Triangulum - Chapter 4 - The Morning After Bill
— — — — — — —
Despite the shroud of unease that lingered over the Shack throughout the night, darkness eventually faded into the warm sunlight of morning.
And even for someone like Ford—whose tireless efforts had left him with only a few pages of halfway-useful ideas, with the rest being banished to a crumpled and discarded pile in the fireplace—the morning sunlight that poured in from the window across the room brought with it a comfort.
“Seems kinda pointless to toss all that into a fireplace if you’re not going to actually set it on fire.”
Regardless of the stress that still lingered from the previous evening.
His gaze met the pair of slitted pupils—pupil? Ford hadn’t missed the way Bill’s right eye was less reactive than his left. A visual impairment, perhaps?—on the far side of the room, a toothy, cheshire grin spreading wide beneath them. “I’d bring up the whole ‘expert in burning things around here’ thing again, but I hate using joke more than once a millennia,” Bill said. “It’s like, I’ve had an eternity to perfect my material so doing a bit twice in such a short amount of time just feels so lazy. You get what I mean, Fordsy?”
Despite his gaze being focused elsewhere, the tip of Ford’s pencil snapped against the paper for the millionth time across the past several hours. And with a bitten-back huff, he tore his attention from Bill again in favor of reaching towards the small end table at his side, hand briefly lingering over the gun he had kept there all night.
It would be easy enough to kill the body that Bill was currently possessing—as gruesome as the idea was, it was simply an undeniable fact. The body looked young, barely older than a teenager if Ford had to harbor an estimate. And that was before taking his…uncanny resemblance into account.
Ford had to physically restrain himself from casting another sidelong look at Bill, a shudder crawling up his spine as he disregarded the gun in favor of the pencil sharpener. He wasn’t sure how much of the remaining household had picked up on it—there was a high chance that Stan and the kids had noticed to some degree—but it was truly eerie how similar Bill’s vessel looked to Dipper.
The structure of his face, the way the hair hung down over his forehead just as Dipper’s did whenever he wasn’t wearing a hat—
“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy. Didn’t exactly feel like stopping and sussing out all the details, not when the chance to stretch my legs again after spending nine months as a lawn ornament was right there in front of me.”
If Bill’s earlier claims were to be believed—Ford did not believe them in the slightest—then there were a few possibilities. Either some outside force had prevented him from getting a proper look at the vessel or Bill had simply jumped into it first with the intention of asking questions later.
…Admittedly, jumping first and asking questions later was a very Bill-esque way to approach a deal; one didn’t usually need to ask question with the power of omniscience on their side.
But if his earlier claims weren’t to be believed—once again, Ford did not believe them in the slightest—then there were even more possibilities.
Bill had been lying through his teeth and had purposefully sought out a vessel that looked as uncomfortably-identical to Dipper as possible. And now he was determined to keep such awareness of his appearance as much of a secret as possible, for unknown—but likely sinister—reasons. Perhaps as a precautionary shield of sorts; with the assumption that most would hesitate first before putting a bullet through the eyes of someone that resembled their own.
A counterpoint to that theory was that Bill had asked for a mirror without prompting, but maybe that had been part of the lie? To throw the rest of them off track and push their assumptions towards one direction, all to take focus away from the other?
Of course, none of those theories and guesses brought up an answer to how Bill had managed to come across a new vessel in the first place. Or discussed the matter of the vessel’s original soul, one who had likely been tricked into making a deal with Bill—leaving them bound to the mindscape while he once again puppeteered a body that did not belong to him.
Nor did any of that address the biggest and most pressing issue at hand; how Bill was still alive at all.
With a sigh, Ford forewent the sharpening of his pencil in favor of staring numbly at the mess of discarded paper in the fireplace. Even after a full night of brainstorming, he was still left with both a physical and metaphorical pile of unanswered questions with no clear solution.
“What, are you actually considering that fire idea of mine?” Bill piped up from his spot. “And here I thought I was doomed to keep talking to the air.”
A cackle. “It’s really a shame I can’t hear inanimate objects with this body, the lovely ladies on the shelf over there look like the kinda gals who’ve got a lot of entertaining stories under their belts!”
After a few more seconds of disassociated staring—gaze locked firmly on the mess of paper in a desperate attempt to tune out Bill’s mockery—Ford finally resharpened his pencil to a fine point and returned it to the notebook page.
Rather than continue writing, however, the tip lingered above the paper while he stared at the most recent sentence in silent consideration. And after another second more, he brought it beneath his words to scribble out a bold underline.
It wasn’t the best idea in the world, and it would all depend on whether or not the needed supplies would’ve kept their potency after all these years.
But for now, it was an idea.
— — — — — — —
“I’m awake!”
Mabel’s eyes snapped open as soon as the morning sunlight hit her eyelids, and she bolted upright so quickly that Waddles was sent rolling over onto his back with a surprised oink.
Despite his otherwise-unbothered state, Mabel still crawled to the end of the bed to pull him into a hug. “Sorry, buddy,” she cooed apologetically. “I didn’t realize you were back over here again!”
“He moved to your bed when we switched shifts an hour ago,” Dipper explained from his side of the room. “Guess you weren’t wrong about him being a good guard pig.”
With a tired laugh, she pressed several kisses to the top of Waddles’ head. “I told you! I’m just saying, maybe feeding Bill to him might actually get the job done.”
The laughter petered off as the events of the previous night came flooding back to them, and they exchanged an uncomfortable look. “Did…did you have any nightmares about him?” Dipper asked.
Mabel thought for a moment, the kisses now replaced with scritches to the top of the pig’s head as her affectionate gesture of choice. “Not that I can remember,” she mused. “I had a dream where I was the size of a doll living in a dollhouse, and the little girl who owned it really wanted me to go for a drive in my convertible when I clearly wanted to go shopping at the mall!”
She pressed a finger to her chin. “But other than that, I think my dreams were pretty normal.”
“Yeah, mine too,” Dipper said. “I mean, I kept seeing triangles wherever I went. But it didn’t feel like anything I don’t normally dream about.”
A shrug as he reached up to brush the hair from his eyes. “Back when Bill visited me in my sleep last year, it felt a lot more—I dunno, vivid? Like it was something that could be happening in real life, you know? But nothing from last night felt that way.”
“I guess that means Grunkle Ford kept a close enough eye on Bill and he didn’t hop into anyone’s dreams, then,” Mabel said. “You think he’s really been up all night?”
“I’d believe it,” Dipper agreed with a nod. “You saw how freaked he was over Bill’s return, I don’t think he’s gonna sleep until Bill’s gone for good. I mean, for good-good this time.”
Mabel stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “Well, I hope he’s gone for good-good soon. I really want to be able to spend some time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”
“Yeah, me too.”
They exchanged another look, before Mabel placed her hands on her hips. “Welp, can’t think of a way to re-kill an evil, triangle jerkface on an empty stomach!” she said, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s go get breakfast!”
A gurgling sound from Dipper’s stomach brought a hand to his shirt, and he hopped down from his bed to join her on the floor. “Ugh, good call. I swear I ate, like, three helpings of lasagna last night, and somehow I’m starving again!”
“Ughughughhhhh, me too,” Mabel bemoaned as the two exited their room and made their way towards the stairs. “This puberty thing is the worst! Why are we always hungry?!”
“I know, right? Everyone went on and on about the acne and the body hair, but they didn’t think to mention how we’d be eating as much as your pet pig?”
Their griping continued as they headed down the stairs together, although Mabel’s decision to skip a step at a time soon brought her to the bottom floor before her brother, leaving her to amble on through the kitchen door by herself.
Her nostrils were immediately greeted by several different scents at once—coffee, pancake syrup and bacon being the most potent, seconded by the smell of lasagna with a charred, reheated undertone that could only be produced by two-and-a-half minutes in a microwave.
From the kitchen table—with a little bit of everything stacked on his plate—Soos greeted her with a wave and a cheerful: “‘Morning, girl dude!”
“Mmm, I smell bacon,” Mabel muttered, trudging sleepily over to the table to join him. “And I’d just like to clarify that even though I have a pet pig, I still want five pieces. At least!”
Melody cast her a smile and tossed more bacon into the pan. “I’ll see what I can do—uh, do you want crispy or crunchy? Because I’ll just warn you right now that I’m way better at making it crunchy.”
She shifted the pieces of bacon around with the end of the spatula. “In fact, the last time I tried making it crispy, I don’t think I fried it long enough. So I’d probably pick crunchy, because there’s less of a chance that I’ll undercook it.”
“Well, I still thought your undercooked bacon was delicious, babe,” Soos piped up loyally.
From the open fridge, a very groggy Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you need to get your stomach pumped after eating too much?”
“Yes, and the doctor who did it was very polite!”
“Crunchy’s fine,” Mabel said, settling into an empty chair. “And my demand from before still stands.”
“Yeah, I’ll just stick to pancakes,” Dipper chimed in as he shuffled into the kitchen as well. “Morning, by the way.”
“Hey, dude!” Soos once again greeted, turning his attention to both twins as Dipper joined them at the table. “You two sleep okay? Especially with, uh—you know?”
The kitchen fell silent for a moment—save for the bacon sizzling away in the pan and the occasional scrape of the spatula as Melody continued to shift everything around for an even sear—before Dipper replied: “About as well as we could, yeah.”
“No dumb triangle guys in our dreams,” Mabel added. “Or at least, not the actual one. What about you guys?”
Wendy looked up from the fridge. “Eh, slept like I always do on that couch. Dead asleep around three am, while those early-morning infomercials play in a loop on the TV.”
After another moment of searching, she finally decided on the milk carton and swung the door shut behind her. “Pretty sure the only dream I had involved a talking watch that could also wash my dishes. If that means anything.”
While she held the carton up to her mouth for a swig, Melody moved some of the finished bacon to a plate. “When Soos and I slept, we slept fine,” she said. “But every so often, we’d wake up to go check on Dr. Pines.”
“Mornin’.”
The group turned to see Stan near the doorway, his groggy demeanor a clear indication that he had slept very little during the night. “Heard somethin’ about Ford,” he said, and held out his hand. “Gimme a plate of that bacon, then gimme the news.”
“As far as we know, nothing big happened,” Melody explained, and handed him a plate as instructed. “Every time we peeked in on them, Dr. Pines told us everything was fine while Bill was still tied to the chair.”
“Whaddabout the prisoner himself?”
“He’d call us a bunch of mean names whenever we checked in,” Soos added. “Or—well, he mostly just called me Question Mark. But the way he said it made it sound mean.”
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “He also tried calling me Shirt at one point when I picked him up off the floor, but he went back on it pretty quick. Said it didn’t feel right.” A shrug. “Other than that, though, he didn’t really do anything.”
“Which probably means Ford didn’t have to do anything.” Stan exhaled with a sigh of relief. “Thanks for the update, Soos.”
“Would someone like to bring him a plate of food?” Melody asked. “I’ve pulled my fair share of all-nighters, I know how hungry they can make someone.”
Mabel’s expression brightened and she quickly hopped back down from the table. “I’ll do it! A hearty breakfast is sure to keep the Evil-Triangle-Killing gears turning in Grunkle Ford’s head!”
While Melody handed her a plate, Stan reached up to scrub the sleep from his eyes. “Well, it ain’t exactly how we expected our first day back to go, but can anyone really say they’re surprised?”
“I can’t,” Dipper said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “Man, Dev’s gonna freak when he hears about what our trip’s been like so far.”
Suddenly Mabel’s eyes shot open wide as she slapped her own hand to the side of her face. “Dev! I completely forgot that he wanted to talk last night!”
“You wanna go call him now?” Dipper asked. “I’ll take Ford his breakfast, if you wa—”
He barely had time to finish his question before the plate was thrust into his hands and Mabel hurried back out of the kitchen towards the stairs. Waddles—who had sleepily ambled after the kids as they’d headed down to breakfast, and had been in the process of finally reaching the bottom step—promptly turned around as she whizzed past and began to head back up after her.
Stan watched until both of them disappeared out of sight, before looking down to Dipper. “Not gonna ask about all a’that, but if you don’t mind havin’ a tag-along to go feed Ford—” He flicked a thumb at himself. “—there’s at least one other Pines here that can get the job done.”
Dipper cast him a small smile. “Yeah, actually, I’d like that.”
Stan shifted the thumb away from himself into a proper thumbs up before the two of them exited the kitchen, making their way towards the hall and the bedroom that waited just beyond the corner.
— — — — — —
After his early-morning attempt to torment Ford, Bill had fallen into yet another thoughtful silence.
Sure, he’d barely gotten more than a sentence or two out of Ford over the course of the night, most of which had just been threats. But that didn’t stop him from stringing together a few things on his own, using the various context clues he’d gathered since he’d first regained consciousness.
First thing of note was the room itself. Several points from the previous evening informed him that it had shifted from a parlor room to a bedroom for Soos’s grandmother; her current location unknown and her overall existence the farthest thing from a priority to Bill. One less person to keep track of—and/or to wave a random weapon in his face—was perfectly fine by him.
But her owning a bedroom here at the Shack implied that she had moved in since the previous summer. Additional clues gathered throughout the night also implied that Soos and the woman who came to check on Ford with him—Bill didn’t care enough to pay attention to her name, but it was blatantly obvious that the two of them were an Item—had moved into the Shack with her, specifically into Ford’s old bedroom next door.
On the same topic of Soos and Who-Cares-About-Her-Name, Bill had heard them pass by the bedroom about thirty minutes prior and head towards the direction of the kitchen. Given how they had yet to return, he wagered a guess that a new day had rolled around and the household was springing to life once again.
None of that could be considered groundbreaking information to Bill, but it was always nice to get a clearer picture of what he was working with in terms of scenery. Sixer had allowed his home to be turned into Domestic City over the past nine months, how uncharacteristically quaint of him.
Speaking of which…
Bill tore his stare from the the shelf of porcelain dolls he had kept his attention on during the quieter parts of the night—hey, his remark earlier had been more than just a light joke; old porcelain dolls were always good for a chat or two when he could actually talk to them—and cast a glance back Ford again.
He had briefly touched on his appearance the previous evening—mostly in the form of jokes about his silly beard—but there were a few other differences that could be spotted if one had spent several billion years honing the art of observing people.
Ford’s fashion sense was definitely not among those differences—not when he still donned the same red sweater and faded dark pants from the year prior. Even his glasses looked the same, sans the broken glass in the left lens being replaced at some point. Unsurprising in the slightest—ol’ Sixer hadn’t exactly been the kind of guy to keep up with the latest fashion trends.
But the crow’s feet around Ford’s eyes—ones that had been so deeply embedded that it was a miracle they hadn’t left scars—were fainter than before, and the dark circles that had once called the area beneath them home had faded to more of a light gray.
Overall, the aged ruggedness of his features had shifted to something more relaxed, more vital. As if he’d suddenly switched to a full four hours of sleep a night and lowered his daily coffee intake from twelve cups to eight, with an actual breakfast to go with them instead of just his usual nutrition pills.
All of that, and something else Bill couldn’t quite pinpoint.
A fact that made his scowl lower as his gaze shifted from Ford to the gun on the nightstand. It had been pretty easy to piece together that Ford was scribbling down methods to try and kill him, likely without causing any lethal harm to his current vessel.
The latter was only mere speculation based on his original thoughts upon regaining consciousness. But combined with the events of the previous evening, where the worst harm inflicted on him was nothing more than a punch to the eye—painful and annoying, but clearly nothing that was going to kill him—and an entire night of all bark and no bite when it came to Ford firing a bullet, Bill felt far more secure in his initial assumption.
Ford was trying to find a way to kill him without killing the body itself. A relatively-easy conclusion to reach with the evidence presented to him.
So naturally, the temptation to reveal what he knew to Ford had been locked in a fierce and grueling battle with his common sense for most of the night.
It was a great risk for sure, but the pile in the fireplace granted Bill some reassurance that Ford was nowhere near an actual solution. And if he did have any ideas left in that tattered little notebook of his—no new journal, huh? An unusual choice, but perhaps it was just a temporary method of notetaking. Not like he could exactly write in the other ones after Bill had used them for kindling last year, haha!—they certainly weren’t going to be his A-game.
Needless to say, toeing the line in this instance felt like a safe bet on Bill’s end. Plus it’d double as a chance to redarken those circles and recarve those old crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes.
Really remind Ford of just who he was dealing with here.
“It’s morning by now, right?” he finally asked aloud. “You must be tired, Fordsy.”
His remark earned him a dirty look from Ford, one he broke within seconds in favor of turning back to his work. An action that earned him a condescending sigh from Bill. “Still no dice on getting you to talk to me, huh? Can’t even take five minutes away from your mysterious scribblings to have a chat?”
With a laugh, he kicked his legs up in the air and clanked them back down against the chair in the most annoying fashion possible. “I’m just kidding, Stanford—I know what you’re trying to do,” he continued. “Obviously you’re trying to figure out a way to get rid of me, without killing the body of the poor sucker I’m possessing.”
He flashed him a toothy grin. “It’s why you just keep sticking that gun in my face instead of just pulling the trigger and busting out a mop to clean up the blood before it stains the floorboards, right?”
This earned him yet another sharp glare, one which masked something else behind Ford’s eyes that Bill once again struggled to decipher. Ugh, being stuck in a human vessel was so annoying; how was he supposed to reach his hand into someone’s mind cavity and really dig his fingers into their deepest fears and insecurities in a body like this?
Well, if he couldn’t poke and prod at the newer stuff, there was always the older spread for Bill to revisit. “No need to be get all huffy, Ford, I’m sure whatever brilliant plan you come up with will work so well,” he continued with another clank of his legs to the chair. “Like that memory gun trick~! I toldja last night how clever it was, right? Too bad you can’t go and Swiss cheese someone else’s mind this time around, huh?”
Another laugh escaped him, one that slowly faded into a dry, deadpan cackle as he folded one leg over the other. “I mean, you could always try it, but just know that it’ll be a lot trickier for me to go along with your little game again. And don’t think I won’t be counting the number of fingers on Goldfish’s hand—”
A light crunch of wood cut him off mid-sentence, and his eyes moved from Ford’s piercing glare to the pencil clutched tightly in his fist. The top half was bent at an unusual angle than before—a likely implication that it had snapped right in two, with Ford’s ironclad grip being the only thing keeping the pieces together at this point.
Well, he was definitely succeeding in getting under the man’s skin, that was clear~!
Before either of them could remark on the matter, however, the creaking of floorboards from further up the hall drew their attention to the door—
—and it was only seconds later before the creaking stopped just outside of it and Dipper’s voice called: “Grunkle Ford! Breakfast time!” from the other side.
Bill felt his eyes roll so far back into his head, he swore he got a glimpse at the useless lump of gray matter—or at least, it would normally be useless if he wasn’t the one taking it for a joyride—that humans called a brain. Great, one of the meddlesome little rugrats was acting as the Sunshine Brigade, and not even the fun one with the pig.
Well, at least he could probably get a kick out of scaring the little weenie. And at least said weenie’s voice succeeded in getting Ford to react with his own call of “Come on in.” as he set the broken pencil down on the nightstand.
The door was slowly pushed open with a hesitant hand to reveal the aforementioned Dipper and—
“Hope you’re feeling non-kosher today,” Stan piped up behind him. “If not, I’m snagging that bacon off your plate.”
Seriously? Didn’t Punchy Mc-No-Memory have anything better to do? What were there no tourists for him to currently scam or candy to snatch outta the grubby little hands of an underdeveloped human toddler?
Whatever, at least the two of them combined would bring some excitement into the room. “Oh, so both Pine Tree and Goldfish wanted to join the party this morning~?” he greeted with a bright grin. “Great, the more the merrier~!”
Dipper pushed the door open further and—while likely fighting the urge to wince at the sight of him—crossed the room to where Ford was seated. “Good morning! Melody prepped you a plate of food so you could eat while you worked.”
Despite his exhausted demeanor, Ford’s expression brightened at the sight of Dipper approaching him, and he took the offered plate with a warm smile. “Thank you, Dipper. Did you sleep well?”
“As well as I could with—well—”
He attempted—attempted and failed miserably—to give a subtle tilt of the head in Bill’s direction, to which Bill responded with a cackle. “You know, Pine Tree, it’s very rude to gossip about someone when they’re in the room!“ he taunted. “Don’t beat around the bush, go ahead and tell him how restless your sleep was now that I’m back~!”
He tilted his own head with a playful smile. “Also please feel free to go into any nightmares you might’ve had in intricate detail! I looooove flipping through the night’s haul every morning! It’s like reading the newspaper at breakfast, but with more teeth falling out of someone’s head!”
While Dipper finally lost against the urge to wince in response, Stan flicked a thumb in Bill’s direction. “So, he do anything outside of be an annoying little nuisance all night?”
“Outside of that, no,” Ford answered, setting his pencil down. “But after a while, it grew easier to ignore him.”
“Okay, well, that’s even ruder than gossiping about someone while they’re in the same room,” Bill said with a scoff. “Honestly, somebody should give this family a few pointers on guest hospitality.”
Stan cast him a sideways look of disgust. “Little jerk really likes hearing himself talk, huh?”
“You have no idea,” Ford said wearily. “But hopefully he won’t be an issue for us much longer.”
“Did you find a way to deal with him?” Dipper asked.
Ford opened his mouth to reply, looked to Bill—
—then stood up in his chair. “Let’s discuss this out in the hallway.”
“Wow, again with the hallway meetings, huh?” Bill asked aloud. “While I’d normally be flattered at how often you chumps feel the need to play hush-hush with your plans, gossiping about someone where they can’t hear you is even ruder than doing it in the same room as them~!”
Despite his snark, Bill was elated by the thought of being left alone again. A few minutes to himself meant a chance to search for something sharp enough to cut his binds.
Sure, getting Ford to do it for him was still the preferable option. But if a chance to take care of the issue himself was presented to him, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth—
“Whaddabout him?”
Stan’s voice and pointed finger in his direction pulled Bill from his thoughts. “Think it’s safe to leave him all by himself?”
Bill’s brow furrowed at the question. Guess being a spoilsport ran in the family, huh?
Oh, well. Nothing he couldn’t twist in his favor. “What do you mean, Goldfish?” he asked with a kick of his feet. “I’m still just as tied up as I was last night, aren’t I? What could I possibly do while you’re all busy discussing Sixer’s oh-so-genius plan to get rid of me~?”
An even bigger risk than before. To reveal all of that to Ford was one thing, but to reveal it to other people?
Eh, Pine Tree hadn’t even picked up on his little laptop stunt last year and Goldfish was more brawn than brain—Bill could afford to play loose and fast here.
Dipper shot Bill an uneasy glare before turning his attention up to Stan. “I hate to agree with him, but he does have a point: what can he really do while he’s all tied up like that?”
Oh, Pine Tree, you wonderful, reliable idiot. “Yeah, yeah, listen to the kid!” Bill agreed. “Unless you feel like leaving him to babysit me~?”
Okay, well, that one wasn’t so much of a risk as it was sticking his hand in a bucket of defanged piranha—the end result was so pathetically safe and predictable that it was almost not worth the effort. And sure enough, Dipper’s immediate wincing at the suggestion proved that he had bluffed successfully. “Guess that’s a no, huh?” he asked with a flash of his teeth. “What’s wrong, Pine Tree? Don’t feel like spending some quality time with me? I know I could use the company, ol’ Fordsy over there was a total drag the entire night.”
He pointed a leg in the direction of the porcelain doll collection. “And like I was telling him earlier; in a pathetic, unevolved body like this, I couldn’t even settle for a conversation with the girls on the shelf over there! Such a shame, Lupita on the middle one looks like she has quite the tongue for gossip—”
“Alright, that’s it.”
Before anyone—Bill included—could react, Stan stormed over to the chair and lightly pushed it backwards onto the floor. And before Bill could let out more than an agitated “Hey—HEY!”, Stan nudged the chair forward with his foot until the top rail was tucked beneath the underside of Abuelita’s bed.
Leaving Bill unable to rotate the chair in any direction without the top clanging against the bed. And despite his best attempts to flail around helplessly, face reddening with anger by the second, the chair—and by extension, his own body—remained firmly in place on the ground.
Stan turned back to Ford with a grin. “So hallway, then?”
“Hallway.”
After a collective nod, the three of them shuffled out of the room. Leaving Bill to once again slump against his restraints with a huff and cast another glare in the direction of the porcelain shelf. “Not a single word outta you, Lupita!”
— — — — —
Once the door was pulled firmly shut behind them, Dipper asked: “Has he really been like that all night?”
“Sadly he picked up on the fact that I would’ve preferred not to use the gun unless absolutely necessary,” Ford explained, with a scrub at his weary eyes. “So he was probably taking advantage of that for as long as he could.”
“Yeesh,” Stan said with a wince. “So, uh—hate to go the gruesome route first, but why can’t we just take the little gremlin and—”
He held a pair of fingers to his temple and made a shooting motion with his hand. “I know it ain’t the best idea, what with the whole…you know—”
They turned towards Dipper in unison, who reached for his own arm with a grimace. “Oh…you guys saw it too, huh?”
“Kinda hard not to see it,” Stan pointed out, and glanced over at Ford again. “But uh—I’m guessing that’s the main reason we’re not trying it?”
“There are plenty of reasons why I’m abstaining from killing Bill in his current form,” Ford explained, before casting a sympathetic look to Dipper. “Although the resemblance to you is certainly one of the bigger reasons as to why I’m hesitant to try.”
Dipper gave him a small, grateful smile in return. “I mean, if it helps, I accidentally killed a ton of my own clones last year,” he said. “Plus I did have some pretty dark thoughts about what I wanted to do to Dippy Fresh in Mabel’s dream world.”
A nervous shrug. “So, you know, if you really have to kill him while he looks like me—”
His words were cut off with a weak laugh as Ford pressed a comforting hand to the top of his head. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind for sure,” he said, before both hand and smile fell again. “But there are other reasons as to why I’m hesitant. One of the main ones being that we have no way of knowing if killing the body would kill Bill himself.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Stan asked.
“Bill’s a creature of the mind,” Ford explained, pressing a finger to his temple. “One who lacks a physical form, and needs to resort to possessing those of us in the real world if he wishes to accomplish anything in this dimension.”
He gestured between himself and Dipper. “It’s why he had to use both Dipper and myself as his vessels on separate occasions.”
Stan’s gaze shifted awkwardly between them. “Oh, uh—right.”
“He mentioned something like that last year,” Dipper added. “About how if you don’t have a vessel, you’re basically a ghost in the mindscape.”
“Precisely,” Ford continued. “Based on his current appearance, he’s likely made some sort of deal with an unsuspecting person and claimed a new vessel as his own. But if a form of harm—or worse, death befell that vessel, it would leave the poor soul of whoever he’s possessing without a body, and him free to bounce around the mindscape again.”
He crossed his arms. “Which would just leave him completely unbound to our dimension and leave us back at square one.”
“So…if we can’t kill him and we can’t remove him from his vessel, then what can we do?” Dipper asked.
“Ah, well, I never said we couldn’t remove him from the vessel,” Ford pointed out. “I simply said that using the most drastic method available would be a poor decision, with no guarantee that it would actually kill Bill himself.”
A pause. “Plus there’s the natural reluctance that most people tend to face when presented with the idea of putting a bullet into a teenager’s head. Obviously.”
“I mean, if the kid’s possessed by someone who tried to destroy the universe, I don’t think anyone in their right mind’s gonna get huffy at you for pullin’ the trigger,” Stan pointed out. “But if we’re not doing that, then—what are we doing?”
“My current best idea is to take Bill down to my lab and try an artificial means of exhausting the body,” Ford explained. “In the hopes of exorcizing Bill from it in a safe and controlled environment, and to possibly bind him to a vessel where he’ll be unable to move around freely.”
He pressed a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Perhaps if we’re lucky, it will also grant the body’s original host a chance to retake control. And if they do, maybe they’ll be able to answer any further questions we might have regarding the situation. Answers we're surely not going to get from Bill himself."
He raised his hands in a shrug. “And even if none of that works, it might still give us a clearer picture as to what kind of possession we’re dealing with, and hopefully steer us towards a method that will actually kill Bill for good.”
Stan blinked. “...Now say it in layman’s terms for the kid, in case he didn’t catch that—”
“He’s going to try and make Bill so tired that he leaves the body, but can’t escape from the lab,” Dipper explained. “And move him to a vessel where he won’t cause more trouble and also doesn’t look like me, while maybe giving the original body back to whoever owned it.”
“Oh!” Stan said, and began to crack his fists. “Well, I mean—if you need a way to tire the little guy out, there’s nothin’ better than a good, old-fashioned round of fisticuffs—”
“No, Stanley,” Ford interrupted. “I appreciate both of you bringing me breakfast, but I’ll be handling this on my own.”
“Wh—” Stan’s hands fell to his side. “Seriously? You’re really not gonna let anyone help you with this?”
“Yeah, I’ve gotta side with Grunkle Stan on this one,” Dipper added. “You said yourself that you’ve been up all night, having to listen to Bill do everything he can to get under your skin. Are you sure you don’t want any help dealing with him now that the rest of us are awake?”
A shrug. ”Or, you know, someone to at least watch him while you take a nap?”
“Atta boy, Dip,” Stan praised, before pointing a finger at his brother. “Like I said last night, I can watch over Bill for you while you get some sleep. If you don’t want me to kill him, I won’t—I’ll just keep an eye on him—”
“I believe I gave my answer last night,” Ford said firmly, turning back to the door. “I’ve got a few plans in mind, and if it turns out that I’m unable to accomplish this goal on my own, only then will I ask for help.”
“...Will you?”
Ford’s hand froze just above the doorknob, and he turned back to Stanley with a raised eyebrow. “Come again?”
“Will you ask for help?” Stan repeated with more boldness as he leaned closer. “Because you’ve got a guy who’s practically throwin’ himself at you to help, and you keep saying you can handle this by yourself.”
“I said I will ask for help if I’m unable to handle it by myself, Stanley,” Ford replied, narrowing his eyes. “And so far, I’ve been able to handle it just fine—”
“Uh, maybe I should just—”
Dipper shifted uncomfortably in place, before taking a step backwards. A motion that caused both men to turn to him with looks of concern. “It’s alright, Dipper, you can go,” Ford reassured him with a smile. “And thank you for bringing me breakfast, I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, go on and get, kiddo,” Stan added with a wave. “Actually, why don’t you go check on your sister, or somethin’? Don’t know if she got any food in her.”
“Hmm, come to think of it, I don’t think she did,” Dipper mused thoughtfully. “I should probably go fix that, huh?”
He turned and hurried back down the hall, the older men waiting until he disappeared from sight to face each other again. “Come on, Ford,” Stan asked, flicking a thumb towards the door. “You’ve been at this all night, and the only idea you’ve got isn’t even one that’s gonna kill him.”
“I realize it’s not the best idea,” Ford said. “But if it works, we can always trap Bill in a safer environment and—”
“And what, stay up for another week as you keep looking for a way to actually kill him?” Stan interrupted. “And what happens if you don’t find one? Are you just gonna stay up forever and let this Bill stuff takes over your life again?”
“If I have to, then yes,” Ford said firmly, and turned to face the door again. “What other choice do I have, let Bill wander around freely and attempt to destroy the universe again?”
“You have the choice to let someone else babysit the little jerk while you rest for five minutes!”
Much like the evening prior, Ford felt a hand clasp his shoulder tightly. “Ford, just—don’t you remember what I said at the bus stop yesterday?” Stan asked, pleaded. “About not having to deal with anything by ourselves ever again? What, did you think I was lying when I said that?”
Ford froze at that question, hand less than an inch from the doorknob.
He wasn’t lying. Of course he wasn’t lying.
But that was the issue in itself.
His shoulders tensed beneath Stan’s hand as his thoughts drifted back to the events of the previous day. Those looks Stanley had given him after their arrival, the way he’d dodged his concerns back at the mermaid tank.
Ford had initially written them off as his own paranoia, as something to not concern himself over. But Stan had said as much himself yesterday; he would toss himself in front of another blast of the Memory Gun to protect his family again. So willing to let himself burn if it meant keeping the others warm.
Was it truly his paranoia talking when it came to those thoughts? Or—
“I don’t know, Stanley. Were you?”
The question escaped Ford’s mouth before he could stop himself, leaving Stan to stare at him with a perplexed look. “What? Whaddaya talkin’ about?”
Ford hesitated to reply at first, but eventually continued with: “You said we could talk to each other about anything. But ever since we’ve arrived at the Shack, you keep looking at me like you’ve got something you need to say but refuse to say it.”
“Again, I ask: whaddaya talkin’ about?”
“The way you looked at me last night at dinner,” Ford explained. “And…and back at the mermaid tank when we were talking with the others. You kept looking at me like you wanted to tell me something, but the one time I actually asked you if anything’s wrong, you just brushed it off with a joke!”
He folded his arms. “How am I supposed to believe you when you say we don’t have to deal with hardships by ourselves anymore when you can’t even grant me the same courtesy in return?”
Stan blinked at him a few times, before his eyes narrowed. “Are you ki—you cannot be serious, Stanford! Are you really not letting me help you deal with Bill because—because you think I’m hiding something from you?!”
The implications of what Stan had said hit them both like a truck, any aggravation that had been building between them instantly replaced with identical looks of shock. Shock that lingered for a few, agonizingly long seconds before—
“You know what, I need to get back to work,” Ford said, and spun to face the bedroom door again.
“Ford, I—”
It was as far as he got before the door slammed shut in his face.
Stan lingered where he stood, too stunned to properly move or react. And much like the previous evening, the idea of barging into the room after Ford once again flashed to the front of his mind.
Barging in, making a scene—heck, he even eyed the dent on the wall where Ford had swung a fist the night before, his own hand balling into a fist as the temptation to follow suit swelled inside him.
But despite the red flooding his vision, he still had enough of a grasp on his common sense to know that making a whole scene—especially in front of Bill—would only make things more difficult for Ford. It would only push him further away, only make him close himself off even more than he already was, only make him bury himself further in his work and sleepless isolation—
“Are you really not letting me help deal with Bill because—because you think I’m hiding something from you?!”
If he hadn’t done that already, after implying that Ford—the man who had spent several decades being lied to and manipulated by the very same demon in the next room—was just being paranoid because he didn’t want Stan to help.
“Well, we have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines.”
That Ford’s accusations about him were just based on nothing.
“None of this would’ve happened without you, Great-Uncle Ford!”
That Ford had been anything but completely right about him.
Great. Great.
Just another way he’d royally screwed things up.
It took every ounce of restraint that Stan could possibly muster to once again force his balled fist to his side, before he turned and stormed back down the hallway.
And once he was sure that Ford wouldn’t be able to hear him, he finally swung it hard at the wall near the stairs, the wood splintering beneath his knuckles with a loud cracking sound.
A sound that unfortunately attracted the attention of the remaining kitchen-goers, Soos poking his head out less than a second later. “Mr. Pines? Is everything okay?” he asked. “Are you still hungry? Melody made more bacon—”
Stan barely managed a grunt and a “Goin’ out to the boat!” in response before he continued onwards out the front door—he left it ajar; Soos would close it behind him and Stan knew for a fact that if he tried to close it himself, the slam would be loud enough to wake up the entire town—down the porch steps and towards the direction of the boat at the edge of the yard.
— — — — — — — —
“You know, most people would be mad about being left on the floor while you went out in the hallway to gossip with your blowhard brother and a kid who probably has Baby’s First Conspiracies memorized cover to cover—”
Clank, clank.
“—but lucky for you, Fordsy, I’m in just as much of a forgiving mood as I was yesterday—”
Clank, clank.
“Honestly, I kinda like laying down on the floor like this! In fact, I could stay here forever!”
While Bill continued to rock his body back and forth—causing the top of the chair to clank loudly against the underside of the bed—Ford remained with his back to the door, too submerged in his own troubling thoughts to pay him any mind.
“Are you really not letting me help deal with Bill because—because you think I’m hiding something from you?!”
The question was like a chilling rush of ice water to his veins. Stanley really thought that he wasn’t letting him help because he didn’t trust him? After all they’d experienced together, after everything they’d gone through—
After everything that Stanley had sacrificed to save the universe, Ford had the gall to imply right to the man’s face that he didn’t trust him? To imply that Stan was being secretive about something, based on evidence as miniscule as responding strangely to a question about his mood? A response that Ford himself had originally brushed off as his own paranoia getting the better of him?
And what had changed about that original mindset to cause such doubt in Ford’s mind? Stanley’s constant insistence to help deal with Bill? A natural response to have when someone he cared about was in need?
Yeah, definitely worthy of the cruel accusations Ford had tossed at him.
He remained rigid against the door, and it was only once he heard the telltale sound of floorboards creaking their way up the hallway on the other side that he finally moved back to the chair and his waiting breakfast.
“Not even a look at me, huh?” Bill piped up from the floor. “Wow, did your chat really go that badly?”
He kicked his legs straight up into the air with a thoughtful look. “Come to think of it, that’s what—twice now that you’ve gone out into the hallway with him and come back looking worse than you normally do? And here I thought I was joking when I said the two of you were fighting.”
Devilish laughter followed his remark, and he gave the top of the chair another clank against the bed. “But even after nine months and a homemade bout of amnesia, you Pines twins really can’t get along, can you?”
Ford stuffed a piece of bacon into his mouth, fighting desperately to keep his attention fixed on his plate of food. A repeat of his unsaid sentiments from the previous evening; that damned demon could chatter on all he wanted.
He could say whatever he wanted, tease him however he wanted—
He finally turned back to his list of potential ideas, gaze landing on the one he had underlined earlier in the morning.
He swapped his plate for the notes and returned to where Bill was still situated. After a few more clanks of his legs against the chair, Bill flashed him a wide grin. “Aw, have you decided to finally pick me up—oh, actually, you have.”
Ford grabbed the end of the chair leg and pulled it out from beneath the bed, Bill’s grin only widened further as he set the entire thing back up in a standing position. “Well, well, well, you’re finally listening to me again,” he said smugly. “It’s about time you—hey, what are you doing?”
While Bill had prattled on, Ford had moved to the rope by the wall—the one that had been abandoned for most of the night. Originally he’d planned on using it to tie Bill’s legs to the chair, but circumstances had prevented him from getting around to actually accomplishing that throughout the course of the evening.
If anything, that had worked out in Ford’s favor. If he was truly going to try his attempt at exorcizing Bill, this would save him a trip to the storage room.
After slinging the rope over his shoulder, he returned to the chair and placed his hand on the back, before scooping it up from the floor in one fluid motion. Further ignoring Bill’s follow up remark of: “Welp, guess we’re leaving~! Too bad, I was starting to grow fond of those porcelain dolls! They’re great nightmare fuel!”, he kept his grip on the chair and lead both of them out into the hallway.
Leaving the barely touched plate and scrapped pile of ideas abandoned in the room.
— — — — — —
Dipper trudged up the stairs and towards the room at the back of the attic, the sound of Mabel’s voice growing louder and clearer as he approached the bedroom door; “Yeah, sorry, things got a little crazy last night,” she was saying. “We literally got into town and the bus had to stop because some gnomes and Lilliputtians were fighting in the middle of the road!”
“Did you snap any pics?” Another voice piped up.
A long, sad sigh. “No, we didn’t think to at the time. Sorry, I know you would’ve loved it.”
Dipper pushed the door to the bedroom open to the sight of Mabel seated near her bed, phone in hand as Dev continued to speak through it: “Eh, no worries, you guys have all summer,” they said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get pics of all the other weird stuff that town has to offer.”
“Hey, Dev!” Dipper called as he approached the bed. “Just letting you know that I’m now in the room, so no making kissy faces at each other!”
“Psh, who says?” Mabel asked. “We can make kissy faces at each other all we want, whenever we want!”
“Hey, Dip!” Dev called in return. “Mabel was just telling me about your busy first day, and why she forgot to call.”
“So I heard. Hey, scoot over.”
Mabel obliged, and he planted himself down on the floor next to her. “Did she tell you about how we got carried up to the shack by a Manotaur?”
“Ugh, you guys have all the luck!” Dev whined. “I wish I could’ve convinced Aaron to let me join you guys up there for the summer!”
“Ehh, I don’t know about that one, Dev,” Dipper began. “It wasn’t all gnomes and Manotaurs once we got back to town. See, after we got to the Shack—”
“Our Grunkle Ford had to deal with a whollleeee lot of old business stuff!” Mabel interrupted quickly. “Lots of nerd stuff—not the cool nerd stuff that you like, boring nerd stuff—that might keep him busy all summer, and we might not get to spend as much time with him as we thought we would.”
“Aww, boo,” Dev said supportively. “You were so excited about getting to spend the summer with him! You even made that sweater and everything!”
“Right?! But hopefully he gets it all dealt with in time for us to do lots of fun Grunkle-and-great-niece-slash-nephew activities!”
She paused for a moment. “Ugh, that’s a mouthful. What’s a better way to say great-niece-and-nephew?”
“...Gniece and Gnephew?” Dev suggested. “Like gnome but the g isn’t silent?”
Mabel’s eyes went wide and she clutched the phone to her cheek. “Ugh, you’re the SMARTEST smarty-pants in the world~!” she cooed, kicking her feet. “I’m soooo gonna use that now!”
“Anyway, sorry for not checking in last night, Dev,” Dipper chimed in. “Just assume that if we go a while without calling you, we’re probably being held captive by like…mutant tree people or something.”
“Wait, you guys have mutant tree people up there?!” Dev asked excitedly. “Maaaaan—next year I’ve gotta convince Aaron to let me go up there with you guys—”
There was a muffled shout in the background, before Dev said: “Oh, he’s calling me down to breakfast, I’ve gotta go.”
“No problem, we’re supposed to be eating breakfast now, too,” Dipper added.
“Bye, Dev~!” Mabel said sweetly. “We’ll talk to you later~!”
“Bye, Dev! What Mabel said.”
“I love you!”
“—also that, but platonically!”
“Later, guys!” Dev called. “Hope you get a chance to spend time with your Great-Uncle Ford, and don’t forget to snag me an autograph if you can!”
“Dev—” Dipper said with a laugh. “I’m telling you, he’s just a regular guy.”
“Remind me again: how long did you spend searching for him last year?”
“...Point taken. Talk to you later.”
There was a click and the phone went silent, before Mabel slapped it shut. “Aww, I wish we could’ve convinced Aaron to let Dev come with us on our trip up here!” she lamented with a sigh. “He’s usually so cool, I don’t know why he said no!”
“Maybe because you told him about how one of our great-uncles stole the other’s identity for thirty years,” Dipper reminded her. “While the other spent that time traveling around the Multiverse. I mean, what older brother would want their younger sibling to spend the entire summer with two old men like that?”
“Uh, the coolest older brother?” Mabel replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh well. Maybe we can convince Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford to come down to Piedmont for Hanukkah this year. They can meet him then, and then he’ll be willing to let Dev spend next summer here with us~! Perfect plan!”
“Yeah, perfect plan,” Dipper said. “As long as they’ve gotten rid of Bill by then.”
An uneasy silence fell over the room, the twins’ gazes shifting away from each other as Mabel suddenly found herself very interested in the pattern on the floorboards while Dipper reached up to fiddle with his hat. “So you didn’t tell Dev about Bill’s return, I’m guessing?”
“Nuh-uh,” Mabel confirmed in a low voice.
“...You know, what I said yesterday about talking to Mayor Tyler still applies,” Dipper continued. “I mean, he’s dating Wendy’s dad now and he seemed really excited to see us when we got back to town. Maybe if we ask—”
“Race you downstairs to finish that breakfast we didn’t eat!”
Before Dipper could continue, Mabel had leapt to her feet and was bolting for the door. Dipper blinked in surprise, before leaping to his feet as well and hurrying after her with a shout of: “Mabel, wait, you didn’t let me finish—”
Mabel simply laughed in response as the two of them raced their way back down to the first floor—
“Well, well, well, looks like Shooting Star’s awake too~!”
—only for that laughter to get caught in her throat as she reached the bottom step, eyes wide at the sight that waited before her.
Ford was just coming up from the hallway, Bill’s chair clutched tightly in his hand as he walked. And upon hearing Bill’s greeting to Mabel, Ford gave the chair a warning shake.
To Mabel, however, he gave a warm, tired smile. “Good morning, Mabel.”
“Uh, good morning, Grunkle Ford…”
Mabel couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on the restrained figure in the chair, one who cast her a wide smile full of teeth. “Sleep well~?” he asked. “Heard your brother had an uneasy night—”
“Hey, I didn’t say that!” Dipper piped up, as he came down the stairs behind Mabel. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”
“Aw, but putting words in other people’s mouths is so fun,” Bill insisted. “All you gotta do is take one word, pluck it outta someone’s head, and then just slap another word in its place! You can make even the most serious and no-nonsense chumps say all kinds of silly words when you do!”
He jerked his head towards Ford. “Like ol’ Fordsy here—go ahead and try to get him to say the word ‘burden’!” he said with a bat of his eyelashes. “Come on, you know you wanna~!”
As Dipper and Mabel both winced in discomfort, Soos peered his head out from the kitchen. “Good morning!” he greeted cheerfully, before his gaze fell to Bill. “Uh, that doesn’t apply to you, triangle dude.”
“So grateful you spelled that out for me, Question Mark,” Bill said with bright sarcasm. “Otherwise I never would’ve caught it~!”
“Oh, uh—you’re welcome, then? I guess?”
“Nobody pay him any mind,” Ford instructed. “We’re simply passing through on our way down to the basement.”
“Yeah, nobody pay me any mind,” Bill chimed. “Unless they’re really valuable, of course!”
He laughed at his own joke with a kick of his feet. “I’m just kidding: I’ll take any mind as a form of payment, even the dumb ones!” he said, with a wink in Soos’ direction. “I’m talkin’ to you, Big Guy, I know for a fact you’re not using yours!”
“Ugh, is there any way to get him to stop talking?” Wendy piped up from behind Soos, a moment before she propped herself against the kitchen doorframe. “Can’t Mr. Pines pop him in the other eye or something?”
“He coooould,” Bill taunted. “If him and Sixer weren’t fiiiiighting~!”
He laughed as Ford gave the chair another shake, while Mabel stared in confusion. “You and Grunkle Stan are fighting?”
“As I said, Mabel, pay him no mind,” Ford instructed. “Nothing that comes out of his mouth is to be trusted in any sense.”
“Well, uh,” Dipper started awkwardly. “Do you know where Grunkle Stan went after you guys talked? I don’t think he ate much of his breakfast before we went to bring you yours, so—”
“I know where he went,” Wendy began, before her eyes fell to Bill. “He—he came up the hallway, then headed outside to the boat. Didn’t say why, though.”
“I did ask if he wanted any more food, though,” Soos added. “But he just kinda grunted and didn’t really give me an answer. Which is a pretty normal Mr. Pines reply, but still—breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so I hope he’s alright!”
“Sounds to me like he’s going outside to sulk because somebody doesn’t want him around,” Bill said, once again tilting his head in Ford’s direction. “But I guess they didn’t hear that from me, did they?”
Ford glowered at him for a brief moment, before turning towards the living room doorway. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be down in the basement dealing with our little…problem.”
“Oh, wait one second, Dr. Pines!” Melody called from the kitchen, seconds before leaning into view from the doorway. “Before you go, I just wanted to ask about the party tonight. And, uh—whether or not we should still have it after—”
She gestured towards Bill with the spatula, upon which he flashed her a smile. “Aww, you chumps were going to have a party?” he asked. “Well, don’t stop on my account! I dunno if anyone’s told you, Newbie, but I’m quite the party fanatic myself~! Practically invented the word!”
Melody raised an eyebrow. “Newbie?”
“He does nicknames,” Wendy explained with a wave of her hand. “It’s a thing, don’t worry about it.”
“Ignoring him, please feel free to have the party as initially planned,” Ford instructed Melody. “I assume you’ve already passed out invitations, and canceling at the last minute would arouse more suspicion than just hosting the party anyway.”
“Okay, well, if you’re sure,” Soos said, casting him a small grin. “You—uh, think you’ll be done in time to join us? It’s a party for you too, you know?”
Ford looked to him, then silently to Bill—who only widened his cheeky little grin further as he waited for an answer—
—before passing through living room doorway in silence, letting the chair thump down the small step and to the carpet as he dragged it behind him. With a vocal complaint from Bill in the form of: “Hey, hey! You could at least carry me all the way, you jerk!”, Ford continued onwards towards the door to the gift shop on the other side of the room.
The rest of the group watched them go, and looked to each other once the two of them disappeared from sight past the swinging door. “So, uh—guess we should start prepping the shack for the party then, huh?” Soos asked the rest of them.
“Probably,” Melody agreed. “We didn’t get around to cleaning up the exhibits yesterday, so there’s a lot to do if we want to be ready by tonight.”
“Ughh, does that mean I have to work on my day off?” Wendy started with a groan—
—before casting a look to the twins still on the stairs, gazes still focused on the vacant living room doorway. “—ah, well, I guess it’s a good chance to show off our new way of cleaning things up around here.”
She flashed them a grin. “I could use a couple of assistants to help me out, though. Whaddaya say, dorks?”
Dipper pulled his gaze away from the door frame to look at her. “You want our help?”
“No, I’m talking to the other pair of twins standing in the exact same spot as you two,” Wendy said with a laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Or as fun as cleaning can get—”
She shrugged. “I know that’s not very convincing, but seriously, I could really use someone to talk to while I work. Make the boring stuff less boring, y’know?”
This got a smile out of Dipper, and he leaned over to nudge his sister. “Come on, let’s leave Ford to do what he’s gotta do and go distract ourselves for a bit,” he urged. “Besides, I’m sure Melody will let you toss up as many streamers as you want if you ask.”
“I will!” Melody confirmed from the doorway.
Mabel didn’t take her eyes off the living room doorway at first, but the draw of streamers finally moved her attention back to the rest of the group. “As many as I want?”
“We have at least a hundred rolls at the ready,” Soos said with a thumbs up. “When we told the lady at Party Metropolis what—and who—they were for, she sold us her entire stock.”
Mabel’s mouth curled into a wide smile. “We~ell, I guess that’s a start—”
“Atta girl,” Wendy said with a wink, before making her way to the front door. “Come on, I can’t wait to show you guys how we clean everything up now—”
While Dipper rushed after her with just as much gusto, Mabel trailed slowly behind them, casting a hesitant look in the direction of the living room before the door swung shut behind her.
The shack was quiet now, leaving only Soos and Melody left in the kitchen doorway. After a moment, Melody turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Hey, did either of them eat any breakfast?”
“Don’t think so,” Soos replied. “Don’t think Mr. Pines ate much either. And I know we had Dipper bring Dr. Pines some food, but that was only a few minutes ago and he didn’t have it when he headed for the basement.”
He waved his hands. “So unless he picked up some kinda superpowers in the Multiverse that let him—I dunno, inhale all his food in one big gulp or something, it’s a tossup if he actually ate anything,” he said, before pressing one hand to his chin. “Either way, I should probably go get that plate from Abuelita’s room.”
With a smile, Melody ducked back into the kitchen. “You take care of that while I’ll go ahead and stick four premade plates of food in the fridge for later,” she said. “They’ll eat when they get hungry, right? And if not…then we have four ready-made plates to eat later.”
“You’re so smart,” Soos said, giving her a smile as he head towards the hall. “I want the last of that lasagna though, babe! You did such a good job making it!”
“Soos, it was premade.”
“Well, you can heat up a premade pasta better than anyone I know!”
— — — — — — — —
The elevator rumbled slowly as it descended beneath the house, the vibrations making the chair—and Bill by extension—bounce slightly in place.
It didn’t take a genius to guess where the two of them were going, and a cheeky smile was widening across Bill’s face as they continued downwards. “So, Sixer, taking me down to the lab?” he asked. “Gonna run a few tests? Maybe poke me with a couple of needles?”
He tilted his head closer to Ford. “Come ooooon, I know you can’t resist a chance to take some sample blood!” he said cheerfully. “And if I know anything about you mortals, it’s that you’ve got a LOT of blood to spare~!”
Ford remained silent, gaze fixed ahead as the elevator finally slowly to a stop, with the small ding of a bell signaling their arrival. Once the doors slid open, he grabbed the back of the chair and dragged it with him as he stepped out into the—
—private study.
Huh?
Bill had expected Ford to take them all the way down to the main laboratory for whatever plans he had in mind. More privacy, the wide open space of the portal room acting as a nostalgic backdrop for the both of them…
He couldn’t possibly imagine why Ford would bring them to his stuffy old study instead.
The chair legs clattered loudly against the floor as Ford dragged him through the room, past all the various collections he had accrued over his years of study. Collections that Bill couldn’t help but take a look at while he was pulled along.
Sure, he’d seen plenty of them more times than he could count—whether it was through Stanford’s eyes or the eyes of one of the countless triangles that he had once kept in his home. But hey, long time no see and Bill was always happy to see!
Besides, maybe he’d finally get a proper look at his vessel’s face for the first time while the two of them were down here. He hadn’t missed the fact that nobody in the household had followed up on his request for a mirror, and he could feel the curiosity about his vessel’s appearance rising with each passing minute.
They probably weren’t very tall, judging by the stubby length of the legs he had stared at—and kicked obnoxiously against his chair—for most of the night. And the way that Ford and Stan had towered over him while he was seated only added more credibility to this theory.
Had Birdbrain given him a short vessel as revenge for all the short jokes he had previously tossed their way? If that was the case, then somebody was being very immature.
Aside from that, a few glances at his hands and the fluff of blond hair that hung down over his eyes, he was completely clueless about what his vessel actually looked like.
Ford continued to drag him through the study and towards the far space at the back of the room. A space that brought an elated sparkle to Bill’s eyes once he realized where they were heading. “Oh, we’re going over here~?” he asked delightedly. “Man, I haven’t seen the shrine in age—oh.”
His initial excitement died in his throat as Ford finally stopped and set the chair in place, allowing Bill to get a clearer look at the area around him.
Gone were the golden statues and shimmering prisms resembling his likeness, and the usual tapestries of deep red and gold—each thread stitched with care by Ford’s own hand; he had really gone the extra mile back then—were now replaced with nothing but dreary-gray walls and assorted garbage that Ford had yet to clean up.
The beloved shrine that had once been Ford’s glorious tribute to Bill’s greatness, his godliness—
Gone. Completely torn down.
To add insult to injury, Ford had set the chair down right in the very center of the mess—withered ruins of a once-magnificent display—and made his way over to his workspace. Leaving Bill to stew in his bitterness as he cast a sour look around him, gaze landing on the only thing left near him outside of the discarded trash.
More specifically, an elaborate computer system with its main screen completely busted.
Ford might’ve attempted to cut him off before creating Project Mentem, but having eyes everywhere allowed him to keep tabs on things outside the mindscape.
And boy howdy, he had sure kept tabs on Ford after his cruel and unwarranted betrayal. Even going so far as to rip handfuls of wires out of the machine whenever Ford’s body succumbed to sleep, setting his progress on the project back further and further.
Sure, that problem had temporarily solved itself in the form of the Portal incident, but Ford had gotten straight to work upon his return and finally finished the project to completion.
Yeesh, between that and the destruction of the portal, Ford had really spent the entire month-and-a-half after returning to this dimension being as inconvenient to Bill as possible.
A brief spike of panic shot through Bill as the thought of Ford using the machine on him bubbled to the front of his mind. The technology was designed to scramble minds and make reading them near impossible—although for the record, Stanford, he would’ve eventually found some kind of work-around for that—but Bill also knew that before the scrambling process began, the machine would project all those thoughts onto the screen itself.
A weird design choice on Ford’s end, but in an indirect way, it granted him his own artificial method of reading minds.
Sure, the machine had been damaged shortly after completion—oh, Bill had to give Pine Tree some praise in that regard; probably one of the most useful things the little pipsqueak had done in his entire life. But if Ford had been smart enough to understand the complex, multidimensional schematics that Bill had provided for him for the portal’s construction, then repairing some fancy-schmancy thought scrambler would be child’s play.
If Ford managed to get Project Mentem working again, there was a chance that he could snag a glimpse at the deal Bill had made with Tangy. To see a lot of things that he had no business seeing, to know things he had no business knowing—
Hold on a second.
Bill continued to stare hard at the old computer, gaze fixed on one of the smaller, undamaged monitors. The screen was decades old—a tried-and-true relic of the early nineteen-eighties, much like the rest of the technology that Ford and his…assistant had used for their inventions around that point in time—and the inactivity of the machine left a dark reflection of the room and anyone in it on the glass.
And while the angle Bill was situated at made it difficult for him to get a clear look with his functional eye, he could almost make out his vessel’s face. If only he could turn his head at juuuust the right angle—
“Hey—hey!”
And suddenly his head was guided—jerked back to the front by a firm hand around his jaw, and Bill found himself face-to-face with Ford.
He expected to see the same anger in his eyes that he’d been subjected to for the past several hours. But Ford’s expression was more studious, pupils darting back and forth behind his old lenses in deep concentration—
“ACK!”
A small flash of light was shone in his functional eye before Bill had time to brace himself, and he shrank away from it as best he could—despite Ford’s hand keeping both his head and the small flashlight in place. “Hey, come on,” he griped, snapping his eyelid closed with a nasty look. “Trying to kill me is one thing, but blinding me’s a low blow, even for you!”
Eventually the light was shifted to his right eye, and Ford kept it there for a moment before finally clicking the small flashlight off and tucking it back into his coat. “Had a feeling…”
Despite his irritation towards being manhandled, Bill raised an eyebrow at that remark. Outside of the occasional threat, Ford hadn’t said anything to him the entire night he’d been back.
Granted, his remark was more about him than to him, but it was close enough to count! “Oh, so are you finally ready to talk to me, Sixer?” he tried with a cutesy bat of his eyelashes. “Because lemme tell ya: after being rudely ignored all night, I’m not so sure I’m even in the mood to—hey!”
And now Ford had both his jaw and forehead in a tight grip, keeping his mouth propped open for a moment so he could look inside. “Dental structure appears normal,” he mused quietly. “Canines have already grown in, second molars—”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re researching me,” Bill said with a perturbed scowl once Ford finally let go of his head to scribble down his findings. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m flattered and open to answering any questions you might have about me.”
He flashed Ford a grin. “But like I warned your brother last night, I’d advise against sticking those freaky hands of yours anywhere near these puppies, unless you feel like going from six fingers to five!” he said with a snap of his teeth. “I’d advise against it, though. Those extra fingers of yours are probably your best qualities—can you stop?!”
Ford’s hands were back on his head, this time to push that blonde tuft of hair out of his eyes—
“Oh.”
Ford’s curious stare at his forehead gave Bill pause for a moment, and he raised an eyebrow. “What? What’s with the ominous ‘oh’-ing?”
Ford continued to stare in silence for a few seconds, before turning back to his notes to scribble something down.
“Hey, you tell me what you’ve written right now!” Bill demanded, face hot with anger. “Do you hear me, Sixer?! You don’t get to poke and prod me like a lump of flesh clay and then just sit there and not tell me what you’re writing!”
Despite Bill’s ire, Ford ignored him in favor of finishing his notes, only stopping to reach for the rope he had grabbed from the bedroom. And as Bill watched, he laid the rope in a perfect circle on the floor around the chair and himself.
Yeesh, whether it was through a sketch in a notebook, spray paint on the ground, or with a simple rope, Ford really did have a knack for creating near-perfect circles. An impressive talent, although Bill had always—and understandably—favored his ability to draw a perfect equilateral triangle far more than some silly circles.
Once Ford had closed the circle, he moved to one of the nearby storage cupboards for the needed moonstones and vial of mercury. “You know, I feel like you’re being a biiiiit excessive with all of this, Fordsy,” Bill piped up. “I mean, I’m already bound pretty tightly over here. What’s another spell circle going to do?”
Rather than reply, Ford set the remaining objects in place and returned to his desk to fiddle with something just out of Bill’s line of sight—despite several failed attempts on Bill’s end to stretch his body far enough to get a peek. And after a few minutes, he stepped away again and made his way towards the spiral staircase on the other side of the study.
Bill continued to watch as he descended upwards and towards the level that waited just above the room; a hallway that connected to the cellar beneath one side of the shack, an additional hidden entrance that opened up to the house on the other, and a bathroom smack dab in the very center. All of which was comfortably situated just beneath the stairwell on the upper floor.
All in all, a general area that provided solutions to more than one type of emergency.
It was only when Ford disappeared completely from sight near the top of the stairs that Bill turned his attention back to the desk. So Mister Brainiac wanted to play sneaky with his plans, did he? Well, if there was anything he should’ve picked up on last night, it was that he should’ve used that extra rope to restrain Bill’s legs!
Or maybe not, since that would’ve only inconvenienced him further.
With an inhale of breath, Bill leaned backwards in the chair before throwing all of body weight forward and bringing himself to his feet. He wasn’t quite used to using his new human limbs yet—let alone with a whole chair on his back—but all he needed to do was get within reach of something sharp long enough to cut his ropes.
Sure, the circle on the floor limited his range of motion, but the rope had been placed right up against the broken monitors. Maybe if he angled the legs of the chair enough, he could get a piece of glass from the broken computer monitor within his line of reach. All he needed to do was take a few wobbly steps—
“Oh, come on!”
—wobblier than expected, apparently. For it was one humiliating crash later that Bill found himself as acquainted with the hardwood floor as he had been with the rug back in Abuelita’s bedroom.
His face was smushed against the ground in a way that barred his sight of the stairs. But he could hear Ford stomping back down them in an instant—likely to investigate the source of the crashing sound—and it was only a few seconds later that an unseen hand gripped the back of the chair and hoisted it up off the floor.
Both chair and Bill were rotated forward again, and his own glare met Ford’s as the two of them stared at each other in furious silence. “See, I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Bill finally said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re not the one who keeps giving the floorboards the wrong impression about what kinda shape I am.”
He tilted his head dramatically. “With how often my face meets the floor, these poor planks probably see me as some kind of…woodwork womanizer at this point~! My reputation’s gonna take ages to recover from such a scathing blow!”
He dropped the theatrics for a moment to roll his eyes. “Or at least, it would if I actually cared about that kinda thing, haha!”
With a huff, Ford set the chair back in place with a solid thunk of the chair legs, only to step just out of range when Bill tried to kick at him. “And seriously, would it kill you to put some carpet or a rug down in here?”
“I had a rug.”
“Yeah, well, what happened to—”
Any further protests died in Bill’s throat under Ford’s narrowed glare, and he looked away with a muttered: “...Could’ve just bought another one.” as Ford returned to his desk.
— — — — — — —
Even as far back as their childhood, Stan had often teased Ford for the way he organized things. Whether it was his half of their dresser drawers, his school binders—
—heck, even his beloved journals of all the Whatchamacallits and Whatsittoyas of Gravity Falls had been organized to some degree.
Granted, everything was always organized in an incredibly-nerdy way—one that only Stanford Pines and Stanford Pines alone could properly decipher. Sorting sock brands by alphabetical order? Academic awards by height and medal quality?
And organized didn’t always mean clean. Even a complete and total memory wipe hadn’t managed to make Stan forget the time he had come home to most of Ford’s science books and countless sheets of paper with associated scribblings scattered around the bedroom. All of which Ford had insisted that Stan not move in the slightest, because he was ‘on the verge of completing a super important experiment for the science fair, and couldn’t afford to move a single paper’.
Wait, had it been for the science fair? It could’ve just been some random project—whatever, it didn’t matter at the moment.
Regardless of his eccentric methods—and how often Stan had ended up spending the night on the living room couch to avoid another one of his brother’s nerdy all-nighters—the fact of the matter was that Ford was an expert in keeping his stuff organized. A place for everything and everything in its place, and all that other jazz Ma had always taught them growing up.
And despite Stan reacting to such behavior in the only way he knew how to react—juvenile, brotherly teasing with the occasional noogie for good measure—Ford had always gotten the upper hand in the end whenever they needed to locate something in a hurry.
And thankfully that mindset had carried over to adulthood, and included his notes on all of the oddities that the two of them had discovered during their sea travels across the past nine months.
It had taken Stan about two minutes to locate Ford’s notes after he finally managed to calm down from the events that had unfolded inside the shack. Whether or not that also took two minutes was up for debate—if there was a universe out there where two minutes and ten minutes were the exact same length of time.
Yeesh, Stan could practically hear Ford in his head at the very thought, going off on elaborate story about how he’d actually jumped through several dimensions where time worked like that during his travels.
His grip on the saltwater-stained notebook tightened as he moved to the counter at the back of the cabin, and set it down in front of him before flipping open to the first page.
It wasn’t the best idea in the world, since it limited their options to sea-based methods. And unless that little triangle twerp had some unknown weakness to water, they probably wouldn’t get anywhere with just the one notebook.
But for now, it was an idea.
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Oscar Piastri x reader who is super talkative and can ramble for hours on end?
She's A Yapper - OP81
No part 2 requests please
Some people might say that Oscar and y/n aren't well paid. Those people would be wrong. And Oscar will tell them as much.
Before he met y/n, admittedly his world was a lot more quiet and held a lot less philosophical questions to think about. But he's also say it was boring and y/n's perspective on the world, which she tells him all about because sharing her thoughts with him is a way that she shares her love, is one of the best thing he can listen to during his day.
Zak has overhead y/n talking before and joked that y/n is like Oscar's own personal podcast.
"Did you know that some the stars we see are dead? Because the speed of light means that we're seeing them how they were 4000 years ago." Y/n states making Oscar smile since he does sometimes wonder not only where y/n learns this stuff but where she stores it all. "A lot of them are still alive but some of them are dead."
"I hope your favourites aren't dead." Oscar comments making her turn and grin, and it's the grin she gets when she's about to make an awful cheesy comment. Something she does often just because it makes Oscar all flustered, no matter how bad it is.
"Well my favourite and brightest star is definitely very fit and alive. Aren't you?"
Oscar groans shaking his head at her while she just grins proudly at him then stealing a kiss while his face is flushed.
"Baby, that was bad." Oscar laughs lightly before smiling as she just shrugs unapologetic about it.
"I think one day we should go to one of those astronomy places where they project the sky onto the ceiling and just talk about the stars."
Y/n would get bored after 10 minutes and Oscar would probably fall asleep, it also won't happen because y/n has a million and ten date ideas that have been suggested and then never mentioned again.
"Can we go to the beach now we're back in Melbourne?" Y/n asks making Oscar smile.
"Yes, of course we can." Oscar confirms making her grin.
Y/n starts to ramble about going to the beach and suggests taking some of the team.
Obviously Oscar in Australia means that he's getting most of the attention from the fans. Most of them support him or Daniel. Right now, primarily him because he's the new young talent who is showing promising potential for a big future in F1.
-
Sitting in the McLaren unit on the Thursday for media, a lot of it isn't filled with a whole lot. They get to have a lot of breaks between media duties.
"I love your helmet." Y/n comments as she lies on the sofa with his helmet on her stomach then she gasps sitting up making Oscar raise his eyebrows at her. "I just had the most amazing idea-well if you like the idea-"
"I will." Oscar assures her since he's never not liked an idea she's came up with.
"We could both design one side of a helmet. Even if you don't use it, it sounds fun."
He does love it. Mainly because at the beginning of his F1 career, y/n was really scared to be overly involved. It didn't take him long to notice she was really sort of dodging being involved with it.
"Which race are you thinking? Or do you want to do it for the next home race?" Oscar questions making her smile a little. "Go on, I know you have a race in mind."
"Well, since you've asked. I think it'd be fun to design your helmet for Singapore." Y/n states earning a smile from Oscar. "It's one of my favourite races and you had such a cool helmet last year, so it wouldn't be unusual to have a special helmet. I just like the idea of it. I don't know what my half would be but Singapore is quite a while away."
"That's true." Oscar confirms then smiling lightly at her. "I love you."
"I love you too. So much. Like...a lot." Y/n grins then grinning as she moves over and kisses the Aussie only for Lando to walk in.
"Ah! My eyes! My poor innocent eyes!" Lando exclaims earning a laugh from the young woman while Oscar just smiles.
"I know you're not trying to convince me that your eyes are even the slightest bit innocent." Y/n snorts earning a dramatic gasp from the Brit with his hand going to his chest.
"Alright, but Oscar is innocent." Lando states earning a smirk from the young woman.
"For your sanity-"
"Yeah, going to stop you there." Oscar smiles covering her mouth while Lando laughs.
-
Sometimes Oscar likes to hear y/n talk for hours on purpose. Like he says something to trigger her into a mass of thoughts that she can't filter and shares with him just speaking everything she thinks.
One of his favourite things to listen to her talk about is how she pictures their future.
"Baby." Oscar mumbles making her look up at him since they're in the hotel, a couple days earlier than the race weekend required purely to adjust to the timezone a bit more. "How do you picture our future?"
"Short or long term?" Y/n asks already excited to talk about it.
There's something so comforting about the fact that y/n really feels secure enough to not fear talking about how confident she is in their future together and how she has plans for it already.
"Both." Oscar smiles gently before he watches her shift a little purely out of being excited to do this.
"So short term, my Oscar Piastri is going be champion within a couple years." Y/n grins earning a hum of approval from him. "And possibly within 5 years we might be engaged."
5 years is a stretch. It's a generous window for him, her way of trying to not put any pressure on him about it and he knows it. But she'll be lucky to get out of 2025 without a ring on her finger from him.
"Then a wedding somewhere warm, preferably Australia because it's home." Y/n goes on practically gushing over the idea of their wedding. "As much as I'd love to see you as a girl dad with too many daughters to comprehend. I think I'll get pregnant and we'll have a little boy and then two girls."
"A boy and two girls ok." Oscar nods earning a grin before she flaps her hand excitedly at him.
"We'll be the best parents, not just parenting but we'll just be the milf and dilf of F1." Y/n beams earning a small laugh. "That's short term, there's just going to be F1, marriage and raising kids. Long term, when you eventually retire, we'll just live full time in Australia. The kids will be hitting the teen years, getting into whatever hobbies they've got. Maybe karting, maybe biking-maybe anything! We'd obviously be the type of parents who support any endeavour."
"Obviously."
"And they'd get to brag about their dad."
"Oh I'm a bragging right?"
"I brag about you."
Oscar grins at that because he knows she absolutely spends a lot of time bragging about him and she's unapologetic about it.
"What else is in our future?"
"Mmm...I think we'll travel a lot outside of work. I also think we'll keep our kids to us. They don't need to be in the limelight unless whatever they want to pursue requires it." Y/n hums earning a nod from Oscar since he knows she's yet to delve into what she wants to talk about with him.
"Names?"
"Boy is going to be called Connor. Because Connor Piastri because I've always like the name Connor. Then we're going to have Eden and Mabel Piastri. Because they're pretty names even if they're for old women."
"So they'll be Piastri's?" Oscar questions though he's only joking since he knows y/n loves his last name.
"We'll all be Piastri's."
Fuck did he say by the end of 2025? No. He's getting a ring before the end of the month.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05
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keeping secrets
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you and satoru avoid each other
warnings: actual fighting, sad everyone, hurt/little comfort (sorry)
last part | next part
*
year four.
"did megumi give you a permission slip?" you ask satoru, leaning against the side of the couch, peeking at his phone. "it's for a field trip, but i haven't seen it. he says he set it on the counter."
satoru glances at you. then back, and shakes his head.
"he didn't give you anything to sign?"
"not recently."
you sigh. "i don't think he lost it."
satoru's lip quirks. "you think i'm hiding it?"
"i don't know. did you accidentally eat it?"
his eyes roll. "i have better taste than that."
"well, can you help me look for it?"
satoru sighs, head hanging back for a moment, then he throws his phone down, groaning as he stands up. after he stretches, he half-heartedly moves a pillow, pretending to look under it.
you snort.
but satoru doesn't look back at you, and moves to the table, to look at the stack of papers there.
and, admittedly, things have been a bit off.
you tried to ignore it at first--ignore the way satoru avoided your eyes, or kept himself five feet away from you at all times. you tried to pretend that it wasn't happening. that he wasn't giving you short responses, or only joking with you in dire moments (like when something you say goes over both of the kid's heads and they stare at you weirdly).
honestly, you hadn't even noticed anything was wrong until you'd realized that it'd been a week since he fell asleep with you. since he even bothered to come out of his room after putting the kids to bed. a week since he tried to squeeze you to death, or grossly kissed your cheek.
and... it shouldn't be weird.
no rule says that he has to spend a specific amount of time with you, or cuddle in your bed, or smile at you, or... do anything that your best friend probably shouldnt do.
but it's weird.
it's strange because your relationship with satoru has stayed relatively consistent, an upward slope for the past six years. you've grown closer, but never farther.
and, in the depths of your mind, usually when you're lying awake at night, you recognize that there's one single moment when it switched. that everything changed a specific morning, and you haven't been able to rewind it. to take it all back.
and you could just blame the alcohol for your confession, you probably should.
but then you'd also have to blame your sixteen-year-old self, the girl who'd been attracted to satoru in the first place. the eighteen-year-old who agreed to tie her life to his and take in the kids, or you now, still cursing yourself for falling in love with him.
it's not like satoru made you.
if intoxication is to blame, so is your heart, your soul, for starting all of this in the first place.
you'd decided to not blame anything at all, in the end. everything's fine.
"find anything?" you ask him, a bit cold in the room, feeling that same tension that's been there. those unspoken words, infinite amounts of distance.
you try to ignore it, really.
"just the receipt for tsumiki's violin."
"tsumiki's what?" you ask, blinking at him.
"i didn't tell you about that?"
"satoru, you can't just buy them things on a whim--"
he holds a hand up, stopping you. "she said it was for school," he says, giving you a quick grin. "plus, she's pretty good."
"there's no way she's good."
"you'll see," he says, "when we go to her recital."
"what?"
satoru shrugs, then he turns around, organizing the piles of papers into neat stacks. it almost makes you want to check him for a spider bite, a fever, remnants of poison. no way your satoru is doing that.
not that he's yours. he hasn't been yours in years, hasn't been your anything ever.
"oh, here," he says, eventually, handing you a paper which he already signed--of course--and shaking his head. "museums," he grumbles.
but he doesn't give you the chance to respond, turning to walk down the hall--towards his room--before you can even chide him for forgetting about it.
so, yeah. things are fine.
*
"where's gojo?" megumi asks, as the two of you walk through the door.
the house is empty without satoru there. colder, dimmer. and, of course, there's no one to irritate the boy right when he walks in.
you try not to wince at the question, or spiral into your own question of 'where's gojo?'
"uh," you lock the door, then unlock it. then lock it again. "he's on another job."
"again?"
you give megumi a bland smile, taking his backpack from him. "guess they think he needs more practice," you say, trying to tease.
it falls flat.
"did he get in trouble?"
"i don't know," you shrug. "probably."
honestly, it's not like you would know anyway. satoru doesn't tell you anything these days.
it's probably what bothers you the most, because if he's not saying anything, then neither can you. you can't ask him what he thinks about tsumiki's new friend, or if megumi should be eating more, or if you're just making everything up, probably going insane--
"when's he going to be back?"
"he said probably tomorrow. maybe the day after if it takes longer. i can't remember where they sent him..."
megumi looks mischievous. his eyes are bright. "so we can make those miso brownies? since he's gone?"
you laugh, ruffling his hair. "sure, when tsumiki gets home."
he nods, satisfied, and turns around. then he looks back at you, eyes trailing over your expression.
megumi looks at you quizzically, like he knows something you don't. "do you miss him?"
you roll your eyes. "do you miss him, megumi?"
he doesn't even think about it. "true," he says, then walks into the kitchen, grabbing something from the fridge.
maybe you miss him, you think, but only a little bit. it's not like he's been gone long.
just, you know, forever.
*
"hey," you lean against the desk in the office. satoru must be filling out a report, which should make you blink twice, but really it's him being out in the open that surprises you.
most days he goes to hide in his room. he locks his door and makes sure that you wouldn't dare to walk through. that you have no means to interrupt his solitude.
"oh, hey," satoru answers, not bothering to look up at you. his voice is low, familiar, and creates goosebumps on your skin.
seriously, why is it so cold in this house?
"i'm surprised those haven't gone missing yet," you gesture toward the papers, trying to be casual.
he snorts. "yaga said that if i lost them again, i was fired."
"he said that two years ago."
satoru nods, still scribbling. you want more than anything to just see his eyes for a moment, for him to look at you and grin like you're used to.
but you know he won't, so you tap your fingers against the desk. "do you have a second?"
"sure. what's up? megumi do something?"
"no, the kids are fine, i, um--" you pause. it feels ridiculous to have to ask him this, to not know the answer. it feels ridiculous to be nervous around satoru. you haven't felt anxious, or worried about asking him anything since you were sixteen and realized that it didn't matter. "shoko texted me about that work 'meeting' that's happening on friday. do you want to go to that? i just need to know so i can tell her..."
"meeting?"
your smile is teasing, not that he's looking. "i think she meant party."
"on friday?"
"yeah. she said that the booze is free, and i think nanami's going, so i thought..." you hint, not even sure what you mean.
i thought we could talk. i thought we could go together and maybe everything would go back to normal. i thought that we were friends, if anything, and that you cared about me--
satoru hums. "what about the kids?"
"tsumiki has a birthday party that night, and megumi likes the sitter from last time," you wince at your accidental mention of that night. "or he can come, i guess, but he'd probably hate it."
satoru snorts, nodding in agreement. you watch his hands freeze, then resume.
he's thinking the same things you are, you know. he's thinking about how stupid you are, how ridiculous it is to imagine him being in love with you, caring about who you are or how you feel.
you just know it.
"so..." you whisper, after a second. "do you want to go?"
you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. how can this be the only real conversation you've had with satoru this week?
how can you miss him this much when he's literally right there?
"i don't--" satoru makes a face, finally looking toward you. he sets down the pen. "i don't think so. but you can go and i can stay here with megumi," he suggests easily like he's not rejecting you. "we can have a guy's night."
"megumi hates guy's nights."
satoru has a cheeky grin on, but it's half-hearted. barely there.
like a glimpse of him in a peephole, a moment where he's not hiding completely from you.
he doesn't say anything, though. he doesn't even bother to come up with a better excuse.
it's clear as day that he just doesn't want to hang out with you, even in a crowd of people.
"that's okay," you hum, eventually, trying to keep your voice steady. "i don't really--"
"no, you should go. you haven't seen nanami in a while. you can have a night out," he says genuinely, but it sounds more like i need a break from you.
"yeah," you try to laugh. "i--um, okay. if you're sure."
he nods, looking away again. he hasn't touched you in weeks. your skin is almost molding, going completely stale. "i'm sure. we'll order dinner, so you don't have to worry about the brat complaining."
"okay."
"okay," satoru answers, but it doesn't mean anything.
and it's not okay.
*
the two of them walk through the door, and megumi looks... pleasant. he's got the makings of a smile on his face, a little jump in his step.
it's one of the only times you've seen him look like the ten-year-old he is, instead of someone who's concerned about economic collapse.
it makes you smile a bit, even if just the sight of satoru sends pangs down your chest.
"hey," you say, hand on his head as he lingers by you, eyes meeting yours in greeting. you look to satoru, who's pretending to wipe away a smudge on his glasses. "where were you guys?"
"we were--"
"gojo took me to that old hospital by my school," megumi says, "there were cursed spirits hanging outside. he let me and my divine dogs deal with them," he says this almost excitedly--as excited as megumi gets--and you can see it in his eyes. that little twinkle of pride.
your eyes widen, but you smile, trying to be genuine. it's difficult because you've been lying for weeks. "really?" you ask, trying not to look over at satoru accusingly. "how'd it go?"
"good," megumi, moves to the sink, washing his hands. "they're getting better at scenting them out. it didn't take long."
"that's great."
"megumi didn't need any of my help," satoru adds, giving you a short glance. "he's got good intuition."
megumi looks at satoru with a glare in his eyes, but you can tell that he appreciates the compliment.
you can tell that he's completely fine with this, that the two of them are going to act like it's normal, but you can't.
you try to ignore it when megumi looks between you and satoru, a slight furrow in his brows. he knows something wrong, you know. but you're not going to admit that.
you swallow. "do you have any homework you need to finish, megs?"
"uh..." he pauses. "i think so. reading?"
you smile, hand on his back as you lead him out of the room. "okay, how about you go work on that? i need to talk to satoru real quick."
he nods immediately, looking eager to leave--both the room and the tension.
as soon as he's gone, you turn to satoru, narrowed eyes as you observe him. he's already smiling because he knows that he's in trouble. because he knows that you're angry.
because, even if he hasn't actually spoken to you in weeks, satoru has always read you so well. he's always known what you're going to say before you say it.
but you can't care about it. it doesn't mean anything to him.
“you can’t do that,” you say, almost whispering. “not without asking me.”
“i knew you’d say no.”
you laugh, looking away from him. “exactly.”
“he’s fine,” satoru reassures. he shrugs, because why should he care about your concern? “he did good, and there’s not a scratch on him. i’m sorry for not telling you but—“
“no buts, satoru. you can’t take megumi out on missions like he’s a student. he’s not. and you definitely can’t do it without even telling me," there's a burning in your chest. your head is clouded over with anger.
just looking at him--at his ridiculous smile and stupid perfect face--makes you clench your fists.
how can he stand there and act like you're a team?
“it’s not a big deal. i was there the whole time—and he didn’t need me.”
“i don’t care!”
satoru rolls his eyes, his arms crossed. “i think you’re overreacting.”
“i’m not," you say, trying to get him to look at you--actually look--but he won't. it makes your chest hurt even more. "you’re not telling me things—fine, whatever, keep whatever secrets you want, gojo. don't bother talking to me. but you can’t keep secrets from me about the kids.”
“secrets? i’m not—“
you shake your head, hands in the air, trying to clear all of it away. you want the past month to go away, the past six years. “megumi’s just a kid. he’s ten. he can’t be going on missions, not until he’s ready.”
“i think i’ve already proved how ready he is.”
“well, maybe i'm not ready. he’s a kid.”
“yeah,” satoru says, obviously. he scoffs. “yeah, he’s a kid. but he’s also a jujutsu sorcerer. you can’t separate the two.”
his voice is all-knowing and his stance is firm. you know that you won't convince him otherwise--know that he's right, to some degree, but this isn't about megumi.
this isn't about cursed spirits or jujutsu.
“yes, you can," you say, clenching your jaw. "he doesn’t need to be seeing that shit right now. not until he decides he wants to. practice his technique with him all you want, but you can’t just take him to exorcise a curse with you.”
“like i said, he’s fine.”
“it’s not about that! it’s about you doing something reckless—again—and acting like there aren’t any consequences to your decisions. he’s my son,” you hiss, “he shouldn’t be going anywhere i don’t know about. you shouldn’t be making decisions about him behind my back.”
you shouldn't be pushing me away, you shouldn't be ruining this--
“so you want to lock him up here?" satoru asks, laughing at you. his teeth are sharp and he is still. "you want to take away his ability to defend himself?”
you scoff. “are you kidding? you think me saying i don’t want you to get him killed is equal to me—“
“he was fine. if anything—anything—had been there that megumi couldn’t handle, i would’ve taken care of it. i wasn't going to let anyone touch him. that’s why i was there! and he didn’t even need me," he's boasting, swearing to you--you can feel it as he rolls his eyes at you.
“you know what he needs, satoru? he needs you to treat him like he’s a little boy and not some experiment for you to play with.”
“i would never—“
you cut him off, “bringing him out into the open, where anyone could see him, could hurt him, and making him deal with your cursed spirit is not okay.”
“i didn’t make him deal with anything," satoru swears, chin up.
you snort. the two of you are standing in front of each other, arms crossed, head guarded. your muscles are tense like something is about to attack you. “oh, so he asked you to go?”
“well, no, but—“
“then you made him! you put him up against a monster and treated him like a student, like a 16-year-old, and not your son.”
the words feel nice to say. some version of the truth that's much better than whatever this version is. if satoru won't talk to you, you'll talk for him.
you'll make every assumption, every bad perception (because he's supposed to keep you from worrying, he's supposed to be there to calm you down, to save you from that spiraling). but if he's not going to try, neither will you.
satoru’s eyes grow hard. “what?”
“why can’t you just let him be a kid? why do you have to push him into these things—“
“we talked with megumi about who he is,” satoru grinds, “he knows about the privilege of his strength, and the fact that he has to work to use it—“
“a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to work for anything!”
he laughs at you. you can't see his eyes, but you watch his face as he tries to hide his expression, trying to keep his voice low. the kids are still in the house, so you shouldn't be yelling. but you can't bring it in yourself to really care.
“what do you think the point of him living here was? why do you think we took him in?”
you gape at him. “are you kidding?” you ask. “are you serious? we took him, and tsumiki, in because you’re responsible for killing their father! because they didn’t have anyone else, and that’s your fault.”
“you think i don’t know that?”
“well, i thought you did," you say, stepping away from him. some part of you wants to push him out, make him leave. the other part desperately wants him to stay--to say he's sorry. "but you just said that the only reason megumi is here is so you can teach him! when i agreed to this i thought you were facing the consequences of your actions, doing the right thing for those kids because you could. i thought you wanted to take care of them! to keep them away from our awful, messed up world.”
satoru is staring at you with his jaw clenched.
you continue, without consideration for the consequences of your words. “i didn’t think that you only wanted to keep megumi here so you could train him, like a dog.”
“that’s not what i said.”
you shake your head, a bitter smile on your face. “well it’s what you meant, and clearly you have no regard for his feelings or the way that curses might affect him—“
“don’t act like i did it just to mess with him," he interrupts, harshly. "it’s not a joke. i want him to be strong, i want him to be able to take care of himself—“
“and i want him to have a dad who isn’t so selfish!”
“what?”
“did you even think about it? what about the nightmares he’s going to have?" you wonder, rhetorically. "what about the fact that he’s different—that he’s already struggling to relate to other kids in school? what about him, satoru? why is it only about you?”
what about me? you don't say.
“i didn’t bring him for me—“
“you want a replacement. you want someone else to deal with everything, while you sit back and watch. i know what you’re trying to do—“
“really?" he points at you, the other hand clenched in the air. he's laughing again. "you can read my mind? you’ve already been let in on my plans—“
“don’t you wish that you’d had the opportunity to be just a kid?” you demand. “don’t you want that for megumi?”
he shrugs. “sure. but it’s never going to happen.”
“well, clearly, because you won’t let it.”
“he gets to be a kid every day. god forbid i take him to see one curse, to understand how to use his powers, to protect himself, and you treat me like i wanted to kill him.”
you laugh. your mind is a minefield, and everything he says ruins another part of it.
all you can think about is him, him as a teenager, him with you, telling satoru you love him and him having nothing left to say--
but you scoff again, shoving yourself further away from him. “do you know how many times i’ve wanted to go back to when i was ten and just got to live my life? do you know how often i think about how everything could’ve been different?”
“this isn’t about us."
“yes, it is. it is, satoru, because i didn’t get that chance and neither did you. and you just took away megumi’s chance.”
“i didn’t take anything away," he says, softly, like he's trying to convince himself.
clearly, you've struck a nerve.
“he’s never going to be able to look at the world normally, but he doesn’t need the burden of saving people before he’s even in middle school.”
“why is being strong so bad?” satoru asks you, demanding something more. why am i so bad? “why do you treat it like it’s a curse? like it’s going to hurt him?”
“look at you!” you respond. “look at suguru, and me, and shoko! look at any jujutsu sorcerer and ask them if being strong is worth it—is worth screwing your life over.”
satoru looks taken aback. he steps away from you.
“god, it’s like you think that we’re a different species," you tell him, never having felt like it's more true. "you’re human, satoru. you might be the strongest, but you’re still human, and you still have nightmares like all of the rest of us.”
he shakes his head at you.
“why do you want that for megumi? why push him into this right now?”
“i want him to be able to take care of himself. so that he doesn’t die like our colleagues, so that he doesn’t make the wrong choice like—“
he stops, his voice breaking before he can continue.
and maybe you know what this is really about, but if satoru doesn’t want to tell you how he feels, if he wants to pretend like it doesn’t matter—
fine. you will too.
“it wouldn’t make a difference. he’s already—his life is already messed up.”
satoru looks at you, his eyes ablaze. “don’t you think that if i was him, if i could’ve been stronger, if i could’ve saved all of those people—don’t you think i would do it in an instant? don’t you think i know that because i wasn’t strong enough, people died?”
this is the thing you've feared since you were eighteen, a brand new person responsible for two little lives. you've feared satoru's moral commitment since before you met him. since you saw him destroy a curse in an instant and realized he was different than everyone else.
“megumi isn’t you! he doesn’t need to be taught to take on the responsibility of everyone’s lives—“
“you can’t say that i’m selfish, that i don’t care, and then say that i care too much,” he says, shaking his head, unable to look at you.
he hasn't been able to look you in the eye in weeks.
“you’re both!" you say, almost yelling. "you’re everything. and you don’t think! you haven’t thought for a moment about what megumi might be feeling, who he might want to be—“
“and you have? what about what you want him to be?”
“i want him to be happy! i want him to grow up better than i ever did. i don’t want him chasing a bunch of cursed spirits around on the weekend like it’s a normal thing—“
“it is normal. for us, it’s normal. for him, it’s normal.”
you sigh, a weight on your chest, a burning in your throat. “well, maybe it shouldn’t be.”
you're not going to start crying now. not with satoru watching, not when he gets to know just how much you care.
satoru scoffs. “so you’d just have everyone defend themselves--"
"i don't know how you're arrogant enough to believe that you can save everyone--"
"--you’d just forget that we’re strong for a reason, that we--“
“but you’re never going to be strong enough, satoru. never.”
satoru stares at you. he doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t hesitate, and doesn’t bother to argue.
and after a moment he turns around. you reach your hand out to grab him--hold onto him and keep him here, because this isn't finished, and you're not done with him. you haven't even started.
but you run into a wall. you look down and your hand is dangling idly in front of his arm, stuck in the air.
you can't see satoru's eyes, but you can feel his heart--your heart--as it skips a beat in realization.
but then satoru shakes you off, pushes you infinitely farther away from infinity, and keeps going.
he walks out the door, slamming it shut.
you stand there for a moment, watching. you wait for the door to open again, for satoru to come back, for him to laugh--tell you that everything's fine, that it'll all be fine. that it's okay if you're angry, that he doesn't care.
but after a minute, he doesn't return.
and after another, you have to lean against the counter. your hand burns--but maybe that's just your imagination. you're pretty sure that infinity has no drawbacks, that there's no consequence for touching, for not touching satoru.
pretty sure.
but you still look over your skin, trying to see if he's left some mark. it would be nice to have some evidence of what he's done to you. you clench your fist, but the feeling doesn't go away.
and maybe it's not your hand. maybe it's your chest. maybe it's these weeks of feeling separated, feeling miles apart from him, feeling like it's all your fault that any of this has happened.
you... you can't even remember what you were arguing about.
you feel like a kid again, hiding yourself in your room just so your parents don't have to deal with you. you feel like that little girl who hid in the cupboards, trying to escape the monsters that no one else could see. you feel like that smaller, reckless version of yourself that left home at the first chance, who knew she wasn't allowed back.
are you allowed here? you wonder. is it going to happen again? are these monsters--real and fake--too much for your family to handle again?
you exhale, trying to catch your breath again. none of this feels right, normal, easy.
should you--should you call him? should you wait for him to come back?
is he going to come back?
the slam of the door is still echoing throughout the house when they creep down the hallway, making sure their footsteps are soft, but also loud enough for you to hear.
maybe you've only been standing there, waiting for satoru to turn around, for thirty seconds.
but it feels like an hour.
"mom?" a tiny voice asks, and both of them are turning around the corner, taking hesitant steps towards you.
you have to swallow. you need some water, an icepack maybe, to get rid of the burning feeling in your throat. the telltale signs that you're going to cry--that you've suffered blows to the core, and you can't backtrack now.
but you don't want to cry in front of them. you refuse to. if you didn't want to cry in front of satoru, you won't cry in front of the kids.
so you turn around, swallow again, and fill a glass of water.
you chug it down, wanting it to wash away that feeling, that ache.
you can't say anything just yet because then you'll actually fall apart.
megumi and tsumiki watch you, both of them silent as they wait for your direction. for some solution you should have.
you take a deep breath, then turn, almost faltering when you see the worried look on both of their faces, the concern in their eyes. neither of them should have to worry about this.
god, how could you forget that they were there? that they could hear everything?
how could you make another mistake?
"hey, guys," you say, clearing your throat. you want to be nonchalant, and casual, but you've never been either a day in your life.
"where did gojo go?"
"i, um," you take another sip of water, because that feeling crawls up your throat, makes itself known again. "i think he went on a walk."
"is he okay?" tsumiki asks.
"are you okay?" megumi follows.
"yeah, he's fine. he's good. i--he just needed some space, you know? um... a break."
"from us?"
your eyes widen. "no, no, no. of course not, never you guys. he's... just been busy this week. working a lot. and, i, well, he's good. we're good."
megumi leans on the counter next to you, looking at you very closely. "are you okay?" he repeats.
"i'm good, megs. it's..." you smile. "it's fine. um, did satoru get you anything to eat while you were out? i'm not sure what we've got, but i can make something if you--"
"when is he going to be back?"
you stop, sighing. you shouldn't have taught either of them how to read emotions, or how to eavesdrop. you shouldn't be speaking to anyone, or trusted with anything.
"i'm not sure, buddy. he'll be back when he's ready."
"is he going to stay out all night?" tsumiki asks, worried.
"no, i'm sure--" you stop again. "gojo will be back in time for bed, okay?"
they're both staring at you, waiting for you to say something profound, something to make it actually okay.
but you have nothing. is satoru going to come back? is he going to stay somewhere else? you know he'll exhaust himself just to avoid coming home--
this is why you shouldn't have moved in--
this is why you never should've agreed to this, allowed himself to burrow a hole in your heart, in your soul--
"hey," megumi takes a step towards you. and then, before you can blink the tears out of your eyes, reassure him that it's fine, his arms are around your waist.
he nuzzles his face into your side, squeezing tighter than you thought a little boy could.
theres only a second of this before tsumiki's on your other side, and squeezing just as hard.
your hands fall on both of their backs, and you take a breath that feels more like never breathing again. your lungs won't fill, and your chest is incomplete
but they stand there with you, and eventually, your heart begins to match theirs, and their little hands keep you together.
you can't cry, but you really want to.
*
satoru's entire body feels different.
he knows what it's lacking, the changes he's made in a short period of time--giving himself no time to acclimate, no pause where he slowly adapts to the differences.
he misses you.
it's been like this before--when suguru left and satoru couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, nonetheless you in the eyes--but it's never felt so severe.
because you're right there. you've been there every day, waking him up, making the kids breakfast, laughing when megumi bullies him, smiling at tsumiki's attempts at mediating.
you're there in the morning, in the afternoon, and every night. you're right there for him--and he can't say a word.
he doesn't want this, this thing to be real.
denial is his favorite emotion, and recently, he can't even muster the strength to go through with it.
and now, he feels even more hopeless, lacking, never ever enough.
but he walks through the door because he has nowhere else to go. he has no other home--besides the three of you.
it's dark outside when he comes back, and the door is unlocked, so he knows that you've been waiting. that you had to deal with the aftermath of shouted voices and scared children who he felt lurking behind a wall before he got the chance to think about any of it.
he needs to talk to you. satoru knows that, he really does. but he's not sure what to say.
he could apologize for tonight--could tell you that he won't make any more decisions, that he won't wreck this thing you've built--but it's not enough.
he should probably apologize for the last seven years. for letting himself grow attached to you, and then continue to hold you at arms length. he should probably apologize for being himself, for being less than he could be.
but those words feel too rotten to say aloud.
so, when he walks up to your door, waiting to feel your obvious presence--to see it, like he always does, the wall of cursed energy that you are--he feels like running away again.
you don't even need to know that he's home. satoru could go to bed, and he could probably pretend that nothing happened in the morning and you would follow along.
but he doesn't want to do that. not to you.
and he needs to see you, needs to say something before he figures it all out--should he leave, or stay? should he continue to push you away to protect you? should he tell you all of it?
it doesn't matter, he knows, because he probably won't be able to do any of it.
and for the first time in years, satoru makes sure to knock before he opens your door. just a small repetition of his knuckles, but he might as well be breaking down a tradition.
there's no answer, but he's not waiting, so he creaks the door open, looking for you immediately.
and he sees you, lying in bed.
and he sees your shoulders shaking slightly, with you curled up in the fetal position, and he can hear the sniffle before the door is all the way open.
there's no choice, he knows. he's not going to let you cry yourself to sleep without saying anything. he's not going to leave you alone.
you don't turn around, but satoru knows that you must know he's there. he walks across the floor, sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting for you to turn to him.
and yell, maybe. tell him to leave again. tell him that you don't want to look at him anymore.
but you don't move. your shaking is slightly stifled, and satoru can tell that you're trying to keep your breathing low, to keep him from noticing you cry.
it's foolish, really, because satoru hasn't missed a single detail about you since he was seventeen.
he doesn't say anything, but it's a natural reflex to tap your legs, to stand and slip off his shoes, gently pushing you off of the edge of the bed, towards the middle.
and then he's laying there, curling his limbs around yours, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him.
immediately, there's a release somewhere inside of him. that yearning--that ridiculous need is finally satiated.
satoru swallows. he needs to say something, he knows, but he's not sure what. should he apologize right now? should he tell you that he hates it when you cry--that he never feels more desperate to be more than in moments like this?
should he whisper that he loves you, just to get it off his chest?
but you cough, body shuttering as you relax into him, never pushing him away. and your voice is so small when you say, "you can't leave."
satoru feels the pieces of him crack into even more.
he tries to hold you tighter, but you move in his hold, turning so that you're facing him, and you nuzzle your face into his neck--trying to hide, but making sure that he's there.
your hands cling onto him, leaving marks.
he can feel your tears against his skin, your entire body on overdrive.
"you can't leave," you repeat, voice breaking. satoru feels it against the very outline of his soul.
"okay," he says, quickly. "i won't."
"i can't lose you too."
he pales, body going still. his heart might stop for a moment. "you won't. i'm not going anywhere." he sighs. "i'm sorry."
"i can't--" you're still crying, and you begin to shake again. "i can't do this without you. i won't."
"you don't have to."
"you can't leave, satoru," you say, leaning up to meet his eyes--yours glistening with years full of hurt, a lifetime of secrets and unsaid words. "please don't leave."
"i won't," he repeats, feeling a bit desperate. what can he say to prove to you that he's not like everyone else? that he would trap you within his atoms, if he could? that he would stay in this bed, holding you, even if it meant nothing, forever?
there's nothing, he knows. nothing but the truth. but that doesn't come out--it can't, now. it's not the right time.
so instead, satoru wipes the tears from your face, even though they're replaced immediately, your breath coming in short, short bursts. he wraps his arm around your back, pulling you back to him again.
"i'm sorry," you whisper against his skin, so quietly that he can barely hear it.
"i'm not going anywhere," he answers.
and, just for tonight, it's enough.
he'll fix the rest of it tomorrow.
*
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Tour Break ft. Lisa and Jennie
pairings: Jennie Kim/M!OC, Lisa/M!OC
rating: Explicit
word count: 3.7k
summary: A few months have passed since your last encounter with Jennie. When a tour stop brings the girls near your university, they decide to pay you a visit. PART ONE HERE.
tags: size kink, semi-public sex, stomach bulge, rough sex, footjob
A/N: may have gotten a bit carried away. hope yall enjoy!
After that night with Jennie, the following weeks leading up to their tour changed for you completely. Instead of preparing to go off to university, you began spending more time with your sister and her friends. It was an effective way to lose that embarrassed little sibling complex. Mostly though, it was because being around them offered more chances for Jennie and you to sneak off and fool around.
And boy did you two fool around. You had to have easily been the luckiest person in the country during that time. Eventually, though, it came to a close as they went back on tour and you went off to university.
You kept in touch through texts and sneaking in the occasional FaceTime when possible, but it wasn't until the end of your spring term that you got to see them again. It wasn't even a personal visit; it just so happened they were playing at the local stadium near your university.
You had received a text from Jisoo that you were to meet them for lunch later in the day. As happy as you were to see your sister, you found yourself anxious to see Jennie. It had been more than a few months now. Would she still be interested in your arrangement? Would she still be interested in you, or had the thrill disappeared? You supposed there was only one way to find out.
You walked through the front doors of the restaurant you were to meet them at, and the hostess led you to the table where they were waiting. Immediately, you were greeted with high-pitched voices and limbs swallowing you into hugs.
Okay, maybe you hadn’t completely gotten rid of the little sibling complex.
"You look so different with all that scruff!" Rosie exclaimed, running a hand over your chin, her fingers brushing against your stubble. “I bet all the girls on campus fall for this.”
“I do alright for myself,” you joked.
Some light-hearted laughter echoed in the restaurant and you found yourself scratching the back of your neck as you stole a look at Jennie. As everyone took their seats you placed yourself next to Jisoo and across from Jennie. You stole another glance at her but, to your disappointment, she seemed to be acting completely normal.
Of course she was, you silently chastised yourself, Did you expect her to suck your dick right in front of Jisoo?
“I want to hear all about it. How has your first year been?” Jisoo questioned, placing her chin on her hands.
"Really? You guys have been traveling the world and you want to hear about how school has been?" you asked.
"Duh! And make sure you leave in all the dirty details," Lisa chimed in, a smirk on her features.
"I think we can do without that part," Jisoo said, her face scrunching up.
"Speak for yourself!" Lisa retorted.
Her words earned laughter from everyone except Jisoo, and you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax. Among her many talents, you found that Lisa was an expert at lightening the mood in any given situation.
"Where do I begin..."
You proceeded to recount the events that had occurred in your first semesters at university. The parties - which Lisa seemed particularly interested in hearing about - the friends, your classes, and even the few girls you had what could loosely be called relationships with. Though admittedly, you might have intentionally overplayed those stories. Judging by the way Jennie’s expression subtly shifted when you told the stories, it had worked. Or, you hoped it had.
Christ, you were getting bold. Playing games with one of the most desired women on the planet?
"Wow, I can’t believe my baby brother is sounding like an adult," Jisoo said, placing a hand on yours as you finished. "You’re practically a man now."
You scoffed before pulling your hand away teasingly. "God, when did you get so sentimental?"
She laughed, hitting your arm playfully before turning back to the group.
"To be fair, I think he’s been a man for a while now," Jennie spoke up for the first time, her gaze zeroing in on yours.
You played it off with a laugh, but you could feel your face heating up. Beneath that, there was a tinge of fear. Was this payback for provoking her? It had to have been. Of course, Jennie had always been flirty, however where it had been innocent in the past, you now had a history. If it could be called that. And you weren’t exactly sure how Jisoo would react to that history. But you had prodded her, now you had to deal with whatever came next.
You took a sip of your drink, recovering your composure before changing the direction of the conversation. "So, how is the tour going? You guys are on the last leg right?"
There was a collective nod before Jisoo spoke, "It’s been wonderful. I really wish mom and dad would have let us take you to some of these places."
"Why do you say – THAT!?"
The last word came out almost as a high-pitched yelp and you immediately went into a coughing fit to try and mask it. Jisoo looked concerned, as did Rosie, while Lisa bore a smirk and Jennie seemed almost indifferent.
"Sorry, I must have gotten something stuck in my throat, go on," you coughed.
Jisoo patted you on the back to make sure you were okay before continuing her answer. You, however, were no longer listening. That was because there was currently a foot pressed against your inner thigh unbeknownst to anyone else. When you looked across the table, you had no doubt about who the culprit was.
Truth be told it was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Jennie stared back at you, the slightest hint of a smirk on her lips. Her eyes, meanwhile, were practically daring you to react and say something. When you didn’t, you swore her smirk grew more bold, her foot pushing higher against your thigh.
"…Well, we did New York in December, it looks amazing…" Jisoo continued on.
You nodded your head, trying to remain focused as Jennie’s foot rubbed up your leg until she reached the height she wanted. Her toes curled slowly as she moved to press against your crotch. At this point, you were already starting to get hard and had to move your chair in more so Jisoo or Rosie wouldn’t see.
"How was the crowd overseas? Good?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation and any attention away from what was happening underneath the table.
"Oh, they were amazing," Jennie spoke. When you turned your attention to her, she was simply smiling as normal, despite that the sole of her foot was now rubbing your erect cock through your jeans. "There was so much excitement and energy. I literally felt like the crowd was just going to explode."
While the other girls just nodded in agreement, you closed your eyes briefly. Lisa began speaking but at this point, you were barely registering what any of them were saying. Jennie’s foot continued to jerk you off over your clothing, rubbing you as furiously as possible without being noticed. At one point, her toes pressed against your zipper and you wondered if she just might free your cock from its constraints. That would be terrible. So why did you want it to happen so badly?
“Are you okay?” Rosie asked, giving you a glance.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, you're fine. You just need a drink," you said, trying to give your best smile before sipping your water slightly. You could see Jennie smirking out of the corner of your eye. You still didn’t know what she was playing at but you also weren’t sure you cared at this point either.
Rosie gave you a concerned look but they soon carried on with telling their tour stories. Your mind, however, was focused somewhere else. Jennie’s toes had worked down the zipper of your pants and had slid inside just enough to allow more contact with your hard cock, her sole rubbing against the stiff length as she jerked you off.
You tried to keep yourself together. You really did. But eventually, it got to be too much and you leaned back in your chair. You tried to disguise it as simply stretching but judging by the look Jennie was giving you, you doubted that was how she took it. You felt the pre-cum dripping onto her feet as she continued her assault. Fuck, you were going to cum. There was no way you would be able to hold out much longer.
"Hey, are you okay?" Jisoo asked, turning to face me. "You look like you're burning up."
"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Maybe just a little hungry. Are the appetizers here yet?" you said, hoping your excuse would work.
"Actually, that's a good idea. I could go for some food too," Rosie chimed in.
"I'll check on the status," Jennie spoke up. "I need to use the ladies room anyway."
You let out a sigh of relief when Jennie's foot left your lap. But the relief was short-lived as you watched her stand up and make her way around the table. You held your breath, wondering if she would say anything but, instead, she placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it before walking away.
The contact was brief, and it could have meant nothing but you knew better. You were certain of it. She was just making sure that the message was sent.
"I'm going to head to the bathroom as well," you said, standing as you held your napkin over your lap awkwardly.
You quickly scurried away, following after Jennie, catching up to her before she made her way to the bathroom. "What the hell was that?"
Jennie looked at me with her eyebrows raised, an innocent expression on her features. Her words, however, were anything but, "What? Did none of your little campus sluts do that for you?"
"So you were jealous then?" you asked.
"Do I have something to be jealous about?" she said simply before making her way towards the ladies' room.
Maybe it was indignation, maybe it was anger; hell maybe it was just because you were still horny. Whatever the reason you found yourself following Jennie into the bathroom. As the door swung closed behind you, you grabbed her by the arm and spun her to face you. Your lips pressed hard against hers in a heated kiss.
Christ. It had been so long that you almost forgot how soft her lips were.
Almost.
You pulled her tightly against you, pressing your body hard into hers. Your tongue invaded her mouth, dominating her as the kiss intensified. Your hand traveled down her body, slipping under her skirt and grabbing a hold of her firm ass. You could feel that she wasn't wearing any panties.
"Hoping this would happen were you?" you muttered against her lips.
“Baby, I’ve been going commando for months now,” she whispered. Her breath was hot against your ear causing your cock to twitch from the sensation.
“God I’ve missed you” you muttered.
Not wanting to wait anymore, you got rid of your own pants, sliding them down past your knees. Jennie positioned herself up, using the sink as a counter and spread her legs for you; her wet, glistening pussy looking up at you in the eye.
You gripped the base of your cock, positioning yourself at her entrance and thrust yourself inside her.
"Fuck~!"
Jennie was still just as tight as you remembered and your hands immediately went to her hips. You started pumping her hard and fast, your hips snapping back and forth as her legs wrapped around your waist.
"Oh my God~" she groaned, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you into a deep kiss.
Her tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the familiar territory.
Your lips locked in a frenzy as you both tried to express months of pent up sexual frustration. Jennie's pussy gripped you tight, squeezing and milking your cock as you fucked her.
“You thought you were cute with your little act earlier didn’t you?” you grunted as you pulled out and slammed back into her with more force than before causing her to squeal in surprise, and pleasure.
“You…liked it…didn’t you,” she shot back, her words coming out in short pants. Your sudden change in roughness caused her to move one hand to the sink, gripping tightly as her body shook each time you entered her.
Rather than answer immediately one of your hands moved to her throat, choking her lightly as you continued to fuck her, "It was embarrassing."
There was a brief moment of surprise on Jennie's expression before a devilish smile crept across her lips. "Someone's gotten into a few new kinks while I was away." Her hand rose to cover over the top of yours, imploring you to squeeze tighter as her fingers curled against your hand.
Not bothering to respond, you focused on the task at hand as you quickened your thrusts. This was different from your usual dynamic with Jennie but you didn't hate it. Far from it in fact. And clearly you weren't alone in that sentiment. You could feel her pussy clenching around you. Her breathing became heavier, her chest rising and falling, breasts heaving, and her skin flushed. It was an expression you hadn't seen in a while.
"You're enjoying this aren't you?"
Jennie nodded eagerly, biting down on her lip, stifling a moan as her orgasm was building.
You could tell she was close by the way her pussy tightened around your cock and the look on her face.
"Go on then, cum for me, Jennie" you grunted, releasing her throat and leaning down to kiss her once more.
As soon as you released her she gasped for air, her head rolling back against the mirror as she let out a loud cry, her body convulsing around you as she came hard. Her juices spilled down your shaft as you kept pounding her through her orgasm.
It was the sexiest thing you had witnessed since, well, the last time you had fucked Jennie. Finally she relaxed and elicited small moans as you continued to slide in and out of her, chasing your own release, knowing it wasn’t far now.
“I thought I’d find you two in here.”
Your mind registered the presence of a third voice, but your body was too far gone. Thrusting into the singer’s sweet pussy a few more times you felt your balls tighten. Grabbing Jennie’s slim waist you pulled her close against you before you erupted into her. Your hips jerked erratically a few more times as your seed shot to her womb.
“Christ…you weren’t lying about how much he cums, Jen,” the third voice said.
Unbeknownst to you, her eyes were fixated on your fluids currently leaking out of Jennie. It took another moment but finally your brain began to function properly again. You tore your gaze away from Jennie, to see Lisa standing there, hands on her hips and her tongue licking her lips.
“Lisa! Shit!” You might’ve jumped backwards were it not for Jennie’s legs still being hooked around your waist. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“You mean you’re not balls deep inside one of your sister’s best friends?” Lisa asked, manicured eyebrows raised.
You hesitated for a moment, “Okay…Maybe it is exactly what it looks like.”
Jennie, who had finally started to recover as well, brushed aside her sweat soaked bangs, “Relax. You don’t have to worry about Lisa.”
“You told her?”
“I came to my own conclusions,” Lisa answered. “We were both there on that dance floor, remember? Jen just got to you first.”
There was something undeniably hot about that. That two of the most desired women on the planet had wanted you, going so far to outmaneuver one another to get to you first. Briefly you wondered what it might’ve been like if that night had ended with the two of them. Boldly, you wondered if you might be about to find out.
“First come, first serve, Lili,” Jennie grinned. She pushed you back so she could slide from atop the sink, your release dripping down her thigh.
“You’re not jealous?” you asked, remembering her earlier reaction when you mentioned seeing other girls.
Jennie rolled her eyes. Her hand reached down, fingers curling around your cock as she slowly stroked you to cut down on your refractory period, “Are you comparing Lisa to one of these campus sluts?”
“N-no, not necessarily,” you moaned.
“Good,” Jennie kissed your cheek. “Then bend her over this sink and fuck her like a good boy before your sister starts asking questions.”
Yep. That did it alright. You were back to full mast from those words alone. You turned your gaze to see that in the time you had been talking to Jennie, Lisa had stripped out of her clothes. Your cock gave a twitch at the sight. Jennie was hardly the only one of Jisoo’s friends you had fantasized about. It was all three if you were being honest with yourself. Now here you were staring at Lisa’s toned, perfectly fit body.
Lisa bit her lip, smiling and giddy with excitement as she stepped towards you. She turned, wiggling her tight ass against your crotch as she looked over her shoulder at you, biting her bottom lip, "Don't be shy, stud. Jennie's told me plenty of stories."
That made you curious. It also made you not want to disappoint her. There was no sense of pressure, maybe because you just had your balls drained and any nerves along with it. Instead what you felt was an excitement and eagerness to get to it. “Are you sure you can handle it?” you asked, feeling confident.
Lisa merely winked at you and gave another shake of her tight ass, “Why don't you find out.”
You briefly spotted Jennie out of the corner of your eye, her eyes practically glowing with anticipation at what would come next. One hand grabbed Lisa's slender waist while the other pushed against her back, bending Lisa over the sink. She giggled as she gripped the white porcelain for balance, moaning when she felt your cock start to probe her entrance.
You found her already dripping from her sex, running your cock along her folds before roughly sliding into her. "Shit" you moaned, the feeling of her tight sex enveloping you from the start. Your thick cock was splitting her in half and you could hear Lisa moan as her head fell forward.
"Are you okay?"
"Don't you dare stop," she told you. "Give me all of it, stud."
You didn't need any further instruction. You kept working your cock into her until you finally bottomed out inside of her, your balls pressed flush against her rear. It was heavenly. How many people around the world wanted to do this? Yet you were the one fucking the Thai princess in a restaurants bathroom.
You reached forward, one hand wrapping around Lisa's neatly done ponytail and pulled back her head raising. Her eyes locked with yours as you began to slowly withdraw your cock before slamming back into her.
"That's so fucking hot," you heard Jennie say.
Had your attention not been solely focused on fucking Lisa you might've spared her a glance. As it was, you were entranced by the talented dancer; your rhythm steadily increasing as she propped herself up against the sink. Fucking Lisa’s lithe, fit body was a whole different experience. Each time you moved inside of her, you felt like you might break her. Like your cock might punch through her cervix and bulge against her stomach. And yet Lisa took every inch like a goddess.
“Shit. Shit. Shit” she chanted, her body shaking with each thrusts, her head still pulled back, “You’re going to fucking break me. Is that what you want, stud? You want me to walk on stage with a limp from being fucked so good, huh?”
Your cock swelled inside of her at the thought. The filthy words driving your passion. You watched your reflection in the mirror, pounding the global starlit from behind. Truth be told you almost didn’t recognize yourself. In the span of a few months you had gone from drooling over your sisters friends and nearly coming yourself just from some provocative dancing to taking charge and fucking Jennie and now Lisa.
It made you realize her words were exactly what you wanted to do.
"That's exactly what I want to do," you grunted in response. One hand moved to slip around her throat, squeezing lightly as the other still held her ponytail, "I want my cum dripping down your leg when Money plays and you're dancing on stage."
Lisa moaned, struggling to maintain a state of coherence let alone form a proper response to your words. Fortunately, Jennie was more than willing to provide commentary as her fingers played with her own clit.
"Yeah? Are you going to sit in the front row to make sure?" she asked.
"That's right," you grunted.
You didn't know if you'd ever be able to look at Lisa the same again after this. Let alone when she was on stage performing an array of provocative moves. But logic no longer mattered. You were completely lost in the moment, saying anything and everything as long as it heightened the moment.
Too much. It was too fucking good. It was —
“Oh f-fuck,” Lisa let out, her eyes rolling back.
Her body tightened, her walls squeezing your length as her orgasm hit like an ocean wave on a stormy night. You weren't far behind, in fact as she shuddered against you you continued to thrust into her tight pussy. You buried yourself deep inside of her when your own release finally hit, painting her insides with your seed.
By the end of it you were utterly spent. And you weren't the only one either. Lisa slumped against the sink, letting it support her weight.
"I think I...I need a few minutes," she babbled.
Jennie licked her fingers, cleaning them of her own release. "Don't worry, stud. I'll take it from here. You go back before Jisoo really starts to ask questions."
You could only nod dumbly as your cock slipped out of Lisa, your cum seeping out of her hole. Needless to say, this had been one hell of a reunion.
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DPxDC Prompt: Damian's Friend
I feel like this has been done before so if it has please let me know!
-----
Damian is still learning to make friends. Sure, he has Superboy but according to his brothers and teachers he needed more friends. But why should he bother with new friends when one was already such a pain to keep up with? Social cues were hard to understand, jokes didn't make sense, and most civilians were far too squishy. He could end up hurting them accidentally and that would endanger his secret identity.
Though he quickly learned that meeting people as Robin made it considerably easier. That's how he ended up meeting Phantom, a 15-Year-Old boy who seemed rather lost. His only explanation for why he was in Gotham had been, "Listen, my mentor told me to come here and to stick with the birds and the bats. I don't know what that is or why I'm here but considering I don't seem to be able to go home yet I can only assume that I haven't found what I was looking for yet."
Phantom was strange, even for a meta. He didn't know what Gotham was, who Superman or Batman were, he had never heard of the Justice League, or even heard of 'metas' until Robin explained it to him. The kid seemed honest and he was staying out of the way of patrols and stuff which was more than most meta's did.
The only time he interfered with any fight was when Robin was cornered in a fight. In theory Robin would have been able to handle it but in the moment he had - admittedly - been a little in over his head. Phantom showed up and not only got Robin to safety but had managed to take down all of the enemies without killing anybody.
From that moment on Robin considered Phantom a friend and had given Phantom the number to one of the burner phones he kept on him during patrols. Phantom never called but would answer any time Robin checked in.
Which came in handy one day when the entirety of the team got trapped when a building came down, including one very frightened Superboy. The team was arguing loudly among themselves as they tried to figure out how to get out while Batman sat to one side with a headwound.
None of them were in good shape.
They were running out of air.
And the team were fighting and wasting even more air.
"We need more help." Nightwing said, "But I don't think Superman could hear us from here and nobody else in the city will be able to reach us before we run out of air."
"I could call my friend." Robin suggested, leaning against the wall.
"Uh..." Everybody looked at Superboy then each other.
"Your what?" Red Hood questioned.
"Is he saying friends?" Whispered Signal.
"Did you hit your head?" Spoiler asked, walking over as Robin stepped away from her.
"No, this is delirium. The air is too thin in here for him." Red Robin said.
"Robin, all your friends are right here." Superboy said.
Robin scoffed. "I have other friends. You guys told me I needed more friends, so I made friends. It was a task which I completed." He said, pulling out his phone as he silently muttered a 'please work' under his breath.
"Aw! I'm so proud of you!" Nightwing doted as Robin rolled his eyes and hit the call button.
"Yo, Robin, you see the collapse?" Phantom's voice said, sounding weirdly echoed on the line, not that it was unusual for Phantom's voice to do such a thing on calls.
"Bigger problems. I was inside the building during the collapse. Batman is down. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan, Signal, Spoiler, and Superboy are all in here with me. We need exfil."
"Oh shit, on my way. I can get all of you out at once but you guys will have to forget what personal space is for a minute." Phantom said as Robin ignored the looks from the others.
"Whatever it takes, but hurry we're running out of air."
"What floor are you on?"
"Basement."
"Got it, I'll be there in just a second." The call turned to static for a moment before Phantom phased through the ceiling and looked at them. "Wow, a party." Phantom said, ending the call and slipping the phone into a bag on his back.
"No time, get us out of here." Robin pushed.
Phantom nodded, "You and you put Batman between you." He ordered Nightwing and Red Hood who after a moment did as they were told, supporting Batman between them. "Now use your free hands and hug me. The rest of you guys hug them and no matter what do not let go of each other or me. If you do you'll die."
"Great, trust the weird glowing kid not to drop us and kill us or die here. This will only go well." Red Hood growled but didn't question it further as they all held onto Phantom.
Robin could feel the ground vanish from under them as they flew upwards through the building and then out into open air. Phantom then took then a safe distance from the building near where the police were and made sure they were all on the ground before he stopped flying.
"There you go. Thanks for riding Phantom-Air." Phantom said, sounding exhausted as he leaned against Robin who frowned up at the taller teen.
"You okay?"
"All good. Been a minute. You guys get checked out. See you around Robin." Phantom said, then flew away as Superboy grabbed Robin's arm.
"Are we going to talk about the fact that your new friend doesn't have a heartbeat?" He said anxiously.
"He... doesn't?" Robin tilted his head.
"No!" Superboy squeaked, "Where did you even meet that kid?!"
"He saved me from being shot. It's no big deal."
"Does B know he exists?" Red Robin asked.
"No."
"Then it's a big deal." The others sighed.
Nightwing shrugged. "Next time introduce us to him properly though, when we're not suffocating in a hole."
"I suppose I will consider it."
Orphan was quiet for a moment, "New brother?"
"NO!" They all said together as she chuckled.
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"Where my nice, simple plan fell apart"
This is my take on how Astarion’s romance might have progressed with a silly, chaotic energy bard Tav, who doesn’t really fall for his initial manipulation but rather humours it, throughout Act 1.
There will be more – I want to flesh this out and write more ‘behind the scenes’ moments, and continue this into Acts 2 and 3 (I’m still only at the beginning of Act 2 as I write this!)
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav
Comfort, fluff, budding love, cuddling, humour, no spoilers, non-explicit, light angst
Approximately 2,000 words.
~~~~~
“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.”
“Astarion, you insufferable trollop, what piece of cheap pulp did you fish that line from?!” you squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, wait, let me guess... Madame Scarlett?”
You watched his face turn from indignation to irritation, to finally settle in a resigned amusement, in a rapid succession.
“My, a fellow connoisseur of the vulgar arts? The Madame’s been dead and out of print for over a century. But yes.”
“A professional interest – a bard must be able to entertain all kinds of audiences, with all kinds of material”
“And would you indulge me with your expertise tonight? But I do much prefer show to tell...”.
This was the beginning. You did end up sleeping with him that night, despite his initial soppy attempt at seduction. And then it happened again another night. And then it kept happening...
You tried to be discreet about it at first, but of course it wasn’t long before the other members of your party noticed your nightly disappearances, and there was no point trying to conceal it.
You were vexed by their reactions – just about everyone found it necessary to at one point pull you aside and express their concerns about the vampire, asking you to be careful. This was, perhaps, justifiable – Astarion was admittedly quite stab-happy and had an inclination for bloodthirst (literally and figuratively). But he was on your side! And damned if you needed anyone’s approval for your choices in whom to bed!
By that point you and Astarion had turned the cliched language of poorly written erotica novels into an inside joke. Casually addressing each other in increasingly mawkish and over-elaborate terms had turned into a game. Once the secret of your escapades was out, you weaponised this game, turning it to deliberately exasperate everyone around you with your antics.
With your shared penchant for dramatic flair the two of you became utterly insufferable.
You would shout corny names at each other across camp:
“Oh precious, it’s your turn to set up the campfire! And no, I don’t care that you won’t be eating with us” you called out as the group stopped for the day to set up camp, but no answer followed. “My silver lynx..? Starry?? Snickerdoodle??”
“Your snickerdoodle wandered off to slaughter another bear!” came an exasperated shout from Wyll.
Strangers weren’t safe from your hijinks either:
“My sun, my beating heart, flame of my loins, ache of my head. All my riches, at your feet”, he declaimed to you in front of a confused and embarrassed vendor, as he rummaged through and shook out his pockets and sleeves, spilling an assortment of semi-precious gems, silver cutlery and somehow even an entire silver tray, pilfered from an abandoned manor you came across earlier.
Just to make the others uncomfortable, you would unceremoniously plop into Astarion’s lap at any given opportunity, including in your morning meetings to establish your itinerary for the day.
One evening, as you all sat around the campfire to enjoy a shared meal, Astarion (who would ordinarily stay away during this time, or sit nearby with a book) sank down next to you, lifted your hand towards his mouth, and nonchalantly sank his fangs into your wrist and began to suck, slurping.
“Oh, so I can’t enjoy a nice meal with everyone else, and have to be excluded? Bigots, the lot of you!” he chided, your blood dripping from his lips, to the sound of everyone’s shouts of shocked revulsion. Surprisingly, this was the closest you’d ever seen Lae’zel come to laughing.
(You and Astarion had arranged this prior, of course. Ever the gentleman, he always asked before he bit.)
Another night, as you were having a quiet chat with Shadowheart at her tent, while everyone else lounged at the fire, she asked: “So what is it like with him, really..? How is he?”
Suddenly finding yourself abashed by this genuinely intimate question, you covered it up with pomp and bravado. Winking at Shadowheart, you stood up, threw your head back and began to orate, making sure your thundering voice would be heard by the fire, which you had been separated from by a distance and some bushes:
“HIS MAGESTIC MANHOOD, WHEN UNSHEATHED, IS AN OBELISC OF MASCULINITY AND GLORY. IT IS A WONDER BIRDS DON’T CRASH INTO IT WHEN IT IS FULLY E- Ow! Who threw that?!”
A projectile salami from your camp supplies came flying from behind the bushes, and slammed into the side of your face.
All hell was breaking loose back at the campfire, as Wyll, Gale and a smug Astarion convulsed and shouted through poorly concealed laughter, blaming each other for the missile, as Karlach shook in hysterics and Lae’zel complimented the mystery thrower’s accuracy.
Gale did look more sheepish than the rest once you started to develop a black eye from the impact, promptly healed by Shadowheart.
What was it like with him?
Despite the flowery epithets and exaggerated displays of affection you awarded each other in public, in private you had a mutual understanding that it was all frivolous, no strings play. You had a parasite that could turn you into a mind flayer at any given moment, twisting in your brain. Every day bore violent encounters. Since the nautiloid crash, you hadn’t gone a single day without something trying to murder you. You didn’t want to have to worry about anything other than survival, and you took life day by day. Distractions were welcome, but actual romantic attachment would be a burden, you told yourself.
You thought of it as being friends with extended benefits.
You let him feed (well, snack, really) on you, of course. It wasn’t sexual, not since the first night. He used your wrist, so as not to be overwhelmed by the blood flow. He ended the sessions by healing you himself, assisted by a magical trinket he’d picked up somewhere on your journey. You made sure not to let Gale get his hands on that one.
In battles his arrows always picked off foes in your immediate vicinity, before they were directed to other targets. You’ve yelled at him for this, saying you were more than capable of holding your own, whilst you’d lost count of the revivify scrolls you’ve spent on Gale.
“Yes, well, the way the man goes on about his ‘natural talents’ and ‘mastery of the weave’, you’d think he’d put that big wise brain of his to developing a strategy for not getting stabbed so often” - Astarion rolled his eyes. “I’m just encouraging him to improve, really. And besides”, his eyes narrowed, “only I’m allowed to spill your blood, darling”. You frowned at that last bit, as he flashed you a sweet and almost innocent smile, and stalked off.
As for the other ‘benefits’ - the sex was intricate, if somewhat mechanic, almost too skillful on his behalf. Wanting more passion than efficiency, you eventually asked him to talk dirty to you. That made it nearly too intense for you to handle, and seemed to keep him more... personally engaged. During daytime you had to force yourself not to get caught up in flashbacks of his red eyes watching you writhe as he described what he was doing to you, what he was going to do to you, or how you looked while he worked your body.
The night that you, wanting to reciprocate, asked him exactly how he wanted to be pleasured and what he liked was a fiasco. You didn’t understand why. First he said something about being able to please you being his greatest reward and satisfaction (which you immediately shut down). Then he grew flustered and irritated, becoming uncharacteristically at a loss for words. You tried to divert the conversation, but the mood was unsalvageably ruined.
There was one takeaway from that debacle, however. After abandoning the idea of sex for the night, you laid next to each other, talking about nothing in particular: Baldur’s Gate, places you were both familiar with, comforts you were looking forward to having again. At one point he looked at his jacket, which you’d been lying on, and lamented that he couldn’t find any gold thread to fix the embroidery. You laughed and rolled over to give him a hug, and simply never let go. He wordlessly pulled you closer once it was clear you had no intention of leaving. That was the first time that you fell asleep and slept through the night in his arms.
This became somewhat of a ritual, or another game with unspoken rules. Once you were done with each other, you’d pretend to quickly fall asleep with your face nested in the crook of his neck, or to otherwise be too exhausted to get up and make way to your own tent or bedroll. He pretended not to notice the regularity with which this was happening. You pretended not to notice the soft kisses he started leaving on your neck or forehead once he thought you were really asleep. It seemed... important, somehow, that you both pointedly refused to acknowledge any of it. You sensed that otherwise a certain line would be crossed.
Last night, you were too exhausted to even think of anything but sleep by the time everyone started turning in for the night. Yet rest wasn’t even on the horizon for you – you remembered that you’d neglected to clean your weapons and carry out the well overdue maintenance on your equipment, which you did not allow anyone else to touch even when offered. You were planning to venture into the shadow-cursed lands the following day. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy. You begrudgingly set about your tasks. Astarion was as tired as everyone else, you figured it was needless to say you’d spend the night apart. And yet...
“I guess I finally get my bedroll all to myself tonight, how delightful” you heard behind you. “No one to wrap themselves around me, no one nuzzling into my neck... Only free, undisturbed personal space” You heard a hint of dejection beneath the sarcasm, and something in your stomach flipped, giving you pause.
“I’ll come back for a cuddle if you say please” you murmured over your shoulder.
“Never!” he rasped in a perfect imitation of Lae’zel when you asked the same of her before freeing her from a tiefling cage, and disappeared into his tent.
Over an hour later, as you collapsed into your own bedroll, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from across the camp, tent flap ajar. You held Astarion’s gaze.
“Please”, he mouthed soundlessly, smiling as he lifted the edge of his blanket.
Within moments, you slipped into his embrace, pressing your lips against his. But his kisses were gentle and feather light, lacking the usual persistent neediness.
You pulled away from him, locking eyes as he softly ran his hand down your cheek, brushing your lower lip with his thumb.
“Gods, you’re beautiful” he breathed.
That night he fell asleep with his head against your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.
Your breath caught in a silent sob as you were overwhelmed by a bittersweet realization of how much you really stood to lose if you failed in the journey still ahead of you. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier or more miserable before in your life, as you hugged him tighter.
~~~~~
Next in series
AO3
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Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)
mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole
plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.
tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.
wc: 2.2k
Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3
“Whatcha doing?”
Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.
His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.
Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.
“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.
“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”
Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.
“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”
“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”
“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”
“Well it is noon.” He points out.
“And?”
“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”
A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.
“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”
“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”
“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”
“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”
“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”
“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”
You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.
Almost.
Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.
A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.
“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.
“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.
“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”
“This isn’t funny!”
“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”
“T-Toji!”
Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.
“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”
You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.
“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.
“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”
You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”
“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”
His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.
The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—
“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”
Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”
A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”
In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.
“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”
His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.
But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”
He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.
"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"
His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.
Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.
“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"
Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.
He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”
“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.
“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”
“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.
“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.
“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”
“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”
“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”
“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.
You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.
He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.
His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.
A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.
“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.
“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”
“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”
“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.
a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.
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One more question(for now) why do people on tumblr use tags to talk #like this #about whatever they think of the post, instead of just commenting on the reblog😭 Is there an etiquette I'm missing?
short answer: yes.
long answer, there is an etiquette to it, and I think it's a longstanding thing that just ended up ingrained in a lot of users, which comes off as cold/shy/outlandish or maybe even standoffish to people from other sites and apps. there's no be-all end-all of how to act online or on here but i think in terms of most* people (*speaking broadly, making this up) who've used tumblr for a while it feels like this:
tumblr is a theater, the dashboard is a stage, each post is a performance. (a joke, a dramatic act, a story, a movie, a picture, etc.) you have a variety of ways to interact with the performance, but some of them are going to be more frowned upon--based purely on how the long standing visitors of the theater are used to acting, honestly.
likes are a polite applause, but they don't show anyone outside of the theater that you enjoyed yourself, or what you enjoyed. the performer appreciates the applause but does not garner any new viewers when you only like a post, btw.
silent reblogs mean you exit the theater with merch or a leaflet and go show it to other people. look what i saw on the stage, don't you want to see it too. this shows the performance to a new variety of viewers, who might then also show it to others.
replies and reblogs with content are often seen as """"rude"""" because they're like standing up at the end of the performance and loudly saying "that was okay but I think MY take on things makes it just a BIT better." people are more forgiving of this when it's something universally true or acceptable, or when it's very funny. if it's not (and even if it is, sometimes,) there'll potentially be a reblog down the line making fun of it (and this is another person in the theater standing up and making a fart noise, regardless of how tasteless or rude.) it's never actually "wrong" to add comments on a reblog unless you're being intentionally hurtful, and it's normal to add commentary to a friend's post, but even then, people seeing this from the outside may see that as obnoxious and impolite and try to call you on it anyway. (people are very weird about enforcing what they see as a universal rule of etiquette, when this is admittedly the only site where you'll be punished for adding to the discussion.)
and again, this is an absolutely arbitrary rule because what one person finds universally true and hilarious, another will find trite and stupid and too niche. the polite thing to do in the case of the latter is just reblog from further up the chain than the commenter, but people aren't always nice when they're annoyed.
getting to your actual question now, comments in the tags are a way to leave remarks that you DON'T want to shout to the whole theater. these are you whispering to yourself or your friend, or writing in a guestbook on the way out. people can see/hear it if they go looking for it, but you're not shouting over the performance to get your piece out. it's polite because it's unobstructive and doesn't take up space, and if your tags don't make sense to someone else or seem too niche, they don't have to share the post with your commentary attached.
adjacent to this, "peer review" or screenshotting someone's tags to insert them in the post is like if you did whisper to your friend, then your friend wrote your comments on a whiteboard and held it up for others to see. as this is a form of commentary within the reblog, it's again subject to an arbitrary universal/niche rule. just because a tag gets peer reviewed doesn't mean it's beyond reproach by strangers.
also in line with this general line of thought experiment, blazing a post means that between acts, you run up on the stage and start shouting your piece. it is, once again, going to be more acceptable to strangers to see you do this if it's something universally funny, true, or cute. this is why niche fandom posts, vent posts, and self promotions get ignored or booed down, while pet birthday photos and silly jokes get blazed and get a lot of notes regardless.
lastly, a kungpowpenis is when twelve+ individuals from the audience get up and beat the shit out of the person performing on stage and leave their corpse on display in the town square.
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LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR
synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.
pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker
a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour
you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.
that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.
yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.
some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.
admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.
but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.
-
once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?
well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals.
“but what about dazai? that idiot just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right?
at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”
-
that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.
initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.
because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.
however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room.
this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room.
“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off.
you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”
“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.”
you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that’s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.
“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.
an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai.
just who in the world are they talking about?
dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”
“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.
“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”
dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity.
chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.”
“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.
“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.
after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.
“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys.
you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.
e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??
© TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.
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play ball!
*warnings: basketballplayer!ellie, afab reader insert, oral (reader and Ellie receiving), fingering - very Toni inspired from The Wilds teehee, oui’d (trigger warning - science)
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At first she was just your lab partner. You’d been sat next to each other by chance, in a class that had a very torn ‘fan base’ so to speak. Luckily, when Ellie grumbled, “Fuckin’ hate chem. Physics is the cooler science. Only reason why we got on the moon,” you knew this semester was going to be mildly more tolerable.
But some days you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tip-toe over the line between peers, friends, and a more intense third option. Some days it was strict - work on the lab, punch in the numbers, hand in the work to the professor. Other days, she’d crack a dad joke or two and watch you laugh. Then once in a while, you got the occasional lingering touch or gaze. Like one time, she needed to grab a ruler from the front of the class, and as she stood from her stool and slipped behind you, her palms fell to your shoulders and squeezed.
You could try to argue she was trying to build a friendship, something innocent and platonic. However…Ellie was a walking stereotype: short nails, insanely hot tattoos, carabiner hooked around her belt loop, the occasional lip bite when you giggled at her, and not to mention she was on the basketball team. Truly, all she was missing was the Nike headband and the high bun (which you were admittedly relieved she didn’t wear).
“Hey, let me ask you something,” she sat the marble at the top of the ramp you’d been working on for the better part of a week.
“Okay…” you mindlessly answered, readying the stopwatch on your phone.
She let the marble go and watched as it rolled down, not paying too much mind to Ellie studying you instead, “Do you want to come to my game this weekend?”
Color erupted in your cheeks. The marble rolled onto the floor and the stop watch ran beyond the time it needed to.
Ellie scoffed and left her seat to get the item rolling across the linoleum. Your eyes watched her every move as you formulated the right response. Hopefully the slight tremble in your hand wouldn’t give away your excitement.
“Yeah. When is it?” You swallowed, face ablaze.
Ellie threw the marble up in front of your face and caught it midair, clearly trying to pull a reaction from you, “Saturday at one. I want to see you in the stands.”
-
And see you in those fucking stands she did. You sat directly in the middle, removed from the families there to support their daughters darting across the court. You remembered Ellie briefly mentioning her adoptive dad a few times, so you scanned the seats to see who could be blessed enough to call her their child.
When the whistle from the middle of the court rang your eyes searched around for a familiar head of auburn hair. She had it tied half up half down, arms on full display and a hilariously serious look on her face. You knew that the basketball team wasn’t anything super special considering the football team got all the attention, and also the fact that you lost most of the games. According to Ellie, it was surprising you were even playing this far in the season. Regardless, the orange ball zipped around the court that was filled with shredded women squeaking their sneakers on the waxed floor. The sport was much more fast paced than you had anticipated. But the real excitement picked up when Ellie’s lengthy fingers finally got a chance at the ball. She was dribbling down the opposite end of the court, trying to get to a decent place where she could shoot or at least pass it to someone. Two players from the opposite team managed to get in front of her and block her. They had some inches on her, but surely that didn’t intimidate her. She was quickly looking for a way out.
“Shoot it Ellie! C’mom!” A man with salt and pepper hair shot from his seat. His voice boomed scarily - that must be her dad.
She flashed a look over her shoulder, smirked at him, then had just enough time to catch your spot in the stand. Thankfully she had kept her feet moving, swishing the ball through her legs and dodging possible steals. After briefly meeting your gaze, she got back to business, tricking the players out of her next move and running toward the net, completing a layup.
The man cheered for Ellie with his thick southern drawl, “That’s it! That’s my girl!” You couldn’t help but clap and cheer alongside everyone else.
As she sauntered back over to the other end of the court, she brought the end of her jersey to her brow to wipe away the sweat reflecting so deliciously from the lights - not before winking at you of course. You felt like a silly school girl when your knees pressed together. You couldn’t think of a single other thing you wanted to be doing this fine Saturday afternoon. Well…one thing of course that involved some of Ellie’s obviously skilled fingers.
Another play began and more squeaking sneakers filled the court. It was getting pretty intense, a constant back and forth for what felt like ages - supposedly the defense on both teams was excellent. Finally it seemed like someone was starting to give, unfortunately it was your schools team, because one of the players from the opposite team was desperately trying to make a shot but Ellie was just a little too good at playing defense. You were amazed at how quick she was. Sadly that wasn’t enough, because the player got by her to make the shot, but as they did you watched their elbow jab right into Ellie’s nose. In the same instant the ball went through the net, whistles were blown and people were running over to Ellie.
“That was on purpose!” Ellie’s dad spat angrily.
Through the small crowd around her you saw all the blood on her hand and even more trailing from her nose. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands. As you watched her get ushered over to the rest of the team, you watched how Ellie’s stare fixated on the rotten player who had gotten her. When she saw her window, she took it, slipping out of the group and over to the player.
“Motherfucker!” A mixture of blood and spit splattered across the players face.
If people hadn’t stepped in sooner, a full blown fight would’ve broken out. Needless to say, Ellie was sat out for the rest of the game after seeing first aid.
-
“Let me look at that-“ you awkwardly watched Ellie’s dad hold her jaw and turn her face from side to side, “look at that goddamn bruise, she needs to be kicked off the team.” He rambled on.
“Dad, stop it-“ Ellie smacked away his hand, her eyes darting to you from behind him.
He studied her for a moment, before deciding his anger was getting him no where. He knew his daughter probably wanted to sit down and get some water, probably get a shower, too. He sighed, “Well, I’m glad you stuck up for yourself. Good work,” he brought her in for a hug and patted her on the back, “proud of you kiddo. Love you, see you soon.”
You tried your best to hold back an admirable giggle as he turned and passed by you, tilting his head and briefly greeting you with a, “Howdy.”
So you greeted Ellie with the same thing, smiling widely.
“Texas, my dad is from Texas - oh shut up.” Ellie shoved your shoulder playfully.
Now you got to see the bruising on her right eye, there was a bandage across the bridge of her pretty nose hiding the scratch. Thinking back on it, she was pretty hot to watch when she was angry. Now she had something to show for it, so every time you looked at her the scene would replay in your head.
You bit your lip shyly, “You’re uh, you’re alright.” You wished you had researched the sport a little more so you had something to actually talk about.
“Mm - really?”
“Yeah.”
Ellie ran her tongue across her teeth, “Well, I’m glad you think so. Maybe you can tell me just how alright I am tonight when I pick you up.”
How was she so clever? So quick?
Once again she had you fighting for words, “Sure, uhm…what time?”
“You have anything going on at eight?” You shook your head, “Now you do. I’ll see you then.”
Some of that southern charm must’ve rubbed off onto her over the years.
-
“Oh fuck! Ellie-“
Your fingers were deep in her hair not sure where else to grab in the backseat of her car. Between your moans, the faint music and the absolutely sinful squelching being born from Ellie being knuckle deep in you, it was hard to orient yourself at all. Her tongue sucked and danced on your clit like it was part of her daily routine - and thankfully she did because it had your limbs turning to jelly. Eventually your greed got the best of you because your hips began to grind back against her tongue.
“Shiiiit…”
You pushed her head closer to you, shamelessly using her mouth as a sex toy, because that’s what it essentially was. And she didn’t object either, moaning and panting into your cunt like she was the one with three fingers deep. Each roll of your hips pushed you closer to your climax, adding a whine or pout to your moans.
It seemed though, Ellie had different plans, because her free arm came down on your hips, holding you steady in place. As she pumped into you, her other fingers attacked your clit with a quick waving motion, sending stimulation to you at an almost ungodly pace.
Through your quickened breaths you swore, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck-!”
“Uh huh, c’mom give it to me.” Ellie purred, watching your cunt closely.
Your brain had omitted anything that wasn’t Ellie and your orgasm, leaving you to just moan out a warning that was your approaching orgasm. And she knew, especially when you started clamping down on her fingers, hips jolting, and the borderline scream coming from your lips.
“That’s it, cum on my fingers.”
You began to notice the way Ellie was able to get you do just about anything. She wasn’t big on asking, more on instructing. And you loved it. Especially when she hit you with:
“Okay, my turn.”
You weren’t given much time to come back to earth after the orgasm that just hit you, but the sound of Ellie’s zipper sobered you up pretty quick. As she shimmied off her jeans, you eyed her hips poking out, and the little copper happy trail leading below her black boxers. Drool was pooling under your tongue. She reached for the hem of her boxers, but you pushed her hands aside, taking it upon yourself to rip them down her legs yourself. Your palms must’ve been cold from the way goosebumps littered her thighs as your palms ran down the inners of them; or she was just that excited. She sucked in air through her teeth at the sensation of your lips exploring her hips, licking along her happy trail, feeling the muscle tighten beneath it. Ellie was really beginning to feel the heat building in thr backseat now. There was the undeniable scent of her car fresher, weed, and pussy. Bath and Body Works should take notes.
Starting with your fingers, you dipped into the warm wetness of her cunt and spread her slick, licking off what was left. You didn’t waste another second and let your tongue and lips latch onto her clit, making her moan lowly, leaving you to grumble one of your own. Testing the waters you paid attention to what made her moan and what didn’t, continuing to tease the idea of slipping in a finger or two to see how she would react. Every time your finger circled near her entrance she pushed closer to you and eventually let her fingers snaked into your hair. With you sucking on her clit, she welcomed your middle finger, and you enjoyed how she felt around you.
“Yes-!” She encouraged.
As you massaged her cunt, you marveled in the sounds that she made. You noticed she tried to put on a stoic front, but after you got in a second finger it seemed whatever face she was trying to put on dropped into something that was akin to a porn star. She seemed borderline primal and desperate, grinding down on your fingers and wanting you to get messy with your tongue.
“Faster babe..”
And when you obeyed, her head tilted back gloriously and she wasn’t afraid to let loose. She pushed into you as much as you pumped into her with your burning wrist and jaw. As much as your muscles were begging for relief and a break, your mind was taking snapshots of her manhandling your head and groaning with half-lidded eyes. Not to mention the sultry-ness of her voice:
“Just like that.”
“Right there babe.”
“Fuck - that feels good.”
If you could get those words on loop in your head forever you would. That - or the sensation of her beginning to tighten around your fingers and roll her hips harder onto your face.
She struggled to catch her breath and do you the decency of warning you: “Cumming, I’m cumming I’m cumming-!”
Her thighs squeezed on each side of your head and she took fistfuls of your hair. Her eyes squeezed closed, jaw dropping and a deeply satisfied, “Fuuuck,” rolling off her tongue. A new flavor of sweetness greeted your tastebuds and you caught yourself feverishly lapping at her like a fucking animal. And you would’ve until the sun came up, but Ellie began to whimper softly and squirm away from your advances.
So you let up, gently removing yourself from her and happily licking your fingers clean. She had one hand cradling the back of her head with her eyes closed, desperate to catch her breath. Under her breath she swore and ran her hands down her face to let herself know she was still human. Once your eyes met, you grew shy again, immediately taken aback by how sexily intimidating Ellie’s stare could be - even when she looked fucked out.
She took you gently by the jaw and led you toward her face to envelope you in a sloppy, wet kiss. You knew her goal was to taste herself, and you hoped she did, especially when she hummed as your tongues swirled. It was enough to have you pushing her back against the seats again…but you refrained. Pulling away from the kiss left you breathless.
Ellie looked into your eyes for a beat, “Wanna smoke?”
“With my lab partner? Sure.”
“Ouch.”
You both threw back on your pants and made your way into the front seats to spark up once more. How were you supposed to face her in class now?
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the lakes (6) // finnick odair x f. reader
merry christmas to all who celebrate, my gift to you 🎄
summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.
previous chapter / next chapter
midnight rain
5k words
warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT MDNI (y'all better eat it up while it's here bc this might be one of like twice or three times so merry christmas lmao), orgasm denial, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly mean finnick but also softdom, mentions and allusions to trafficking and sexual trauma, self-hate, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions to death/violence, pnv, usage of weapons, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, unedited, cumming inside, mental health issues, self doubt, hypocritical reader, savior complex finnick
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Cold air hit your skin as the doors to the training center opened, instantly you could feel the onslaught of goosebumps on your arms. “Remember brush up on skills, knives, spears and number one objective-”
"Katniss.” You finished for him. "You go get your hands back on that trident, and hopefully my instincts will remember what it takes to throw a knife or a spear.”
"If not, work on some survival skills, but I think the instincts will kick in.” You tilted your head to the side, uncertain but humoring the idea. He kissed you softly, “See you soon."
"I'm only going to be a few hundred feet away, Finnick.” You smiled and he did too.
“Well that's a few hundred feet too far.”
"Good thing you can come find me anytime you want.” Squeezing his hand as you reluctantly took a few steps back.
“You don't want to come and admire me back in my element?" He joked, his grin bearing his shining teeth.
“In your dreams, Odair."
“Absolutely!" Finnick's eyebrows quirked up before you finally pulled yourself out of his magnetic field to focus on the more viral thing, survival.
It had been so long since you'd thrown a knife with purpose, over half a decade which had been what you felt most confident in. Of course there had been a couple times, admittedly more than a couple, when your nerves spiked up and a moment where you were simply making dinner, chopping something up, to being spooked by a noise that led to a knife wedged in a wall or cupboard. So Finnick cooked and cut, he wasn't as easily startled or on edge.
This year they had clearly made more of an investment into the training, a little pad verifying it was you when you stood on the elevated block. You took a second before lifting the tiny weapons from where they lay, the weight was instantly familiar in a way that made your chest heave. It felt like you were that same young girl again, trying to see what could help her survive, help her overcome others. Finnick has been right, how to throw a knife, how to throw it to kill, all came back like child's play.
The instant the first hologram appeared it was like your brain went on autopilot, they weren't real but your brain was screaming, survive, survive, survive. Each knife flew from your hand with lethal aim, your arms instinctively knew what to do, how to throw precisely as fast as possible. So you trusted your body when suddenly the simulation was over, you felt your head coming back to reality. It was terrifying, you'd felt like you were in a dizzy high and suddenly you were that same young girl terrified in the arena. Full of guilt and regret for the lives you'd taken.
“I thought your weapon of choice was a spear." A voice cut through your thoughts, bringing your thoughts back to the person you were now. Peeta, ever outgoing and charismatic just as he'd been depicted, with an untrusting looking Katniss not far behind.
“No, that's what was convenient at the end, but the spear was never mine, it was-"
“Conway’s." Katniss finished the name you hated saying, hated remembering for you. “You killed in the Bloodbath with knives and then the girl from District 2." She must have been rewatching everyone's games, learning their tactics.
“Ironic, weren't they the District 2 girl from last year's weapon of choice as well?" You asked, stepping off the platform.
“Yes." She was tense, stiff it radiated off of her, stagnating the air.
“When there's such limited options, it's hard to get much differentiation. You certainly helped mix the bag last year.” Not just with her little bow and arrow, you hoped she knew what you were really saying, but couldn't with the people watching from above. She probably didn't, she was like a guard dog who didn't know whether or not one could be warmed up too, but would always assume the worst.
“I'm glad that was entertaining." Her voice was bitter as if she had no idea that everyone here has gone through the exact same trauma and felt the same way.
“It certainly was for them." You glanced upwards, towards the head game maker and his cronies observing you all like lab rats. “Most of us were." The Morphlings certainly had to be the most boring show of all, to those who couldn't realize it was such a smart tactic to stay alive, even if it didn't make great daytime television.
“You should teach us how to throw sometime." Peeta inserted himself back into the conversation. "If you want, we could teach each other things. I could go over camouflage.” He offered with a smile.
“Yeah of course!" You smiled back. “When you blended into the rocks by that stream, it was truthfully unfathomable in talent to be able to do that."
“And Katniss can shoot, I'm sure you've seen, but she never misses." Katniss shot him a glare, "Just following Haymitch's orders.” Peeta shrugged before his eye was caught by Johanna finishing up with her ax training. “I should get a formal introduction." He was walking away when Katniss spoke again.
“Why'd you volunteer for that girl?" She asked, and you turned your head towards her.
“For Annie?" You felt like it was obvious, but Katniss just nodded. “I wasn't going to put her through this again, that wouldn't have been fair of me. I couldn't let any of them, I couldn't have lived with myself if I had, so I might as well die on that hill now." Your candor seemed to make her less stiff. “You know, she was the first tribute I mentored. Years after my games, I did everything I could to help her win, to prepare her, but I couldn't prepare her for what happened after. Seeing her after that it was like I failed." Annie would forever be known as the one who went "a little crazy.” Maybe that was a blessing though, maybe it saved her from a much worse fate. Katniss' eyes finally looked more soft, not off guard, but not blocked off from your words.
“Even though you know this time only one of you can come out?" Her eyes briefly flickered towards Finnick before landing back on you.
“I'm not expecting to be the one who makes it out and she wouldn't have either. It's worth it to save her, he'll be fine without me." The words were too raw, too much like being stripped naked, but you knew you needed her to trust you and being honest would probably be the most effective route. Of course she couldn't completely trust you if she'd watched your games, you didn't blame her for that, but you just needed a little of it. “It's not different from what you did for your sister, sometimes you just know when that person needs to be protected no matter what that means for you."
Katniss began walking over to where the spears were located, “Like Peeta said, if you show me how to use the spear and the knives, I can show you how to shoot the bow and what plants and berries you can trust." This was her way of some form of acceptance you realized and internally congratulated yourself.
“Sounds like a deal to me." You picked one of the heavy spears up, it was also just as you remembered. It brought back flashes of the boy who taught you how to use it, the boy you'd killed with it. You could tell what she was thinking as you held it, how you used Conway, used his emotions and then his own weapon. “You know, the funny thing is people act like he didn't know, but that’s really what made it so brilliant.” Katniss looked confused as you stepped into the platform, which confirmed it was you. "Looking back you realize how early on he had me figured out and was playing me right back, I really think that's what endeared us to each other in the first place. He was trying to beat me at my own game almost from the beginning and I didn't even realize.” You launched the spear into the first hologram before quickly grabbing the other as Katniss watched on, absorbing the seemingly impromptu rant. “I can't blame him, I don't blame him even if I'm the one who gets it all placed on my head, which I probably deserve." Another spear knocking the hologram figure apart. The final one ready to fly. “You just have to remember who the real enemy is."
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
"You two already have an advantage being from District 4, plenty of opportunities to practice with what you would be good at using in lessons. So stick with whatever you were good at then to impress, but don't forget to learn other skills that could be life saving in the long run.” Finnick was breaking down the plan for the two of you as the walk for the first training session with the other tributes was about to ensue. Although it went unspoken you'd also been blessed with extra practice even from back when you were dating Finnick in the district, he was so anxious that he needed to ensure you knew how to protect yourself. That you polished your skills, which he was sure you could do.
"Show off your strengths, but don't forget you're not just impressing the gamemakers, but the approval of other tributes can be vital. Alliances are important.” Ondine added.
Finnick nodded in agreement, “Another advantage from District 4, is the availability of the Career pack of tributes. All of the best trained and prepared tributes, especially if you show off enough to impress Districts 1 & 2 you're both a shoe-in. I'd encourage that as the strongest choice."
“I don't think we should do that." Conway’s voice of disagreement made you stop in your tracks. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be going on in his head that possessed him to argue with your mentor, someone who'd won before? Finnick raised an eyebrow, in a look you could only describe as patronizing. “I'm just saying that also means they're the best prepared to stab us in the back when it comes down to it. If we ally with tributes from a less prominent district it could make it easier when it comes down to it, make it less vicious.” He was delusional, it would be vicious no matter what when there were just a few people left.
You looked at Ondine who’s eyes were closed as she shook her head, Finnick's arms were crossed as he looked at the two of you, and Conway looked expectantly right at you. Then it hit you, this was a test. In order to maintain his trust in the fantasy you'd been carefully creating you'd have to take his side, prove you weren't loyal to every thing Finnick muttered. Even if it was hypocritical it angered you, it felt hellishly unfair that he would put you in a predicament like that. Who cared about the relationship between you and Finnick when he was the mentor offering advice to save both of your lives?
Conway pointed at you, urging you for a response. “I mean, what do you think? I'm just babbling aloud, I'll drop it if you think it's stupid." Maybe you were just paranoid, no, this was definitely a loyalty test. To him your love would mean support, it would mean unwavering devotion. So you painfully forced a caring, understanding look in your eyes, for your muscles to relax, and a loving smile on your face.
“Of course we should keep our options open, I mean we're not even there yet, the Careers this year might not even be the best options. You're right, Conway, we should consider every path to help us." Of course the Careers would be prepared, he was going to get you killed if he kept pulling this. Reasoning that at least your actions were well calculated not blindly emotional scrutinization. It made you slightly resent him, but the answer seemed to satisfy him as he grinned at the other two before beginning to walk again.
The slight spring in his step was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention, it upset you. When you hoped Conway wasn't watching, you shot a look towards Finnick. It was quick, but you grimaced and hoped your eyes could express your annoyance. Although the bob of his head was equally quick you could see he understood and was feeling just as enraged as you felt if not more. How could Conway claim to care about you when he could threaten a potentially life saving alliance to try and prove a point about how much you felt for him over Finnick? Although Finnick still wore a charming smile you could feel him seething and it comforted you somehow to know that he would never, that he would always pick safety, your safety and that he wouldn't stand for Conway’s games either. Even if rationally it did make sense, you were messing with him which both you and Finnick knew, but there wasn't time to think on that when it was life and death.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
“You're brilliant, even if it pains me to admit that you beat me to it." Finnick shook his head, smiling wildly. Haymitch had informed you that so far Katniss would have liked you as an ally if it weren't for the package deal that included Finnick. A feat considering all the tributes that wanted to ally with her after her impressive show in the archery station. It had truly been amazing, how smoothly she used the weapon, and how accurate she was.
“Well, you're welcome." You pecked him on the lips, smiling. Sitting down on the bed and smoothing out your robe, Finnick soon followed.
“I love you so much." He mumbled as he crashed down onto the mattress.
“I love you too, Finnick." Your head lay down by his, quietly counting the freckles scattered across his face.
“Staring is rude." His eyes shone with his internal brightness that he couldn't hide from you.
“Isn't that a perk I should get being your wife and all?" He scooted closer, nose brushing against yours.
“I suppose. Don't know why you'd need to, there's no need to memorize when you're stuck with me forever now."
“Good." There was nothing you wanted more than to see his handsome face every day, from when you woke to when you slept and every moment in between.
His hot hands embraced your cold face, making you shiver and he smirked. It was so patronizing, how he knew that his skin to yours was like fire on ice so you had no choice but to melt, but you couldn't stop yourself from softening anyways. Before you could even try and conjure up words to try and call him out, his lips were on yours.
He wasn't aggressive, never, but his gentleness didn't take away from his control. Your lips chased him and suddenly you were beneath him, swept up in his plush lips. Hands searched for him before he pulled his face away. You couldn't stop yourself before you whined at the removal of his lips from yours, pouting at him.
He scoffed, looking down at you slightly condescending, “Really, angel?" You could feel your face heating up as his eyes gazed at you, his hand delicately tracing the hem of your robe. “We don't have to do this, if you don't want to, sweet girl. You have to communicate with me, I don't want to push you, if you even don't feel comfortable you need to tell me." It felt like too much in the moment when it seemed so blatantly obvious that you wanted him, craved him. But it also made you love him so much more.
For so long it had been difficult to even be touched. The Capitol had come in and dug their talons into you, your own intimacy didn't even belong to you. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You'd tried to push it down, he'd dealt with it for so much longer, since he was so much younger. Pushing it down didn't stop the roots of trauma from taking root deep within your soul though.
You felt guilty for not being able to give yourself in so many ways to Finnick who was unbelievably patient, of course he was, he understood, he cared. When you'd finally grazed your hand against his and let him grab it, the pureness of the touch was enough to make you burst into tears. That made it more difficult too though, your tears. A tactic that had once seemed wise in winning over the Capitol as a sweet, innocent girl had come back to bite you. Echoes of how pretty you were when you cried.
When you'd finally given that part of yourself to Finnick, of your own accord, the will that has usually been taken from you. He'd made sure you wouldn't regret it, he brought back the positives of intimacy which you'd forgotten about. You were so used to calling upon the tears as you zoned out, floated away. But not with Finnick, never with him. Where you both belonged to each other and were truly connected as one.
“Are you comfortable?" You asked softly. It felt selfish that he was so worried about you with what he'd been through as well, like it was too much about you.
Finnick sighed, “Don't do that." You looked at him quizzically, “Averting the question, you shouldn't be doing it to please me, I'll be okay. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't.” His hand stroked the side of your face which chased each movement. "Are you certain you want this? I'm not going to be upset if you say no, angel.” The way he loved you so deeply to be going step by step wasn't even grating anymore it just made your heart buzz even more.
"I do want this Finnick, I know what to say if it is too much.” The thumb grazing your neck was enough to make your eyes roll back, your entire body sensitive with the waiting.
Finnick nodded, slowly. Making sure you weren't just trying to appease him, "Color?”
You sighed dramatically, "Green.” He tugged your hair lightly, "Ow!”
"So impatient, trying to take good care of my girl and she's too desperate to appreciate it.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.
You pouted, “I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm just-" You gasped as his hand slipped in your rope, warm hand grazing the cold, hardness of your nipple. Legs rubbing together, his other hand, instantly sitting between them to hold them still.
“Speak up, angel. Just what?" That's what you appreciated so much, he was dominant, took care of you without the casual cruelty others often used. Of course he could be cruel in the best way, a type that still cared and knew what the line was and respected it.
“Need you, please. So, so bad." Your hands grabbed his shoulders, then the sides of his neck desperately trying to feel more of his warmth.
He hummed condescendingly, “You do?" His hand left your breast to the toe of the robe which he slowly unknotted. You nodded, brows furrowed as you tried to buck your hips. The hand prevented your legs from getting closer together, hitting your inner thigh but not in a forceful manner. “Come on sweet girl, can't you behave for me, won't you be my good girl?" His ocean eyes had you nodding along mindlessly. “Words."
“Yes, please, I just, please I need more."
“So needy." The knot on your robe untied, falling open to reveal you to the crisp air. His hand trailing down to where you needed him most, the feeling already sending shocks through your body. You wanted desperately to buck your hips up once again but resisted. He chucked, “Is this all for me? I haven't even really touched you yet." You nodded desperately, the teasing made you want to cry in desperation. Which was fine, but thinking about it scared you, the way they'd taken away two things that were so natural, so personal would distract you.
“Finnick." You said shakily and the time instantly made his face get serious.
“Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head vigorously.
"No, just-” Your fingers fiddled with the blanket, embarrassed, "Can you just take some deep breaths with me?”
"Of course, my love.” He grabbed the hand nervously moving around the blankets to hold it to his heart. “You're okay, in and out with me, angel." You closed your eyes, breathing with him, his heart reverberating through you. “Let me know when you want to keep going or stop." He whispered.
“Finnick, I just want to cry, not in a bad way just it's been so, so ruined for me." Weaponized, sexualized.
He nodded, “You can cry if you want, I'll wipe them away from you." The idea made you want to cry at his sweetness alone.
“Okay." Your voice was shaky, “We can keep going, please." His fingers began moving again, right over your core. Palm slightly running against you and it took all of you to not rub with him. Fingers delicately circling your sensitive nub and you moaned out. The first tears falling which he diligently wiped away with his time and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is that good?" You nodded blissfully and he swatted at your bareness causing a yelp.
“Yes, thank you Finnick, so good."
“Good girl, such a fast learner." You whimpered, toes curling. “What do you need?"
“In me, please."
“What, my fingers?" He held one hand up, moving them in front of your face. The man was mocking you, he knew what you meant and he kept rubbing your clit, making it nearly impossible to keep verbalizing.
“No!" You stammered out desperately. He smirked and removed his fingers from your bundle of nerves, causing you to hit his arm in frustration before he was grinding his clothed member on you and your hands wrapped around his shoulder tightly. You nodded intently, “Yes please. Want you to be inside of me, want to be one Finnick, yours." It hit you that this was the consummation of your marriage which made your heart swell as well as your need.
“Can't deny you anything, sweet girl." He was such a liar, but right now he followed through. Your hands began pulling down the pants he wore, desperate to free him so he could be buried in your walls. He groaned as your hand grazed his tip, precum dotting it. You licked your lips and he smirked cockily, “Another time, angel."
"How do you want me?” You asked, you'd take him anyway he wanted just to be clenched around him.
"Just the way you are is perfect, wanna see you, beautiful.” He lined himself up with your soaked entrance, "Are you sure, you're ready? Don't need more preparation.” You shook your head vigorously, pushing yourself forward to feel the tip and he grunted.
“Don't need it, so wet, I can take you, promise."
"Only if you're sure.” You nodded again, pouting.
"Please!” You whined and with that he didn't hold back, pushing his full length in and you nearly screamed. Clenching your walls around him, fingernails digging into him.
“That feel good?"
“So, so, so good." You began sliding your hand down, but he caught it tutting in disapproval.
"I've got you, angel, just lay there like a good girl. Let me take care of you too, you're making me feel so good.” His expert fingers went straight back to your clit as he began pounding in and out of you.
“Oh God, Finnick!" Your eyebrows pulled together and eyes snapped shut as he filled you. It was like you were a perfect fit for each other.
“So perfect angel, just looking at you made me think I wasn't even gonna make it into you." Finnick groaned, he knew exactly what you liked, what pace to go. You'd been so used to faking it or them not caring at all, but with him he could get you there so fast, so hard, and could do it over and over so perfectly. His fingers rubbing into your bundle of nerves that had you biting into your bottom lip to stop you from waking the whole floor. Both actions made you want to scream in ecstacy. “Are you close already, angel? Do I really make you feel like that, so fast?” You nodded, dumbly making mindless noises as his hips thrusted in and out. “Me too. I don't know how you do it to me. Where do you want me, stomach, mouth, inside?" His groaning was making his own speech shaky.
“Inside please, need to feel it, Finnick."
“You sure?" He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as your moans from his skilled fingers working their magic as he kept moving inside of you made him even closer.
“Yes, yes, yes, need to be one, just you and me. Need it inside." He pinched the bundle of nerves lightly as he hit the spot inside of you that had you kicking your feet on sheets. “I'm gonna, oh I'm gonna-"
“I know, just wait a little bit longer, angel, I'm almost there. So close, be my good, good girl." You whined, nodding.
“Wanna be so good for you."
He nodded, the words bringing him even closer to the edge as he roughly thrusted into you. “You are, so good, just gotta hold back a little longer." You were sobbing, lost in the high as he wiped away the tears streaming down.
“Feels so good, Finnick, I can't please let me, need to."
“Wait." He said sternly, at this point he felt like he was denying himself too just to watch you squirm and listen to his every word. Grabbing your face softly so your eyes were trained on him, hand still rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Been such a good girl, don't ruin it." His hips started stuttering inside of you.
You shook your head, “I won't, I'm sorry. Wanna be good." He let go of your face with his free hand and pinched your nipple. “Finnick, please, I can't. Please don't be mean, I need you.”
"Making me feel so good, my love. Clenching around me, trying to hold back, you're such a good listener." He pinched your clit again, he was being mean, he couldn't deny it but the way you cried out and started trying to push away from him was bringing him straight to the edge. “Color?"
“Green." You choked out, “Please, Finnick, I can't." Your hands pushed against his chest.
"Then you know what to say, angel." He raised an eyebrow, “So you can." It would feel so much better, be so much harder for both of you the longer he kept this up. His lips attached to your breast and you tugged his hair, he moaned onto you and the vibrations had you desperately trying to fend off the orgasm approaching.
“Please, I need to. I know you are too." He thrust into that special spot in you again and your hands hit the sheets in frustration as your eyes fluttered.
“Be patient, don't be a brat." He pulled away from your breast to look at you. He pressed down on your clit and thrust into you again, “Oh god, gonna let go inside of you now, angel. Be all over your walls, gonna feel so good. Been such a good girl, you ready to let go of me."
“Yes, please!"
“You can let go, sweet girl." His lips pressed to yours to quiet both of you moans as you finally both let yourself go. You could've sworn the way his split inside you made your shaking even harder. It was so good, so worth it.
You were nearly breathless when you pulled away, “That was new."
“Are you okay?" He asked, eyes full of concern.
“Yeah, of course. I just, you're always incredible, I'm great.” You laughed breathlessly.
"Oh, good.” He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.
“Thank you."
“You don't have to thank me, angel."
“Yes I do, they've taken so much of both of us and you just bring so much of it back to just being so real, so it doesn't feel like they own it anymore."
“That's just being a decent human, I just want to take care of you. Through all the ups and downs." He was so kind, it made you ecstatic that for as long as either of you were alive you'd always be one with each other, bonded through everything you loved. “Come on, we have another long day tomorrow, let's get cleaned up."
“What if we just didn't go, just laid here together, until it passed."
“I'd love to." His eyes were earnest and like pools you could drown in, “Nothing I want more than being with you forever. But they'd drag us out and we have things to do, my love.” He helped lift you up from where you lay comfortably. Your nose scrunched up." What?”
You pulled apart your thighs, "So sticky.”
He laughed before he could stop himself, "Well I'm not the one who asked for it.” That smug, loveable ass.
"Shut up, you loved it.” Softly shoving his arms as you went to stand.
He raised his arms in defense, "Guilty as charged."
He was so perfect, the way he was so effortlessly funny, so compassionate for all your needs even if you didn't verbalize them, how patient he was yet so stern and guiding. Much too good for what you could give him, you'd go to hell and back to do half as much as he did for you. Of course he always assured you of all you did to help him, but it felt so miniscule compared to what he did for you. The things you would sacrifice to help him, to be by his side were unmatched.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
thank you so much for reading!! I haven't written smut in so long and this really isn't a smut heavy series but I felt like exploring how what snow did to the victors who were deemed to be desirable would effect their intimacy and sometimes a little spice is needed to deal with all the angst I write. if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs, anything and my ask box is already open if you have any questions or ideas! thank you all so much for reading 💋
taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery
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WHICH TROPE ARE YOU?
PAIRING: enhypen x gn!reader
SUMMARY: what trope do you and the enhypen members share?
WARNINGS: a smidge of angst in jungwon + heeseung’s, all set in high school apart from jay + heeseung’s, implied toxic parents in jungwon’s, written on my phone so the formatting might be weird
NOTE: thank u sm for all the love on my last post and 155 followers!! i rlly appreciate you guys 🫶🫶 also i’m definitely gonna rewrite some of these as actual fics bc i love them (looking at u jungwon and niki)
— HEESEUNG 희승 — second chance romance
personally i’m not a big fan of this trope but it just fits heeseung so well like ??? hello yes i would give u a second chance. there’s no doubt in my mind that cheating would not be involved, instead it was something that happened when you two were young and immature, but when you meet again you’ve grown and can continue to do so together
it had ended awfully the first time. neither of you were particularly mature, and a heated argument had caused your entire relationship had come crashing down. sixteen year old you would always regret the way you gave heeseung the cold shoulder for a reason you couldn’t even remember, and the way you had both yelled and screamed at each other. you hadn’t spoken for years when, all of a sudden, you bumped into him in a cafe. then at work. in the park. after six years of no contact, he was everywhere. it was like the universe was telling you to give him another chance. eventually, your walls crumbled, and heeseung made his way back into your heart. the two of you had never been happier.
others under the cut!
— JAY 제이 — fake dating
jay is perfect for this trope imo, especially when it comes to fake dating at a wedding. put me in a psych ward bc whenever i think abt him in a suit i go insane. also your whole family would love him because he’s such a gentleman. he’s so perfect
it was your aunts wedding, and all of your siblings were bringing their significant others as plus ones. your brother had joked about how you’d be the only single one in the wedding party and, rather than face the humiliation, you lied and told him you did in fact have a boyfriend. it was a lie you forgot about until two weeks before the wedding, when your aunt mentioned being excited to meet the mysterious man. you panicked, running to tell jay about your issue. while you were contemplating telling your family that the mysterious man had broken up with you, jay said “why don’t i pretend to be your boyfriend? just for the day?” except, his fake boyfriend touches didn’t feel very fake. your aunt remarked that the two of you reminded her of herself and your new uncle when they were young. by the end of the night, you and jay were sharing kisses outside the reception. yeah, fake boyfriend my ass.
— JAKE 제이크 — you fell first, he fell harder
jake seems like such a loser (affectionately) that he’d be the one to fall first, but just imagine that he doesn’t realise his feelings are romantic. he just thinks everyone sees their best friends that way and when he finds out otherwise? oh he’s head over heels in love with you. such a loser. i love him
the way you and jake interact is far from platonic. you had developed a crush on him when you were just fifteen, and since then you'd been trying to drop hints. when he started reciprocating your admittedly flirtatious gestures, you thought you had a chance, but he never made a move. in fact, jake never realised that he shared those feelings until one of his friends pointed out that the two of you were incredibly flirty with each other. he thought everyone saw their best friends as gorgeous, as an angel sent from above, as someone who they'd willingly spend the rest of their life with. after that it was hard for him to see you in any light other than romantic. when you asked him out he practically screamed yes. he is absolutely head over heels in love
— SUNGHOON 성훈 — opposites attract
i was gonna pick grumpy x sunshine for him but he’s not exactly grumpy so opposites attract it is!! he’s reserved and only really lets loose around those he considers close, whereas you’re loud and bubbly with lots of friends. one of my fav tropes for a reason
sunghoon’s attention was brought to you via your laughter. it was loud and bright, and he’d never heard anything like it. since then, he’d yearned for the sound. though he lacked the confidence to actually ask you out, he began seeking your company. he’d study with you in the library, would offer to walk you home. things that friends do. you, on the other hand, were absolutely smitten. sunghoon was quiet and a little mysterious. you could never read him, and yet you were absolutely entranced by him. you thought he was absolutely gorgeous, perhaps one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. one day, while sunghoon was walking you home in the rain, you’d stopped and turned to face him. “what are we?” you’d asked. sunghoon remembers blanking immediately, not knowing how to reply. instead of words, he answered you with a kiss.
— SUNOO 선우 — best friend’s brother
okay but imagine: you go over to ur best friends house and end up gossiping with their brother and all of a sudden,, he’s soooo attractive? and then he starts developing this crush but he can’t date you because you’re his siblings best friend. there’s probably be some secret dating involved (which i’m also a sucker for tbh)
you'd been harbouring a crush on sunoo for a while now, never acting on it because he was your best friend's brother. you looked forward to the weekly gossip sessions that the two of you shared when your friend left you together arguably more than you looked forward to seeing your friend (but don't tell her that). little did you know, sunoo felt the same. fleeting glances and not-so-platonic touches began growing between you two. eventually, sunoo asked you out. you wanted to say yes so badly but couldn't betray your friend like that. instead, you began dating in secret. it was only two months of sneaking around, 'jokingly' flirting, and kissing in places where she wouldn't see before she finally exploded, yelling that you two were gross but had her blessing. going public only increased the pda by tenfold, and people quickly grew sick of your sappy conversations. not that either of you cared, of course.
— JUNGWON 정원 — academic rivals turned lovers [full fic!]
ACADEMIC RIVALS TURNED LOVERS!!!!! i love this trope sm and i think it fits won so well. i was gonna originally give this to niki but he wasn’t rlly in school. so. jungwon it is!! i can see you two as the top two in your year and always competing when one day it all comes crashing down for you. jungwon is suddenly? nice? and we go from there 🤭🤭
yang jungwon had never been the nicest person to you. sure, he was never really mean per-se, but the two of you were so competitive that nothing said was particularly nice. you and jungwon seemed to constantly be on par with each other academically, consistently being the top two students in your year. in english and sciences, you usually pulled ahead, while jungwon excelled in maths and other subjects. the rivalry between you was so tense that even the teachers tried to calm it down but to no avail. the reason behind your competitiveness was your parents. the pressure they put on you was immense, and one day you just broke. you’d had a fight with them, and the next day flunked a biology test. your grades began slipping from then on, and jungwon began to take notice. he stopped making quips, instead resorting to leaving some snacks or study tips on your desk when he thought you weren’t looking. he began giving you sympathetic looks until you eventually confronted him, telling him you didn’t want his pity. it wasn’t pity, though, it was worry. your relationship changed after that, no longer rivals but a little more than friends.
— NI-KI 니키 — childhood friends to lovers/first love
OKAY HEAR ME OUT. u were childhood friends. niki realises his feelings and he’s all like oh no i can’t feel this way abt my bff :( and tried to pull away from u but ur like ??? yes tf and that’s how u become lovers
niki had been your closest friend for longer than you could remember. in both of your houses there sat baby pictures of the two of you together. you’d grown up together, going to all the same schools and most of the same clubs. in highschool, you were known as inseparable - if someone wanted one of you, they got both. but one day, niki started pulling away. it was fine, you told yourself, he was just growing up. you both were. but when he stopped answering your calls and texts and started actively avoiding you, you were hurt. you’d been by each others sides for so long that you didn’t really know how to live without him. the truth was, he’d discovered feelings that he’d never felt about anyone before. he knew he shouldn’t feel like this about his best friend, but he couldn’t help it. he was miserable without you, so much so that his friends were telling him to just ask you out. they told him that you definitely felt the same, so he took the leap. and thank god he did. you’re his first love, his everything.
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So I have this idea for a peter x reader. basically reader is really quiet and shes friends with Peter. anyway, she develops feeling for him but doubts that he'll ever feel the same and tries to hide it as much as possible. eventually when Peter tells her his feelings she laughs and thinks it's a joke like "how would u like me?" and Peter slows down sadly and is like "why would u think I'm joking?" and ends with just fluffy fluffy confessions and comfort <3
AN | Oh yes, one of my favorite tropes, aka Peter Parker confesses his love but you’re not buying it❤️
Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language
Word Count | 3k
Masterlist | Main | Peter
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
You’d known Peter Parker for the latter part of twenty years.
You’d known that you were in love with him for the last five years. You were pretty sure you’d been in love with him much longer than that, but realization hadn’t dawned on you just yet.
The revelation had come to you out of the blue one evening when you were at home in your shared apartment, the two of you watching a movie. He didn’t even really do anything special, it just hit as you listened to him comment on random scenes throughout the movie. You were in love with him.
But just as quickly as you had your breakthrough, you decided to push it to the side, compartmentalized to the back of your mind to decay there. You might have been helplessly in love with him, enamored and enraptured by him, but you would never tell him.
There was absolutely no way that Peter would ever return your feelings, not even remotely. No, nope, nah. You were his best friend, and that’s all you would ever be. That was your destiny, and while you hated it, you hated the idea of a life without Peter even more.
So, like some kind of self professed martyr, you decided to live with your secret.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Are you even paying attention?” you weren’t, not until Peter was waving his hand in front of your face, but he didn’t need to know that. You turned your attention back to him and gave him a tight lipped smile and even weaker nod. He laughed, sugar sweet and syrupy, “you’re lying!”
“Am not,” you huffed petulantly, poking around the food that was on your plate. Admittedly you’d lost your appetite and zoned out when Peter started talking about Kim from work and how she’d asked him out again. He insisted that he’d turned her down, again, but it didn’t cause that nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach to go away, “I couldn’t listen to another word out of your mouth, Parker. The sound alone could put me right to sleep.”
“Oh honey,” he took a sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair as he appraised you. You felt warm under his intent gaze, avoiding his eyes as you practically stared holes into the table, “we both know that’s not true.”
“How?” you snapped your gaze back to him, and found the most satisfied little smirk on his face.
“You wouldn’t have been friends with me for so long if you really thought that,” he leaned forward and shot you a wink, which caused you to almost melt into a puddle, “right?”
“You’re the worst,” there was nothing but an affectionate lilt in your words, “the absolute worst.”
“But you love me,” you knew it was meant as a friendly comment but you felt like your heart had just plummeted into your stomach. Did he know? He couldn’t know.
“Whatever,” you took the cloth napkin off your lap and tossed onto the table. You were out at a nice restaurant, both of you dressed to the nines; it would have been easy to assume you were a couple on a date. The waiter had made a comment about what a lovely couple you were, “hurry up so we can get out of here and get home.”
Home. As in your singular home. That’s right; not only were you a fool, you were an absolute fool. One that lived with her best friend that she was secretly in love with. It made things…interesting. But, if anything, it was a good exercise in futility.
“Pajamas and ice cream?” he asked, as if it was really any question. At least one night a week included a lazy night in watching movies in pajamas and lots of ice cream. You loved that you were able to enjoy such simple things, along with the finer things.
“Duh,” you teased, “now come on, before someone mistakes for a couple again.”
“Would that really be such a bad thing?” there was a look of genuine curiosity in his eyes that almost made you spill your deep, dark secret then and there.
“Yes,” you lied, biting the inside of your cheek, “the worst!”
Peter said nothing but you could feel him watching you. You were afraid that somehow he would learn all your deepest, darkest secrets.
You hoped he wouldn’t…you weren’t sure how you’d survive that.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
When you woke up the next morning, it was to something that smelled extremely delicious. You groaned as you rolled onto your back, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes, stomach gurgling loudly. You slipped out of bed and pulled on a discarded hoodie - it used to be Peter’s but was now yours - and socks as you padded out into the hallway.
Noise was coming from the kitchen and your brow furrowed as you walked towards the commotion. Peter’s bedroom door was open which meant that it was definitely him that was the source of all the commotion. Odd. He was usually not an early riser.
“Pete?” a large vase of daffodils, tulips, and daisies sat on the small kitchen table. Your favorites. The boy was in the kitchen, in a t-shirt and gray joggers (damn him), and moved around to make sure everything was ready at the same time, “what’s all this?”
“Hey babe,” the pet name flowed from his lips like it was a no brainer, like this was all so natural between the two of you. You supposed, in a way, it was, “I’m making breakfast.”
“I can see that,” you raised an eyebrow and gestured around, “what’s the occasion?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged lightly, “just wanted to do something nice for you.”
“Peter, that’s…really sweet,” yeah. You weren’t even going to attempt to deny that much, “it looks and smells delicious. And the flowers-”
“Also for you,” this time a sheepish expression crossed his features along with a pretty pink blush, “I just thought you deserved something nice.”
“Is there…it’s not my birthday,” you mused out loud, “it’s not a holiday. So…am I missing something?”
“No,” he considered you for a moment before swallowing thickly, “I just…let me do something nice without the whole interrogation thing!”
“You’re Spider-Man, you should be used to interrogations.”
“Not from you!”
“Well, consider it practice.”
“No, listen, I-” he groaned lightly, swiping a hand over his face, messing up his already roguish hair, “I-I-I-”
“You can’t get all flustered!” you teased, “can’t let the enemy know you’re weak!”
“I’m not-”
“Petey,” you laughed softly, enjoying the little back and forth banter, “I’m just teasing. No need to get so worked up. Look, I’m going to go-”
“I’m in love with you.”
“And shower before breakfast,” the two of you spoke at the same time, but you heard each other loud and clear. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, feeling the heat rise up in your cheeks, flustered and wanting to disappear, “w-why would you say that?”
“What?” he looked confused. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, “what do you mean?”
“I was just teasing you, but you don’t have to be cruel,” you felt tears already welling up as your lip trembled with effort to keep from crying, “why would you be so mean?”
“How? I don’t…what?”
“Why would you tease me and say you loved me?” despite your best efforts the tears had welled up and rolled down your face, “I was just messing around, but that’s…hurtful.”
“Wait - what do you mean?” a look of pure panic crossed his features as he shook his head, “why would I just say that? I would never say something like that if I didn’t mean it. Honey-”
“You don’t love me,” you threw up your hands in exasperation, “not like that. You’re my best friend!”
“You’re my best friend too,” he took a step closer and you took one back, “and I do love you as you my best, but you’re so much more than that. I’m in love with you.”
“You’re lying,” you insisted, unable to wrap your head around the fact that he might be telling the truth, “why would you be in love with me? I’m just…me.”
“That’s why I’m in love with you!” he wasn’t sure what your reaction was going to be, but he wasn’t fully expecting this one, “I’ve been in love with you for years! Have you really never noticed?”
“You’re just being a good friend,” were asking him or telling him? You weren’t entirely sure, “you don’t love me! You could never love me. I’m nothing.”
“You’re everything,” but you weren’t listening to him anymore. You were shaking your head, absentmindedly brushing your tears out of your face as you stumbled towards your bedroom.
“No, please just stop,” you insisted. You ducked into your bedroom and slammed the door shut before locking it. Realistically, if he really wanted to get in it would have been a breeze for him.
He called your name a few more times before you heard his retreating footsteps go back to the kitchen. All you could think to do was to climb into bed and get under the covers. Dealing with anything - what he had said and what you had said - seemed like the last thing you wanted to think about.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
At some point you woke up from the stress and sadness nap you had taken and found that the sun was shining brightly into the room. You looked at your phone with a groan when you saw that it was the middle of the afternoon.
Hesitantly you dragged yourself out of bed, again, and slinked towards the door, sticking your ear to it and listening for any signs of life, also known as Peter Benjamin Parker. This would be one of the times it would have been handy to have his enhanced senses, but even with your regular old human abilities, you were sure he wasn’t home.
With a sigh of relief you opened the door and walked back into the crime scene; the kitchen looked exactly as it had when you’d found Peter in it earlier. He must have left to give you space after your little - okay big - freak out. He’d always been good with boundaries and giving you space when needed.
Part of you almost wished he was here. The flowers on the table were almost taunting you, and you walked over to them, gently touching over their petals. Of course he knew your favorite flowers, he got them for you…kind of a lot now that you were thinking about it. He knew you inside out, better than anyone else, and sometimes you were convinced that he knew you better than you knew yourself.
You stepped into the kitchen and started to clean things up, putting dishes in the sink and other stuff away. The thought that Peter had touched each and everyone of these things provided a sense of relief.
Peter often did these sorts of things. He doted on you, you would absolutely admit this, but you’d always chalked it up to his friendly nature. But then…he wasn’t like this with his other friends. He was openly affectionate, yes, but with you it was different. You thought about the fact that he never went on dates with anyone - he would always turn them down, including Kim from work. The few times you’d gone on a date he always seemed upset, even if he tried to suggest otherwise. Huh.
People often asked if the two of you were dating, but you always gave them the same answer: platonic friends with a capital P. It sucked sometimes, especially when you knew that women, and men, practically threw themselves at Peter.
You thought back on all the things he did for you, all the days, nights, and weekends you’d spent together through the years and oh. Oh.
“Oh,” you whispered the singular word out loud to yourself, halfway through washing a plate when it hit you.
Peter hadn’t been lying; he was telling you the truth. The truth had been so obvious and right in front of you the entire time.
You wanted to curl up and vanish. Not only had you accused him of lying and only loving you as a friend, you’d run out on him and refused to talk to him like a stubborn child. All you could do was hope that you hadn’t ruined everything.
When you were finished cleaning up the mess from earlier, you made a mental plan. Maybe he wouldn’t believe you or forgive you, but it was worth a shot like a sort of romantic hail mary.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Peter spent the better part of the day out of the apartment, opting to go and work in his office. His mind was reeling and the only way he could think to get it to quiet down was to throw himself into his work. He hoped that by the time he got home you would be willing to talk to him, or at the very least you wouldn’t run from him.
Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting you to be in the kitchen making dinner as you sang along to whatever record you threw on the vintage player. You’d gifted it to him a few years ago on his birthday after you’d seen him eyeing it about a hundred times. It was just one of the many ways you showed him love. He’d fallen even more in love that day.
“Hello?” he asked timidly as he kicked off his sneakers by the door. On the table next to the flowers he’d gotten for you, was another vase, this one filled with daisies and sunflowers; his favorites…because they reminded him of you.
At the sound of his voice you slowly turned around, bracing yourself for about a million different possibilities.
“Hi Pete,” you held up your hands in a meek little wave, feeling your flush furiously, “listen-”
“I’m sorry,” the two of you said at the same time.
“W-wait,” a pretty pout settled on your lips. He wanted to kiss you until it went away and was replaced with a smile, “what are you sorry for?”
“For making you uncomfortable,” he shrugged nervously, “I didn’t think what I said would come across so…like it did. I thought you knew, or at least kind of knew, how I felt. I thought maybe you felt the same and it was finally time to tell you. That didn’t land well obviously.”
“Peter,” whenever you said his name like that it made him want to melt into a puddle.
There were a million things you wanted to say, but couldn’t think of anything. Nothing seemed quite adequate or strong enough to convey the amount of love you held for the man in front of you.
You walked the few remaining steps over and stopped right in front of him, both of you staring at each other intensely.
You reached up to touch his face, your hand resting on his cheek. You leaned up and closed the little bit of remaining distance, pressing your lips against his. It only took a moment for his brain to catch up to what was happening, and when he did, his hands settled on your waist, and pulled you ever closer into his body.
Kissing Peter left so natural, so right, like you’d been doing it forever. There was no learning curve - the two of you already know each other so well - no awkward fumbling or misses. It just…was.
And kissing him was addicting. Now that you knew what it was like, you never wanted to stop. You wanted him all over you, all the time, forever.
But eventually you needed a breath of air and reluctantly pulled apart. You found him watching you like you were the most wonderful thing he had ever seen (you were).
“I’ve been in love with you for a very, very long time,” you admitted softly, causing his eyes to lit up, “I just never thought…you’ve always been my best friend and I was convinced you’d never want more. So I never said anything.”
“I’ve always wanted more - I want everything,” he took your face in his hands, cradling it delicately as he studied, “it’s always been you.”
“I thought that I was just me, and I’d never be good enough for you. And then I thought maybe you found out how I felt and you were teasing me,” it seemed really silly saying it out loud.
“I would never do that,” you knew he wouldn’t. Your own self doubt had you convinced of all the wrong things, “I meant it all. I’ve always meant it.”
“I thought about it while you were gone,” it was a soft confession that had you giving him a shy smile, “and I realized it was always so obvious.”
“It’s been terribly obvious,” he agreed as you exchanged soft laughs.
“Terribly,” you agreed, “will you forgive me for how I acted earlier?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he insisted, sweet and saccharine, “can I kiss you more?”
“I would-”
Before you could finish what you were saying, you smelt something burning and turned around to find your pain on fire. You panicked while Peter fell into action, taking the pan off and setting it in the sink before getting the fire out. It was just one of the many ways in which you complimented each other perfectly.
“Anyway, you were saying?” He had the biggest, silliest smile on his face as the kitchen filled with the smell of burnt food. You couldn’t help but break into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of it all...and then the smoke alarm went off.
“You can kiss me anytime,” you finally got to say what you had wanted to, shouting slightly over the alarm before the two of you dissolved into laughter, “I love you, Peter Parker. Really.”
“I really love you, honey bee.”
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You Hurt Me Pt 4 - LN
The Happy Ending
Summary: Lando is going to keep y/n in his life and nothing can stop him.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Lando and y/n didn’t take long to become inseparable and after admittedly after a pregnancy scare that Lando saw as an exciting thought while y/n nearly cried at the idea of being pregnant, Lando decided that he needed to stop wasting time with her.
He already wasted a year without her because of his own mess up. And while a child might be more than a 22 and 23 year old can actually handle, though he did try to argue otherwise, he’s got something else up his sleeve for it.
“So you’re really doing this?” Max sighs as they stand in the store and Lando pays.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“No. I just didn’t think you’d actually follow through with it when you mentioned it the other day.” Max smiles with a shrug before they take the bag and head out. “You act quickly.”
“I don’t want to risk anything going wrong. For once I actually need to be organised. I can’t fuck this up.” Lando stresses earning a gentle pat on the back.
“Then let’s get moving.” Max states ready to help this day go off without a hitch. “Where is she now?”
“Take a wild guess?” Lando grins while Max sighs.
“You sent her shopping?”
“I had to send her shopping for some things for me to make sure we didn’t cross paths.”
-
Lando intending to propose after the last race of the season, with them being in Abu Dhabi, he’s making sure both their families are there, the quadrant team are there ready to capture every angle of this moment. The McLaren team know about it all and are just beyond excited to be part of it.
The outcome of the race hardly even matters, though Lando would love a podium or finally a win. Ultimately he knows that after the race is where the best part of his weekend is going to be.
“How are you feeling?” Y/n asks sitting in Lando’s driver room.
“I’m good, sad that the end of the season is here but there’s always next year.” Lando smiles with a shrug then moving towards her while she sits up on the physio bench, pulling her forward to the edge of the bench so she’s flush against him. “Plus I have some plans of us through the break.”
“Oh really?”
“Oh yeah, more pregnancy scares.” Lando jokes while she tsks and swats his arm.
“Behave.”
Lando doesn’t hide his cheeky grin, instead closing the space between them and kissing her a few times before Lando’s called for.
“I’ll get myself to the garage.” Y/n states while he nods helping her get down. “I love you. I’ll be proud whatever the outcome and I can’t wait to see you out there.”
He watches her rush out before following closely but heading off to the starting grid for the national anthem.
Once Lando is in his car he does get into the correct, race-focused mindset.
The race starts and so begins the 58 lap very dramatic race, over takes, a safety car after a three car collision in the midfield. But eventually Lando finishes P2.
And the moment he’s out the car he rushes to find y/n, kissing her multiple times.
“Alright, you have to celebrate with everyone else.” Y/n laughs gently pushing him back.
Lando moves but only to give Max and the McLaren team the signal since they wanted to make sure he didn’t lose his nerve and want to back out, they needed him to give a signal to reassure them that this is happening.
He goes to the cool down room knowing that y/n is probably being moved from the crowd beneath the podium and is very much confused as to why people aren’t letting her see him get his trophy.
The trophy presentation goes on and they follow through with the usual protocol before Max and Oscar step off (idk if that will be the podium but lets just go with it), Oscar is aware of the plans while Max is incredibly confused. Looking just as lost as y/n as she’s forced onto the podium stage by the Quadrant team.
“Lando…What the hell is happening?” Y/n hisses while Lando just takes her hand to pull her front and centre. “Lando, please tell me this is not what I think it is.”
Lando getting down on one knee while she burns red, tears glossing her eyes.
“Y/n, you are the best thing in my life. Above F1. So, I wanted to prove that by bringing you up here and…asking you, if you’d do me the honour of being my wife?” Lando asks pulling the ring out that he’d been handed before the cool down room and opening the box.
Her voice almost fails her before she kneels down with him, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“Yes. Please.” Y/n nods kissing him several times as her hands cup his face while he manages to take the ring from the box and pry her left hand from his face to put the ring on.
He pulls her up since they’d dropped out of sight of the crowd below who were watching in confusion and curiosity.
“She said yes!” He shouts down to their families while pulling her close into hug as she tries to hide herself, not one for so much attention especially when she’s been crying. But Lando is much more one for grand gestures.
The cheers that erupt practically make the floor shake while Max leads the quadrant team into tackling the two in a mass hug.
-
“You’re such an idiot.” Y/n laughs as Lando tries to paint her face mask onto her. “By the way. I think you’ve cut our lives slightly shorter with that choice of proposal. The stress of that experience definitely took a couple years off my life.”
“Shut up.” Lando grins shaking his hand before finishing the face mask and dumping the tool in the sink to take hold of her hand and admire the ring. “You look good with a ring on that finger by the way.”
“I’m sure my second husband will agree.” Y/n jokes while Lando fake laughs before poking her side to tickle her. “I’m just kidding, I’m far too excited to spend my life with you.”
“Promise to never remarry if I die in some tragic accident?”
“Not very comforting given your increased odds with your career.” Y/n murmurs before sighing. “I couldn’t even move on when I did everything in my power to finally be away from you, I couldn’t do it.”
“And I have never been so grateful for you to have a weakness like that, especially when it was the exact same for me.”
“Alright, your turn for the mask.”
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ᕼᑌᔕK ᗩᑎᗪ ᑎIᖴᖴTY ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ
Deadbeat father with his baby-leashed daughter.
I believe these are the last of the designs that will try to follow the original design as best as it can because looking at my sketches right now, Alastor, Cherri Bomb, and Pentious (and Crymini) goes a different direction than their counterparts.
You know how this works, thoughts below:
My issues with their Original designs:
Niffty:
Man, I only have two things to critique about this one since she's also a solid design:
What is the purpose of the scarf? It comes out of nowhere for the design, what is the connection/purpose of having it? Genuinely asking since it does bother me a bit.
She barely is a bug, there is no feature in the design that gives us any idea that she might be a bug (Or even an alien since apparently Cyclops are just a normal sinner type in this hell). Looking at the Wiki, I think the only reason for the alien aspect is that it came from a song? Either way, she doesn't showcase any of either in her design.
Husk:
GOD THE WINGS. DEAR GOD THE WINGS. IT'S SO UGLY AND CLUTTERED AND THE PATTERNS BARELY MAKE ANY SENSE. It's so awful ewwww. Every scene that didn't have them closed looked extremely rushed and ugly. It could've benefitted from just copying how actual feathered wing patterns naturally are.
His eyebrows are not a problem for me (It's my favourite part of him) but the unnecessary two black stripes are.
He's probably supposed to be a tuxedo cat, but he legitamately looks like the cat in the hat with his entire face being white.
The thought process for these two:
Niffty:
Personally was not into the whole Cyclops thing, especially when there are no hellborns (that I can recall at least) in Helluva Boss that posess a singular eye. She's got 2 eyes now because.... reasons.
The mismatched eyes was my solution to removing the Cyclops sinners of this world. Plus it's a neat little character detail that her insecurity of some kind of eye defect manifests as this odd eye shape.
Her hair is a bit neater because as much as I enjoyed how her original hair looks, It's kind of silly to think a person who's obsessed with cleanliness would have such an unkempt haircut? (Specifically talking about that scene kid-esque bangs she has.)
While I kept the maid aspect with her clothes, I made it a lot more flowery so that it reads more like a child's outfit mimicing a maid's.
I gave her one fucked up antennae since in the rewrite ill be doing, she's very easily lost and thus became homeless, drifting to any place that would allow her to stay for a little while long until they kick her out.
Bug wings and the spurs on her arms and legs are just to sell the bug aspect a bit more.
Hopefully, it was clear enough. But her arms are made of two arms conjoined together to create a singular arm.
Admittedly, I did not choose a specific bug for Niffty. Insects are not something I'm interested in and I got lazy with this aspect.
Husk:
MADE HIM A LOT FATTER AHAHAHAHHA. Husk feels like he could've ended up as a bara if Vivzie's twinkif-y ray didn't hit him.
Specific fluff areas as well as a red mustache make him look older and do more to make you understand he's much more aged than the rest of the cast.
Genuinely enjoyed the hair that they gave Husk in his flashback, it looked handsome on him. Why Vivzie didn't put that in his actual redesign is beyond me, but here it is on him now
Since his wings barely play any role in the story, I shrunk it and de-cluttered the poor thing.
The red suspenders are there to simply put a pop of color on his already muted colors.
Despite the running joke that Vivzie's characters all have a bowtie, kept it on Husk since I think it would be cute that he probably keeps it on because Niffty made it herself for him.
This is just personal, but I wanted to give him an actual cat's pattern because I saw Husk from the headcanon voices video and thought that he was a sloth for some reason.
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am i the asshole for yelling at my friend when i found out he had sex in my car?
i (26f) lived with my friend John (26m) when we were in college. John didnt have a car, but i did so i did most of the driving when we needed groceries/whatever we needed to go out for (it was a college town so it was mostly walkable, so we didnt need to drive every day). i have issues with other people using my car, especially when im not there (if anything goes wrong id rather it be my fault than have to deal with someone else totaling my car). but John had a girlfriend (Sarah) who also didnt have a car, so he would sometimes borrow my car (with my permission ofc, he never took it without me knowing) to take her on dates. when they were gone, i would constantly be nervous that something went wrong. there would be times they would go to a movie, then they would be gone for longer than the movie's runtime and i would get so anxious that something happened, then find out that they had just gone shopping/to dinner/etc after the movie ended. i never bothered saying anything because i didnt want to seem like a control freak saying "you can only borrow my car if you tell me exactly what you're doing and when you'll be back"
anyways, fast forward to now. i got a new car a couple years ago, John and i no longer live together (not because of any problems, we just got our own places after we graduated), and he is still with Sarah. one day John, Sarah, a few of our other friends, and i were all hanging out.
then at one point, Sarah made a joke about having sex in the car after Yesterday (the beatles movie from a few years ago). then i said "hold on, didnt you guys borrow my car to see that movie?" and everyone got really quiet. i turned to John and said "you had sex in my car???" and he tried to laugh it off but didnt deny it. and i got MAD. i was yelling at him and admittedly was pretty harsh (like calling him insensitive for violating my trust & property)
he said something along the lines of "i'm sorry, but it was a long time ago and theres nothing i can do to change it, and you dont even have the car anymore" and i realized he was right, and that screaming at him wasnt going to accomplish anything, but i was still mad so i left and went home
i asked some of my friends that were there if i was being crazy, and they basically said that it was understandable that i was mad, but yelling at him in front of everyone just made them uncomfortable and killed the vibe for the rest of the night, and there was nothing any of us could do about it now. no one told me how Sarah reacted, but she has really bad anxiety so knowing her, im guessing she didnt take it well that i got mad about something she said, and i do feel bad about that (though, in fairness, i assume she knows common decency and would know that having sex in someone else's car is wrong)
anyways, i dont think im the asshole because i think i have a right to be upset about that, and even though it was a long time ago i JUST found out about it so it wasnt that long ago for me. but i know i might be the asshole just because i yelled at John in front of our friends and made everyone uncomfortable over something that he can't do anything about anymore, and since i dont even have that car anymore, it has no impact on my life
tldr: my friend had sex in my car years ago and i found out about it and tried to fight with him about it in front of a bunch of our other friends, and it made everyone uncomfortable. so, am i the asshole for getting angry years after my friend had sex in my car? 🚗
What are these acronyms?
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