#the return of the windbreaker

[calpicowater]

Week 19.75/52: May 9th - May 15th 2022 | Desserts with Charmy! 🍩

WOW!!!!!! HANGING OUT WITH CHARMY???? POST COVID???? OMG it’s literally our big epic reunion after not seeing each other for almost 3 years!!!!! So exciting. Too bad the weather was shit though. Was pouring like crazy the whole day which made commuting so much harder lol. My clothes and shoes were all soaked... Our first stop was donuts at Mello! I got their lemon curd and matcha filled donuts. They were so delicious I literally INHALED them both. The filling and donut itself was not too sweet at all and the they were covered in sugar. So yums! Afterwards, we went to Cheaty Food Bar for some bubble tea (cold) hot pot/desserts. We got mango sago “soup base” with purple yams, taro balls, and muscat grapes. It’s kind of rip off LMAO that tiny amount of food for almost $20 but pretty yum and pretty regardless. Nice for photos but probably won’t return so RIP. Was so full off of liquids by the end of the day hahahahaha. 

Super nice catchup with high school bestie! 😄

#365 #52 #ootd #dessert #donut #bubble tea hot pot #lionheart windbreaker #uniqlo black jeans #vans old skool #black hoodie #kanken mini #suddenly got excited for the fact i might be able to go to charmy's convocation plus grad ball wtf??? #i was like holy shit i wanna go to ur grad hello ?????? been manifesting since 2018 tbh #and the ball i was like 'can i wear a long dress' and she's like YES #haahahahaha #idk how im gonna get myself to waterloo cus i am literally in victoria until the day before her convo #idk if it will work hahaha we will see #im too spontaneous in 2022 what is happening #btw this is my last post on this blog before i leave for calgary + victoria for 5 weeks straight #blog is going to be dead for at least 2 weeks hahahahaa but i will return like i always do #32/52 outfits

[ddejavvu]

Reader commenting on Spencer’s hands being cold, and he starts excitedly rambling about the best ways to heat them up, like putting them under armpits. Only to get completely thrown back when she stuffs his hands in her under boob to keep them nice and warm and strong :) <3

Your eyes are drawn to Spencer's hands when he starts curling them into fists, rapidly clenching and unclenching them in the chilly Chicago air. You're sitting cross-legged on the stoop of a witness's home, waiting for JJ to return from questioning her. She'd been uneasy with such a heavy government presence in her home, and you don't blame her for it, so you'd elected to stay outside with Reid.

"Cold, Spence?" You ask, and he nods sheepishly, his curls flying.

"I'm trying to get circulation back to my fingers," He explains, shaking his hands out for a brief second before curling them again, "Moving your fingers gets your blood flowing, but there's only so warm I can get in 30-degree weather."

You smile sympathetically at him, watching as his nails dig into his palms once more with a curl of his fingers, "Maybe we can bribe JJ to get us coffee on the way back to the precinct."

"They never give me the sugar I ask for," Spencer laments, shaking out his fingers once more, "I think they think I'm trying to steal their supply, but I really just like having eight packets in one cup."

The snort that you let out releases a puff of visible breath into the cold morning air. As it dissipates Spencer tries breathing into his hands, but his skin is still pale, nail beds dangerously close to turning purple, and you sigh resignedly.

"Come here, Spence," You hold your hands out, and he looks curiously up at you. His head tilts just barely to the side, and you're reminded of a confused puppy.

"Give me your hands," You urge, emphasizing the way that you're holding yours out. He does so without question, but you can tell that you've certainly improved circulation to his face, because his cheeks are blazing hot with a rosy blush when he obeys.

"Body heat really helps," You promise, unzipping the fabric of your FBI windbreaker. You hold both of Spencer's hands in your free hand now, but when your jacket is properly unzipped you lead his hands straight to your torso. They're posed on your ribcage, and Spencer stills, watching the way that they touch you with wide eyes.

"Under- there," You slip his hands up an inch, letting them slip into the space beneath your bra, your skin flushed with natural heat that soaks into Spencer's veins like sunlight to a wilting plant. Contrary to the body heat now flooding his limbs he's frozen, eyes wide and jaw slack as you stuff his hands beneath your chest.

"That better?" You ask, shimmying slightly in place and jostling his hands. Your bra slips further over the backs of his hands and only makes them warmer, enveloping him in even more of your body heat. He gulps, you actually see his throat bob, and nods silently, still leaned forwards to take in more of your warmth.

"Thanks," He breathes, trying very hard, and failing very miserably, to pretend like he's not about to combust.

You're almost certain that his hands are barely thawed at all when JJ steps abruptly out of the front doors of the building, and her boots skid to a stop in front of you and Spencer. You glance up at her with a warm smile, but Spencer yanks his hands away, wringing them out in his lap with wide eyes.

"Uh, she was- we were just... my hands-" Spencer babbles, and the more he struggles, the more her smirk grows over her face.

"His hands were cold," You explain, reaching out to grab them once more and squeezing the barely-tepid skin, "Let's hurry and get into the car, we can turn the heat on full blast."

You've seen Spencer exhibit a mild jog while chasing unsubs, his gun held at his side like it's a bag of bricks, but he skitters to the SUV faster than you've ever seen him move, leaving you and JJ behind on the steps of the apartment building.

"So, did he put his hands there, or did you?" JJ asks, and you don't need to see her face; you know from the mirth in her voice that she's still smirking as you stand up.

"I did," You grunt, trying very hard, and failing very miserably, to pretend like you're not about to combust, "He was shivering, JJ. What was I supposed to do, let him freeze to death?"

"No, no," She raises her hands in a gesture of surrender but her voice still contains that sadistic amusement, "You're right. A word of advice, though: next time, stick his hands between your thighs. It's a lot warmer down there."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) part 1

-

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home). 

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep). 

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that. 

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite. 

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back. 

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket. 

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle. 

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed. 

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth. 

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle. 

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him. 

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor. 

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue. 

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later. 

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes. 

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind. 

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself. 

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away. 

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave. 

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder. 

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction. 

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that. 

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

#99% chance im gonna edit this to fuck before i post it on ao3 because im trying to properly balance the pov switch #also its not done yet #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader

[essentiallyleaf]

day 24. car sex. with. ningning.

1286 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, car sex, Z O O M I N, deepthroating, semi-public sex, a bit of classic existential dread.

notes.

it is so fucking late i gotta go. speedily, leaf.

It’s at times like these that you want to treasure the most precious resource you have. The sun just sank down the horizon of Alpha-Earth, giving the sky this vibrant, electric aura, from the golden and pastel blue West to the indigo East. Hundreds of headlights leave long trails of yellowish white and rusty red all along the highway, almost as if the lines were already there, and the cars just following their predetermined paths. Your right foot pushes down, getting closer and closer to the asphalt. They can call you old-fashioned, but you love the growl of the rear combustion engine, the sound of rubber on tarmac. Time. They say it gets slower as you approach light speed, you’re far from it, but it’s almost like the clock’s hands move slower as the speedometer needle reaches new peaks. Nothing feels as close to God as this. The car takes a life of its own, and you wish you could simply close your eyes and, feel. The thrill you get when you’re on top of a tall building, and part of you wants to take a step. Those are also just passing moments, you think as you lift and return to cruise speed.

Ningning is beside you like she, sometimes is. Her hand falls on your pants-clad dick and starts rubbing like it does almost every single one of those times; the other times you’re already naked. Not the first time this happens in the car, even at high speed, so you simply turn auto-pilot on (they forced everyone to install it even on cars built before 2035) and let your head fall back in pleasure as she reaches inside your underwear to caress your bare length. Your right hand naturally goes to her almost naked back, needing to feel her skin under your finger pads.

She doesn’t dress to impress; sometimes she doesn’t dress at all. And the navy skintight rags she’s wearing today, well, those almost qualify as the latter. You’re in your usual attire, combat boots, cargo pants, the ones that tighten at the ankle, a close-fitting long sleeve shirt and a windbreaker. She needs your help to lower your pants and underwear, then goes back to stroking your cock, spitting on it for lubrication and reaching down to fondle your scrotum from time to time, causing you to moan up towards the roof of the car.

“Mmmh- Ning?”

“Huh?”

“Mind speeding the process up a little?”

Ningning likes to take her time, you learned that long ago. To make you look at her as she pulls the little lever on the side of your seat to move it backwards, positions herself between your legs, and stamps one long wet kiss on your tip. Or to observe people strolling at the night market, mothers buying their sons balloons, couples eating tanghulu (“You can tell if they’re good kissers just by looking at that” “Want to try with me?” “There’s a more hands-on way”; that was your first shared kiss, and it was more than just hands, on one another’s bodies after that). Right now her blue-tinted eyes are on yours, as her mouth surrounds more and more of your cock and she starts to feel her eyes watering and her lungs lacking air. She resists for almost fifty seconds this time - a good one, though not in her top five - drawing more than a groan from you before she has to back out and seek for oxygen.

“Are you okay?” She nods quickly, her hands cleaning up some of the drool that has accumulated on the sides of her mouth. “I need you right now, Ning.”

Ningning smiles and snorts lightly like she has you in the palm of her hand, and at the same time she has to concede this one to you. You stare at her open-mouthed as she somehow rids herself of her clothes, revealing her supple breasts and thick outer lips to you, and only thanks to your tinted windows not to any car around yours. She straddles your lap and wraps her arms around your neck to kiss you deeply while you grab onto one of her plump thighs with one hand and align your shaft with her already wet slit with the other. Her eyes are finally closed as she focuses on the feeling of your tip swiping up and down her vulva, brushing on her clit at every passage.

She’d been looking outside for almost all the trip, scrutinizing every detail of the gray and neon skyline of Nu-Seoul. Ningning has always had her own, unique wide-angle lens on the world. She has a little plant shelf right below her window in her apartment. It’s in one of those old, gray, samey buildings they were plopping one next to the other back when a growing world population wasn’t just a myth; the place is small and the plaster falling apart. One day she was sitting in front of the window, staring at the new little blossoms on the orchid, or at the bland, shiny neons on the skyscraper behind it, you couldn't really tell.

“Do you ever feel like the world is moving too fast for you?” She asked, sounding dispirited.

“I try to stay on pace”

“I feel… impotent. Like there’s nothing I can do, to change it”

“Do you think it’s on you to change it?”

“I think it’s on me to try.” She turns her gaze towards you, you let out a little sigh.

“When it’s just the two of us,” You sit beside her and wrap your arm around her back. “We can make what we want of our time. Make it speed up, slow down… It’s just ours. No one will ever take that away from us”

What you’re making of it now is pumping your dick in and out of her pussy while gripping onto her full asscheeks while she whimpers in your mouth at the sensation of her hole being stretched. She loves that feeling like she loves the feeling of wet grass on her feet when it’s raining, though meadows are but a distant memory in a city eaten by cement and desolation. Her soft, tight walls squeezing you in a humid embrace. You were wrong; this is what makes you feel like you’re touching the Infinite, reaching Eternity. Ningning moaning in bliss on your lips, on the crook of your neck, on the headrest of the driver’s seat. Her hands not finding rest, switching between your pecs, your jaw, your hips, and her own heat, digits circling at frenzied pace on her clit. You speed your thrusts up, time slows down. It’s a race ending in a photo finish; you can see the end, it’s close for both parties, but you never seem to reach it. Take a look at her pleasured state, savor the moment. Savor her tits as well, feast on them, then slap her ass once, twice. She wasn’t expecting it, her instinctive reaction is to drag her pelvis forwards towards you, giving you a different angle to attack. Exploit that to hit every crevice, every little patch you weren’t able to before, and as she contracts around you in one long, then multiple short and rhythmic flexes of her lower abdomen, each accompanied by a scream that fills the entire cockpit, you have your own release. Spill cups and cups of milky substance into her womb, every spurt coinciding with an upwards thrust and a small bite on her shoulder, as you continuously groan in complete bliss. Then it’s silence, a second, or an eternity, it doesn’t matter anymore, before she talks again.

“Back seat for round two? I want it from behind”

-

footnotes.

now i can’t unsee the asthma periods. you cursed me @erospandemos. gaspingly, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #aespa #ningning #aespa ningning #aespa smut #ningning smut #aespa ningning smut

[wheels-of-despair]

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later. Contains: Uncle Wayne, shopping, time-jumping, snuggles, a little bit of Eddie and Evil Woman's early days. Words: 1.3k

The best $7 Eddie Munson ever spent was at a thrift store just outside of Hawkins, Indiana, in the fall of 1983.

But he didn't know it until a year later.

The night before his Uncle Wayne disappeared for Thanksgiving - the man had worked overtime on every holiday he could, since he'd determined that Eddie could take care of himself - he slapped $40 on the kitchen table between their TV dinners.

"Wha'sis for?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of noodles.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Eddie swallowed and repeated, "What's this for?"

"Sales everywhere on Friday. Go get yourself a new coat, it's supposed to be a bad winter. And a pair of gloves that still has the damn fingers in them. Looks like I'm raisin' a hobo."

"Does not," Eddie mumbled as he swirled his fork around the pasta in his bowl. He liked his old coat… even though it was faded. And coming apart at the seams in a few places. And the cuffs were so frayed, every time he tried putting it on, his fingers got caught in the threads. And there was that hole from when he'd gotten caught on a chain-link fence during a high-speed getaway. But he'd patched it! And the gloves he'd cut the fingers out of were cool!

Wayne looked up from the piece of bread he was buttering to give his nephew a pointed stare.

"Fine," Eddie gave in. "Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah." The old man's eyes twinkled as he waved off his nephew's thanks and took another bite.

Being a practical and frugal-minded teen, Eddie started the search for a coat at his favorite thrift store.

"Hey, kid," greeted George, the store's owner, who barely looked up from the battered Tupperware he was sticking price tags on. "Just got a pile of 8-tracks, haven't even priced 'em yet, you interested?"

"Business before pleasure," Eddie grinned at the gray-haired man. "I come seeking winter-wear."

"Winter-wear, huh? Good call. Heard it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle said, too," Eddie nodded.

"Check the back wall, might be somethin' back there that'll fit ya."

"Thanks!" Eddie carefully treaded through the crowded aisles of discarded treasures and found the wall of outerwear. He flipped through cheap plastic hangers holding neon windbreakers, matted fake fur, and load of crunchy raincoats that reeked of cheaper cigarettes than his. And then… he found it.

It was long, and black, and it was way too big for him.

But when he put it on and turned around, it swished around his calves and made him feel like a vampire in a cloak.

Eddie walked to the grubby mirror leaned up against the wall and checked himself out. It was whole. Almost new, even. It was warm, and he could easily fit it on over the lighter leather jacket and battle vest he wore year-round. He lifted his arms out, and the fabric rippled to his sides. He reached for the edges and pulled them away from his body, holding them out to see just how big the coat was.

It made him look like a bat.

He lifted the paper price tag attached to a button-hole by a string.

$10? Sold.

He twirled in the mirror, watching the fabric rustle and sway around him like a creature of the night. He held up an arm to cover his mouth, like he was hiding his fangs. Yep. This is it. This is the one.

He took it off and draped it over his shoulder, deciding to see if any cool t-shirts had arrived since last he'd looked. He sorted through the rack quickly. Nothing new, but you can't win 'em all.

Eddie returned to the front with the coat, and George laughed when he spotted it. "Kid, I could fit five of you in that thing."

"I like it," Eddie grinned. "It's roomy. How 'bout those 8-tracks?"

George heaved the box full of newly acquired 8-tracks onto the counter so Eddie could dig through them. It was mostly show tunes and Christmas music, but he enjoyed the hunt nonetheless.

"Nothin'?" George asked when Eddie looked up.

Eddie shook his head. "A Partridge Family Christmas isn't really my style."

George laughed and scribbled ".50 each" on the flap of the cardboard box. "Will you find a spot for that in the front window?"

"Yessir." Eddie picked up the hefty box and walked it to the front of the store. He moved some creepy dolls and nudged a red tricycle aside to make room, placed the box down with the price facing the window, and returned to the counter.

"Just the coat, then?"

"Yessir."

"$7."

"$7?" Doesn't the tag say $10?

"That thing takes up too much room. I can fit four more in its place."

Eddie grinned and passed his cash to the man behind the counter.

"I'd ask if you want a bag, but I don't think I have any I could fit that monstrosity in," George teased as he handed Eddie his change.

"Thanks, George," Eddie laughed and collected his coat. "See ya soon."

"Stay warm, kid."

The morning Wayne came home from his long and tiring holiday stretch, he found far more change than he'd expected on the table, two pairs of new gloves… and a hulking mass of black draped over the back of a chair.

Wayne picked up the coat and held it out in front of him, marveling at its size. Well, it was warm, didn't have any holes in it, and clearly hadn't cost an arm and a leg. He folded it and put it back where he found it, spotting a note underneath the cash.

"Coat was $7. It'll come in handy when I finally become a vampire."

Wayne snorted.

"Gloves were buy one, get one free. I can show you how to cut the fingers out of yours if you want to look as cool as me."

He rolled his eyes at the boy snoring down the hall, put down the note, and started getting ready for bed.

"Why is it so fucking cold? I'm freezing my balls off."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend of three months in the Hawkins High parking lot. Most of the sensible students went on inside when it was this cold, but his girl - who hated this place as much as he did - decided to stick it out with him outside until the bell rang and forced them in.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Her eyes rolled and her teeth chattered.

He checked his watch - seven minutes before the bell - and took one last drag off his cigarette. He exhaled as he dropped the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of his boot.

"Wanna go in?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Stubborn.

"C'mere, then." Eddie unbuttoned the massive black coat he'd bought the year before - now decorated with band buttons on the lapels - and held it open to her. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come on," he urged.

She looked at him suspiciously. Shit, was this weird? Was inviting your girl into a coat cocoon more of a six-month thing? And then she walked into him. He wrapped his arms and his coat around them both and felt her relax against him almost instantly. She slowly slid her arms around his middle and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Oh god, oh god, did she just nuzzle her cheek into him?!?

Eddie was glad she couldn't see the grin on his face. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall around his face so no one else could see it either. He leaned his cheek against her head and inhaled the scent of her, closing his eyes and wishing the bell would never ring so they could stay just like this forever.

What had George said the day he bought this coat? That he could fit five people in there?

Eddie was quite happy with just two.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

[koiiiiijiii]

Hiii ik it’s kinda random but there’s just not enough joker from windbreaker posts so I’d like to request any nsfw scenarios pleasee 🙏🏼

i absolutely like the idea that im answering to requests from like 2022… im so sorry guys!!!😭🙏🏻

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warnings : not safe for work links ; smut ; maybe ooc

i always had a thought that joker is a gentle giant type of guy. yes, he maybe a little cold sometimes, or emotionless, but its only because of how he was raised. when it comes to his partner, especially in bed he maybe too serious sometimes, starting from the fact that he makes sure if you actually want to have sex, so he makes sure if you really into process. it also makes sense because i imagine joker as a really passionate partner in bed, he definitely have some experience, so he knows exactly how to move, how to curl his fingers in each part of your body, how to make you feel like it’s the best sex ever. in return he wants you to be same passionate about process, its not a problem if you don’t have much experience, just let yourself enjoy your bodies and feelings.

i imagine him as a service dom, and what i mean by this - is that he will be mostly on top, enjoying your moans and how he makes you feel good. he will take your wishes, if you want him to go faster, or harder, but each time he knows exactly how to make it even better, and makes you forget the words.

joker doesn’t like to bring any type of rough stuff in your life, he had seen enough violence and roughness in his work, so your sex would never include any type of degradation, pain or discomfort, as i said he wants sex to be something that comes from both sides. and from here - his «no in bed» is quickies, degrading, anything connected to rough slapping, spitting, choking and etc.

also he have 0 shame when he is with you. i mean what for? you saw all of him, and he have nothing to hide from you, so after sex he would stand up in all his height and glory, pull off condom from his dick and with naked ass will go to bathroom, and will walk around your apartment naked until you two get into bed to sleep. yes, after sex he likes to sleep naked. aftercare with joker usually contains things like bringing you water if you asked, rubbing your back or tummy. honestly he is up to many stuff if it’s connected to bed. he is lazy big cat after sex and have 0 intention to do anything but holding you in his big hands.

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guys!! please let me know if you like my works or not, maybe i should add something or remove, or add different characters, and don’t be shy to send requests and share your ideas, because i feel like i may run out of consepts☝🏻🤓🤍🩰🕯️🍧

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣] #windbreaker #windbreaker webtoon #headcanon #webtoon #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker headcanon #x reader #joker windbreaker x reader #joker x reader #joker windbreaker #joker

[bakugotrashpanda]

Touya x Reader Word Count: 1.4k

!!: angst

A/N: this started out when I realized I didn’t write anything for Dabi’s birthday and then saw /tartaufraiz’s art on twitter and my brain took off with it. It wasn’t supposed to be this much angst, but I started listening to Logical (Olivia Rodrigo) and uh. Here we are. Just kind of wrote with this one, hopefully everything's in order and makes sense.

Your ex shows up the day after his birthday.

Punching in the code to your apartment, the front door to the building swings open with a creak. You pull your scarf down from your cheeks and let the semi-warm air heat them up. Giving your boots a good couple stomps to get rid of the snow and ice built up underneath, you head over to the elevator. 

You shuffle your grocery bags around and hit the button, sighing as you regain feeling in your face and fingers from the cold.

“You’re late,” a voice you had hoped to never hear again rings out to your right. Closing your eyes you pray that when you turn no one will be there. Deep breath in. Hold. And out.

Ding.

Metal doors in front of you slide open. You should get on – spam the door close button. Ignore what should be a voice in your head. Ignore the way your heart beat a little faster. 

But you can’t.

The elevator closes.

You turn to the stairs. Slow down. The little voice in your head warns you that you’re not ready to see him; you need to prepare yourself – put your walls up again. Turn faster, idiot. An even louder voice in your head screams at you. Consequences be damned, you need to see him.

When your eyes land on him, built up exhilaration clashes with years of pent up and pushed down sadness. White hair partially covers eyes that stole your heart and years of your life. His dark blue windbreaker won’t do much to keep the cold out, but then again, he always ran warm when you dated. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette before standing.

Your words are automatic. How many times had the two of you fought about lost security deposits because of smoke damage? “You can’t smoke in here.”

He arches an eyebrow but stubs the cigarette out on the stairs. “That’s the first thing you say to me?”

You sigh. “Touya, what’re you doing here?”

He shrugs and meanders over to you. Standing side by side he hits the elevator call button. “You didn’t wish me a happy birthday.”

“And?”

“Wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or something.”

“Could’ve been a text.”

He scoffs. “You’d’ve answered?”

Ding.

You get in the elevator and Touya follows. He pushes your floor before you can. It takes off with a slight jolt. Mechanical whirring fills an ever-growing tense silence. Questions and arguments you’ve wanted to have with him swirl around your mind.

In a desperate attempt to break the unbearable tension, you blurt the first thing that comes to your mind. “I thought you’d be busy in some other woman’s bed right now.”

Smooth. 

So fucking smooth.

He lets out a short bark of a laugh. “That was yesterday. Ya know, on my actual birthday.”

The elevator shudders to a stop and you leave first. Touya trails behind you silently like a shadow.

You finally ask what he’s doing here when your keys are in the door.

“Guess I missed hearing from you,” he says and leans against the wall.

“We broke up years ago.” The tang of bitterness in your voice betrays the calm demeanor you hope you’ve been projecting.

“And?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He nods at your almost unlocked door. “Are you going to invite me in? Or do your neighbors get a front row seat to whatever you got to say to me?”

You bite your tongue but turn the key, opening the door for him. With a grand sweep of your arm, you wave him in. The subtle scent of his cologne washes over you as he passes. 

Still the same scent he wore when we were together.

You plop the grocery bags on the counter and shuck your winter coat and scarf. When you return from hanging them up near the front door, you see him quietly unpacking your bags.

It’s a domesticity you rarely got from him before. When you were together you would’ve asked him for help unloading the groceries and gotten into an argument about it which would lead to another fight about splitting chores evenly as well as how money was spent. 

But here he is, your ex, in your kitchen putting food he’s not going to eat away without being asked and without complaint.

Folding the bags neatly, he opens the fridge and stops. From the entrance to the kitchen you can see something in his eyes. A myriad of emotions pass over his face – his brows pushing together. A question on the tip of his tongue. Lids lowering as he thinks. A slight frown. An unhappy sigh.

You know what he saw. And you have no excuse for it.

Should’ve kicked him out when I had the chance. 

Touya pulls out a small cake. It could fit in the palm of his hand. Pearly white frosting adorned with a single glazed strawberry. 

A habit you never cared to break. 

An accidental annual purchase.

A birthday cake. 

A secret now out in the open. 

“It’s-

“A habit,” you interrupt. “A bad one.”

“So you do think of me.”

The Touya you dated your first year of college would’ve been pleased — strutted around like a peacock and teased you a little. Not enough for you to get mad, but enough to start riling you up. But this one, the man in front of you now… you can’t quite put your finger on it. Is it a spark of hope in his eye? Maybe a quiet determination as he figures out where you stand? Or is it sorrow as he reminisces about the past?

Regardless, you can’t lie. Not to him. “Of course I do.”

“You miss me.” It’s not a question but rather a statement, and it pierces through the shoddy walls you surround yourself with. “Say it.”

You jerk your head up to find his eyes locked on you. “What?”

“You heard me. Say it. That you miss me.” His voice is rough, and the cake… that stupid little cake still sits in the palm of his hand. 

“I do. I miss you.” If he looked closely, he’d find traces of himself hidden in plain sight. A coat in your closet. A book on your nightstand. A lighter next to your candles. “And what about you?”

It’s the first time all night you’ve seen him hesitate. “We could try again.”

“We didn’t work Touya,” you smile sadly. “Maybe in another life we could’ve been happy, but not this one. It’s too late.”

Too much was said and we can’t take it back.

He sets the cake on the counter amidst your forgotten groceries and opens cupboards until he finds what he’s looking for. Taking a single candle, he gently places it next to the strawberry and lights it. 

“Make a wish,” you murmur.

A smirk ghosts across his lips. “I always wish for the same thing.” He bends so he’s level with the candle. The warm flame illuminates the contours of his face and reflects off the piercings he’s accumulated over the years. With a quick gust, the candle goes out leaving a wispy trail of smoke behind. You both stare at it. 

In the past, you would’ve hugged him and peppered him with kisses – asked him what he wished for and then told him not to tell you or it wouldn’t come true. He would’ve kissed your forehead and told you that superstition was stupid. But that was then and this is now.  

Uncomfortable familiarity settles around you like a wet blanket. You cross your arms over your chest. 

“You should go,” you whisper. Or else one of us will do something we both regret. You take a risk and flick your eyes up to his. Your pain is reflected in his gaze.

“Answer your damn texts next time.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. That would require unblocking his number.

He mimics your shrug. “Then maybe I’ll be around again.”

“Goodbye, Touya,” you roll your eyes and let out a little laugh.

He approaches you like you would a wounded animal. Carefully. Tenderly. Reaching out slowly so that it can run away if it wants to. But you stay there and let his hand find your waist, a familiar warmth spreading under his contact. His other hand cups your cheek, and ever so slowly, he leans in. 

You meet him halfway for a chaste kiss. He doesn’t push for more, knowing he’s pressing his luck as it is.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. His thumb brushes your cheek one last time before he pulls away.

“Until next time.”

“Goodbye, Touya.” 

Picture in banner by takuya_n on unsplash

#dabi #dabi x reader #touya #touya x reader #angst

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Four

One | Two | Three

I am once again posting hfjkds

Anyway! Here's the next PJO AU! We get to see some interactions between Steve and some goddesses, some more hints at El's parent, and some Steddie at the end

Stick around to the very end for a meme!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Five Weeks Before Meeting Eddie

Steve and the kids are spread out across a department store in Pennsylvania when he, Lucas, and Erica run into the most aesthetically pleasing woman any of them have ever seen. Her face is almost otherworldly, and Steve can't find any blemishes or imperfections in her dark skin. Her hair is a perfect afro, bouncy and decorated with little heart-shaped clips made of real gemstones, the kind of style Erica keeps trying for but always falls short of. She's wearing a short dress; it's orange, flows nicely around her knees, and is paired with white wedges.

The sight of her strikes all of them a little dumb, too distracted by appreciating her beauty to wonder why she seemed to show up out of nowhere. To their credit, Erica and Steve manage to avert their gazes when the woman's eyes glance over them. Lucas, however, continues to stare, his head tilted and his brows furrowed in thought before he lights up with recognition.

"Mom!" he exclaims, dropping the windbreaker in his hands. He smiles brightly as he rushes over, stopping just short of running into the woman. "What are you doing here?"

The woman, who Steve now realizes is Aphrodite, smiles at Lucas with a genuine warmth that relaxes him a little. "Hello, dear," she says, her voice clear and soothing as she cups Lucas's cheek and tilts his head up. "You're looking lively."

"I've been having a lot of fun," he tells her. Lucas then looks over his shoulder and waves Erica and Steve over. "This is Steve. He's been protecting us."

Erica rushes over ahead of Steve, not bothering to hold herself back from hugging Aphrodite's waist like Lucas. She buries her face in her mother's dress as the hug is returned. "I haven't seen you in years," Aphrodite says, pulling back enough to crouch in front of Erica and study her. "You've been growing so well."

"Do you like my hair?" Erica asks, showing a rare childish side as she gestures to her afro-puffs. "Steve helped!"

And this seems to be Steve's cue to introduce himself. When Aphrodite looks up and stands, he smiles politely and nods to her. "Hi, nice to meet you," he says, wondering if he's being too informal. The other goddesses he's met didn't seem to mind, though, and Aphrodite's smile reassures him.

"And you as well, Steve. Thank you for looking after my children all this time," she says, placing one hand on Erica's head and the other on Lucas's shoulder. "I've heard about you from the other goddesses and just had to see what the fuss was about."

"There's a fuss?" Steve asks. He's not sure it's such a good thing for the gods on Olympus to be talking about him. "All good, I hope."

"Good enough," Aphrodite says, her smile dimming slightly as she takes a deep breath. She looks down at Erica and Lucas. "Why don't you two go find something nice? It'll be a gift from me."

Lucas doesn't immediately understand what she means, but Erica does. She nods once and grabs Lucas's hand. "C'mon, I wanna look at the video games," she says, dragging him along.

Once they're out of earshot, Aphrodite looks at Steve. Her smile has become polite. "I truly am grateful that you've been taking care of them," she says, and Steve starts to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, "but I must ask that you take them back to their father."

"What? Why?" Steve asks, frowning slightly.

Aphrodite sighs and crosses her arms loosely. "Several reasons, really," she says. "You attract monsters, Steve. I mean, you are his child. Lucas and Erica were safe at home, surrounded by human children and their human father. Not to mention, your...sister."

Steve tenses, his nerves on edge with just one word. "What about my sister?" he asks, narrowing his eyes slightly. There isn't much he can do against a goddess, but he isn't scared to fight one for any of the kids, especially his sister.

"Well, I'm sure she's a very nice girl," Aphrodite starts, her voice soft and placating, but it doesn't change the anger her words incite. "But that doesn't change the danger my children are in because of her."

Knowing where this was going does nothing to quell the anger that simmers in Steve at her words. "My sister is not a danger to anybody," he says. Then he considers the words and adds, "Well, she's only a danger to the people who threaten her and her loved ones, which includes your children."

Aphrodite sighs once more, her bottom lip jutting out just slightly in what Steve knows should be a sympathetic pout, but it just comes across as patronizing. "She cannot control her powers. One slip-up, and my children ar--"

"She doesn't slip up," Steve says, interrupting Aphrodite, "El, of all people, is the most aware of herself." He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself when he feels the anger crackling under his skin. Too much more and the sky will start to cloud over with thunder and lightning. "I get your concerns, but El isn't a danger."

He looks up at Aphrodite in time to see her frown, and even that expression is beautiful on her. "It doesn't matter how self-aware she is. Slipping is inevitable, and she will face my wrath if my children are hurt. That is a promise, Steve."

If Steve has learned anything from reading myths, it's that he shouldn't anger the gods, and he especially shouldn't anger the goddesses. But now El has been threatened. His sister, one of his kids, has been threatened. So, you know, he can probably be forgiven for what he says next.

"If you touch El or any of the other kids, I swear to the gods, I will make your fit over the golden apple look like a tadpole's temper tantrum," he says, his voice low as he glares at Aphrodite.

He watches as her shoulders rise, leaning back slightly, and her expression morphs into something mixed between angry and dumbfounded. "Did you just threaten me?" she asks.

Steve sees the question for what it is: a chance to take back his words and pretend they never happened. All things considered, it's generous and unexpected from a goddess. Steve doesn't actually care, though. "Yeah, I did. Those kids are under my care, even if they are little shits most of the time. I've fought for them and almost died for them multiple times. Anything that wants to hurt one of them has to go through me, whether that's monsters or gods. So, don't threaten them, because I'd hate to fight you in front of Lucas or Erica."

In the silence that follows, bland pop music plays over the department store's speakers, reminding Steve of where they are. He really just threatened Aphrodite in the middle of Macy's. Well, at least this will be a fun story to tell later.

"Well," Aphrodite finally says, sniffing once and looking down at Steve, "your arrogance is familiar." She lets that dig about Steve's godly parent rest between them for a few seconds. "Fine. I hope neither of us will ever have to act on our threats."

"Yeah. Me, too," Steve says, that anger starting to calm to a subtle buzz.

Aphrodite nods once. "The others were right about you. You are entertaining, and I can...respect your protectiveness regarding the children. I don't like you, though."

"I'll be honest, the feeling is mutual right now."

Their gazes hold for a few more seconds before Aphrodite nods once more in acknowledgment. Steve's anger fully settles then, disappearing until the next time his emotions start to stir. "I'm going to accompany Lucas and Erica for a while and get them some new clothes. I'll send them to you when we're done," she says, turning on her heel and walking in the direction that Erica pulled Lucas before Steve can respond.

He watches her leave, a frown tugging at his lips before he sighs. That meeting didn't go great, but it definitely could have been worse. Steve turns and goes to find El, needing to reassure himself that she's safe before he can completely relax.

----

Eddie gets to see Steve's favor with the goddesses in action on the second day of driving. The kids are starting to argue more than talk, and Eddie will admit that he needs to stretch his legs, so Steve agrees that it's time to stop and find a hotel.

"Can we get one with a pool?" Max asks, having to shout from the back row of seats to make sure Steve hears her.

Steve glances at her in the rearview mirror before sighing. "Yeah, I guess we can try," he says, quickly returning his gaze to the road before clearing his throat. The kids all quiet down, and the van is silent for the first time in hours. "Uh, Hestia, if you've got the time, I'd appreciate some guidance to a place we can stay for the night. The kids would like one with a pool, but just a place where we can sleep safely would be great."

Eddie has heard plenty of demigods pray before, but he thinks this is the most casually genuine one he's ever heard. When they drive past a few exit signs without any change, Eddie starts to suggest Steve try again with a more, well, reverential tone. But then the van's blinker suddenly switches on, and the kids cheer. Steve snorts at their reaction as he follows the blinker's direction and takes the next exit ramp off the highway.

"What the fuck," Eddie mutters, staring as the blinker continues to signal the turns Steve should take until they're pulling into a hotel parking lot.

The sign in front of the building announces it as "Hearth and Home" in cursive letters. The hotel itself is four stories tall and looks like a giant cottage. A few cars are in the parking lot, and Eddie can somehow tell this place is some kind of passion project for someone who doesn't have to worry about money.

After Steve pulls into a spot outside the hotel and shuts the car off, he turns in his seat and looks at the kids. "What are the rules?" he asks, his tone firm and leaving no room for jokes.

"Don't talk to strangers," El says.

"Don't talk at all while you're checking us in and out," Will adds.

"Stick together and stay in sight," Lucas says.

"Cough twice if we sense a monster nearby," Erica says.

"No fighting," Max says, already starting to shift closer to the doors.

"And if anyone asks," Dustin starts.

"We're traveling to meet family one state over," Mike finishes.

Steve nods once and opens his door. That seems to be the signal the kids were waiting for because they immediately scramble out of their seats. Eddie hops out and walks over to Steve, watching the kids climb out as he asks, "What's up with the rules?"

"Well, I'm a young guy traveling with seven kids. Most hotels are hesitant to give me rooms, and they'll straight up lie about being full if the kids are rowdy. We also need a system in place if one of them realizes a monster is around. And saying we're meeting family tells people that we're expected to appear somewhere by a certain time, which deters anybody from trying to, you know, kidnap one of the kids," Steve explains, glancing at Eddie as he shrugs.

Eddie has to stop himself from asking what led to Steve making some of these rules. Instead, he bites his tongue and follows the group inside, sticking to Steve's side as he walks up to the front desk and the kids huddle within sight a few feet away.

"Hi, do you have any vacancies for the night?" Steve asks, flashing a charming smile at the older woman working the desk.

She looks at Steve, then Eddie, and then the kids behind them. "How many rooms would you need?" she asks.

"If you happen to have any connected rooms, we'll take them. But if not, just two is fine."

The woman nods and checks her computer, hesitating for a few seconds before saying, "We don't have any connected rooms, but one of our Executive Suites is open. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large lounge area. It's made for large groups, so two of the bedrooms have bunkbeds in them. The price, however...."

Steve smiles at her reassuringly and pulls out his wallet. He plucks a black card from one of the pockets and presents it. "Don't worry about the cost," he says, "We'll take it."

At the sight of the sleek credit card, the woman lights up and smiles brightly at Steve. Eddie finds himself thinking that money really does talk. "Of course, sir," the woman says, a suddenly respectful tone coloring her words as she takes the card. "Could I see an ID as well, please?"

As Steve pulls out his license, he looks at Eddie and asks, "Could you take the kids to get the bags from the car? I should have the key cards by the time you get back." He places his license on the desk and hands his keys to Eddie.

Eddie finds himself nodding before he can really think about it, but how can he say no to Steve's brown eyes and the tiny dimples that appear when he smiles? So, he takes the keys and starts herding kids outside.

----

As it turns out, the hotel does, in fact, have a pool, and Steve can't help his grin when the kids cheer after they get to their rooms and he tells them. What follows is a flurry of kids changing into bathing suits, Steve lending Eddie a pair of swim trunks, and making sure everyone has towels and plenty of sunscreen slathered all over them.

The pool is surprisingly large, and there's plenty of space for the kids to swim around and expend some energy. Steve drops into one of the pool chairs and closes his eyes, the plastic warm on his back without burning his skin. He hears another chair get dragged closer before someone sits on it. When Steve opens an eye to look over, Eddie has settled next to him, watching the kids with a slight frown.

Steve follows his gaze, but he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The only thing that might catch someone's attention is El wearing her beanie in the pool, but even that could be explained as her forgetting to take it off.

"They don't have any scars," Eddie says after a moment.

Steve blinks and pushes himself up some, sitting straighter in the chair and looking at Eddie. His hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a few pieces escaping to frame his face. He's not obviously muscular like Steve, and he doesn't have an 8-pack, but Steve can still see the subtle muscles in his arms and legs. And the scars. Steve can see plenty of scars littered across Eddie's chest and stomach, his arms, and one particularly nasty one just above his knee.

In that way, Steve supposes, they are similar. "I wouldn't let them get hurt," Steve says quietly, shrugging when Eddie looks at him. He scoots forward some so Eddie can get a better look at his own scars. Despite the warm weather, he still can't help goosebumps traveling up his arms as Eddie stares at him.

"What's that one from?" Eddie asks, gesturing to a large slash that reaches from Steve's shoulder to his elbow.

Steve glances down and hums softly. "Stymphalian bird feather. They're made of steel. It attacked us after we picked up Mike and Dustin. Thankfully, there was only one bird, and I managed to dodge most of the time, but I got this one when I closed in to kill it," he explains.

Eddie stares at the scar, and Steve wonders what he's imagining. Does he want to know how vicious the fight must have been? It was one of Steve's messier fights. He didn't have any training, and he barely had experience. Really, Steve had nothing but his instincts and a desperation to keep the kids safe. "What about those?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts as he leans closer to point at what's clearly a bite mark on Steve's right side.

"The lion head of a Chimera," Steve says, glancing at Eddie before pointing at a scar wrapping around his throat. He shifts until he's sitting on the edge of his chair and tilts his head to give Eddie a better view. "The snake tail was choking me at the same time. I had to use lightning on that one since it had me trapped. We ran into it almost two months ago."

Eddie scoots to the edge of his chair, and their knees are almost close enough to touch. Something starts to buzz under Steve's skin. It's not anger. He knows what that feels like. It's something else this time, something that sizzles and lingers and tries to push against his skin to break free. Steve tries not to think about it.

"And this one?" Eddie asks, pointing to a scar that's splashed across Steve's left knee like a starburst.

"That one," Steve says, getting a grin despite himself, "happened because Dustin tried to help me fight a minotaur. He made this mini-bomb without me knowing and threw it into the fight. I managed to tuck and roll, but the explosion still brushed against me. This scar is from it, too." He turns his right leg out so Eddie can see a similar scar on the inside of his calf.

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie swallow, his throat rolling, and that electric feeling gets stronger. It centers on Steve's knees, the spot where they're closest to touching. But it travels like those toys with magnetic sand when Eddie leans closer and points to the scar in the middle of his chest. It grows the longer Eddie's hand hovers there, and Steve glances down just to make sure there aren't actually sparks buzzing across his skin.

"This one?" Eddie whispers, holding Steve's gaze.

Mouth suddenly dry, Steve clears his throat. "My first fight. The, uh, snake thing that took Will," he says. "Some of the scars on my back and stomach are from that one, too."

Eddie nods, and Steve can't place his expression for a few seconds. When he finally does, he realizes it's something like adoration. He's seen it before from all the kids at some point, usually after he's fought a monster to keep them safe. But Eddie is different. Eddie's adoration is just the surface emotion. Under it, Steve can glimpse something even more intense. He almost wants to drown in whatever it is, let it surround him until he can figure out how to describe it.

"You really are metal, Stevie," Eddie says, his voice soft as he smiles at Steve.

Steve has already acknowledged that Eddie is his type, and he definitely isn't imagining the tension between them right now. Without thinking, he leans forward, a similarly soft grin tugging at his lips. But whatever he wanted to say is literally shocked out of him.

The moment he's close enough for Eddie's hand to actually touch Steve's chest, that fizzing energy bursts through. It's not strong by any means, but it's demanding attention as it zaps across Steve's chest and Eddie's fingertip. Steve jerks back, rubbing at his chest and taking a deep breath to control the crackling over his ribs.

Eddie is frozen, staring at his still outstretched hand in shock. His eyes are wide, and Steve grimaces, wanting to take his hand and check for burns but scared of shocking Eddie more.

"Sorry," he mutters, looking away and coincidentally meeting El's gaze. She's sitting on the steps leading into the pool, legs pulled up to her chest with an amused smile on her face. When she realizes that Steve is slightly panicked, though, she blinks and tilts her head. Steve subtly shrugs one shoulder, and, thankfully, she gets the message.

"Steve!" she calls, waving her hand as though she doesn't already have his attention.

It's the save Steve is desperate for, and he practically jumps up from his chair. "I'm gonna go see what El needs," he says, glancing at Eddie only to find he's already looking up at Steve.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Eddie mumbles. Steve waits until Eddie nods to speed-walk (it's still a pool, after all, and he won't set a bad example by running) over to El, urging his heart and the crackling beneath his skin to calm down.

----

Tag List!

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For those who stuck around, a meme:

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #percy jackson au #the party #my writing

[kumememe]

new beginnings (felix catton x m!reader)

warnings: none, just felix being intrigued by you. proofread a little bit, might do a part two soon if people like it. send in requests if you want, but note that I only do male and transmasc readers. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a cool autumn breeze danced gently across the field of webbe college, gracing the students with its presence. the sun softly casts its sunlight upon the old, slightly rustic buildings as they emit a yellow-orange glow. the timely place felt as if nothing had changed or caught the attention of students until- felix catton. the so-called 'prince of oxford,' the shining star amidst the otherwise dark and gloomy galaxy. the moment he stepped in on campus, everyone knew who he was. he wasn't doing it intentionally, it was just what the universe has bestowed upon him. it's just how he naturally is. he was meant to be the center of attention, the one who gets everything and anyone he wants without any effort. with his six foot-five stature, fluffy dark hair, flashy smile, and aloof nature- he brings people in like a moth to the light. students would do anything to be in his posse because of his magnetic charm, where they hang onto his every word as if he were a saint on a pedestal. at this point, people may as well bow down to him and kiss his feet. it is not like he wouldn't mind, after all, since that is how his life has always been. his aura was hard to miss, hard to ignore, and yet.. someone changed that.

felix took a drag of his cigarette as he leaned against the wall of the college hallways, talking to some students who wanted to ask him about something unimportant. he was used to girls and boys asking him about the most mundane things just to get closer to him, the touch him subtly on the shoulder with their flirty gazes. it was normal, but oh so boring. he listened to some girl chatter on about how she wanted to take him out sometime, but his focus was caught somewhere else, specifically across the hall. a guy, about average height, wearing a windbreaker jacket that hugged his figure nicely, chunky glasses that almost hid his piercing e/c-colored eyes, black denim jeans that accentuated his thick thighs, and a pair of tattered sneakers that looked like it was worn for years. he observed his mannerisms quietly, the conversations that occurred around him quickly falling silent as his eyes stuck to the male across the hall. felix knew that he was just another average joe, but something about the way the other male quietly walked inside the library, adjusted his headphones, and avoided those around him... it made felix realize how out-of-place the latter was.

felix quietly makes his way toward the boy, ignoring the stares that he gets from the confused posse around him as they watch him do so. his confident stride noticeable from afar, fixing his hair a bit as he followed him inside the library. He quietly makes his way to the counter, leaning against it as he watches the other return his books. he cleared his throat as he showed off his charming grin, "hello." startled, the mysterious figure took his headphones off, letting it hang around his neck as he nodded slightly to the taller male, "hey." the mysterious figure didn't budge nor adjust his attitude when it came to felix, which surprised the tall male slightly. he was used to people having immediate recognition of his significance or popularity as they cower to him like prey when they meet the predators, but with the latter, it seemed like barely even knew who he was. at that moment of unfamiliarity, he feels a blend of intrigue and disbelief, pondering if the latter was the only one who didn't know of his power.

noticing felix's sudden silence, the peculiar fellow raises his brow. "...have we met before?" he asked as he left the counter slowly, watching as felix instinctively followed him to continue their conversation. felix snaps out of his thoughts, "no, it appears we haven't. i'm felix catton." felix extends his hand towards the latter, who hesitantly shakes it while giving a small smile. "i'm y/n. y/n l/n."

felix smiles at the way y/n's soft hands grazed against his as the latter pulled it away, eyes meeting with felix's. "felix catton, i've heard of that name before..." y/n put a finger to his chin as he tried to remember where he heard it from. "really? what have you heard about me?" felix smirked, feeling his arrogance seep through his calm and nonchalant facade. y/n hums, "not much, it's just that you kind of own this place in a way."  felix let out a small laugh at his observation, he liked the fact that y/n had no clue who he was, and it was refreshing. furthermore, it was a nice change of pace.

"are you a new student here?" felix asks, and y/n nods slightly as he makes his way to the physics section of the library. his hand softly follows the outlines of the books, carefully reading the title on the spine to check which ones he needs for class. "sort of, I just shifted to the course i've wanted since day one," y/n says as he takes out a book from the shelf, looking at the contents in its first page, "which is physics and philosophy." felix leans against the shelf with an interested look, his eyebrows arched in curiosity. "those two are quite a pairing, aren't they? philosophy and physics are the opposite of each other." he states, as y/n shrugs with a grin. "that's what makes it so exciting. you get the best of both worlds."

felix grins at the other male's attitude, he was interesting and mysterious, to say the least. y/n makes his way to a secluded part of the library that was near the philosopy section as felix followed like a puppy, eager to get to know the student. y/n turns to felix, "what about you? what did you take?"

"philosophy, politics, and economics." felix answers, waving it off. "it's a rather boring major to be in, honestly."

"do you not enjoy it?" y/n asks as he skims through the book, looking up at felix from time to time.

"eh, it's better than nothing," felix said as he gets closer to the shorter male in a not-so-subtle way, which was only met with a raised brow from the latter. y/n didn't bother to mention the shift in his tone as he hummed in response. "how about you, why'd you take physics and philosophy?"

y/n lets out a small scoff, "it is because, in short, i am a nerd." he says sarcastically, "and also because i enjoy pondering about stupid things such as... 'can you cry underwater?' or 'if you tried to fail and you suceeded at that, then... which one did you do?' it's silly, isn't it?"

felix snorts at y/n's own comments towards himself, finding his answers charismatic and charming. "you're quite the intriguing character, mr. l/n." felix says sarcastically.

"same goes to you, mr. catton." y/n says quickly in rebuttal, earning a cheeky scoff of approval.

as their banter continued, felix found himself drawn to y/n's energy and wit. he couldn't help but admire the way y/n's eyes lit up when discussing their shared interests, even if it was the simplest of topics such as food or music taste. it was refreshing, a departure from his usual interactions with classmates.

"hey, have you ever heard of the butterfly theory?" felix asked, leaning in closer, his curiosity piqued.

y/n looked up from the philosophy book they were skimming through, a playful grin tugging at the corners of their lips. "of course, who hasn't?" they replied, mirroring felix's proximity.

and just like that, they fell into a deep conversation about the theoretical possibilities of the butterfly effect, completely engrossed in each other's ideas and opinions. it was as if the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them immersed in their discussion. the way y/n talked so elegantly and focused, smiling as he talked about his ideas of different theories. the way his long thick lashes bat down each time he blinks, the way he chews his lips when he takes his time to form a response- felix felt drawn to him like a magnet. usually, it would be people around felix feeling like such but with the roles reversed, he realized how much he wanted to get to know the latter.

as the library hours passed by unnoticed, felix realized he was enjoying y/n's company more than he had anticipated. there was something about how they laughed at his jokes and challenged his thoughts that made him feel a sense of connection he hadn't felt in a long time. eventually, the librarian's gentle reminder that the library was closing snapped them out of their engrossing conversation. "my dears, the library will be closing soon.. please, go to the front if you need to check those books out. i'll be waiting, y/n, felix." the librarian's raspy voice reminds them quietly as she strolls past them with her return cart. reluctantly, the two guys gathered their belongings and made their way out after borrowing some books, their minds still buzzing with the excitement of their discussion.

outside the library, under the soft glow of the streetlights as the sun swayed downwards with the purple and blue gradient mixing in, felix turned to y/n with a smile. "hey, would you like to continue our conversation at the nearby pub sometime?"

felix knew that there was a reason he was drawn to y/n, and he wanted more. he couldn’t help but think maybe this could turn into a real friendship or better.

y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement as they nodded eagerly. "i'd love to," he replied, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ this end was a bit rushed tbh, but i still like it :) if you guys also like it, reblog and heart it (idk this is awkward) i also took inspo from chai, specifically quietwinters so uhhhh.... yeah. thanks for reading.

#male reader #saltburn #saltburn x male reader #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh start x male reader #felix catton #oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #venetia catton #x male reader #saltburn fluff

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Triangulum - Chapter 3 - An Unwelcomed Guest

— — — — — — —

Bill’s head hurt.

A searing ache throbbed at the back of his skull while consciousness returned to him once again. No pain in recent memory compared to something like this; even getting his eye ripped out of its socket had been more of an inconvenience at worst. It took forever to regenerate those things!

The closest thing he could compare such intense pain to was his outright death, which sent a jolt of panic through his mind that only furthered his headache. He wasn’t dead again, was he—

“Why would I go through all this effort to bring you back, only to deceive you about what I have to offer?”

Oh. Right.

Any concerns were washed away in an instant as the feathery face of the shelduck drifted to the front of his mind. Not just their face, but the conversation the two of them had shared in the mindscape. The game they had wanted him to play, their contract, the destruction of the barrier as a prize—

—something was wrong.

Even with his eyelid still closed, Bill could physically feel a disconnect with his body. 

It was difficult to verbalize properly—his eye felt too distant from his limbs, and his usual shape felt noticeably altered. As if he’d slipped into a costume with lots of awkward parts, ones that stuck out in ways that forced him to be aware of their existence as he tried to descend down a narrow passageway.

Almost exactly how he’d felt whenever he possessed someone in the past. 

But the way the body suited itself around his existence, it didn’t feel like it would belong to a talking, anthropomorphic shelduck. Even with his eye closed, Bill could still feel a lack of any feathers pinpricking their way through his skin, or a beak protruding from his face—

“When did I ever say you were going to possess me in this game?”

…Ah.

Alright, even he couldn’t ignore a good loophole dodge when he saw it. Point to Tangy for their oh-so-clever little trick; he’d be sure to give them kudos for it later. 

Kudos in the form of soaking their tacky windbreaker in a gallon of rotten tuna fish for a month. Good luck getting the smell out after that one, Birdbrain!

“—what if he’s not even in there anymore?”

“Yeah, he could’ve jumped out after Wendy clunked him on the back of the head!”

“Are we even sure it’s him in the first place? Just sayin’, some random kid cackling maniacally in the middle of the woods isn’t the weirdest thing to happen around here.”

“Everyone just hold on a second, I’m trying to think—”

The sound of frantic, hushed voices stirred him further awake, and he fluttered his eyelid—no, wait, eyelids plural—open the tiniest amount to investigate. 

It didn’t seem like Birdbrain had taken any extreme measures with his vision; he still possessed a functioning eyeball. But rather than being set in the center of his face, his vision had taken a hard shift to the left and weakened to a noticeable degree. And while his vision hadn’t carried over to the right side of his face, he could feel another eyeball rotating around in its socket.

Almost as much as he could feel a set of teeth and tongue in a separate cavity much lower on his face—oh, eugh, he’d forgotten how bizarre it felt to have his face parts separated like this, and not even the fun kind of bizarre!—or a protruding nose right smack dab between his new pair of eyes.

Alright, so Birdbrain had gone humanoid for his vessel. Bit cliché, but nothing he wasn’t used to by this point. And if his mouth and eye placement weren’t enough to confirm this fact, peering open his eyelids further revealed his head to be slumped forwards, gaze fixed on a pair of black-panted human legs that were clearly attached to his body.

Yep, there was no denying that he’d been slapped back into a meatsuit mecha.

An even-riskier peek around him revealed he was currently tied up in some sort of bedroom. One clearly owned by the word’s most generic older woman of all time; creme-colored floral wallpaper decorated the walls, a shelf lined with creepy, porcelain dolls was situated near the door, and a comfortable old recliner had been set up near the fireplace—

—hang on, wasn’t this just the parlor room in the Shack?

“He’s awake!”

Shoot. Guess he’d made it a bit too obvious that he’d regained consciousness.

Bill’s head snapped up to full height at the sudden exclamation, only find himself on the receiving end of a number of different intimidation methods—all to various degrees of effectiveness.

Mabel’s weapon of choice was her beloved grappling hook. One of the better options of the bunch; metal was strong enough to shatter a fragile human skull if aimed at just the right spot and applied with just enough power and force. Terrible for his current vessel, but Bill could appreciate a healthy level of bloodlust.

Stan’s brass-knuckled fists were—admittedly—also an inspired choice, given how effective his fists had been in the past. A fact that Bill was happy to ignore and brush to the side as he shifted his attention over to—

—the random plank of wood in Dipper’s hands, one he was gripping tightly with all the intimidation of a mildly-inconvenienced kitten. Yeesh, had he even tried?

Of course, Pine Tree’s embarrassing incompetence was compensated in full by the gun in Ford’s hand, both the barrel and his own violent gaze locked onto Bill like his life depended on it.

Hmm, that was annoying.

And here Bill had hoped he could keep his return discreet for at least a short while before these suckers caught wind. Maybe strike some fear and uncertainty in their naive minds by staring ominously at them through their windows, only to vanish from sight when they came over to investigate. 

Were their minds playing tricks on them now that they were back in town? Were they simply paranoid as a result of what happened the year before? Or was there really someone watching them beyond the shadows of the trees? 

Maybe if his methods were effective enough, Ford would even start shooting at the woods in a blind panic. Heck, maybe one of the kids would even get caught in the crossfire!

Y’know, fun stuff like that.

But unfortunately for Bill, it seemed like he’d dropped right into the belly of the beast and Ford had gained the upper hand while he’d been unconscious. 

Any attempts to move his new human limbs revealed them to be restrained to the chair he was seated upon; arms tucked behind the back and bound at the wrists, torso tied in place—what, had there been a sale on rope or something? It was a miracle they’d left his legs alone—or maybe they’d just run out of rope by that point?

Nope, an abandoned piece near the far wall rendered that guess incorrect. Maybe they just hadn’t had enough time to restrain his legs, then?

Moving the focus back to his captors, Bill’s gaze bounced from person to person as he took a quick stock of their expressions. Unanimous hatred and fury trying so desperately to mask the uncertainty and fear behind their expressions. The clear desire to come across as intimidating, despite the trembling hands around their weapons.

So much fear, despite having the upper hand over him. Bill was tied to a chair and barely conscious, yet he could get a reaction like this outta them?

Good.

Because otherwise, he had no idea how he would be able to spin this situation to his advantage. With the element of surprise and mobility no longer an option for him, tapping into those fears and insecurities was the only weapon that Bill had left at his disposal.

Speaking of which—

The silence in the room stretched on as the Pines continued to stare at him, to the point where Bill was starting to grow bored. Sure, leaving them forever entrenched in uncertainty might be fun in theory, but that also required him to remain quiet for just as long.

And while that wasn’t an impossible order, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter.

He needed just the right comment to break the ice. A perfect reintroduction to his presence in their lives, one that would only strengthen that fear behind their eyes.

“I gotta ask, what didja think a gun was gonna do against me?” he asked with a grin at Ford. “I mean, do you really think regular old bullets are going to be enough to get the job done?”

His pupil flicked over to Dipper. “Guess it’s better than whatever Junior’s got going on over there, though,” he said. “Seriously, Pine Tree, a piece of wood? I guess you might have a chance at beating me in a game of interdimensional rock-paper-scissors, but outside of that, I don’t like your odds.”

Just for good measure, he punctuated everything with his loud, trademark cackle—one that shook the room and everyone in it.

Oh yeah, that’d do the trick nicely.

Sure enough, everyone’s grip on their weapons tensed, the fear in their faces now completely tangible as the worst scenario they could possibly imagine was confirmed.

“Bill.”

It was Ford who spoke first, tone marinaded in venom as he stared Bill down. Such vitriol sent another cackle throughout Bill, his body wiggling with delight against the bonds that held him to the chair. “Aww, it’s good to see you too, Sixer~!” he said sweetly. “What’s it been, about nine months now? Nice beard, by the way. Really brings your face together in a way that those sideburns didn’t, know what I mean?”

His amusement fell with a vindictiveness he made no attempt to mask. “Although if you ask me, I’d suggest taking up that old face-burning habit of yours to clear everything up and start fresh,” he said, narrowing his eye—eyes. “I mean, you’re clearly the expert in burning things around here. Facial hair, bridges, minds with me in them—”

“Stop talking.”

Bill was cut off by the cold, threatening steel of the gun barrel being pressed against his cheek, pupil flitting up to Ford’s own cold, threatening gaze. 

Oh, he was real mad. 

Of course, not even Ford’s ire was enough to silence Bill completely, and he managed a smug grin despite the distortion of his cheek against the weapon’s tip. “Again I ask: just a regular gun? No Quantum Destabilizer? No memory-erasing device or fancy-schmancy magical weapon from your precious journals? You’re really getting dull in your old age, Fordsy.” 

He tilted his head, half in thought and half to give himself some breathing room. “Although I have to wonder why you didn’t just try to kill me while I was knocked out, if you’re this trigger-happy?”

The answer to that one was pretty obvious. Given their initial reactions, they hadn’t been certain if he had actually been possessing someone—and they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human on the off-chance they were wrong. And now that he was awake and his presence confirmed, they weren’t about to go and murder an innocent human while he was possessing them.

And if that was truly the case, it probably meant he was free to run his mouth as much as he wanted.

Probably. 

Maybe?

“Ooh, lemme guess: you wanted me to be awake before you pumped me full of lead?”

…Heck with it, he couldn’t resist the chance to press a few more of Ford’s buttons. To really test the waters on what he could get away with saying or doing. “Well, I’d love to see you take your best shot at it~!” he continued with a wide grin, one that show far too much of his gums. Guess that was one benefit to having a humanoid vessel again. “I know it’ll probably get a real laugh outta the poor sucker I’m puppeting around now—”

There was a click of the hammer as the tip was pressed further into his cheek, to the point where not even leaning away from it would pull Bill out of its line of fire.

Alright, limit reached for the time being. “Okay, okay, geez, I get the picture,” he said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Can I at least ask for a mirror or something? I wanna see what I’m working with over here.”

Okay, maybe one more. “I’d fetch one myself, but as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment~!”

Ha. Hilarious.

Luckily for him, his clever little risk seemed to pay off in the unexpected way of making Ford lower his weapon, with an added bonus of painting a look of confusion across his face. And judging by the looks being exchanged between the other family members, it was clear that his little joke had been far more effective in causing confusion than he’d originally intended.

After a few more minutes of perplexed silence between them, it was Mabel who eventually—and hesitantly—spoke up with a: “You…don’t know what you look like?”

Hmm, an unexpected question to follow the unexpected responses. And a stupid one at that; did she really expect him to give her the honest, unfiltered truth when prompted?

If she did, the answer to that question would be a resounding “It’s funny how dumb you are, Shooting Star~!”, followed by a bout of condescending laughter to drive the point home. 

And the answer to her former question would probably be that same reply and condescending laughter. There was no chance across the entire multiverse that he would tell them about his little deal with Tangy. Birdbrain had said it themselves back in their mindscape: the second they found out that he was playing a game where the prize was the destruction of the barrier, the second Ford would do everything in his power to keep him restrained until the end of the game.

Or, well—more restrained than he was already.

Still, as good as his clever little joke had been, he had unintentionally dropped a small hint to them about his situation. 

Guess it was time to do what he did best; scramble their mushy little brains more than he’d done already and throw them completely off the right track. 

“I mean—it was all kind of a blur when I possessed the guy,” he said casually, leaning back in the chair as far as he could. “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—hey, come on—”

The barrel of the gun was at his cheek again as Ford gave him another warning look. “Don’t listen to a single word he says,” he said, directing the statement at the others. “We have no reason to believe that what he’s telling us is the truth, so don’t take any stock in anything he’s saying.”

Bill narrowed his eyes up at him. Spoilsport. Spoilsport and a hypocrite, to boot! “Oh, yeah, that’s rich, Sixer,” he said bitterly. “But I guess you would know what it’s like to give people a reason not to trust you, wouldn’t you?”

His functional pupil bounced over to Stan, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. “I’m just saying: the last time we saw each other, you were promising to finally give me that equation,” he said, with a look back to Ford. “But then when I ended up making the deal, it wasn’t your brain I ended up in, was it—OW!”

The tip of the gun was jammed so hard against his cheek that the skin would likely be bruised in the shape of a triangle later. “Stop talking—”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before Ford could respond, Stan’s hand was back on his shoulder and gently goading him towards the door. “Ford, come on, let’s just—”

“Stan—”

“He’s tied up, Soos says the rope’s got the unicorn stuff woven into it,” Stan kept trying. “Let’s just step outside for a sec. Kids, why don’t you go with him? I’ll be with you in a few minutes, just—”

“We’re on it.”

Ford opened his mouth to protest further, but Mabel had already taken one of his hands in her own while Dipper claimed the other. “Come on, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, giving his hand an encouraging tug. “Let’s go wait in the hallway.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go ahead and leave, Sixer~?” Bill teased with a kick of his feet. “I’m sure I won’t go anywhere while you’re gone!”

A risky taunt, for sure. Ford had turned the gun on him enough times to prove that he was only a few more pokes away from throwing caution to the wind and sticking a bullet between his eyes, regardless of the consequences. Besides, the sooner Bill got the chance to be alone and collect his thoughts, the better. 

But at the same time, any opportunity to get under Ford’s skin was just too good to resist, nor did he have any desire to try resisting in the first place.

It seemed to be a lucky day for him in terms of taunt-rope balancing, because Ford pulled his hands from the kids’ embraces and trudged out of the room with calm, restrained steps. Steps clearly powered by every last ounce of self-control he could possibly muster, ones that suppressed a deep, brooding storm that swelled just beneath the surface.

Good. Seethe harder, Stanford.

Eventually the door shut behind him, leaving Stan and the kids—their own hands now void of any that possessed six fingers—behind. Although it was only a second later when the door cracked open again, and one six-fingered hand reentered their line of sight. 

A hand that Mabel immediately took hold of again before both her and Dipper hurried out into the hallway after him. Leaving only Bill, Stan, and a deafening silence left in the room.

A deafening silence that Bill was quick to break with a casual: “Gotta say, the beard look is waaaay more natural on you than it is on Sixer. Covers your ugly mug way better than his does.”

Apparently Ford had kept all of the restraint for himself because Stan was back to him before he could blink, and Bill had no time to brace himself as the older man grasped a rugged hand around his throat. “Listen to me, and listen good, Wise Guy,” he growled. “I don’t know how you got back here, and I don’t really care how.”

The hand around Bill’s neck tightened as he balled the other into a fist. “But I punched your lights out once, and I can do it again. As many times as it takes for you to stay down for good.”

He moved the first near Bill’s blinded eye, his good pupil following despite himself. “You try anything with my family again, you’re gonna know what it feels like to get punched to death twice. ¿Comprende?”

It was a threat Bill knew that Stan would hold himself to if necessary. One that Bill couldn’t help but feel a twinge of genuine fear towards as those final memories inside Stan’s head came rushing back to him. 

And for a split second, Bill could almost feel the terrifying heat of the flames around them, creeping nearer and nearer as they swallowed every last bit of the room in their destructive wake—

One fatal mistake…

—only for a brief moment, before he flashed Stan another toothy grin. “But seriously, you should keep that beard. Maybe try and convince Sixer to shave his, I don’t know who I was kidding when I told him it looked good—”

His grin spread wider, once again revealing far too much of the inside of his mouth. “But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

Stan punched him. Hard.

And when Bill crumbled with a shout, pain enveloping the area around his right eye that was sure to be bruised within minutes, Stan turned and stormed out of the room.

Yep—flew too close to the sun with that one.

— — — — — — —

Ford had barely made it out of the room before the stress of the situation brought him to his knees, and Stan entered the hallway to the sight of almost everyone else circled around him in an attempt to bring comfort.

Seeing him, Soos lifted his head. “So, is it really him?”

“Sure looks, sounds, and acts like it,” Stan said, pressing a weary hand to his temple. “Alright, so the guy who tried to take over the universe and who we thought was dead is now tied up in the next room, very much the opposite of dead.”

He took a sweeping glance around at the rest of the group. “...Does anybody have a game plan?”

From beside Ford on the floor, Mabel perked up. “What about that zodiac prophecy thingy Grunkle Ford tried to do during Weirdmageddon?” she asked. “Didn’t he say that was supposed to stop Bill?”

“Hey, yeah!” Stan snapped his fingers with an inspired look. “Great idea, Pumpkin, we could try that!”

“But don’t we need all of the symbol-things for it to work?” Soos pointed out. “And out of the original ten, we only have, like—” He paused to count heads. “—six of the people here that we’d need.”

From the spot near the wall where Wendy had seated herself, she lifted her head to join in on the conversation. “Well, then why don’t we just get the other four?” she asked. “I doubt it’d be hard to convince Robbie, Pacifica or the others to help us out. They probably hate Bill as much as we do.”

“We could also try the Quantum Destabilizer,” Dipper added thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. “Grunkle Ford said it could blast Bill back into the Nightmare Realm, but I wonder if that would actually work without a rift to—you know, blast him back through.”

“What do you think, Dr. Pines?” Melody asked, directing the question at Ford.

And suddenly all eyes were back on Ford again, who had yet to move from the spot where he had collapsed after leaving the bedroom—too enveloped in his own overwhelming, smothering thoughts to take any notice to the others’ suggestions.

Bill was alive.

A scenario he had only envisioned in the worst of the nightmares that plagued his head on a nightly basis. A fear that lingered over him like the shadow of a starving predator, waiting to strike its unsuspecting prey when they least expected.

He had wanted to hope so dearly that he’d been dreaming when that child between the birch trees began to laugh in that horrific, familiar way. The bone-chilling laughter that often echoed through the deepest recesses of his mindscape, nothing more than a mere shadow of the one who had once produced it.

But this was no dream, no nightmare, nor a bad memory he could simply banish to the back of his mind—

Bill was alive.

“Dr. Pines?”

“The Zodiac Prophecy is a no-go,” he said, his words forming on their own as he returned to his feet. “The entire town believes that Bill is dead, and letting too many people know that he’s returned could ignite a panic.” 

He cast a tense look around at everyone else. “One would argue that too many people know about his return already.”

“Hey, come on, I don’t think anyone here’s in a hurry to go blabbing about him,” Wendy pointed out. 

“Regardless, it’s not a liable option at the moment,” Ford continued. “And unfortunately, neither is the Quantum Destabilizer. The only power source stable enough to power the device was only obtainable in another dimension, with the assistance of another another dimension’s Fiddleford McGucket—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s gonna be tough to get, then,” Melody spoke up. “Fiddleford's out of town for a few weeks with his family.”

“We had to put our weekly anime club meetings on hiatus until he got back,” Soos added sadly. “But, that gives all of us plenty of time to catch up on our latest show and discuss our thoughts once he’s back!”

Ford raised his hands. “Wait, that’s not what I—”

“Well, what about when he does get back?” Wendy asked. “I mean—like I said before, I doubt he’d be in a hurry to go blabbing to anyone else. Plus he’s probably smart enough to build anything we’d need to get rid of Bill.”

“Wait, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, good point, Wendy!” Stan said, waggling a finger at her. “The guy turned this place into a giant, robotic, triangle-punching whatchamacallit. He could definitely build some fancy-schmancy power source—”

“You’re missing the point!”

Ford’s fist hit the wall before he could even process his action, and suddenly the hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. His frustration lingered for only a second, before he took a look at the concerned expressions around him—

—and the guilt swiftly drowned any other emotions that had been building inside his chest. “Sorry, that was—sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Several pairs of shoulders unclenched as his arm fell back to his side, and Stan moved to him again. “Woah, woah, hey, come on, no one here’s about to judge you for swingin’ a fist,” he assured him. “Feel like outta anyone here, you deserve to do it the most.”

He flicked a thumb back at the bedroom door. “‘Sides, at least you held out as long as you could. I may have given the little jerk a—let’s call it a ‘welcome back gift’.” 

A pause. “I…I gave him a black eye, that’s the joke I was trying to make.”

“Non-refundable gift,” Wendy said with a proud nod. “Nice.”

“Stan’s got a point,” Dipper added from Ford’s side. “It’s Bill Cipher. I feel like if anyone deserves to be angry right now, it’s you.”

“Yeah, sorry for uh—sorry if we sounded like we weren’t taking this seriously,” Soos added. “I know how dangerous he is, and Wendy and I even told Melody everything about him ahead of time. Just in case something like this ever happened, of course. A big bad returning during a moment of peace is a common trope in sequels, after all.”

He rolled his hands together. “And since this is the summer after he died…you know, sequel summer? Just…just sayin’, it wasn’t outta the realm of possibilities.”

“I wasn’t sure how much of it was actually true,” Melody admitted. “But also I’ve seen way weirder stuff in this town. So if you all say that kid in there’s actually an evil triangle demon bent on destroying the universe, then I’d believe it.”

“There, you see?” Stan added. “Ain’t nobody here to judge. You be as angry as you want, punch another wall or two if you really gotta.”

“Although if it helps you swing at them less, clearly we’re all on the ball when it comes to thinking of ways to put Cipher back under the ground where he belongs,” Wendy pointed out. “Maybe the stuff we already suggested won’t work, but putting our heads together like this will probably get us somewhere a lot quicker than when you were just doing this by yourself, y’know?”

“Once again, Wendy knows what’s what,” Stan agreed, and gave her a thumbs up. “If I were still your boss, I’d give you a raise.”

“...No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He reached over to clasp a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Point we’re tryin’ to make is that you’ve got your family here for you this time. You don’t have to deal with this alone again.”

“Yeah, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel agreed, casting him a weak smile as she once again tucked a hand into his own. “We’ll do everything we can to help you kick Bill’s butt again!”

Ford’s gaze fell to her face, sweet eyes wide with concern and small hands once again gripping his own tightly. He could feel them trembling, clearly masking just as much fear as he was harboring inside him—

—the same way his had trembled as he pulled the trigger on the memory gun, wiping every little trace of what made his brother himself from his mind. 

He forced his gaze to the man at his right, eyes moving up to the face that mirrored his own to a near-identical degree.

The face of the man Ford had cried over for a week straight while he worked so tirelessly, so desperately to restore those lost memories. For whom he had dug out every last movie reel, scrapbook—even old postcards that Stan had sent during his travels across the country, and with whom he had spent several long night poring over the contents. 

The man whose confused expression shifted to bright realization as the kids read out the jokes from his favorite joke book, jokes he would follow up with every terrible punchline with perfect recollection. The man who suddenly remembered his and Ford’s brush with the Jersey Devil mid-story, only to go on and tell the back half as if the two of them had only experienced it yesterday.

The man who had risked sacrificing all those precious memories, all of who he was for the sake of the world’s safety. For the sake of his family’s safety.

And now Bill was back, leaving that precious sacrifice nothing more than a pointless suffering for Stanley to have endured.

“I’ll figure out a way to stop Bill by myself,” he said suddenly, pulling his hand out of Mabel’s before turning to the others. “Someone’s going to need to stay up and keep an eye on him tonight anyway. I’ll use that time to come up with a plan, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”

He reached for the doorknob. “As for the rest of you, it’s late and you should be getting to bed.”

Everyone exchanged a series of unsure looks, which Stan vocalized with a: “Do you really expect the rest of us to just sleep while you deal with some all-powerful demon all night?”

“Also, do you really expect us to sleep at all with someone like that in the house?” Wendy added. “I mean, I know he’s kinda—”

She made a shrinking motion with her fingers. “—now, but this is the same guy that crawls through people’s heads like a kid in a Hoo-Ha Owl’s playplace, right?”

Ford looked to her, then the other adults with a raised eyebrow. “You said the rope had unicorn hair weaved into it?”

“Well, yeah,” Soos confirmed. “Plus we set up those moonstones, got you that mercury you needed—”

“We have a whole stash of everything in the storage room, too,” Melody added. “If you need any more of anything.”

“Then it should be enough to hold Bill in place for the night,” Ford said matter-of-factly. “And if it’s not—well, I’ll be enough to hold him in place for the night.”

Before anyone could question him further, the bedroom door was opened and shut behind him. Leaving the rest of them out in the hallway, the shrill and barely-muffled greeting of “Welcome back, Fordsy~!” in the bedroom only adding to the unsure aura surrounding them.

Despite the door being closed, Soos held up a hand to the side of his mouth. “Uh, okay! Good night, Dr. Pines!” he called. “Also if you’ve gotta shoot him, please aim the bullets away from Abuelita’s porcelain doll collection!”

Mabel finally let her arm—the one that she had kept outstretched even after Ford let go of her hand—fall back to her side with a dejected sigh. A look that Dipper immediately spotted and moved to her side to comfort her. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he said reassuringly. “Ford’s just worried about Bill, that’s all. And he probably just wants us to stay safe.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to go around makin’ himself unsafe to do that,” Stan said, pressing a hand to his head with an annoyed huff. “Is he out of his mind? What’s he thinking, dealing with all of this by himself?”

Everyone else exchanged a look. “Well, if he doesn’t want our help then…what should we do now?” Melody asked.

With a sigh, Wendy took a wide step away from the wall. “Guess we do what the doc said and try to get some sleep. Dibs on the couch as usual, by the way.”

With that, the shuffled on down the hallway, while the rest of the group silently watched her take her leave. Once she disappeared around the corner, Soos pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the hallway. “Uh, I dunno if it’ll help at all, but Melody and I sleep in the room next to Abuelita’s,” he said to Stan. “If you want, we can sleep in shifts and check in on Dr. Pines for you.”

“And if anything actually happens, one of us can come get you,” Melody added. “Leaving the other person down here to help him if he needs it.”

“Yeah!” Soos said, nodding in agreement. “If anything happens, we’ll come get you, okay?”

Stan hesitated to respond—as if the idea was anything but okay to him—but eventually he gave them a tired nod in return. “Alright, you two. Just keep an ear out for him.” 

He leaned over and placed a hand on Soos’s shoulder. “And—should I not get here quick enough to do it myself—I give you my blessing to punch the pointy little jerk in my place.”

With a look of honor, Soos pressed a hand to his forehead in a salute. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Pines! I’ll even knock out a few of his teeth if I’ve gotta!”

“Good man, Soos,” Stan said, giving his shoulder a pat. “Now get.”

With Stan’s approval, Soos gestured for Melody to follow him to their bedroom. “I’ll be the one to come get you if we need to, then,” she assured Stan as they walked. “That’ll leave Soos open for—well, that.”

And soon their bedroom door closed behind them, leaving nobody but the remaining Pines in the hallway. And with a gruff sigh and the realization that they were the only ones left, Stan turned to face the kids.

Despite the reassurances from everyone else—and even each other—they had shuffled close to one another with their attention firmly locked on to the door of Abuelita’s bedroom. As if they expected Bill to come bursting out of it at any second.

Yep, that was about what he expected.

Another sigh brought Stan to his knees, and he gave the two of them a weak smile. “Well, you two knuckleheads heard everyone. Let’s head upstairs.”

The two exchanged an uncertain look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah,” Mabel added. “I mean…it’s Bill.”

“If Ford’s so insistent on dealing with this by himself, then he’s probably got a couple of tricks up his sleeve to solve it by himself,” Stan pointed out, and reached over to lightly bap the top of Dipper’s hat. “It’s like you said, he probably just wants us to stay safe. And if he does need our help, then—well, he knows where to find us...”

Even he couldn’t bring himself to try and sound convincing by the end of his reassurances, but he gave both of them a nudge to move forwards before returning to full height. “In the meantime, let’s not give that demon the satisfaction of knowing he’s freaking all of us out and go get some rest, okay?”

After another look to each other, the younger twins eventually let themselves be lead down the hallway. Despite this, Stan counted at least three times where one of them would pause to look back towards the bedroom door, before they finally rounded the hallway corner and the room was barred from their line of sight.

The interior of the Mystery Shack had fallen silent by that point, save for the faint creaking of the wooden floor beneath their steps as they headed for and—after grabbing the bags they had dropped upon arrival—up the staircases that eventually brought them to the topmost floor of the shack.

Mere hours ago, the sight of the old attic would’ve been a nostalgic welcome back, like greeting an old friend after spending so long apart. And approaching the room at the far end would’ve been the equivalent of bringing that old friend into a warm hug.

Warm, friendly, welcoming—

But the air around the trio just felt so miserable as they slowed to a gradual stop outside the bedroom door, and Stan reached a hand to the doorknob. Rather than turn it immediately, he instead chose to direct his attention back at the kids. 

Silent attention—as if he wanted to say something, but struggled to find the proper words.

After a few, long seconds, he spoke with an uneasy: “Hey, uh, if you kids need to—you know…” The hand on the doorknob moved to the back of his head. “You gonna be alright by yourselves up here? You know you can always join Wendy in the living room, or come bunk down with me if you really need to, or something—”

The younger twins looked to each other in silent consideration, until Dipper finally spoke up: “I…think we’ll be okay,” he said, although his shaky tone implied otherwise. “If we’re really that scared, we can always sleep in shifts.”

“Yeah,” Mabel added with a bit more optimism. “And—and we’ll lock our door and window—”

An oink at the staircase drew a pointed finger from her, aimed at the pig who had ambled up the stairs after them. “—and we also have Waddles as an attack hog if we really need him! We’ll be okay!”

Her shoulders fell. “Right?”

Dipper folded his arms with a feeble nod, hands tightly gripping the sides as if he were attempting to keep himself grounded with such an action. “Yeah, we’ll…we’ll be okay.”

Stan didn’t miss this, and knelt down in front of them. “Hey, you two listen to me, alright?” he said, moving a hand to each of their shoulders. “I may not know how the little demon got back or why he’s back at all.”

The hands moved to ruffle their heads. “But what I do know is that I ain’t gonna let him lay a hand on either of you or Ford,” he reassured them. “And I don’t care how long it takes or how many times we gotta kill him before he stays dead. We’ll squash him for good if it’s the last thing we do—”

He was suddenly cut off by Mabel flinging herself at him in a tight hug, with Dipper quickly following suit. Stan remained still for a few seconds, before he wrapped an arm around each of them to complete the hug. “Alright…we’re gonna be okay, okay?”

He forced a smile as the two of them broke the hug. “And hey, look on the bright side,” he continued. “With the puny size he is now, we could probably just step on the little jerk and actually squash him to death!”

Sure enough, his weak attempt to lighten the mood brought a small pair of smiles to their faces. “We could get a pair of really big shoes,” Mabel added, smile widening further as she made a stomping motion with her foot. “Just go squish, like he’s a gross cockroach under a boot!”

“Are you implying that he’s not a gross cockroach already?” Dipper asked with a weak laugh.

“Touché, but I like painting a clear, visual picture of my words,” Mabel explained. “It’s almost as fun as painting an actual picture! Ooh, I wonder if I should paint an actual picture of Bill with a cockroach body—?”

“Save that for tomorrow,” Stan said. “Right now, you two need to get some rest. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to, and I ain’t gonna let you kids miss a second of it.”

He gave them a wink. “Even with a sudden triangle-shaped cockroach thrown into the mix.”

Both gave him a smile—much wider than before—in return before finally shuffling to the door and pulled it open, revealing the waiting bedroom on the other side.

Aside from a lack of almost any dust on the furniture—had that been Soos and Melody’s doing?—the bedroom had remained mostly untouched since the previous summer. A few scattered googly eyes rested on the floor beside a forgotten food bowl for Waddles on Mabel’s side of the room, while several crumpled pieces of paper still filled Dipper’s old wastebasket.

And while uncertainty and fear still lingered in the air as the kids stepped inside, a bit of that old, nostalgic warmth did seem to be sneaking its way around them in a reassuring embrace. A reassurance that despite the evening’s stress, this was still a place they could call a home away from home.

After one last little smile at Stan—one he returned in full—Mabel shut the door behind them. Stan continued to wordlessly stare at the door for a few minutes, attention focused on the clicking of the lock, then the creaking of the wooden floor on the other side.

When he was sure the sound had reached their beds, he finally turned and shuffled back towards—then down—the staircase, continuing onwards down the hall on the second floor until he reached the door to his own bedroom.

It was only once his hand touched the doorknob that his entire posture sank from exhaustion.

His hand once again lingered for a moment as he looked back towards the staircase that lead downstairs—before he shook his head and trudged on forward into the bedroom.

— — — — — — — — 

It was barely an hour later when Stan firmly concluded that he was not falling asleep anytime soon.

How in the heck was he supposed to sleep at a time like this? Bill was back! The evil triangle demon that had tried to take over the town—town? Universe?—and had haunted his brother’s mind for literal decades!

Ford had always downplayed how much weight Bill truly held over his mind, always reassuring Stan that he was fine whenever the topic came up in conversation and was always quick to change the subject to something unrelated. 

But if Ford really thought the guy who slept in the same cabin as him for months on end wouldn’t notice him crying out in his sleep—the names Bill, Cipher or both being shouted into his pillow with so much hatred and fear more times than Stan could count—then Stan had a bridge to sell him.

And if he really thought that he hadn’t picked up on the subtle little ways Ford would flinch or the way his mood would shift on occasion—probably due to some unearthed memories about Bill, ones that Stan so desperately wished he could just punch as hard as the guy who had burned them into his brother’s mind—then Stan had two bridges to sell him.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

With a grunt, Stan rolled over onto his back and squinted blindly at the ceiling. He didn’t trust the pointy little jerk as far as he could throw him but he’d raised a good point. What right did he have to stand—lie around and call Ford an idiot for not wanting to talk about Bill, especially when he’d been the one in charge of getting rid of Bill in the first place?

He felt his thoughts drift to the earlier events of the day, before all the Bill stuff had started. Soos’s wedding announcement, the tour of the new exhibits—

“The very weird point they’re to make is that none of this would’ve happened without you building the shack to begin with, Grunkle Ford. So in a way, a lot of this is because of you!”

“Well, we kinda have you to thank for the idea, Dr. Pines. You and the kids, of course.”

It didn’t bother him. 

Really, it didn’t.

So what if Soos wanted to give Ford the credit for tying the knot with the girl he liked, or for giving them the smart-guy science methods to make the exhibits more exciting? Even if Ford was terrible at hiding his Bill feelings, at the very least he’d seemed pretty flattered by all the praise. 

He’d felt appreciated, nostalgic over the new, science-y ways that Soos and Melody were bringing in customers. The kids were excited to be spending time with him this year.

Ford felt like he belonged.

What kind of jerk would Stan be to take that happiness away from him, especially after all the years that had been taken from him already?

At at the end of the day, it didn’t matter if people slapped Ford’s name over every single one of his own accomplishments. Honestly, after stealing his identity for three decades, Stan would willingly give up a few of his own accord if it made Ford happy.

If Soos wanted to give Ford credit for building the place that inevitably lead him to his fiancé—even if Stan had been the one running the place when Soos started working here—then fine. If him and the kids wanted to give Ford credit for the exhibit ideas—exhibits that were wildly improved from the two-bit slop Stan had been pushing for the past few decades—then fine.

It was fine.

But if there was one accomplishment that Stan thought nobody could take away from him, it was the ability to keep his family safe. Not just them, but Soos, Wendy—the entire town. They had all called him a hero, finally saw him as someone worth a darn—

At the end of the day, he had finally proven he was worth something to someone.

And then Bill came back, alive and unharmed. Stan had failed to kill him good and proper, and now he was back.

Now he was back, and now Ford and the kids had to spend their summer in fear.

Now he was back, and Stan was truly worthless again.

After staring at the ceiling for about ten more minutes—and waiting another ten minutes for his nightly body aches to settle—he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And with the groan of a man whose bones were older than he was, he pulled himself to his feet, trudged out of the room and headed down to the first floor of the shack. 

The light of the TV stopped him at the living room doorway, and a quick peek into the room revealed that he wasn’t the only resident of the house who was still awake.

Despite the TV running some early morning infomercial for a cheap and useless product—one worth more than its share of that hyper-specific brand of scorn and mockery that only a snarky teenager could provide—Wendy’s attention was firmly glued to her phone as she tapped away at the keys.

At the sight of Stan in the doorway, however, she lifted her head with a curious look. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Whaddaya mean? Clearly I’m sleepwalkin’.”

“Haha,” she said, snapping her phone shut. “Gonna try again with Dr. Pines?”

“You know it,” Stan said, and placed a hand on the doorway frame. “You, uh—you holdin’ up okay out here?”

“Psh, don’t even start,” Wendy said, waving him away. “I mean, sure, I’ve got my share of worries about that little megalomaniac being back—”

She flashed him a grin. “—buuuut I think a lot of ‘em were pretty evened out by the fact that I got to clunk him in the back of the head with a bat!”

“Oh yeah, that was great,” Stan agreed with a smirk of his own, before pressing his hands together in a squishing motion. “Isn’t it soooo satisfying? The little jerk talks suuuuuuch a big game, but you hit him once and he crunches like a soda can.”

Wendy cackled at that, although her expression fell again as she cast a glance upwards. “How’re the squirts handling it?”

Stan followed her gaze up to the ceiling. “Well, they’ve stayed in their room so far, so my money’s on ‘probably as well as they can with somethin’ like this.’”

“Mmm…”

She flipped her phone back open, fingers once again tapping at the keys. “At least they’ve got each other through all this,” she mused. “The two of them combined are some of the toughest and strongest kids I’ve ever met. No matter what happens, they’ll get through it so long as they stick together.”

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, with a glance back towards the hallway. “At least they’ve got that goin’ for them…”

Both fell silent for a moment, before Stan turned to leave. “If you hear any yellin’ going on down the hall, it’s because I’m trying to convince Ford to go to bed,” he told her. “If I succeed, make sure he actually goes up to bed, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

— — — — — — — —

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pencil to paper as Ford continued to write. 

Not for a lack of trying on Bill’s part; he had made several attempts to strike up a conversation with Ford already, but all had been shot down by either a menacing glare or the flash of the gun he kept within reaching distance.

And while neither were enough to completely shut Bill up, he did fall silent after the dozenth-or-so attempt to take advantage of the chance to gather his thoughts.

He’d agreed to play a game with that stupid duck and they’d plunked him back down in front of the shack. He assumed it had been right in front of the shack, at least; he did recall being greeted by the concerned faces of Mabel and Ford, along with some faint, blurry remarks about how he’d potentially fallen out of a tree—

—thank you, Birdbrain—

—but there was always a chance that they had stumbled across his body somewhere else and simply brought him to the shack to keep a closer eye on him. 

Regardless of how it had happened or wherever those suckers had originally found him, he was back in town as Tangy had promised. Sure, it had been a sneaky drop off with several details of what that drop off entailed omitted. But at the same time, they had still kept their word.

And while Bill still had plans to dunk that silly little windbreaker of theirs in tuna fish—perhaps with the added flair of tossing in a bottle of itching powder, Melt-Your-Skin-Clean-Off-Your-Bones-Juice, and maybe a splash of lime for taste—he could at least respect how much effort they had put into getting him here at all.

Planned retribution aside…eh, game could recognize game.

And speaking of game—

His thoughts shifted to the deal they had agreed upon, sealed with both a handshake and a signature. Three months, they’d said. He had exactly three months to play. Three months to find all the pieces of their dumb trinket and put it all back together again, Humpty-Dumpty style.

He briefly considered the idea of not playing their game at all—out of sheer spite for their deviousness in getting him here—but the idea was discarded as quickly as it formed. Despite their underhanded methods to get him back to town, they had been very clear about how strictly they had to stick to their contract. And even if they’d been lying about the legitimacy of said contract, they had still foolishly locked themselves into a deal with Bill himself.

Whether or not they truly planned on upholding themselves to their side of their deal didn’t matter—if he won their little game, Bill would either have a destroyed barrier or a duck subjected to an eternity of slow-roasting over an over fire in the Nightmare Realm. Maybe in the case of the second option, such torture directed at another being would be enough to get his buddies off his back when he returned.

Heck, maybe he’d even get a spiffy new jacket out of the deal!

And that was simply the worst case scenario. Best case scenario, the barrier would be gone and no one would be able to stand in his way ever again.

And a prize that valuable was enough for him to humor the tacky idiot and romp around an annoyingly-familiar hick town in a meatsuit for a summer.

Even with his current situation, escaping wouldn’t be a difficult task to accomplish. Sure, he was tied so tightly to a chair that it would make Harry Houdini blush—he would know, he dabbled in a bit of dealmaking with the famous magician back during the height of his career—and the ropes apparently contained some of that fancy-schmancy unicorn magic that the household had used to protect the shack last year.

A fact that soured Bill’s expression for a brief moment, but at the end of the day, even a magically-laced rope was still just a rope. And any rope could be cut with the right tool, or by the right sucker.

The sound of paper being ripped from a notebook distracted Bill from his thoughts, and a mischievous grin poked at the corners of his mouth as he cast a look in the direction of his six-fingered warden—just as the discarded page was crumpled into a ball and tossed it into the unlit fireplace.

Well, a sucker by any other year was just as gullible—or whatever.

Sure, Bill knew Stanford Pines would rather chew off his own extra fingers than be unpromptedly helpful to him in any way, shape or form. But even if a few details about the bigger picture had to be omitted—it wouldn’t be the first time when it came to Stanford—there were always ways for Bill to get people to do what he wanted.

The scratching of pencil to paper began again, and Bill lightly tugged against the binds that held his wrists. Well, while there were always ways to get people to do what he wanted, even he knew it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to trick Ford into freeing him tonight. And the near-silence of the room was starting to become agonizingly dull. 

To reiterate an earlier point, Bill Cipher was not the kind of triangle to sit and behave quietly if he had any say in the matter. Even if Ford was attempting to keep a lid on things now, there was always a way to annoy him into tossing out a few bits and pieces of information he had gathered in Bill’s absence. Perhaps some of that information would be of use to him.

Or maybe he would only succeed in getting the gun shoved in his cheek again.

Either way, the fifteenth attempt at starting a conversation was always the charm~!

“You know,” he began with a light kick of his feet. “I’m surprised you haven’t bombarded me with questions about how I got back yet.”

He saw Ford’s hand twitch in the direction of the gun, keeping his attention still firmly focused on his writing. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to, Fordsy!” Bill continued. “You and I both know for a fact that you’re a man beckoned by the call of the strange and bizarre.”

He winked at him with his good eye. “And let’s not kid ourselves; I’m the strangest and bizarre-est guy you know~!”

Another kick of his feet, his feet lightly bouncing against the chair legs. “Even if I no longer have access to your mind, I can tell you’ve got a billion questions about me buzzing around in that lump of wet meat you call a brain,” he continued. “Questions like ‘How did he get back?’ ‘Why is he human now?’ ‘Why, oh, why did I think that a simple memory gun would be enough to defeat someone as powerful, as amazing, as unstoppable as Bill Cipher?’”

Ford’s hand inched closer to the gun as Bill kept talking: “You must’ve felt so proud of yourself for that memory gun trick, by the way,” he went on. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, it was a smart move that only a brainiac like you could’ve drummed up in the short time you had.”

A wink. “Well, lucky for you I’m not the kinda triangle to hold a grudge,” he continued. “In fact, I’d even be willing to answer a couple of those hypothetical questions for you! And to call us even, you can always just answer a couple of mine in return. Like what you’ve been up to in the past nine months~! Come on, I’ll bet you’re just dying to tell me all about how you grew that beard of yours!”

The hand wrapped around the grip, and Bill settled lower in the chair with a sigh. “Fine, I guess it was too much to hope for a chance to catch up with an old friend,” he said with a dramatic flair to his tone—

—one that immediately shifted into something far more malevolent. “But then again, I guess I wouldn’t find any of those around here, now would I?”

Bill paused, giving Ford him a few seconds to chime in—only to roll his eyes when he heard a click from the gun as Ford turned off the safety catch: “Oh, come on, Stanford, are you really telling me that you’d rather spend the entire night alone with your thoughts than to spend five minutes holding a conversation with me?”

“Yes.”

It was the first word, sans any threats, he’d managed to get out of Ford all night, and it was annoying enough for Bill to sink further against his restraints with a huff.

Not a defeated huff; if a stubborn, old fool not giving him what he wanted was enough to stop Bill Cipher, then he wouldn’t be Bill Cipher. If he’d possessed enough patience to wait eons for a functioning portal, then he could certainly possess enough to get a few words outta Ford over the course of a single evening.

And as soon as Ford stopped being so difficult—you couldn’t avoid talking all night, Sixer—he'd be in business.

The distant sound of floorboards creaking somewhere on the other side of the shack perked Bill up again with a look towards the ceiling. Guess the rest of the household was fighting back the urge to sleep with a stick.

The sudden lack of pencil to paper also caught his attention, gaze bouncing back to where Ford was seated. He hadn’t moved, but Bill could still see the pupils of his sunken-in eyes shift towards the door with mild curiosity.

Mild curiosity that vanished the second he realized Bill was watching him, and his focus immediately returning to his notes after clicking the safety back and leaving the gun where it rested.

Hmm.

“Fine, you don’t wanna talk about what you’ve been up to for the past few months?” he tried again. “Fair enough, I really didn’t wanna hear about it. Why don’t we talk about about something else, then? Like the kids, perhaps?”

The hand was back at the gun without pause. 

“They’re looking well, older even. Or do they?—I’m still fuzzy on the details of the aging process of you mortals,” Bill continued. “Or if you don’t wanna talk about them, we could always talk about your brother. Can’t believe he’s still wildly swinging those fists around like a wild animal, especially when that didn’t even work the first time—”

The gun was ignored completely as Ford crossed the room in an instant, the vitriol behind his eyes hot enough to burn straight through Bill’s skin, blood, skull—his everything, until it bore a hole right through to the other side of his head.

A motion that made Bill jump against his better judgment—his blackened eye instinctively twitching as he remembered Stan’s earlier show of force—and for a fleeting moment, he expected another hand around his throat in seconds.

Before Ford could react proper, however, a loud knock pulled both of their attention to the bedroom door. After a silent breath of relief, Bill shot Ford a cheeky grin. “Sounds like you’ve got company~! Unless they’re here to see me, which—I mean, who could blame them if they were?”

Ford glared at him before turning back to the door. “Who is it?”

“Jersey Devil. Who d’you think it is?”

“...Come on in.”

The knob turned and Stan slowly entered the room, casting a silent look between the two of them before settling his gaze on Ford. “Just checkin’ in. How’s, uh—” he began, then paused. “—how’s everything going?”

He was clearly talking to Ford, and making an obvious effort to ignore the triangle-shaped elephant in the room. So naturally, Bill had to do everything in his power to make his presence as loud and obvious as possible.

“Everything’s peachy~!” he piped up, with another wiggle against his binds. “Ol’ Fordsy and I are having the time of our lives catching up on things! In fact, I think he was just about to tell me about what the kids have been up to for the past few months?”

He flashed Ford a wide grin. “Come on, Ford, I’ll bet they’ve shared a ton of stories with you~!”

Stan pointed a finger at him. “Hey, you’d better watch that mouth of yours, before I come over there and make it match your eyeball.”

“What, you’re gonna punch it?” Bill asked. “Go right ahead, I was just lamenting the fact that my mouth and eyeball are separated in this body.”

He giggled mischievously and flashed him a wide grin. “Your fist’s about the size of a mouth-sized eyeball, right? Just asking, because the second you swing it at these puppies—” He gave a warning snap of his teeth. “—I can’t promise that you’ll get it back.”

“Everything’s fine, Stanley. Go get some sleep.”

Ford’s tone was so scripted and hollow, like the words he actually wanted to say were being held back by a metric ton of steel. More than just the physical steel plate installed in his head, a whole dam of metaphorical steel was keeping the flood of Ford’s true thoughts at bay.

And judging by the way Stan’s features twisted with uncertainty at his brother’s words—only until he spotted Bill eyeing him and promptly shifted his expression into a look of disdain—there was clearly something keeping his own thoughts hidden as well.

Oh, it killed Bill to not know what they were thinking. To lack the ability to act as the metaphorical wrecking ball that could smash through all that steel in an instant, leaving him free to pry open every last little thought, rivet by rivet, bolt by bolt.

Well, at least he still possessed the ability to verbally taunt them~! “You heard the big guy, Goldfish~! Why don’t you run on back to bed while the adults talk?”

“Why you little—” Stan began, then paused with a look of confusion. “Goldfish, what—”

“Your sign in the Zodiac Wheel,” Bill elaborated. “You know—that little goldfish thing on your hat! Although I guess it could also be a reference to your constant desperation for fortune and fame, combined with your childish dream of dragging Sixer off on some ridiculous, insignificant boat adventure. You know, first part’s the gold, second part’s the fish?”

He tilted his head. “Of course, I could always call you Fez instead, but that just sounds silly. It’d be like calling Question Mark Shirt or Pine Tree…I dunno, Other Hat? Hmm, kinda like that, actually.”

“...Welp, that one’s on me for asking,” Stan said, and promptly turned his attention back to Ford. “I did need you for something, though. Apparently Soos found a few more moonstones that he said we should lay out in the hall—”

“Well, feel free to lay them there,” Ford said, making his way back to his chair. “One at each corner, evenly spaced…Probably a smart idea to stick one at the end of the hallway for good measure—”

“I really think we need your help with it,” Stan urged.

“Not if you follow my instructions.”

Bill’s eyebrows shot as far up his forehead as they could get, expression lighting up with sadistic glee. Oh, oh—they were fighting~! “Aww, I’m back for five minutes and you two are already at each other’s throats again!” he said with a mirthy twinkle in his eye. “Man, even after all this time, you Pines Twins still can’t get along!”

He began to rock back and forth in the chair with delight. “Come on, punch each other in the face!” he demanded excitedly. “Give Sixer a black eye that looks worse than mine!”

He stopped rocking for a moment, and cast a look down at the chair. “Man, I forgot that you mortals haven’t evolved to the point where you can hear the voices of inanimate objects,” he said. “I can’t even hear just how much this chair is probably screaming from the way I’ve been rocking it back and forth.”

With a cackle, he proceeded to rock back and forth even harder. “Hehe, I’ll bet the guy’s absolutely livid right now—ACK!”

The chair suddenly tipped over and crashed—Bill and all—to the floor with a loud clatter. With his limbs too restrained to catch himself in any dignified fashion, Bill quickly found himself with his face squished into the lavender rug near Abuelita’s bed. 

Both Ford and Stan stared at him for a moment, their disagreement temporarily forgotten at Bill’s misfortune. However, Stan snapped back to reality first and took advantage of the other two being distracted long enough to pull Ford towards the door and out into the hallway.

Bill barely had time to bark out an irritated: “Hey, get back here and pick me up!” before the door was pulled shut behind them. With a irritable huff, he attempted to rock the chair again in the hopes of adjusting to a more comfortable angle.

And after a moment of struggling, he finally succeeded in rolling the chair onto its—and by extension, his—back. Leaving him completely flat on the floor with his gaze pointed upwards at the ceiling.

Well, at least this angle was more familiar.

— — — — — — —

“Stanley, I said—”

“I know what you said,” Stan replied, closing the door shut behind them. “But you know I’m gonna try and make you sleep tonight, right?”

“And you know I’m not going to do that, right?”

“Ford—”

“How on Earth am I supposed to sleep with Bill still alive?!” 

It was like something had finally crashed right on through whatever wall Ford had built up in his mind, the stress he had tried desperately to repress all evening spilling out of him in an instant. “The memory gun should’ve worked,” he muttered in a panicked tone. “It…it destroyed everything in your mind, right?”

“Well, yeah, everything—” Stan began. “But—”

“There had to have been something he did, something that protected him,” Ford rambled on, mostly to himself. “Was it a spell? Some kind of failsafe? Did he catch onto our plan—”

“Woah, woah, hey, just breathe for a sec,” Stan interrupted. “Yeah, this is exactly why you’ve gotta let someone else babysit the little jerk while you get some sleep. You’re not gonna get anywhere if you’re too tired to think straight.”

And maybe if Ford got some sleep, he could shift some of the burden to Stan’s shoulders where it belonged. Yeesh, the poor guy had really been holding back earlier. Had he really been this stressed all evening?

…As if Stan needed to ask.

“You’d be surprised at what I can accomplish during an all-nighter,” Ford assured him. “Back in my college days, I once started a twenty-thousand-word essay at ten in the evening, and had it on the professor’s desk by six the next morning.”

He pressed a hand to his forehead. “And when you first arrived here to help me hide the journals, I believe was on my fourth consecutive day of staying awake.”

“Fourth?!” Stan sputtered in disbelief, before he shook his head. “No, no, just gonna ignore that for now—it’s not like I got any room to talk when it comes to bad sleep schedules. But also you are not staying up four days to deal with this by yourself.”

He reached over to place a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Come on, Stanford, let me help you,” he urged. “At least go get an hour of sleep. I’ll stay down here, keep him quiet—heck, I’ll duct tape his mouth shut if he gets too mouthy with me.”

He balled his free hand into a fist and thumped it against his own chest. “Let me help you put that pointy jerk twenty feet back under the ground, and make it stick this time!”

Ford’s eyes fell to the hand on his shoulder and followed it up to the desperation in his brother’s features.

An expression near identical to the one he had worn after being blasted by the memory gun. Confusion mixed with a desire to understand…

It was like they were back in that clearing in the woods, the natural warmth of the sun draping itself back over the town, after the blood-red skies of Weirdmageddon had barred it from sight for so long. Stanley kneeling in front of him and the kids in a dazed trance, no recollection of whom he was or the sacrifices he had just made.

All of which he had assured Ford was worth the risk while they swapped clothes back in the Fearamid, beneath the wretched tapestries of the remaining Zodiac members, an ear perked on both ends for Bill’s thundering footsteps reapproaching the main room.

But had it been? Had it been worth the risk?

Up until Mabel’s scrapbook method, they had no way of knowing that Stanley would’ve been able to return to his usual self. And as far as they knew, that cure only worked when presented with the memory gun’s effects.

What if Stanley got involved again, only for something worse to happen to him than lost memories? What if he couldn’t simply be scrapbooked and home movie’d back to his usual self again this time around?

What if—

“Yeah, well, if they keep on bein’ that thrilled, you’re gonna have to bust out that necromancy spell to talk to me.”

“I’ve made up my mind, Stanley,” Ford said, and turned back to the door. “You go get some sleep.”

“Wh—Ford!”

His brother’s name fell on deaf ears as Ford promptly open and shut the door behind him. Stan continued to stare at the closed door, too dumbfounded to properly react. 

Ford really didn’t want his help with Bill? He could understand sending everyone off to bed earlier, but he was still turning down his help when it was just the two of them?

He raised a hand to the doorknob, the temptation to try and properly sway Ford into letting him help rising in his chest—

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice from the other bedroom in the hallway, and he turned to see Soos standing in the doorway. “Everything alright? …I don’t have to punch anyone yet, do I?”

With an exhale, Stan forced his hand back to his side again. “Yeesh, Soos, don’t sneak up on me like that or I’m gonna be the one who starts swinging. But nah, everything’s fine. Just thought I check in on Ford, is all.”

“Alright,” Soos said with a small smile as he held up a fist of his own. “But I swear, I will throw a punch if I need to! I made a promise, after all.”

He paused, and switched the fist to another hand. “Although maybe I should use this hand,” he said thoughtfully. “Don’t wanna accidentally break my Shack-Brochure-and-Fanfic-Writing hand on his face, you know what I mean?”

He swapped back to the first. “Although it’s probably better to use your dominant hand to punch—”

“Go to bed, Soos.”

“You got it, Mr. Pines!”

He shut the door, leaving Stan once again by himself in the quiet hallway.

Stan cast a look back to the door in front of him, his hand moving towards the doorknob again.

The same way it had when Ford had called him to the shack all those years ago, eyes bloodshot and features sunken from a lack of sleep—four days, Ford?!—and he’d showed up without a second thought to help.

Despite all the time they had spent apart, Ford had relied on him enough to seek out his help. Despite everything, Stan had still held some worth in his brother’s eyes.

And how had Stan proven that worth to his brother?

By tossing him through some massive, otherworldly portal for thirty years, stealing his identity, and ruining his life.

By getting huffy over a simple thank you and nearly dooming the entire universe.

“But then again, you might have a little trouble convincing him. Considering your poor track record in fixing mistakes.”

By not doing the one thing that had actually granted him worth, and killing that stupid demon proper.

He slammed his hand back down to his side again in a balled fist, and headed back down the hallway.

Forget it, he’d try again tomorrow.

— — — — — — —

“So, how’d the fight go~?”

Not even Bill’s shrill tauntings could pull Ford out of his determined state as he returned to his chair and notebook, the tip of his pencil once again dancing across the paper with incredible speed.

From the floor where he’d fallen earlier, Bill cast him a sour look. “Oh, real mature, Sixer. You’re really not going to pick me up?”

Ford’s hand clenched tighter around the pencil as he went to scratch out his latest idea—one that joined the dozen other scribbled-out ideas above it—before moving down to the next empty row on the paper and starting again—

“Uh, hello? Stanford? I’m talking to you!”

Talk then, you vile little demon.

The tip of the pencil snapped and Ford was unable to bite back his frustrated grunt of surprise. Right on cue, a cackle started from the floor as he reached for a pencil sharpener. “Hehe, I heard that~!” Bill chimed in a singsong voice. “Guess we know who lost the fight, eh, Grumpypants~?”

Ford paid him no mind as he quickly sharpened the pencil back into a point and returned to his work with that fierce determination from before.

No matter how many scribbled-out ideas he had to toss into the fireplace, he was going to find a solution to this problem.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much he had to verbally endure at Bill’s hand again—

—he would make certain that his brother’s sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

“...Okay, seriously, are you going to leave me down here all night?”

— — — — — — — —

Mabel couldn’t sleep.

Ever since she’d settled into bed—a snoozing Waddles curled up at her side—her eyes had stayed glued to the ceiling. At first she’d tried distracting herself by holding mental conversations with the mold spots permanently stained into the old wood, but not even Daryl could lift her spirits at a time like this.

Every few minutes, her gaze would move to the bed across the room, a question lingering on her tongue for a moment before she returned her attention to the ceiling.

It was around midnight before she finally vocalized her lingering question with a quiet: “You awake, Dipper?”

Her answer immediately came in the form of blankets shuffling as Dipper rolled over to face her. “Of course I am.”

She rolled over to face him proper as well, both pairs of eyes shifting to the triangular window of their room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its beams of light shining through the glass and illuminating the floor in a way that would normally be comforting.

Tonight, however, the sight of an eye-shaped object through the triangular frame was just a painful reminder of what waited for them just a few rooms below.

“I can’t believe he’s back…”

Dipper turned his gaze from the moonlight and back to his sister at the sound of her voice. “Did you see Grunkle Ford?” she asked quietly. “He was so scared…”

“I don’t blame him,” Dipper admitted, placing a hand to his forehead. “We went through all of that trouble to kill Bill, and it didn’t even work.”

He slid the hand down to cover his eyes, but immediately lifted it again to peek over at her. “Hey, you saw it, right? How much he looked like me…”

There was more shuffling—this time on Mabel’s end—as she sat up in bed completely. “It was like when I saw him during the puppet show,” she said, pulling her legs to her chest. “Except the hair and eyes were different this time around. His left eye wasn’t all—”

She covered her own left eye with one hand. “His hair color’s different this time, too. I wonder why?”

“Who knows?” Dipper said with a shrug. “Although I guess meeting—or re-meeting a guy who looks like me isn’t the weirdest thing to happen in this town, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mabel agreed. “Still…why’d it have to be that guy? Why does he have to ruin everything?”

A sad hum escaped her as she hugged her knees close. “So much for getting to spend more time with Grunkle Ford this summer…”

Dipper let his arm fall before he sat up in bed. “Hey, come on, you really think it’s gonna take all summer for Grunkle Ford to get rid of Bill?” he asked. “He’s spent the last thirty years traversing the Multiverse! He’s explored more dimensions than we could probably even think of on our own—dimensions where everyone lives underwater, dimensions ruled by talking robotic octopi—”

When Mabel plopped sadly back against her pillow again, Dipper paused for a moment to think. “—dimension where the air is made of cotton candy instead of oxygen?”

As he’d expected, the concept twitched the corners of her mouth with mild amusement. “Ugh, I’ll bet that dimension is soooo tasty,” she said. “I wonder what they do when it rains, though? All the cotton candy would just melt and then they’d have no air—ooh, I’ll bet they have like, a ga-ZILLION of those cotton candy-making machines ready for when that happens!”

“Anything’s possible in the Multiverse,” Dipper said with a nod. “My point is that Grunkle Ford’s been around, and he’s probably picked up a lot of different ways to get rid of Bill! Even if the methods he’s tried already didn’t work—and even if we can’t use stuff like the Zodiac or his Quantum Destabilizer—I’m sure he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And if none of those work, we could always come up with some ideas for him! Like—like—”

She flumped her arms across her blanket with an exasperated huff. “Well, I’m too tired to think of anything now, but I’m sure we could think of something!” she said, scrunching her face in concentration. “What if we…I dunno—”

“Oooh!” Dipper snapped his fingers with inspiration. “What if we got one of those time travel devices, strapped one to Bill, and then rocketed him to a date so far into the future that he’d never be able to get back to our time?”

Mabel pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle, but her amusement faded almost immediately. “Nah, that wouldn’t work. He could always trick and possess someone super far in the future, and they could help him get back here,” she pointed out. “Like what he did with that Blendin guy, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…”

The two fell silent again, the only noise that could be heard was the gentle summer wind rustling the forest outside their window. “We should probably sleep for real,” Dipper finally said. “We can just…do what we told Grunkle Stan we were going to do and take shifts, right?”

“Well then, you sleep first,” Mabel said, once again in an upright position as she reached over to pull Waddles close to her. “And like I said I was gonna do, I’ll let Waddles stay on your side and be your guard hog while you sleep.”

Waddles followed up her remark with a groggy little oink of reassurance, and Dipper let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and what’s he gonna do if Bill pops up in my dream?”

“I mean, you can always dream up a dream Waddles to eat him,” Mabel suggested. “He looks like a corn chip, right? I’ll bet dream corn chips taste just as good as real ones!”

She plapped a hand against the top of Waddles’ head. “Plus then when you wake up, you’ll have the real Waddles right there to comfort you!”

This got a full-on laugh out of Dipper. “Alright, alright, point made. Send him over.”

Mabel leaned over the side of the bed and gently set Waddles to the floor, giving his little rump an encouraging pat. “Go on, boy! Go protect Dipper from the dream nacho!”

With another tired little oink, he ambled on over to Dipper’s side of the bedroom and oinked up at him for assistance. “Go ahead and set an alarm on your phone, Mabel,” Dipper said, and reached down to pull him up onto his bed. “What should we set it to? An hour? Hour-and-a-half?”

“An hour works for me,” Mabel said. “But if you don’t actually sleep for that hour, I will not hesitate to stay up longer out of spite!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sleeping…”

Dipper settled back down under the covers while Waddles snuggled up next to him, and it wasn’t until Mabel heard Dipper’s light snoring that she finally dared to tear her gaze from him and reach for her phone.

That was good. At the very least, he’d be getting some sleep tonight.

She looked to the window again—the moonlight still faintly illuminating the darkened room—and crawled out of bed to stare outside properly. Despite the tall trees that surrounded the shack on all sides, there was little to block the ocean of stars that painted the night sky.

After staring for a bit, she turned and crawled back into her bed. With another look at her brother to make sure he was still asleep, she dug her hand between the mattress and wall, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips in determination as she fumbled around for the unseen object she sought so desperately.

She knew it was a longshot that it would’ve remained in the same place for nine months—given the dustless state of their room, Soos would’ve been the most likely candidate to find it if he searched-slash-cleaned hard enough—but eventually her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it out to investigate.

It was an old, dusty piece of paper, the same one she had crumpled and tucked in its hiding spot almost a full year ago. The edges were frayed and torn and the tint of the paper was a sicklier yellow than she remembered—but the jagged writing on the front was still just as legible as the day she’d found it in Stan’s car:

“Note to self: Possessing people is hilarious! To think of all the sensations I’ve been missing out on—burning, stabbing, drowning. It’s like a buffet tray of fun! Once I destroy that journal, I’ll enjoy giving this body its grand finale—by throwing it off the water tower! Best of all, people will just think Pine Tree lost his mind, and his mental form will wander in the mindscape forever. Want to join him, Shooting Star?”

Mabel stared hard at the paper for what felt like an hour—although in reality, it was probably no longer than a few minutes. She read and reread several times over, every cruel word like a knife to her vision and gut, before finally crumpling the paper in an angry fist and shoving it back down between the wall and her mattress where it belonged.

She settled back against her pillow again, and turned back to Dipper’s bed. Still fast asleep, with nothing more than the occasional twitch or shift in place.

He was sleeping, supposedly without nightmares. That was all that mattered.

She continued to stare at him until the sight made her drowsy, before turning her attention back to the various mold spots on the ceiling.

Daryl was going to have to work overtime tonight if he really wanted to lift her spirits.

#Hayley Writes Triangulum #Gravity Falls #Triangulum The Fic #Bill Cipher #Stanford Pines #My Writing #Long Post #(More characters in the chapter; they are just tagged for the art) #(Stan and Mabel get some decent screentime in this chapter as well)

[nikolaiismysugardaddy]

For scientific purposes // Tetchou Suehiro x reader | | | NSFW

pairings... Tetchou Suehiro x Reader

contains...! smut! fem!reader, alcohol, kissing, biting, edging, oral(fem!receiving), slightly dom!tetchou, dirty talk

AFAB reader

I apologize for any mistakes in advance - english is not my first language!

Hope you enjoy! xx

Note: it's pure fluff until the 3rd divider - so if you're underage but want to read it, it's fine until that point.

4,9k words

The night was colder than you expected it to be when you were getting ready for a night out with your friends. You were outside the bar waiting for them, with your hands wrapped around your chest, trying to warm yourself up a little bit. The street was pretty crowded, even though it was Thursday. You noticed people bustling about, their breath visible in the chilly air. The sound of laughter and music filled the night, creating a lively atmosphere.

“Aren’t you cold outside?” A voice from behind asked. Without even turning around, you shook your head, even though your legs were already shaking from the cold. You heard the door closing behind you, so you let out a relieved sigh from your mouth. This happened a lot before, when drunk guys tried to hit on you while you were waiting or smoking outside. You knew better than to engage with them, but it still made you uneasy every time. And yet you still felt the stranger’s eyes on your back, like small knives being stabbed into it. 

You hugged yourself tighter as a few minutes went by; maybe it was a bad idea to arrive this early. You glanced at your watch, realizing you still had a while before your friends were supposed to arrive. The door opened again, and a tall figure stepped out into the dimly lit street. Despite your best efforts, curiosity gnawed at you, tempting you to steal a glance, but you resisted the urge.

“Um, I don’t mean to bother you or anything, really, but it’s obvious that you’re not dressed for the weather, and I noticed you shivering earlier.” suddenly, something warm and soft was placed on your shoulder –a hoodie. Abruptly, you turned around just to face a muscular chest cloaked in a black windbreaker. The whole act took you by surprise, and it was written all over your face. The stranger chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You can return it later.” His voice was deep and warm, like spring air lingering all around you. Without catching a glimpse of his face, he turned around and reached for the doorknob. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected act of kindness. Curiosity sparked within you, and found yourself wanting to know more about this mysterious individual. 

“Hey, wait a minute!” You hastily grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him from leaving. In the very same moment, embarrassment rushed over you, and you felt your cheeks getting warmer. He turned back toward you and looked directly into your eyes. Your jaws almost dropped to the floor as you got the chance to see his face up close. The words you wanted to say the moment before just didn’t come out of your mouth as confidently as you wanted them to. “L-let me buy you a drink a-at least. As a thank you.” He just looked so dreamy, even in this dim light, that you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

He looked surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing in a way that made your heart skip a beat. 

“No, no, I gave you that without any interior motive.” His smile was soothing, like the full moon in the clear sky. It was bright, but there was something mysterious about it that made you want to know more about him. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person he was, with such a genuine and enigmatic smile.

“But—“ you started to say, but he interrupted you with a wave of his hand.

“Please, it just happened that I had a spare one with me. You can return it later or anything, but don’t feel any pressure.” He said with a voice as smooth as velvet, and scratched his neck in a casual, nonchalant manner. 

“Fine, I don’t want to pressure you either.” You looked down at his shoes, trying to hide your flushed cheeks. 

You heard the door clicking as he opened it, but before he stepped inside, he gently patted your shoulder. Your whole body was frozen with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Your mind couldn’t process the whole thing that just happened. As the door closed behind him, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Before you got the hoodie on, you grabbed it on your shoulder like your life depended on it, feeling the warmth and comfort it provided. It was so big, it almost reached your knees. All of a sudden, the fragrance crawled inside your nose: a mixture of sandalwood and vanilla. You looked around the street, but your friends were still nowhere to be found. 

I’ll be inside the bar, crackheads. Both of you owe me a drink when you arrive. You sent the message in the group chat, then rushed inside, maybe a little too fast. The place was more crowded than you expected, and it was a pretty hard task to find the mysterious guy in there. You scanned the faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of him amidst the sea of strangers. A quiet sigh left your mouth before you headed to the counter. You were wondering what to get for him as you stood in line, contemplating whether he preferred a beer or something else. Your inner instincts told you to grab a good whisky, and to be fair, you preferred it more too. As you finally reached the counter, you ordered two glasses of fine whisky, feeling confident in your choice. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, its rich aroma enticing your senses. Now all that was left was to find the mysterious guy and deliver his drink, hoping it would lead to the conversation you were seeking.  

You turned around with both drinks in your hands and heard a familiar voice not too far from where you stood. A childish smile spread across your face as you headed in that direction, but soon it vanished. He was sitting alone with a really pretty lady, engrossed in conversation. So he was really just trying to be nice, after all. Well, that’s my luck again, haha. 

He looked at you, but your gaze was fixated on the floor as you walked past them to search for a seat. 

“Can you wait for me a bit? I need to talk to… someone.” He said with glimmering eyes as he looked at you when you entered the bar. He couldn’t get you out of his mind since he saw you outside, standing alone.

“I think we talked it all out, so if you don’t mind, the boss is already waiting for me at the office, Tetchou. What about we call it a day then?” She asked with a warm smile on her face. She knew him for a long time and perfectly understood the look he gave you when you walked by - it was a look of longing and curiosity. To be fair, she hasn't seen him this excited in years. 

“Oh, yeah, perfect.” His thoughts weren’t there anymore; all he could think of was you. The glimmer in his eyes grew even brighter as he imagined the possibilities that lay ahead. “See you later.” He didn’t even take his gaze off of you; he followed your steps until you reached the corner of the bar with the last free seats. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to strike up a conversation with you, to hear your voice, and to get to know you better. The anticipation of seeing you again made his heart race with excitement, leaving him eager for the moment when he could finally approach you.   

“Go after her, goddamnit, Tetchou.” She stood up and pushed him in your direction with a determined look on her face. Tetchou hesitated for a moment, but her words resonated within him, giving him the courage he needed to finally make his move. Taking a deep breath, he mustered up all his confidence and began walking towards you, ready to take a chance on the unknown. It was obvious; he’s interested in you. 

Before he reached your table, he turned around to wave goodbye to his company with a huge, hopeful smile on his face.

You drank your whisky in one sip, then started to play with the other glass, drowning in your misery. Even though you were used to it already, it was still painful to realize that you'd seen things in normal, nice gestures from an attractive guy. You sighed, resigned to the fact that love and happiness always seemed just out of reach for you.

“Is that for me?” The confident question astonished you. He was standing there with a silly but very handsome smile on his face, pointing at the glass you were playing with. You couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope as you realized that maybe, just maybe, this attractive guy was interested in you. But… where’s the girl?

“Huh? Oh this?” you held the glass in your hand and turned it around, analyzing the liquor in it. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity as he waited for your response. “No.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “No, you told me I don’t need to. Oh, also–. “ you reached out with his hoodie in your hand, nicely folded. “Thank you.” you avoided eye contact on purpose. The guy seemed taken aback, his eyes searching yours. His perfume lingered in your nose once again, this time more intensely. 

“You also need to walk home, right? Then you’ll need that. Keep it, it’s fine.” He leaned closer and pushed your hand back with the cloth in it, his index finger nearly touching yours. His gesture caught you off guard, causing your heart to skip a beat. You looked up at him, and the blood rushed to your cheeks. His tall figure towering over you gave you the right opportunity to get a good look at him: hehad a very well-built figure and softly tanned skin. His face was smooth, without any wrinkles or flaws, besides three small tattooed leaves under his left eye. His hair was tucked behind his ears, so his face was fully visible. The dark brown locks provided a nice contrast to his smooth, tanned skin. You looked back into his sparkling hazel eyes while you placed the cloth in your lap. 

“Um, you were right at first.” You held the whisky for him to take. “I wanted to say thank you once again when I came inside, but…” you fidgeted your fingers in your lap. “but I saw you had company, so I didn’t want to interrupt anything.” He somehow looked a bit confused and frowned a little before he took the glass out of your hand. He slightly touched your hand when he delicately wrapped his fingers around the glass; that was the moment you realized how huge and soft his hands are.

“Whisky? Nice choice.” he smelled it with closed eyes and hummed quietly in appreciation. As he took a sip, you couldn't help but admire the way his lips curved into a subtle smile, revealing a glimpse of his perfectly aligned teeth.  So kissable… You found yourself captivated by his every movement, from the way he savored the drink to the gentle way he set the glass back down on the table. It made you yearn for more than just a conversation over drinks. “Can I..?” he glanced at the empty seats in front of you.

“Huh?” you were shaken out of your thoughts. “S-sure, but what about your..?”

“My meeting? We finished.” he said easily as he sat down. “And you? Sitting alone on a Thursday night in a bar like this?” You couldn’t help but notice the genuine curiosity in his eyes as he asked the question. His interest in you made your heart flutter, and you found yourself drawn to his charismatic presence. He took a sip of the whisky, and you already regretted lending it to him. Obviously, you need that more now than ever. 

“To be fair, I’m waiting.” Yes, that’s right, you’re waiting for your friends - who are pretty late already. You started searching for your phone with that thought in your mind, hoping they had messaged you with an update. 

“Really?” he chuckled. “Patience is your virtue then.” He drank the remaining whisky to regain his composure and wash away his nervousness. He thought you were waiting for your date and it instantly made him feel disappointed. 

“Yeah, kinda, my friends love to test that.” Finally, you found your phone in your pockets. One new message: Don’t wait for us, urgent work came up. So-so-so sorry, Y/N. Tomorrow? “Oh great, they won’t even come.” you sighed out loud and dropped your stiff shoulders. “I think I should head home then..” 

“Let me invite you back!” He looked relieved and excited when he heard the word ‘friends’; and placed his palm on the table on your side. “Also, I’m Tetchou. Tetchou Suehiro.” You looked up to him, and his smile made it even worse and inescapable. Damn it, why do you have to look so good? You couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction as you locked eyes with Tetchou. 

“Y/N, nice to meet you, I suppose now.” Your anxious giggle didn’t help either, as you tried to suppress the growing infatuation. In the blink of an eye he disappeared to the counter. 

I’m literally sitting with the hottest guy on earth, and you guys are not here?! you sent the message abruptly to your friends before Tetchou came back. 

“I brought the same Henessy.” He placed the glasses on the table with a charming smile on his face. The drinks looked awfully small in his hands. 

You hummed a thanks under your nose and held up your drink; you misplaced it on the way to your mouth, and a huge amount landed on yourself. “Goddamnit.” you looked down on your bare chest, watching the Henessy drops rolling down on your skin. Tetchou burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

"Looks like you could use some practice with that drink," he teased, handing you a napkin to clean up the mess. As you wiped away the spilled liquid, you couldn't help but feel a rush of embarrassment. He found your clumsiness pretty adorable and somehow sexy. You couldn’t help but blush at Tetchou’s teasing. “What were you thinking about?” he tried to hide his giggles with his hand covering his mouth, but those sparkling hazel eyes betrayed him. “Do you really wanna know?” The way he acted provoked your flirty behavior, and the alcohol in your veins didn’t help the situation either. But why would you hold yourself back? He nodded with a curious look in his eyes. “Well…” you looked around like you were going to say a really shameful thing. “I was actually thinking about how soft your hands are and how much I’d love to see you try to clean up a spill with that charm of yours.” you whispered seductively and looked down on his long, slender fingers with a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Ah, no, you’re wrong. They aren’t.” The twinkle in his eyes grew even brighter as he leaned in and sneakily reached out to grab yours. His touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. “See?” He drew small circles in your palm with his fingertips, then closed his grip around your hand. Slowly, you looked up at his face and carefully observed every little detail of his veiny hand. 

You looked around carefully and noticed that the bar was getting emptier, which gave you a lot more confidence to be flirtatious. You decided to play along and let your gaze linger on his hand, tracing the intricate patterns of his veins with your eyes. The dim lighting in the bar added an air of mystery, making you feel bolder as you leaned in closer to him. 

“Tetchou, can you…” you nodded in the direction of the free space next to you. “Come a little bit closer for a moment?” He raised his eyebrows suspiciously, and stood up to sit beside you without ever letting go of your hand. He held it like a treasure he had just found. You leaned close to his ears and tugged his hair out of the way. “I’ve read an article that stated: if someone’s hand is rough, their lips surely are delightful. Is it true?” You whispered softly, feeling a rush of nervous excitement.

He turned his head slowly, just inches away from your smirking lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He looked down and back up into your eyes, staring into them, his rough hand still tightly intertwined with yours. 

“Could be. Do you…” he leaned a bit closer, his breath ghosting on your lips, almost brushing them together as he spoke. You could feel the anticipation building between you. “Wanna test it?” Your heart raced as his words hung in the air, sending shivers down your spine. The intensity of the moment was palpable. 

“For scientific purposes.” You whispered with a mischievous smile on your lips as you closed the remaining distance between you. The mixture of the whisky and his saliva tasted sweet and smokey on your tongue. His mouth moved slowly, enjoying every moment of the kiss and tasting you like fine wine. His free hand instinctively found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheeks. The warmth of his touch sent a wave of electricity through your body, intensifying the connection between you. 

Thanks to the separated panels of the bar, it felt like you were the only ones in the room. The soft glow of the dimly lit room added to the intimate atmosphere, creating a bubble of privacy around the two of you. 

His thumb gently tapped the corner of your mouth, like he was asking for permission, before he slipped his tongue inside. The taste of his lips and the rhythm of his movements ignited a passionate fire within you, making it hard to resist him. He discovered every inch and followed the line of your gums, exploring the depths of your mouth with curiosity and desire, before both of your tongues entwined together. With each shared breath and lingering touch, the connection between you deepened, leaving you both craving more.

“So… the article was true?” he asked, with his lips lingering on yours. You could feel the hint of a smirk on his face as he spoke, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. It was clear that he had been intrigued by the article, and now, experiencing it firsthand, he wanted to confirm its validity. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but smile and nod.

“What do you think about continuing this conversation somewhere more private?” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. The anticipation in his eyes mirrored your own desire.

“Lead the way.” 

You grabbed him by the hand and walked all the way to your home. It would have been a short, fifteen minutes walk if you didn’t stop at every corner to steal kisses from each other between conversations. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and every stolen kiss only intensified the longing you both felt. As you finally reached your home, the anticipation grew even stronger, knowing that this conversation would continue in a more intimate setting. 

When the door finally closed behind you, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. After you stepped out of your shoes, you turned to face him, but he had already taken a step forward and backed you up against the wall. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer as his lips hovered over yours.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his breath lingering on your skin. Your heart raced with desire as you met his intense gaze. With a slight nod and a longing in your eyes, you whispered back:

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Tetchou immediately kissed you and pushed you firmly against the wall. His hands slipped under your shirt, exploring your body with his tough hands. You grabbed his upper arm to steady yourself a bit, and that’s when you realized how well-built he is. He lifted you up like you weighed nothing while kissing your neck hungrily. 

“Your workout now surely paid off, huh?” you asked teasingly while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Lead me to your bedroom.” his voice was low and husky as he whispered. He wanted to touch you, to eat you up alive, and your teasing didn’t help the situation, not a single bit. You could feel the intensity of his desire as he carried you towards the bedroom, his muscles flexing with each step.

“First room on the right.” He carried you all the way to your bed and carefully laid you down on it, his body hovering over yours. Tetchou was absolutely hypnotized by you and your body under him. As his lips trailed down your neck, leaving fiery kisses all over your skin, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. He couldn’t resist the urge to explore every inch of your body, his hands tracing a path of desire along your curves. The whimpering sounds you made were like the most beautiful melody in his ears. 

You tugged at the bottom of his shirt; he helped you and lifted it over his head for you to get a good sight of his bare, well-shaped chest. His muscles were clearly visible, even in the infiltrating moonlight. The way he looked down at your face made you feel uneasy in your pants. For a moment, he stopped, admiring the sight in front of him. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered,

“Is it still okay?” he asked while his fingers traced patterns into your inner thighs. 

You slipped your fingers through his messy hair and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. “Go on.” you whispered to his lips in a lustful tone. His fingers moved closer and closer to your crotch. He groaned into your mouth when he finally touched your needy cunt through your panties. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back your moans. 

Tetchou made his way down to your chest with his lips, gently sucking and nibbling on your soft skin. He moved lower until he reached your hips, while his fingers were still swirling around your hole with the already wet fabric caging it. You could feel the heat building between your legs, urging him to remove the barrier and satisfy the ache that had been growing. “Please!” you moaned and lifted your hips up in pleasure. Tetchou looked up at you, seeming pleased with himself, then pulled your panties down painfully slowly. As he discarded the damp fabric, his eyes locked with yours, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own desire. He groaned into your mouth when he finally touched your needy cunt. You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back your moans. 

“Good girl” he hummed, and slipped one lithe finger inside your cunt. You’ve seen stars from the relieving feeling as he swirled around your soft walls. Soon another finger accompanied the first one, while his lips lingered on your wet folds. As his finger slid deeper, a wave of pleasure washed over you, causing your hips to involuntarily buck against his hand. The sensation intensified as he skillfully curled his finger, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for more.  “Do you want me to eat you out like you’ve never been before?” he asked, moving your skirt away to look you in the eyes. Your breath hitched at his question, your desire evident in your gaze. The anticipation of his skilled tongue on your most sensitive area sent shivers down your spine.

“Please…” you moaned and grabbed him by his hair, holding him closer to your aching clit. His lips curled into a mischievous smile as he obliged.

“What a lewd sight.” he glared at your face, and without breaking eye contact, licked your clit slightly. He savored your sweet taste for a mere moment before he needily started lapping at your cunt, his tongue eagerly exploring every inch of your throbbing core. You whined out when his tongue and fingers started moving in sync, your arousal growing more and more intense. Each flick and stroke intensified the sensations coursing through your pulsating core, pushing you closer to the edge of release.

Tetchous fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, hitting your sweet spot perfectly with each movement. Your moans became louder, filling the room with the symphony of your pleasure. Suddenly he slipped his tongue inside along with his fingers, sucking on your bud hungrily. Every flick of his tongue and gentle suckle made you lose yourself in a whirlwind of ecstasy, driving you to the brink of madness.Your body arched and writhed in response to his expert touch.

Before you could reach your climax, he pulled out his digits of your cunt. A grievous whine escaped your mouth and lifted yourself up a bit. But before you could complain about it, he leaned over you and slipped his slender fingers in your mouth, gently rubbing them against your palate, making you taste your own juices. You sucked on them, begging him with your eyes to continue. With a lustful smile, he withdrew his fingers from your mouth and trailed them down your body, teasingly grazing over sensitive areas.

With one determined movement, you switched positions with him. You lowered yourself down to his throbbing cock, licking it through the fabric. Your tongue danced along the contours, tracing every inch of his hardness, as he moaned in pleasure. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers and with one swift movement, you pulled it off of him. Your eyes widened at the size of him. 

“Oh my-” you gasped and positioned yourself above him. He grabbed your thighs harshly, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

You rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet entrance before you lowered yourself to take him in slowly, inch by inch. As you sank down onto him, a wave of intense pleasure washed over you. The feeling of fullness, combined with the friction, sent shivers down your spine. His hands tightened on your thighs, urging you to take him in fully. His deep groans filled the room.  

“F-fuck baby, you’re so tight-” he arched his back, and thrusted up into you at a slow pace. He tried to hold himself back, but it was no use. You steadied yourself with your palms on his chest, riding him slowly, with thighs pressed against his sides. The slapping of both of your skins echoed with your loud moans in the room. All Tetchou could think of was how good you felt wrapped around him and how badly he wanted to make you feel good. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you in sync with his own thrusts. 

“More!” you whined as you bounced up and down on his thick cock. Tetchou forcefully lifted you up from his member, and with one harsh movement, he folded you under himself. You gasped from the sudden switch in positions, but before you could complain about it, he thrusted in you with a vigorous pace. “T-tetchou!” 

As your moans became louder, Tetchou’s desire to please you intensified. He totally shifted his focus to your pleasure, with his hands worshiping your body and his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His movements became more intense, hitting all the right spots that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The intensity of his thrusts matched the fervor of his kisses, creating a symphony of pleasure that left you breathless.

“Say my name again!” he commanded, biting into your lower lips as he fastened his pace. You gasped again and tangled your hands in his messy locks. Your legs wrapped around his frame, pulling him in deeper as he continued to fuck your cunt at an ungodly pace.

“Tetchou!” you clenched around him as his name left your lips. His cock twitched inside, filling up every inch of your hole. You bucked your hips up in his direction as you started to reach your climax, and oh, how much he liked that. With one finger, he added pressure to your aching clit which made your whole body shiver from pleasure. The cries of his name filled the room completely, mixing with his loud moans. 

“Cum together with me” he whispered in a husky tone. He buried himself once again deep inside you before your walls clamped down on his cock with so much force. You reached your high together, the mixture of your juices dripping out of your pulsing pussy. After a few moments, he stilled his movements, gently lowering himself on top of you. “This was incredible.” you whispered while playing with his messed up hair. 

“You are incredible.” Tetchou looked up at your face, his eyes filled with adoration, before he planted a kiss on your forehead. 

The cute dividers are from @cafekitsune ♡

Special tag: @iovetecchou 👀♡

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsdogs #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs tetchou suehiro #tetchou x reader #tetchousuehiro #tetchou suehiro #bsd tecchou #bsd tetchou #bsd tetchou suehiro #tetchou suehiro x reader

[ggsyoons]

Make it Colorful | C.Seungcheol (sfw)

”A fat white rabbit cake, really…?” “It wasn’t from me! It was just a cake from the staff…” As Soonyoung said, even after telling him that, Seungcheol still sulked.

♡ summary;

my lil spin on cheol's bday live last year where you're staff and also his gf and he's sulky about his cake.

・❥・word count: 1.5k

choi-ddoppi strikes again! ­ᥩིྀ ⋅ ˔ ⋅ ) in honor of seungcheol's (aka the sexist man alive) 28th bday <3

request here!

☆⠀ ੭  ﾟ

“It’s time for your birthday live, Cheol.” You said, peaking around the corner, carrying a phone and tripod.

Seungcheol was just sitting there on his phone, wearing an oversized windbreaker with grey sweatpants.

He looked up, “Damn, already?”

”Yep, so get ready,” You said. “Did you get hair and makeup done?”

”I did, but…” Seungcheol grabbed your hand as you passed by, stopping you. “Can you check again?”

“What?” You chuckled. “Check your makeup?”

Seungcheol was looking up at you, grabbing your arm as he nodded with a goofy smile.

Though the schedule was tight, you couldn’t say no to that stupid smile of his.

All you even did when Seungcheol asked to “check his makeup” was look at his face up close as his eyes were shut.

Seungcheol giggled whenever you touched his face with your gentle fingers, often interfering via grabbing them.

”Your makeup looks great.” You said, sighing before walking away to set things up.

”I can do that myself.” He said, beginning to stand.

”I’m a staff member for a reason, Cheol - it back down.”

Seungcheol sat.

You had set up the whole tripod, phone, light thing so much it was practically muscle memory to you.

Even when you had done it a million times before and Seungcheol had also seen it a million times before, he would always hug you from the back and whisper his upmost gratitude.

”Looks great as always, Y/N, so reliable.” Seungcheol said, his arms around your waist.

”I’ve done this a countless number of times, Cheol, must you do this every time?”

”Do you not like it?”

You paused, “No…”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, he just smirked and buried his face into your nape. 

That part was always sensitive, so you yelped. Seungcheol began kissing it, you manage to squirm away from him.

”Cheol!” You scold. “The live! It’s scheduled in like, two minutes.”

He just stood there with a careless expression, shrugging.

You rolled your eyes as Seungcheol sat down on the couch, in front of the phone and the lights. He began fixing his hair, moving things around, and just making sure everything was perfect before the live.

Honestly, lives were one of the most stressful things about this job.

Unlike videos, lives couldn’t be edited, everything that was said and done was said and done forever.

Nothing ever went wrong thus far, you’d done this for years and with every member and everything always went smoothly, but you still always dreaded it.

Ah, right, I almost forgot.

You push these thoughts to the side and run out the room for a moment as Seungcheol calls out for you.

When you returned, you were holding a white box, Seungcheol immediately knew what it was and jumped up.

”Y/N, is this for me?” He asked, taking it from you with a wide smile.

”Yeah, it is,” You said, though it was obvious. “But—“

Seungcheol unboxed it, revealing the cake sealed inside.

It was a fat white rabbit holding a diamond with cherry candles on top, quite plain, but it was just a cake for the live.

You could tell it wasn’t what Seungcheol expected as he held it with a slightly confused, almost disappointed expression.

”What is this supposed to be?”

”A fat rabbit.”

”A rabbit is this fat…?”

”Yes, but—“

An unexpected guest suddenly came in, “Coups! Happy birthday! Did the live start yet?” Soonyoung said. “Hey, Y/N!”

”Hi, Soonyoung,” You waved, he waved back. “And no, it’s about to start, though.”

Other staff had come in to get things ready, lighting up the candles and setting up the live itself.

You found a seat behind the phone, on an armchair as Soonyoung stood beside you, arms crossed.

“What do you and Coups have planned after this?” Soonyoung asked, nudging you.

”Nothing you need to know.” You teased.

Soonyoung pouted, “C’mon…”

”Just hanging out.”

”Alright, then…”

As Seungcheol was getting the final touches done, he looked down at the cake, then up at you.

Is he upset about the cake? Oh, don’t tell me he’s sulky…

But he was, you could clearly see it in the way he frowned, pressing his lips together as he glared at you.

It was a pain when Choi Seungcheol became sulky, - which was very often - but it was undeniably adorable and you looked down to smile. 

Soonyoung tapped you on the shoulder, “Uh, is Coups upset about something?”

You lift your head, suppressing a smile as Seungcheol still glared at you.

”The cake, it seems like he doesn’t like it and he thinks I’m the one who prepared it.”

Soonyoung craned his neck to see the cake, once he did, he nodded.

”Yeah, looks like a cake he’d not like.”

”It’s not what I prepared, though. It’s just for the live! I wanted to tell him, but—“

”— He got dragged away?”

”Yeah.”

Soonyoung laughed, “Well, guess you’ll have to deal with that for, like,” He checked his phone. “Thirty minutes or so.”

“Not even the longest he’s gone being sulky.”

“That’s true. Though, I feel like even if you did tell him, he’d still sulk.”

You sighed, ”Probably.”

The live went as well as it could in the first few minutes.

Soonyoung went and (loudly) sang happy birthday, gave a small cameo on live, then scurried away as he gave you a knowing look.

Now that it was just Seungcheol, he sat there and looked at the rapidly moving chat.

”Oh, the cake?” He said, his eyes moving to you for a moment as he began to frown again. “They said it’s a fat rabbit.”

Again, sulky Seungcheol was a pain, but…

Damn, he’s so cute. You covered your mouth as you stared back.

Seungcheol knew you were covering a smile, his expression let up for a moment, but went right back to being sulky.

”It’s a rabbit, but it’s this fat?” He laughed dryly. “This is upsetting.”

You tried to mouth an “I’m sorry”, however, he didn’t want to see it.

As the live went on, he asked for the slippers Jeonghan had gifted him. You went to go fetch them.

They were Gucci, you almost felt bad for even touching them.

Seungcheol stood to receive them from you, only his torso down were seen on camera, so as he took them, he mouthed “I’m upset” as he held your hands in place for a few seconds. 

The final time the cake was brought up, it was towards the end after a few of the members (very loudly) belted happy birthday from the hallway. 

”Ah, you want to see the cake?”

As soon as you heard that, you nearly groaned, Out of all comments to read… 

He lifted the poor little cake, frowning, “But why isn’t mine colorful? Colorful,”  He looked up at you, chuckling dryly again. “I feel like it could have been more colorful.”

Seungcheol sighed dramatically, “Gosh.”

“Colorful…” He murmured, now glaring at the camera.

What kind of heroic deed will I have to do to make him stop sulking from this?

“Cheollie…” You whined, hugging him from the back as he just sat there, crossing his arms.

”A fat white rabbit cake, really…?”

“It wasn’t from me! It was just a cake from the staff…”

As Soonyoung said, even after telling him that, Seungcheol still sulked.

“I don’t even like vanilla cake.”

”Well, they didn’t know that,” You pressed your cheek against his back, your arms still wrapped around his waist.

“Could’ve told them…”

”You’re being unfair, Cheol!”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything to that, he just kept crossing his arms.

“Fine, it’s fine, a fat little colorless rabbit cake is fine.” He began to say, flipping around so that now his back was against the couch

You were left sitting there beside Seungcheol, his lips sticking out into a pout.

This classic routine he does, You leaned against his shoulder. “It really isn’t that bad, Cheollie…”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s fine, it’s just fine.”

”Cheol—“

”No, no, I’m fine with it.”

The pout got bigger with each word.

Choi-ddoppi will be the death of me.

The two of you sat there silence, Seungcheol crossing his arms with an admittedly cute frown and not looking at you.

You sighed and pulled his sleeve, “Cheollie… look at me.”

Even when he was “mad”, Seungcheol couldn’t refuse a request like this.

He turned his head as you got onto his lap, arms wrapped around his neck now.

”After this, I have a celebration prepared just for us… so don’t get hung up over that cake, m’kay?” You said before kissing him on the cheek.

Seungcheol considered it with exaggerated expressions, looking around in all directions as he thought about this. 

Then, you pecked him on the lips and his sulky face melted into a smile.

Seungcheol kissed you back, knocking you onto your back as you made out.

”Plus, I was the first person to wish you a happy birthday today, so you can’t be upset with me! I did it right at midnight.”

”Yeah, yeah,” Seungcheol laughed, kissing you again. “Wait, but I think Jeonghan did it first—“

You playfully punched his chest, “Hey.” You warned.

”Joking.” He said mischievously.

“Coups! Coups!” Soonyoung burst in, so used to your and his antics that he wasn’t even surprised by the sight. “Time to bounce.”

Seungcheol hung his head, giving you one final kiss before getting up. 

Soonyoung left, but not without saying, “Happy to see you made up.”

”I’ll be home soon, get that surprised prepared for me. I’ll be looking forward to it all day.” 

“Anything for you.”

Seungcheol smiled, he was halfway out the door, but he couldn’t stop himself from going back to kiss you again, scooping you up into his big arms.

”Cheol… don’t leave your fans waiting.” You rolled your eyes, breaking away.

”I know…” He looked like an abandoned puppy with those big, sparkly eyes. “Okay, bye for real.”

”Mhm, we’ll see each other soon.”

Seungcheol left very slowly, his eyes on you the whole way out.

You were about to go back to the couch and chill for a bit before leaving when Seungcheol stuck his head back into the room.

“Oh, and I didn’t really care about the cake.”

I knew it. 

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #s.coups x reader #s.coups #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #s.coups fluff

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶“So,” you leaned into the joke by lowering your voice to a provocative, airy tone, “What are you wearing?”✶

NSFW — smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, secretly getting off while the other doesn't know it, voice kink, perv!eddie, perv!reader

chapter: 7/15 [wc: 4.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 7: Satan Always Calls Collect

You shivered. The chilly air in the tiled hallway hit the dewy drops leftover from your shower, sending an eruption of goosebumps down your exposed legs. In your slippers, you shuffled to the ice machine, filled your floppy ice pack, and returned to your dorm room, where you were more comfortable limping to your bed despite not seeing another soul. Weekends were quiet on the athletic side of campus.

Getting ready for the night, you threw back your bed covers looking forward to a long rest; a nice relaxing time knowing your alarm clock was set two hours later than usual. That is, until the phone on the shared bedside table rang.

Sagging, you answered expecting your roommate to say she forgot something, “Hello?”

“Hey.” Your stomach clenched and flipped at his distorted voice over the line. “Was just thinking about you. Sorry it’s been two weeks.”

“Don’t tell me you read a magazine that said you should wait that long to call a girl, Munson.”

Exhaling in a short scoff, he set down a metal can of whatever he was drinking; a hollow tink, presumably an empty beer. “I’m afraid my magazines don’t have many articles giving dating advice in them.” Images of naked babes posed on cars entered your mind. Probably the same titles he collected when he was younger. Sounding more apologetic, he said, “I meant to call sooner. Between getting band stuff going, researching and writing out the rest of this campaign, and other bullshit, I’ve been busy. Just coming home and crashing at night.”

“And what about your homework?”

“Yeah.. Definitely been trying to–”

“Choose your words wisely.”

“..Copy someone else’s,” he caved. Popping the tab of another drink, he sipped a few times before he felt comfortable speaking again, in a much softer manner. “I missed you.”

Glancing at the door to make sure it was closed, you sank into your mattress and tried not to ruminate too deeply over him missing you. He’d said it before, there was no reason to latch onto it now. Playing it over, and over, again in your head. Wondering how often he missed you, or thought about you in general, and what sparked him to do so, and whether or not it was as frequent as you thought about him. And if those thoughts led to other thoughts.. Daydreams, even. The sort of questions you weren’t supposed to have about your best friend. “Missed you too, Eddie. You know, you have perfect timing. I just got out of the shower, and my roommates gone for the weekend over to her boyfriend’s.” Crinkly static responded. A buzzing lull as your words sank in through your thick skull. Putting your hand over your eyes, you explained, “That sounded weird. I meant I was getting ready for bed when you called.” You almost promised him you were wearing clothes, but that seemed like a suggestion too far in the area you were trying to avoid.

Except he careened right for it. “Not wearing your tracksuit, huh?”

“No.” God, you hated how high-pitched you went when you were grinning. Twirling the phone cord around your finger like a schoolgirl, cheesing so hard your cheeks hurt. “None of the windbreaker stuff you hate.. I’m wearing pink pajamas with little ladybugs on them.”

Embarrassing.

He snickered. “Sounds cute. Do you really go to bed at 8:30 like an old lady?”

“I am old,” you insisted. In the background, you heard him walking through his trailer, assuming from the kitchen to his room with the phone tucked to his shoulder, falling to his bed with a nasally huff directly into the microphone.

No amount of shame could keep your body demure. In any other context, you wouldn’t have noticed the soft fabric of your adorable matching pajama set brushing over your nipples; an action that would be ignored on any other occasion, if it weren’t for them being coaxed from their half-hardened state to fully erect with the knowledge of where your mind was wandering.

Listening intently, there was no mistaking Eddie’s long exhale as he shifted, and the grind of a zipper being pulled.

“So,” you leaned into the joke by lowering your voice to a provocative, airy tone, “What are you wearing?”

If you could bottle his laugh, you would. It would be lacking the nuances of how his chest shook, the intricacies of his short curls bouncing, and the twinkle in his eye when his gaze slid to yours, but it would suffice on these lonely nights made less lonely by him.

“I’m–just takin’ my jacket off,” he was quick to excuse, stunting his words in a believable way for someone struggling to remove the heavy-ass layers they wore when it wasn’t even cold out. “Wearing my Hellfire shirt, which reminds me.. I couldn’t help but notice you stole my other one.”

Your fingers sought the keepsake stashed beneath your pillow out of instinct. “Oops, my bad.”

“Couldn’t possibly be because you’re planning on making the drive to join us again?” He didn’t allow you time to reject the offer. “The brats have been bothering me about you.” Sucking in a long breath, you could visualize him struggling between a nod of approval and an admonishing shake. “They think they can weasel their way out of everything by concocting these asinine scenarios, like flirting with a magically locked door to open it. You’re a bad influence on them, y’know, you shattered my illusion of being the big scary DM, and now they think I’ll give in to their demands if they’re creative enough.”

“You poor baby,” you mocked, “Sounds like you don’t even want me there.”

“I want you here.”

Instant. An ache in your chest. Lump in your throat. A single sentence washing over you, bathing you, soothing you. Snaking its way around your body. Muddying your apprehensions. He just.. said it so boldly, and immediately with conviction. Serious. Not at all matching your cooing lilt.

You laid back in bed, and if the phone cord happened to drag over your clothed tits and brush your nipples as you switched hands, thus causing you to suck in your bottom lip between your teeth, then so be it. The sensation was electric. All pleasure. And he didn’t have to know.

Back to reality, you stifled a pained grunt from lifting your right leg onto the bed. Sighing in relief at the ice pack numbing your knee.

“That was quite a noise you just made,” he said, deeper in register, a little slower and coming from his chest. Helplessly gravelly, and directly into your ear pressed against the sweaty plastic.

And yeah, your sigh came out more as a whimper than you intended. “I told you I’m getting old,” you said, slipping the top button of your shirt undone. “Gotta ice my knee after every practice. And my hips, and my left shoulder after uneven bars, both ankles–especially after having two surgeries on the right one a few years ago. God, and don’t even get me started on my back.” The next button gave easily, and your tired body was accepted by your fluffy blankets. Weary head resting amongst the pillows as your eyes fell closed.

Your callused fingertips made contact with the sensitive skin of your clavicle and Eddie continued in the same measured cadence, “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Eyes very open and mouth very shut, you glanced around your room, unnerved he chose the very second your thumb strummed over your nipple to ask that question in that way. “Wait, what?”

“Are you eating properly and giving your body a break?”

Oh. “Yes and definitely not. I told you my money is mine now, so everything’s getting better. I mean, I can afford these cute pajamas, at least. No more canned green beans on plain rice and stealing my roommate’s ketchup, for me. Plus, I get free food at my job.” You opened the rest of your shirt, bare chest rising and falling in the indecent way it should when you stopped resisting your cravings. “Can’t make any promises about my body.”

His sudden caring attitude erred on the side of doting. “I just worry about you pushing yourself too hard, sometimes.”

Thumb and index giving yourself light pinches, your jaw slackened as your body didn’t, running one leg up the other until both your thighs squeezed tight. “That’s what comes with the sport. Teenage glory and then an early retirement when your knees no longer work.” He made a gruff sound from his throat. “Why do you care? I’m the one who got a silver medal on vault last Nationals. I’m geriatric, Eddie. It happens.” Your pinches escalated in strength, causing you to press your tongue to your teeth in order to discipline yourself from being so obvious.

“Is it so wrong I want you to be healthy?”

“It’s annoying.”

“Oh, but I like annoying you.” His smirk preceded his teasing remark. An undue bite to his inflection, like he was enjoying himself far too much.

And maybe you enjoyed the idea of him caring about you too much, too.

Flattening your palm to your belly, your fingernails grazed your delicate skin on their course downward. With the phone nestled under your cheek, you used your other hand to pull the tie of your shorts loose, and slid your fingers beneath the waistband, climbing over your mound. The tip of your middle finger paused at the height of where you needed it most. Tempting your desire to test the naughtiness of it all, holding your breath as you debated if this was crossing a line; and as your free hand cupped your breast, and the backside of your thumb teetered on the precipice of a bad idea, his warm voice pushed you over the edge.

“I’ll just have to take care of you, then, if you’re not going to do it yourself.”

A stroke: thumb, and middle finger. Acute delight fluttering your inhale, and a deep rapture between your legs. Once, twice, then a little circle. Back and forth.

“Oh? And how do you suppose you’ll do that?”

“Come back to Hawkins and find out.”

Not falling for that one. Speak all the fantasies you had aloud in that honeyed rasp of his, he would do nothing to relieve your stress. In fact, you were sure he went out of his way to avoid touching you at DND, acting out the goblin’s chants by gripping the other guy’s shoulders, whispering menacingly in their ear, drumming his fingers along their backs to creep them out. Except when it came to your turn. Your hair stood on end in anticipation. And he walked past you to sing the last sinister verse on his throne. Like you didn’t exist.

What was he going to do if you drove the 16 hour round trip? Massage your lower back through sheer will alone?

Heartbreak awaited you in Hawkins. That’s it.

“Tempting offer,” you mused past the sting of a lost cause, past the dulled pain of unrequited feelings, arriving at the selfish lust of pretending he was as affected by this phone call as you.

Delving lower, you crooked your fingers and glided your arousal to your clit, swirling more vigorous, purposeful, and needy patterns of bliss. Burning in a hot flush taking over you with the phone trapped beneath the side of your face, turned in a way that would allude to you looking at him laying next to you, noses and lips touching his. A perfect delusion. Somehow, you expelled your excuses coherently, “It’s not like when we were kids; I have training every morning before class, and a second session after, and I pick up hours at work when I can. Not to mention, you know, the actual classes, and exams, and stuff; the reason I’m here, if you remember?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you in your off season? Meant for recovery?”

Astute observation. “Coach, uh..” This clinical conversation was not exactly fueling your perversions. “I haven’t been given much of a break ‘cause Coach wanted me to test into the Elite program, and start vying for a spot on the ‘88 Olympic team.. I’d be able to take sponsorships, if I did. Sounds better than having my clothes smell like grease, and being subjected to drunk frat boys hitting on me for a paycheck.”

A little less groggy, he said in an excited lurch, “That’s an amazing opportunity, tell me you’re considering it.”

“I dunno..” An honest insecurity warbled your dilemma. “That’s still years away, and I’d definitely have to drop out of college to focus on it. And yeah, who knows what condition my body will be in at that point. Twenty-three-years-old is practically one foot in the grave for gymnasts. Can’t imagine competing when I can already feel myself slowing down. I’d rather retire young, finish college, and join the circus.”

He sighed your name– In frustration or something more tender, you weren’t sure since you interrupted him to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Can we talk about anything else?” you asked.

His hard swallow funneled from Indiana to Pennsylvania. From his mouth to your ear. States away, but loud and clear.

Long pause.

Two fingers deep, you closed your eyes from staring at the ceiling, tongue lulled in a silent moan. Hips chasing the heel of your palm in search of the building tension ramping to mind-altering degrees. Forgetting everything that wasn’t in direct sight of your release. Including the near-mute whine escaping with your exhale. Fucking yourself at a faster tempo, imagining he’d be the kind to like it that way. Interrupting your gasps of his name with each thrust. His face, reddened from effort, hovering above yours. His hair sweeping your cheeks. Building. Building. Sending a wanton throb to your clit. Begging for the expertise of your thumb while your fingers were buried in your willing cunt closing in tight around inadequacy.

Long pause.

His mattress springs creaked before you became muffled to the world. His soft breath was replaced by the harsh noise of fabric rubbing against the mic. You jerked away, nose wrinkled at the loudness of it all, about to ask if he dropped the phone when he came back.

“We can talk about whatever you want,” he enunciated in a sweltering union of coercion and dare.

————

Eddie didn’t remember when, exactly, it happened, but he did recall forgiving it as an involuntary response to his nerves.

Metal can to lips, happiness resided. The first beer he downed quickly, but was still too aware of his inhibitions. It did little to hush his pounding heart stuttering his breaths, nor quench his dry mouth. The second drink was better at eliminating the shake in his fingers. The third dulled his face until it tingled under his prodding, feeling the sensation beneath a buzzing layer of haze.

The strip of your character sheet was balled in his sweaty fist. Resolute, he punched the number in order.

It was possible his body reacted to that first ring. Or when you attempted to disguise your annoyed tone under an air of curiosity when you answered with a curt, “Hello?” Or, maybe, his pants became uncomfortably snug when the both of you implied he needed dating advice to talk to you; his friend.

Or it happened when you mentioned what you were wearing.

Freshly showered. In bed all alone. Implying much, and saying so little.

Yeah, he definitely cupped himself then, reveling in the satisfaction of his hardon being treated with the kindness it deserved.

He didn’t waste time taking off his shoes before he was stretching the phone cord to its limits to reach his room. Falling into bed, laying slightly propped up by his pillow. An excited jitteriness to his movements as he unfastened his belt, leather ends dropping to either side of his hips, sucking in his stomach to unbutton his jeans, but as sneaky as he was, you heard the zipper struggle over the bulk of his increasing neediness. “I’m–just takin’ off my jacket,” he said, tilting his head up to escape the groan begging to be announced when his red boxers stretched to their limits in a swell between the black lanes his jeans created. Freed from its cage.

Not once did shame enter his mind. He knew his limits. He could be quiet. He could be quick. He could keep it routine. He was simply taking care of a momentary lapse in judgment, and you didn’t have to know. It wouldn’t get out of hand. Hell, he could even manage to carry a coherent conversation with you. Coherent, but a little apparent where his mind resided, repeatedly mentioning your body.

He shoved his Hellfire shirt up to his chest, giving himself ample room for later.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

Why did you have to react that way, seconds after gifting him with the most delicious moan when you climbed into bed? Sucking in a breath like a gasp; so sweet and innocent, and naive to the rate at which his depravity shattered his illusion of self-control.

Are you hungry, sweetheart? I’ll make you dinner, just sit there and look pretty for me.

Groping his clothed length, he tightened his fist until his fingers circled around himself. Tugging once, twice. Dragging the tip to where it peeked out from under the waistband. Sticky precum glistening in a strand leading to his belly.

You’re tired, baby? Let me draw you a bath. Yes, of course I’ll join you. Don’t worry.

Stroke after stroke, he immersed himself in his fantasy.

But first, tell me where it hurts. Trust me. I’ll take care of you.

It was a secret he’d take to the grave. How much he wanted to be the one you sought after practice. Still dressed in your leotard. Smelling of chalk, sweat, and foam. Providing you with the needs you neglected. Nurturing you in the ways he could. Your muscles are sore? Let me massage them for you. Your thighs are shaking? Come lay down, my Light.

Eddie tried to keep his breathing level as he rocked side to side, shoving his jeans and boxers down. It was torture telling you to come back to Hawkins when he knew he wouldn’t act on his impulses and learn the different ways you could articulate his name.

Just friends. Just friends, he told himself as his skilled hand tamed his urges. Fitting his palm to the underside, fingers curled with his index lifted from the rest, black ring glimmering as he slid his grip upwards. A pleasant brush over the lipped edge. Itching for more, but some part of him wanted to savor the novelty of talking to you while he touched himself. Sullying the image of his perfect girl on her way to becoming an Olympian.

If only you knew how young he was when this idea first sprang to his mind..

What about between those strong thighs, sweetheart? I can make you feel better there, too.

Oh, how he wanted to bury himself there.

His hips jerked. Pumping his fist without his permission. He wanted to make this last. Explore those visions which became more frequent after seeing you train at the rec center. Delve into this region of the late-night images he tried to resist as of late, only to wake up covered in a mess. Dreaming of fucking his best friend and how gently he’d do it.

God, what he would give to have that reality. You sitting on the bed. Any bed. How he’d kneel before you on the floor, running his hands up your calves. Treating you to his thumbs massaging into the muscle. Relaxing you after a long day of training. Gazing into your eyes as he inserted himself between your legs. Slipping his fingers beneath the straps of your leotard, peeling it away from your exhausted body, sliding it over your shoulders. Chasing open-mouth kisses over the unclean skin he wasn’t familiar with. Salt mixing with his spit. Lapping at the column of your throat. Grazing his teeth over your pulse. Lower. Cherishing your warmth. Lower. Teasing the flesh responding to his prompting. He needed to go lower as you tangled his hair in your fists.

Stripping your upper half from the confining uniform, he would expose you for his veneration only. Pursuing where your stuttered speech commanded him. As tender as his hand cradling the back of your head lowering you to the mattress. As enthusiastic as his lips discovering boundaries beyond your friendship.

Even in his fantasies, every now and then, he’d keep your clothing on. He’d never admit he liked it in some ways. Implying how unhinged he was in taking you, that he couldn’t wait for you to undress.

He’d simply trace the edge of your leotard cutting from the crease of your hip to where you begged him to serve you. Moving the fabric aside to flirt, and lick, and suckle until his name was muffled from your thighs enclosing around his face, bucking against his tongue tasting you for the first time. Hailing him to the heavens as he honored you on his knees.

Then, he’d flip you over. Snatch the backside of your tight clothing and wedge it between your round ass. Hiking your hips up with a firm slap on your leg. Outlining your plump pussy under the taut fabric covered in the praise he gave you. Obeying the overwhelming desire to grind himself into the curve of your cunt and add his own decadence dripping down your beautiful thighs.

Fuck, he didn’t mean to sigh your name as he stroked his cock.

“Can we talk about anything else?” you asked.

Smothering the phone against his chest, Eddie rolled onto his shoulder and swirled his tongue around his mouth a few times, then spat into his hand.

It was a miracle he could speak with clarity.

“Of course.” Could you hear the lewd slap he was making, driving his hand up and down his shaft, trying and failing to keep a moderate pace? “Anything exciting you want to tell me?”

“Mmm,” you drew out the hum and he swore he could feel the vibration in his chest. “I’m going to New Jersey next week with a few girls from the team. We’re going to the beach.”

Faster. An open invitation for him to picture you in a bikini. Running his hands up your waist to the underside of your tits. Letting an accident take place; a loose string, and he’d have to help cover you up, and you’d thank him for being so chivalrous by using your mouth.

“Sounds cool. Never been to the beach.”

“One of them has a camera, so I can take some pictures for you. We went last year, too. The ocean’s really pretty.”

Faster, again, because your voice was getting huskier. A hushed caress along his cheek. Likely because you were falling asleep on him, but he didn’t care. Didn’t care. Didn’t care. So sweet and soft for him. Easing his fingers over his cock to your pretty voice coming from your pretty mouth. Each pump, each digit, each squeeze and twist of his wrist at the top bringing him closer to the edge.

There it was again–your quiet intake of breath being released as a whiny plea away from the phone.

Head tipped, he choked back a groan, and thrusted into his fist as if his palm were you, no longer concerned about the consequences of being caught.

You kept him on the line, “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Oh, baby.

Observing his red knuckles in a bout of lucidity, he played up his complaining to garner your sympathy, “Playing mechanic around the trailer park. Gotta be the one to fix everything for everybody. My hand got a little scraped up, though.”

“Aw,” you purred, “Want me to kiss it better?”

This was it. This was it. He was gonna–

Feathery, jumpy sentences spilled from his mouth all at once, “Hey–sweetheart–something just came up. I’ll call you back. Okay?”

You stuttered as well–an Angel’s hymn to his devilish ways, “Y-Yeah. Bye.”

He didn’t have time to hang up.

Slamming the phone to the side of his mattress, he prayed you couldn’t hear his groan of your name break on his tongue. Silent moans escaping past his sealed lips when he dropped his head back. Toes curling right as his thighs twitched and flexed. Erratic movements interrupting his rhythm. Panting as a throb trembled him. Desperately fucking a poor replacement for his best friend’s pussy.

“That’s it–fuck.”

Chest falling in great huffs, he watched his cum land on his shirt, covering him while his strokes faltered, slowed, using his dripping climax as lube. Body jerking from overstimulation. Sliding his thumb over the intoxicating nerves telling him to stop. But it felt so good to picture you straddling him, bouncing relentlessly until he was begging for mercy.

“Holy shit,” he sighed. And then a disenchanted, “Jesus,” as he looked at the mess cooling on his skin, alone in his bed, clear-headed and aware he would never have what he wanted, despite the temporary stupidity clouding his mind moments ago, encouraging him to risk it all.

A sober realization after the best orgasm he’d experienced in his recent years.

Racing heart on the decline, he faced his fears and picked up the phone.

When the dial tone reached him, he mumbled something in relief and let it fall to the floor, listening to the cord drag it back into the hallway while he body went lax, and his vision went dark with his arms crossed over his face.

————

Your phone sat crooked on the receiver.

“Ed–” you couldn’t complete his name, lost to the aftershocks of your climax. Circling your fingers again, and again, over your sensitive clit until, at last, you couldn’t handle more, and went languid. Blinking at the blurry ceiling, accepting it was time to surrender to your drowsy eyelids and sleep.

Reaching for the lamp, you noticed the phone wasn’t hung up. You scrambled for it, and held it up to your ear, listening to the other end of the line. More staticky fabric noise.

Eddie probably drank more than he let on and dropped it again. Meaning he didn’t hear you coach him into fucking you harder, faster at the height of your yearning. Thank God.

You ended the call for him.

That was close.

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk-writes @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff @bebe0701 @eddiethesexy 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[goodwhump-temp]

Jake Peralta Whump | Brooklyn 99

1x01 Pilot - Manhandled, thrown, held at gunpoint 1x02 The Tagger - Career in jeopardy/threatened 1x03 The Slump - Really bad day, "cursed" 1x04 M.E. Time - Squeamish 1x05 The Vulture - Angry, spanked twice 1x06 Halloween - Falls from the ceiling, concussion, falls into Terrys arms, handcuffed, painfully slams onto table 1x07 48 Hours - Exhausted 1x08 Old School - Very hungover, aches/pain, reprimanded 1x09 Sals Pizza - Punched, manhandled, talks about childhood trauma 1x10 Thanksgiving - Talks about sad childhood x2, manhandled, choked 1x11 Christmas - Santa fight, held at gunpoint 1x12 Pontiac Bandit - Exhausted 1x14 Ebony Falcon - Chest bumped to the ground, worried, punched multiple times, numb arms 1x15 Operation Broken Feather - Denial, feels betrayed 1x17 Full Boyle - Pepper sprayed 1x18 The Apartment - Daddy issues, feels doomed from eventual homelessness 1x19 Tactical Village - Jealous, heartbroken 1x21 Unsolvable - Very sleep deprived, depressed/heartbroken, drunk 1x22 Charges and Specs - Very drunk, reprimanded, fired

2x01 Undercover - Picked up/arrested, punched, balls knee'd, cuts burn/pain, held at gunpoint, bummed 2x02 Chocolate Milk - Head manhandled, back issues from Terrys 'body slam,' exhausted x2, feelings hurt, tortured (forced to eat carrots) 2x03 The JimmyJab Games - Attacked by fire hydrants, still heartbroken 2x04 Halloween II - Robbed by bears, falls, hurt by barbedwire, arrested 2x05 The Mole - Feels betrayed, exhausted, slapped 2x06 Jake and Sophia - Hurts his hand 2x07 Lockdown - Passes out (flashback) 2x09 The Road Trip - Slapped 2x10 The Pontiac Bandit Returns - Daddy issues, gut punched 2x11 Stakeout - Punched 2x13 Payback - Exhausted, collapse, numb, sad 2x14 The Defense Rests - Heartbroken/depressed 2x15 Windbreaker City - Heartbroken/depressed, obsessive 2x17 The Boyle-Linetti Wedding - Finger pain, hearbroken 2x18 Captain Peralta - Major daddy issues, major denial, abandoned, feels hurt, confrontation 2x19 Sabotage - Suspended, feels betrayed, almost hit by a truck, held at gunpoint, kidnapped, restrained, gagged, life threatened, trust rooted daddy issues 2x20 AC_DC - Painful fall, limping the whole episode, cracked ribs/broken toes/thumb fractured, hit by box, extreme pain, addicted to work, hit by a car, hospitalized 2x21 Det. Dave Majors - Drinks really strong drink, annoyed, nervous, hurts his fingers, goat jumpscare

3x01 New Captain - Punched x3, briefly sad 3x05 Halloween III - Witch jumpscare, exhausted, throws up x2 3x06 Into The Woods - Falls, surrounded by poison ivy 3x09 The Swedes - Annoyed the whole episode, disgusted, briefly held at gunpoint 3x10 Yippie Kayak - Diehard situation, punched unconscious, hostage/restrained, headache, held at gunpoint, checked out by EMTs 3x11 Hostage Situation - Handcuffed/betrayed, daddy issues !??! 3x12 9 Days - Has Mumps, constant pain, drunk from cold medicine, delerious, mump painfully poked multiple times 3x14 Karen Peralta - Slams into multiple things, falls, major daddy issues, angry 3x15 The 9-8 - (Making Boyle jealous), uncomfortable between friends, punched, nards kicked, pain, tackled 3x16 House Mouses - Flattened by Scully, knocked unconscious, restrained 3x17 Adrian Pimento - Knife to throat/restrained, jumpscared, daddy issues, talks about therapy, held at gunpoint 3x19 Terry Kittens - Daddy issues, screaming scared, sleep deprived 3x21 Maximum Security - Worried, beaten up 3x22 The Bureau - Exhausted (1 pullup) 3x23 Greg and Larry - In danger, life threatened

4x01 Coral Palms, Pt.1 - Depressed, Holt jumpscare, hit by gokart, weird wrist, scared of snakes, tackled, reprimanded (redepressed) 4x02 Coral Palms, Pt.2 - Punched multiple times, headlocked 4x03 Coral Palms, Pt.3 - Falls over fence, calf scratched, queasy/gagging, (+great Holt bonding), throat punched, held at gunpoint, shot 4x04 The Night Shift - Crutches, hair intervention, picked up by Terry, limping, pain, falls over fence 4x05 Halloween IV - Terry jumpscare overreaction, betrayed 4x06 Monster in the Closet - Falls through roof 4x08 Skyfire Cycle - Relived trauma pantsing people 4x09 The Overmining - Angry 4x10 Captain Latvia - Cut palm (bleeding), thrown against a wall, unconscious 4x12 The Fugitive, Pt.2 - Betrayed, held at gunpoint 4x14 Serve & Protect - Feelings hurt 4x15 The Last Ride - Bruised thigh, crying 4x16 Moo Moo - Talks about depressing childhood 4x17 Cop-Con - Hungover, chest pain, literally on fire, gag/dizzy 4x18 Chasing Amy - Scared, worried, slams into bars 4x19 Your Honor - Claustrophobic, daddy issues 4x20 The Slaughterhouse - Water & milk drugged, extremely jittery 4x21 The Bank Job - Hungover, held at gunpoint, framed, arrested 4x22 Crime & Punishment - Hardcore framed

5x01 The Big House Pt.1 - Life threatened multiple times, jumpscared, aggressively beaten up x3 (limping/cuts), scared 5x02 The Big House Pt.2 - Solitary confinement, daddy issues/panic, blackmailed, life threatened multiple times, on meth, very jittery 5x03 Kicks - Daddy issues, nightmare, prison trauma, confession/suspends himself, sad 5x04 HalloVeen - Jumpscare x2, prison trauma, restrained, betrayed 5x06 The Venue - Daddy issues 5x07 Two Turkeys - Sad childhood + daddy issues 5x08 Return to Skyfire - Tired, painfully thrown to the wall 5x09 99 - Daddy issues 5x10 Game Night Pt.1 - Emotional 5x11 The Favor Pt.2 - Emotional/daddy issues 5x12 Safe House - Stir crazy, throat punched, tear off mustache pain, held at gunpoint, daddy issues 5x13 The Negotiation - Held at gunpoint, hostage, sad childhood, brokenheart 5x14 The Box - Embarrassed, relationship tested, angry outburst, hit by a chair, bloody nose 5x15 The Puzzle Master - Hand twisted, jealous, hand cramp 5x17 Dfw - Very nervous, shared daddy issues 5x18 Gray Star Matual - Intimidated 5x19 Bachelor/ette Party - Sickly drunk, guilt, heartbroken 5x20 Show Me Going - Daddy issues, worried, scared 5x21 White Whale - Stressed, 5x22 Jake & Amy - Life threatened, jealous, emotional

6x01 Honeymoon - Stressed 6x02 Hitchcock & Scully - Trapped 6x03 The Tattler - Annoyed, angry outburst, therapy denial, betrayed, angry 6x04 Four Movements - Body slammed, beaten up and sobbed offscreen, pain 6x05 A Tale of Two Bandits - Emotional 6x06 The Crime Scene - Bad childhood, sleep deprived, losing sanity, looks horrible, guilt 6x09 The Golden Child - Choking, heimliched, probably broken rib, punched unconscious, kidnapped 6x10 Gintars - Nervous, guilt 6x11 The Therapist - Massively in denial, hates therapists, held at gunpoint/captured, confesses, emotional 6x12 Casecation - Daddy issues/bad childhood, scared, life threatened (bomb) 6x13 The Bimbo - Emotional x2, bad childhood, height insecurity 6x14 Ticking Clocks - Arm punched x2 6x15 Return of the King - Feelings hurt, angry 6x16 Cinco de Mayo - Tazed x2, betrayed, emotions manipulated 6x17 Sicko - Career threatened x2, almost bit, insulted 6x18 The Suicide Squad - Punched, betrayed, imprisoned, depressed

7x01 Manhunter - Undermined 7x02 Captain Kim - Stepdaddy issues/trust issues x2 7x03 Pimemento - Scared of heights 7x04 The Jimmy Jab Games II - Falls from the ceiling, pain, trips, ceiling falls on him, extreme pain 7x05 Debbie - Knocked unconscious, restrained 7x06 Trying - Hungover, sad 7x07 Ding Dong - Daddy issues, uncomfortable the whole episode, emotional 7x08 The Takeback - Angry, feels betrayed, smushed, threatened 7x09 Dillman - Sad, framed 7x10 Admiral Peralta - Punched 7x11 Valloweaster - Trips, therapy 7x12 Ransom - Held at gunpoint, kidnapped, restrained/threatened

#whump #emotional whump #whump list #whumplist #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #andy samberg #b99 #b99 whump #andy samberg whump #jake peralta whump

[uncannybob]

One-Time Characters I Wish Would Return

Characters who only appeared in one episode that I think should return to the show.

Samantha (S1E11. Weekend At Mort's)

Note: She had a fun personality & a good repore with Mort. I do think her character design could benefit from an upgrade thou where she ever to return which at this point is unlikley.

Colton (S9E11. Bobby Drive)

Note: For what little screentime he had, he seemed like a cool guy. He was ready to sabotage his own party just to spare the other kids the boredom. I think he could make a good companion for any of the Belcher kids.

Roger & Judy (S7E14. Aquatisism)

Note: So here's an idea; if you ever write a Zekina fic where Zeke takes Tina to the aquarium, include Roger & Judy as a side ship. I promise it will be super cute.

Shelby (S3E5. An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal)

Austin (S7E22. Into the Mild)

Note: I love this guy. He was like an even more excentric Tedy and his chemistry with Bob was perfect! Bob did say by episodes end that he kept in touch so I was hoping for his return and was a bit dissapointed when it didn't happen.

Grandma Alice (S13E20. Radio No You Didn't)

Note: I know she already had an entire episode dedicate to her. I just want more lore, okay!

Benj (S13E22. Amelia)

Officer Large (S11E15: Sheshank Redemption)

Note: This character dosen't have a page on the Bob's Burgers wiki yet. I might take it on myself to write one cause this girl cracked me up everytime she spoke.

Warren Fitzgerald (S6E15. Pro Tiki/Con Tiki)

Captain Flarty (S3E4. Mutiny on the Windbreaker)

Note: I know he was arrested but if the show can bring back evicted bank robbers and would-be-murderers like Mickey and Fanny I think they could bring Captain Flarty back if they wanted to.

Duval (S3E4. Mutiny on the Windbreaker)

Note: It would be fun if Duval settled down in Seymore Bay after the mutiny on The Windbreaker. Maybe he became chef at some small shak or deli.

Derek Demotopolis (S4E6. Purple Rain-Union)

Note: I think one way to re-introduce Derek Demotopolis the dermatologist would be if one of the Belchers got some sort of skin condition and he just happens to be the doctor they go too. Either that or they could bring him back as Gayle's love interest.

Dillon (S7E13. The Grand Mama-Pest Hotel)

#bob's burgers #obscure characters

[peterman-spideyparker]

Costumed (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I think I started to write this back in July, and I didn't want to forget to get this posted like I usually do with holiday themed fics. I'm just sorry the title sucks. I hope you enjoy! :)

Summary: You're not really one for Halloween, but you love a good costume. And while you're not looking forward to doing a group costume, you find something that you just can't pass up.

Warnings: Fluff, regular Nelson and Murdock shenaniganery, mild swearing

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 1,668

What compelled Foggy to come up with the idea that you all wear costumes to the office on Halloween is beyond you, but Matt agreeing and being pretty enthusiastic about it all confused you even more. So when Karen suggested a theme of “superheroes” with a sly smirk and Matt still agreed, you thought that Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out with a camera crew to tell you you’d been punk’d. But when none of that happened and everyone started to plan and chatter about their costumes in the main reception area, you decided that a walk around the block was exactly what you needed. 

“Oh, you’re being a bit dramatic,” Karen chuckles as you grab your jacket on the coat rack. 

“I’m not being dramatic, I’m just convinced that I’m in a parallel universe,” you say as you slide on your windbreaker. 

“Just think about it, though,” Foggy adds. “We go straight from work to Josie’s for the costume contest.”

“All this being contingent we don’t have client meetings or need to go into court,” Matt says with a little smirk. 

“I can’t believe you. Matt Murdock, of all people, wanting to have fun. Voluntarily.”

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me.” Taking a few steps in your direction, Matt leans in and gives you a kiss. “See?” he teasingly smirks.

You roll your eyes and grin, kissing him again. “I’ll be back soon. If you guys want me to grab coffee—.”

“Yes, please,” they all say in unison. 

“Fine, text me what you want. I’ll be back!"

With a final round of goodbyes, you leave the office and trot down the stairs and into the street. A few minutes into your walk, you find a new little costume shop open for the season. With everything in the office fresh in your mind, curiosity gets the best of you and guides you into the store. You slowly browse the shelves, looking at the different options available, some very impressive, and others in need of some extra fabric. 

“Hi, welcome in,” a salesperson greets behind some pumpkin trick or treat pails. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Maybe,” you hum, peeling your eyes away from something particularly high up. “I’ve been outvoted in doing a themed group costume.”

“What theme?”

“Superheroes.”

“Ah, a classic. Well, we’ve got plenty to choose from. Classy or sexy?”

“I’m thinking a bit of both, actually.” Turning my focus back to the wall, the sales clerk comes to your side. “Could you help me grab that one, please?”

“Ooh, nice choice!”

A few minutes later, you’re leaving the costume shop with a bag in hand, continuing your route of the coffee cart, and returning back to the quiet office, each of your friends nose-deep in work. 

“I thought I was gonna have to send Matt out looking for you,” Foggy finally says. “Where’d you go to get the coffee? Italy?”

“No, I just got a bit side-tracked along the way,” you hum, stuffing the bag into your desk drawer before going over and handing everyone their drinks. 

“What did you pick up on this side track?” Matt hums with a kiss to your cheek as he grabs his cup. 

“Something you guys will get to see in two weeks,” you hum. 

“Did you just pick up your costume?” Foggy asks excitedly, much akin to an excited golden retriever. “But you—!”

“Yes, and that’s all you’re getting, because I’m clearly nothing to win. No hints, no nothing, and no dwelling on how quickly I caved.”

“But what if we wear the same thing?”

“Trust me, Foggy, we’re not gonna have the same costume.”

“If you do, it’ll just have to be a who wore it better,” Karen grins as she sips her latte. “A little Halloween fashion show.”

“Yes!” Foggy cheers enthusiastically.

“No fashion show,” you counter.

“Yes, fashion show,” Matt grins like a cat that ate the canary.

“Goobers, all of you!” You take Matt’s face in your hands, pressing kisses to his lips. “And you’re the head goober!”

Matt smiles and kisses you once more. “I appreciate the recognition, sweetheart.”

“Alright, break it up, love birds,” Foggy teases. “We’ve got a law firm to run.”

“I don’t think that’s much of a costume,” Foggy pouts as you walk into the office. 

“You just gotta wait,” you hum as you walk around to your desk to sit down. 

“Is it a couples costume?” Karen asks. 

“No. Honestly, I don’t know what Matt’s dressing up as.”

“Well, the established plan is to wear our costumes and then go to Josie’s,” he clarifies. “So this ain’t gonna cut it.”

“I know. And this is part of my costume. Just take a deep breath, Flash.”

“No way, if I am wearing this Catwoman bodysuit all day, you’re wearing yours all day,” Karen hums. 

“Fine. You two go get coffee and bagels, my treat, and I’ll be in the Foggy and Karen approved costume by the time you get back.”

Handing them some cash, you shoo them out of the office and lock the door, working on taking off your clothes to reveal your Wonder Woman one piece underneath. You slide on the matching boots and throw on the tiara before you adjust your gauntlets and loop on your lasso of truth. 

Sitting back down at your desk, you resume your previous task of responding to emails when you hear the door unlock, the squeaky hinges opening wide. You smile and stifle a giggle when you see Matt walk in in a Superman costume—giant S on his chest and a cape and all.

“Looking good, Kansas,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “It’s a good fit, but, part of me can’t help but think your broodiness would make you better suited for a Batman costume.”

“You—I . . .” Matt stutters with his mouth agape as he tries to figure out what your costume is. “What are you wearing, angel?”

“My costume,” you say, turning to give him your full attention from your computer. “We agreed on a superhero theme, did we not?”

“Yeah, but, this . . .”

A smile pulls across your face as you watch his cheeks flush with a deep blush. You stand up and make your way over to him, the click of the heels of your boots loud against the old hardwood. 

“Wow,” he breathes as his hands settle into your waist. “This . . . Wow.”

“You like it?” you chuckle as his hands start to trail up, his fingertips hitting your exposed shoulder blades.

“That’d be an understatement, angel.”

“I kinda hesitated about it. It was an impulse buy initially. I’m glad it’s paying off,” you hum as his hands go down over the curve of your ass before giving it a squeeze. “Maybe I should dress as a superhero every year.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, sweetheart. It’s definitely paying off.”

“Feels good?”

“Very.” He leans in to kiss your neck slowly and repeatedly. “I don’t know how I’m gonna focus all day with you in that costume, smelling your skin like that.”

“Well, you should find a way, Murdock.” You can’t help how your eyes flutter shut and the goosebumps that spread all over your skin as he holds you flush against him. Matt knows just what buttons to press and how to press them to make you putty in his hands. “Otherwise, I’ll have to use my Lasso of Truth on you.”

“You gonna tie me up, angel?”

“You need to behave, but it’d be a bit unprofessional to do that here. We’d just have to go back to your place tonight if that’s what you’re jonesing for, though. Not like I need to return the costume or anything.”

As Matt leans in for a kiss, you lean back, taking your index finger and twirling Matt’s cowlick onto his forehead. It holds into a curl, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his freshly-shaven cheek. “There. Now you’re perfectly Superman-ed.”

“Thanks for keeping me authentic, angel,” he smiles as he leans in for a kiss. 

“Hey, whoa, you can only kiss Lois Lane!” Foggy calls as he walking into the office. “Of course you’re Superman. And damn, (Y/N), rocking the tiara and one-piece. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—I wish I had your legs.”

“Thanks, Fog,” you say. “I’ll never not be weirded out and flattered when you say that.“

“Thanks a lot Fog for—holy shit, (Y/N)!” Karen says as she comes in, box of bagels and coffee in hand. “You look hot! I mean, you usually do, but, damn!”

“Thank you,” you chuckle. “Now that you guys know I’m committed to the costume theme, can I please put some more clothes on? It’s kinda drafty in here.”

Matt presses a kiss to your temple before going over to his office to pick up an emergency suit coat he hangs on the back of his door. 

“To keep out the draft,” he smiles softly, kissing your cheek before whispering in your ear: “And so I can hold on to you easier during the day while you wear that.”

“I’m seeing now how this plan is backfiring,” Foggy nods with an exaggerated, turtle-face pout. “It’s worth it, though, cuz we’re gonna win the costume contest! Or at least you two are. But a victory for part of Nelson, Murdock, and Page is a victory for the whole! So let's get to work, keep it in our pants, and then get that victory title. That middle part is for you two, by the by.”

“Yes, Fog, we get it, we’ll behave” Matt confirms, his hand still on your waist as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “But let the record show I’m glad we’re not having a costume ‘Who Wore it Better’ with you can (Y/N).”

“Joke’s on you, Murdock, I’d look fabulous dressed as Wonder Woman. This hair was made for a tiara.”

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#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #daredevil #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fluff #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x fem!reader fluff #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction