Work your magic.”

Work your magic. As if it were that easy. As if magic weren’t, almost always, just logistics and anxiety.

You spend the afternoon going through the briefing. They’ve sent you a 17-page document titled: “A New Era: Humanizing the Legend.”

The title alone makes you want to jump out the window.

The phrases are full of vague objectives: — Position an emotional identity. — Connect with non-sports audiences. — Turn notoriety into relatability.

There are black-and-white photos of him. One with a vintage bike. Another reading a book with no title. A third holding a little girl (his niece, according to the caption). You wonder which parts of all this are real. And which ones you’ll have to invent.

You start jotting down notes. On a post-it, you write:

What if instead of pretending he’s “the guy next door,” we show him as someone who also had to fight for what he truly wanted? Distance as truth. Fame as fracture.

You like that sentence. Fame as fracture.

You stick it to the edge of your monitor. Right next to another post-it that says: – Call the dentist. – Stop stalking Louis. – Buy tampons.

The next morning unfolds like the mornings of the past six months: fast, half-hearted, with a light drizzle of anxiety—which today, for obvious reasons, feels slightly more intense.

You’ve been summoned to a more intimate meeting. Proposed by his PR manager. Just you, the PR manager, and him.

It’s in a coworking space in Chamberí that looks like a Pinterest café with people-pleasing issues.

When you arrive, they’re already seated. He’s wearing a cap. And sunglasses. Indoors. As if he didn’t want anyone to recognize him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he replies. Dry. Tired. Then silence.

The PR manager talks for eleven straight minutes. You know it because you count it mentally. He nods occasionally, as if he’s listening. But you watch him and know he’s not really there. So you go for it.

“Sorry. Can I ask something?”

They both turn to you. The PR manager, with a thin smile, the kind that expects you to compliment her long monologue where she’s said everything and absolutely nothing. The kind of monologue that’s made you consider requesting medical leave and handing this project off to someone else, if all future meetings are going to be like this.

“Do you actually want to do this?” you continue.

He blinks. “This?”

“Yeah. The campaign. The rebrand. Are you actually interested in it, or are you here because someone told you to be?”

The PR manager shoots you a look that could be categorized as brand sabotage.

Kylian, however, laughs. A short laugh. But a real one.

“Does it matter?”

“A lot. If you’re not into it, it’s going to show. And if it shows, everyone’s going to see it. And if they see it, they’ll call you fake. And, then we’ll have to redo the whole campaign, but this time using the drama as the hook.”

He looks at you. “All right. I’ll try.”

“Try what?”

“To care.”

You nod and make a mental note: Functional sarcasm. Potential sense of humor. Possibly shy (or just reserved, does he not like me? If so, bad start). Possibly just fed up.

They send you clips of him “for inspiration.” Interviews. Matches. Viral moments.

There’s one in particular. A phone-recorded video on a plane. He’s on his phone. Someone off-camera asks if he’s nervous about the final. He answers:

“No. I’m tired.”

Tired. Not in a physical sense. Existentially tired.

That’s the crack. That’s where you can slip in.

The next day, he shows up at the office. Unannounced. Wearing a watch that probably costs more than a year’s rent on your flat, and the look of someone who Googled “how to dress normal” this morning and gave up halfway.

It’s four in the afternoon. You’re working the late shift today, you swapped with Mireia so you could work in a quieter environment, with fewer people to distract you while you try to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to frame this project.

“I’m here to work with you,” he says, walking toward your desk. The desk you’ve been saying for over a month now that you’ll tidy up, because honestly, it’s starting to get embarrassing. And now the embarrassment is fully devouring you from the inside out.

“Did you bring ideas? Proposals? Do you want to change something in the project?” you ask, because you’re not entirely sure why he’s here.

He doesn’t trust me, does he?

To be fair, your boss didn’t exactly sell you very well. And you wouldn’t trust someone either if they looked like they hadn’t been laid properly in five months and seventeen days (which, if asked, wouldn’t be too far from the truth), to run the documentary that’s supposed to reinvent your public image.

“No.”

You raise an eyebrow. Definitely doesn’t trust me. You think. Or maybe his PR manager sent him to spy on you, because she also doesn’t trust how you do your job, especially after you, let’s be honest, gently shredded hers the other day.

He grabs a spare chair and sits next to you, stealing Pablo’s seat, who’s now watching the interaction from the water machine like it’s a live episode of something he didn’t know he needed.

“These ‘meetings’ usually happen with PR,” you tell him. “You don’t have to be here. They can send you the details.”

“I don’t care,” he shrugs. “It’s a project about my life, right? I should know what’s being said. And what’s not.”

Then, with just the right amount of cheek: “Got any coffee? Pour me one.”

You stare at him. Did he just tell me to make him coffee? Like I’m his assistant?

And you stare a little longer. He holds your gaze, half-smirking, half-testing. That kind of expression that doesn’t fully commit to being rude or polite. As if he hasn’t decided which version of himself is most useful in a Madrid office on a Tuesday afternoon.

You inhale. Slowly.

“We don’t have personal assistants here.”

You get up. Walk toward the coffee machine without looking back. Spine straight. Jaw set. Your version of saying don’t mess with me without saying it.

“Then make us both one,” he adds from your chair, like that somehow makes it better.

The laugh escapes before you can stop it. Dry. More of a stylish snort than a laugh, really.

“Sugar? Or do you want me to draw your logo in the foam?”

“No sugar. I'm in season, gotta watch the sweets.” He says it softer this time. Almost like an apology.

When you come back with the two mugs, he’s already leaned into your monitor. Arms crossed. Eyes fixed on the project timeline you’d left open.

“All this... you do it alone?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Did you think I had a team?”

Now he turns. Looks at you fully. Something’s shifted in his face, like irony was the password to get into his world.

“No. It’s just... a lot.”

You shrug.

“It is. But hey, at least no one makes me chase a ball for a living.”

He laughs. An unexpected one. Brief. Almost sweet. And that’s when it hits you: He’s not just looking at you. He’s watching you. Like he’s trying to figure something out about you that’s not in your resumé.

The next forty minutes, you work in silence. Or at least, what passes for “working” when two people are hyper-aware of each other and there's a quiet tension in the air that neither of you knows how to name yet.

Every now and then, he asks something. About the script tone. The order of the clips. Whether his accent is “too French” for a voiceover.

“Do you think I should speak Spanish in the videos?” he asks.

You consider it.

“If you want people to see you’re making an effort, yes. If you want to sound perfect, no.”

“I want to sound real.”

“Then leave it as it is. With mistakes. With pauses. With ‘ehh’ and ‘I don’t know.’”

He nods. And something opens there. Just a crack. A window slit. But it’s real.

He’s smarter than he looks. You realize that somewhere between the conversation on narratives, social media, and how to show vulnerability without sounding like a performance. He has opinions. He asks. He listens.

And you... You’re confused. Because you don’t know if this is still work. Or if you’re slowly being pulled into the gravity of it all. Of him. Of this moment.

At some point, he laughs at something you say and looks at you like you’re brilliant. Not beautiful. Brilliant. And for some reason, that disarms you more than any physical compliment.

The next day, at 10:36 a.m., the unofficial break time for Lucía, as if the universe had conspired for this conversation to happen, Lucía shows up at your desk with a cookie in hand.

“Was it real? He was here? Pablo told me.”

You raise your gaze to meet Lucía’s eyes, like she’s reached the juiciest part of a novel she can’t stop reading. You simply nod and turn your attention back to the monitor of your computer.

“So, how was it?”

You glance at your empty coffee cup resting next to the mountain of discarded post-its, all with ideas that still don’t quite fit this project. Ideas that seem to wander like echoes, failing to capture the essence.

“Strange.”

“Strange good or strange bad?” Lucía insists, now sitting on the edge of your desk, making it feel like an interrogation.

You sigh, gathering your thoughts.

“Strange ‘I want him back.’” You admit, letting yourself be pulled into that mix of confusion and realization you’ve been keeping to yourself.

You told her about that strange back-and-forth, that feeling you couldn’t quite describe, but Lucía, after hearing it, defined it as “professional flirting in disguise.”

“We’re not flirting.”

“Of course you are. It’s just that instead of telling him you love his smile, you told him his current storytelling is weak and redundant.”

“Because it is.”

“And he looked at you like he wanted you to write his biography and emotional resume.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Girl, I’m telling you, as a friend and as someone who’s seen all the seasons of The Bold Type, that guy cares more about your feedback than winning the Ballon d'Or.”

Exaggerations aside, something was there. A subtle thread of mutual curiosity, something that was growing without you realizing. And now, here you were: immersed in a project that would last several weeks, working alongside him. Defining the tone of his communication, developing digital pieces, planning interviews… All while trying to maintain your composure and stay focused on your workday.

You’ve come to the conclusion that it all boils down to the fact that you were bored.

You could say it was the algorithm. You could blame a well-executed digital strategy. You could use any excuse, really, and not be lying. But deep down, you know it was that. Boredom. The deadliest of mental states.

And there you were, last night, a Wednesday, with your emergency bun and a lopsided dinner in front of you, watching a video of Kylian Mbappé talking about motivation in a square format with black-and-white subtitles. He wore a white shirt, the collar a little stretched, and several buttons undone. And you wore what was left of your self-esteem and a glass of supermarket red wine.

The worst part is, the video wasn’t bad. The worst part is, it actually seemed sincere. It was in English, with a strong accent and a hesitant intonation, like he was afraid of offending the language. He said things like, "you can’t be your best version if you don’t know who you are," and you nodded. YOU NODDED. After that, you turned off your phone as if it had slapped you and went to bed without washing your face. Because boredom doesn’t just make you vulnerable; it also makes you lazy.

You told Lucía the story as if it were some ridiculous anecdote. Something to laugh about during her unofficial coffee break. But Lucía, who is not just your coworker but your version with steroids, looked at you as if you’d said something important.

“Girl, what if this is a sign?”

“A sign of what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That you need a change. Or a quickie. Or both.”

#kylian mbappe #kylian x reader #kylian x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #mbappe #football x reader #football x y/n #kylian mbappe x y/n

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crldnvrs97 · 27 days ago

Note

what was your most embarrassing moment?

I'm gonna be a yappatron machine with this question so to those uninterested, just keep scrolling.

This happened in 2016 when I was around 9 years old. I had a huge crush on my English teacher, who was probably in her 50s. I don’t remember her exact age, but she was kind, gentle, and very pretty!!!! She also gave me a lot of academic validation, which is probably why I had a crush on her in the first place.

At the time, we were starting creative writing lessons, including simple poems and similar activities. I ended up writing a poem for her. I used one of my scrapbook pages, so the design was already decorated and neat. After finishing it, I placed it in the same envelope as my homework, planning to submit everything together. (yes, including the very cheesy cringey poem)

Along those days, I had to be dropped off at my mother’s office before school. My classes started at 7:00 AM, but I stayed in her office from around 5:30 until it was time to leave. When I got to school, I realized I had left my envelope behind. I wasn’t even thinking about the poem. I was panicking because my homework was in there. I had to explain the situation to my teachers, and thankfully, they were kind enough to consider.

Later that day, when my mom picked me up, she suddenly asked me if I liked girls. I was completely stunned. At that age, I didn’t fully understand the concept of sexual orientations, but I knew some people thought it was bad, especially in the Christian school I was attending. I had no idea how my mother felt about it either, and we weren’t particularly close, so I just stayed quiet. (I feared she would be mad with whatever answer I chose so...)

Then she said she had my envelope, and the poem was inside. She also said that she had read it.

That was legit embarrassing because 1. I did not want my mother knowing I had a crush on my teacher old enough to be my mother. 2. I did not even know yet what that meant regarding my own sexuality!!! It was one of the most vulnerable things I had ever written, and not only had she seen it, she confronted me about it in a way I wasn’t prepared for. We didn’t have a strong relationship, so I had no clue how to respond. Even at that age, I knew I couldn’t explain what I was feeling TO HER.

#and after years nothing has changed #i am still very much crushing on women old enough to be my mother #i love women

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bitbugbites-re · 2 years ago

Text

𝙳𝙰𝙼𝚂𝙴𝙻 // 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔬𝔰 𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔞 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

As summer comes to an end, you’re desperate to get some pool time in while you still can. However, since it’s now October, you’re pretty much out of luck. Luckily for you, there’s an indoor pool at the Y. Not to mention, it comes along with a cute pool boy!

a03 link

word count: ~8.6k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, FLUFF // drowning // ktober

a/n: literally supposed to be reading the bible for class rn but god be damned, this lady knows how to write erotic fiction !!!

p.s. -- if you're only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

You’re not crazy. You just want to swim.

Frowning, you stared down your phone as you read the most recent messages from your friends. They were replying to the flurry of texts you had just sent.

The first response read: “Girl. Lol.”

The next was: “You didn’t think about this in September???”

And the last response wasn’t even a response. It was a TikTok link leading to a video about things to do while in Vegas. You didn’t even live in Vegas. You’re on the East Coast.

You sighed, placing the phone down for a second before popping a Keurig cup into the proper machine, waiting for it to finish warming the water. When the buttons lit up, you pressed 12oz and leaned over the counter, one of your hands resting on your cheek. With your free hand, you picked your phone back up and re-read your initial texts as you listened to the liquid pour a straight line into your mug.

“u guys”

“I wanted to go swimming at least once this summer but I forgot”

“do u think there are any pools still open??? I don’t even care if its cold im desperate”

Yeah, so maybe you are a little crazy after all. It was October, and there was no way that even one pool would be open. You felt a little defeated, your desperation morphing into disappointment. Suddenly, the whirring of the Keurig slowed before spitting out the last bits of bitterly strong tea, a burning droplet jumping out and landing on your hand. You wondered if that was the Keurig’s way of calling you crazy as well.

Shaking your hand before wiping it with the opposite sleeve of your shirt, you stood up straight and leaned your back against the counter. With your phone in hand, you tapped out a string of shushing emojis in the group chat. Fuck it. You’re crazy and you’re proud.

You then pressed the video on, “Fun Things To Do In Vegas” which was accompanied by three exclamation points and a couple of emojis with their tongues out. The emojis implication almost made you a little scared of what “things” were going to be listed in the TikTok.

Before you could actually watch the video, though, a notification from your group chat popped up. It was from the friend who sent the Vegas video – they likely just now actually read the chat.

“Claire: Wait, what about the YMCA near your house? Doesn’t it have an indoor pool? Probably not the same kind of swimming that u were thinking of, but it’d be swimming lol.”

Oh shit. That’s a good idea. – Is what you both thought and simultaneously typed in response. Not missing a beat, you opened the search engine app on your phone and looked up the YMCA closest to you. Just under the images (which mostly consisted of it’s pool, oddly enough), you noticed that it was open from 5 A.M. to 9 P.M.

It was only 6:30 P.M. right now. Meaning, it was still open.

You switched back to the group chat’s tab and typed away.

“guess who’s going to the pool tonight”

“(it’s me)”

“anyone wanna come with?”

Surprisingly, the responses flooded in pretty quickly. They said:

“Claire: I wish, but I’ve got a class in an hour. I knew it was a bad decision to pick a class at 7 at night smh. Can’t ever meet up with u guys on weekends anymore :/”

“Ada: Can’t. Lots of work. Maybe next time.”

“Jill: Sorry, I’m at work right now. Had to pick up my coworker’s shift again. How about on the weekend?”

You groaned out a whine, throwing a mini-tantrum. You didn’t really want to go alone, because what fun would that be? Nonetheless, you didn’t want to wait for the weekend either. It was rare you guys ever actually had the same schedule, so you were sure the plans would just end up getting canceled or be pushed back even further. You’d just have to go alone.

You typed out a message informing your friends of your plan before placing the phone down with a heavy hand. Dragging your way down the narrow hall to your room, you plopped yourself down on your knees, opening up the dresser drawer that stored your bathing suits. You had an idea of which one you were going to wear, as it was a black one-piece with a deep-wired V down the front – It was appealing in the way that it wasn’t too revealing, but not unattractively modest either. Perfect for a venue that was family-friendly and not as free as the beach.

After a couple of minutes of rummaging, you slumped down to a hunch and huffed. You couldn’t seem to find the swimsuit. Not even after pulling out each bathing suit one by one. You searched, and searched, and searched, but it was nowhere to be found.

You caved to your frustration and picked out a bikini instead. You didn’t have any other swimsuits, so it was either a simplistic bikini or nothing. And after all that hullabaloo in the group chat, you were not choosing nothing.

Changing quickly, you then grabbed your things and headed for the car. It was now already after 6:45 P.M., and you were running out of time before the Y would close.

Soon enough, you were turning your car wheel to pull into the YMCA’s parking lot. You found a spot fairly fast and quickly put the car in park, removing your keys from the hole with a twist and pull of the wrist. As the car’s engine whirred, shutting off, you observed the parking lot. You noticed there weren’t too many cars. Hopefully, most of the people would be in the gym or another section of the Y and not the pool, you thought to yourself.

Stepping out of your car, you held onto the handle as you got dusted in the face by the wind, your hair flinging all over the place. The wind was pretty bad, but the chill alone was enough for you to huddle your arms over your body before running into the building. You were starting to regret coming to the pool so late in the day, especially in October, nonetheless. At least the air smelled nice, though; there must’ve been a place nearby having a bonfire, as there was a heavy waft of burning wood.

You pulled the heavy glass door open, practically swinging it with all your might, and walked in heaving. Maybe you should be going to the gym instead of the pool – how could you be out of breath from only a short jog across the parking lot?

No matter, you walked up to the counter and paid for a day pass. You got to go in free since you’re a first-time visitor, although you felt a little guilty considering it was going to be wasted on a less than two-hour excursion. It was probably fine though – you don’t think you’d need to go to the Y again after this, anyway.

Walking through the building, you admired the decorative furniture and monotone walls contrasted with bright accent walls and signs. It had a clean, modern look and you were pretty impressed by how well-kept it was; it must’ve been hard for the janitors who worked there considering it was a pretty big community establishment. You appreciated how spotless they were able to keep it with this knowledge in mind.

Soon, you found your way to the pool after getting lost and asking a very tired-looking staff member. You almost felt bad interrupting them – their dark undereye mixed with the lighting made them look as if they were ready to be taken out back and put down. Not that you blame them – they must’ve been here for a while now. You were sure you’d look like that too if you had to work until nine at night.

As you pushed the door to the pool open, you were immediately exposed to the hot, humid air. Typical of a pool. You had to admit, though, it felt pretty good as compared to the cold breeze outside. Besides, you probably wouldn’t feel this type of heat again unless you decided to put your heater on full blast in winter. Although that would turn your room into what was practically an oven and not a fun chlorine-smelling paradise – so maybe it wasn’t the same after all.

You observed the area, your eyes immediately landing on the few kids splashing around in the middle of the pool. Great. In situations like these, you tend to sit on the side of the stairs to the pool – but that spot seemed to be occupied by a group of older men and women, so you crossed that option off. You didn’t feel like getting dragged into a conversation about retirement homes, or grandchildren, or…stuff. You weren’t really sure what the elderly chatted about.

Admitting defeat, you decided to just go sit on one of the pool chairs instead. You figured you’d just wait it out, betting that both the kids and the elderly wouldn’t stay for much longer. It was almost pitch-black outside, and seeing both children and old people at night was practically like spotting a leprechaun next to a pot of gold, you thought.

As soon as you sat and plopped your stuff down in the middle-most chair, you took in a breath and looked around. And that’s when you saw him.

You swore your heart stopped beating for a second. He was gorgeous.

Most of the men you came across on a day-to-day basis looked downright horrendous, dressed in sweats and backward caps with dumb labels like “GymRat,” so to see a fit man with a haircut that suited his looks and facial scruff that looked like it was actively trimmed was like seeing that your younger sibling didn’t pick all of the marshmallows out of your favorite cereal and eat them. A blessing, that’s what this is, you thought.

You figured he was the lifeguard, as he was sitting in the lifeguard’s chair, leaning back with one leg dangling and the other using his heel to support his placement on the seat. He had one arm lazing on the armrest, while the other held his tilted head in place as he watched the kids dash up waves of water at one another. Every once in a while, his lips would curve into an amused smile, and he’d shake his black curls out of his face, eyes not straying from the children at play. Cute, you thought.

Watching him for a while longer, you noticed three things about him:

His eyes stayed trained on the kids in the pool, not the elderly. Every once in a while, if they made a sudden movement, he’d sit up, as if he were ready to leap from the tall chair at a moment's notice.

He seemed to be pretty proud of his body, or at least his looks. His posture was confident in nature and he never covered up any part of his body with his arms.

He had a charismatic personality, or at the very least, was on good terms with the janitors. Every time they passed by, he’d quickly turn his head, see who it was, and make a comment of some sort. He always had a grin on his face as he did, and never showed a bit of discourtesy nor dislike, even if the janitor didn’t return the energy.

Of course, those weren’t the only things you noticed about him. You also noticed he had a great body. Did you mention he had a great body? He had a great body.

He didn’t even need to be shirtless for you to tell. His arms and thighs were fat with muscle, his calves fit for a marathon runner, and his chest with mounds big enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew how to flex them one at a time, as a kind of party trick.

You also could tell that he was a pretty hairy guy, not that you were complaining. You liked that in a man. You wondered what it would feel like to run your hands down his arm as his legs brushed up against the skin of–

And then he looked in your direction. He saw you. As you were at your apex of wanting to eat him alive.

Your face burned with embarrassment as his eyes met yours, and before you made a fool out of yourself, you looked away. Grabbing your phone which now felt sticky from the humidity, you pulled up the group chat, pretending to be busy.

“guys”

“there’s a rly cute lifeguard here and he caught me staring”

“im so embarrassed”

You stared at the screen for a while, waiting for your friends to respond, but none came.

Damn. Why is it that whenever you need a distraction, no one is active?

It didn’t take long after for you to give up, slinking your phone back down. You picked up a book instead, sneakily glancing up at the lifeguard once more to see if he was still looking your way. He wasn’t. His eyes were trained back on the kids, which surprisingly, made you feel a little disappointed.

You read for a while until eventually, you received a notification.

“Ada: Lol. You have a crush?”

“Ada: You should go up to him.”

The longer you considered Ada’s suggestion, the more your heart raced. You seriously considered it for a moment, but abruptly shut it down after thinking about how weird it actually might be.

“I can’t do that”

“I don’t even know what I’d say”

Ada replied almost immediately.

“Ada: Then make him want to go up to you.”

It wasn’t bad advice. You thought about it for a bit, staring at the paved concrete below your pool chair. An ant scurried on by, passing your left foot, and once it was out of sight, you snapped out of your daze and returned your head to a forward position.

Once you did, you noticed the lifeguard’s gaze on you. He was looking at you first this time.

As soon as your eyes met, he flung his head to the side, pretending to rub his neck. It was pretty awkward to watch, as his hands moved aimlessly and unpurposeful, as there was really no physical reason for him to need to touch his neck. It was easy to tell that he was only doing it to play off the fact that he was caught staring, too.

His attraction – or at the very least, interest, was mutual, then. You felt a fire of confidence rising in your chest, and you now knew how you’d get him to come up to you first.

You stood up from your chair, keeping him in your peripheral view, pretending to dust yourself off before seeing his head move back in your direction. Good, he was watching you again.

Very slowly, you began to remove the regular clothes that rested atop your bikini. Once fully stripped to your swimsuit, you made sure to fold your clothes neatly. After each article was folded, you would bend over, your behind facing his direction, placing it flatly onto the pool chair. Each time you did this, you couldn’t tell if he was looking, but you were sure that he wouldn’t have been able to resist at minimum, a glance.

Once done, you began to walk towards the water. You felt a little conscious in your stride, your step heavy, but also determined to play it cool. When approaching the stairs of the pool, you grabbed onto the accompanying handlebar, creating a divide in the water as you were further submerged. You passed the elderly group, and once they thought you were out of earshot, one exclaimed, “I wish I still had a young body like that.” The others chuckled, agreeing with the notion. You blushed and continued your journey to an empty spot in the pool.

Wading through the water, you then came up near the area where the kids were playing. You went to the side opposite the lifeguard’s chair and leaned against the wall. It was a little noisy – no, very noisy being near the kids. On top of that, you were occasionally hit with splatters of water every time they tried to mimic professional swimmers, but at least your plan was working. You think.

You weren’t really sure because you were too scared to look back up at the lifeguard. But that’s OK. All girlbosses have their weak moments.

While lost in thought trying to figure out your next step on alluring the lifeguard (as, for some reason, he wasn’t already proposing marriage and offering a bride-dowry to your parents consisting of 400 sheep, 200 goats, fifty pieces of silver, a years’ worth of unleavened bread, and seven years’ labor), you noticed two children playing roughly, one a bone-thin blonde, and the other a brunette missing one of his front teeth.

The blonde child was in a small floaty, laughing as his friend tried to swim under the tube and get inside of it with him. Every time he dived under the water, the boy would swerve his donut-shaped float, swimming a few inches away, laughing. This went on for a while, until eventually, the blonde boy switched his tactic and began pushing his friend’s head away from his float while under the water.

You grew concerned as you watched, knowing they were starting to get a little too carried away, and you looked around for their parents. You then spotted a couple of adults on the pool chairs near the towel rack, busy conversing about something you couldn’t hear. You weren’t sure what to do and turned your head back to the kids, and then there was a stifled thump.

Your heart started to race as the blonde boy started to look worried, noticing his friend wasn’t coming up out of the water. You noticed what was happening when the child leaned over his tube, holding his reddened elbow, freezing in place.

The toothless boy was knocked out.

The child with scrawny arms somehow managed to deal a blow hard enough for his friend to lose consciousness. He whipped his head around to get the lifeguard’s attention, desperately screaming, “Help! Help!”

The lifeguard was already halfway down the chair even before the boy started yelling. It seemed like his gaze had been so focused on the children earlier because he knew something like this was bound to happen.

The child was now sobbing, looking around for his parents, of which the whole group was now running over to see what the commotion was about.

You saw the kid whose body started to sink downwards, your heartbeat stammering in your chest.

You had to do something.

Launching yourself forward, you began to swim to the child nearby. As you did, you heard the lifeguard jump in the pool, a loud splash of water mixing in with the cries of the children’s parents.

You made it to the boy under the water first, diving straight down. Once you got a hold of him, you yanked his arm up, pulled him to your body, and positioned his behind on your arm, so that his head would immediately be above the water.

Both of you came up, and you gasped for air, blinking rapidly so that you could see. The lifeguard was right next to you, hurriedly taking the boy from your arms, rushing him toward the edge of the pool, and plopping him down on the concrete. You followed over, as did pretty much everyone at the pool, watching the lifeguard push desperately at his chest.

After a short while, which actually felt like forever, the boy gasped, throwing up the water that was in his lungs. The lifeguard helped the boy sit up a little, rubbing his back as he continued his violent coughs and sobs. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I got’cha, bud.”

Once the brunette had finally gotten a hold of himself, he ran to his parents, who held him and began petting his head. The other parents, who seemed to all be friends, began thanking the lifeguard profusely on both the boy's and his parent’s behalf.

The lifeguard was crouched, slightly hunched over, breathing heavily, simply shaking his head to assure them it was okay. “Just doin’ my job,” he smiled despite the apparent stress on his face, “Actually, you should be thanking the kind lady over there.”

His gaze moved from the worry-stricken parents to you. “She’s the one who saved his life.”

You blushed, your eyes moving from him, then to the parents, not sure what to say. You didn’t think you did that much.

The parents came up to you and began thanking you as well, telling you how brave it was of you to dive in after the boy. You were only able to stammer out a couple of “it’s no problem’s” and “thank you’s” in return.

Soon, almost everyone left the pool, deciding they had witnessed enough of the pool for the night. Even the group of elderly packed their things and headed towards the changing room.

You too had figured it was probably time to go, forgetting your entire plan of romancing the man who had just previously given you all the credit when he was the one to bring the boy back from unconsciousness.

However, as you turned and began walking back to your stuff, the lifeguard ran up to your side, trying to get your attention. “Hey, hey.”

You turned to face him, stopping in place. “Um–yes?” you said, a little taken aback at his greeting, not expecting him to have started a conversation.

“Ah–oh,” he said, tripping on his words. “I just wanted to thank you, for saving the kid.”

You smiled at his words. “Sure,” you said. You then tilted your head, quirking a brow. “I didn’t really do much, though. You did more than me, so–”

He quickly cut you off, a tint of excitement in his voice. “No, no! If you hadn’t gotten him out, he would’ve been under even longer. Every second matters–you saved his life. I only got the water ‘outta his airway.”

You blushed a little at his enthusiasm for your act of heroism. “Well, uh, thank you–”

“You were so cool,” he said, and you swore you felt your heart explode.“Thanks,” you mumbled out, and soon enough, silence grew between the two of you. You were trying to figure out what to say back.

“Well, I should–” the lifeguard started to say, turning his body to leave. You scrambled for a response back, not wanting him to go.

“You were cool, too.” You said, your voice sounding a little wobbly. You felt your face start to grow red, your blood rising in degrees with every millisecond that passed.

The lifeguard seemed shy now, too, raising an arm behind his head, rubbing at his neck like he did earlier. “Oh–really?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out.

There was silence once more before the lifeguard laughed a little and held out his hand to you. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet ‘ya, Phelps.”

You took his hand, shaking it gently. He had a good handshake, and his hand felt huge in your own. “Phelps?” you said, not really understanding why he was referring to you as that.

“You know, Michael Phelps? The swimmer guy? Because you dove in to get the kid?”

You let out a long “ooooooh” as soon as you recognized what he was talking about, and laughed in response. “Pretty rude to call a lady Michael Phelps, dont’cha think?”

He laughed back before running his hand through his hair – which, miraculously, was able to stay dry since you were the one to reach the kid underwater. “Sorry, pretty lady. What should I call you then?”

You blushed a little upon hearing him call you “pretty lady,” a cheeky grin growing on your face. “You can call me Y/N. Or pretty lady, too. I don’t mind either.”

He laughed, shaking his head in an amused manner. He placed his hands on his hips, and tilted his head back a little, grinning. “Okay, pretty lady. How old are you? You in college?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah. What about you?”

“Yep. I’m a senior. You?”

You replied, and from there, your conversation began to take off. You talked about things as small as favorite colors, to medium things like what your majors were, to big things like how many dogs were too many dogs for a person to have. You both seemed to click really well, and you had to admit, you had never met someone as easy to talk to before Carlos.

As you both started passionately debating on whether or not the pool slide was white or beige, an announcement sounded over the speakers.

“Attention guests, the YMCA will be closing in five minutes. Please make sure to gather all your things and head to the exit. Those who are still in the building after closing will be escorted outside by staff. Thank you for choosing the YMCA, and we hope to see you again soon!”

You and Carlos looked at one another, not sure what to say.

You realized then, that all this time, you’d been keeping Carlos from leaving when he probably could’ve packed up early for the night. Embarrassed, you jumped up from where you both had been sitting. At some point during your conversation (before its interruption), you both had sat at the edge of the pool, your legs resting in the water.

“Shit, I’m sorry for keeping you–” you said. “I’ll go get my things so you can leave–I’m so sorry–”

As you turned in a hurry to go get your stuff, you felt Carlos’ hand rest on your shoulder, stopping you. “Hey, hey–you’re fine, you’re fine.”

You jumped a little at the contact, your face turning red, and once you turned to face Carlos, you noticed he had realized what he had done.

You were wearing a swimsuit. You had on practically next to nothing. And he, a stranger, was touching you.

He pulled his hand back, going to rub his neck, but pausing as he began to raise it. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with himself now. “Uh–”

“Sorry, shit–I didn’t mean to–uh,” he stumbled. “Was that weird?”

You took in a deep breath and averted your gaze. “No. No, you’re fine.”

“Are–are you sure?” he pushed.

“Yes, yes, you’re fine. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I’m worrying. You can tell me if–”

You sighed and looked him in his eyes. “It’s fine. I liked it.”

Upon hearing the words come out of your mouth, you froze. Your frustration with his reluctance to accept your assurance must have gotten to you, as you didn’t mean to say the last part.

“You liked it?” he said. He seemed a little surprised, with a mix of something else. You weren’t quite sure what.

“Um. Yeah–yeah.” you asserted. And then there was silence again.

Unable to take the awkward tension, you cracked a joke. “I’m flattered by your desperation to keep me from leaving. Very, uh–flattering touch.”

Turns out you weren’t very good at jokes.

Nonetheless, he seemed to like it. He chuckled a little, which made your heartbeat increase in pace. He seemed to have good humor even in cringy situations. You liked that.

“Well, I’m glad you’re flattered, at least. I’d do it again if I needed to.” He smiled.

You blushed, and that’s when your mouth started to move on its own. “Then do it.”

“What?” he said, a little surprised.

“I’m on my way to leave. The building closes in…” You checked the clock on the wall. “...a minute or less. If you don’t want me to leave, then touch me again.” You looked up at him expectantly.

He paused for a minute and it was clear he was debating on what to do. You waited, watching him shift in place – going to rub his neck again, as he had been doing whenever he was nervous.

Suddenly, it was 9 P.M. and the announcement over the loudspeaker played, declaring it was closing time and all the guests who hadn’t left yet needed to begin their way on exiting the building. Your heart dropped a little, taking his lack of response before the loudspeaker’s interjection as a “no.”

You smiled weakly, taking the hint. You turned to grab your things off the pool chair and spoke. “Well, it was nice to–”

In a heartbeat, he grabbed your shoulder with a sense of determination, spinning you towards him. He placed one hand on your hip, pulling you in, before kissing you with wild passion.

You felt the roughness of his stubble first and then the softness of his lips. Slowly, you closed your eyes, kissing him back.

He was a fast kisser, constantly changing the way he sucked at your lips, alternating between tilting his head to the side so that he could press his mouth into yours, and tilting his head downwards so that he could pull your mouth while you struggled to stay connected. He was constantly desperate for more access as if he wanted to make sure you felt him all over your lips, not one spot untouched.

Your hands rested on his soaking wet shirt that clung to his skin from when he had jumped into the pool to save the kid. It felt a little cold, but you got used to it as your kiss continued.

The only thing the two of you could hear was each other’s heavy breathing, along with the smack of your lips as they collided. That was, until, the sound of the pool door opened.

Both you and Carlos separated immediately, your lips feeling cold at the sudden touch of air, missing the warmth of Carlos’ own warm lips. You did, however, still feel the tingle left from his feverish push-and-pull play.

With about a two-foot distance now between the two of you, you both looked over to see what the noise was exactly.

In walked an older woman, one you would’ve guessed was in her early 60’s. Her hair was completely gray, resting in a shaggy bun with little hairs falling out. She looked rough – and ready to go home for the night.

“H–hey, Mary. You almost done for the night?”

She eyed him suspiciously before replying. “Wouldn’t that be a damn miracle.”

She continued to go about her business, and you felt awkward watching their conversation.

Suddenly, Carlos’ head shot towards you and then back towards Mary. “Oh, uh, I was just about to escort this…young, damsel-in-distress out of the building. She didn’t know where the exit was, you see.”

You shot him a dirty look as if saying, “I know where the exit is.”

Mary didn’t seem to care. She simply took the mop out of the water in the cleaning cart and plopped it on the floor. It made an uncomfortably loud squelch sound in an otherwise silent room. “Mmm.”

Carlos grabbed your things for you, and put an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I’ve gotta maintain my status as a gentleman, so…we’ll be on our way! See ‘ya later, Mary!”

It sounded like she mumbled out an “I hope not,” but you weren’t too sure.

The two of you walked quickly to the door, and once it shut behind you, Carlos let go of your arm.

“Well, that was, uh–something?” He smiled, still holding onto your clothes and other items.

“Yeah,” you said, before looking up at him with an amused smile. “Damsel-in-distress, huh?”

He laughed and shuffled on his feet. “What, you the type that doesn’t like to be saved?”

You smirked. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You wanna find out?”

He grinned as he looked at you, raising a brow in an amused fashion. “Only because you make it sound so alluring.”

After hearing his reply, you closed in on his body, wrapping your arms around his neck. You stood on your tippy-toes, whispering in his ear as your cheek brushed against his lengthy hair and scratchy stubble. “I’ll show you every part of me that you want, but you need to take me somewhere private first.”

You pulled back, and you saw that he was grinning. It was evident in his eyes alone that he was excited, although, there was a mix of something else, too. The other kind of excitement, perhaps – it was a very lustful look.

He held out his hand, and as you took it, he led you down the hall. You both laughed a little at the situation, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was cold in the building, probably mostly because you still only had on a bikini, but you weren’t too focused on it. The warmth of Carlos’ hand and the anticipation for what you both were about to do were the main things on your mind right now.

Soon enough, Carlos pulls you into a room, and you look around, observing it. It was a locker room, although you hadn’t noticed whether it was for men, women, or unisex. You figured it didn’t matter all that much, though – it’s not likely that anyone would walk in.

Carlos twirled you around, pulling you into his chest again. He looked down at you, smiling before leaning down and kissing you.

This time, his kiss was soft and exploratory. He took his time, not making any wild moves, although still leading the pace like he did the first time he kissed you. Maybe you were a damsel-in-distress after all – it was starting to seem like you were swept up in his game with no escape.

After a while, he broke away from the kiss, looking at you with gentle eyes.

“I don’t have a key to lock the door. Someone could walk in. Is that okay?”

You laughed a little, smiling. “Let them walk in.”

He chuckled back, speaking in a soft voice as he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re a bold girl, huh?”

Before you could respond, his lips were back on yours. His hands moved down your back before interlacing his fingers, keeping you pressed to him.

The kiss you shared was slow again at first, but it didn’t take long for it to pick up again. At the apex of your kiss, Carlos pulled his lips away, moving them to the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, and finally to your neck. It tickled at first due to his facial hair, and you let out a small laugh, but eventually, it started to feel really good.

He found all of the sweet spots on your neck, sucking and licking, desperate to hear the pleased moans that escaped you every time he touched you the way you liked. Once he seemed to want more, he began to travel further down your body. You smiled when he ventured over your breasts, gasped when he reached your stomach, and paused when he kissed your pelvic area.

Petting his hair, you spoke. “Carlos?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, looking up at you. He was waiting for you to give the go-ahead.

You felt a little nervous asking, but you knew it was important. “Have you been tested recently?”

He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been sexually active for a while, so I haven’t gone to get a test any time recent. The last time I did, though, there were no concerns.” He then picked up your leg, throwing it over his broad shoulder. He placed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Is that okay?”

You nodded your head and returned to running your fingers through his curls. He smiled up at you and started kissing through the bottom piece of your swimsuit again.

Once he figured he had done enough teasing, he removed your leg off his shoulder, slipping the bottoms down. You stepped out of it, and he picked your leg up again, placing it in its former position on his shoulder.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy.” he said nonchalantly, placing a kiss on where the slit started.

You laughed a little, pulling his head back to look up at you. He let you do it. “And you’ve got a pretty face to look at while you eat my pretty pussy.”

He let out a small exhale of a laugh, and you felt his breath brush up against your clit. Your grip on his head shivered, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

Soon enough, he was licking and kissing your soft spot. He took his time, remaining very gentle and attentive. No tremble, no shake, no quiver went unnoticed while he worked.

As you started to get closer to orgasm, you pulled him by his hair, tilting his head up at you. His eyes were half-lidded, staring up at you, his lapping at your folds unwavering.

You rubbed yourself a little more forcibly into him, grinding against his face. He seemed to like it, as he placed a hand on your hip, bringing you down even harder onto him every time you pushed up against him.

You felt yourself getting close, and the moans you had been stifling were getting hard to hold in. “Fucking god, Carlos, I’m close.” you murmured.

Carlos didn’t respond, nor speed up, he simply shut his eyes and kept the pace he had been going at. You stared down at his eyelashes, admiring how long they were as you came.

Your body shook a little, and once the high was over, you were panting, relying on Carlos to hold you up. He slowly pulled away, placing your leg back down, running his hands up your body as he stood up with you.

He held you for a moment, placing your head against his chest, and rubbing your back as you calmed down.

Once your breathing was steady, you pulled away from him, grabbing him by the shirt. His eyes widened, and he gave you an amused look.

You clung to him for a moment, before running your hands down his body as you got onto your knees in front of him.

Panicked, he took your hands off him and held them gently. “Hey, hey– you don’t have to–”

You looked up at him, still panting a little. “I’m paying you back.”

He shook his head, and then let go of one of your hands to caress your face. “Nah. Not this time. You can pay me back another time. After all, if I let you pay me back now, you might just run away and I won’t get to see you again.”

He smiled down at you as he said it, and you blushed a little when you realized he said not this time. That meant that there would be other times.

He then helped you up to your feet and kissed you again. It was a gentle kiss, but after your last orgasm, you were feeling needy for something faster.

You took the lead from him, kissing him as aggressively as you could to show that you were ready for him to be a little more rough with you. He seemed to get the hint but pulled away from the kiss.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said, seeming a little downcast at the thought.

You smiled at him, your arms now around his neck. “I do.”

He perked up a little and smirked at you. “You’re a little too prepared for a damsel-in-distress, aren’t you?”

You laughed and replied as you went to get the condom from your purse. “I’d say I’m just the right amount of prepared.”

As you walked back over to him with the condom, he pulled you in and started kissing your neck once more. He moved from up, down, up, down, then up again before whispering in your ear. “Think you’re prepared enough to put it on me?”

You laughed at his smooth words, and you whispered back. “What, you don’t know how to put one on yourself?”

He chuckled, and pulled away, taking the condom as you handed it to him. He tore it open using his teeth, staring down at you as he did it. Once it was open, you made a smart remark. “You know you’re not supposed to use your teeth to get it out, right?”

He chuckled, placing the wrapper and condom in his palm. He made a closed fist and went to remove his clothes. You admired his body as he did – and in regards to your earlier comment about him being a hairy man, you were right. He had just the right amount of chest hair, as well as a happy trail stemming from his trimmed pubic area. “Guess you were right – I don’t know how to put one on, after all.”

You laughed, watching him slide the thin condom onto his shaft. He was pretty big – you were a little worried about being able to fit all of him in.

Once he was certain the condom was on well, he looked over at you before picking you up in a rush. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his hips and burying your head in his neck. After a couple of seconds, you felt the cold wall against your back, and arched into him a little, trying to escape from the freezing touch.

He made a hmm noise that sounded amused at your squirming and then began pecking little kisses on your neck. You slowly eased back against the wall, getting used to the cold.

Once you did, Carlos began to press his body into you. You could tell Carlos enjoyed getting as much skin-on-skin as he could when intimate because he was always somehow buried in your touch.

His hips ground his cock into your stomach, humping you slowly as he continued to suck your neck. You were starting to get a little impatient now, wanting him inside you already, and so the next time he ground into you, you ground back.

He didn’t seem to be expecting it, as he let out a throaty, closed-mouth moan. He got the hint, though, as he pulled back a little, and propped himself at your entrance.

Slowly, he lowered you down onto his cock. He inserted the head first, watching your expression to see if it was okay. You winced a little, and he noticed.

Whispering, he tried to encourage you while he eased into you. “You’re doing good, Y/N. Most damsels-in-distress would’ve given up by now.”

You laughed, feeling him sink into you more. He smiled, watching your face as you adjusted. “Want me to make some noise for you?” he said, lowering his voice.

You nodded your head, interested in what noises he was going to make.

He placed his head on your shoulder, beginning to make subtle grunts and moans the more his cock delved into you.

You started to get a little more wet from hearing his voice, turned on by the presumable pleasure he was feeling as he moved in deeper and deeper. Eventually, he was fully in, and you were more than ready to get started.

You tapped his shoulder, insinuating that you were good to go. He picked his head up from your collarbone, then pressed his forehead against yours as he began to pull out, then push back in.

Both of you gasped silently, gripping one another as a way to express how good it felt. He continued to move, alternating the way he did it, going from rolling his hips in a continuous rhythm to jerkily bucking into you. Carlos was proving to be a spontaneous lover, and you had to admit, you enjoyed being kept on your toes.

Eventually, things started to pick up, and Carlos was now thrusting into you with a feverish desire. You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, hearing his heavy breathing every time he pulled away for air. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he came, and so you decided that you would start making your way to orgasm as well.

One of your arms reached down to your clit, and you began to rub yourself while Carlos buried himself in you. He pulled away from the kiss with a pop, which actually wasn’t as audible, since it was drowned out by the sound of both of your breathing, moaning, and collision of skin.

He buried his head into your neck, a slur of whines, grunts, and moans escaping his lips.

You listened to his voice, closing your eyes, and focusing on reaching your climax. It didn’t take long after he caught on that you were right there, and whispered in your ear, “Do it. Cum on me. Cum on my cock.”

As you came down from your high, you trembled in Carlos’ arms. You noticed he was starting to become shaky himself, and you were a little worried as you felt his hands wobble underneath your bottom. It was likely that his arms were getting tired from holding you up for a prolonged amount of time.

You pulled his head in close, whispering in his ear. As you did, you heard his breath hitch, panting as if he were desperate for air. “Carlos,” you said, “Let me help you cum. What do you need?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but only a moan came out at first. “My back…scratch up my back.”

You listened to what he asked, digging your nails into his skin, softly at first, and then a little more rough once you felt him shiver. He seemed to like it a lot.

He continued, which surprised you a little. You thought he would’ve stopped at his one request, but he didn’t. He must’ve been a needy man. “Kiss my neck,” he huffed, “please, Y/N.”

You followed what he asked, kissing on his neck as you clawed up the muscles on his back. It didn’t take much longer after that, and soon enough his entire body was trembling. He thrust a couple more times into you, grunting as he did, and you felt his cock jerk as he spilled his warm seed into the condom.

As soon as he came, his hands lost most of their grip on holding you, and you unwrapped your legs around his waist, jumping down. You felt him press into you, heaving as if he weren’t getting any air. You smiled and decided to comfort him as he did for you earlier after eating you out.

Pulling him into an embrace, you felt his head rest against the wall, trying to reach your shoulder, but failing as he was too tall. You chuckled and began to rub his back, talking to him in an endearing tone. “You good, Carlos?”

“Yeah–yeah, I’m good.” he huffed, and soon after his response, he pulled back, standing straight as he looked down at you.

“So, was it good? For you, I mean.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

You laughed, reaching up to caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch. “It was really good. The best I’ve ever had, I’d say.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and kissing it, “It was good for me, too. Turns out I really like saving damsels-in-distress. Who knew, huh?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. The two of you then continued your back-and-forth witty remarks, while agreeing on going to wash yourselves off quickly in the showers that were a part of the locker room you just had sex in. As you both bathed in separate stalls, you continued to talk, practically yelling over the bustling of the shower head as the water fell.You hoped no one was nearby outside, because it was likely they would have heard you.

Once finished, the two of you got dressed and grabbed your stuff. Luckily enough, the locker room that you went into was the men’s, so Carlos was able to grab his things from the locker he usually uses when on lifeguard duty.

The two of you then walked out of the building together, acting like a newlywed couple. You teased one another, laughing and joking around as you had the entire night.

Once outside, feeling the chill on your skin, you both paused, not sure where to go from there. You both didn’t really want to go your separate ways.

You desperately wanted to ask for his number, but you weren’t sure how to do so in a witty and playful way. You didn’t want to ask outright, because for some reason, even after all you just did, you worried it would come off as desperate. Even though you were desperate.

You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by Carlos. “Hey, so, if it’s alright with you–you wouldn’t mind me asking for your number, would you?”

You giggled, happy that he was thinking of the same thing. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. I was just thinking of asking the same thing.”

Carlos smiled, and the two of you quickly exchanged numbers. “Make sure to give me a cutesy name and contact photo.” He said playfully grinning at you.

And that gave you an idea. “Hey, why don’t we take a picture right now? That way we both get to have a cute contact photo.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair, and then let you hold your phone up, ready to take the picture.

“Cheese!” you exclaimed, and he laughed as you pressed the camera button.

After taking the photo, you sent it to him straight away. The two of you then realized it was getting late, and you couldn’t drag your time on with one another any longer. You said your goodbyes, and both went in different directions to get into your cars.

As soon as you got into your car, you started it and began to think about your night. Your cheeks blushed, and you immediately grabbed your phone. You had to tell your friends what happened.

Unsurprisingly, they all freaked out on you, exclaiming how they were wondering where you went. You laughed a little, typing out a quick summary. After hitting send, one of your friends began to ask strange questions.

“Jill: Wait, what does he look like?”

Puzzled, you typed out a relatively simple description. After a couple of minutes, your friend responded.

“Jill: Wtf I think I know him”

“Jill: He’s in my science class???”

“Jill: Dude sucks at science lmao”

You were a little taken aback by the revelation of Jill knowing Carlos, although you were a little more shocked at him sucking at science. He seemed like a science-y kinda guy.

As you continued to chat with your friends, you got a notification from Carlos. Your heartbeat quickened, and you wondered what he had to say so soon.

Upon opening the notification, you saw that what he had sent was a screenshot of your contact name and profile picture in his phone – it was the selfie the two of you took, along with the name “Damsel.”

You reply with your own screenshot, which also used the selfie the two of you took, while his name was set to “Phelps.” It didn’t take long for him to reply,

“Phelps: Hey, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to call a gentleman Phelps?”

You laughed out loud, and could already tell you’d be spending the rest of your night talking with Carlos.

Oh well. The night was still young.

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

#carlos oliveira #carlos resident evil #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira fluff #resident evil smut #resident evil fluff #resident evil #resident evil oneshot #kinktober 23 #kinktober #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #instalove #pool boy #re3 remake #size difference #re fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #smut

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idontplaytrack · 1 year ago

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✧ “bye, softie jr.”

Rosa Diaz x teen daughter! reader

warnings: the squad being their usual chaotic selves & rosa being an (over) protective mama. (i love rosa being soft, lol)

in which, the 99 finally meets y/n. unplanned.

continuation to “you’re a softie”

You always wondered how it was possible that no one on the squad’s somehow run into you while you were out with Rosa. Your Mom’s somehow never run into her colleagues outside of work, while she was with you, at least. Due to your closeness in age, the two of you have been mistaken for siblings on many occasions. And on this fine day, you had a first date gone…bad and needed keys to get home. But you left them at home since you left home the same time as Rosa that day to go to school. After school let out at 2:30, you went to lunch with Amelia from your Social Studies class. She was nice, and you liked her- but at the end of the lunch, you’ve come to realise you didn’t actually like her the way you thought you did. Being a 15-minute walk away from the precinct, you decided to use the fact that you needed the house keys as an excuse to mess with her. She wasn’t against you meeting them, thus you your decision to go to the 9-9. Stepping out of the elevator and entering the bullpen, you headed straight for Rosa’s desk barely having to look where you were going.

“Been expecting you. How was the date?”

“Fine, but that was also the last.” You told her and she pulls the one earbud you had in, off. Just for the heck of it.

“Why? Did they do anything-”

“No, I just don’t really vibe with her at all, that’s all. I’m perfectly fine.” You assured.

“Good.”

“I need your keys. Forgot to grab mine since we left together this morning.”

You could feel the eyes on you but you tried to ignore them.

“Here.” She opens up her drawer to get them, “Be home when I’m home. Otherwise, I can’t get in.”

“Of course.” You stifled a laugh, “What time do you clock out?”

“From the looks of it, 6:30? Maybe 7. I’ll pick up dinner on the way, how’s that?”

“That’s great.” You gave her a big smile on purpose just to see how she’d react.

“Hey, Rosa.” Amy says as she walked by you, “Wait—” She stops in her tracks and turned on her heels to take a good look. By now, everyone Rosa worked with was watching. Amy was the last one.

“Who’s this, Roro?” Charles asked.

“Call me that again and I’ll burn your sourdough starter to a crisp.” Rosa threatened. You let a laugh slip- you simply couldn’t take her seriously. She wasn’t like this with you at all- this was an act.

“She looks like she could be your sister.” Terry noted.

“Nope.” Rosa answered, “Try again.” You and Rosa shared a glance. Truthfully, the answer could not have been more obvious if it weren’t for the close age gap. You were pretty much a spitting image of your Mother— thank goodness.

“No way- it can’t be.” Jake broke the silence. Amy analysed Rosa’s face then yours, noting that the two of you had your arms crossed the same, with the same expressions on your face. Even the way you were dressed- heavily influenced by Rosa’s style. A light bulb went off in her mind.

“Rosa, I cannot believe this- you have a teenage daughter and this is first time we’re meeting her?!”

Terry’s mouthful of yogurt felt like it got caught in his throat, Charles nearly spilled his coffee all over himself, Jake’s bag of gummies and jellybeans fell from his hand and hilariously scattered all over the floor. Hitchcock and Scully? As clueless as ever. Solely focused on their bags of chips. Oh, and Gina who immediately snapped a photo of you two side by side. There was pin drop silence in the bullpen up until Holt came out to check on his squad. “Why is it so quiet? This is extremely unlike your usual selves.” He remarked, then he quickly spotted an unfamiliar person— you standing by Rosa’s desk. Now, it got awkward.

“They’ve just met my daughter and they’re shocked.” Rosa informs him.

“I see.” He nodded emotionlessly, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

“Captain Holt. Likewise.” You gave him a polite smile.

“Everybody, get back to work.” He ordered. The buzz continues. “Will you guys wait until I’ve at least left the precinct to talk about me?” You sassed.

“How old are you?” Jake asked.

“17.”

“Damn. Respect, Rosa.” Jake’s eyes widened, “You were 18?!��

“Okay, that’s it. You guys already know too much.” Rosa decided, “No more questions. y/n, go home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You joked.

“Stop it.” She said back, acting cracking a smile.

“Boy, I haven’t seen you this close to smiling since never.” Jake commented.

“I heard you had a date? Who’s the lucky guy?” Boyle asks.

“Charles, right?” You cleared your throat, “I’m a lesbian, so there was no guy.”

“Oh. I- I am so sorry.” He stutters.

“Why are you afraid of a 17-year old?” Rosa snorted.

“Why isn’t she afraid of you?” Charles retorted before he even thought it through.

“I am loving this.” Gina sighs.

“Why would she need to be? We’re practically best friends.” She shrugged. Now, they were even more curious about how Rosa was like outside of work. “Okay, you need to get home.”

“I’m going, I’m going. I know.” You sigh, throwing your hands up in mock defeat, “You’ll pick up my prescription?”

“I remember, y/n, yes.”

The squad says bye to you as you turned to leave. In retrospect, you could’ve easily passed some time at the nearby library and did some work but you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to meet her friends officially.

“Byeee, softie…junior.” Jake called out, causing you to laugh as you hit the elevator button.

#rosa diaz #jake peralta #amy santiago #captain holt #charles boyle #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #alternative universe

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summerplum · 2 years ago

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how will i know -- choso x reader

— you get dumped. its awful and it fucking hurts. you do your best to pick up the pieces of your heart on your own, but find that the trail of tiny red hot shards lead somewhere you wouldn’t expect.

wc : 9 065 [chp1 + epilouge] | ao3 [tags & notes]

-- chp1

”Can you just fuck off already?” The words have been ringing through your head since last night, echoing and repeating, ad infinitum. It’s exhausting. You barely slept a wink, and you’re sure your eyes are both puffy and dark. You couldn’t find it in yourself to go to your classes, having stayed in your bed for most of the day. Your phone is laying next to you, screen open on your unread texts to him, music playing quietly. A small ping interrupts the music, and you sluggishly reach for your phone, holding it to your face. — From : Choso :-) <- Hey, just so you know, Yuuji is coming over later! Is there anything you want me to get from the grocery store? To : Choso :-) -> ah cool -> some ice cream maybe? chocolate if they have it, but any kind is fine. a bottle of coke too please :] i think were almost out of garlic but i can get actual groceries some time later this week From : Choso :-) <;- Okay! I’ll be home in about an hour :-) — It was in fact, not ah cool. While you’ve lived with Choso for almost a year now, and you’ve met his younger brother Yuuji a handful of times, you’d rather die than be seen by either of them in your current state. It’s not that your room is messy, because it isn’t. Almost everything is as you left it when you went out to see him yesterday, except your purse hanging off your desk chair. Besides, you seriously doubt Choso or Yuuji would even see your room, so it’s more yourself that you’re worried about. You feel… disgusting? Like a mess? Revolting? Any adjective with a negative connotation, really. In reality, you probably look fine. Decent. Acceptable. But in your twisted illusion, you can feel the words you vomited out sticking to your body, the tears you shed ingrained into your cheeks, the burning oil of his words spilled on you, tainting your entire existance. It’s not that deep, the snarky voice in your head comments. It was just a lame college relationship, and it was bound to end sooner or later. But it wasn’t just a lame college relationship. You’d been together for three years. Even if he didn’t love you, or even like you anymore, aren’t you owed more than filth, thrown in your face? You sit on your bed, frozen in thought, playing with your bracelet. It feels cold between your finger tips, and you sigh. You need to shower, brush your teeth, remove your makeup, put on normal clothes. Maybe make your bed and do the dishes for good measure. Standing up, you shed your clothes from last night, and grab a towel from your closet. Shower first, everything else later. As you stand at the edge of the shower, waiting for the water to heat up, you plan the coming hour in your head. You have approximatively 50 minutes until Choso is home, and probably an extra 20 until Yuuji arrives. Shower for 30, plenty of time to wallow in self pity, and actually clean yourself up. 2 minutes to brush your teeth, 10 to do an indepth facial cleanse. 8 minutes to pick an outfit that says I am fine. 20 minutes to help Choso unpack groceries, and then do the dishes like the helpful roommate you are. After that, you can retreat to your room to do whatever you want. A perfect plan. After the water has heated up, you stand under the spray, cleansing yourself. You’d like to think you don’t know why you have this inane need to seem well put together in front of your roommate and his 15 year old brother, both of which you’re probably never going to see again after college, but in reality, you know the cause down to a T. It’s an awful habit, there’s no denying it. You’re unsure where it stems from, all you know is that you don’t like it. Self worth is hard to have and even harder to find, you think. So, you simply seek it from wherever possible. Validation, affirmation, appreciation. From your mom, your sisters, your teachers, your friends, strangers on the strees, or even the afformentioned roommate and his brother. It definetly doesn’t help to have been dumped the night before, but alas, there doesn’t seem to be anything you can do about that.

Walking away with a scoff, leaving you to pay for the drinks, ignoring your calls and texts. He doesn’t seem to want anything to do with you anymore. It fucking hurts, of course it does, but what are you supposed to do about it? It’s not like he will appear out of the blue and give you actual closure, so all you can do is try to move on yourself. As you step out of the shower, you wipe the steam off of the mirror. You feel clean. Or at least cleaner. While you brush your teeth, you glance at the small clock that’s standing on the shelf by the door. 5 minutes ahead of schedule. You nod at yourself in the fogged up mirror. I can do this. Can you? I can. I’ve been through worse. Have you? You spit. Spit out the toothpaste, spit at the snide voice in your head, spit at the image of him. You have been through worse, and as cliché and corny as it sounds, you are a strong, independant woman. You wash your face. Cleanse the tears, cleanse the touches, caresses and kisses he had given you, before throwing it all back at you, like both you and the affection he had once shown you was dirt, not even worthy of being stepped on. You resent him. Despise him. It’s unfair, you think, as you walk back to your room. How come he gets to keep living normally, while you don’t? How come you have to crawl through hell and back, and he gets to swagger off into the night, never to be seen again? It’s unhealthy, you think, you know. The smothering, the pushing down of your emotions, the twisted mess of sadness turning into rage. It’s bound to come back and bite you in the ass. You flick through your closet. A tank top and jeans. Normal. Fine. You pull on your clothes, before standing in front of your mirror. Acceptable. Charming maybe? Friendly. Normal girl, who didn’t go through the second worst heartbreak of her life last night. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you frown. You think Choso might know what happened last night. He wasn’t friendly with him exactly, but they’d met about as many times as you’ve met Yuuji. He most likely did not text your roommate that you’d just gotten dumped, but Choso knew of his existance. Your shoes have been in the entryway since you came home last night, but even if he didn’t notice that, it’s an undeniable fact that he heard you sobbing as you came home, sobbing as you laid in bed, and sobbing as he left for class.

You know Choso heard you, because you’ve heard him. Talking to himself while he works on his art projects, the muted voices from a show or movie, discussions with friends. You’ve heard it all, and your crying was definetly louder than all of those, probably combined. Besides, if your roommate leaves home, dressed up and excited to meet her boyfriend, and comes home later, hysterically sobbing and alone, what else could’ve happened? If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck. Duck in question being a miserable and heartbroken 20-something. Your frown has grown in to a scowl. Angry, bitter, hurt. Because you are. As much as you try to convince yourself that you’re fine, you’re not. As much as you want to move on right away, quicker than he can, you can’t. The apartment door opens, and you startle slightly. ”I’m home.” Chosos voice almost echoes through the silent apartment, and you rush out to the common area. ”Welcome home.” His gaze flicks up to you, and you smile slightly, nearly breathless. ”Hi,” he says, breaking eye contact to focus on untying his shoes. ”Hey,” you reply, eyes still focused on him. ”Thanks for getting groceries. I’ll put them away. I can do the dishes too.” Choso looks back up at you from the small bench he’s sitting on. He’s frowning, just slightly. ”Are you okay?” Your eyes widen, and you let out a tense laugh. ”Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” His frown grows, almost turning… pitiful? Compassionate? You don’t know. ”It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, especially with me, but pretending everything is fine won’t do you any good.” You flinch. Read like a book. ”Well, sitting around in my room and crying won’t do me any good either,” you mutter, reaching for the bag. You hear him sigh. ”It might. Good release of emotion and all that.” ”I don’t know if you heard, but I did plenty of emotion releasing last night. I think I’ve probably dried up for the coming year, so.” You walk in to the kitchen, starting to unpack the bag onto the counter. Choso trails after you. ”I heard. I’m sorry for not coming to check on you, wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.” ”It’s fine,” you say, putting the groceries away. ”Probably for the best. Would’ve been a real pain in your ass.” ”I wouldn’t have minded,” Choso mumbles from where he’s leaning against the counter.

You look at him. Try to read him like he read you. He looks earnest. Truthful. Caring. His gaze is warm, but it still makes you shiver. It’s not that he’s making you uncomfortable. If anything, he’s making you too comfortable. You’re not blind. Choso is handsome. Silky dark hair, deep brown eyes that seem to shine violet when the sun hits them just so, charming scar across his nose. Tall, strong, and kind. He’s entrancing, and it makes a clump settle in your throat. He had never liked Choso, but you’d always just assumed it was a childlike jealousy, born from having his girlfriend live with another man. Maybe it was more than that. You feel too comfortable, too soon. It’s staggering. You turn your head, staring out at the small balcony, and the city that lies beyond. ”I… it’s,” you sigh. ”It’s complicated Choso. There are too many emotions and-” ”I know.” ”I don’t want to be a bother to you. I can barely handle it so-” ”Then let me help you.” You look back at him. His eyebrows are furrowed. He looks sad. Sad because you are, not because he feels what you feel. You try to swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat. ”Let me help you,” he repeats. ”Just because it’s hard, or complicated, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to rely on other people.” ”It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, forcing the words from your throat. ”All of it. The way it happened, the way I reacted, the way I hadn’t noticed anything going wrong.” You blink away the tears that are gathering in your eyes. ”I don’t want your help, because I’m fucking humiliated Choso. It’s something I should get over on my own.” You see his throat bob up and down as he swallows, taking in your words. You tense, turning to the kitchen sink. ”I’ll do the dishes, then I’ll stay in my room so you and Yuuji can do whatever.” ”Okay.” You wait for the water to get hot. He isn’t leaving. You swallow. A stray tear runs down your cheek. ”I’m sorry,” you mumble, barely audible over the running water. ”You don’t have to be,” he says as he walks past you, patting your arm. ”Still.”

=========

It’s late. Early? You don’t know. The darkness outside your window has been replaced by a dull, grey light, and you haven’t slept. You haven’t really tried either. The exhaustion and sadness roots down into your very bones, so you don’t see a point in sleeping to get rid of it. You curl in to your sheets. A warmth covers you, but it’s not the kind of warmth you want, the kind you crave. Your phone pings and you pull it towards you, squinting at the screen. It’s 5 o’clock, and you have a text notification. — From : Choso :-) <- Are you going to class today? To : Choso :-) -> idk -> i should but -> eh From : Choso :-)<- Do you wanna join me for breakfast now then? I made enough for either a lunchbox or for now — You let out a breath, dropping your phone back to the mattress. You look up at the ceiling. You think you’ve seen it more than anything or anyone else this week. You get up. The floor is cold when you place your feet down. The air is cold when you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Chosos gaze is warm when he meets your eyes from the dinnertable. ”G’morning,” you mumble. ”Morning,” he says. You sit down opposite him, and he pushes a bowl of chazuke towards you. ”Thanks,” you say. He hums.

You fill up your spoon. Rice, tea, fish. Warmth. Still the wrong kind, but better than the selfmade one of your bed.

”Why’re you up so early?” you ask, muffled by the food in your mouth. He’s seen you do worse, you think. ”Have to be at the studio all day today. Working on an exam piece,” he replies, mumbled around the rim of his tea cup. You hum.

It’s not awkward, it’s just kind of tense. You’re unsure on how to fix it. You don’t think Choso and you are friends exactly. Maybe just good roommates.

He makes dinner, you do the dishes. He’s busy working on a project, you bring him food and snacks at his desk. You get dumped, and he does his absolute best to do whatever he can for you.

Whatever you allow him to do for you.

Which hasn’t exactly been a lot. It’s not like he hasn’t offered. He has, and maybe that’s the problem. It makes you feel weird. A nervous clump in your chest. Stinging your eyes. A tiny spark of warmth in your heart, that you don’t want to permit yourself to think about.

It’s too early, too soon, and he’s too kind, too caring. It scares you. You feel guilty. It’s only been a bit more than a week since he broke up with you.

You want to move on, but it feels wrong. You don’t know why. You don’t want to move on, but that feels wrong too. It’s not like he waited to move on. Your younger sister had told you when you spoke over the phone the other day.

Making out with someone at a party, going home with them, eating lunch with them the following day. Not exactly the actions of someone who feels wrong or guilty.

Maybe you feel guilty because of the circumstances. Maybe it feels like you’d be proving him right. He hadn’t said anything about your relationship with Choso during his tangent, but you feel like you could tell he wanted to.

You scrape up the last of your bowl of chazuke, before pushing it away and resting against the table. You look up at him. His hair is down, held back by a hairband, and you think it makes your heart flutter. You look away, scolding yourself.

”Can I come with you to the studio today?” you ask, and he hums. ”If you want to, yeah,” he says, and you curse him for sounding so warm. You sigh.

”You’re too nice to me Choso.” ”I’m not.”

You stay quiet. You don’t want to argue, and you know he isn’t going to change his mind.

”Are you driving?” ”Was planning to. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad, so.” ”Okay.” ”I was gonna leave in just a bit? If that works for you.” ”Sounds good.”

You look at him again. He looks at you. You don’t know if he ever looked away. It makes a sickly warmth spread through your body, and you don’t know what to do about it. You get up and gather the dishes on the table in to a neat little pile, and carry it to the kitchen sink. Choso stays at the table, but you think you feel his gaze sticking to you, following you. ”I’ll do them when we get home,” you say. ”Okay,” he replies. You turn to look at him. He’s smiling at you, slight but warm, and you think you feel a slight heat rise to your cheeks. ”I’ll get my stuff and then we can leave,” he says as he stands up, before walking to his room. ”Okay,” you reply, following him with your gaze until he’s out of sight. You go back to your own room and change your sweatpants to a pair of jeans, and your hoodie for a t-shirt and flannel. You throw your laptop and notebook into a bag, just in case you find the motivation catch up on your work during the day. A knock. ”You ready?” he calls out, and you meet the gaze of the girl in the mirror. She doesn’t really look like you. Or maybe she does. You don’t really remember, if you’re being honest. She looks normal and you feel like you don’t. ”Yeah,” you reply as you break the eye contact you had with the mirror. Choso is already in the entryway by the time you leave your room, sitting on the bench and pulling on his shoes. You look at him for a bit. He’s hunched over, tying his shoes, and it makes his hair fall down to cover his face from your eyes. Parts of him peek through the silky curtain. His nose, his eyes, his lips. A spark lights up in your chest, but you trample it down as soon as it appears. You can’t. Shouldn’t. Not yet. You slip your feet into a pair of sandals. Choso looks up at you. You look down at him. ”Forecast said it was gonna rain.” ”Just park close to the entrance then.”

He chuckles. The spark you’re pressing down turns to an ember. You try to press it down further. You don’t know if it’s working. The car ride is quiet. Morning news prattle lightly on the radio. Choso drives and you sit next to him. You rest your head against the window. There isn’t much to talk about. You haven’t left the apartment for more than 5 minutes a day the past week, and Choso has been working on his project that he’s been deliberately vauge about since he started it a month ago. The morning news transition into an old rock station. You reach over and turn it up, just a bit. Choso lets out a short hum, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Neither of you speak. There’s no need to. Choso pulls up to the university parking lot, taking the spot closest to the gates, just like you asked him to. You snort, and you think you see a small smile grow on his face. You don’t realize that this was the first time you’d laughed since everything happened. The two of you reach the art departments studio building just as rain starts to fall. He walks to his shared studio and you follow behind. He shows you to his desk and workspace before pulling out the desk chair and urging you to sit down. The stupid ember in your heart keeps sparkling, no matter what you do. You sit down, hoping that Choso can’t tell how quickly you’re falling. As you pull out your phone you hear the studio door open and close before the sound of footsteps stop near where you sit. ”Who’s this?” You look up at the source of the voice, and instantly regret it. A man stands above you with sickening grin on his face. You think you recognize him, though only from rumours around campus. He smiles down at you, and a shiver runs down your spine. ”My roommate,” Choso says from his workspace behind you, and the mans grin widens. You tense. ”Brought her here as a model, did you? Maybe we can share!” The undertone of his voice makes bile rise in your throat. Dehumanizing, like you’re nothing but filth, only worthy of being used, never worthy of being loved. It sounds like *him*, and it makes your eyes sting. You clench your jaw and swallow, trying to think of something, anything, to say. ”She’s kind of been having a shit time, so I brought her here ’cuz she wanted to come. You being a piece of shit and pestering her for no reason sure isn’t helping. Leave her alone.” ”Aw come on Choso, take a chill pill buddy!”

The smile on his face as he speaks is almost nauseating, and you curl in to yourself, doing anything you can to gain an illusion of being out of his sight. ”Are you fucking incapable of listening to people or something? Fuck off.” ”Woah, alright! Take it easy. All yours man.” The man turns around and swaggers out of the studio, and you’re unsure if he even is in the same class as Choso. ”Sorry about him. Loser who only comes to the studio once every month to be annoying,” Choso mumbles as he leans down to grab his materials from his bag ”Oh. Uh… yeah. No need to be sorry,” you reply quietly. He’s close. If he turned his head towards you, you’d be close enough to count his eyelashes. Your stupid, stupid heart is still relentlessly aflame. You can smell his aggrevating eucalyptus shampoo from the bottle that falls down every time you shower. You can see the scrunched tip of his nose as he mutters to himself, digging deeper into his bag in search for something. You can feel his proximity to you. His body heat, his knee bumping against your shin, his presence. It’s overwhelming. And then it’s gone, just like that. Choso stands up and walks back to his workspace and you turn to lay down on his desk, trying to calm your flickering heart. The day continues. At one point you doze off, head resting against the half empty pages of your notebook. You startle awake when Choso places a soda bottle and a bag of chips near your head. ”Lunch,” he says before taking a bite of a protein bar. You hum and stretch in your seat. ”Thanks. Any equally fantastical dinner plans?” you ask, joking. You don’t need him to buy you dinner. ”Might get something from the cafeteria before we leave if that’s cool with you?” ”Oh. Sure,” you reply. He’s buying you dinner. Why is he buying me dinner? Choso gets back to his work, and you attempt to do the same. It makes your flaming little heart burn in a way that stings, the way he so easily, so nonchalantly, takes care of you in a way that makes you fall more and more every single time. It reminds you of him, at the very start of it all, back in your tiny countryside high school. Kindness that is shown in a way that makes you feel special. Kindness that is shown in a way that makes you feel loved. You don’t really get any work done at all. Choso buys you dinner. Because of course he does. It’s nothing fancy at all, just a bowl of gyudon, but he still bought dinner for you. The question of why still bounces around in your head, but you ignore it. The gyudon is good. Maybe you should eat at the cafeteria more often.

It’s a rather quick and quiet affair, dinner. The two of you eat in silence, enjoying but not savouring. It’s late after all. The road is dark and empty as Choso drives the two of you home. A soft jazz tune is playing quietly on the radio, and you pick at your nails. ”You know you don’t have to do,” — you wave your hands in front of you — ”all this, right?” ”This?” Choso questions, mimicking your hand movements slightly above the steering wheel. You clench your jaw. ”Bringing me to your studio ’cuz it’s the first time I’ve been outside in a week. Buying and cooking food for me. Defending me from your weirdo classmates. I don’t know. You don’t have to be so kind to me Choso.” ”I know I don’t have to. I want to.” His answer makes you sigh, and you turn to look out of the window. A slight drizzle has covered the city and you can’t really see further than a meter outside of the car, but you welcome the simulated feeling of isolation and calm. ”I don’t understand why,�� you mumble. ”I don’t get it and it makes me feel weird.” ”Good weird or bad weird?” ”I don’t know. Both?” You pause. ”I’m sorry.” ”You don’t have to be. I’m sorry too.” You see his reflection in the car window. A small confounded frown has taken over his face, and you cringe. At yourself. At how this is exactly what you were worried was going to happen, but you let it happen anyways. ”I care about you. I don’t know exactly what happened but I know that for you to react how you did, it had to be awful. No one deserves that.” His words make your lips tremble, and you turn to look at him. He meets your gaze, if only for a second, before looking back at the road. ”It just pisses me off. You deserve someone who takes care of you, and if that asshole isn’t gonna do it, why don’t I?” You flinch. Flinch at the mention of him, flinch at the way the ember in your chest bursts into a raging bonfire. You flinch at the way Choso says it so nonchalantly, as if he doesn’t realize the way it makes you feel. ”You uh… want to take care of me?” you ask hesitantly. ”Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the easiest question in the world. ”Oh,” you breathe out. ”Yeah,” he repeats.

You look at him again. Try to read him again. He looks sure. Calm. Decisive. Your heart flutters, and you swallow. ”Take care of me how?” you ask quietly, almost scared of hearing the answer. ”Any way you’ll let me,” he says softly, and you frown. ”No, Choso. Don’t… don’t be like that. Please. Just tell me for real.” His throat bobs, and he tenses up. The city lights illuminate his face, blue and orange shining across his cheeks. ”I know you’re just trying to be careful, but it’s unfair Choso. I can’t read your mind. Just be honest with me, please.” ”I meant what I said. However you let me,” he forces out. You sigh. ”Choso,” you mutter. His knuckles whiten against the steering wheel. The car stops abruptly, and you startle, looking out of the window. You’re in your apartment buildings parking garage, and before you can even turn back to look at him again, you hear the car door slam shut. You look to the driver seat. Empty, keys still in the ignition. You look to the back seat. Both yours and Chosos bag rest in the middle, against each other. You grumble to yourself before grabbing the bags and the keys, getting out and locking the car behind you. As you walk in to the stairwell, you hear his footsteps a few floors above you. ”You forgot your bag dumbass!” you yell, and the footsteps stop. As you start walking up, you hear him come down to meet you. He’s standing at the top of the stairs. You look up at him. His eyes are wide, expression unsure. You walk up and past him, slamming his bag into his chest. ”Don’t be a fucking asshole Choso. It’s embarrassing. For both of us.” He sputters, and you keep walking. He follows, two steps at a time, before he catches up to you and grabs your arm. You stop. ”I’m sorry,” he says. ”Okay,” you reply. You pull your arm from his grip. He lets go. ”I’m sorry,” he says again. ”Okay,” you reply again. You keep walking. He follows. He stands behind you as you unlock the door. He sits down on the bench as you slip off your sandals. ”Good night,” you say. He doesn’t reply.

=========

You go to class the next day. If only to make it easier to avoid Choso. A childish solution, you’re sure, but it feels warranted. It might not have been awkward before, but it most definetly is now. You sit on the bus, going home, cramped between the window and an older woman with a kid in her lap. Your text notification sounds out through your headphones, and you shuffle your phone out of your bag, doing your best to not disturb anyone around you. — From : Choso :-) <- Are you home? — You purse your lips and frown down at the screen. Frown at the stupid little emoji he put there on his own as he entered his number into your contact list. Frown at his bluntness. Frown at how the bonfire inside you is still raging, despite Chosos behaviour last night. — To : Choso :-) -> on the bus -> home in maybe 15 From : Choso :-) <- Okay <- Can you let Yuuji in when you’re home? He was going to come over but something came up and I have to stay late at the studio. To : Choso :-) -> okay will do — You debate adding an emoji of some kind, but ultimately decide against it, before shoving your phone back into your bag. If Choso is going to be weird and awkward, you might as well do the same. A small tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to the woman next to you, plucking your headphone from your ear. ”Hm?” She smiles, warm and knowing. You raise your eyebrows. ”It’s better to talk about it, you know?” she says. Your eyes widen. ”Excuse me?” ”Your boyfriend! Fights never get resolved by being ignored.” You sputter. ”He’s not- It’s- We aren’t fighting. And he’s my roommate, not my boyfriend,” you grumble. The lady just laughs. ”All right, all right. My point still stands,” she says, before putting the child in her lap down on their feet and standing up herself. ”You need to be honest with yourself too, young girl.”

Her parting words are soft, and you sink into your seat as she walks away.

As you tredge up the final steps to your apartment you spot Yuuji sitting by the door. You cringe. It’s definetly been over a year since the floors were cleaned. And you’ve also never been any semblance of alone with Yuuji. You don’t really know how to deal with teenage boys.

You take off your headphones as you walk up to him. Yuuji looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps and shoots up to stand as he realizes it’s you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds.

”Hi,” you say. ”Hey!” he exclaims. ”Uh, Choso told you what’s up right?”

You almost laugh. Because he did, but he also very much didn’t.

”Yeah,” is what you end up saying. You don’t need to vent about your issues to someone who views the person you’re having issues with as the best brother in the world.

”Cool,” Yuuji says, and silence takes over again. You fiddle with the strap of your bag and Yuuji scuffs his shoes against the floor.

”Do you- Um, we can go to the store. If you want anything to eat, or something. While you wait,” you say.

How the hell do you even talk to people? ”Oh! Uh, I don’t have any money though.” ”I’ll pay.” ”Ah okay then!”

You nod and Yuuji smiles. You try to smile back but it feels tense and weird. You hope he doesn’t question it.

”There’s a corner store just a minute away, they have snacks and food and stuff. We…”

You pause. We. As if you and Choso are a unit. A pair. A couple.

”There is some stuff at home but I don’t mind treating you to whatever,” you say. ”Cool,” he says again.

You nod, and start walking back down the stairs. Yuuji follows behind. You clench the strap of your bag tightly the entire walk.

Why are you doing this? You could’ve easily just let him in and then retreated to your own room and left him to watch TV or hang out in Chosos room.

You’re not friends with Yuuji. Barely even aquaintainces, and definetly not ”bring him to the corner store” close. You feel dumb. Weird.

As the two of you walk into the store, Yuuji speaks up.

”Y’got a spending limit? ”Uh. Don’t get more than you’d pay for with your own money, I guess?” you reply. ”Sweet!”

He takes off between the aisles, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake. You follow behind, meandering around the store. After a minute or two Yuuji appears before you, a ramen cup, a bag of chips and a bottle of soda in his hands. ”Is this okay?” he asks. ”Yeah. I’ll grab something too, hold on.” You walk to the refrigerators and pick out an onigiri and a soda bottle. ”Y’didn’t eat lunch?” Yuuji asks, hovering over your shoulder. ”Uh. I did, just didn’t want you to feel awkward. Or whatever,” you mumble as you turn to walk to the register. ”Oh, cool.” The two of you put down your stuff on the register desk and you give a small smile to the cashier. Yuuji stands behind you, looking around at the stuff behind the register. ”What a nice sister you have!” the cashier says to Yuuji as you tap your card against the reader. Twice in a day now. That you’ve been mistaken for having some actual connection to Choso. It didn’t use to happen this often did it? Do you carry yourself differently after all that’s happened? ”Ah, she’s just my brothers roommate,” Yuuji replies. You huff out a quiet laugh. Yeah. Just Chosos roommate. The cashier hums. You think you see a knowing glint in his eyes. You sink into the collar of your jacket as you grab your things, before moving to the eating area of the store. As Yuuji heats up his cup noodles, you get started on your onigiri. You had actually forgone lunch, solely because you know that Choso often eats in the campus cafeteria. Once again, childish, and once again, would be weird to mention to your current company. ”Just didn’t want you to feel awkward.” A lame excuse if there ever was one, but you trust that Yuuji and yourself aren’t close enough for him to question you. The two of you eat. You attempt some smalltalk. You ask him about school. Yuuji tells you about his exams and exchange events. You nod along. He asks you about school. You tell him about your major. He seems interested, but you can’t really tell if he’s just trying to be polite. The two of you leave the store and begin the short walk back. ”You’re smart right?”

The question comes almost out of nowhere and you stop in your tracks before turning to look at Yuuji. ”Uh, I guess?” you say. You don’t know what Yuuji classifies as smart. ”Okay so like, if I do my homework while waiting for Choso would you help me if I get stuck?” he asks, if only slightly awkwardly. ”Oh. Uh, yeah sure. Can’t promise I’ll be that helpful but I can try.” When you get home the two of you sit down at the dinner table, you with your laptop and Yuuji with his schoolbooks. He asks you a question now and then, and you help to the best of your ability. Occasionally you read him a passage of your essay to see if it flows how you hope it does, and he laughs at how little he understands. You smile, just slightly. Yuuji is nice. Choso comes home eventually. The rusty orange of the sunset shines through the balcony windows. Yuuji springs up from his seat and hugs his brother before heading to the couch and turning on the TV. Choso is about to go over to join him before he stops and turns to you. ”Thanks, for uh,” Choso says, gesturing behind him at Yuuji who’s busy setting up the video game they’re going to play, ”keeping him company.” ”Yeah, no problem,” you reply. ”He’s a good kid.” Something takes over Chosos face when the words leave your lips. You’re still not great at reading him. Sentimentality maybe? Melancholy? Satisfaction or pride? Maybe all of them at the same time. ”Yeah. He is.”

=========

It’s been a week. Things are more or less back to normal. Whatever normal means. The cool wind plays across your face as you look down at the street below. Choso joined you on the balcony about five minutes ago. Something in your head tells you he wants to say something. Something important. So you stay silent. You haven’t looked at him since he opened the door and quietly asked if it was okay for him to be here. You had turned your gaze back to the city before nodding. You feel him next to you, prescence overwhelming, your arms touching, just slightly. You interlock your own fingers, picking at your nails. You hear him swallow, preparing to speak, and you lean your head further over the railing. ”I think I fell in love with you before you even moved in here,” Choso says. You swallow and chew on your lip, still unable to raise your gaze from your own entwined hands. ”I saw you. At the party after the opening week. You… um, you were with him, but I just… couldn’t tear my eyes off of you. You looked so pretty and so happy and I just couldn’t stop staring at you. Was surprised neither of you noticed.” You finally look at him. He’s leaning his back against the balcony railing, face tilted up against the stars. Chosos ears are red and it makes heat rise to your cheeks. You look back down at the city streets below. ”He went off to get new drinks or something and,” he swallows. ”You looked at me. And then you smiled. I don’t even think it was for more than a second, but you looked me in the eyes and smiled.” You feel his gaze shift to you. ”I think I’ve been in love with you since then.” You look at him. The stars are reflecting in his eyes. You almost feel nauseous from the intense affection in your chest. ”That’s like a year and a half ago Choso,” you mumble. ”Yeah.” You let out a breath before turning back to the city. ”Um, I don’t mind covering rent for a month or two,” he mutters. You look up at him again. ”If you wanna move out, I mean. I get it. It’s weird and creepy of me to even have accepted you as a roommate, let alone having liked you like this for so long, so really, I understand if you-” You grab his hand. Choso looks at you. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks so nervous and so endearing and so pretty. ”I like you, Choso.” You blink. His mouth is opening and closing, trying to find words, as the blush spreads across his face. ”Oh.” ”Yeah,” you say, tilting your head. ”Like me? Or just like me?” ”I like you.” ”Oh.”

You let go of his hand before pressing your palm against his, interlocking your fingers. He squeezes your hand. You smile and squeeze back.

=========

Choso isn’t your boyfriend. You aren’t Chosos girlfriend. Too soon you’d said. I’ve been waiting a year and a half, what’s a bit longer Choso had replied. But still, something in the air has undoubtedly shifted. One day you come home from class just as Choso leaves the bathroom after his shower. He’s fully dressed, just some sweatpants and a T-shirt, yet you can’t help but stare. Eventually your eyes meet his and he gives you a small grin as he dries his hair. You look away, face as hot as your burning heart. One night you leave your room to get a glass of water before bed. Choso is sitting on the couch, playing a video game on low volume. As you open your door his eyes flick to yours and then down to your legs. Your bare legs. His eyes snap back up to yours and then quickly move back to the television as a blush spreads across his cheeks. You huff out a small laugh as you walk past him to the kitchen. After you finish your glass of water and go to head back to your room you instead take a seat on the armrest of the couch, next to where Choso is sitting. He looks up at you and you smile before reaching and running your hand through his hair. So many unspoken words shine in his eyes and your smile grows shy. You lean down quickly and press a short kiss to the corner of his mouth with a whispered ”g’night.” As you stand up Choso lightly grabs the hand you’re pulling out of his hair before softly kissing the inside of your wrist. Heat rises to your cheeks as your eyes meet his once again. Choso repeats your simple sentiment and you give him a nod before returning to your bedroom. You barely sleep that night, spending multiple hours rubbing the spot he’d kissed as you imagine how his lips would feel against yours. One afternoon the two of you are grocery shopping together, huddled closely together, inspecting the produce. You see an older woman steal a glance at you before tapping her husbands shoulder and gesturing to Choso and yourself. ”Remember when we were that young?” she asks him. He laughs. ”Of course I do.” You glance up at Choso and find his ears are as red as the bell pepper you’re holding in your hand.

One evening you and Choso are on the way home from going out with a few friends when you tell him you’re going to pop in to the convenience store really quick, and he tells you that he’ll wait for you outside. When you leave the store you find Choso outside, talking to a girl. As you approach, her eyes widen before she falls into a short bow and takes off. ”Never took you for a womanizer Choso,” you joke, taking a bite of pocky before offering the stick to him. ”She wasn’t hitting on me,” he mumbles as he chews. You snort. ”Sure she wasn’t.” You grab his hand and the two of you start walking home. ”No, really. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on,” he muses, rubbing his thumb along your fingers. ”I find that hard to believe,” you say, bumping against him, teasing. ”What do you mean?” he asks simply. You flush. ”Well… you know. You’re handsome,” you mutter. ”Oh.” You’re not sure if the response of simply gripping your hand tighter and burrowing into the collar of his jacket, muttering something you can’t make out is because he was in fact unaware of his own attractiveness or the fact that it was you who said the words. One day you text Choso. He replies straight away, even though you know he’s in class. — To : Choso :-) -> do u have plans today? From : Choso :-) <- Just my classes <- Was there anything you had on your mind? To : Choso :-) -> wanna go out? -> like on a date i mean -> we can stay in too if youd rather do thay -> that -> i just thought we cpuld talk maybe -> could -> so yeah -> lmk —

As soon as you press send on the final message you throw your phone down on the bed next to you and bury your face in your pillow. You don’t dare look at the screen. You stare at a tiny hole in the wall. Minutes pass. He’s in class you rationalize. Choso slams his phone down on the table as soon as he sees the word ”date” in your texts. As he sinks down in his chair he puts his face in his hands, feeling the blush spread from the tip of his nose all the way to his ears. His seatmate throws a questioning glance his way and the professor keeps talking but all he can think about is you. — From : Choso :-) <- Yeha sounds good! <- Yeah* <- My class is over in an hour if you want to meet up somewhere near campus? Otherwise I can come pick you up at home :-) To : Choso :-) -> does the park by campus sound ok? -> ill come meet u at the gates if thats fine From : Choso :-) <;- That’s fine! <- I can’t wait :-) To : Choso :-) -> me neither <3 — After sending the message you spring off your bed and hurry into the shower. You do your best to be as quick but also as thorough as possible. As you stand in front of your closet, wrapped in your towel, a thought pops in to your head. I want to look pretty. A thought you haven’t had since that one fateful meeting with him. You don’t want to call it a date. It hardly qualified as one anyways. I want to look pretty for Choso.

The simple specification makes heat rise to your cheeks. It feels easy, the soft, almost innocent affection you feel for Choso. You don’t dare think of what you feel as love, not yet, and you definetly don’t dare to say it out loud. However, despite the softness and the innocence, there is another aspect to your affection. A decidedly less soft and innocent aspect. You hesitate to call it something as simple as attraction, but can’t imagine calling it something as loaded as lust. Alas, something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that he won’t be able to take his hands off you. Something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that he’ll fall speechless the second your eyes meet. Something inside you yearns to look pretty enough that Choso will be yours, forevermore. You talk to your older sister on the phone while you do your makeup. She teases you relentlessly as you beg her for advice but you can hear the loving smile in her voice. For the entire busride you bounce your knee and pick at your nails. Your mind is running at the speed of light and you can’t seem to stop it, no matter how hard you try. Will you be my girlfriend? Can you be my girlfriend? Do you want to be my girlfriend? You try to imagine how he’ll phrase the inevitable question. A different scenario pops into your head. Please be my boyfriend, won’t you? Heat rises to your cheeks and you sink down into your seat. Be my girlfriend, yeah? He had charmed you at the time, you can’t deny that. The nonchalant words mixed with the slight eagerness in his eyes. But Choso won’t do that. As conceited as it makes you sound, you know that he won’t. He’s been waiting for you for too long, he would never be so careless about it. He meets you at the bus station, breathing heavily, sweat gathering at his brow. You glance at the small clock on your wrist. His class ended just a minute ago. You crack a smile as his eyes meet yours. ”I wouldn’t have minded waiting y’know,” you tell him as the two of you begin the short walk to the nearby park. ”Still,” Choso says as his breathing calms down. ”I never wanna make you wait.” "Unfair," you say, bumping your arm against his. "I've made you wait plenty of times." "Hm, well. Call it a special privilege." He doesn't elaborate on if the privilege is his or yours.

The park is quiet, a calm wind playing through the trees. You and Choso walk around for a bit, talking about nothing and everything. His class, your upcoming presentation, Yuujis exams. Groceries, favourite foods, pastries. Eventually the two of you sit down on a small bench under a willow tree, facing a pond. A family of ducks float across the surface, maneuvering between lilypads and reeds. Both of you know what you came here to do, but neither of you seem to know exactly how to do it. A few minutes pass in silence, broken by Chosos hand coming down to rest over yours. You look up from the pond and meet his eyes. Nervous and wide, yet more sure than you’ve ever seen them. Deep pools of dark brown with a tiny hint of a moody violet. ”Can I be your boyfriend?” Oh. Oh. You can’t find the words, so you just nod. So kind, so gentle, so humble. Not asking, not offering, not demanding. A simple request, one that you’d fulfil time and time again, through eons and lifetimes. You love him. I love him. ”I love you,” you mumble. Chosos cheeks bloom into a glowing red, and you feel the tips of your ears heat up similarly. You’re Chosos girlfriend. Choso is your boyfriend.

-- epilouge

It’s hot out. The cicada song and sunshine overwhelms your senses, but Chosos warm hand in your cold one grounds you as you walk up to your childhood home among the rice fields. You don’t hate the countryside, not at all. You just don’t think you were particularly made for it, at least not with how you live your life right now. Your sisters meet you on the porch, Namie, your older sister living at the house halftime and your younger sister Rei having left as soon as her classes ended and she was on break, two days before you and four days before Choso. Rei and Choso exchange waves and small greetings, having met a handful of times before back in the city. As you introduce him to Namie, Choso falls into a deep bow and quietly promises that he’ll take care of you. Your sisters just laugh, but both yours and Chosos cheeks are as warm as the searing summer sun. Your mother and her husband are still on a business trip, their promised arrival being a week after yours. Choso had been relieved when you told him he wouldn’t be meeting your entire family at the same time. Chilled glasses of ice tea sit on a tray in the living room, freshly poured by your grandfather as the four of you take your seats. He spends the better half of an hour interrogating your boyfriend while you rest on the engawa with your sisters. It’s nice to be home. Even if anywhere you are with Choso is home, you feel like bringing him here shows him how he makes you feel. His eyes meet yours through the open sliding doors and you hope and pray he understands how much it means to you that he’s here and he’s yours. A sliver of a grin grows on his face and you let out a content sigh. Dinner is short and sweet, most of the evening instead being spent on drinks and board games. Choso wins the first round and your grandfather mutters beginners luck under his breath, but you can see the small smile on his face. Namie retreats to her room after five rounds, your grandfather after seven and Rie after eight.

You and Choso stay downstairs for a while, just sitting in silence. As much as you love to speak with him, you also love how you never need to. The wind chimes play a soft melody as you stand up and pull Choso up from his seat, guiding him to your room. He gets into bed before you, half covered by the sheets. His eyes never leave you as you get undressed, and as soon as you step closer to the bed he pulls you down on top of him, brushing his lips against yours. You can taste the lemon sake you drank earlier mixed with the subtle mint of his toothpaste and grapefruit of your lip balm. He lets go of you after just a second or two, and you sink down against him. ”Can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me in my childhood bedroom,” you whisper against the crook of his neck. He hums. ”Is it working?” You laugh quietly before pressing a short kiss to his lips. ”Maybe. Pervert.” Neither you nor Choso are particularly affectionate with your words. You know he loves you and he knows you love him. But the words are rarely spoken out loud. The last time you told him was after he asked to be your boyfriend and the last time he told you was nearly three months after that, when the two of you had gone out on Christmas Eve. However, this seemingly normal summer night, quiet and warm, evidently brings out waves upon waves of whispered confessions as your bodies move against each other, skin to skin and heart to heart. It’s hot, almost boiling. The sweltering summer air blowing through your open window, Choso holding you tightly to his chest and the feeling of his body heat against your sticky skin. You’d noticed it after just a week of actual dating. Choso always runs hot. You run your hands through his hair as you grind down against him. He looks up at you before leaning up and kissing you. His lips are slightly chapped and burning, marking yours with an almost frantic obsession. ”I’m,” you gasp. ”I’m so fucking in love with you.” The words are mumbled against his lips, like a secret only the two of you are privy to. ”M-me too,” Choso murmurs, trailing off into a quiet whimper. ”I love you so much.” Between the whispers and pants, you hear the muted sound of crickets outside. ”Never wanna leave you,” he says softly. ”Me neither,” you answer, not even having to think about it.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader

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bqstqnbruin · 10 months ago

Text

Trevor Zegras Teacher AU

Ok, it's bedtime (it's 1:30 oops)

Teacher AU Series

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to divorce

WC: 814

________________

Back To School Night shouldn’t be a thing.

Irene had strong feelings against having to stay at school until 9:30 at night after teaching all day, and still having to show up for school again the next day just so parents can spend ten minutes talking to her about the school year. She didn’t even talk for the full ten minutes; she was done introducing herself and the classes she taught half way through and then the parents essentially just stared at her for the rest of the time until the principal came over the loud speaker and said it was time to move on.

The night as a whole made her anxious.Talking to parents was totally different than talking to their children. She could spend the entire hour of class everyday with her students without issue, but ten minutes with her parents and she broke out into a nervous sweat.

Irene looked at her watch, the time showing that she still had about twenty minutes before she was able to leave since admin wanted the teachers to stay back and clean everything up while allowing the parents time to get out of the mess that was their parking lot. It was a load of bullshit, but they really didn’t have much choice anyway; the teacher lot was furthest from the exit, so if they didn’t stay inside, they would be in their cars for the same amount of time.

“Ms. Parker?” her student, Audrey, pokes her head into her classroom. “Can I hang out in here for a bit?”

“Of course, but aren’t you and your mom heading out?”

Audrey shrugs, sitting at the desk she sits in for class. “She said she needed to talk to Mr. Zegras about something.”

Irene tried to hide the confused look on her face. Trevor wasn’t one of Audrey’s teachers, so she wasn’t sure why her mom would need to talk to him. “Why don’t we head down to Mr. Zegras’s room and see if they’re almost done. Your mom won’t know where to find you if you’re hiding out in here.”

She knew Trevor well enough to know that he didn’t just talk to random parents that weren’t those of his students, especially when that conversation was the thing that stood between him and going home. Something was up and she wasn’t sure what.

Irene and Audrey make their way to Trevor’s classroom, Irene peeking through the window in his door to see Trevor and Audrey’s mom.

Irene whips around, trying to cover the window so the student in front of her can’t see in. “It looks like they’re still talking, so you text your mom, and I’ll text Mr. Zegras to let them know you’re here with me.”

Audrey nods, not noticing or not acknowledging the obvious panic that Irene had on her face. She watches as her student heads back to her classroom, turning one last time to see through the window, making sure that what she saw was really happening: Trevor was kissing Audrey’s mom in his classroom, where any student or parent still roaming around could see them.

She was infuriated at him, and she didn’t know why it affected her so much.

Back in her room, Audrey is back in her seat, playing on her phone.

“So, kid, what’s been going on this year?”

Audrey sighs, not looking up from her phone. “My dad got remarried this summer.”

Irene nods, remembering the conversations she had with Audrey when her dad got engaged. “Did you end up going to the wedding?” Audrey nods. “And?”

She shrugs. “I’m glad I went, but I don’t know how I feel about the whole thing, you know?”

Irene didn’t know, but she nodded anyway. Before she could say anything else, Audrey’s mom and Trevor appear in the doorway, clearly looking slightly more disheveled than they normally should.

“Hey, Aud, ready to go home?” her mom asks, pulling Audrey in for a side hug before saying goodbye to Irene and Trevor.

Irene glares at Trevor as he takes Audrey’s seat, a stupid grin on his face. “You’re an idiot.”

Trevor looks at her, shocked. “I’m sure you’re right, but why?”

“What are you doing, hooking up with Ms. Gonzalez in your classroom on Back To School Night?”

“Hey, woah,” Trevor says, putting his hands up, “Nothing we did was that bad.”

“You hooked up with a parent when there were other parents and students still walking around.”

“God, Mom, it was all consensual.”

Irene rolls her eyes, the anger in her growing with everything he said. “Audrey is dealing with her dad just getting remarried. What’s going to happen if she has to deal with a teacher at her school dating her mom?”

Trevor rolls his eyes at her this time. “I’m not dating Sandra.”

“What is the matter with you?”

Trevor slaps his hands down on the desk, making Irene jump. “Look, Ney-ney,” he said, using the nickname he almost never called her. “She wanted to make out, so I did it. It was fun. The person I want to hook up with doesn’t want that with me, so what do you want me to do?”

Irene looks at him. “Who?” Trevor looks at her, a pleading look on his face telling her he didn’t want to say it.

He didn’t have to.

“Oh.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras fic #anaheim ducks #anaheim ducks fic #anaheim ducks au #nhl #nhl fic #nhl au #hockey #hockey fic #hockey au #ducks #ducks fic #ducks au #teacher au

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sturniolooobsessed · 2 months ago

Text

Vamp!Chris

- Friday 7:34pm

You’re in your room listening to music, desperately trying to study for this stupid biology test you have on Monday. This is a big test it goes towards your end of year grade you need to do well. You’re hair is thrown up into a makeshift bun that looks like you’ve slept on it for 2 days straight and you have to gently hit your head every few minutes to keep your eyes from closing, lets just say its been a week.

you’re about to throw the towel in shut your laptop and call it a night when your phone buzzes

Alice ~ y/n party tonight at jens, i’ll pick you up at 9 :)

Y/n ~ alice, i really cant i have to study rn :( sorry

Alice ~ too bad you’re coming i’ll be there at 9, i’ll drag you there myself if i have to. Wear something cute :)

You sigh and fall back into your bed accepting your fate. You’ve never been one for partying, the whole getting drunk and obnoxious thing has never been your vibe but honestly theres nothing you need more with the amount of stress you’re under. yeah you have you’re test which should be taking up all the room in your brain but your dad decided to be a cop so you cant help but be worried every time he leaves the house. So a party sounds good.

9pm

Alice ~ here !

you hear her slam on her car horn at least ten times while impatiently waiting for you so you quickly check you have everything you need, leave a note for your dad and run out the door. You’re wearing black shorts with a black shirt that has flowy pieces of fabric that look like jelly fish stingy-things on both sides, and your knee high boots with both your thigh and spine tattoo on show. You look hot. “was your dad giving you the “be safe” speech again?? what took so long” Alice says in a high pitched almost nervous tone “no no he’s at work, i was making sure i had my shit but im ready now lets go”

11pm

you’ve been here for 3 hours and you are wasted. 5 shots and 2 vodka-cokes in and you’re so close to going upstairs and falling asleep in whoever’s bed you find. Alice has been flirting with a girl since you guys got here smiling, laughing the whole thing so about 20 minutes ago you left them alone and god knows where they are now and honestly you don’t wanna know. You stumble upstairs trying to find a bathroom to sit in for a while (drunken dizziness is NO joke) You’re actually seeming pretty stable and put together until the last step, you’re platform boots are never your friend when you’re drunk yet you wear them ever time. You stumble over and land on the red carpet of whoevers house this is and start giggling to yourself. Drunk you thinks this is the funniest shit ever.

“girl you good?” you hear someone ask you through a small laugh “yeah yeah im fine” you say through laughing, even harder now. You look up and see Nick, he’s in some of your classes in school biology, english and probably some other ones you couldn’t remember if your life depended on it right now. “Oh hey nick” you say through a sleepy yawn. “Hey” he pauses for a second then asks “Y/N how much have you had to drink you look like you’re on the brink of falling asleep and its like 11:30” “oh ya know just some little glasses….and big glasses…and other peoples glasses” Nick stares down at you and even in his tipsy state he knows you gotta get home. He nudges Matt who’s standing against a wall beside him and says something about pulling the car around. Nick helps you up and keeps his arm under yours to keep you from falling while he tries to get you to their minivan “You’re silly nick” you mumble as your practically being carried out of the party he hums in response not even listening as he says bye to people while you’re walking out.

You get to the car and he straps you in the back seat before he hops in the front beside matt while you’re curling up into a ball and look like you’re turning the back seat into a cosy couch. You hear matt cursing under his breath saying something about Chris. The other brother who you’ve never talked to let alone saw in school, but you knew he existed because you heard is name being called in attendance every morning in homeroom before being marked absent. Your ears perk up out if interest because honestly you were starting to believe the guy was a myth. “Chris come on we’re leaving lets fuckin go” you hear matt say over the phone pure annoyance in his voice. through the static and loud music from the other end yiu hear a shouted “alright alright im coming”

The passenger door opens and you see Chris he’s pale with messy hair and has a black t shirt on which in your drunk state you don’t hate. “cmon man that my seat up” he says to nick impatiently “Nope. maybe if you were here sooner you’d have gotten it but you weren’t. also you know i get motion sickness when im drunk this helps, now get in the goddamn car chris” Chris slams the door harder than he needed to and goes to the back “ Um. who tf?” he looks forward to nick seeming tired and confused “thats y/n shes drunk now get in so we can bring her home” without questioning it further he gets in the car staring at you as matt drives off to make sure you’re breathing.

you’re still curled up on the brink if passing out when you feel his eyes on you like they’re goddamn laser beams. you turn your head slowly in an attempt to not bring the dizziness back, and meet his eyes. While you usually would have froze and started nervously spitting random facts out as you always do when you get nervous, drunk you has a serious attitude. “can i help you??” you ask in an unamused taunting tone looking up at chris with half open eyes. “just making sure you’re not dying in the back seat of my car” “MY car” matt chimes in. “word” you shout pointing at matt like he just helped you win the nonexistent argument you and Chris are having. Chris lets out a breathy laugh while turning towards the window while you get back to trying to fall asleep.

About 10 minutes later you start feeling nauseous, literally the worst timing in the world, “um hey matt” you mumble from the back “yeah whats up?” he replies glancing at you then back to the road. “m’gonna throw up” “HUH?” you hear nick yell from the front “alright don’t worry im pullin over” matt says sounding overly concerned. The second the cars off the road you’re out and throwing up. Nick yells at Chris to get out and help you since he’s closest. He hops out of the car and stands awkwardly behind you asking if you’re okay, you nod a little but are still throwing up while knelt over the trunk of a fallen tree, looks like they pulled up near some creepy forest area. “CHRIS H-E-L-P, HELP HER” Nick screams from the front seat, he doesn’t do well with gross things so he’s evidently freaking out “I AM NICK STFU” he kneels down beside you and holds your hair until the nausea passes and you can catch your breath. “you okay?” he says quietly so only you can hear, you turn your head to look at him and are surprised when he actually seems concerned his eyebrows furrowed and eyes almost squinting as if he’s searching for any sign to be worried about you “yeah yeah..im good now sorry” “hey don’t apologize i cant count how many times i’ve been in your position” you both let out a quiet laugh and he helps you up.

As you’re standing you catch you’re leg off the stupid fallen tree trunk and it cuts right through your calf “ugh fuck” you wince in pain and look up at Chris with a smile trying to make the situation lighter so you don’t seem like an complete mess. Chris’s eyes immediately darken as he looks down at you’re leg you could have sworn you saw them change color “you okay? its just some blood” you ask with concern he rips his hand off you and locks it to his nose as if he’s blocking the smell of something. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “get out of here” Chris says just loud enough for matt and nick to hear, its almost like he’s trying to keep everyone calm. Matt and Nick look out to see chris and the state he’s in when both of their eyes widen.

They run out of the car and tell you to get in so you do. You’ve seen horror movies so whatever’s going on, you’re not giving it anytime to hurt you. By the time Matt and nick get to where you and Chris were standing Chris is gone. They stay there for like 10 second looking very serious and talking quietly to make sure you don’t hear. They get back in the car and don’t say a word. Theres silence for a whole minute, you’re now sat up in the middle seat feeling completely sobered up from whatever the fuck just happened nick is looking at matt every few seconds with a worried and anxious look on his face when finally you speak up “okay what the fuck is going on???” you’re met with silence just when you’re about to ask again matt chimes in “Don’t worry about it you wont remember any of this tomorrow” Looking you dead in the eye with a piercing stare that makes it feel like his eyes hurt to look at, its almost like he put you into a trance, you fall asleep almost immediately and when you wake up you’re at home in bed.

3am

You wake up like you’re waking up from a nightmare you cant remember. You’re hyperventilating and your body feels like it hasn’t gotten oxygen in hours. you flick on your lamp and reach for your phone on your nightstand *who the fuck brought my stuff inside. Who the fuck brought ME inside* you think to yourself as you unlock your phone you start looking up symptoms of alcohol poisoning because theres no other explanation for anything that happened tonight. When you’re unsuccessful in finding an answer through google you turn to your comfort show that will without a doubt calm you down. The Vampire Diaries. You’re half asleep when you hear a woman screaming through the tv, as usual with this show, you turn the volume down and get comfortable in bed already crazy sleepy. That show is like melatonin. When the thought enters your mind. you never see him around. anywhere not at school, usually not at parties hell you didn’t even see him at tonights one until he was in the car with you. He ran away when he saw your blood. He covered his nose like he didn’t want to smell something. He ran away in .5 seconds. and there was absolutely no explanation from either nick or matt. you also felt like Matt had put a spell on you when he said you wouldn’t remember anything tomorrow. You sat up faster than you ever have, before your heart is racing and you’re hyperventilating once again you look around your room when you see your tv, tvd is still playing and right now Damon is compelling some stupid girl into helping him do something. The thought attacks your brain and body. Theres no way, its a myth, they aren’t real, im over reacting, its a fucking tv show, maybe they’re just freaks, this isnt real. The thoughts whip around your head as you tey to get a grip and pull yourself back to reality. Without giving yhe reasonable side of your brain yiu grab a notebook and start scribbling everything down. Every single detail you can remember from the drive home because if you were right. if they were real. it would mean Matt compelled you and by tomorrow all of this would go back to being a stupid tv show.

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

Part 1

Hope you guys like this :)

not proofread sorry if theres mistakes xoxo

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #vampire #tvd universe #fanfic #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris stuniolo x reader

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stqrmyskies · 5 months ago

Note

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

for your Link and Zelda :)

- hero-of-the-wolf

no voice claim! they both speak softly though

zelda and link are both each others best friends, bonus is impa when they meet her :)

riptide for link (i wonder who about /j), apple pie (lizzy mcalpine) for zelda

would you fall in love with me again and first love/late spring :) (for each other)

nope

zelda and link would both be in high school still, but zelda would want to be a history major and link would want to be a veterinarian!

n/a

zelda likes to read and link likes to bake / cook

both are fit and generally healthy, but when they get sick they get sick baddd

both suffer from anxiety, and get in depressive ruts quite often but they have a good support system in their village

wind waker, twilight princess, and breath of the wild is where i got most of my ideas from id say

zelda w/ key (mirensiart’s oc) and link with pen (chiangyorange) (ofc they would be friends with yours but i haven’t made them interact yet 💔)

ganon (when link got kidnapped)

also ganon

life never ends when you’re a princess 💔 (link would be her knight until he’s her prince consort)

link’s parents are dead. zelda is awkward with her mom and dad and prefers to be with her uncle who raised her

n/a

zelda is she/her and link’s he/him

both are straight sksksm they are both acts of service and physical touch for giving and receiving

both use swords, though zelda is an archer and will also occasionally use magic

idk ngl

both fight for love (lovers)

link would not (he’s eepy), zelda would but she’d be dead tired

link can play cello and zelda can play piano (don’t ask me how they got these, they exist in botw don’t they-) and they both sing very well :D

zelda yes, link no (he’s shy)

lavender for link, sunflowers for zelda

birds i think but im not sure

shy smart art kids probably (im tired so i wont draw it rn)

things they like idk (brain cells have gone bye)

zelda: yay!! link: yay?

yippee i got through them all

@hero-of-the-wolf

#stormy rambles #ask!#lovely emmie #ask game #loz ocs #secretmemory #secret & memory loz ocs #loz memories of secrecy #loz #zelink #that took five years to answer sorry 😭

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pretty-chaotic-world · 2 years ago

Text

if my BPD can scream

1. I wish i could have a normal love... but no, my brain wants to worship every little detail of you until it drives me insane

2. sorry i pushed you away i felt abandoned and suicidal

3. I’m sick of going to bed and knowing things won’t be better tomorrow

4. I'll ask you thousands times if you really love, please don't get annoyed

5. I'll create "drama" and mishaps only to feel like I'm in home

6. i’m afraid that one day my anger will overshadow the little love i still have left for the world

7. I feel numb. No tears, no anger, nothing. Just going through the same day again and again. I would rather just sleep without waking up.

8. I'm so tired of everytime one small argument or inconvenience breaks out I want to end it and self destruct, it's so draining.

9. I want to stop feeling anything and when i actually don't it breaks my heart but I can't cry it out.

10. "its all in your head" well duh where tf else is it gonna be??? in my fucking kidneys????

11. I am constantly between wanting people to care about me and wanting them not to so I can hurt myself without feeling guilty

12. Psychiatrist told me there is no cure for bpd and I've to change myself. Well why cant they just let me die then?

13. Until you live with bpd you'll never know what it's like to be too much and not enough at the same time.

14. i know im constantly too much for everyone but sometimes i just want to be enough for someone

15. if he will leave me, my next diagnosis will be of "sociopath"

16. im so jealous of all the people who see him and touch him and talk to him every single day it should be me me me me

17. oh I got my hair coloured. why? because I can't hurt myself anymore

18. "you're so distant" because you can't handle my abandonment issues.

19. My younger self disappoint me a lot. like why were you begging people to stay in your life? ohh no worries I know the answer

20. I wanna throw a plate against the wall, stab a knife through my hand, destroy my laptop with a hammer, smash my door in with an axe and spray graffiti all over the walls of my room

21. Why shouldn’t I be mad? Why can’t I just be angry and be allowed to feel it? Why can’t I burn everything down?

22. I have to watch my mouth every fucking second to make sure I don't destroy every relation I have coz apparently social life matters!!

23. Isnt it fucked up how he got away with every horrible thing he made me experience and I’m the one who has to live with myself feeling absolutely fucking worthless

24. I don't deserve food and love. im a horrible person.

25. this is how my eating cycle goes

feeling weak coz i haven't ate anything -> eat -> purge -> feeling guilty after purging -> eat more -> feeling guilty after eating so much -> cry coz you don't know what's happening

26. the diagnosis makes me believe I'm not insane just lil emo ig!! NOOOO YOU'RE INSANE

27. “don’t let it bother u” baby i’m gonna be bothered by this for the next 10 years

28. if I tell you I love you its equivalent to I can kill someone for you

29. Actually upon further inspection that shit really hurt my feelings

30. I don't dive into insecurity anymore, i drown in self-loathe

31. i shut up in between group convo coz I know I'll talk invaluable shit and nobody really cares what I say until it's psychology class

32. "if you are fully aware of yourself, why do you keep acting like that?" slapping self awareness on top of bpd only grants the ability to watch yourself self-destruct straight from the vip section thats all it does literally

33. “Where do you see yourself in the future” building a cult for mentally ill people

34. ofc I've a praise kind i was ignored as a child

35. I'm much better than I was before. you know why coz I don't to air now and don't see monsters walking by side all the time

36. No I don't want to self harm anymore I need to kill that fucking monster

37. Don't mind me, I'm just casually sabotaging all my positive relationships with negative delusions because my life doesn't feel real unless something dramatic and destructive is constantly occurring

38. i don’t care i don’t care i don’t care (im going to sob my fucking eyes out)

39. “Stop making your disorder your personality” I have a fucking personality disorder for god sake

40. turning my mental illnesses into kinks and calling it the BDSM-5

41. "destroy something precious while you're in rage" ohh yeaa and then I'll do that again and again

42. what I hate most about my BPD is the fact that I have started doubting every emotion that I’ve ever felt in my life, whether it’s love, my grief through multiple traumas, or my anger, & it’s so saddening. It has actually led me to start questioning my reality.

43. if I need medication to stay alive, am I really meant to be here?

44. it's either be alone without 75% of my symptoms, or be with someone and display the most horrendous unstable awful version of myself. why do i have to choose between love & happiness or peace & stability?

45. That fucking bpd rage where everyone's voices makes you want to scream and every noise around you makes you want to sh and you're so mad you can almost feel the cuts everywhere

46. getting worked up to the point of becoming physically ill (throwing up/stomach issues etc) because you felt rejected/abandoned by your favourite person

47. i wish my trauma made me kind as everyone says but i’m becoming what i fear the most- a monster.

48. imagine getting diagnosed with a personality disorder and the only visible representation of that disorder is an animated horse man, a sociopathic sitcom character from philadelphia, and darth vader

#bpd #bpd awareness #personality disorder #borderline personality disorder #mental illness #mental health #mental instability

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tiredassmage · 1 year ago

Note

SWOOPS IN

Tav Questions for Leo: 3, 4, 8, 9, 11, 21 and 22

GIGGLES! I knew you'd be at it! I'm still not too far into his run, so I had to let these marinate a little and get a bit further along in Act I to get a bit more data.

[30 Questions for Your Tav!]

3. Did your Tav receive any formal or informal education? If yes, how well did they learn? If no, why not?

So far I’m thinking to still diagnose him with unloved by rich parents syndrome, as per the textposts pile, lol, so, yes, I imagine Leo experienced some level of formal education; the family is well-known enough for their business endeavors in Baldur’s Gate, but probably less recognized than his father’s puffed chest might long to suggest and maintain. I think Leo’s a bit of a fan of stories as escapism in that sense; I’m playing him on College of Valor Bard, but his “education” in that regard is more likely to have come from tavern tales at the Blushing Mermaid and escapades to Sharess’s Caress. The other class I had briefly entertained was Wizard, so perhaps that’s where his family would’ve preferred he spent his time honing more of his talents versus where he really ended up. I think he likely finished most of his basic education with tutors and whatnot in the city before one of many, many arguments about Leo’s life choices finally saw him run out and fall in with less scrupulous crowds.

His martial training then is almost entirely informal - picked up from tavern brawls, pirates, and smugglers that became more and more of his common company in more recent years, until finally they became about his only primary company once he left his family. He knows enough to read and write well, and he’s absorbed some measure of history, but he wouldn’t self-describe as well-read and he’ll leave investigating every dusty tome in abandoned cathedrals and dilapidated towns to Gale’s ambitious nose. Ultimately, I think I’d call him a bit more street-wise than book-smart, but I also wouldn’t want to oversell either, exactly. The many fights at home make him a bit easily irritable at times and patience isn’t a particularly strong virtue of his. More than anything, he’d probably best be described as of a college of fucking around and finding out, frankly.

4. What hobbies does your Tav have? How did they acquire these interests?

Leo enjoys a game of cards and oral storytelling, though the latter might be something of a given with his class, lol. A lively tavern scene in the evening was a place to explore expression and live more out-of-bounds and it’s informed a lot of what Leo is currently. The art of the improvised, cutting insult was almost as good a defense as a sharpened dagger when he first started to jab elbows and shoulders with the kind in the Lower City those of the Upper would generally rather pretend don’t exist. Huddled around tavern bards, he’d hear colorful tales of adventure and exploration that planted the idea with him that it might be an alternative to the suffocating demands of power and prestige in the city.

8. Did your Tav have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their Illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how do they feel about being single?

I’m still kind of hammering out the details and the whens, the hows, the whos, etc. of exactly what life was like for Leo before the mindflayers came and turned everything upside down, but the short answer is yes. One of Leo’s later frequent locations before a plan to leave Baldur’s Gate entirely started to take any sort of shape was Sharess’s Caress. Lured by not exactly the most honest crowd to such locales, Leo found sharing company in the arms of another man far more preferable to gritted teeth pleasantries with fair maidens at noble gatherings - something he’d generally have preferred to keep perhaps a bit more under lock and key. Not all of those experiences were exactly positive in that regard, and they play a hand in the kind of crowd he hung out with when he finally abandoned (or was run out of, depending on who you ask) Upper City living - smugglers, thieves, pirates - the likes of which taught him how to bargain and the power of a manipulative word perhaps better than any tutoring on dinner table manners and politics ever had.

One may have been the exception to Leo’s generally… questionable choice of company, however - a fellow bard with bright green eyes and hair the shade of a vibrant sunset over the docks. His chiding on Leo’s typical choice of company was usually accompanied with a kiss… or a handful of them. And worried eyes would often linger around the edges of the tavern songs they learned together. Neither of them were sure where they would go if they left, but… maybe… if they did…

Unfortunately, life isn’t exactly like the fairy tales, is it?

9. What was your Tav doing when they were taken by the mindflayers?

Trying to survive, as the short answer. While Leo wouldn’t exactly claim he’s a gifted liar or even a performer (generally), if nothing else, he’s got an odd brand of luck, maybe. A roundabout talking in and out of situations that came in handy and was honed when he found himself keeping the company of smugglers to have place to put his head down at night, shorn of the noble trappings that had initially raised him (or claimed it, at any rate). With the failed idealization of disappearing into the wilds of the realm still bitter and aching on his lips, Leo’s nothing if not a creature of habit. There was a lot about his life aiding smugglers (and possibly dubiously owing some connection to the Zhentarim about it) that wasn’t exactly not broken, but it was… working. Sort of. For the moment. It was a hell of a more appealing option than trying to crawl home and grovel for some biting form of ‘forgiveness’ for spurning the rest of his family, at the absolute least. At least he knew where he stood when someone put a dagger to his throat, eh?

11. What would your Tav consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate?

Leo’s list of personal accusations is… fairly extensive. Unreliable of judgement, more coward than could be respectable, at the very least selfishly interested in keeping his own life. He’s a far harsher critic than need be, but there’s… a kernel of truth to his penchant for making ill-advised decisions. He could benefit a lot from giving himself a bit more grace that a lot of his more “questionable” decisions are motivated out of some flavor of fear (and who wouldn’t be overwhelmed when faced with a mindflayer invasion and a growing cult to some new god you’ve never heard of [no, he didn’t pay that great of attention to his history lessons, but how much does that really matter right now?!]). His biggest trouble maker is generally the whole package of misconstrued flaws and blame; Leo’s lack of… confidence? kindness? For himself usually leads him deeper into a cycle of acting in ways that fit the narrative of selfish, skittish, short of patience, and whichever other unflattering monikers he deems fit for the day than allowing him some space to recognize such fears and needs for a place to belong or fit in root from a not particularly supportive youth spent failing to meet lofty and often cutting expectations, mostly set by his father.

21. How does your Tav feel about love?

A darling subject for songs. Everyone loves a good ballad. He’d rather down several pints of questionable and not even particularly good ale than wrangle with the feeling in his chest that spawns from hearing the word and the memories it sparks of that other bard he spent a not insignificant amount of time learning from and spending time with. It’s nice. And it’s sweet - so he hears. It seems tempting to give a lot to enjoy the feeling of someone else’s hand nestled perfectly in one of yours, or to lose track of hours in an evening simply because you’re lost in the stars of their eyes…

What? No, he’s not wistful or hurting or missing anyone in particular. Shut up. How could you? He’s a bard, flowery words for all of this is just what he’s supposed to be good at!

(He’d… love it, to be ungraceful.) To be ungraceful but accepted with another.

He wants it. He tells himself he’ll settle for the mere physical sensations of closeness to another.

Nothing else has ever worked out to plan for him, after all. Might as well let others name the role for him and merely fill it. Maybe he isn’t the smoothest, most charismatic liar or charmer you’ve ever met, but he’s a performer by trade, right? At least he might be good for something, then.

22. Has your Tav become particularly close to anyone romantically and/or platonically in their journey? If so, who, and what is the relationship like? If no, why not?

Well, I’ll say I ruined my sleep schedule to finish the goblin camp last night and Leo’s love life in this party is frankly a fucking mess, which is just about what I expected, knowing him kafnalds;flsdf. I don’t think he knows what he wants yet.

Wyll’s charming - far more a righteous heart than Leo could ever see himself being. He is a darling hero. Those always make for charming songs. He’s sweet. Good. The kind word Leo can’t help but crave to hear. But maybe too good for him. It seems he’s got quite enough going on without adding… whatever… [vague gesturing] Leo’s got going on. The reasonable one, maybe. The type that would be in the thick of goblins and monsters and cultists and trying to save the world. Leo would be lying (and probably poorly, if the blush is to say anything) if he tried to claim he wasn’t interested in seeing the Blade’s dance or sharing a drink sometime. And maybe he’s a little curious what it’d be like to kiss those scars and ridges. Tempting…

Karlach and him need to be friends, I think. Absolutely wonderful, disastrous (positive) friends. Karlach’s just a powerhouse of energy for life - with a heart of adventure, a mouth just as good at ass-kicking as her strength of arms, and really just an all-around kind of alive and kicking that might just be as contagious or more than the heat of her engine. If she wouldn’t entirely singe him, she could absolutely pick Leo clean up off the ground and spin him around. I quite think she will, assuming they can make sure he wouldn’t roast in the process. To give him the opportunity to know what it’s like to be tall, y’know! Friends in hijinks energy.

And I think… Astarion might have his fangs in a bit more than his neck, for better or worse. Part of me wants to say of course you would, Leo. Because… of course he would. I’m not sure it’s genuinely affection and charm just yet - and Leo’s not exactly fully aware of the full scope of scheming it could be, exactly. He’s probably just aware enough that it could be little more than convenience and some sort of play at power or… some such, but he doesn’t particularly… care. At the moment. If it is just that. Which I’d say has the potential to backfire on both of them and accidentally get feelings in the mix if they keep going like this. Leo had sort of resigned himself to the physical nature of it, but there’s an undeniable charm to being called darling that Leo might… just forget to keep his head on straight [as if anything about him is] about.

And I’m… wondering how him and Gale are going to get along in the long run. Something about ambition between the two of them might end up scratching my brain, but it’s a bit too early for me to tell just where they’re going. Given Leo’s absolutely haphazard sense of direction though, that little bit of magic shared one night might’ve left Leo blushing and both of them stumbling a bit for more eloquent speech. We’ll just have to stay tuned for this one.

#answered #dot talk #dot's bg3 tag #bg3 tav #vs: the only things the foolish need are a suitcase and a trunk | bg!leo

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buzzybee3 · 11 months ago

Text

I’ve been on a trip in Mexico. I now have ideas for a chapter. Might just rearrange it for keeping it cleaner but just- the bois-

This is very long. Encapsulated two weeks of my life. Read at your own risk.

(Tw for almost throwing up. Fish carcass. (Unrelated) And a few other questionable but not really things.)

Greenhouse au ideas

•Going to Guadalajara. Also reader has larger family/ is traveling with a large group for the first half. And yes they are technically Hispanic. Or in non Hispanic terms, you passed Spanish class.

- On the first day you buy a bracelet because it reminds you of sun and he is ecstatic. Later you buys one that reminds you of moon.

- There is a swimming pool that is see through so it looks like an aquarium tank.

- You swim there with family/group. Boys watch and have fun. (100% dressed in the outfits sun-e-chips made for their waterspark au) You pretend to be a mermaid. Sorta. You raced some people one on one and lucky you, you won like 50% of the time! Almost drowned at some point but you tried to make sure the boys didn’t realize. They did. That was a fun night. (No it wasn’t)

- The next day you buy a cowboy hat, a leather belt, some leather boots, and a phone holder to attach to the belt, also made of leather. Sun had a field day with that. And then bought all the same things to match, and you love it.

- they go to the beach and you swim in the waves. That day you end up only spending half of the day in the water. When the sun goes down there’s a thunderstorm and sun almost dies trying to get your attention to get you out of the water (yes he is sorta water resistant but he got scared for your safety and you were relaxing too much.

- The next day you all end up going to crab island. The water is clear there and you swim for a few minutes but you hate it because there are a ton of crabs.

- When you go back to the beach you end up brushing along something, it happens a lot, so you pick it up to see what it is and it’s a fish carcass, half of it at least. The tail. 30 minutes later your sister/close female friend finds the exact same carcass.

- It’s horrifying. You end up staying in the water until sundown.

- They go to Islan del Río Nayarit and climb cristo Rey (you die lmao)

- There’s a kid on the way up in one of the houses. Your mom/some older women, asks if he can help them the way up. He says ‘if you don’t kidnap me I’ll help you!’

- This makes you and sun laugh because no one here has need for more or any kids.

- There are a ton of cats.

- (The climb back down they are very worried because your legs are shaky. Shouldn’t have tried to show off your strength climbing a mountain, Jesus.)

- On the trip from cristo Rey to tequila they are trapped in the car for hours but the air is fine. They are in a giant bus/car thing. It fits 19 people not including the driver, plus all of their suitcases so there’s a good amount of space.

- Los dos carnales by el envidioso plays in the background while you start to focus on what’s happening. Around the end of the song someone make it louder so it feels like the intro to a movie. The three of you (you, sun and moon) joke about that.

- We move to a different bus but forget to say bye to the og driver.

- You thinks about him (no not og driver. He will be revealed later in the story) But are reminded that you have sun and moon now. And are happy. Because there are no seatbelts you sit with the boys. They are your seatbelt.

- For the last 9 days they stay at European lifestyle hotel, there are three separate rooms but sun/moon charge in your room for the nights. Cosy.

- They go to ride horses on the third day at the hotel. In Guadalajara in a park with a castle and Japanese gardens called bosque los Colomos.

- The next day you go to Ahihi and Chapala, and buy a moonchim that reminds you of moon with elephants on it.

- In Tonalá you finds a giant fan for only 75 pesos and manage to barter it slightly to make it 70. Its huge. You are very elated.

- In San Juan de Dios, there are tons of artisan shops. Sun finds an apron of loteria that says ‘El Sol’ and buys it without a second thought.

- In same location: man comes up to their group, asking if they want a phone charger that does massages. Goes to the first person (dad/older man in the group) and places it on his shoulder/ back and then the second person too (little brother or Gregory) before getting to you and retracting his arm. Maybe it was your glare or sun’s ‘touch her if you dare look’ but something deterred him.

- Later on in the day everyone goes to the center of Guadalajara and some women does the same thing but they get to you first. Sun is enraged because it makes you scared (you jump and are very embarrassed) and he knows you don’t like touch that you don’t expect. But he manages to smile at the women and tell her ‘we don’t need any’. Mutters afterwards that he’s plenty good at massaging. It makes you laugh (but he’s being serious).

- You sees a dress shop that will make a custom dress for her while on their walk. You really want it but alas it’s around 750 US dollars and therefore too much for you to pay for. Sun and moon are really touchy the next few hours, hugging your waist and sometimes it’s funny or weird for some reason, your hips or even your chest but you don’t think too much on it. They disappear for a few minutes (almost a good hour) the next day while your group is at the the Guadalajara center again. (They are planning something).

- You find a fruit cupshop while they are gone and buy some mangos. Best damn mangos you’ve ever eaten.

- Later of the day of the first disappearance, your group goes to Tlaquepaque (sun and moon are not left behind). When taking a photo in front of the sign you laugh softly because of a kid who is messing around and ask him is he’s taking the photo with you guys. The kid runs and both you and sun laugh. While taking the photo you both stand next to the A because it has sun and moon decals yippee.

- Same day you do the shock game with your family and sun is horrified that humans do this for fun. You enjoy yourself, and get very shocked. You make it to level 5 in the group one but then you go by yourself and it’s much… much worse. You still make it to 5 but you can’t move your arms and sun is still very worried for your safety and also notes, sort of, that you have a lack of self preservation skills.

- The next day they go to Mazamitla. You go to pet tigers and do tons of crazy things like:

- Sun thinks you’re crazy. Notes that you 100% have lack of self preservation skills.

- You guys are in a very precarious van. It’s taking you on this tour. Seats held up by rope and very dirty. You have fun with all the giant divits in the ground as the rickety bus drives. You think it’s very entertaining. Sun is once again horrified. (Even more notes for lack of self preservation)

- Then you go on a zip line while there’s rain. Sun is not happy and goes in the car with you guys. Wearing a coat of course. The truck is rickety and worse, you and everyone else going on the zipline are in the trunk. You meet some very nice, very funny people(Sun is not amused by them) Sofia-Sofie 15, Miguel-migi 17, Viviana-Vivi 17, Alya-Aly 15, and two others who you don’t get the names of but they are both 27 years old.

- (Yes I met these randos in the trunk car ride up the mountain in freezing cold pelting rain. Nothing was gonna stop me from going on that zipline.)

- At some point the rain gets so bad that you all have to wait inside the car smooshed together. Very interesting and smelly but you manage to make it up the mountains by foot to the zip lines.

- The first one is slower, you get more of a view. Holding onto the rope that is attached to you. You almost miss catching the persons hand at the end and almost get stuck further away, when sun arrives (because of course he had to get on now that it was raining) he insists on going first on the second one. The second one goes so fast it sounds like a helicopter. You get specific instructions to hold on to the metal and hang with your legs facing as forward as possible. You get scared and focus more on getting the signal ti let go of the metal, that you miss seeing everything. You see sun at the end though. Very clear yellow against the dark green background.

- When you make it to the end Sun catches you by the waist, holding onto the precarious stairs/platform up in the trees instead of taking your hand, insisting that he didn’t want you to get stuck again.

- Very embarrassing for you yes (and also you blush but we ain’t talking about that) but his mechanical heart was in the right place. He helps you down by sort of lifting you and hurriedly taking your helmet off, knowing that you were gonna be late for your ride, the poorly held together bus. Staying inside of the truck sorta made you behind because it was raining so much.

- You take off the harness as fast as possible. A 4 year old being the one to take your things. It’s a surprise but you follow her instruction and within the minute, sun is carrying you slightly towards the bus. (He doesn’t want you stepping in mud, such a gentleman)

- When you reach the bus, it has a tarp over the windows to protect people from the harsh rain.

- The bus driver sings songs all the way down the mountain which sun, and you, are concerned about because he was also driving.

- He sings 3 songs, very nicely might you add, you wonder why he’s a bus driver. Sun sings to some, obviously accessing the internet to do so and somehow sings in Spanish… (he was fishing for compliments 100% because he didn’t like that you were complimenting the driver so much)

- When you guys get off the bus it’s pouring so hard you can’t go anywhere. You enter Mia’s boutique to get a better sweater, because yours is not meant for rain. You end up just getting a poncho but sun gets one too. You joke about him riding horses now will make him look like an actual cowboy.

- You eat at a random restaurant, ordering a beef hamburger with fries and sit at a two seater with Sun. You eat your fries first happily, and start to drink your lemonade before taking a bite of your hamburger and making a face before setting it down. Getting embarrassed you tell sun you’d rather not eat it because it tasted really strange. Sun scans it and says it’s a mix of pork and beef apparently. Great.

- You go to get a crepe instead. Enjoying it despite the overtly sweet strawberry tinge flavoring. You asked for chocolate… oh well.

- As you eat it you slowly have a harder time swallowing being the flavor is just not agreeing with your taste buds.

- By your last big bite you almost throw up. The bile rises through your throat as you desperately try to keep it all in. It works but sun notices and takes you to the side. Holding you to let you sit on the bench without getting wet (because of the rain) and talks to you about stuff.

- He asks why you tried to finish it even if you knew you didn’t like the flavor. You refrain from telling him about how you were used to always finishing/ being forced to finish your food even if it meant throwing up, and you instead tell him It was just expensive so you didn’t want to waste money. The best lie is the truth after all and that was part of the reason you finish it.

- On the trip back to the car you trip slightly. Sun try’s to catch you even though you don’t fall and the position that leaves you in is very fun! (Once again no. Mud sucks)

- The ride back to the hotel you sleep together in the back of the car, (family/friends are driving) very relaxing 10/10 experience.

- The showers have been having issues, very hot then very cold, but at this point you are used to it.

- Next day you go on a new tour bus. First stop was to Vicente Fernandez’s ranch and pet a ton of horses and see so many new cool flowers that you 100% are adding to the greenhouse.

- Then you go to a tequila factory.

- You taste 5 separate flavors of the 7 being served. All of them you hated. White, peach, mango, coffee, and one other that you don’t remember the name of.

- You don’t feel uneasy or sick at all afterwards. Yay you’re not a lightweight go Mexican genes.

- Then you go at a nice restaurant back in Ahihi. (I don’t think I spelled it right)

- Then on a boat ride on a very questionable boat. You live, but have anxiety about sinking the whole time.

- Then you go to Chapala. You buy a sunflower cowboy hat because it reminds you of Sun.

- Then you buy another Sun related thing, a yellow jar with sand and tiny trinkets inside.

- Now you need to get two moon related things. It’s only fair of course.

- You start to run out of time.

- You don’t end up finding moon things. And see ultimately upset about that. Sun and moon were fine but you still felt really bad about that. It meant a lot to the both that you were so upset about it not being fair though.

- Then you remember you bought the moon wind chime so almost all is forgiven for yourself.

- This time on the way back you end up falling asleep so moon stays with you awake until it’s time.

- You guys end up back at Guadalajara center.

- You start going to the area with the yummy fruit and pass by a clown show. The one from the first week.

- You don’t know how you end up in the situation but one clown is waiting in front of you while everyone chants “beso! Beso”

- You end up saying ‘lo siento pero no me gustan los payasos. Prefiero los jistes.’ (Im sorry but im not into clowns, I prefer jesters)

- Sun/moon are pleased and the crowd goes ‘ahh’ disappointed

- You give sun/moon a kiss on their faceplate and the crowd goes ‘aww’ happily.

- You go buy another mango cup because it’s so yummy, and sun and moon are amused you get it from the same spot as you did only days earlier.

- Second to last day you go back to Guadalajara center and find a necklace that has a moon on it and you are ecstatic. Balance has been restored.

- You go back to the mango shop and learn that the magos they use are Kent mangos? THe most amazing mango’s you’ve ever had that’s for sure.

- Last day at your hotel you start going over everything. Everything you have gets packed into 3 suitcases and 2 duffle bags.

- Sun had a ton of stylish outfits because of course he did, the diva 😒.

- Then he presets the dress he bought. 725 US dollars. Because he knew you really wanted it. You practically cry as you hug and and thank him over and over again.

- You buy a doughnut from Krispy kream at the airport.

- The riee in the airplane is fun, it leaves at 11:30 and lands at 1:55.

- You draw the whole way back. Sun is… he finds the art to be flustering. Because you drew someone’s human sun design getting pulled into a kiss with your self insert. You thought it was funny because sun was right next to you and you wanted to mess with him.

- You almost throw up on the descent because you get dizzy for no reason. It takes 10 minutes for the nausea to go away and sun is worried the entire time.

- When you get home you hardly recognize anything but after you eat lunch you literally forget you even went on a trip.

- You shower and then sun asks if you’ll try the dress on. So you do.

- It’s perfect. The inside was comfortable and soft, and it matched the theme for your greenhouse perfectly.

- When you leave the room you go show sun he is stunned silent.

- You just found the perfect outfit for the opening of your greenhouse.

#buzzywrites #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #literally just drabbles #but i mean cmon #now i need to see sun and moon going on a trip with reader.#sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf daycare attendant #dca x reader #forgive me #theres way more sun stuff than moon #because these things happen during the day and well..

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