#and on the flip side there are some i avoid like the plague | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nehi-soda · 3 months

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Once More to See You - DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.

A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!

Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.

You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your last…hangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.

"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.

"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.

You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.

Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.

Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.

“Hey, loner,” your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didn’t answer.

“Um… you…oka-.”

“Not right now, Kay,” you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.

"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.

You tailed him into the kitchen.

He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.

"Alright, what’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.

“How much have you had to drink?” He said, ignoring your question.

“Not a lot,” you retorted, heat rising up your body.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie,” he scoffed in his southern drawl.

“Oh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?” You replied a little too loudly. “I’m just some silly little girl who doesn’t know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!”

Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.

Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.

Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. “We’re settin’ the fireworks off soon,” he said smugly with a toothy grin.

“Oh, great.” You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.

The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."

Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.

You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.

Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.

“This needs to stop,” he said sternly.

Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"

"Yes. Us. It’s wrong, and it’s only goin’ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.

"But we make each other happy. Isn’t that enough?" You said franticly.

"It’s not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad… if he ever found out… it would be such a mess.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesn’t have to find out. We’ve been so careful. Please, Joel…I love you,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.

"Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. “It's just so complicated.”

“I don’t care” you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.

"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."

He cupped your face in his hands. “You deserve better than this. Better than sneakin’ around and hidin’. You deserve someone who can give you everything.”

"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."

Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlin’,” and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.

"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."

Joel just stood there and took it.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you muttered.

You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!” You repeated.

Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.

"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"

"Joel, please...", you gasped.

Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.

The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; you’d hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."

"Th-then… d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. “J-just b-be with me..."

“Aaah, fuck, who’s got good pussy baby?” Joel growled, his voice low and rough.

"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."

"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-I’ve got good pussy, Joel. It’s all y-yours!”

"Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joel’s hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."Ugh…yes, Joel,” you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. “l love it w-when you f-fuck me.”

“Hmm, always feel so good, baby,” he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

“That’s it, baby, it’s okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.”

Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.

He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl. You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.

"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.

Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doin’ this."

You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"

He finally met your gaze. "It’s not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"But we can’t keep playin’ childish fuckin’ games, and you’re too naive to see the damage this could cause.”

"Don’t you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "You’re the one who started this.”

Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t see you again,” he said coldly.

You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.

Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.

You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didn’t stop until you reached home.

The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.

You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.

Fucking your dad’s best friend, what did you expect; thought you’d live happily ever after with a white picket fence?

Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naïve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.

But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.

A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dad’s voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.

"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wondered where you were. You’re missing the fireworks, honey.”

"Please, just leave me alone."

“Hm, Joel did say you weren't feelin’ well, had too much to drink?”

How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts he’s just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?

divider credit to @kthice

*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #hbo joel miller #no outbreak!joel miller #tlou #tw dubcon

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ckret2 · 11 months

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Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing."

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut.

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking."

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

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

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i-am-trying-my-best-okay · 7 months

Text

Season Three Bridgerton Predictions (Mostly Just Stuff I Want To Happen)

With Charithra Chandran not coming back in season three, they're going to excuse Edwina's absence by saying she married the prince and is living with him in Prussia.

We get flashbacks of Colin and Penelope as kids, where they were closer, but then we see them get distant because of ✨️society✨️ sending them on different paths.

Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth start having a few relevant and independent character moments and actions other than just being 'the younger ones' and have a greater impact on the story.

So. Much. Jealousy. From. Colin. And he doesn't even know it. He sees all their lessons paying off, and he gets jealous, but then he has no idea what he's even feeling. He'll act so passive aggressive with a potential suitor and Penelope's will be like, "What's wrong with you; we had a plan?" And he's like, "I don't know??" "Well stop." "I can't????" He'll land to the conclusion that he just think these men aren't good enough for Penelope for so long. It'll come up in a big argument and she's all like, "Well whose good enough for me? Someone like you?" And then he's like "Yes! Oh." And Penelope is so annoyed because NOW this guy likes her? Just as she was trying to move on? But the thing is she still likes him, so things progress.

Eloise and Penelope avoid each other like the plague, but when Eloise finds out Penelope and Colin are kind of having a thing, and she flips out. She doesn't want Colin to get hurt, so she tells Penelope to steer clear from Colin or she'll tell everyone she's Lady Whistledown. So she does and Colin is very confused and hurt. Then Penelope and Eloise go through some sort of shenanigan and end up having a deep conversation, making up and are once again friends. But then Colin accidently does find out Penelope is Lady Whistledown and is hurt, and Eloise becomes Penelope's #1 defender.

Kate's pregnant, and has the baby within the season. Anthony is freaking out about this; about being a dad, about the baby being okay, about Kate being okay, and how difficult the birthing process will be (trauma from Hyacinth being born). Meanwhile, while Kate is worried about the baby, she's more so focused on what responsibilities she now has as a Viscountess.

They don't reveal the Whistledown secret, at least not to the general public. I think the Bridgerton's will find out, as well as the Featherington's; so when Portia finds out, she sees Penelope in a completely different light, and they have a bonding moment. Maybe in lieu of a big reveal like in the book, at the end of the season the Queen finds out, and instead of exposing her, now she and Penelope sort of work together, aligning their agendas. This elevates the importance of Penelope's work, low key spying for the Queen and reporting on things to manipulate general society. BUT I think Eloise is leaning more to the politically radical side of things, and Penelope's work is now sort of leaning in the opposite direction of that. Despite this, they still find a way to be close friends, despite their very different agendas.

Colin does a big gesture on how he's proud of being with Penelope, that he'll flaunt it in public for all to know.

#bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #edwina sharma #francesca bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma

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irishvampireboy · 3 months

Note

Re the skating thing you just reblogged:

Eddie used to be super into hockey as a kid and Wayne splurged one birthday and got him all the pads and the skates and the helmet and stuff. But then he hit his growth spurt and nothing fit anymore, and they couldn't afford to buy new stuff so Eddie had to give it up. Part of why he kept failing high school is from avoiding gym class like the plague, partly because he thinks he looks stupid (read: too on display) in the shorts (see also for example: Harrington, S.) but mostly because he decided that if he can't do the athletic thing he WANTED to do then he's not going to do ANY of it.

But then the kids want a day at the roller rink (to give El some better memories of skating), and they insist that Eddie comes along...

OKAY I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT ANSWER THIS SOONER I LITERALLY DID NOT SEE THE NOTIFICATION IF I EVEN GOT ONE!?!?!? which is very rude because i no longer have any memory of any kind of skating post BUT!!! I USED TO GO THE SKATING RINK ALLLLLL THE TIME AND IM FROM INDY SO I HAVE THE VIBE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!

Eddie really doesn't wanna go. But El uses her puppy eyes so he immediately says yes. And while we know Steve is sporty i want him to be bad at skating. He's got adorable wobbly knees on wheels and keeps one hand on the railing around the Rink the entire time he's out there, or just near the edge.

The boys keep making fun. El had slowed down and skaed with him for awhile before he'd shoo-ed her away and told her to go enjoy herself. His body is full of tension. The entire tims he's there, apart from when they take a break to get cheese fries and milkshakes.

Eddie shows up later, cuz he had a shift at the garage, but managed to get of an hour early. He watches Steve struggle for a few moments and then goes and rents his skates. He laces up and cruises out onto the shiny wood floor, his legs carrying him easily and swiftly where he wants to go.

"Harrington." Is all he says to Steve the first time he rolls past him. He turns easily, skates backward and waves and smiles at him. Steve's jaw drops and he fully stops skating, knuckles white on the metal railing that has been his lifeline all night.

Eddie passes him a few more times. Takes a small break to go buy some goodies in the little gift shop. He buys two necklaces and two light up bracelets. The bracelets he gives to El and Max, glowy matching friendship gifts. And the necklaces he tucks in his pocket and skates over to Steve. Who is still struggling along, stubborn as ever.

Eddie skates over, briefly catches the tail end of Dustin trying to goad Steve away from the railing. He hears Steve hiss "fuck off Henderson." And watches Dustin skate away laughing. Eddie skates up, uses his breaks to stop and turn so he's face to face with Steve. His eyes widen as he looks Eddie.

"Hey." Eddie says, smiling. Steve takes a deep breath, his knees are shaking, but he does his best to stand up straight.

"Hey to you." He huffs, one foot darting forward a little. Eddie reaches out instinctively, his hand landing on Steve's hip, steadying him.

"Tilt you foot forward, toe down. The break on the front'll help you not move." Eddie taps his skate into the side of Steve's, watches him carefully do as Eddie instructed. His toe hits the floor and he immediately looks more steady.

"Thanks." He breathes, sighing heavy and then smiling up at Eddie.

"Hey." He says, sounds actually happy this time.

"Hi. I got you something." He pulls the necklaces out of his pocket and clicks the button, the little round medallion on the end lights up and flashes. He pulls the two necklaces apart and drapes one over Steve's head, settles it around his neck gently, pats at the flashing lights against Steve's chest twice, smiling. And then drops his own necklace on. Flipping its switch so it flashes just like Steve's.

"Thank you." Steve says, looking down at it, and then back up at Eddie.

"You're good at this." Steve tells him, pointing at all the people skating past them, the majority of them dsncing to the music blasting from the speakers.

"Mhm. You're not." Eddie hums, nods his head to Steve, bites his lip, teasing.

"Yeah no shit." Steve huffs, looking grumpy again. Eddie smiles.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, head tilting sideways. Steve looks at him.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" He repeats, not looking away, not even blinking. Steve's eyes narrow, widen, move over Eddie's face before they soften and he breathes.

"Yeah. I- I trust you." He nods, looks nervous.

"You trust me enough to let go of your safety bar?" Eddie jerks his head toward the railing, still not taking his eyes off Steve. Steve's eyes move tho. From Eddie to the bar and back again.

"Maybe." Steve says, sounds uncertain. Eddie laughs, bright and beautiful, and holds his hands out in front of him, palms up.

"I won't let you fall. I promise." Eddie says, wiggles his fingers.

"You're gonna be my safety bar?" Steve asks, his throat working, but Eddie can see the color flooding back into his knuckles, his grip loosening.

"Mhm. I'll be your saftey bar. You're water wings. Training wheels?" Eddie thinks, shrugs, wiggles his fingers again. Steve smiles, huffs a laugh, and lets go.

He slids his hands into Eddie's, holding tight, Eddie holds tight right back.

"Good? Ready to move?" Eddie asks, his eyes wide and waiting.

"Yeah. I think so, yeah." Steve says, lifts his toe break off the ground and lets Eddie pull him along slowly. His knees wobbling as Eddie guides them easily across the floor, only looking behind himself every now and again.

And that's how they spend the rest of the night. Hand in hand. Eddie guiding Steve, holding his hands tight as he teaches him and helps him and keeps him steady. After awhile they end up skating side by side. The music carrying them across the floor. Steve does a few laps on his own when Eddie goes to chase Lucas, Steve marvels at how fast he is. How he moves on his skates lile he's not on wheels, like he's just running in his tennis shoes.

Steve laughs, staying close to the railing but trying not to use it as he watches Eddie fucking run and hop on fucking wheels across the rink after Lucas. Once he's caught him, Eddie does a few more laps, skating backward, fast, his feet moving and flowing past each other like liquid until he skates back to Steve, gets close, but not so close to knock him off balance.

"Doin' okay sweetheart?" Eddie asks, and there's that fucking nickname again. He always uses it when Steve is uneasy, and it always fucking makes him feel better. Steve nods.

"How the fuck do you do that?" He asks, breathless. Eddie just shrugs, nonchalant.

"Wanted to play hockey. Ice is way harder than this." He taps his foot on the wood and does a little spin, landing right back next to Steve who wobbles dangerously. Eddie catches him. Easy.

"Hmm. Not sure i like the idea of you running around with blades on your feet." Steve muses, his fingers clutching Eddie's shirt. Eddie laughs, head thrown back, deep in his belly.

"That is actually very fair. I got cut a few times." He's smiling brightly. Once Steve is steady again Eddie takes his hand and leads him away from the edge, away from the railing. Steve lets himself be led, lets Eddie guide him across the floor. Eddie never going too fast, or pulling to hard. Just stays by Steve's side, his hand in his, keeping him steady. Keeping him safe. Keeping him smiling and laughing and forgetting about how miserable he'd been at the beginning of the night.

Steve never wants to let go of his hand. And he tells Eddie this, when they're leaving the rink at the end of the night, Eddie's skates already off the wooden floor. Steve tells him he doesn't want to stop holding his hand, whispers it, all shy and sweet. A little nervous.

But Eddie smiles. Eddie smiles and tells him he doesn't have to let go.

(Im thinking i maybe remember the skating thing??? As i was writing him chasing lucas i remember the video of the dudes at the skate place!!! I hope thats the one you were talking about???? If not, here's this anyway. For you. Hahahahahah! Thank you for the ask and sorry it took ages i legit did not get a notif for this and am sad.)

#scoops-aboy86 #steddie #steddie ficlet #my writing #I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS FRIEND SORRY IT TOOK ME A LITTLE WHILE #asks

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rav-not-found · 4 months

Note

Heyy! I saw you wanted to try out writing a request or two, so here I am✨

I was wondering if I could request a Dean and/or Sam winchester x reader (sepperately if you choose to do both, like two sepperate one shots in the same post) with an established relationship where they get a motel room that only has two beds, so reader has to share a bed with the winchester they're with, and it's just some awkward fluff where both are just figuring things out in this fresh relationship

Thank you!!

there was only two beds -

I love that actually!

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Dean winchester x reader, established relationship, fluff

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Its been a Long drive to Colorado for this seemingly complicated case, it seemed like forever since you have gotten a good nights sleep and tomorrow morning you have to hit the morgue first thing if you want to see the bodies before they are transported to the funeral homes.

you want nothing more than to go kick your boots, peel the layers of clothing off of you and Finally lay down, but to your surprise when Dean opens the motel room, there was only two beds.

All three of you look at each other, unsure who should go in first or where - but before you can really think about it Sam shrugs and goes directly on the closest bed to the door, drops his things, and into the shower he goes

“what a bitch” Dean says with a roll of his eyes, making his way to the other bed before you stop him

“wait where will I sleep then??”

he looks at you a little confused, then a little awkwardness can be seen on his usually confident face

“I- uhm” he clears his throat, “I assumed we’d sleep together?- I mean- not like that- of course not like that its been a long day but I meant- if you dont want to I can sleep on the couch its fine-“

you find it hard not to crack a smile at the usually confident and full of bravado Dean who is now closer to an awkward teenager in his first sleep over

“oh no no its okay- im- don’t worry its alright I don’t mind-“ you say with a small chuckle, a little awkward yourself

he goes to put his bag away and places yours next to it, he unpacks a change of clothes for himself and then looks at you hesitantly before reaching into your bag and getting one for you as well

and for a moment there between the silent movements and shuffling of fabrics, you get to see how softly he holds your belongings, how much care and love he exudes for a pair of pants or an old band t-shirt, and god if you could fall in love all over again….

he gets up from where he had placed the bags on the ground and hands the fresh clothes to you, avoiding eye contact like the plague of course.

“..Thanks Dean, appreciate it”

“yeah dont mention it” he risks a look at your soft smile, and a blush starts to creep up his neck, to which he quickly breaks the moment “SAM ARE YOU GONNA BE THERE ALL NIGHT?? WE HAVE BEEN IN THE CAR FOR THE LAST TEN HOURS TOO YOU KNOW.”

you laugh a little at his chosen method of checking on his brother, but it actually works quite quickly as Sam comes out in the next couple of minutes and flips him off. you laugh again.

Dean asks if youd like to go in first, Sam strongly suggests you take him on that offer before he “grossens up the place”, but for deans luck youre a little more tolerant than Sam and you let him go first

the moment hes in, you can see Sam unpacking and putting things aside before he sleeps, but he throws you a look or two of acknowledgment, which make the silence a little less awkward - but not completely.

“do you think I upset him when I didnt assume we’d be sleeping in the same bed?” you asked in a low voice, hoping the walls arent too thin

Sam looks at you with a small smile and a soft look, “nah I think hes just not really used to how….normal relationships function I guess? I think hes more scared of upsetting you than anything”

“oh” it just hits you now that you might be this guys first actual relationship in years, and the awkwardness might not be only from your side of the coin “oh god did I scare him?”

Sam, now laughing, “honestly? maybe, he is a little more insecure than he lets on; but I think you can just assure him and itll be okay” he shakes the chuckle in his throat away “honestly for a couple who are both older than me, it feels like im watching a highschool first crush first relationship kind of situation”

“oh fuck off like youve never had an awkward moment before”

Sam contemplates for a moment “sure yeah, when I was 16”

and with that, you also flip him off, making his success rate of getting flipped off today 2 out of 2 times a 100%

he chuckles and seemingly actually lays down to sleep this time

and conveniently enough for you, Dean comes out of the shower just then, leaving you no time to sit alone in the unsettling motel silence

“I uh” he clears his throat again, youre starting to think he does that whenever he’s nervous “I cleaned it for you - contrary to what Sam might think Im actually good at cleaning so….youre all good to go”

he also avoids your eyes mostly saying this looking down or around before going in the beds direction while you’re going to the bathroom, when you pass each other in the middle, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and whisper a sincere thank you directly on his skin, he mumbles a “no problem” under his breath in that overly deep voice of his when hes awkward, and makes quick strides to the bed as you go to take a long awaited shower.

when you come out, all clean and fresh, you notice the clothes you are gonna wear neatly folded in pile on the bed next to a “sleeping” Dean who is so tense you could use him as a rock solid analogy, and trying to take such little space its almost funny seeing this six foot man trying to be so small

you change quietly to not wake up Sam, then slide in bed behind Dean and hug him from the back, to which he tenses even more - if thats even possible - before slowly relaxing into your hold

“you okay?” you ask in a whisper, unsure if hes gonna continue playing asleep or will actually reply to you

his reply comes half a minute later “I should be asking you that”

“and why would that be?” you say back, trying to put as much sass in a whisper as you can

“you know why.” if eye rolls could be heard, you just heard it in his voice

before you get to reply though, he continues

“im sorry I didnt really think when I was asking for the room and im so used to asking for doubles because its usually just me and Sam- I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable or assume anything I know this is all a pretty new arrangement and-“

you cut him off, “hey hey hey… Dean, its okay, I swear im not uncomfortable I was honestly just surprised by the bed sizes, it didnt look like itd fit two people, but when you said we’d be together I knew we would be able to fit because I trust your judgment okay? and I have definitely had worse sleeping arrangements than being tightly stacked next to my male-model-pretty boyfriend you know?” your voice was low but soft, full of sincerity

you can hear him chuckle lightly before turning around to face you, “its just been a while since ive had a similar… situation, with anyone - and I really dont want to fuck this up…I really like you you know?”

it was your turn to chuckle now, “I know, and I really really like you too, Dean. Believe me itd take more than a tight bed to get me to even slightly be annoyed at you, youre fine, were fine, okay?” you pause to give him a light kiss “and if Im being completely honest with you, I was kind of hoping this would happen because I really need one of your strong hugs to put my bones back in place after todays drive”

he huffs out a laugh and gives you a kiss too, “in that case, I will gladly become a weighted compression blanket” he says as he changes your positions.

now holding you impossibly close, he hugs you tightly and pulls the covers over your shoulders, with his nose in your hair and your face to his neck, you start drifting to sleep

“I love you” you say in an almost undiscernible whisper, half asleep

“I love you too” he whispers back to himself as he is sure you’re already no longer awake

he stays awake for a bit more in the quiet soft night, holding you tightly and softly smiling to himself

“I love you too” he says once more before falling victim himself to sleep

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this is my first fluff one shot since I tried writing for the first time a year ago or so so I really hope you like it !!^^

and thank you for the request^^

#dean winchester #Dean winchester x reader #fluff #awkward fluff #Sam winchester #gender ambiguous reader

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wooahaeruby · 3 months

Text

Chapter 1: I Always Need You

Chapter Word Count: 2,303

Anything in Bold Italics are Korean/Another language.

Master List | Next

For over a millennia, everyone received a Soulmate Mark on their eighteenth birthday. Each mark was different, unique, and overall a personal reminder of the fate many wished to find.

In school, children were taught of the most common Soulmate Marks; timers until meeting, first words written on the skin, and sharing emotions. Some extended further and ranged in intensity; varying color blindness, being able to draw on your skin and it shows on the other’s body, some even being able to feel the pain of others. There were many cases where a pair would have two forms of a Soulmate Mark. On the other side, when soulmates finally meet and the bond connects, the pair need their soulmate to continue to live. Being away from each other for long leads to loss of appetite, sickness, and – at worst – death.

Growing up, you were a strong believer in what a soulmate signified. Someone who you were going to spend the rest of your life with, your better half, someone who was destined for you. However, your interest in meeting your soulmate and living your life with that person became questionable with some of the matches fate seemed to make. Your parents were no different.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday in 2015, you reluctantly had been dragged to your best friend’s house with a group of your small, close knit group. You were the third to turn 18, which was going to make this event a tradition until the youngest of the group in November.

“This is stupid. You guys know I’m not into soulmate stuff anymore.” You said, watching your second Soulmate movie of the night, curled under a blanket between Jay, your best friend, and Nilah.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jay lift her head from your shoulder and turn herself to you. Jay was a hopeless romantic, her parents were a perfect match along with her grandparents, aunts, and uncles. She was the second to receive her mark, total color blindness, and while that in itself was something devastating without a soulmark, she was crying tears of joy.

Sitting on the other couch in Jay’s basement, Taylor and Amelia perked up to listen to the conversation.

“Oh come on, just because your parents fall under the, like, 10 percent of soulmates that don’t work out, doesn’t mean that will be happy with you.” Jay defended, squaring her shoulders to face you properly. “Plus, you can get your soul-mark and if you don’t have a countdown, then you can just avoid people like the plague if you want! But at least give it a chance.”

Staring at each other with equally annoyed expressions, you know deep down some part of you wanted to know… But you had a hard time admitting that out loud.

The movie played in the background, keeping the room filled with sound despite the silent standoff the two of you were in.

Taylor cleared their throat and spoke up. “Listen, why don’t we just hang out, play some weird meme videos on Youtube, and just not pressure Y/N so much with the soulmate thing. When midnight hits, we don’t make that big of a deal with it. Deal?”

Glancing over to Taylor, both you and Jay just nod. Amelia took it upon herself to turn the movie off and changed the app to YouTube. Briefly her and Taylor discussed the video to put on. On the other side of you, Nilah curled closer to you; she had always been more of a quiet comforter rather than an outspoken or confrontational. Back three months ago, she had been the first to get her soulmark, simply feeling each other's emotions. She was one of the people you leaned on besides Jay when your parents fell out, she was your shoulder to cry on when the latter wasn’t available.

For the next hour, you flipped from video to video, discussing and laughing every so often. Despite the little argument, Jay had settled back beside you, squishing you between her and Nilah. Between the calm, the quiet ring of a phone alarm went off, marking the time of five minutes to midnight.

Taking a deep breath, you removed yourself from the human sandwich and dropped to the floor, sitting criss-cross as you stripped off your sweatshirt, leaving you in a pair of shorts and a tank top. The others took no time to gather up to form a circle with you to watch if any physical marks show.

“Alright, if you start to feel different emotions than what you are feeling now, pain you know you aren’t in, or any other changes, let us know, we’ll look for any physical stuff.” Nilah said softly, taking your hand gently to give a sense of comfort.

Nodding, you felt the anxiety bubble up in your stomach to your chest. Your heart rate became elevated and subtle nausea started to set in. Some part of you was trying to push down the fear that came from thinking of meeting your soulmate based on your experience watching your mother and father crumble. You told yourself you were going to be okay, that however the person was, they would be a good person, someone who would hopefully love you, care for you, and most importantly, wouldn’t intentionally hurt you with the soulmate bond.

With idle chatter to fill the void of waiting, you evened out your breathing the best you could, trying to focus on the good aspects of the whole situation. No matter what, you were always going to be surrounded by your friends who supported you and wanted nothing more than your happiness.

“It’s midnight!” Jay squeaked out, eyes focusing on your skin for any change.

Then you felt it. Your breath caught in your throat and the feeling of a headache was slowly creeping around your head to put pressure behind your eyes. Your body felt sore, especially your feet, however that was more overshadowed by the headache-turned-migraine. That had made you nauseous all over again. Keeping your eyes open despite the pain, you looked from your feet, up your legs, then to your forearms to your wrists. There it stood strikingly against the skin of your wrist; a countdown timer, the seconds counting down with every passing moment.

The anxiety you once felt was quickly washed away by a feeling of exhaustion but was accompanied by a sense of contentment. It settled heavy in your chest, calming you, even lulling you some to sleep if you would let it.

“They’re awake at least,” You begin, “and have a massive headache, but they feel, god how do you explain it, content and tired? Accomplished? I can’t pinpoint it…”

“7 years, 1 month, 17 days, and counting down..” Taylor mumbled, pulling out their phone to look up the date. “September 6, 2022. God, that's a long time from now.”

“I mean, hey, that’s after college! Maybe you’ll meet a business guy or something.”

With the headache continuing on, you all agree to discuss more another time, needing some time to process and rest away from the pounding behind your eyes.

It was mid-day when the sudden rush of emotions hit him; uneasiness and worry. Sitting in the mostly quiet studio after a long but successful dance practice, he held back the urge to throw up in the trash can beside his desk.

“ Oh god- ” He muttered out, only for the producer beside him to take notice of the shift in the other’s position.

“ Ya, Woozi, are you okay? ” The other asked, rolling his chair closer to check up on the boy.

Jihoon’s face contorted, running a hand through his hair and breathing in deep to hopefully subside the uncomfortable nausea. The headache he was already dealing with wasn’t helping the current situation at hand. He waved his hand as a way to motion that he was okay, but he stayed pretty still in case the nausea got worse. Thankfully, the feeling passed though he frowned. That wasn’t his own feelings.

Eyes growing wide, his head whipped up to meet the eyes of Bumzu, blinking a few times before another feeling flooded his senses; calm and fatigue.

“ Jihoon-ah, really, are you okay? You look like a deer in headlights. ” Bumzu asks again, his concern more prominent on his features the more the other’s silence dragged on.

“ Hyung…It’s more than just a countdown.”

For the rest of the afternoon, the shared emotional bond was quiet on his end. On his own wrist rested the same countdown you had, time slowly ticking away. At one point he had zoned out of composing and simply stared at the numbers.

Soulmates were something many people wanted, he knew that. He also knew that soulmates meant giving up some part of yourself to be attached to another person when the bond between the pair settled after meeting. His parents were a perfect match but like every couple, they have disagreements. No one was perfect, which is what he told himself, and he also knew that finding your soulmate is an amazing experience despite the slight drawbacks. Based on math alone, he would be nearly twenty-six by the time he was to meet the other half to his pair.

Moving in a daze, Jihoon made his trek back to the dorm. With only a few months into debut, life was already hectic and unpredictable. Even the brotherhood him and his members had created predebut to now, there was a bit of a nervous tension that surrounded them. Most of the members like himself have received their Soulmarks, all that was the last of the ‘97 line – Minghao – and maknae line. With all thirteen of them shoved into a single dorm together, they usually sat together on the night before the member’s eighteenth birthday and hung around until something happened. Jokes were always thrown around, they usually ordered a decent amount of food despite the current low earnings.

Entering the dorm was similar to entering into a war zone. Shows were piled messily in the entryway, clothes were thrown haphazardly across the floors, and headache inducing noise flowed through the halls and rooms. Tonight was no different. Somewhere in the dorm he heard bantering and arguing, there was a voice singing – one he pinpointed to be Seungkwan –, and the miscellaneous sound of normal life living.

“ I’m home. ” He called out, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face.

A chorus of voices greeted him as he entered the living room, finding Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, and Dino sitting in the living room playing a card game together.

“ Oh hyung, welcome home. ” Dino greeted warmly with a smile on his face. Beside him, Jeonghan attempted to lean over and spy on the cards in his hand. The former whined and slapped his cards to his chest while Joshua and Jeonghan laughed between themselves.

Jihoon hummed in acknowledgement, dropping his backpack and took up the space on the floor between Joshua and Seungcheol. For the rest of the game, Jihoon simply watched in quiet contemplation, the words of his chosen brothers sounding rather distant and incomplete.

“ ...Zi-...Jihoonie? ” Seungcheol placed his hand over the smaller man’s shoulder, breaking him from his train of thought. “ Are you okay? You look out of it. ”

Suddenly, there were four sets of eyes on him, looks of concern mixed with curiosity. He shifted his gaze between each of them in quick succession before they landed at the table between them.

“ After practice, I was in the studio with Bumzu-hyung. We were in the middle of working on a new track and I felt…I think I felt what my soulmate was feeling because it wasn’t my own. ” He began, clearing his throat to speak up a little more. “ It felt like a punch to my gut and I haven’t felt anything since then. ”

On his shoulder, he felt the hand there squeeze and the voice to follow sounded collected and calm. “ Okay, that was probably a lot to take in. ” Seungcheol kept his hand firm on Jihoon’s shoulder, grounding him. “ Maybe, your soulmate is asleep, for all you know they are in another timezone, another country, and you will feel things once they are awake. You have two forms of soulmark though, so things might throw you off until you get used to it. ”

The rational side of Jihoon knew he was right, on the other side of him Joshua placed a hand on his leg and gave it a simple pat to reassure him along with their leader. On the irrational side – which was being yelled at by the other side seeing he still had a countdown on his wrist –, Jihoon held this tiny feeling of apprehension.

“ Maybe they are some hot shot that will knock you on your ass in seven years. ” Jeonghan chimes in, a shit eating grin plastered on his features. “ Or some big music producer one day. Who knows, maybe they’ll give you a run for your money. ”

“ Hey, sorry to interrupt but I think Hoshi and Seungkwan are about to kill each other over whose clothes are whose in their room. ” Walking nonchalantly into the living room, Wonwoo’s typical deadpan expression was met with Seungcheol’s exasperated but annoyed one.

“ And here I wanted to have an easy night where we can also relax but no, I have two of the trio at each other’s neck. Again. ” Removing his hand from Jihoon’s shoulder, the leader stood, stretching his limbs some before following Wonwoo out of the room. “ Yah, can’t we have one evening without fighting!?”

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #seventeen jihoon #woozi x reader #svt woozi #soulmate au #seventeen soulmate au #seventeen fic #svt x reader

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dykevanny · 3 months

Note

Pls yap abt system Vanessa more I need to know more so curious!!

here’s some misc things. I’m eepyyy

I think vanessa and vanny are both artists, ness works more realistically and likes acrylic while van’s the one with the spraypaints n cartoons<3 it would loveeeee to fuck around w ink tho i think.

Vanny’s age is weird, ness was 8 when they first split and van was around 12 then but she hasn’t aged much more than 2 years. Sometimes its age changes randomly though, but it usually defaults back to 14 these days.

I think it’s easy for Greg to tell who’s fronting because ness makes an effort to have good posture (ahh the back pain demons) while vanny is a hunched over beastie (used to bunny feet also). On the flip side, vanny spends a lot more energy masking,(afteraffect of dealing with ness’s dad) at least until greg makes her a new bunny mask. It makes her feel safe.

Ness definitely fronts more often but vanny specifically avoids work and other responsibility-related things like the plague, little beast. She takes over cooking for ness tho, as long as knives aren’t involved.

Vanny knows JACK SHIT about repairing robots but she knows some coding. Ness is the tech expert of the two.

#Ok thats all

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hogwartsandhawkins · 1 year

Text

Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 4: Looking For Good

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Telling Steve she has a new ride to school doesn't go so well.

Warnings: Swearing (but what's new) Billy bullying Max briefly. Also, Billy pressuring reader (Jess) into letting him give her a ride. (I include this because the reader says no after second-guessing her decision, causing Billy to push back, which can have some underlying themes for some, and I wanted to be sensitive to that.) As always, please let me know if I miss anything.

Word Count: 2.4K

Author's note: I know I know, I haven't posted in forever. Moving back to the States was an EVENT, to say the least. I have also been working on this for a while, many chapters are already written and I'll post them as soon as I feel they have been reread enough for them to be slightly okay.

Jess awoke that Sunday morning as she did every Sunday morning: already thinking of an excuse to not attend church that her parents would buy into. Luckily, she didn’t really need to think of one for long as she already had plans to invite Steve over to finally “help” him with his physics project. She was surprised her parents haven’t taken the hint by now, considering that she has been avoiding that place like the 10 plagues of Egypt ever since she experienced the capabilities of the upside down, and of course, Eleven. But since skipping downstairs and laying out why she refused to go was a blatant impossibility, she merely explained that Steve needed her help. Thankfully, she didn’t have parents like Steve. Instead of the guilt trip, she received a slightly disappointed “tisk” from her mother, who then told her they’d miss her.

Jess watched as her parents exited through the garage door, which was located next to the pantry in the kitchen, then proceeded to dial the Harrington’s line. She knew Steve would be up, as his parents were always explaining how if he wouldn’t go to church, he at least needed to be productive on his Sunday mornings, which involved him getting up at the same time as Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, at least when they were home.

“Yup?” Steve’s voice was groggy and laced with what Jess sensed as resentment, most likely caused by his mother’s usual “seize the day” spiel followed by her opening the blinds that shielded Steve’s bedroom from the unwelcomed amount of light.

“Good morning to you too, Harrington.”

His voice seemed to pick up a bit when he heard who was on the other side of the phone. “Oh hey, Jess, how’s your morning been? Better than mine I hope…” Steve’s voice lowered to a whisper at the last part he added.

Jess ignored the question and went straight into asking him to come over so they could finally get his physics project out of the way. With the promise of Steve being allowed to hide out for the rest of the day at her house and an afternoon nap, he quickly agreed and was knocking on the Logan’s door in no more than 20 minutes.

Steve set the box full of different shaped and sized lenses, stands, a light, and everything else Steve was instructed by Jess to bring. “So. How was Friday with Hargrove?” He visibly tensed as he said his name, shaking his head in disgust after thinking about it for too long.

“It was fine.” Jess tried to avoid eye contact as she began setting up his quick focal point experiment, bringing out the ruler as she set up the first lens.

“Fine? That’s all you have to say about a day with Hargrove? Fine?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at Steve’s response, “What did you expect?”

“Really?” was all he could say. He flipped the switch of the battery-powered light to “on”, and then gave Jess a knowing, disapproving look. She didn’t even have to look back at him to know exactly what Steve was expecting: a disaster.

“I mean, he, unfortunately, has a thing for my mom, I’m pretty sure. But it’s Hargrove. He’s gross. That’s about it.”

Jess didn’t know how to tell him that it really wasn’t that bad, or worse, that she may have had an okay time studying with him this weekend. She was also now realizing she didn’t know how to tell him that Billy Hargrove was under the impression that he would be taking her to school tomorrow morning.

She decided maybe the best approach was to do so while Steve was distracted, so as they continued replacing the lenses and repositioning the stand, she started out slowly. “So… you know how Max and Billy live, like, right down the street?”

“Uh-huh…” Steve didn’t look up from his notes, working out the equation for the last lens they set up.

“Well, Max and him were wanting to give me a ride Monday… To school I mean.”

Unfortunately for Jess, he was well aware Max and him just meant him, so he looked up from his notes, amused at the thought of Jess turning him down. “Ha! Did Hargrove throw a fit when you told him ‘No’?”

“He didn’t really accept ‘no’ for an answer…” Not that I exactly tried hard enough to tell him “No”.

Steve dropped his notebook on her coffee table with a plop and then turned back his attention to Jess, who was now holding a tight-lined smile on her face, ready for the anticipated ridicule she was about to receive. “Oh come on. You know, kid, you really need to grow a backbone.”

“I honestly think you’re making it out to be worse than it is. I mean, Max will be there. Plus, it’d save you the time and the gas. I’m like the opposite direction of school for you anyways.”

Steve considered this for about a millisecond before shaking his head rapidly, “I’m sorry, call me crazy, but it seems like you want him to pick you up.” When Jess didn’t answer right away, he continues, “Oh Jesus H, you’re not serious!”

“No! I don’t want him to, but I mean… I think he just wants to study one last time before school, you know, for the quiz and stuff…”

“Look, I don’t like the idea of you around him. When I came to that night in the back of that car and you weren’t there, I freaked.” He then lets out a sigh before continuing, “You just need to be careful with him is all I’m saying.”

“I am.” But that was a lie. There was nothing careful about what was going on. There was nothing careful about him coming over to her room, being able to look through the intimacies of her life. There was nothing careful about spending time at his home, alone with him. There was nothing careful about allowing herself to laugh at his jokes, or allowing him to buy not only her but her parents dinner. And there was nothing careful about getting in the car with him, giving him permission to take her wherever he wanted.

As if reading her mind, he ducked down slightly to meet her gaze, “Jess. I promise. You’re looking for good where there isn’t any.” He then gave her a sympathetic smile and picked up his notebook, continuing to jot down what he thought was the correct answer to the equation.

After a few hours and many corrections made by Jess, they were finally done with the physics lab. She assured Steve they could pick up the materials later and allowed him the couch to take that nap he was promised, and after she made sure she heard him snoring, she grabbed three muffins from the container in the fridge and walked over to the Hargrove/Mayfield household.

As it was three in the afternoon, she wasn’t sure whether Billy would be home from work, but seeing his Camaro in the driveway answered her question of whether or not to knock on the door. It seemed as though Max and Billy were the only two home, something Jess was grateful for considering her first run-in with Mr. Hargrove was not as pleasant as most of her run-ins with other adults. When Max opened the door, she looked excited to see her, but immediately looked behind her and shut the door, holding in her excitement until she was sure Billy couldn’t hear.

“Hey! Oh, you should have seen Dustin’s hair Friday! It was insane.” Max then realizes Jess is holding not one, but three muffins in her hand, and cocks her head to the left. “Are all of those for me?”

“Well, one is, but I’m actually here to talk to Billy for a few seconds. Is he here?”

Max took one of the muffins, bit into it, and then proceeded to talk in between bites. “Ew. Why?”

“It’s about him taking me to school on Monday…”

At this, Max’s distaste turns back into excitement. “Wait, we’re taking you with us?”

“Well, no, not anymore, I was thinking I’d stick to Steve taking me to school.”

“MAX! WHO’S AT THE DOOR?!”

“NOBODY!” Max rolled her eyes before continuing, “Please, please, pleeeaaasee let us pick you up tomorrow. He might actually not be such an ass if you’re there.” As she finished her pleading, the door swung open, with none other than Billy Hargrove standing at the entrance.

“Hey, princess, couldn’t wait to see me?” It was Jess’s turn to roll her eyes as she handed the remaining two muffins to Billy.

“Hey! Why does he get two?”

Jess ignored Max’s annoyed expression and proceeded to change the subject. “So I’m just going to ride with Steve tomorrow. Don’t worry about picking me up.”

Before Billy could respond, Max continued from earlier, “Tell Steve we’ll bring you to school in one piece.”

“You heard the little shit, we’ll make sure to take real good care of you. Plus, I need you in the morning.”

“Why?” Max’s look of disgust made a return, which seemed to irritate Billy as he coldly looked back at her and ordered her back inside.

“She can stay if she wants to stay.” Jess began to remember why she took a disliking to him in the first place. It was easy to forget how… awful... Billy could be if he wasn’t sitting there joking with you, actively trying to be nice to you. You’re looking for good where there isn’t any. The thought made Jess clench her jaw only slightly, but enough to make Billy notice. “Yeah, I’ll just ride with Steve. See you, Hargrove.” She then allowed herself to give him a short smile before heading back in the direction of her home.

He had only watched her walk away for a second until he decided he needed to catch up to her, not liking how that conversation ended. Billy pushed the muffins at Max without thinking and started striding after Jess. “Hang on there, Logan,” he mocked the way she spat out his own last name, “You gotta help me study before the quiz.”

“I don’t gotta do anything.” There it was: the attitude that Billy was sure they have gotten passed. It made him pull his body back in recoil, being discomforted by the thought that she may not have been warming up to him this weekend after all. Sure, it really had only been two days, but he was enjoying her company, considering it was better compared to who usually kept him company, and he could have sworn she felt the same, at least a little bit? “Look, I already promised I wouldn’t say anything about our reading sessions or your dad, okay? You don’t need to keep an eye on me. I’ll see you for our next project.”

“Keep an eye on you? Did I do something wro-“

“I don’t like the way you talk to Max.” She blurted out, which surprised both her and Billy, and when Billy couldn’t think of anything else to say, she continued, “I don’t like the way you talk to anyone actually. Or about anyone. Or with anyone. You- you’re just. You don’t…” Jess didn’t know any other way to say it, “You’re not a nice person, Billy. And I don’t have time for that. So thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested.” She stayed looking at Billy, who refused to look anywhere other than his feet. He began to run his tongue across his top row of teeth, mouth shut and downturned, and began to nod, as if he was thinking about what was said. He then looked up, still not at her, but to her house where he saw a familiar vehicle in her driveway: Pretty Boy’s BMW.

Makes sense. He thought to himself. “So I’m guessing King Steve didn’t approve when you told him, huh?”

The question irritated Jess even more. Not just for the mere fact that Billy didn’t believe she could make her own decisions, but just hours ago Steve accused her of the same. “I can decide for myself who takes me where. Thanks.” Silence. “Did you not listen to a thing I said? I said I don’t want to be around you because you’re an asshole, not because Steve said ‘no’!”

“Oh no, I heard you, Jess. It just seems weird to me that last night you were completely fine with me taking you and now when Steve’s over, you tell me to fuck off.”

“When did I ever say I wanted you to take me to school? When you asked me, or excuse me, told me you were taking me, did I once say, ‘yes’? Did I once ask you to take me to school?” Billy was now looking at Jess with an expression she didn’t recognize, which made her uncomfortable enough to look away.

“Can I take you to school tomorrow, please?” But the softness in his voice jerked her gaze back to him, trying to analyze him, to see if there was any hint of insincerity. He quickly looked over his shoulder before continuing. “You’re right. I didn’t ask. And I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes, but shi-Max wants you to come with, and, I… want you to too. So.” This made Jess furrow her brows. In some ways, he was right. She had every intention of going with him until this morning. She wanted to help him study, considering how much work he put into their reading sessions this weekend. But of course, Steve was also right. There was no way around it, Billy was a dick. To his sister, to his sister’s friends, to her friends, even to his own friends.

When it was made obvious to Billy she didn’t seem ready to respond, he sighed and continued, “Look, I’ll be at your house at the same time I told you last night, if you don’t come out then I’ll leave, okay?”

“I’ll help you study.” Is all Jess said in response to his offer, and began to walk back to her house. Billy took what he could get and nodded after she had already turned away, and did the same, returning back to his house. Billy didn’t realize that Max stayed out by their doorway, attempting to watch the whole thing. Before he could give her shit for being nosey, he replayed Jess’s words in his head. “Give me those,” is all he said as he took the muffins from her hands and went back to his weights.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove stranger things #billy deserved better #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #billy x reader #billy hargrove antis dni #antis dni #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2

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thewisaaaaad · 1 month

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ALRIGHT SO this is how everything goes wrong! part one :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

it was going perfectly.

Hypnos managed to contain their bitter malace toward the bishops of plague, famine, and chaos long enough to secure their aid.

the lamb was trained to wield curses by Kallamar.

They had their strength bolstered by Hekets food and endurance training

They learned how to predict the unpredictable and avoid danger with Leshy.

They even convinced the 3 repentant bishops to work on a ritual to break the chains they guarded, while the lamb pursued the final sibling.

The sibling that had betrayed the other four, and put the blame on the third.

Now, Hypnos stood before the final obstacle: the temple of War, the traitorous bishop. It loomed high into the darkness of the cave, and beyond the massive door that slowly opened to permit progress the False Lamb could hear the skittering of a very angry god.

time to finish this.

Hypnos entered the ruins, casting their eyes around the dark room, before settling on a dark shape that hung from the ceiling, dangling in the center like a massive stalactite, or perhaps a agitated chandelier would be more apt, with how their eyes and crown glowered at them with purple tinted enmity.

The shadow that was shamura flashed their mandibles as they spoke: "He of havoc, he of blight; she of hunger, they of might. Five becomes four becomes three becomes two becomes one becomes nothing." Candles begin to light around the room, the temple becoming filled with light that somehow still contained shadows that lurked at the edges.

Hypnos flinched at the sudden flash, but no loud boom followed.

"Stop speaking in riddles and fight me, coward!"

The accursed spider only chuckled, beckoning the servants that had remained undetected by the lamb until now, surging forth with raised knives as Shamura dropped from the ceiling with a flip to land on their feet.

"Foolish lamb, you come to me after hiding from me for years? Yet still, you claim i am the coward."

the cultist reached Shamuras side, and as they raised their knives in preparation to sacrifice themselves, Hypnos recognized the ritual that resulted in the deaths of dozens of Shamuras followers.

A ritual of power, that would temporarily enhance the subject by gifting them a divine form to smite the gods enemies. Hypnos knew this ritual very well indeed.

Narinder designed it for his siblings, after all. he couldn't stop talking about the breakthrough it was.

Narinder had never thought it would be used against him like this. against family.

As the spider rose into the air, drinking deep of the devoted souls of the fools that followed them, they twitched violently as they expanded into a form that would facilitate combat: many, many sharp legs extended from their body, with their abdomen providing a secondary set of organs to prevent one failure of an organ from bringing the whole beast down.

"very well, corpse," the monster rasped, clicking its mandibles, "show me my cowardice."

Hypnos grinned, cradiling a ball of energy that crackled and sizzled in their outstretched hand, casting the lambs face into sharp relief with red light, glinting off of the sharp fangs in their twisted smile.

They would at least get to kill one of Narinders torturers. They had only promised to try and convince them to change, and all the bishops had been frustratingly cooperative and apologetic, but now. now.

he could have some vengeance for deaths suffering.

#yeah hypnos is kind of a psycho #cotl #cult of the lamb #i really don't know what i'm doing #cotl au #cotl lamb #cotl shamura #sins of the gods au

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my-own-walker · 10 months

Text

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

17.

Learn to let go of what's not meant to be held.

It's easier said than done, but it must be done. It's something that carried me through the days leading up to Halloween. I felt that any feelings toward Kyle, negative or positive, were not meant to stay. I used everything I could to distract myself.

I didn't dare look in his direction during class on Monday. The goal was to remain transfixed on my note-taking. I listened to music wherever and whenever I could, avoiding Sonic Youth like the plague for obvious reasons.

Lily took me everywhere she went if she and I didn't have class. We took a trip to a nearby shopping center to get our Halloween costumes in order.

"Hannah, would this cover my ass?" Lily asked, holding up the shortest red pleather skirt I had ever seen.

"Not a chance in hell," I laughed, turning my attention back to the rack I had been flipping through. She sighed loudly, dropping her arms down to her sides. "Wear shorts underneath. Or bloomers."

"It took me this damn long to find a red skirt, how will I find red shorts for underneath?" she whined, exasperated.

"Get your ass to work, Davies."

She planned to be a cute little devil, complete with horns and a pitchfork. She had already bought a headband with dainty sequined horns fastened on it and a black bustier top embellished with chunky red rhinestones. I, of course, was to be the angel. I already found a small pair of white wings.

My idea was to be an angel in the way Juliet was in the 1996 movie version of Romeo and Juliet. So when my eyes landed upon the long, empire-waisted white dress on the rack, I nearly squealed in the middle of the store.

Lily got invited to a party that was to be at the TKE house on Halloween. She asked me, very delicately, if I'd like to attend it with her. While my every instinct was screaming "no," I kept true to letting go of things that were not to be held. While my fears over what happened were very real, I did not want to rot away in my apartment for the remainder of my college experience.

Thursday, aka Halloween, was spent skipping class and running last-minute errands. We bought some red lipstick for Lily, a pack of rubber bands for my hair, and most importantly, liquor. I would only feel safe if we were drinking our own liquor.

We sat getting ready in my room, Lily sitting on the floor, my full-length mirror just inches from her face as she leaned in close to paint on some eyeliner. I sat at my desk with a tabletop mirror, creating two small braids in my hair that I would form into a halo with pins and elastics. Arctic Monkeys albums played softly over my small speaker.

"How are you feeling?" Lily asked, breaking the lapse in conversation.

"Me?"

"No, the other person in this room right now," she snarked. I turned to look at her. She had moved on to brushing blush over her cheeks. I opted for minimal makeup, so I was already done. She still needed her hair done.

"I'm a little nervous, I guess," I admitted, "but I think this will be fun."

"Just let me know if you want to leave and we will. No questions asked," she said sternly. "I'm not playing any games tonight. I will kill a motherfucker if I have to."

I pinned down one braid and dropped my hands into my lap, then turned to face her. "I love you, Lily. Seriously. You are my best friend."

"Don't on me with the sentimental shit right now, Martin. I will kiss you," she joked, turning to face me.

"I dare you," I replied, then breaking out into a fit of laughter.

We got to the party around 11. It was already in full swing. We got rather drunk while pre-gaming at the apartment, so no part of me cared about how crowded it was. I guessed everybody's week must have been tough, though. Everyone was drunk, loud, or pissed off.

On the front stoop alone, there were two sets of people arguing about god knows what. The front door opened to a barrage of music and voices. It smelled of latex and hairspray with all of the Halloween costumes inside. We found a place to settle in the second living room along the wall.

It wasn't long before Lily found someone she knew and disappeared into the crowd. Not before asking me if I would be okay alone roughly thirty times. I insisted everything would be fine. I was confident I could find someone to talk to.

I meandered around for a while, stopping here and there to chat with a few people I vaguely knew. It was when I crossed into the kitchen, though, that my stomach turned. Standing next to the doorway I had just walked through was a tall figure.

"Hey, angel," his deep voice spoke. This voice was low and quiet, he said a secret no one else but me could know. I turned my head to my left slowly, my gaze landing on Julian's deep, tired eyes. His full lips curled into a wry smile.

Before, the way he towered over me was endearing. Something that gave me butterflies. At this moment, though it felt downright terrifying. Suffocating, even. He could easily overpower me and cause me harm.

Without a word, I turned on my heel, crashing into the poor girl in the cat costume standing behind me. "S-sorry, I-" I stammered, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady myself before bolting for the front door.

The night was cool. I rushed to the edge of the stoop where there was a railing and gripped it for dear life, letting the cold metal remind me I was on Earth. I took in the fresh air of the night, but it was soured by a cigarette smell, making it clear that I was not alone. A boy with a mop of tight curls smirked over at me.

"Wanna smoke?" he offered, holding out his cigarette to me. "You look like you need it."

"Fuck it," I muttered, grabbing it from him and taking a long drag. I handed it back to him and blew a large cloud of smoke out into the night.

"You're Hannah?" he asked, unprompted, before taking a drag.

"Yes...what's it to you?" I inquired, brow furrowed. I was growing tired of men and their stupid attempts to talk to me.

"I'm Lance. Lance Hamont," he answered while exhaling smoke. He held out the cigarette for me again and I took it. "I'm in KLG."

I took a drag and blew it out upwards. "Right, right. I don't think we've ever formally met."

"Yeah, I've just seen you a lot is all. Guess that's how I knew you'd need a smoke," he chuckled.

"Oh?"

"You know, dealing with Kyle and all," he shrugged before inhaling more smoke. "I've seen you come through the house a lot this semester." His voice sounded funny as he tried to hold in the cigarette's vapors.

"That was for a project, that's all" I answered quickly, trying to end the Kyle subject. "He was my project partner for a class."

"Really?" he asked, cocking his head. "You weren't dating? The amount he talked about you I figured you were."

"Talked about me?" I exaggeratedly repeated. I reached for the cigarette and he handed it over. I took in a large puff of smoke and held it in for a beat longer like Lance had just done.

"Oh god, all the time. Just this week even," he scoffed. "You two close at least?"

"Not really," I trailed off, growing despondent. I handed him the cigarette back while staring off into middle distance.

"Damn," he laughed. "He's always mentioning 'Hannah' -er, you, in conversation. That's weird."

"Yeah..." I whispered, backing up a few steps before turning to walk inside. "Thanks, Lance."

"You owe me a smoke next time I see you!" he called after me.

I don't even smoke. I replied in my thoughts.

I found Lily in the front room sitting on a side table. She was talking to a girl in a cute sailor costume. I grabbed her shoulder to make my presence known.

"Hey, baby!" she exclaimed. Party vibes had already gotten to her. "Maddie, you've met Hannah, right?"

"Yes!" the sailor, Maddie, smiled. I didn't remember meeting her ever, but I returned the smile and nodded.

"Right," I grinned.

"I was just talking to the most interesting person, Hannah," Lily smirked, raising her eyebrows. Maddie got bored and turned away to speak to someone else. "He was asking how you were."

"God, I can't even deal right now," I groaned. I screwed my eyes shut and tilted my head back. The night was already annoying enough as it was. No answer she was going to give me was going to make things any better.

"Who was asking about me?"

Previous Part | Next Part

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer fanfic

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 25 (BAU X y/n Hotchner)

No. 25 SILENCE IS GOLDEN

Lost Voice | Duct Tape | “You better start talking.”

Warnings: cold/flu, illness

Word count: 1591

Please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings

”Baby Hotch,” Emily smirked, “Adult Hotch wants to see you,” You groaned lowly, coughing when it tickled your throat. You gave a weak sniff.

“Old Hotch can annoy me greatly sometimes,” You huffed before standing up and making your way to your brother’s office.

You gave another sniff and swallowed, wincing at the pain in your throat before you opened the door.

“Agent Hotchner Junior reporting for duty sir,” You grinned, hoping he didn’t notice that your voice was slightly deeper than usual.

“Go home, (Y/N),” Aaron said with a sigh, he pushed his paperwork to the side as he looked at you.

“I’m not ill,” You responded, voice deeper than usual, thick will the cold you currently had. "I've just got a bit of a tickle in the back of my throat," Aaron gave a deep sigh.

"You're ill,"

"Nu-uh!" You replied, sniffing slightly. "I'm perfectly fine,"

"Go home,"

"I'm not ill, I'm fine," You and Aaron stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first. Aaron sighed.

"If you won't go home, I'm benching you.”

“We don’t have a case,” You said, seeing Aaron’s face you groaned, “We have a case?”

“You're not to leave the police station when we get there,"

"What about coffee runs?" You asked, folding your arms.

"Take Morgan with you for coffee runs,"

"Aaron-"

"Ah, nope, don't want to hear it, those are my terms,"

"Fine," You said with a sniff, breathing through your mouth since your nose was blocked. "But I'm perfectly fine."

You left the room, holding back a pout as you did so. Honestly, your brother can be so ridiculous at times. You were perfectly fine, he was just dramatic.

"This is so unfair," You huffed, slumping in your seat next to Morgan, who gave a chuckle. You folded your arms close to your chest. “It’s just a cold,”

“Right,” Emily chimed, sharing a grin with Morgan. “Your brother benching you?”

“Yep,” You groaned, “It’s so unreasonable, I’m perfectly fine,” You clear your throat to avoid coughing, but it builds up and you give a deep cough. “That was acting,” You say, seeing your brother give you a look. Aaron rolls his eyes, causing you to scoff. "You believe me Derek, don't you?"

"Stay away from me man, I don't want whatever plague you've got,"

"I don't know, Aaron said you had to go on Coffee runs with me," You grinned.

"Aw, what? That's so unfair," Morgan chuckled, you flipped him off with a laugh, which quickly morphed into a cough. You rolled your eyes at the look Aaron shot you, trying to mask the wince that painted your face when a pain behind your eyes exploded due to the headache that was slowly beginning to make itself known.

You leant closer to Morgan, "You got any paracetamol?"

"Nope," You looked at your coworkers as they all shook their heads.

"Hotch normally carries some," Reid chimed. You thought for a moment before straightening up.

"Nope, that won't be necessary because I am not ill," You said, folding your arms. Your voice was beginning to feel scratchy and hoarse, which was annoying but you pushed it aside the best you could.

Boarding the jet, you huffed, pulling your hoodie closer around your body. It suddenly felt very cold. You ignored the look of concern Aaron gave you and the amused looks from your peers and sat down, sniffing as you did so.

You wince as the jet takes off, causing an immense amount in your ears. Your hands go to your ears and you wiggle them about, open your jaw, move your jaw side to side, swallow, cough, anything you can think of that might help relieve the pressure - you even try sniffing. But nothing works. Aaron silently hands over a boiled sweet. You think they’re discussing the case but you can’t tell, everything sounds like it’s underwater, a lot of water. You put the sweet in your mouth, sucking on it and hoping it’ll decrease the pressure. After a few minutes of nothing working you turn to Aaron, motioning angrily to your ears and then shrug. You don’t want to speak in case you start yelling. That would just be embarrassing. You watch as Aaron turns to Spencer, you assume he asks if there’s anything else that would help and you see Spencer say something before Aaron turns back to you. He says something, when he speaks you shake your head and shrug again - Aaron rolls his eyes, which has you glaring at him. Aaron puts his fingers over his nose, plugging it and mimes trying to breathe out.

You nod, you can’t believe you forgot that trick! You plug your nose and try to breathe out, feeling the tension build up before releasing. “You’re a lifesaver, Spencer,” You say.

You were hoping it wouldn’t get any worse over the course of the case, you had the tendency to get a little… clinging to Aaron when you’re ill. Which you knew the team would never let you live down. Ever. Luckily, you were sharing a hotel room with him, which meant you had easy access to stealing his clothes.

As the hours pass, you’re trying not to give in and show how ill you’re feeling, but you’re feeling rough. The team notice you sticking to Aaron where you can, they also notice Aaron watching you closely. You’re sniffing every thirty seconds, rubbing your eyes, unable to focus, but still pushing through.

You're two days into the case and you can't help but be relieved that your brother benched you. You were tired, you ached all over, and at about lunchtime, you began to shiver. Obviously, you weren't going to tell him that you were glad he did. You weren't going to give him that satisfaction. Instead, you wore a large and very warm hoodie and debated putting the hood up throughout the entire recap of the evidence collected thus far.

It didn't take you long after that to lose your voice. Not that that stopped you from talking. Turns out, talking only made it worse. Like a lot worse. And soon enough, your voice was simply a whisper.

“You got any paracetamol?” You croak as Aaron walks past.

“Let me grab you some-” You shook your head, he always goes into Mother Hen mode when you’re ill.

“I’ll get it,” You said, sitting up, pausing for a moment as you waited for the room to stop spinning. At this point, Aaron was already in front of you with a glass of water and medication. You gave him a thankful grin as you accepted the items.

“(Y/N), you need to go back to the hotel,” Aaron said, you were both in the breakroom, Aaron making a coffee for himself and a tea for you. You were sat at the table, resting your head on the cool wood.

“‘M fine,” You groaned, turning your head into your elbow as you coughed.

“(Y/N).”

“I don’t wanna,” You moaned.

Aaron would have laughed, if he wasn’t worried about your health. “You need rest,”

“I am resting,” You mutter.

“How about if I send Morgan with you?” Hotch offered, you shook your head, “Why not?”

“You’ll be here,”

“I have to be here,” Aaron sighs.

“I’m fine here,” You mumble, “I’ll just be ‘sleep here,”

Aaron shut his eyes, trying his best not to groan. You were already asleep. He poked his head out of the breakroom, “Morgan?”

Derek’s head shot up and Aaron motioned for him to come into the breakroom. “Can you take him back to the hotel? Maybe sit with him while you work?”

“You really do go Mother Hen on him don’t you?” Derek teased before nodding, “Of course Hotch,”

Aaron gently shook your shoulder, “(Y/N)? You need to wake up,” He said softly, “Derek’s taking you to the hotel,”

“No,” You mutter, waking up. “I don’t want to go to the hotel,”

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Aaron said, folding his arms.

“Big brother boss man said you have to,”

“Told you he goes all mother hen when I’m completely fine,” You mutter to Derek as you stand up, Derek’s hand on your shoulder, steadying you.

“This is completely fine, is it?” He asks sarcastically, “I’m pretty sure if I let go, you’d go down like a ton of bricks.”

“You’re just rude,” You mumble, causing Derek to snicker, “You’re not allowed to laugh at me, I’m ill.”

“Ah, so you are ill then,” Derek replied with a snort, you huffed.

The team took shifts keeping an eye on you in the hotel room whilst working, all except Aaron, who had to stay put in the police station until the end of the case. He only went back to the hotel for a few hours of sleep each night and a shower. Soon enough, the case was finished and the team was back on the jet on the way home. Knowing you were still feeling rough, the team let you have the couch for the flight back.

Aaron sighed, watching as you curled into a ball on the jet couch, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible whilst you slept, shivering. He grabbed the spare blanket from the other couch, carefully draping it over you.

"Just a cold my ass," He muttered before returning to his seat.

Two days later, Aaron sneezed. He was going to kick your ass the next time he saw you, when he was feeling better that is.

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calesleftboob · 1 year

Text

I'm pretty sure I'm aroace but I refuse to admit to it.

Ykw? I'm certain I'm aroace but I'm in denial

Deeeepppp in De Nile

I don't want to acknowledge that part of me at all

I just feel too alone to acknowledge it. I want that love but I know it would disgust me and I'd run away from it to never have it reach me.

I'm just chasing my own tail like a dog.

I know some people find being aroace empowering and I'll admit I do find it too. It's cool and great to be it when the world is so focused on romance and sex.

But on the flip side it is so incredibly isolating and lonely.

I want to be like the others.

I don't want to be broken like this.

I feel like myself being aroace.

But I don't want to admit it.

I don't know how to permanently be comfortable with the fact that I most likely am aroace

I just cant do it? I long for that love but I also avoid that shit like the plague.

I like imagining it but I don't want it in real life.

#aroace #Aromantic #asexual #lgbtqia #lgbtq+

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unmitigatedsuperiority · 2 years

Note

RJ!! I’m so excited for Promptober! The fics are going to be amazing!

How about Penelope x Reader, hurt/comfort? After reader is abducted during a case, the team gets them back, they are *obviously* traumatized. Penelope does her best to help them acclimate back into a routine and heal.

hello! thanks for sending! LOVE a penelope x reader request

PROMPTOBER REQUEST #2

Pairing: Penelope Garcia/Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, therapy, food

For those few days you were gone, it was as though the world had flipped on its axis. So, when Penelope got you back, she was ready to do everything in her power to make sure you got back on your feet.

Currently, she was caressing your hands, running the damp washcloth over your arms as you sat in the tub. Part of you didn’t love feeling like you needed to be taken care of, but right now you were immensely grateful for it. You tried to keep a steely exterior, avoid your mind replaying the events of the last few days. Not everyone could do so after being kidnapped by a serial killer, but you weren’t most people. You could do this. Just…slowly.

“Is touch okay?” Penelope asked. You hesitated, stiffening. “It’s okay if you need some time.” Her reassurances softened you.

You blew out an exhale, watched it lightly ripple across the surface of the water. “I think if you were to hold me, I would break down, and I don’t really want to do that yet,” you whispered. “So, this is fine, but nothing more. If that’s…alright?” Penelope continued dragging the soft cloth down your back, silent for a beat.

“It’s alright,” she affirmed. “You went through a trauma. It’s okay to feel it.”

You huffed a dry laugh. “I know, but…not yet. I’m just glad I’m home.” Penelope smiled, a small thing, as she scooped some water to trickle down your shoulders and wash the soap away.

“Me, too.”

That first night was both the easiest and the hardest. Penelope didn’t hold you, no matter how badly she wanted to, but she tangled your legs together under the sheets. So you’d still be entwined. She didn’t really know how to sleep without your touch at this point. And you were grateful for her presence, solid and grounding throughout the night.

From there, it was all about the little things.

“Can you leave the lights on?” You had asked when you first got back and every night since. You didn’t need to ask anymore, Penelope knew what to do, but you were still hoping that one of these days you wouldn’t have to say anything. That darkness wouldn’t feel so suffocating.

“Oh, of course, sweet pea,” Penelope said tonight, settling into bed without so much as a glance at the light switch. “Whatever you need. Really.”

You scooted under the covers, sighing. “I thought I could do it tonight.” Penelope pulled the blankets over you both, keeping you safe in a cocoon of your own creation.

“You can do anything. Leaving the lights on doesn’t change that. I’m just glad you’re here.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you felt yourself relax into the motion. Let the warmth radiating from her lull you into a sleep that would still be plagued by nightmares, but perhaps just a little less tonight. You didn’t want to talk about it, anyway.

And that’s how it went for a while. Penelope had experience both from work and her volunteering with victims’ families in her free time to know exactly what to say to make you feel better. So she was supporting you the best she could to help you acclimate to a new routine while you were trying desperately to feel normal again. But things weren’t normal. You’d been through a trauma and it was impacting nearly every aspect of your daily life.

Two weeks after the kidnapping and two days after you felt like you could maybe sleep with the lights off (just a small lamp in the corner!), Penelope woke you with the gentle suggestion—Breakfast? You noted her side of the bed, messy and unmade, but cold. It was rare that she started her day without you, but you nodded, followed her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, an enticing aroma getting stronger with every step.

“Routines are very important to me. I figured getting you into a routine might help you ease back into things. Give you some things to do without overwhelming you,” Penelope explained as the two of you reached the countertop, handing you a warm drink in your favorite mug. “Breakfast is the first step. That doesn’t mean you have to make it yourself all the time, though.” You took it, gave it a sip. Tea. It was sweet.

“You don’t have to do all of this. Just the fact that you’ve stayed with me through everything has been enough.” You lifted the mug back up to your lips as Penelope stilled, hands paused above the bowl on the counter.

“I would never leave you like that, Y/N,” Penelope stated, tone ever-so serious. She held eye contact with you for a beat and then went back to stirring the batter before her. She must have made that while you were still asleep. “Besides, I’m not doing this out of some obligation. I want to do this. I want to make sure you’re okay. And part of that involves making my world-famous cinnamon pancakes.”

Penelope’s words melted a bit of the cool exterior you’d built around yourself since the kidnapping. Bit by bit she’d melt it away, in a flash flame of such love and care that you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. “World-famous, huh?” You found yourself smiling. Penelope nodded. “Well, I guess you could continue helping out.”

She poured the batter into a pan on the stove, picking up a spatula and pointing it at you. “Remember your meeting with the appointed therapist at—”

“At two. I remember. Thank you,” you said.

“We’ll go home after work at six if all goes well, and we can order your favorite takeout and maybe watch a movie? Whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” you said again, sincere, as you placed a hand over Penelope’s. It hadn’t been comfortable at first. The routines. The detailing out every step of every day. It felt suffocating and condescending and impossible. But you’d since found comfort in it. In Penelope. If you could just stick with the routines, everything would be okay. Penelope would make sure of it.

Penelope couldn’t keep the bad days away, though.

Your first day back had a few hiccups. It was strange to be back, like you were different somehow. Unpacking everything that happened to you with the therapist certainly didn’t help that feeling, necessary as it was. Afterwards, you felt incredibly uneasy. As though a strong wind might knock down your cool exterior and force you to fall apart. At the end of the day, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak during the car ride home with Penelope. You had underestimated how hard it would all be. Penelope didn’t push, though.

“Are you still up for a movie and takeout?” She asked as she pulled into the garage for your building. You nodded, mouth closed in a tight line, trying to keep all the sour feelings from bubbling out.

She stopped in the living room, turned to face you. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet this whole time. I don’t want to push, but I’m worried about you.”

You picked at the edge of the countertop, avoiding her gaze before sighing. “Today was hard,” you mumbled. Penelope’s face softened instantly as she stepped towards you.

“Oh, sweet pea, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

“A little,” you resigned. Penelope’s hand reached for yours, and you took it. Grounded yourself in the feeling. Physical touch hadn’t been a priority since you’ve been back. But in this moment, it felt monumental.

“Do you want me to hold you?” She asked, hesitant. You mulled it over, unable to deny what you were feeling. You needed support. You needed to lean on Penelope. Damnit, you wanted to be held.

“…Yes.”

Arms wrapped around you before the word even finished, stunning you into silence. That familiar weight surrounding you flooded you with warmth, releasing all the pent-up emotions the day had brought with it. You sighed, shaky, fighting back the tears. Penelope rubbed your back as she spoke.

“You know, this isn’t the end of the world. Today it’s hard, but maybe tomorrow it will be a little easier. And every day it’ll get a little easier. Or maybe a little harder, like a wave. But ultimately, you’ll be okay. We’ll get you into a routine, and you’ll have your therapy sessions, and they’ll suck but they’ll help. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

You tightened your arms around her waist as you let the words wash over you. A few tears ran down your cheeks and you burrowed your face into Penelope’s shoulder. You took a deep breath, relaxing further into the hug as you exhaled.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there like that. But eventually, you did start to feel a little better. Penelope was with you, even in times like these. And now you could continue with your night, even if it wasn’t going as planned. Your world wasn’t ending, it was just a little different now.

“Can we get that takeout now? I promise I’ll talk to you about everything that’s going on.”

Penelope laughed, pressed a kiss to your temple. “Yes, we can order food now.”

And so you told Penelope about your day, the good, the bad, the small successes, and the things that felt like huge failures. And she didn’t judge you for any of it. She sat with you, listened, and affirmed what you were feeling. By the time the sun had set and plates were emptied, it was as though a little bit of the weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You still had plenty to work through, but today had shown you that it was doable. You would survive this. Penelope by your side.

“Cinnamon pancakes again tomorrow?” Penelope had asked after you two had gotten ready for bed. You looked at her from your spot on the bed. She hovered her hand over the light switch, waiting for your confirmation before she turned out the lights. You took a deep breath and nodded. As you switched on the bedside lamp, Penelope shut off the main lights, enclosing the room in near-darkness, just a warm glow from your left illuminating her features. You shut your eyes, focused on your breath. Penelope laced her fingers through yours and you smiled. You would be alright. Eventually. In the meanwhile, you still had Penelope and her magical pancakes. You opened your eyes, facing Penelope head on.

“Yes, please.”

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